Page 53 of Hexbound

"Possibly," he said, and ducked to the left, down a narrow alley where the walls brushed against his shoulders. "We're not prepared to face it right now. Not if some Grave Arts sorcerer is wielding the Chalice."

The memory of coming up against that mind in the Seven Dials stirred within him. Whoever it was, they'd blocked Bishop's thrust with ease, threatening to roll his mind over like a bug and squash it. A nervous sweat broke out along his lip. He wasn't used to meeting his match. The vulnerability unnerved him.

"There!" he said, pushing her toward an apothecary. Slamming both hands into the double doors, he strode inside.

Three men turned, icy-blue mage globes springing into form just above their hands.

"Stand down," he told them, flashing his Order rings.

One of them paled.

"I just want passage out of the Labyrinth," he added, ushering Verity inside at his heels.

The leader vanished his mage globes, and the other followed him, thank goodness. "How much is it worth to you?" the man asked, his eyes glinting with sudden avarice.

"The question is: how much is it worth toyou?" Bishop replied coolly, staring the bearded man down.

He could have heard a pin drop in the sudden silence.

"Creedy," one of the fellows muttered, the white of his eyes showing as he tried to peer past Bishop. "Probably ain't the time for it. He's Order, man."

Creedy scratched at his beard, then sighed. "What's out there?"

"Flesh constructs. The streets are crawling with them."

That earned another breath-catching silence.

"Jesus," a smaller lad blurted. "What are we going to do?"

"Let me and my companion out, and they'll most likely go away," Bishop replied, moving fast toward the back of the shop. "It's this way?"

"Where are we going?" Verity muttered, following on his heels.

"Aye." Creedy scrambled after them. "How'd you know I got passage out?"

Because it's how I get into the Labyrinth when I don't want to be seen.

Bishop merely shot him a bland look. "The Order knows everything." And then he jerked the wardrobe in the back room open and gestured Verity inside. "After you."

Her nose wrinkled. "It stinks of mothballs."

"Trust me," he said, stepping inside after her. "It could be worse."

Much worse.

The pressof her body was distracting.

Bishop hunched inside the wardrobe, waiting for Creedy to fire the runes that linked the wardrobe with a locker in Marylebone Station. The other half of the wardrobe was filled with boxes, and he was forced to rest his elbows on the timbers on either side of her head, even as he tried not to sink into the warmth of her embrace.

Soft breasts pressed against his chest. His vision was slowly becoming accustomed to the dark, and he could almost see the tip of her nose thanks to the light gleaming through the cracks in the door. It was a pert little nose, much like her.

And right below it was her mouth.

Bishop swallowed. He could hear her heartbeat, whispering in conjunction with the call of his power. He was always acutely aware of others and their bodies, but this was the first time that he'd felt the stir of his own in response.

Her breath whispered against his mouth. "What are we waiting for?"

A shiver of power stirred over his skin, as Creedy chanted outside. "That," Bishop said softly, as golden lines streamed suddenly all over the interior of the wardrobe.