“Don’t know.”

“What did he look like?” the Devil asked.

“Never saw his face. Bloke wore a cape the whole time. Hood covered everything.”

“Do you remember anything distinct about him?”

“No.”

I looked at the murderer, feeling tightness in my throat. “Last year, did you kill a blonde girl with a raven tattooed on her back?”

The Devil growled. “Tell the truth.”

The man’s brow furrowed as he looked at me. “Yeah, I killed her for the client. He wanted another heart. What of it?”

Bile surged in my throat. My fist flashed up, and I punched him square in the face.

He slumped backward, unconscious, and I shook out my fist. “I want to kill him.”

The Devil nodded and dropped the murderer. He collapsed off his bar stool. “You can do so later, if you want.”

I drew in an unsteady breath, knowing that he meant it. I’d never do it, though. As much as I wanted to pay him back for what he had done to Beatrix, committing murder myself wasn’t the answer. I’d figure this out after we saved the other woman.

I looked toward the window. It was nearing dusk, and tonight was the full moon. I looked at the Devil. “We don’t have long.”

The Devil nodded and climbed off his stool, then patted down the unconscious man.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

“The dagger.”

“Oh, of course. Sorry I knocked him out before you could ask him. I was just so…”

“Angry.” The Devil stood, an expression of understanding on his face. “I get it. Don’t worry, the dagger isn’t important.”

“Thanks.” I shook my arms, trying to drive off some of the tension I felt.

The Devil spoke into the little magical gadget strapped to his wrist. “Come into the pub. There’s someone you need to pick up.”

At my feet, the murderer groaned and staggered to his feet The Devil grabbed him by the arm. The bastard jerked away, but the Devil was too fast.

He pulled him close, his teeth bared. “Run and I will tear your throat out,” he said in a low, calm voice that sent shivers down my spine.

The man wilted.

I didn’t blame him.

“And this is for Carrow’s friend, Beatrix.” The Devil punched him hard in the face, knocking him cold, and let the body fall.

“Thanks.” I appreciated that punch more than a million roses.

The Devil nodded, glaring contemptuously at the hitman at his feet.

Two enormous men walked into the pub, each dressed in dark trousers and commando sweaters. Tactical wear, if I had to call it anything. They strode toward the Devil.

“Is this the guy, boss?” one of the men asked. He had wavy auburn hair and broad, handsome features and reminded me of a lion. His shifter form, if I had to bet.. I thought I recognized him from the Devil’s office the first day I’d met him.

“Yes. Take him back and hold him for further questioning.”

The Devil’s shifter bodyguards dragged the man out of the pub. The Devil turned toward the bartender, who raised his hands and shrank against the shelves of liquor bottles. “I won’t say anything, I swear,” the poor man babbled.

“No, you won’t speak of this to anyone. You will forget it immediately.” I could feel the Devil’s magic in the air, and the man’s eyes went blank as he nodded.

“Good man.” The Devil turned to me. “Now, what do you say we go save this woman and finish getting your vengeance?”

18

Carrow

There were still six hours until midnight, and I insisted on going back to the Haunted Hound immediately. I couldn’t linger on the streets of London, and we were closer to that gate than to the Devil’s.

As we walked, images of the murderer flashed in my mind.

“You all right?” the Devil asked.

“Just glad we got him.” I drew in a shuddery breath. “I want to kill him. And the damn necromancer who hired him.”

“We’ll get him, too. I promise.”

Oh, we would. I didn’t relish the thought of blood on my hands, but if I had to kill the necromancer, I’d do it with delight.

We reached the alley only a few minutes later, and returning to the magical world felt as natural as breathing. I pressed my hands to the dingy, unwelcoming door of the Haunted Hound, and the magic admitted me, swinging the door open.

I looked back at the Devil, wondering if he would look uncomfortable, since he was clearly on Quinn’s turf.

No, he didn’t.

Of course he didn’t. Nothing made him uncomfortable.

He strode into the crowded little pub like he owned the place. Quinn stood behind the bar, along with Mac, who wiped down the gleaming wood with a cloth. My friends avoided the Devil’s gaze, looking at me instead from across the room.

“Are you okay?” Quinn asked.

“Did you get your target?” Mac set down the rag and leaned on the bar.

“Yes to both,” I said. “Mostly.”

I approached the bar, the Devil at my side.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Quinn said to him.

“You’re right. I should get out more.” The Devil’s words were dry.

“Update us, already,” Mac demanded.

I told them about the hired gun and the necromancer, then asked, “Do you have a piece of paper? We need to find a church, and I don’t recognize it from the vision I had. Maybe you will.”

Quinn nodded and disappeared to the back. He returned a moment later with a notepad and pencil and pushed them toward me.

I was a terrible artist, but I did my best to sketch the church from memory. I was most interested in capturing the curved walls and low, almost flat dome, which seemed like the most identifiable parts of the church.

My three companions leaned over the bar as I worked, watching the place come to life. I was painfully aware of the Devil at my side. There was a good half-meter between us, but the air between us tingled with something magical. My whole body was alive with awareness of him.

Finally, I finished and sat back, staring at the drawing. I blinked at it. Now that I’d drawn it all out… “I think I recognize it. Is that Temple Church near the Inns of Court?”

“I think it is,” Quinn said.

“But it’s a church for humans.” I said. It had been built in the twelfth century by the Knights Templar. “Would a necromancer really go there?”

“Some places are multi-use, yes,” the Devil said. “He would cast a spell to keep humans away, most likely. But there are many places in the human realm that are imbued with great magic. This is likely one of them.”

I stared at the picture. “And at midnight, he’s probably going to ritualistically murder our abducted person to create some kind of deadly magic.”

“I’ll see if Miranda can find out what kind of necromancy can be accomplished with a heart, a liver, and a living victim.”

Just the idea made me shudder, but I nodded.

“So what are we going to do?” Mac said. “Ambush the church?”

I looked at her gratefully. “You don’t have to come.”

“Of course I do. You need help, and you’re my friend.”

Warmth surged through me. “Thanks.”

“I’ll close down the pub,” Quinn said.

“Thank you.” I wasn’t going to refuse an any offer of help. A woman’s life was at stake, and I still needed vengeance for Beatrix.

At eleven p.m., we took up our places near Temple Church. The church sat in the middle of a small graveyard surrounded by tall buildings, the entire thing behind a gate that we’d had to climb over. The Devil and I stood in the shadows alongside Mac, Eve, and Quinn. Eve’s raven sat in a nearby tree. I touched the bag of potion bombs that Eve had given me, grateful for the magical backup.

The Devil had brought his own security, half a dozen shifters crouched in the shadows in human form. I’d briefly spotted Quinn chatting with them, and he’d fit in like a pea in a pod. There was a certain energy about him when he was with the pack that made his shifter qualities evident.

“I think I see someone coming.” The Devil murmured the words against my ear, and I shivered.

“Where?”

“To your right.”

I looked in the direction he indicated, spotting a couple walking down the street. They would have had to have come over the gate, too, so they definitely weren’t supposed to be there. I tucked myself deeper into the shadows to watch them approach. Two men, both of average height and looks.

“I think I recognize them,” Mac murmured. “A seer and a sorcerer from Guild City. They pass through the pub sometimes but rarely stop to drink.”

They reached the edge of the small graveyard and hesitated briefly. I squinted as I watched them, the full moon illuminating their movements. They gestured—a kind of circular movement with a flick at the end. The faintest flash of light appeared, and they stepped forward.

For a brief minute, the air around them turned a faint blue. Then they were on the other side of the barrier, and it disappeared.

“A magical shield,” Eve whispered. “Only supernaturals can enter the graveyard as long as it is up.”

“And only if they make that gesture,” Quinn said.

The figures were blurry now, the barrier seeming to make them almost invisible to the eye. Someone walking by probably wouldn’t notice them.

I strained my eyes, trying to glean any more clues about what was going on inside. We were only an hour from midnight, the most dangerous time for our victim. We didn’t want to rush in and scare off the necromancer and lose her, so we were trying to play it slow and careful.

It was making me antsy as hell, though.

“They’re putting something on,” Quinn murmured.

As I watched, the blurry figures swirled cloaks around their shoulders and pulled up the hoods.

“Okay, that’s some creepy ritual stuff,” Mac said.