We were nearly to the exit when a voice boomed behind us. “Devil.”
We spun around, spotting Silviu on the other side of the room.
He stood on the stairs, his tall form stiff. His black suit was so perfectly pressed and he stood so still that he looked like a mannequin in a department store in Hell.
“Silviu.” Grey’s voice sounded bored. “We are leaving now.”
“I need her. You know that.”
“I’m afraid you cannot have her.” He stepped forward.
“No,” I whispered.
“I’ll handle this,” he said. “Get out of here.”
“The point is for both of us to survive. I’m not leaving you.”
“I cannot allow you to depart so soon,” Silviu said.
“This isn’t the way to obtain Carrow’s help,” Grey said. “You’ve been cooped up here too long. You no longer know how to engage with people.”
Silviu shrugged a slim shoulder. “Perhaps you are right and I am out of date. All the same, I like things my way.”
I scoffed, watching him, looking for any kind of weakness that I could exploit. I wouldn’t jump on it—not unless Grey really needed me to. But this was his maker. His fight.
“Unfortunately, you cannot have things your way,” Grey said. “I proved that last time when I left here, and I’m going to do so again.”
A shadow of rage passed over Silviu’s face, and he raised a hand. It burned bright red with flame, and he hurled the fireball directly at Grey.
Instead of dodging, Grey stepped into it, taking the blast on the chest. It exploded around him, enveloping his form, and he seemed to glow briefly, growing stronger.
“You’ve forgotten my particular talent,” Grey said, a smile in his voice.
“Bastard,” Silviu hissed, annoyance in the tone.
“I learned the gift here, you know.” Grey approached slowly, like a predator. “Adapted to survive. To escape.”
“You’ll not escape this time.” Silviu prowled closer.
Grey
Silviu stared at me, rage in his eyes. His time alone in this castle had twisted his mind. He was still powerful—massively so.
But rage drove him now.
He would make mistakes.
It made it even easier to manipulate his thoughts.
I imbued my voice with power, letting my magic flow through my words and into him. “You will let us leave unharmed.”
“You know that does not work on me,” Silviu muttered, stalking closer, moving like a panther out for a kill.
“Doesn’t work well.” I smiled. “But it does work.”
He growled.
“You will not fight us,” I said.
His steps stuttered, as if his body fought to stop him from walking, yet his mind wanted to force him to keep going. He pushed onward, moving more slowly, his brow furrowed with effort.
“I will punish you for this,” he hissed.
“Your ability to do that disappeared long ago.” I charged, hurtling toward him with every bit of speed and rage that filled my body.
Protect.
I could feel Carrow behind me, no doubt debating which angle to attack from. I wanted to finish this before she even tried. She shouldn’t be anywhere near Silviu.
I reached him a half second later, raising my fist and delivering a swift punch to his jaw. He spun backward, staggering. The pain seemed to have shocked him free of my mind control, and he whirled toward me, slamming me down.
He fell upon me, swinging for my face as his speed took me to the ground. Before he could land the blow, I kicked up, hitting him in the stomach and hurling him off of me.
He flew into the nearby wall. I stood, and he straightened. We collided in a blur of fists. Silviu landed a hard blow to my jaw, making pain flare. I felt the bone crack, the agony nearly blinding me. Instinct drove my movements, and I returned the blow, striking twice in a row.
Thoughts of Carrow fueled me, making me stronger, faster.
Silviu raised a fist for another punch, but I blocked, putting all my strength into my next blow. My fist slammed into his jaw, radiating pain up my arm. He sailed backward and landed in a heap, lying still.
Unconscious.
I turned toward Carrow, who stood nearby, a dagger and a potion bomb clutched in each hand.
“You never gave me an opening,” she said.
The corner of my mouth quirked up in a small smile, but pain from my broken jaw made starbursts explode behind my eyes. “Come. He’ll regain consciousness soon.”
She nodded, and we hurried from the castle, racing down the steps and onto the gravel path. We sprinted downward through the gauntlet, the freezing cold piercing my bones.
We were nearly to the end when I heard a shout from above. The rage that echoed in the sound competed with the blasts of thunder that tore through the sky.
Silviu.
I looked back, spotting the tiny, pale figure of my maker standing at the door to his castle.
He’d always been a bastard.
I turned back and raced alongside Carrow. A dozen meters later, and I felt the protective charm that surrounded the castle break.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop. “We can transport from here.”
“Thank fates.” She spun toward me, face pale and lips shaking with cold.
I plunged my hand into my pocket and withdrew a transport charm. Quickly, I slammed it to the ground. A silvery gray cloud exploded upward, and I gripped Carrow’s hand tightly, imagining the courtyard outside of my tower.
Together, we stepped into the mist. The ether sucked us in and pulled us through space, spinning us wildly until my feet landed on the cobblestones of Guild City.
Night had fallen, the sky dark and the city streets nearly empty. Streetlamps flickered with a golden glow, giving Carrow’s pale face some color.
She heaved a sigh and tipped her head back. “That was close. No wonder you got the hell out of there as soon as you could.”
I nodded. “It was an unpleasant decade.”
My shirt stuck to my back, torn and bloody. Though those wounds had healed, I was a mess and needed another healing potion for my jaw. My natural healing was gone now. “I haven’t had a hit like that in a while.”
“He was powerful.” Worry twisted her mouth. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.”
“Will he come for us?”
“Possible, but doubtful. He hasn’t left that castle in centuries. I’m not sure he knows how anymore.”
“Good.”
“I need a change of clothes,” I said, feeling the wind on my back through my torn shirt. My jaw ached, a reminder of the mortality biting at my heels. I needed to seek another healing potion immediately. “I assume you want to return to the library?”
“I do.” She shifted, pulling at her ruined shirt. “But do you mind if I get cleaned up at your place first?”
“Not at all.”
7
Carrow
It didn’t take long to get cleaned up and borrow a shirt from Grey. It was far too big, but I tied it at my waist and rolled up the sleeves.
The worst—best—part was that the shirt smelled like him. I drew in a deep breath, though I knew that wasn’t smart. His scent filled my head, sending me back to the last time we’d kissed. Heat thrummed through my veins, and my skin prickled with awareness.
“Are you ready?”
Grey’s voice dragged me from my thoughts, and I blinked at him, returning to the present.
I stood in his living room, right in front of the bookshelves. He’d just changed and stood at the door to his bedroom, looking handsome as ever in dark trousers and a sweater. His jaw was no longer slightly swollen, and his hair was damp from a shower.
“Yes. Let’s go.” As much as I wanted to spend the night there with Grey, the thought of the answers the book might hold got me moving.
We left the tower in silence, passing Miranda at the hostess station and the guards at the front door. When we were in the courtyard and alone, Grey spoke. “The seer mentioned your past as being important to this, but you’ve never spoken of it.”
Somehow, I wasn’t surprised to hear him mention it. He was right—I never spoke of it.
“That’s because I hardly ever think about it,” I said.
“Really?”
I nodded. “As a child, I became very good at compartmentalizing. It’s a useful talent.”
“I’m aware.”
I looked up at him, spotting a wry grin on his face. We were passing a brightly lit shop full of potion bottles. The lights from within flickered in his eyes, which were shadowed with misery, no doubt at the memory of his past. Of course he’d be good at compartmentalizing after the life he’d led.
“I guess we have that in common,” I said.
“What?”
“Pasts we don’t think of.”
“I can’t imagine yours is full of murder and terrorizing you’d rather forget.”
“It’s not. But you need to remember that you weren’t in control then.” We passed a coffee shop, the interior bustling with people who laughed and talked. It was a such a contrast to our conversation.
“I may have been controlled by the monster within, but it was still me who did those things. I bear responsibility.” I could feel the burn of his gaze, and I looked up to catch him staring at me. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, “What are you trying to forget?”
“Nothing as bad as your memories. Not nearly.” But still, I hated to think of it. Hated to speak of it.
Somehow, though, walking on the quiet street made it easier to face. There was just enough distraction to keep me from sinking into it, and I didn’t have to make eye contact, which helped.
“Tell me,” he said.
“It’s all very human and mundane,” I said. “Just a miserable childhood that I would like to leave in the past.”
“Yet, somehow, it’s connected to this.”
I sighed, nodding. He was right. If we wanted to get to the bottom of this mess, I’d have to revisit the past I’d done such a good job of suppressing. “My mother died shortly after I was born. Car crash.” Again, the ache that I’d numbed for so long. Being forced to confront my past made me face how much I missed her.