Devilish Game (Shadow Guild: The Rebel 4)
And yuck.
“Devil.” Her voice hummed seductively low, nothing like the voice that had filtered through the door. “So pleased to see you again.”
“Cyrenthia.” His voice was devoid of emotion. “May we enter?”
“But of course. I have everything prepared, as you requested. We just need to call upon my colleague, and we’ll be ready to start.”
“Colleague?” he asked.
“Mordaca of Darklane. This requires powerful magic.” Her gaze turned to me. “This is the one?”
“I’m Carrow Burton.” I inclined my head in greeting, not extending my hand.
“Hmm.” Her lips pursed, and it was clear she wasn’t impressed.
I suppressed a scowl. We needed her. And maybe she was being miserable because she had a thing for Grey. Why wouldn’t she?
“Come.” She turned and strode down the short, empty hall, entering a room at the back.
We followed, stepping into a surprisingly modern space. The walls had been plastered smooth and decorated with dark glass mirrors. They shimmered with an eerie light, appearing full of smoke. My reflection was dimmed, just a shadow of myself, and I drew my gaze away, not liking the hollow feeling that rose in my chest when I looked into them.
The furniture was low and sleek, dark leather and extremely uncomfortable looking. A huge table was covered in all manner of cauldrons, tiny metal tools, and vials of ingredients. Shelves of similar items lined one wall, and a black marble fireplace flickered with bright orange fire.
“Just a moment.” Cyrenthia walked toward one of the mirrors and knocked, shouting, “Mordaca! Come on, I need you.”
A voice grumbled from the other side. “Your timing is foul, Cyrenthia.”
Cyrenthia grinned widely, as if the words pleased her. She glanced back over her shoulder. “Mordaca keeps late hours.”
A moment later, the shadowy image of a woman appeared in the mirror. She stepped through, one bare leg appearing first through the glass. A black stiletto heel landed gracefully on the ground, and the rest of the woman followed.
She wore a deeply cut black dress that revealed miles of cleavage. It was cut high on her leg, falling in waves behind her. A pound of black eye makeup swept out from her eyes, looking like a mask that Cordelia would envy. Her hair was piled high on her head in a bouffant, and her entire aesthetic looked a hell of a lot like Elvira, Mistress of the Dark.
I looked between her and Cyrenthia. They were like two sides of the same crazy coin. What the hell were they going to do to us?
3
Grey
Cyrenthia and Mordaca turned toward us, both grinning widely. It was an eerie effect, blood lust gleaming in their eyes.
“Thank you for transferring the money so quickly,” Mordaca said. “Shall we get started?”
I inclined my head. The money had been the least of it. The journey to find this spell had taken me three miserable days, every step of it shadowed with doubt.
The truth of the matter was . . . I didn’t want to be parted from Carrow. Breaking our bond made my heart shrivel inside my chest into a shape even smaller than it had been before.
Yet, it was the only way.
I didn’t want to be dragged to hell. And I didn't want to return to the blood lust I’d felt as a turned vampire. All my desperate research suggested that as my strength waned and the grip of hell became stronger, my desire to feed on her would grow—possibly to the point that I couldn’t control it. I could still remember the early days, when I’d been nothing but a rabid mess of hunger, rampaging across Transylvania, more animal than man.
No.
No matter what it cost, I would not subject Carrow to that.
She deserved better than me, anyway. This would allow her to find it.
“Well?” Cyrenthia raised a brow, and I jerked slightly, realizing that they were waiting for my attention.