“One of them might have seen something,” said Quinn. “And perhaps they don’t realize.”

Mac nodded, a thoughtful gleam in her eye. “Tell you what…while you go to the Church on the Hill, I’ll go talk to those people and see what my seer power tells me. Maybe they saw something that didn’t stand out but was important. With any luck, I might get a clue and be able to trace his steps backward. Maybe we can still find that key.”

“I like that plan.” It seemed less dangerous for Mac, and we needed to find the damned key.

The Devil

Carrow and I left the Haunted Hound ten minutes later. Her three friends had come up with a plan to search for the missing key, and we were headed to the Church on the Hill.

In silence, we returned to Guild City. It was an overcast day when we appeared on the other side of the magical barrier, but the faint light suited Carrow. She seemed to glow despite it.

“Where is this church?” she asked.

“The edge of town, on the hill.”

Her gaze moved in the direction I’d indicated. You couldn’t see the church from here, not with the way the land rose, but the changing geography was obvious.

“How is there a hill in the middle of London?”

“Magic.”

Her eyes narrowed on me. “Is it true you built this place when you left Transylvania?”

“I’m one man. I can’t build a city.” That part was the truth. But she wasn’t wrong, either. I’d played a role in creating Guild City in the image of the walled cities of my homeland. But now wasn’t the time to talk about it. “Come.”

She grumbled but followed. I had the distinct impression I wasn’t off the hook, that she was biding her time.

I’d seen Carrow when she really wanted answers. There was no hiding from her.

We strode across the city, and I was more aware than ever of people crossing the street to avoid me. My reputation had come in exceedingly handy over the years, but now…

I glanced at Carrow and wondered what she thought.

There was enough humanity left in me that I knew it was odd to be feared. Not desirable when trying to convince someone you weren’t the devil incarnate.

Despite my name.

“Call me Grey.” The words left my lips before I’d even processed them.

She whipped her head around to stare at me. We were passing a shop that sold potions of some kind, and they were exploding in the window behind her. The clouds of gold and silver dust emphasized the look of surprise on her face.

“Really?” she asked.

I nodded. “It is my name, after all.”

“Um…okay. Maybe.”

Discomfort prickled against my neck. I turned back to the street and resisted rubbing my chest. It felt strange.

This all felt strange.

Fortunately, we reached the edge of town a moment later. Thank fates—a distraction from my idiocy.

The hill rose steeply here, small buildings crawling up the sides. They were primarily residential, though it wasn’t the nicer part of town.

“Who lives here?” Carrow asked.

“Generally dark magic practitioners.”

“Evil magic?”

“Normally, yes. Depending on how you use it.”

“The Council allows them to stay here?”

“If they pay the right dues.”

“Through you?”

I shook my head. “I don’t tend to deal in dark magic. There’s enough money to be made on the sidelines of light.”

She gave me a considering look, and a strong desire for her approval flowed through me. I shook my head to drive off the feeling and turned back to the covered stairs that stretched up the hill. The rickety wooden steps were covered by a dilapidated peaked wooden roof that protected them from the rain.

Carrow stepped closer and peered up the stairwell, which extended more than a hundred meters upward. The space was narrow and dark, with shafts of light shining through the sides and the holes in the ceiling.

She whistled low. “Must take a lot of magic to hide a hill like this in London.”

“An immense amount.” I’d helped collect much of it when the city was founded. “There’s a series of magical batteries that help power the spell that hides us.”

She turned to me, her brows raised. “Magical batteries?”

I nodded. “Certain objects possess more magic than others, either because of their history or what they are. They can be difficult to find, but the power in them can be used for many things.”

“Could your enemies be threatening those?”

“Possibly. They’re so well protected and hidden that I doubt they could find one. But it’s always possible. If they are planning to blow up Black Church, I don’t know how one would play a role in that.”

She shivered, then began to climb the wooden stairs. I followed right behind her. Light streamed through the darkness, and as we climbed, it grew colder and colder.

She looked over her shoulder. “Is this the haunting?”

“Yes.”

Snow began to fall outside, totally out of place in London at this time of year. She shivered hard and hugged her arms to her chest.

I stripped off my jacket and handed it to her.

She gave me a confused look.

“Put it on.” Protectiveness itched under my skin, an uncomfortably unfamiliar feeling that I couldn’t resist.

“No, thanks.”

“You’re not built for this cold. Put it on.”

“Neither are you.”

“Of course I am. I was born in the mountains of Transylvania.” I scowled at her. “Besides, your shivering is distracting me.”

“Fine.” She tugged the jacket on, and satisfaction surged. “Thank you.”

We hurried up the steps, pushing our way through the cold wind that whipped snow across our cheeks. A shiver rippled over my skin, but I ignored it. As we neared the top, the prickle of dark magic grew stronger.

“Ugh, that feels awful,” Carrow said.

“Dark magic protections. Be alert.”

The light at the top of the staircase beckoned, and we stepped out into the pale, watery sunlight of an overcast day. The snow stopped abruptly, and the simple church rose tall in front of us. White plaster covered the outside, and the windows gleamed in the light.

“We’re at the back side. We need to get around to the front.” I eyed the graveyard that surrounded it. “Keep an eye on the stones.”

She shot a wary glance at them, then moved toward the church. We stayed close to the wall as we walked, but our presence seemed to irritate something. Faint magic vibrated on the air, prickling and sharp.

There was an eerie howl from the cemetery, and Carrow edged closer to my side. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her not to worry—that I would protect her.

I bit it back.

It was true. I would protect her.

But she wouldn’t want to hear it.

And it was…unlike me. We didn’t have that kind of relationship.

The earth beneath the gravestones shifted, dirt tumbling over rocks. The scent of death wafted toward us.

“Move quickly.” I picked up the pace, and we ran for the door.

The grass over the gravestones broke apart, dirt rising through the cracks.

Bodies would come next.

I raised a hand, and magic surfaced and flowed through me. I directed it toward the bodies in the graves.

Stay down.

It was hard work—nearly impossible—but nothing rose as we hurried toward the church. Finally, the large doors loomed in front of us. I kept my magic flowing as I pulled one open, ushering her inside.

Carrow sprinted in and spun around to peer out. I darted in after her, looking behind to check the graveyard.

The dirt lay still. Nothing had risen, thank fates.

“The protective spell has died now that we’ve entered the church.” I shut the door behind us. “At least, the spell on the graveyard.”

“Were there really zombies back there?” Carrow stripped out of my jacket and handed it to me.

I took it. “I believe so. Something was trying to rise out there.”

“And you stopped them with your magic? How?”

“I can compel people to tell me things—but it is their mind I am controlling, not their bodies. Their will is often too strong for me to do that. But the dead…”

“Easier?”

I nodded. “I couldn't make them tap dance, but that worked.”

“Thank God, because I have no interest in meeting a zombie.” She turned to look inside the church.

I followed her, my footsteps ringing in the silence. It was a quiet, simple space. The arched ceiling was plain and white. Dust covered the pews and altars, and the frescoes on the walls were faded and dim. The place echoed with silent emptiness.

I stepped farther into the church, searching for a clue. It had been centuries since I’d been here, and I’d never had reason to explore. “Now, where is our crypt?”

Together, we searched the interior perimeter of the small church. There were no doors that led underground. It was like our quarry had disappeared into thin air.

“Were they really ever here?” Carrow asked. “Or did we beat them? Because nothing looks disturbed.”

“The entrance to the crypts could be around the outside.”

Carrow shuddered. “I don’t want to spend too much time out there unless we have to.”

“Agreed.” I strode up to one of the frescoes, which depicted a service in the church. It was strange for wall paintings like this to show scenes from the church within which they were placed, but the Church on the Hill was anything but normal.

“Look at this.” I pointed to the painting, which seemed to show figures descending stairs in the floor.

“They’re at the front of the altar.” Carrow hurried toward the dusty platform depicted in the painting, and I followed.

There, perfectly inset into the floor, was a door, unnoticeable until we were standing on top of it.