Cursed Mate (Shadow Guild: The Rebel Book 5) Read online

  “You will. But first, you must open the book and find your past.”

  “Seraphia is working on the book.”

  “And she will be successful,” the seer said. “But it will take your blood to finish the spell that will open the book. Then you must find the raven.”

  “What about the raven? And I’ll just read all the answers in the book?” It definitely sounded too easy, especially given how difficult and unpredictable my magic could be. My skills were improving, but erratically.

  It laughed—or at least made a sound that might have been a laugh, raspy and rough. “No, nothing so simple. But it will be a guide, helping you along the path to discovering what you are and what you can do. Once you know, you will be able to save them both.”

  “Both? Grey and me?”

  The seer disappeared, its form fading out into mist that once again filled the chamber. I looked at Grey, almost more confused than when I’d arrived.

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “That was…not bad.”

  “Not bad? I have no idea what to do.”

  “No, we don’t know exactly what to do. But we have plenty of clues now. And the seer is gone. We need to leave.”

  I nodded, my mind racing to catalog and memorize everything the seer had told me. Obviously, we needed to get to Seraphia immediately. And the raven…

  We had to find that bird, whatever that meant.

  “Can we transport?” I asked Grey, wanting to avoid the trip back through the castle.

  “Not until we are outside. Silviu would never let his prey go so easily.” He turned and headed toward the stairs.

  I followed, racing up behind him.

  The corridors were empty as we hurried toward the exit. The bodies of the guards lay still and undisturbed, and I began to hope that we would make it out of there without trouble.

  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 an
d 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.

  “And your father?”

  “An alcoholic. Barely knew him, even though we lived in the same house.” I shuddered at the memory. He occupied the place of bogeyman in my mind, a shadowy figure whom I’d forced into the closet.

  “He sounds like a miserable bastard.”

  “He was. Logically, I know that alcoholism is a disease, and part of me feels for him. He never got the help he needed. But then there’s the rest of me…the child that lived with him. That feared him…”

  He reached for my hand, gripping it tight. “I wish I could go back and save you.”

  The tiniest bit of warmth glowed against the coldness of my soul. “Thanks. But it didn’t last forever. I grew up and got out. Met Beatrix. Things were better then.”

  My throat tightened at the memory of my friend. A bird’s cry sounded from high above, and I looked up.

  The raven flew overhead, following me once again. We were nearly to the library, only a few blocks away, but quite far from Eve’s shop, where the raven usually spent its time.

  What was it with that bird? If only the seer hadn’t been so opaque.

  “Were both your parents magical?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Not my father. And my mother…I don’t know.”

  “You don’t think of her?”

  “Absolutely not.” Just the idea of it made my heart hurt. “There was a time when I wondered about her. I was still little enough to have fantasies that she would come and get me. But those got me nowhere. Eventually, I grew old enough to realize they were ridiculous and hurting me. So I stopped thinking of her.” My technique had worked for the longest time, too.

  No longer.

  “That takes a powerful will.”

  “One thing I’ve got. I don’t know when to quit—even when it would be smart.” My drive had kept me doggedly going after criminals in the human world. Had gotten me arrested for a murder I didn’t commit. “So my mother must have been a supernatural?”

  “Yes, more than likely. Magical talent is most often genetic. Given what the seer said, I think that’s the case for you.”

  I nodded. How such an ancient book was going to tell me about my past, I had no idea. But it was our only lead.

  We arrived at the library a moment later. Golden light shone from the small windows on either side of the door, which was unlocked. I slipped inside, Grey close at my heels.

  “Back here,” Seraphia shouted.

  I followed her voice toward the rear of the library, where she’d set up a workstation at a large wooden table. It was covered with books and various small tools—knives and brushes and little pots that glowed with light.

  She looked up from her seat at the table, her dark hair messy and her eyes shadowed. She still wore the ratty T-shirt and jeans, and she looked like a far different woman than the one I’d first met outside my shop.

  Something was up with Seraphia.

  I hurried to her side. “Have you been working on this all day?”

  “Yes.”

  “You look exhausted.” I stared at the book, hoping it hadn’t been completely devouring her time and energy.

  “It’s not the book’s fault. I’ve got some…things going on.” She shook her head. “But don’t worry about that. Look here.” She pointed to the book, which lay on the table underneath a small lamp, then maneuvered a large magnifying glass over the golden clasp.

  Grey crowded close, and we both peered at the book. Beneath the magnifying glass, it was possible to see tiny grooves carved into the metal. She pointed to them. “This is the lock. There’s no key for it, but I think you’re meant to put a liquid in there. It would travel through the grooves, into the interior, then open it. But I have no idea what type of liquid, and if we get it wrong, the journal will probably self-destruct.”

  “It’s my blood,” I said, remembering w
hat the seer had told me.

  Seraphia’s gaze flicked to me, eyebrows raised. “Blood makes sense. How do you know it’s meant to be yours?”

  “A seer told us. It’s something to do with my past.”

  “An ancestor of yours might have written this book, then?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Okay, then.” She pointed to the book, indicating the three small holes drilled into the metal clasp. “I think two of these holes are meant to trick you. Ignore them. Place a small drop of blood in this hole near the edge. That’s the proper starting point.”

  I drew in an unsteady breath, wondering what we were going to find. It’d been so long since I’d thought of my past, and now I’d been handed a gift.

  “Here.” Seraphia handed me a small dagger. “It’s clean.”

  I took it, then raised it to my finger and pricked. The blood welled, and I dripped a tiny droplet into the hole in the golden clasp. Through the magnifying glass, we watched the blood race along the intricately curved channels. It shot through quickly, and magic began to glow around the book, brighter and brighter, until the clasp was so brilliant, I had to squint. With a pop, the clasp broke open, and the front cover lifted slightly.

  “Perfect!” Seraphia picked up the book and handed it to me. “You should maybe read it on your own, if it’s about you.”

  “Thanks.” I took the book, feeling the faintest pulse of magic.

  She shooed me toward the door. “Now go. I have some things I need to do.”

  “Thank you.”

  She nodded and led us out, then shut the door quickly behind us.

  Grey turned to me. “Let me walk you back.”

  I nodded, tucking the small book into my pocket.

  “You’ll read it tonight?” he asked.

  “That’s my plan. I don’t think I could wait any longer.”

  “I don’t blame you. And you found it in the Shadow Guild tower?”

  I nodded. “Eve’s raven pointed it out to me. Landed on the box and started pecking like its life depended on it.”

  “That’s odd.”

  As if it had heard us speaking about it, the raven appeared overhead. It flew below the low-hanging clouds, swooping silently through the air. I thought of the seer’s words: find the raven.