Chapter 13

Carrow

I woke full of hope. Maybe it had been last night—amazing—or maybe it was the fact that we'd time traveled, thus proving that anything was possible.

But the way I figured it, if we could walk through time and visit the past, then anything could happen. And today, we were going to break the curse on Grey and me.

I wanted to wake up with him every morning that I could, and I refused to settle for the scraps that fate wanted to give me. I was going to force our life together to be what I wanted.

By the time we'd woken and dressed, we were nearly late. Grey checked on the body of his former self while I pulled on my boots and cloak. Once again, the morning looked dreary, as if the entire seventeenth century were miserable.

Grey returned from the second bedroom, looking handsome as ever, even in his strange old clothing. It was a style that had always appeared a bit funny in old paintings, but on him, it looked good.

"He's fine," Grey said. "Let's go. We don't want to be late."

I finished fastening my cloak. "How's the coffee in this century?"

"Not what you're used to."

"No frappes?" I teased.

"Certainly not. Though the pastries are not terrible."

At the thought of them, my stomach growled. We'd both worked up an appetite last night.

Together, we left his flat, making our way quickly through the magic-lit hallways. When we reached the front foyer where Miranda usually stood, I was almost surprised not to see her there.

Instead, it was Clarence. Grey stopped by briefly. "No cleaning today, Clarence. My rooms are to remain undisturbed."

"Very good, my lord." Clarence nodded. "You've a meeting with Madam Stockhausen this evening."

Grey frowned, and I could tell that he was trying to remember what it was about. Finally, he said, "Please reschedule until the day after tomorrow."

Clarence nodded. "Of course. And one more thing. Councilor Rasla came by to ask for you. And about your guest."

My soul chilled at the thought.

"We have no business with him," Grey said. "Turn him away next time."

"I will do so. Have a fine day, my lord."

"You as well, Clarence." Grey turned, and I followed him out into the drizzly morning. "I suppose that answers the question of whether he recognized me."

"Yeah. Not good." The air was cool and wet, a welcome refresher until I had my caffeine. I sucked in a breath, trying to drive away the thought of Rasla. "Any idea who Madam Stockhausen is?"

"Not a clue. But hopefully, we'll be done by then, and my previous self will be conscious." He shook his head. "And I'll have to determine how Rasla resisted my magic so that I can erase his memory of us."

We made our way across town, headed for the Mages' coffee shop. The morning crowd was out and about, but everything still looked so different compared to the Guild City that I knew. True, the bones were there—the roads and buildings were the same, but they looked newer. The people, however, looked older, more worn down. Even supernaturals were subject to the difficulties of life in the past. Everything was louder, dirtier, busier.

Finally, we reached the square in front of the Mages' Guild. I spotted their enormous coffee shop and whistled low. "It looks fab."

Grey nodded, his gaze moving over the fa?ade. It looked much nicer than the building I remembered. The plaster gleamed white between the straight, dark wooden beams. The windows glittered, even though the sun was well hidden, and the structure looked like it was standing up a bit straighter. That could be said of the whole town, in fact. Time hadn't yet worn on the buildings, and it showed.

"It's brand new," Grey said. "Come." He strode across the square, and I followed.

Noise filtered through the windows as we neared, the sound of boisterous conversation and laughter. Grey opened the door, and I entered, inspecting every inch of the coffee shop that I could see.

Like the outside, everything looked nicer and straighter than the place I'd visited in my time. The ceiling wasn't quite as slanted, and everything gleamed with the shine of newness.

The bar was in the same location and the same size, though the massive, whirring espresso machines were nowhere to be seen. There were other coffee-making apparatuses, though—gleaming metal and glass containers that billowed steam.

It was far warmer inside, and I reached up to remove my cloak.

A host stood near the door, his clothing impeccable. He spotted Grey and approached.

"My lord." His voice echoed with reverence, reminding me that my mate was the most powerful person in Guild City.

Grey inclined his head. "A private room, please. We have someone meeting us soon. An older woman named Mrs. Birch-Cleve."

"But of course." The man's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Follow me."

He hurried off toward the stairs, and we followed. As I crossed the coffee shop, I peeked into the various rooms that I could see. As before, there was one dedicated to music—albeit far older music than I preferred. Another room was full of people playing games, and yet another dedicated to quiet reading. Students, maybe. They all looked young. I would have loved to come back here and explore more in this time, but I had a feeling that Seraphia would say it was too dangerous. Since I risked being stuck here, I couldn't help but agree.

The host led us to a quiet room with a large window overlooking the street. The dark floor was level and smooth, unlike the floors of this place in the present day, and the fireplace flickered with a warm light.

"Please, sit." The host gestured to the table in front of the window. "I will show your guest up when she arrives."

"Thank you." Grey sat, and I joined him.

"Do we order the same way that we do in the present?" I asked.

He nodded. "They implemented the spell when they first opened, and that hasn't changed."

Grey waved his hand across the middle of the table, and golden light swirled over the dark wood. Images of various coffees appeared, floating in midair. They were different than the cappuccinos and lattes I'd seen the first time I visited. Instead, there were black coffees of various sizes, tea, and something that looked like hot chocolate.

I chose a black coffee, and Grey did the same.

"Now for breakfast." He waved his hand over the table again, and a variety of tarts appeared, most of them unrecognizable.

I frowned at them. "Could you choose something savory and not weird for me?"

"No eel pie?"

"Not at this hour." Not at any hour.

Grey chose two pastries that looked like they might contain egg and ham. "I think you'll like this. Or tolerate it."

I smiled. Our drinks and food appeared a moment later, and I drank quickly, ignoring the heat. As soon as our guest showed up, I'd likely be too busy to drink my coffee, and I didn"t want to start this day without caffeine.

A few moments later, the woman from my vision arrived. Her beige dress was threadbare, and she looked tired. When her gaze landed on us, she stutter-stepped, her blue eyes flashing.

"You are not Councilor Rasla." Her accent was a bit old fashioned, like Rasla's had been, but I could understand her.

"We aren't." I stood. "But please, don't leave. We need your help."

Her gaze moved over us warily. She stared at Grey for a particularly long time. "What does the Devil of Darkvale want with the likes of me?"

"Your help," he said, his voice soft.

Her face crumpled in a frown. "My help?"

"Please, sit." He gestured. "Order anything you like."

"All right." She approached cautiously, taking the seat closer to me.

I sat next to her while she ordered. Once she had food and drink in front of her, she looked up at us. "You'd best explain. I wouldn't have come if the letter hadn't contained Rasla's seal. How did you get it?"

Did I explain that I'd found it more than three hundred years into the future? No. Instead, I just said, "We stole it."

Her eyebrows rose. "You dared?" She scoffed. "Of course you dared. You're the Devil of Darkvale," she muttered at Grey.

"Why did you think that Rasla was asking you to meet here?" he asked.

"Honestly, I did not know." She shrugged. "But I feared repercussions if I did not come, so here I am."

"Something went wrong at Councilor Rasla's house, and you left your post, is that correct?" Grey asked, concern in his voice.

She nodded, her expression haunted. "I could stay there no longer. And yes, leaving led to hard times. Won't be able to keep my home, come winter. The money will run out."

Grey reached into his pocket and withdrew a pouch that jingled with coins. "Whatever forced you to leave is unfair and unfortunate." He set the pouch on the table in front of it. "That is for you."

She frowned and took it, looking inside. Her brows rose, and her face went white. "This would see me until the end of my days." Suspicion flashed in her eyes. "Why? What do you want in exchange?"

"That is yours to keep no matter what happens here," he said. "I dislike unfairness, and while I do not understand the details of your situation, I have no doubt that Councilor Rasla is to blame. A housekeeper would not leave her post without promise of a referral."

"That is true enough." She shrugged as if that were obvious. "But still, you must want something from me."

"Information, if you are willing to give it," Grey said. "If you are not, then I would use my power to compel you to tell me. It would not hurt you, but I would leave with the information I need. Either way, the money is yours."

She scoffed again, which seemed to be her signature expression. "You're honest, I'll give you that."

"As I said, I would see to it that no harm comes to you," Grey said. "But it is a matter of life and death. Of my life and death, and that of the woman I care for."

Her eyes darted to me, considering. "I do not recognize you."

"I'm not a resident of Guild City," I replied. "Not this Guild City, at least.

"So you've given me this money to ease my way." She hefted the pouch. "And you'll have the information you want, whether or not I give it to you of my own volition."

"That is essentially it, yes," Grey said.

"You could have just taken the information." She frowned at him. "That's the reputation associated with you."

"I suppose so." Grey shrugged. "Perhaps I am a changed man."

Her eyes moved to me again. "Love."

He said nothing, but I couldn't help but look at him. Just briefly. Then I turned to the woman. "Will you help us?"

"Yes. And you'd best be grateful, because your power would not work on my mind. It is too strong." Pride echoed in her voice.

"Really?" Grey leaned forward, interest in his eyes.

"Indeed. Part of my magic." She gestured to herself. "Try."

Grey's brows rose, and then he spoke, his voice echoing with his power. "Tell me the date of your birth."

She smiled. "No."

"Tell me a secret from your childhood. Something harmless."

"No." She shook her head.

Grey stared at her a moment. "That's quite impressive."

"Indeed. Like I said, my mind is quite powerful."

"What species are you?" I asked.

"Witch. From a long line. My mother was the same." She looked at Grey. "So I suppose it is good that you showed me kindness and honesty. I will help you."

"Thank you," Grey said.

My gaze moved to the money he'd given her. It had been a thoughtful gesture. Would the Devil have done that in this time? Somehow, I thought not. Even the Devil I'd known when I'd first come to Guild City would not have thought of it.

But Grey had. He was changing.

I liked it.

The woman leaned forward. "What do you want to know?"

This was the tricky part. We were looking for information about me. About my powers and my past. And somehow, Rasla was tied up in all of this. The woman I'd seen in my vision was tied up in this. But where did we start?

"Are you familiar with the Shadow Guild?" Grey asked.

It was as good a place as any to start.

Fear flashed in her eyes, turning the blue dark. "How do you know of that? I thought I was the only one who knew, besides Councilor Rasla."

"Really?" I leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

She swallowed hard and lowered her voice. "The Shadow Guild was real. I swear on my eternal soul. The tower was on the far side of town, near the gate through the Haunted Hound. But it's gone now because of Councilor Rasla."

"He erased the town's memories of it," I said. "Did he not erase yours?"

"Oh, he tried, but the magic did not work on me. My mind is too strong, as I said. But he erased it in the memories of everyone else in town. Even in the memories of those who had once been in the guild. For a while, I spoke of it, trying to find someone else who remembered. But no one did."

"And then what?" I asked.

"Eventually, I drew too much attention from Councilor Rasla. He'd worked so hard to hide what he'd done. If he learned that I knew…" She shook her head, and it was clear she feared for her life. "I left my post, hoping to find other work and that he would forget me."

"What happened to the members of the Shadow Guild?" Grey asked.

It was a good question. The council evicted anyone who didn't have a guild. Where were they? Still in Guild City?

"Most of them are outcasts now. Nearly all have left town," she said. "He didn't even care that his own daughter was in the guild."

"His daughter?" Excitement thrummed in my chest.

"Yes." Mrs. Birch-Cleve nodded. "His daughter, Evangeline Rasla. His only child."

"Why does he hate the Shadow Guild so much?" I asked. "And his own daughter?"

Her eyes shifted left and right. "I'll confess, I found this information in the tried and true way of all housekeepers. I snooped."

All right then. Fantastic.

"Rasla should have been in the Shadow Guild," she continued. "His father was the guild leader, you see, and the Rasla family comes from a long line of those with strange magic. But Councilor Rasla himself—full mage. Nothing unique about him, besides his particular talent for manipulating people's minds. But he's not so talented that he could lead, and he couldn't bear it. Neither a member of the Shadow Guild, nor a leader of his own."

"And that was enough to make him destroy the Shadow Guild?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Not just that. His father was a hard man. Demanding. Not cruel, not quite. But Councilor Rasla had a terrible relationship with him, ever since the moment he could talk. Those two were ever at odds, I tell you. The fights would do my head in. Vicious, so vicious that they seemed like animals."

"Which one was in the wrong?" I asked. Was Rasla an abused boy or a bastard?

"Both, if you ask me. Neither man was evil. But combined, they brought out the worst in each other. And when Rasla learned he would never be in the Shadow Guild and that his power was a fraction of his father's? Well…" She shook her head.

"So Rasla destroyed the Shadow Guild as revenge against his father?" I asked.

She nodded. "Once he joined the Mages' Guild, he began to work against his father. In small things at first, gradually growing larger. It went on for decades, until finally, his granddaughter was born. That was too much for him."

"Granddaughter?" Was she the woman I'd seen in my vision? No, Rasla was too young to have a grown granddaughter.

She nodded. "His only daughter had a daughter of her own. When she was born, her magic was unlike anything anyone had ever seen. She can touch a person's soul. Pull it right out of their body, if she wishes."

"How old is she?" Grey asked.

"Not more than a year, I'd say."

"She can do this as a baby?" I asked. "Before she even knows what she's doing?"

"Yes. She's never harmed anyone. It is more like…an act of love, I suppose. She fills you with such joy that your soul tries to leave your body to be with her." She shuddered. "It is an odd feeling—good and bad at the same time. I've felt it but once."

"How did you survive?"

"It wasn't a forcible thing," she said. "I could feel my soul moving toward her, and I pulled it back into myself."

"But that magic must be incredible." I looked at Grey for confirmation that this was strange.

He nodded.

"It is," the woman said. "And that baby would lead the Shadow Guild one day, no doubt. He couldn't bear such a constant reminder of his failure. A short while later, the tower disappeared, and everyone in town acted like it was the most normal thing in the world. He used magic unlike any I'd ever seen, combined with his gift for controlling people's minds."

What a bastard.

The woman leaned toward me. "You look quite a lot like her, you know. Rasla's daughter. The spitting image."

I'd looked a bit like the woman in my vision. Though I hadn't been able to see her clearly, the similarities had been there.

She had to have been Rasla's daughter. Which meant we were related. The seer had said to seek my past, and she'd been right.