Wicked Deal (Shadow Guild: The Rebel Book 2) Page 5
“Interesting.” I didn’t understand entirely what she meant, but the proprietress of the shop had come to stand in the window and stare at us. “We’ve been gawking at her shop too long.”
“Let’s go in.”
The door opened automatically in welcome. As I entered the airy space, birdsong hit my ears. It filtered through the rafters high above, making it sound like we were in a fairy glen. I looked up, spotting the colorful creatures.
I hope they’re toilet trained.
I grinned down at Cordelia.
The Fae woman who stood to the side turned to us with a smile. “Welcome.”
Her voice sounded at home with the birdsong, and it was impossible not to be impressed by her. For one, she was astoundingly beautiful, with dark hair and brilliant green eyes. Her pointed ears were studded with gems, and though I couldn’t see her wings because she had them magically hidden, I could only imagine that they were stunning. The dress she wore was a liquid, glittery thing that fit her like a second skin.
“Are you in the market for a dress?” she asked.
“Two.” I pointed to Mac. “One for each of us, on the Devil.”
Her brows rose, interest gleaming in her eyes. “All right, then, let’s get started.”
She waved her hand, and three champagne flutes floated over from the back of the shop. Golden liquid gleamed within, bubbles rising toward the surface. A glass stopped in front of each of us, even Cordelia, who plucked it out of the air.
I took mine. “Thank you.”
“But of course.” She drifted toward the back of the shop. “Look around, but in the meantime, I’m going to gather a few pieces I think might suit you.”
“Thanks.” I sipped the champagne, enjoying the burst of bubbles and flavor. “This is a bit different from the secondhand shops where I normally go.”
“Same.” Mac gulped her champagne. “But I could get used to it.”
Me too. Cordelia nimbly climbed onto a padded bench, her glass clutched in one hand. I love a good fashion show.
I looked around, wondering if anyone else was watching the raccoon. I’d grown used to her antics, but this was over the top.
Neither Mac nor the proprietress was paying attention, as if Cordelia were a totally normal part of life. Apparently here, she was.
I shrugged and turned to the shop, entranced by the beautiful fabrics. I liked my uniform of denim and leather, but I had to admit, I didn’t hate the idea of a pretty, sparkly dress. I’d probably have worn them more often if I had any money or a place to go.
In the back of the shop, the Fae proprietress moved quickly through the racks, flicking her hands and making dresses rise of their own accord. Her magic smelled of flowers and tasted like honey.
“Her magic feels lovely,” I murmured.
“You can feel it?” Mac asked.
I nodded. “Can’t you?”
“No. She’s got it locked down tight, like all of us do.”
“Really?”
“Really. But you can sense it?”
“I can.”
Mac whistled low. “That’s something special. You must be very powerful if you can sense the magic people are trying to hide.”
“I don’t think I could do it before.”
She turned to me, eyes widening. “Really? You think you’re changing?”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Well, keep tabs on that. It’s unusual.”
I nodded, watching the woman choose more dresses. Her beauty was so ethereal. Eerie, almost. It dredged up a memory of the two Fae women I’d seen walking toward the necromancer’s horrible ceremony last week.
“What’s on your mind?” Mac whispered. “You look like you ate a bad apple.”
“I was just thinking about the Fae women who were involved in the necromancer’s creepy ceremony.”
“They’re locked up now.”
“Yeah, but they didn’t look evil, and neither does she. There wickedness wasn’t obvious.”
“It never is.”
“But it means there could be people in Guild City who are involved in terrible things.”
“Just like in the human world.”
“Good point.” I’d seen some awful stuff, but it seemed worse when you added something like death magic to the mix.
The dresses flew closer, floating through the air like glittering, silky ghosts to swirl around us. The proprietress came back and smiled. “I think these would suit either of you very nicely.”
I couldn’t decide which of the four circling me I liked best, the sparkly gold, the silky white, the gleaming pink, or the velvet blue.
“Where is the dressing room?” I asked.
“Dressing room?” The woman frowned, though she still somehow looked impossibly beautiful.
“She’s not from around here.” Mac looked at me. “Just pick one.”
“Um…the gold one.”
The Fae flicked her hand in a complicated movement, her magic flaring brightly. A moment later, I wore the dress, my champagne glass still in my hand.
“Ohhhh, nice!” Mac said.
I looked down, surprised. “That was amazing.”
“One of the many perks of magic,” Mac said.
“No kidding.” It wasn’t like I got to shop much, but I hated the trying-on process.
A mirror appeared in front of us, and I admired myself. “I look good.”
“You’re going to look even better,” the Fae said.
I think you’re perfect just the way you are.
I turned back to Cordelia. The raccoon had become a little kiss arse since I’d bought her a kebab from the place below my flat. “I know what you’re doing.”
She smiled innocently, the empty champagne glass clutched in front of her.
We tried on the rest of the dresses in no time flat. I ended up deciding on the gold one, while Mac got a silver number that made her look amazing.
“And what will you be wearing this for?” the Fae asked.
Mac pointed to me. “She’s the one who needs the works.”
“The works?” I was still wearing the gold dress, since I’d be going straight to La Papillon in it.
The Fae woman smiled. “Will you be on an assassin job? Intelligence gathering? A robbery?”
“Whoa, what?”
“She’s going to enchant your dress, dummy.” Mac nudged me. “Tell her what you’re doing. Not all the details, of course.”
“There’s confidentiality within these walls.” The Fae leaned forward with a gleam in her eye.
I believed her. Not enough to tell her everything, though. “I’m going to a posh bar to find out information.”
“Ooh.” She tapped her chin. “Reconnaissance. Fun!”
She walked around me, humming to herself as she thought. Then she tapped my arm, and magic shot through the fabric, warming my skin.
“You can now have the strength of a heavyweight fighter,” she said. “Two or three punches before the magic wears out, in case you get in a bad spot and need to slug your way out.”
I inspected my arm. “Wow, thanks.”
She tapped my back, and the entire dress warmed. “And now you’ll be forgettable. Not during your encounters, mind you. You’ll still be able to charm others into giving you information. But as soon as you walk away, it will be difficult for them to remember your face.”
“That’s amazing.” My mind raced. “Can I be extra fast?”
“I can give you a bit of speed. Perhaps a couple other things.”
“Give me the works, then. No expense spared.” I pointed to Mac. “Her, too.”
The Fae tapped me once again, and this time the magic was slightly chilly. She did Mac next, giving her similar enchantments. I wasn’t sure what Mac would do with her dress, but hopefully, she’d tell me the details later.
“Now, shoes!” The Fae woman moved to the back, and we followed.
She kitted us out with stilettos that felt like trainers and could make u
s graceful and agile, then moved on to jewelry, including a bangle that turned into blade and a pendant necklace that could hold hidden charms.
Makeup and hair came next at a little salon next door, and when we were done, we looked like a million quid and could charge that much on the black market as spies.
“Well, that was amazing,” Mac said as we stepped out onto the street.
It was finally dark, and neither of us looked too out of place in our fabulous ensembles. The Devil waited for us, leaning against a tree in an impeccable slim-cut tuxedo that made him look like a posh killing machine. He was impossibly handsome with his dark hair and slate eyes. They seemed to heat when he looked at me, and I was reminded of the fire banked deep inside him.
I quirked an eyebrow at him, and he shifted, clearing his throat. “You look lovely. Both of you.”
“Thanks, mate.” Mac grinned cheekily and pointed at him. “Be careful with Carrow. Because I’ll come for you if anything happens to her.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
Mac nodded, then gave me a hug. “I’ll see you later. I’ve got some business to attend to. But call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks.”
She skipped off down the street, and I turned to the Devil. “Do we leave from here?”
“Yes.” He held out a hand, and I looked at it but didn't take it. “We’re going to use a transport charm. It’d be better if you held my hand.”
“You mean I’d be more likely to get to the right location?”
“Precisely.”
I stepped forward and gripped his large hand, shivering as heat raced up my arm. His hand swallowed mine, and I tried not to enjoy the sensation. “How does it work?”
“It creates a temporary portal through the ether that responds to my wishes. The ether will transport us wherever I request.”
“Oh, boy. That sounds….”
“Frightening?”
“Crazy.” I looked down at my enchanted dress, which was something out of my wildest fantasies. “But crazy doesn’t mean impossible, so let’s go.”
“Hold on tight.”
His words rushed through me, and now that I had got hold of him, it amazed me how natural this felt.
6
Carrow
The Devil reached into his pocket and withdrew a small gray stone. He threw it to the ground right in front of us, and a cloud of silver smoke poofed up, glittering and bright.
“Come on.” He tugged at my hand, and I followed him into the smoke.
An unseen force sucked us in and spun us through space. My stomach pitched like I was on a roller coaster, but a moment later, my feet hit solid ground.
Startled, I stumbled slightly. The Devil caught my arm, steadying me against him. Our bodies touched, and desire raced through me.
We hadn’t been this close since he’d bitten me. My gaze flashed to his, and I found him looking down at me. The heat in his eyes made me flush, and I pulled away, heart racing.
“You’ll get used to ether transport.” His voice was slightly hoarse, and I wondered if he was as affected as I was.
I thought so, but I shook the notion away and turned to inspect our surroundings. We stood on a street wide enough to allow cars by day but filled with people at night. Lovely historic buildings rose four stories high on either side of the street, their bottoms filled with shops and bars. Their smooth plaster fronts were painted different colors, and the roofs were made of lovely terracotta tiles. Many of the windows in the buildings were dark.
It was a lovely little city, but not what I’d have expected. I’d envisioned a bar somewhere in Paris or Tokyo or Bucharest.
“Is this the capital?” I asked. It seemed smaller than I’d have thought.
“No. It’s Brașov, a city in Transylvania.”
“Your home region?”
He ignored the question, but I was determined to figure out if he was Vlad the Impaler. He’d dodged the question every time before, and he was still doing it.
“Supernaturals prefer this region. It is full of magic and power. They’ve been here for hundreds of years. Come.” He gestured for me to follow, and I joined him, walking quickly toward an unassuming alley.
He entered the dark, narrow space. My heels clicked on the cobblestones, and I avoided cigarette butts as we passed beneath dim lamps to a little courtyard hidden between two of the buildings.
“You’re sure this is the right way?” I passed two men who stood against the wall, smoking.
“I am.” He turned and passed through an arch, climbing a set of stairs. I followed, joining him on the next floor. A plain brown door waited, and he knocked in a peculiar rhythm.
A moment later, it swung open, revealing a stone-faced man in a black tux. Behind him, I caught flashes of the most fabulous bar I’d ever seen.
Wow.
We were here.
The man nodded to the Devil, his gaze flickering with knowledge, and then he stepped back to admit us.
We entered silently, the Devil not acknowledging the doorman. I followed his lead and quickly took in our surroundings.
It was a gorgeous place, large and high ceilinged, with dim lighting provided by glittering chandeliers. Ebony tables gleamed beneath them, and the red velvet chairs looked like something out of an old movie from the thirties or forties. There were nooks and booths scattered along the sides, providing perfect secret places to do dangerous business.
The bar stretched along the back, a gleaming silver affair staffed by a pair of twins—two dark-haired women identical in every way.
I started to walk toward them, determined to get to the bottom of things, but the Devil’s hand gripped my arm gently. “Whoa, there.”
I looked back at him, startled.
“Subtle, remember?” he said.
“Right.” We clearly did business in different ways. He was all about sticking to the shadows and slipping information out of people. I was more of a charge-up-and-get-it-done kind of person.
Except it hadn’t worked well for me back in the real world. I’d ended up expelled from Police College and arrested for murder.
So….
Yeah, I could try things his way.
“Come, we’ll get a table.” He tucked my hand into the crook of his arm like we were on a date, and I followed. He leaned down and murmured, “Just play along.”
I shivered at the warmth of his breath against my skin and nodded.
People stared at us as we navigated the room. Everyone.
Did I really look that fabulous?
No.
I looked damned good, no doubt about it. But there were half a dozen women here who looked like supermodels.
People were staring at the Devil with the kind of avid interest usually reserved for celebrities and top-profile criminals.
In the magical world, it seemed he was both. Particularly here in Transylvania. There was a lot to this man that I didn’t know, and with every second that passed, I was sure he knew more about the dead guy than he let on.
I scanned the room, catching sight of several bulky men. Guards, I assumed. Each sported a perfect, identical suit over a muscular body. Their eyes were cold and determined.
The Devil was right about blending in before we pounced for info. We needed to lull them into thinking we were just on a date.
He took us to the best table in the place, one set away from the crowd in its own alcove. The walls were made of windows that allowed a fabulous view of the Eiffel tower.
“I thought we were in Brașov?” I asked.
“We are. It’s an illusion.”
“Wow. That’s phenomenal.” I felt like I could break through the glass and be in Paris.
“It changes daily, but I think the owner is partial to Paris.”
“You come here often?” Yes. An opportunity to dig.
“Not anymore.”
“Oh?” I tried to sound disinterested as I sat in the tiny but comfortable chair. “Why not?”
“Fine.” I looked around, inspecting other patrons with what I hoped was vague interest. In fact, I was ravenous for details.
“We’ll get a drink and see if you can glean anything with your magic,” he said.
“Right here?”
“Why not?”
“What if he didn't sit at this table? We can’t sit at all of them.”
“It will be good practice. And we need to sit for a bit and pretend to be here for a drink before we can go scouting for info.”
A server in a perfect black minidress approached. Before she reached the table, the Devil held up two fingers, and she nodded and disappeared.
I gave him an appraising look. “You might not have been here in a while, but they seem to know your order.”
“Indeed.” He didn’t elaborate, and I found myself desperate for more info.
The server returned moments later with a bottle of champagne and two flutes. Silently, she poured, then disappeared like a ghost. I had no eye for wine labels, but my first taste told me that this was the good stuff.
“Now, practice,” the Devil said. “Or we’ll save the city, and you’ll still end up in the dungeons of Black Church.”
I scowled at him. “I’ll get control of my magic.”
“Good. Show me.”
I drew in a steadying breath and rested my hand on the table, feeling the rich cloth beneath my fingers. Visions of people sitting here flashed in my mind, but none of them were our guy.
“I don’t see him,” I said.
“Can you ask a specific question?”
“I can try, but it doesn’t always work.”
“Let me help.”
My gaze flicked up to his. “How?”
“May I touch your arm?”
“Um, yes?”
His fingertips rested lightly against my bare forearm, a simple touch, but I liked it—too much. Magic buzzed over my skin. His magic.
I shivered. “What are you doing?”
“Think of it as a transfer of power. I’m giving you some of my control. The connection will help you find your own.”