Once Bitten (Shadow Guild: The Rebel #1)(43)

The evil that gripped us so tightly seemed to loosen, but Coraline didn’t stop chanting. Her brow furrowed from the effort, and she grimaced. “Powerful dark magic.”

Her own power continued to work, and I struggled, finally able to move my limbs a bit. Coraline grunted and forced more of her magic toward us.

“Hurry,” Mac said. “Guards are coming. Humans.”

“You idiots.” Coraline shoved another blast of magic at us, and the darkness that bound me finally disappeared.

I gasped, scrambling to my feet.

“The code, Mac,” Coraline demanded.

“Macbeth O’Connell is the most amazing Magica ever,” Mac said.

“Seriously?” Coraline raised her brows.

“Say that, and Hecate will shut up.” Mac grinned. “Can we get a ride back to Guild City with your nice portal there?”

“No.” Coraline and her pink light disappeared.

“Damn it.” Mac turned to me. “We need to get a move on.”

“No kidding.”

I turned back to the body as a pair of guards burst into the room. Both were men of average height but grim demeanors, though their faces blanched when they saw the results of my amateur autopsy spread out around the room.

“Raise your hands,” demanded the younger one, who couldn’t have been more than twenty-five.

Instead, I shoved my hand into my pocket and drew out a freezing charm. I chucked the thing at them, praying it would work. The dusty blue cloud exploded into the air, and the men froze solid.

“That ought to buy us a few minutes.” I turned back to the body. There was no point in trying to put it back together. The guards had seen what we were doing. Fortunately, I still didn’t look like me.

I grabbed a plastic bag and shoved my gross gloves in them, then put it in my pocket, not wanting to leave anything with my fingerprints behind. I put my leather gloves on, then wiped the scissors and clamp off with a paper towel, getting rid of any prints, and returned them to the table.

Mac and I hurried from the room, skirting around the frozen guards and moving as quickly as we could without full-on running. We made it to the top floor and strode toward the main exit.

I prayed there were no other guards in the building.

We were nearly to the main doors when they opened, and two new cops walked in.

Shit.

They both got a good look at our faces, and I prayed the potions were still working.

“Other way,” I whispered, and we spun on our heels and hightailed it deeper into the building.

“Hey, you there!” shouted one of the cops.

“Run.” I sprinted down the hall, fumbling in my pocket for the other freezing potion bomb.

Finally, my fingers closed around it. I grabbed it and chucked it behind me, looking back in time to see it explode in front of one of the cops. He froze solid, but the other one wasn’t in the line of fire. He kept running for us, face twisted in a grimace.

I sprinted on, pushing myself until my lungs burned. Mac easily kept up, as her legs were longer than mine. We raced down the hall, taking the first right, and sprinted to the end. An office on our right had an open door, and we dashed inside. A large window beckoned, showing the street beyond.

“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.”