Suzanne McLeod - The Shifting Price of Prey

‘Stop looking like that,’ I said, annoyed. ‘It was only some of the half-formed in Between and I spat the pieces back out again. They’ll stick themselves back together soon enough; maybe even manage better shapes next time. Oh, and the two that didn’t fight’ – Viviane and Gold Cat – ‘are fine. Same as your soul’ – I placed a hand over my heart – ‘it was here, quiet as a mouse, until you bit me, so why not leave it—’

He shook his head, eyes blazing. ‘My soul is damaged, Genevieve. It will cause you harm. You have seen how Bastien is.’

I blinked. ‘Bastien is a crazy psycho because he had your soul?’

‘Yes.’

I frowned, recalling Malik’s harem memory and the child Bastien ripping his sister’s doll apart. He’d seemed pretty much fully-fledged as a psychopath back then. ‘Did Bastien have your soul as a child?’

Malik swiped an anxious hand over his head. ‘No, he did not. He took it some years after I was cursed with the revenant. Come, we must find him.’ He took my wrist again.

‘Wait!’ I pulled out of his hold. ‘I can’t wander around with a knife-hilt sticking out of my chest. People will freak out.’ I carefully wrapped my hand around the flashing dragon’s tear, hesitated, then, under Malik’s worried gaze, yanked it out. As far as I could tell, my own soul stayed in place, seeing as I didn’t drop down dead or float off with the breeze, as did Malik’s; its claws still had their death-grip on my heart.

I tucked Janan safely in the back of my jeans. ‘Right,’ I said, pleased my voice only shook slightly. ‘Let’s go and find Bastien, but remember, the priority here is to get the info about the fae’s trapped fertility out of him. We can worry about your soul later, okay?’

‘I do not think—’ He stopped, stared up at the heavens as if entreating some god, then just as I was about to push the point, he took a breath he didn’t need. ‘We will do that, Genevieve.’

‘Right.’ I rubbed my breastbone as the pain there vanished. Malik’s soul had sheathed its claws the second he’d agreed and was now back to being a soft ball of silvery light. Damn. It was determined to become a permanent resident. Later .

‘So,’ I said, ‘did you get enough of my blood for whatever it was you were planning to do?’ Not that I thought either of us were up to him trying to bite me again.

‘It is possible, but we shall see.’ His mouth twisted and he offered his hand, wary. I took it just as cautiously, braced for the claws. Nothing. We both sighed in relief.

He held the slashed tent open and we stepped back in together.

Waiting for us was Bastien.

Bastien flashed fangs. ‘Well, well, my loyal shadow and my lovely sidhe princess.’

Malik stepped smoothly between me and Bastien. ‘Our agreement was that you should cause Genevieve no harm, Emir.’ His voice was soft with threat. ‘You will take my soul back now; else I will consider it broken.’

‘You know I have not broken any agreements, Abd al-Malik. The sidhe took your soul of her own volition.’

‘Genevieve would not have been in a position to do so, had you not altered the plan. This is—’

Malik fell silent as Bastien held up one finger then treated me to a gleeful smile. Dread crawled down my spine as I leaned forward to look at Malik. He was frozen, his beautiful face etched with anger and determination.

Crap. Looked like Malik didn’t get enough of the power in my blood. And going by Bastien’s expression, he hadn’t had the juice to trap Malik before. Damn. I so didn’t want to find out what other little extras chomping the Emperor’s head had given the psycho.

He waggled his finger at me. ‘I find my elevation to Emperor is proving to be immensely enjoyable, my sweet bride.’ He gave the statue-like Malik a delighted poke.

‘You mean the power you stole,’ I said flatly.

‘Stealing? Ah, yes, it appears thieves abound. For instance, did you know there is another who looks exactly as you do? I believe she may have stolen your identity.’

Confusion winged through me. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

Bastien whirled away, his toga flaring about him, calling, ‘Come and I will show you.’

Heart pounding, I raced after him, barely noticing the four werewolves who had taken up sphinx-like positions around the Empress on her stone, to a spot outside in the lee of the stage.

Bastien waved a hand at the open space with its chain circles and cages. ‘Behold!’

I looked. And stared in horror, my eyes refusing to believe what they were seeing.

The place was a hive of movement. Hugh’s boys and girls in blue had corralled the vamp centurions and a crowd of folk dressed in their designer best, who had to be the auction bidders, into some of the cages. And now they were taking statements from the huddle of Others who were obviously the ‘lots’ from the cages and their ‘coin-holders’ from the chain circles. But despite all the activity under the fierce glare of the halogen spotlights, my eyes fixed on the small group gathered at the heart of it all.

I, or someone who looked enough like me, right down to my black jeans and T-shirt, that I couldn’t tell the difference, was standing talking to Hugh, Tavish and Finn. Bastien said something, but his words didn’t register past the pulse thundering in my ears. Finn had his hand protectively on the imposter’s shoulder, his horns curving up in full threat mode. Tavish had a nimbus of watery power surrounding him like an aura – a personal Ward – and, held securely in his arms, was a bundle of brown fluff that I recognised as Freya, my niece in her doggy form. The imposter had her arm round Katie, hugging her close. And loitering a few feet away from Katie, his shoulders hunched over, was Katie’s treacherous ‘boyfriend’, Marc, the big-cat-shifter.

It was his gaze, fixed unerringly on the imposter, which tipped me off.

She was Gold Cat. Somehow she’d got herself enough power to make herself solid and then Glamour herself up to look like me, then she’d pulled a fast one and taken my place. And none of my friends appeared to know the difference . . .

Gold Cat hugged the trembling girl as she sank into the sliver of ‘Genny’ inside her, searching for— ah, the trembling girl was called Katie, and was much loved. She hugged Katie closer, in spite of the acrid stink of fear, sweat, werewolf and the faint remnants of some disgusting perfume that clung to her. But beneath the stink were the cleaner scents of will and strength and courage. Katie was a good choice to breed the next generation of their pride. Gold Cat looked over at the young male, Marc , nodding her approval. He jutted his chin, angry and frightened for the girl – protective. He’d make her a good mate – and confused for himself, but not enough to tell the rest gathered around them here, on this, the Summer Solstice, that Gold Cat was not who they thought. Not their ‘Genny’.

How’s it going? The voice of the leannán sidhe came in Gold Cat’s head. You finding your paws okay?

Yes. But not every “lot” is here. There are three missing. The gnome continued with the auction in the Emperor’s absence. The part of me that is Genny is worried about the missing, as is her police friend, the mountain troll. Do you know what has become of them?

‘Hmm, let me see . . . Ah, yes, here’s one. Lot number eight, the hairless cat in the blue jumper.’

Everyone froze as a tarot card appeared in front of Gold Cat. The card showed a tall, shimmering gold female, with shapely devil’s horns and a magnificent peacock tail, standing in one of the silver and copper chain circles. As soon as the gnome released her from the circle, the female smacked him on the head with her coin, then ran over, yanked open the cage and scooped the cat up, raining kisses on his hairless head before the pair vanished with a pop.