Chapter 2

Carrow

The door swung open, revealing Grey, pale and skinnier than I'd last seen him, with shadows under his eyes and sharper cheekbones that made his full lips look even more sinful.

Worry twisted in my chest. "You look like hell."

"And you look like heaven." A worried frown flashed in his eyes. "I shouldn't have said that."

"I like it." I entered, reaching up to cup his cheek.

He moved back before I could make contact and hurt flickered inside me. "You don't want me to touch you?"

"It's not wise."

I nodded, knowing he was probably right. Last week, we'd had the best night of my life. But we couldn't do that again. Not with the way our future was shaping up.

Worry twisted my heart as I entered his beautiful flat. Austere, yet gorgeous, the space had a high ceiling and an enormous wall of windows that looked out on a tormented, wave-capped beach. It was magic, of course, but I couldn't help but think that the tumultuous beach represented the state of Grey's soul or . . . whatever.

He was a desperate mess, like I was.

I turned to him, taking in the broad shoulders that were still capped with heavy muscle despite the weight loss. His suit still fit perfectly, of course. It should be impossible. "Where have you been?"

"Worried?"

"Yes."

The corner of his mouth tugged up in the smallest smile. "Don't be. I've found a solution to our problem."

"Is that why you look like hell?"

"It wasn't easy, true. But it's also just the nature of the curse. Hell is calling my name."

I couldn't believe it. He was a good person. True, he had a terrible past and was involved in some seriously shady dealings, but he was fundamentally good. But even if heaven called his name, that still wasn't a place I could go. Not yet.

If ever.

I shook the thought away. "What is the solution? Will it save you?"

"I believe so. I've found a spell and a sorceress in town who can break our Cursed Mate bond."

Hope flared. "So we won't be cursed anymore?"

"We won't be mates."

Disappointment surged, but I tamped it down. If this was the only way, then . . . of course I'd do it. I wasn't even sure I believed in fated mates anyway. It wasn't like I'd been born to this world and grown up with it.

"If we're not mates, then we can't be cursed," I said. "That's how it works?"

"Precisely."

"Who is it? Can they do it now?" As much as I didn't want to break the bond, Grey looked like hell. He needed all the help we could get, and he needed it soon.

"They can. Immediately. It won't take long."

Mac was on the trail of the kidnappings. I had to take the time for this. "Let's go."

He nodded, his gaze lingering on me for a moment. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. I swallowed hard and moved toward the door. "Come on. No time to waste."

"Of course." He followed me out of his flat, and I couldn't believe we were already on our way. How was this happening so damned fast?

I looked back at him, catching sight of the exhaustion in his eyes.

This only feels fast to me.

"You've been going nonstop since we parted, haven't you?" I asked. "Looking for a cure."

He nodded.

I reached for his hand and squeezed. "I'm glad you found one."

He squeezed back, just briefly, then dropped the small embrace. Hurt pierced me, and I tried to shove it away. He was clearly ready to be rid of me and this bond. After the night we'd spent together, though…

It was hard to believe.

Well, believe it, cookie. Life is full of disappointments.

"Where are we going?" I asked, wanting to get my mind off the miserable train of thought.

"To Hellebore Alley, not far from my tower. There's a blood sorceress called Cyrenthia who can help us."

"Blood sorceress?"

"A magic that teeters on the edge of dark. The key ingredient to her magic is blood. Taken willingly, her magic falls on the right side of the law. Taken unwillingly . . ."

"Dark magic."

"Precisely." He nodded at Miranda as we passed, and she watched him with steely eyes. The worry that I'd seen on her face earlier was gone, hidden no doubt when he was around.

Grey led me out into the square in front of his tower. The sky had grown even more ominous, dropping lower in the sky, and taking on the shade of gunmetal. It was almost as if the weather agreed that sad shit was about to happen.

Of course I wanted to fix Grey. I'd cut open my vein right away and let the blood sorceress take whatever she wanted. But breaking our bond . . .

It felt like breaking the thing that was growing between us, and I was definitely conflicted about that. I shouldn't fall for the tortured, ancient vampire, but I was beginning to teeter at the edge. And I was liking it.

"How is your guild tower coming along?" he asked.

His words dragged me to the present, and I looked up at him. "Fine. We're getting there, but its slow."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it's working out." He approached an alley that smelled vaguely foul. Nothing overtly terrible—more like a swamp than a dumpster—but it wasn't pleasant.

He turned down the alley, and I followed, spotting the sign on the brick wall at the corner. Hellebore Alley.

The air felt thicker, as if it were coated with smog. It was darker as well, the clouds hovering around the roofs of the buildings. The alley was so narrow that Grey and I had to walk shoulder to shoulder. On either side of the little road, the buildings rose three stories high.

In the style of Tudor buildings, the upper floors jutted out over the lower ones, the overhang creating a tunnel effect. The dark wooden beams surrounded gunmetal gray plaster. It had once been white, the usual color, but soot appeared to have coated the surface.

Grey caught me looking. "That's the stain of dark magic. The top floors are flats. Rent is cheap in this part of town."

No surprise. The letting advert would say something like Charming hovel in a perpetually gloomy part of town. Sun never seen.

The windows of the upper floors were all shuttered, either by wood or curtains, as if the inhabitants were constantly walking around in their knickers and couldn't risk being spotted by the people in the windows across the road.

Given the dark magic stink in the air, however, I had a feeling that it wasn't nakedness that kept the windows covered.

The contents of the shops were nothing like those on the other streets. Sure, they had the same magical aura that made the contents of the windows move around, but the contents . . .

I shuddered.

One window was full of weapons. Normally, I'd be entranced. I loved a good blade. But these were different. They were the sharpest, evilest looking daggers I'd ever seen. Serrated teeth and double pronged. In the window, they stabbed at the air, darting around with an aggression that was so different from the elegant, fanciful movements of weapons in the shop windows in the rest of Guild City.

Worse, the blades were speckled with a rusty brownish-red.

"Is that blood on the blades?" I asked.

"I would think so, yes."

I shivered and looked toward the next shop. Hundreds of potion vials sat on the shelves, vibrating with a low hum that radiated through the glass, making a shudder run through me. My stomach turned, and I pressed a hand to it.

"Breathe through your mouth," Grey said. "It helps."

"Why does it feel like that?" I shot the vials another look, not liking the way the neon contents made my eyes burn just from looking at them.

"The nature of the potions. They're all exceedingly unpleasant."

My gaze riveted to the next shop window, which made the ‘unpleasant'potions look like a sunny day in the park. It was by far the worst display I'd ever seen. Possibly the worst thing I'd ever seen.

Severed body parts floated in the air, all of them withered and wrinkled. Claws and talons tipped the hands, and the organs were unlike any I'd ever seen in diagrams or at the coroner's office.

"What is that place?" I whispered, my stomach turning.

"Demon body parts emporium. They're used in spells."

I shook my head, horrified. "I don't care if demons are the personification of evil and their souls wake back up in their hells, that seems wrong."

"I must say that I agree." He walked a bit faster, putting himself between me and the shops so that I couldn't easily see what was inside.

"Thanks. I've definitely seen enough." I kept my gaze glued on the cobblestone walkway that gleamed gold and dark beneath the streetlamps that burned even in daylight. The stones looked wet, though it hadn't rained recently. In fact, this whole place appeared damp.

"We're nearly there," he said.

"Thank fates. I'm surprised the Council lets a place like this exist."

"They toe the line between legal and illegal. And there are some bribes involved."

"Do you facilitate any of those?"

"For the blood sorceress, yes. For places like the demon body parts emporium . . . definitely not."

"Why does she live over here if she is a member of the Sorcerer's Guild? I thought they liked to stick together—loyalty and all that." The sorcerers were generally bastards to outsiders, but they were a fiercely loyal bunch amongst themselves. I quite admired it, actually.

"She's not a member of that guild. Not formally, at least."

"What do you mean?"

"She's a member in the same way that I'm a member of the Vampire Guild. She pays dues so that the Sorcerer's Guild will claim her, and the Council leaves her alone. But she isn't involved with them in any way."

"That's possible? Could I have done that if the Shadow Guild hadn't appeared?"

"It requires money and connections, but yes."

"Oh. I don't have those."

He looked down at me. "Yes, you do."

"Connections, maybe." I nudged his shoulder. He was pretty much the most powerful connection one could have in Guild City, albeit an unorthodox one. "But money? No."

"I do."

"You'd have used it for me?" Surprise surged inside me.

A perplexed look flickered in his eyes. "I don't see how that is a question. Of course I would have."

Our bond might be broken in a short while, magically torn asunder, but how could I not fall for a guy like this? He always had my back.

"But it was a last resort," he said. "It's a careful balance to be outside of a guild, and always more dangerous. You're safer as a true member. That was always the goal."

"And now I am." I had my ragtag guild—tiny, but fierce.

Grey stopped in front of a dark red door. It was ornately carved with roses and vines. The thorns looked deadly sharp and dripped a dark red liquid that drew my gaze. "Is that blood?"

"The blood of everyone who has requested services. Including ours." He raised a hand and pierced his thumb on a thorn that wasn't dripping. Dark blood welled, and he removed his hand. The gleaming droplet hung suspended, not falling.

I did the same, wincing slightly at the little pinch of pain. When I removed my hand, my blood hung immobile as well. Magic swirled around the door, a dark mist that traveled up the front of the three-story building. It was Tudor, like the rest, but the wooden beams surrounded red plaster instead of the usual grayish white, giving the place an ominous feel.

A moment later, a tiny hatch in the main door opened. It was about waist level, and a withered hand appeared, holding a golden goblet. Black liquid swirled within, and ornate golden rings decorated the fingers on the hand. Dark red talons tipped each withered finger, and I flashed Grey a startled look.

"What?" I mouthed.

"You are worthy." The creaky voice intoned from behind the door, cutting off any response he might have given. "Now make your offering."

Grey raised his thumb to his mouth and pierced with a fang, then held his hand over the cup. The wound bled freely, and he allowed a thin stream to drip into the cup.

When he finished, I raised my hand, assuming I had to go, too.

He shook his head, and I lowered my hand.

"Her, too," the voice said.

"It is unnecessary," he said. "I have made the offering."

"Two wish for services, two will make the offering." The voice was firm despite its obvious age and the weakness of the speaker. The withered hand trembled as it held the glass.

"It's fine." I raised my hand and drew my own small knife, cutting my finger, feeling the pain pinch as the blood welled. I let it pour over the cup, dripping into the dark liquid. Only a few drops had fallen when Grey gripped my arm and withdrew it. "That's enough."

I pressed my thumb to the cut, staunching the flow.

The hand withdrew, and the little door slammed shut. A few moments passed, and I looked up at Grey, catching sight of something unidentifiable in his eyes. "What?"

"Would that I could heal you." There was a slight wistfulness to his voice.

How the hell was I supposed to not fall for a guy like this?

Impossible.

"You'll be better soon enough, your healing abilities returned." I stared at the closed door, waiting. "What's happening?"

"I'm not sure you want to know."

"I do."

Before he could answer, the main door creaked open, revealing a stunningly beautiful woman. Brilliant red hair fell down her back, and blinding green eyes glittered with life. She wore a black robe trimmed in what looked like diamonds, and it swayed around her as if blown by an impossible wind that no one else could feel.

I blinked, surprised.

Where had the crone gone? There was no way she was the same person who had stuck the goblet out of the tiny hatch.

And yet, she was holding it. Her fingers were tipped with scarlet nails and the same golden rings glinted on her fingers. Even her lips were gleaming a vibrant red. At first, I'd taken it to be lipstick.

But no, it was blood.

My blood.

This woman had drunk our blood and grown young again.

Wow.

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?