I quirked an eyebrow at him, and he shifted, clearing his throat. “You look lovely. Both of you.”
“Thanks, mate.” Mac grinned cheekily and pointed at him. “Be careful with Carrow. Because I’ll come for you if anything happens to her.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
Mac nodded, then gave me a hug. “I’ll see you later. I’ve got some business to attend to. But call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks.”
She skipped off down the street, and I turned to the Devil. “Do we leave from here?”
“Yes.” He held out a hand, and I looked at it but didn't take it. “We’re going to use a transport charm. It’d be better if you held my hand.”
“You mean I’d be more likely to get to the right location?”
“Precisely.”
I stepped forward and gripped his large hand, shivering as heat raced up my arm. His hand swallowed mine, and I tried not to enjoy the sensation. “How does it work?”
“It creates a temporary portal through the ether that responds to my wishes. The ether will transport us wherever I request.”
“Oh, boy. That sounds….”
“Frightening?”
“Crazy.” I looked down at my enchanted dress, which was something out of my wildest fantasies. “But crazy doesn’t mean impossible, so let’s go.”
“Hold on tight.”
His words rushed through me, and now that I had got hold of him, it amazed me how natural this felt.
6
Carrow
The Devil reached into his pocket and withdrew a small gray stone. He threw it to the ground right in front of us, and a cloud of silver smoke poofed up, glittering and bright.
“Come on.” He tugged at my hand, and I followed him into the smoke.
An unseen force sucked us in and spun us through space. My stomach pitched like I was on a roller coaster, but a moment later, my feet hit solid ground.
Startled, I stumbled slightly. The Devil caught my arm, steadying me against him. Our bodies touched, and desire raced through me.
We hadn’t been this close since he’d bitten me. My gaze flashed to his, and I found him looking down at me. The heat in his eyes made me flush, and I pulled away, heart racing.
“You’ll get used to ether transport.” His voice was slightly hoarse, and I wondered if he was as affected as I was.
I thought so, but I shook the notion away and turned to inspect our surroundings. We stood on a street wide enough to allow cars by day but filled with people at night. Lovely historic buildings rose four stories high on either side of the street, their bottoms filled with shops and bars. Their smooth plaster fronts were painted different colors, and the roofs were made of lovely terracotta tiles. Many of the windows in the buildings were dark.
It was a lovely little city, but not what I’d have expected. I’d envisioned a bar somewhere in Paris or Tokyo or Bucharest.
“Is this the capital?” I asked. It seemed smaller than I’d have thought.
“No. It’s Brașov, a city in Transylvania.”
“Your home region?”
He ignored the question, but I was determined to figure out if he was Vlad the Impaler. He’d dodged the question every time before, and he was still doing it.
“Supernaturals prefer this region. It is full of magic and power. They’ve been here for hundreds of years. Come.” He gestured for me to follow, and I joined him, walking quickly toward an unassuming alley.
He entered the dark, narrow space. My heels clicked on the cobblestones, and I avoided cigarette butts as we passed beneath dim lamps to a little courtyard hidden between two of the buildings.
“You’re sure this is the right way?” I passed two men who stood against the wall, smoking.
“I am.” He turned and passed through an arch, climbing a set of stairs. I followed, joining him on the next floor. A plain brown door waited, and he knocked in a peculiar rhythm.
A moment later, it swung open, revealing a stone-faced man in a black tux. Behind him, I caught flashes of the most fabulous bar I’d ever seen.
Wow.
We were here.
The man nodded to the Devil, his gaze flickering with knowledge, and then he stepped back to admit us.
We entered silently, the Devil not acknowledging the doorman. I followed his lead and quickly took in our surroundings.
It was a gorgeous place, large and high ceilinged, with dim lighting provided by glittering chandeliers. Ebony tables gleamed beneath them, and the red velvet chairs looked like something out of an old movie from the thirties or forties. There were nooks and booths scattered along the sides, providing perfect secret places to do dangerous business.
The bar stretched along the back, a gleaming silver affair staffed by a pair of twins—two dark-haired women identical in every way.
I started to walk toward them, determined to get to the bottom of things, but the Devil’s hand gripped my arm gently. “Whoa, there.”
I looked back at him, startled.
“Subtle, remember?” he said.
“Right.” We clearly did business in different ways. He was all about sticking to the shadows and slipping information out of people. I was more of a charge-up-and-get-it-done kind of person.
Except it hadn’t worked well for me back in the real world. I’d ended up expelled from Police College and arrested for murder.
So….
Yeah, I could try things his way.
“Come, we’ll get a table.” He tucked my hand into the crook of his arm like we were on a date, and I followed. He leaned down and murmured, “Just play along.”
I shivered at the warmth of his breath against my skin and nodded.
People stared at us as we navigated the room. Everyone.
Did I really look that fabulous?
No.
I looked damned good, no doubt about it. But there were half a dozen women here who looked like supermodels.
People were staring at the Devil with the kind of avid interest usually reserved for celebrities and top-profile criminals.
In the magical world, it seemed he was both. Particularly here in Transylvania. There was a lot to this man that I didn’t know, and with every second that passed, I was sure he knew more about the dead guy than he let on.
I scanned the room, catching sight of several bulky men. Guards, I assumed. Each sported a perfect, identical suit over a muscular body. Their eyes were cold and determined.
The Devil was right about blending in before we pounced for info. We needed to lull them into thinking we were just on a date.
He took us to the best table in the place, one set away from the crowd in its own alcove. The walls were made of windows that allowed a fabulous view of the Eiffel tower.
“I thought we were in Brașov?” I asked.
“We are. It’s an illusion.”
“Wow. That’s phenomenal.” I felt like I could break through the glass and be in Paris.
“It changes daily, but I think the owner is partial to Paris.”
“You come here often?” Yes. An opportunity to dig.
“Not anymore.”
“Oh?” I tried to sound disinterested as I sat in the tiny but comfortable chair. “Why not?”
“That’s as much as you’re getting.”