Once Bitten (Shadow Guild: The Rebel #1)(53)

What the hell was happening?

Were two enormous, handsome, powerful men fighting over me?

Because that was sure as hell what it felt like. And boy, was that unusual.

“Be careful.” Quinn gave me one last look before he turned and entered his building.

“Come on.” The Devil’s voice was cold, but the chill I heard was not directed at me. It was almost as if he could shoot icicles at Quinn’s retreating back.

Together, we strode in silence toward the city gate. I didn’t mention the encounter or ask the Devil about his behavior. Underneath his cool exterior, I sensed that he’d surprised himself. Or maybe I was making that up.

Seeing the two of them together had been a revelation, though.

If I were wise, I’d be interested in Quinn. Handsome, strong, clever, nice.

Instead, I wanted the Devil of Darkvale—also handsome and strong and clever, but scary and powerful and cold and mysterious.

Idiot.

I sneaked a glance at him, noting the way the sunlight gleamed off his dark hair. Hang on… “You can go in the sunlight?”

“Did you expect me to burst into flame?”

“Maybe.”

“No, that only happens in a church.”

“Really?”

“Also no.”

I grumbled. “Where are we headed?”

“London. Your London.”

Damn. I didn’t have a face-concealing potion, and there wasn’t time to find one. Not if we wanted to save this person, whoever they were. I’d just have to keep my head ducked.

Instead of going to the gate that Mac and I had been using, the Devil led me to the other side of town, back toward his club.

I frowned. “The gate isn’t this way.”

“I use a private gate.”

I raised my brows. “You’re the only one?”

He nodded.

I hadn’t been in Guild City long, but even I knew that had to be a big deal.

The Devil led me toward the tower that contained his bar and, presumably, his home.

“Have you lived here long?” I asked as we approached the two guards at the door.

“A while.”

“That’s a non-answer.”

He shot me a rare smile. “You’re clever.”

“I know I am, now answer the question.”

“Too late.” He gestured to the guards, who stood only several meters away. “We’ve arrived.”

They opened the doors, and we strode in. The Devil nodded at the hostess, then led me down several halls. We bypassed the club portion entirely, sticking to the dimly lit passageways that were currently empty. I wondered where he lived in here—it certainly couldn’t be his office, and the place was huge—but there were no clues.

We reached an unassuming black door a moment later, and he pressed his hand to it. I could feel the faintest swell of magic in the air—it seemed to take my breath away, like the downward plunge on a roller coaster—and the door disappeared.

“Come.” He stepped through first, and I followed.

Magic seemed to suck me in, and a moment later, I stood in a dark alley.

“We’re near the Haunted Hound,” he said. “Only a few streets away.”

“How do we find our guy?”

The Devil pulled a small compass from his pocket. I peered at it more closely, realizing that it wasn’t marked with north and south like a normal compass. There were no headings at all, in fact. Instead, the little red dial just pointed forward and slightly to the left.

“Let’s go.” The Devil strode away, and I followed him.

As we exited the alley onto a busy street full of shops and restaurants, I pulled my hood up to conceal my hair. I kept my chin tucked as I walked and stayed close to the Devil. We left Covent Garden and walked farther, finally reaching a shadier neighborhood that wasn’t nearly as nice. The crowd had thinned out, and the quality of the restaurants and bars had severely declined.

The neighborhoods had one thing in common, though: my face, plastered on posters in several windows.

“We’re not far now,” he said.

“How can you tell?”

“It vibrates as we get closer.” The Devil pointed to a shoddy-looking pub on the corner. “I think that’s our target.”

Just beyond the pub, a policeman stood with his back to us. We were only about ten meters apart, and if he came this way…

As if he could sense my discomfort, the Devil said, “You’re worried he’ll recognize you from the wanted posters.”

“Yes.”

The policeman shifted as if he were about to turn, and I grabbed the Devil’s arm. “Come on. Into this alley.”

We darted into the narrow passageway, which was distressingly empty. There were no rubbish bins or old boxes to hide behind, and it was tragically shallow. The Devil peeked around the edge of the building to check on the policeman, then ducked back in.

“He’s coming.” His serious gaze met mine. “I can take care of him.”

“No.” Whatever the Devil would do to him wouldn't be good, even if he didn’t hurt him. I didn’t want him using his mind control power on some unsuspecting policeman.

An idea flared to life.

Excitement and fear rushed through me as I grabbed the Devil by the jacket and pulled him closer to me. His firelight scent wrapped around me, and he towered a good head over me.