“Maybe you should stop.” Eve’s voice trembled from the sheer force of the air that vibrated all around us.

No. I couldn’t.

I had to keep going. The building called to me. The spell called to me.

The roaring grew louder, the wind whipping my hair back from my face. My eyes watered, and I squinted at the words, barely able to see them through the tears.

They swam into focus, and I kept going, my voice rising.

“Stop,” Eve shouted.

“It’s too dangerous,” Quinn said.

I ignored them. Nothing could make me stop now.

It began to pour, massive waves of water coming from the sky. Thunder boomed, and lightning cracked.

“Eve, I think—”

Grey’s words were cut off by a blast of power that blew him back from me. I remained standing as the dark magic washed over me in a mushroom cloud, rolling out from the wall. As it passed by, the force of the power shriveled the words in my throat.

I staggered, my vision going blind.

The screaming wind reached a terrible crescendo, then died. The rain stopped. The wind ceased.

Gasping, I blinked.

My vision returned, and I realized that I was staring straight up at the sky.

I was lying on the ground.

Holy hell, I’d fallen over and not even noticed. My muscles ached as I dragged myself upright, the gravel biting into my palms.

Blearily, I took stock of my situation. My back was to the wall. Across the courtyard, I spotted Mac and Seraphia, both collapsed on the bench. The others lay scattered between them and me.

Panic flared. I scrambled to my feet and raced toward my friends, fear screaming inside me.

I fell to my knees beside them, anxiously searching them for signs of life.

“Mac! Seraphia!” I shook their shoulders. “Are you okay?”

Mac coughed and sat up, her face pale and her eyes shadowed. “I’m fine.”

Slowly, Seraphia joined her. She rubbed her face with a shaking hand, her gaze meeting mine. “Is it done?”

“I think so. Do you feel better?”

“Um…not really?”

Mac looked over my shoulder, her gaze widening. “Holy fates. Look at that.”

A chill raced over me as I turned.

The wall was gone.

In its place stood a ramshackle tower. The building was ancient and beautiful, though in ill repair. Large glass windows overlooked the abandoned courtyard, and the stone was a fine, pale gray.

“That’s been there all along.” Awe filled me as I stood. “Just hidden.”

“Look at Councilor Rasla.” Mac’s voice was soft.

I turned to find his statue glowing with a faint light.

“Right before the wave of magic hit us, some of it rushed into him,” Mac said.

I stared at the statue, but my attention was dragged back to the building. It called to me so fiercely that I couldn’t resist it. My skin vibrated with awareness as I walked toward it, curiosity pulling me.

Mac joined me, her steps slow. She wasn’t better yet. I could feel that as well as I could feel the pull from the tower. Seraphia joined us.

I stopped about five meters away from it. “What’s going on here?”

“I have no idea,” Mac said. “But it pulls at me.”

“Me, too,” Seraphia said.

Eve joined us, her expression grave. “I had no idea this building was here.” She turned to look at Grey, who had stood. “Did you know about this?”

He stared at it, jaw tight and eyes shadowed. “No. But I must have. I played a role in determining the positioning of all guild towers, and yet…this one is gone from my memory.”

“Hidden by whoever cursed you.” I continued toward the building, desperate to touch it.

Mac and Seraphia stuck by my side, seemingly as compelled as I was. The stone walls and glittering glass called to me. The massive wooden door was a beacon that beckoned me.

“Stop!” Eve said. “Don’t go any closer. There’s still dark magic there. We didn’t get rid of all of it.”

I swallowed hard, trying without success to fight the pull. “There are answers in there. Why didn’t the spell work to break the curse?”

“It worked, partially,” Quinn said. He joined Mac and gripped her arm, forcing her to stop approaching the tower. She struggled but was too weak to fight him. “It cursed you, Mac. You shouldn’t go any closer.”

“He’s right.” I was nearly there now, my attention half captured by the stone and glass structure. “Same for Seraphia.”

Eve grabbed Seraphia, stopping her from going any closer. Grey approached me, but I shook my head. “It didn’t curse me before. I’ll be fine. And we need to know what this place is. Why didn't the spell work fully?”

I could still feel the dark magic radiating from it.

“Maybe there’s something inside that is powering the spell,” Eve said. “If we could get in and destroy it, we could stop it.”

That made sense. I pressed on, reaching the front door. My skin tingled with awareness as I stared at it.

So close.

I was so close to something, but I had no idea what. This tower appeared haunted, the magic that surrounded it steeped in history and evil.

And yet…

I was drawn to it.

Was I evil? Had Orion’s Stone turned me?

“Are you sure about this?” Grey stood close to my side, his voice low.

“I am.” Trembling, I raised my hand. “I need to know.”

I reached for the door and tried to open it. It didn’t budge. A forcefield prickled against my fingers, burning.

“It’s shielded,” I said. “No way to get in. Probably not even through a window.”

Next to me, Grey bent down and picked up a large rock. He looked at me, a question in his eyes.

I nodded. “Try it.”

He stepped back and hurled the rock at one of the lower windows. When it reached the glass, the rock exploded into a thousand tiny fragments.

“We won’t try to break in by force, then.” I allowed my magic to flow toward the surface, calling upon my gift.

What are you? What is this curse that darkens your stone and stains your glass?

My fingertips pressed to the wooden door, and a shock of awareness raced up my arms. My questions went unanswered.

Why is this tower cursed?

Information blasted into my head. Images flashed—Black Church, an office, scattered papers, books, a man.

Ubhan.

The sorcerer on the Council.

The knowledge hit me like a ton of stone, so hard that pain flashed through my mind, and blackness took me.

14

The Devil

Carrow went limp, and her knees buckled. I swept her into my arms before she could fall, my heart thundering. She hung limply, unconscious.

“What’s wrong with her?” Panic sounded in Eve’s voice.

“I don’t know.” I cradled her against me as I awkwardly reached around to feel for her pulse, fear chilling me. I found the steady beat thudding beneath her skin. “She’s alive, thank fates.”

“We’re closest to the Haunted Hound,” Quinn said. “Let’s go there. I have something that could help revive her.”

I nodded, turning to hurry toward the gate that would lead to the pub. Quinn and Eve helped Mac and Seraphia, and we reached the gate a few minutes later. I strode through first, determined to get Carrow to safety. She felt so fragile in my arms that it made worry twist my insides.

The ether depositing us in the darkened hallway of the Haunted Hound. I marched into the main part of the pub, noticing the half-dozen patrons lingering over their pints. I glared at them. “Leave.”

Every single one of them leapt to their feet and rushed out into the night. The bartender—a woman I didn’t recognize—glared at me.

Quinn stepped up beside me. “Now, was that necessary?”

“I don’t know, but it felt good.” I carried Carrow toward the large armchairs by the roaring fire and set her down in one of them.

The ghostly hound lying in front of the flames lifted his head to blink sleepily at us. I ignored the beast. Kneeling at Carrow’s side, I gently patted her pale cheek. “Carrow, wake up.”

Eve, Mac, and Seraphia joined us, the two cursed women taking other chairs. Cordelia appeared a moment later, sitting on the floor at the base of Carrow’s chair. Concern gleamed in her dark eyes. I felt it happen. Is she all right?

“I don’t know.”

Cordelia twisted her little paws and climbed up next to Carrow on the chair. Squeezing her fluffy bulk onto the seat, she stared up at her.

Quinn appeared a moment later, a small vial in his hands. He uncorked it and handed it to me. “Smelling salts.”

The fumes were enough to make my eyes water, and I gently wafted it under Carrow's nose as Cordelia cringed away.

Carrow gasped and sat upright, smacking the salts away from her face. She looked around, her expression confused and eyes frantic. “What happened?”

“You passed out at the tower,” I said.

Everyone hovered around, staring at her in concern.

She blinked, her expression calming a bit. “I remember. I remember.” She rubbed her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “Just let me think.”

The bartender came up with a tray of beers and set them on the small table by one of the chairs. “You look like you could use these.”

“Thanks, Kate,” Quinn said. “Do we have any sandwiches left from earlier?”

She nodded. “I’ll bring them out.”

Carrow’s eyes flickered open. “It’s the sorcerers.”

“The sorcerers?” I frowned. “Just like Madame Duvoir said.”

“Exactly.” Carrow nodded. “She said that the curse could only be placed by a sorcerer, and I saw Ubhan’s office in Black Church when I asked what had cursed the building.”

“He did it?” Seraphia’s eyes widened. “But he’s on the Council.”