Chapter 7

Carrow

Hey! Wake up!

Cold water splashed on my face, and I jerked upright, gasping.

Cordelia sat next to me on the bed, my water cup clutched in both of her little paws. She grinned toothily at me. You weren't waking up.

I scowled. "You hardly tried."

She held up the cup. I tried very hard.

"Dumping water on my face isn't trying hard." I pushed my wet hair off my forehead and tried to still my racing heart.

That dream…

I shuddered.

It couldn't be a vision of the future, could it?

But it was. It was exactly what I'd seen when I'd touched Grey last week. A vision of our future—of what "Cursed Mates" meant to us. Except we didn't know why or how, exactly.

Cordelia shifted, staring at me with solemn eyes. The Devil is here.

"What?" Surprise flashed through me. "Already? Why didn"t you lead with that information?"

She shrugged. I told you, didn't I?

I groaned and climbed out of bed, still dressed in half my clothes from yesterday. "Where is he?"

In the street.

I scrubbed a hand over my face and grabbed my robe, pulling it on over my T-shirt. He didn't need to know what a slob I was. I'd been wearing this shirt for at least twenty-four hours straight.

The clock showed that it was already past two in the afternoon, yet I still felt exhausted. "How the hell did I sleep so long?"

You were up forever reading that book. The sun had already come up and everything.

I groaned, wishing I had one of those cappuccinos from the Mages' Coffeehouse. If there was one thing I needed right now, it was caffeine. Good, strong, caffeine, preferably prepared by someone else and served in a cup I wouldn't have to wash. That wasn't happening anytime soon, however.

Butterflies tumbled in my stomach as I went to the bedroom window and opened it, leaning out to look at the street below.

Just as Cordelia had said, the Devil waited down below. He was so damned handsome in the afternoon light, his suit cut impeccably to make him look like a spy out on a coffee break.

Coffee.

My gaze riveted to the two paper takeaway cups in his hands.

"Is one of those for me?" I asked.

"Indeed, it is. May I come up?"

"Did you find another copy of the book?"

"Will you let me come up if I didn't?"

"Just curious." I pointed to the drinks in his hands. "You've already got your invitation right there."

One corner of his full lips tugged up in a grin.

"Cordelia will show you in," I said. "Wait in the living room. I need a quick shower."

He nodded.

Behind me, Cordelia grumbled.

I turned to her. "I got you a kebab last night, and you owe me."

I'll do it for another kebab.

"You drive a hard bargain, madam."

She nodded. Damn right I do. And don't think I'll forget.

"I would never." She wouldn't let me. If I'd learned one thing, it was that Cordelia remembered what she was owed. Hell, I needed to get my business up and running so I could keep her in the lifestyle to which she'd become accustomed. No more dumpster diving for my kebab-loving raccoon.

She trundled to the door, and I darted into the bath.

The space was little and cramped, shoved under an eave that had been built hundreds of years ago. But it was mine, and I loved it. I took a shower in record time, wondering what Grey thought of my place.

By the time I'd dried and dressed in my usual black jeans and T-shirt, Cordelia was back in the bedroom. He's waiting for you.

"Thank you."

Kebab?

"They're not even open yet, nerd."

They are, too. It's the afternoon, not morning.

I sighed. "I'll get it later. We need to get a move on with this, and you need a more varied diet."

She scoffed and turned away to climb back onto her chair. I left her to it, heading out to join Grey in my living room. He stood by the window, his pose tense and slightly uneasy, as if he didn't know where to sit. He looked big and out of place in the tiny room.

"You can sit anywhere," I said.

He turned to me. "Thank you."

He didn't sit, instead handing me my drink.

I took it gratefully and nodded my thanks. "Is this from the mages' place?"

"Indeed. A cappuccino."

"Thank you." I sipped. "Oh, that's amazing."

He smiled, and the faintest bit of warmth entered his eyes. It made him appear almost human, although no less otherworldly in his beauty.

"So, the book?" I prodded.

"Apparently, there is another copy in the Order of Magica Archives in Chicago. My contact there, Ms. Cross, tracked it down."

"And?"

"She'll show it to us today. We are to meet her outside of the Order of the Magica's Hall of Inquiry as soon as you're ready."

"I'm ready." I grabbed my leather jacket off the back of a chair, then debated bringing the book. I didn't really want to leave it out of my sight, considering it was cursed. In and of itself, that was a valuable clue. "Let me just get the book."

He nodded, and I hurried back to my bedroom, slipping the book into the cross-body bag in which I'd been carrying it around. I returned to the living room and found him by the door.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready. How do we get there?"

"We'll take a portal to save on transport charms. There's one that leads directly from Guild City to Magic Side."

"Perfect."

I followed him down the stairs but paused briefly by Mac's door.

He stopped and turned back, raising a brow at me.

"I'm going to check on Mac and Seraphia." I knocked lightly, then stuck my head in. "Hello, you two. Are you all right?"

Mac and Seraphia sat at Mac's table, their heads bent over cups of tea. They looked pale and weak.

I hurried inside and dropped into a chair beside them. "You guys look like hell."

"I'm fine." Mac's voice was faintly raspy. "Eve is coming up with more of the potion that holds off the effects of this curse."

"Is she any closer to a cure?"

"Not yet."

Grey was standing in the doorway. I felt his presence like the warmth of a summer day and turned to him. "Do you have any contacts who could figure out what's wrong with them?"

"Not in town, no. But Ms. Cross may know of someone. She works at the Order, and they have access to all varieties of magic."

"Nevaeh Cross?" Seraphia asked.

"The same."

"I've heard of her. Reportedly an excellent scholar." Seraphia's face was wan. "Did she find a copy of the book?"

"She did."

"Thank fates." Seraphia's eyes brightened at the news. "I'm dying to know what history has been hidden."

"We'll find it." I turned back to Grey. "If there's someone at the Order who can help with Mac and Seraphia's condition, what will they need?"

"A hair from each of them will do." Eve's voice sounded from behind Grey. "Sorry. I was eavesdropping."

He moved aside to let her pass, and she slipped into the room. The raven followed her, its eyes as black as her dress. Her peasant-style skirt flowed around her ankles, glittering with black beads.

She handed me a bag. "Potion bombs. Your familiar let me know you were headed out on a job."

"Thank you." I took it gratefully and added it to the messenger bag with the book.

"There are scissors in the kitchen drawer," Mac said. "By the sink."

While Eve gave Seraphia and Mac more of the potions she'd concocted, I retrieved the scissors. Quickly, Mac and Seraphia each removed a tiny lock of hair.

"I hope that works," Eve said, "because I still haven't figured out what's in the curse. I'm going to the Sorcerers' Guild and Witches' Guild today to see if anyone there can help."

"Let me know if you find anything, and I'll do likewise." I gave Mac and Seraphia worried glances. "Take it easy today, okay?"

Mac saluted. "Cartoons and ice cream, no problem."

Despite the worry that still tugged at me, I laughed.

Grey and I left, and he led me toward the city gate I used most often.

"Are we headed to the Haunted Hound?" I asked.

"Yes. They have a portal that leads to Magic Side."

As I walked beside him, I couldn't help but remember the dream that had been so terrible.

"Are you all right?" he asked, noticing my silence.

"I'm fine."

We reached the pub a few minutes later, arriving at the back of the establishment.

"This way." Grey headed down the dark hallway to the main part of the pub. "The portal is in the other side of the building."

We passed in front of the bar, and I gave Quinn a wave.

"You all right?" he asked. "How are Mac and Seraphia?"

"I'm fine. They're not. We're headed to Chicago to find a cure."

"Good luck. Keep me updated."

"Will do."

He watched us with a worried expression. Grey led me down a hallway identical to the other, with shelves full of liquor bottles and an unmarked door tucked into the corner at the end.

We stepped through, and the ether sucked me and spun me through space, spitting me out in a large open square. On either side of us, skyscrapers rose toward the pale blue sky. It was earlier in the day here, the sun lower in the sky. The light glinted off the buildings and the massive lake to the north.

I heard the roar of water and felt a fine mist on my skin. I turned and gasped. Behind me, an enormous water sculpture looped overhead, floating in the air like a giant ring. Water dripped down, and a dozen screaming, happy kids played underneath.

Grey caught my momentary surprise. "That's the Rain Bridge. It's the partner of the Cloud Gate in downtown Chicago. What the humans know of as The Bean."

"Wow." I spun in a circle, taking in the city. "I've never been to America."

Grey smiled. "There are a lot of beautiful places here."

"What body of water is that?" I pointed to the glittering expanse. There was no land in the distance that I could see, but on the shore to my left, the city stretched far into the distance. "Chicago is on one of their enormous lakes, isn't it?"

"The Great Lakes. This is Lake Michigan. Magic Side sits just offshore of South Side. It resides in a pocket dimension, so it looks like water to humans."

"So only supernaturals can see it?"

"Exactly." He turned toward the street. "Come, we're not too far from Ms. Cross's office."

I followed him down the busy city street, passing supernaturals of all shapes and sizes. Unlike Guild City, which looked as ancient and magical as an old teapot shooting silver stars, Magic Side looked modern and almost normal, except for the individuals who filled the streets and the cars that rushed by.

Horns and exotic features weren't uncommon to see on passersby, and everyone's magical signatures were on display.

"They don't keep their signatures on lockdown, do they?" I asked.

Grey shook his head. "It's not required here."

"But why? Isn't their city like ours, hidden amongst humans?"

"It's similar, yes. Their rules are different. They consider it a First Amendment right."

I frowned, disliking the iron control that Guild City exerted over the magical signatures of its residents. It seemed unnecessary. Magic Side was more relaxed and still managed to thrive.

We hopped on a trolley car painted red and cream with the words Magic Side Surface Lines written across the side.

I looked at the rectangular windows and leather seats. "Streetcars seem a little old fashioned, don't they?"

Grey nodded. "Chicago phased out their trolley system in the '40s and '50s. Magic Side bought the old cars and kept them running. Downtown Magic Side is called the Circuit because of all the converging streetcar lines."

I nodded as I leaned against the glass. Tall buildings whipped by, though mainly, I was paying attention to the throngs of supernaturals crowding the sidewalks.

We hopped off beside a long but narrow city park.

The green oasis was dotted with pathways and benches, inviting walkers and readers to enjoy the space. There was a small, round duck pond in the center, ringed by a walkway and flower beds. On one side of the park, an enormous neoclassical building rose several stories in the air. The heavy limestone stonework was beautiful, as was the massive set of wide stairs leading up to the columned entry and massive brass doors.

"Is that the Hall of Inquiry?" I asked.

"Yes." He pulled a mobile from his pocket and typed in a message. "Ms. Cross will come get us soon."

"We can't meet her inside?"

The corner of his mouth kicked up in a small smile. "Technically, I'm not on their side of the law."

"You mean the legal side?"

"Precisely."

"How to you know Ms. Cross, then, if she's an Order agent?"

"I know some people in Magic Side. It's useful to have contacts at the Order for dealing with…" He hesitated, clearly searching for the right word. "Individuals who are like me."

"You mean criminal kingpins."

He shrugged elegantly and sat down on one of the stone benches beside the pond. I took a seat beside him and watched the ducks flapping their wings at each other. "I suppose you could call them that," he said. "Chicago's magical criminal underground predates Al Capone."

"You mean gangsters? Like with Tommy guns and flappers on their arms?"

"Some might call them that, but it's a bit more complicated."

I grimaced. I'd gone a long way from Police College to associating with known criminals. "You don't deal in guns or drugs or women, do you?"

His eyes flared with surprise. "Of course not."

"Good." I believed him. Mac had told me something of the sort when we'd first talked about Grey, and in all my time knowing him and visiting his headquarters, I'd never seen anything that would turn my stomach. There were plenty of ways to circumvent magical law and make a fortune that didn't involve selling your soul.

As we waited, my mind turned back to the book I'd read last night. "You helped found Guild City."

"Yes."

"Care to give any details?"

"What do you want to know?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. Why aren"t you on the Council anymore if you played such an important role in creating the city itself?"

"I don't want to be involved. Not anymore, at least. I served for several decades when the city was getting off the ground. Though I was never close with the other members, we agreed on most things. But the years passed, and people changed, and I lost interest."

"That was when Councilor Rasla came, right? Making the laws about the guilds and requiring everyone to join?"

He nodded. "But times were different then, and I was no longer involved."

Sadness pulled at me. "You've lost every friend you've ever had, haven't you?"

"Immortality has its downsides." He gazed into the distance. A normal person might have looked sad, but Grey looked like Grey. Cold and perfect.

Slowly, I reached for his arm.

Just a little touch, enough to see if I could feel anything in him.

"It was long ago, Carrow." He looked at my hand inching toward him, his expression knowing. "I'm fine now."

"Are you?"

* * *

Grey

Was I?

I'd been fine then, a shadow of my former self. A statue formed of ice and cold. It kept me alive. Kept me sane.

It was only with her that I'd begun to feel, to know loneliness and longing. It was bloody uncomfortable, in fact. I resisted the desire to rub my chest.

Across the courtyard, a figure appeared on the steps. Oddly, the wind whipped at her hair, though there was no breeze to be felt. She raised a hand and waved.

Ms. Nevaeh Cross.

I stood, grateful for the distraction. "We can go now."

Carrow joined me. "Is that her?"

"We'll meet her around the back of the East Wing Archives."

"Lead on."

Carrow and I strode across the park to the alley behind the building. Ms. Cross waited for us in a shady spot along the pavement, her gaze serious. She wore slim-cut trousers and a blouse that I recognized as currently fashionable. Not that I was interested in fashion, but I tried to keep up with societal changes.

Immortals—though we were rare—were notorious for being hopelessly out of date, clinging to the past. That would never be me.

"Why are you a persistent thorn in my side, Devil?" Ms. Cross fingered a fire opal pendant hanging around her neck. It glinted red with flecks of green in the sunlight.

"Thank you for your help, as always."

"You owe me. Again."

"I do." I gestured to Carrow. "Ms. Cross, this is Carrow Burton. Ms. Burton, Ms. Cross."

Ms. Cross shook Carrow's hand in the cheerful, friendly way of Americans. "Call me Neve."

Carrow flinched subtly at the touch and withdrew her hand as quickly as possible. She covered the awkward moment with a warm smile that didn't quite douse the look of concern in her eyes. "Lovely to meet you, Neve. Thank you for the help."

Had she sensed something? Most Chicagoans weren't subtle about their magical signatures, but Ms. Cross always seemed to have hers tamped down tight. I'd never known her species, and my curiosity was piqued.

Ms. Cross didn't seem to notice Carrow's reaction and gestured for us to follow. "Come on. I can sneak you in through this service entrance."

"If it's a risk, you can take me in, and Grey can stay outside," Carrow said.

Ms. Cross gave me a penetrating and perhaps slightly incriminating look. "We'll have to bend a few rules. And he has some skills that may come in handy." She tossed us a couple of visitor badges. "I brought disguises. This is a broad-daylight infiltration. We're not going into the high-security wing, so we shouldn't raise too many eyebrows. We can be seen—just not by the wrong people, like an investigator. Or anyone who looks official. Or curious."

"So…avoid everyone but the janitors." Carrow grinned.

"Basically. Just don't draw attention to yourselves. Let me answer any questions."

Ms. Cross turned and led us through an unassuming steel door tucked into an alcove against the side of the building. She strode down a nondescript hall that was oddly narrow and short, given the imposing edifice. We followed her up a back stairwell lit with anemic industrial lights and down another long corridor. As we walked, Carrow leaned close to Ms. Cross and whispered, "I'm sorry to ask for more favors, but is there anyone here who might be able to determine what type of curse my friends have been hit with?"

Ms. Cross frowned. "Not here, necessarily, but I think I know someone. I can hook you up."

"Oh God, thank you." Carrow's voice rang with gratitude.

We were approaching an intersection when we heard a gruff female voice shouting at someone in the adjacent hall.

"Crap, that's my boss, Lieutenant Bitchface," said Ms. Cross. "We don't want to have to answer any of her questions." She grabbed Carrow's arm and yanked her into a room, and I darted in behind them.

Two horned trolls and half a dozen imps looked up at the commotion. One of the trolls pulled off a pair of thick reading glasses and scowled at us. "Yes? Can we help you?"

There were stacks of paper everywhere, and the room was filled with a low curtain of thick smoke. Two of the imps seemed to be fighting over an elaborate abacus.

"Hi, guys," Ms. Cross said with a start. "How's the number-crunching going? I…er…am showing a few visitors around the building and wanted to show them the brains of the operation. Arcane auditing, I thought, and brought them here."

The troll narrowed his eyes. "This is very irregular. Who are the visitors?"

"Oh, just a couple of witnesses…" Ms. Cross stammered.

"Witnesses to what?"

"Well…" Smiling, she leaned in. "They witnessed some serious trespassing. On Order property, no less."

The troll scratched a horn and leaned back. "That's not normally your purview. Why are you involved?"

"Uh… this trespass involves an ancient book."

The troll grunted. "You should not bring witnesses back here. What if they saw our work? I should report this."

Some of the imps glared at us and scooped up their precious documents. We were non-auditors, after all. Another growled, a clear warning that we were not to even consider taking his abacus.

Ms. Cross raised her hands in apology. "No need to file a report. We haven't seen a thing. Think of the paperwork involved. It would hold you up, and you do important work. I just thought it would be nice to visit."

I leaned over to catch the eyes of everyone at the table and imbued my voice with my magic. "You will not report us, gentlemen."

They blinked, and the lead troll nodded. "This visit is irregular. But I will not file a report."

"Thanks, guys. Sorry for the trouble." Ms. Cross backed toward the door and motioned for us to follow.

Once we were out, she ushered us down the hall. "Whew. That was close. Thanks for stepping in."

I raised an eyebrow. "You mentioned the book. Your cover was a bit on the nose."

"It had to be. It's nearly impossible to lie to auditors, so it's best to tell a version of the truth."

I frowned. "My apologies for all the trouble."

"Really?" she asked. "I figured you enjoyed this kind of thing—slipping in and out under your enemy's nose."

"I certainly don't hate it."

We turned the corner and crossed a skyway that led to a large, round, colonnaded stone building with a domed top. Ms. Cross gestured to the imposing structure. "This is the archives. There is no ground-floor entrance, only an emergency exit. That's why I had to bring you through the East Wing."

Two huge wooden doors at the end of the skyway beckoned. The intricate carvings on their surface depicted scenes that constantly changed. Knights fighting dragons, scientists making discoveries, planets and nature and mathematics flashed across the doors in a whirling array.

"The different departments couldn"t decide who should be represented at the entrance, so they all were," Ms. Cross said. "There were so many submissions for the artwork that they ended up squishing them all on there with magic."

"I suppose that cuts down on interdepartmental bickering," Carrow said.

"It did, though nothing keeps them quiet for long."

Carrow chuckled.

We entered the enormous domed space. The interior of the archives seemed much wider and higher than the building we had seen from the skyway. I looked down from the third-floor balcony upon which we stood, studying the chamber. The walls were lined with bookshelves, while the lower level was filled with reading desks. In the very center of the room, a large O-shaped circulation desk ringed a massive pit that descended into the earth. Imps flew down and returned with books of all shapes and sizes.

Ms. Cross gestured to the pit. "There are sixty-seven levels of stacks descending deep below Lake Michigan. It's supposed to keep the books cool. But boy, it seems like a pretty daft idea to keep an entire archive beneath the water table."

"Wow," Carrow said.

"Your book, however, is in Special Collections. It was a hassle to get access."

We followed her down the stairs into a secondary wing of the archives. It was roofed with a high glass ceiling supported by a lightweight steel framework that simultaneously contrasted with and complimented the stodgy, neoclassical limestone dome.

We were met by a three-foot-tall curator. He eyed us suspiciously as he led us into a small open-top reading cubicle. Inside, atop a large Plexiglas block, sat a single book.

The curator glared at Ms. Cross. "You are responsible for this book. I do not think that people who are not curators should be allowed to touch books like these, but I do not make the rules."

Ms. Cross smiled diplomatically. "Thank you for entrusting us with it."

The small man grumbled. "I do not trust you any farther than I can spit a tooth." He slapped a box of nitrile gloves on the table. "You do not touch the pages without gloves, or you will be evicted from the archive. You do not lick your fingers to turn the pages. You turn them gently, counting to seven as you do so. You do not sneeze on the book, or excrete any other bodily substances on the book, or you will be evicted from the archives."

He paused for a moment, and then stalked off grumbling. "I will be watching."

I approached the clear plastic box with the book. A warning label on the container read: "Hazardous: Magical Materials."

We pulled on gloves, and Ms. Cross gingerly undid the clasp and opened the case. Magic sparked around the tome, shadowy and evil, leaving an oil slick on the air.

She shuddered and held the book out. "What are you looking for, specifically?"

Carrow reached for it, but I was quicker, taking it first. She didn't need to touch something coated in magic like that. As soon as my fingertips touched the spine, I knew.

Damn it.

I could feel it, the same way I'd been able to feel it on the other book. When I flipped open the pages and saw the section that had been torn out, I wasn't surprised.

Carrow scowled. "He's been here, too."

"Who the hell did that?" Ms. Cross glared from the book to me, and then back at the small man behind the special collections desk.

"Not us, obviously. But that's why we've come. Our copy of this book is missing the same pages."

"Could I hold it, please?" Carrow asked.

I frowned but passed it over. She took it, grimacing slightly, and ran her fingertips over the stumps of the missing pages.

Her magic flared slightly, and she scowled. "There's no new information here."

"What is your gift?" Ms. Cross asked. "And what's going on?"

"I'm a bit like a psychic or a seer, but my gift is activated by touch." Carrow handed the book back. "Whoever vandalized our book did the same thing to yours, but we have no idea who."

"There's more to it, isn't there?" Ms. Cross asked.

"A lot more, and—"

"Shh!" Ms. Cross drew our attention to the doorway.

A pair of accounting trolls had entered the room and were asking questions.