“Thank fates we’re on street level.” Mac grabbed the chair from behind the desk and tossed it at the window. The glass shattered.
Wow, breaking out of windows was getting to be a habit with me.
An alarm shrieked as we climbed out and landed on the pavement. We sprinted away from the building. I looked back in time to see the officer lean out the window, his gaze on mine.
Oh, please don’t catch us.
14
Carrow
Mac and I raced away from the morgue. Behind us, the cop jumped out of the window, tripped, and landed on his knees.
Oh, thank God for luck.
We ran faster, leaving him behind as we turned one street corner, and then another. As we sprinted down the pavement, we tore off our stolen white coats, chucking them into an alley as we passed. I kept the badge since that probably had my fingerprints on it. Police sirens sounded from a street away, and my heartbeat thundered.
“Are those for us?” Mac demanded.
“Oh, yeah, they’re for us.”
“Damn it. I don’t want to go to human jail.”
“Same.” We turned right, and I spotted a cab. With the cops on our tail and the Tube station still several streets away, it was worth the splurge. I shot my hand up in the air, praying.
The cab spotted us, changing lanes to come to a stop at the curb.
“Thank you.” I climbed in, Mac following. “Covent Garden,” I told the driver. “The market.”
If the cops made the connection between us and this cabbie—unlikely, but I was paranoid—I didn’t want to lead them straight to the Haunted Hound.
He nodded. “Be there in a jiff.”
My heart thundered the whole way to Convent Garden, then the entire way to the Haunted Hound. Once we made it to the safety of the pub, Mac sagged against the door. “Thank fates we’re back.”
“They can’t get in here?” I asked, searching the small crowd warily. No one turned toward us but Quinn, who smiled at us from the bar.
“Not unless they have magic.” Mac straightened. “Now, it’s time for a drink.”
“And they don’t. Have magic, I mean.” Finally, I relaxed.
Mac looked at me, her eyes wide. “You changed back.”
“To myself?”
“Yeah.”
“So did you. When did that happen?”
“I don’t know. I was in such a panic, I wouldn’t have noticed.”
“Could it have been when the guards were chasing us?”
“Maybe.”
Shit. They had looked right at us. Had they seen my real face after all?
I drew in a shuddering breath. They might not get me for the murder, but I didn’t want to be caught desecrating a body. I rubbed my hands over my face.
Mac grabbed my arm. “Come on. Let’s get that drink. I’d say we earned it.”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
She pulled me toward the bar, where Quinn waited. Handsome as ever, he eyed us up and down, taking in our disheveled appearances and heavy breathing. “Have fun, ladies?”
“Sure.” I sat, staring at the offerings behind the bar, having no idea what I wanted. My mind spun with everything that had happened.
“Two Hound’s Prides,” Mac said.
“Coming right up.”
“What’s a Hound’s Pride?” I asked.
“Does it matter?”
“Not really, actually.”
“That’s what I thought.” She grinned. “But it’s just a local ale, made here.”
“Great. Perfect.”
Quinn set two pints in front of us, and I grabbed one gratefully, drinking half of it in huge gulps. I looked up at Mac. “What the hell was the dark magic that froze us like that?”
“Necromancer magic, probably.”
“Did my mobile’s flash make it go off?”
Mac shrugged. “Maybe it didn't like the light. And you did reveal his work.”
“But…why? What was the point?”
“There probably was no point. It could be a magical remnant of the spell that was performed when the person was murdered. All magic decays, and when it does, dangerous things can happen.”
“How is it different than the little spiral shaped burn mark?” I asked.
“The spiral is the generic mark of the necromancer. That big star burn is something else entirely. Part of his magic, yes, but it’s more specific.” Mac shrugged. “I don’t know exactly what it means.”
Eve appeared at my side as I set the pint down. She wore a flowing purple dress, and her wings glittered under the lights over the bar. Her raven flew behind her, but no one acknowledged the bird, so I didn’t either. That topic seemed to be off-limits. She took a seat next to me. “You finished with your mission?”
“Yes. Thank you for the potions. They saved our butts.”
“Success?”
Mac grinned. “Yeah, I’d say so.”
Mac, Eve, and Quinn all stared at me, radiating helpful energy.
“Well, what’d you find?” Eve asked.
I pulled the mobile out of my pocket. Normally, I wouldn’t share my clues with anyone. Now, I had a lovely, weird magical crew that seemed willing to help me, and it was freaking cool.
I pulled up the picture and laid the mobile on the bar.
Everyone leaned over to look at it.
“Ew,” Eve said. The raven sitting behind her on the table twitched.
I grimaced in sympathy. “Truer words never spoken.”
“I don’t recognize that symbol,” said Quinn.
“Neither do I,” Eve replied. “But the necromancer took the heart.”
“What kind of spell could he or she perform with it?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Mac said. “All sorts, I guess. Maybe he’s trying to create more power with it.”
I looked at Eve and Quinn, who both shrugged. I couldn’t help but wonder what Beatrix’s body had been used for, but I forced the thought back. Dwelling on it would only distract me, and in a bad way. But since my friends had no more information…
I slugged back the last of my ale and put the mobile away. “Right. I think I need a word with the Devil.”
Mac had agreed to let me see the Devil alone. She’d wanted to come as backup, but it was too dangerous. He couldn’t control my mind, which made me the perfect person to interrogate him about the symbol inside the body.
He’d expected it to be there, or at least, he’d expected something to be there.
I needed to know why.
Eve had given me a small assortment of protective potions—on the house, she’d said. I still planned to pay her back someday, somehow.
As I strode toward the Devil’s tower, I felt a presence alongside me. I looked left and right, finally spotting Cordelia running along the other side of the street, keeping pace with me. The fat little raccoon was fast.
“What are you doing, Cordelia?” I called, feeling crazy for talking to her like this. It was one thing to chat with her while I was drinking my boxed wine and knowing she’d never respond.
But this?
I almost expected her to say something back to me.