Suzanne McLeod - The Shifting Price of Prey

Or that the Emperor’s werewolves had just dog/spell-napped Mad Max instead of me.

‘Idiot dog,’ I murmured, wondering again why the hell he’d pushed me aside.

Freya nipped my ankle and regarded me out of accusing doggy eyes.

‘Not you, pup. Granddad Max.’

She whimpered then tucked her head on to her front paws.

I frowned down at her where she dozed in the sunshine, her black nose twitching occasionally. I could understand Mad Max sacrificing himself for his grandkid. But even with me donating my blood to Freya, there was no way I could see my self-seeking, use-anybody-and-don’t-give-a-fuck-who-gets-hurts cousin deciding to save me by playing snake-catching hero.

Hugh’s huge figure cut out the sun. ‘Maxim’s actions appear to be out of character,’ he said, echoing my own thoughts.

‘Yep,’ I agreed, looking up at Hugh’s ruddy face, deeply creased with worry. Two major incidents in less than a week were taking their toll. ‘Anything more from the witnesses?’ I asked, though to be honest I didn’t expect there to be. If there had been Hugh would’ve been acting on it, not talking to me.

He shook his head as he sat, large hands cradling a mug of milky coffee. He took a sip, then looked pointedly down at the dozing Freya. I got the message: we needed her to shift to talk, but she wouldn’t, and he had an idea to persuade her. I tilted my head to show I understood, and he started the ball rolling. ‘Run through what happened one more time for me, Genny.’

I did, ending with, ‘. . . the hawk threw the Snake spell, Max intercepted it, and was zapped away instead of me.’

Hugh nodded encouragingly. ‘So you think the hawk was using the Snake spell to remove you from the scene?’

‘Well, me or Werewolf Guy,’ I agreed. ‘We weren’t that far apart.’

‘Only the Snake spell didn’t touch the werewolf male, but he still vanished. So the spell was more likely for you.’

‘Yep, that’s what I thought too.’ I grimaced and held up the plastic evidence bag with its gold coin. ‘But that still doesn’t explain this, or why Werewolf Guy threw it at the dogs.’

Hugh held his hand out and I dropped it in his palm. He opened the bag and sniffed, lifted it up to catch the sunlight, then held it like he was weighing it. ‘It’s solid gold, and going by the smell, it’s as old as it looks.’ He sealed the bag and offered it back. ‘It’s probably an extremely valuable antique.’

I took it back. The plastic was slightly gritty from his skin. ‘So why throw it at a couple of dogs, even if he knew who they were?’

‘It could be payment of some kind.’

‘Payment? To Max for me?’

‘Yes. This looks like a classic set-up to me. Max uses Freya to get you here.’ Freya’s ears pricked up at her name. ‘The werewolf male tries to snatch you, your niece warns you and the plan goes pear-shaped.’

It actually made sense, especially if you knew Mad Max. ‘Why did he snatch the Snake spell, if he was part of the plot?’

‘You were calling the spell, trying to catch it.’

‘Yeah.’

‘And if you caught it, it wouldn’t have worked, would it?’

‘No.’

‘So we’d have the spell as evidence, and would be able to trace it.’

Which was partly why I’d tried to catch it. That and not wanting to be tagged by an unknown spell, of course.

‘So,’ Hugh carried on, ‘Maxim catching the Snake spell before you could achieves two things.’ He held up two large fingers, and out the corner of my eye I saw Freya raise her head and fix Hugh with anxious eyes. ‘One: it makes sure no evidence is left, and two: Maxim is safely removed from the crime scene and not available to answer questions.’

I heaved an exaggerated sigh. ‘Sounds just like Maxim to cut and run when his plan goes wrong. Bet he turns up later with some story about how he escaped.’ Freya stood, ears back, hackles raised. I made a show of ignoring her. ‘So there’s not much point looking for him, is there?’

Freya nudged my hand with a wet nose, then barked, loud and insistent. ‘Quiet, pup,’ I said, patting her head, as if she were just the dog she was pretending to be.

Hugh nodded, adopting his blank-stone cop’s face. ‘Yes, we’ve got better things to do than look for Maxim.’

The puppy shook like she was shedding water, magic prickled over my skin, and then Freya took her human shape. Her blonde hair was gelled into spikes, the tips still dyed green like her fluff-ball fur, school tie pulled loose round her neck, and her overlarge white shirt messily tucked into her maroon skirt. A backpack appeared slung over one shoulder; she dropped it to the ground with an irritated thump.

I’d asked her once what happened to her clothes when she was a dog; she’d shrugged, saying whatever she was wearing just went away, and then came back again, and wasn’t that what happened with everyone?

I squashed a pang of envy. So what if she could change into a dog, and back again, complete with magically reappearing clothes, without breaking a sweat, despite the fact she was a faeling, not a full-blood fae, with a mix of sidhe, fae, vamp and human blood. Much like myself, who couldn’t do anything with magic other than crack it, absorb it like some freaky sponge, or use it ready-made, and who didn’t even get to keep the cool vamp powers. I wasn’t jealous of her , exactly, but maybe of her and everyone else’s abilities. And I had to wonder why she, an eight-year-old kid who was sort of my niece, ended up with magic powers and I didn’t.

Freya clenched her hands into fists. ‘Granddad Max didn’t do the things you said! You’ve got to look for him! He’s in trouble!’

‘What makes you think Granddad Max’s in trouble?’ Hugh asked, his gravelly voice matching his stony expression.

‘Because he was scared!’ So there! She didn’t say it but she didn’t have to. It was in the jut of her chin.

‘Scared of what, Freya?’

‘The werewolves, of course.’

I leaned forwards. ‘Did Granddad Max tell you they were werewolves?’

She pulled a face. ‘No. I heard you all talking. Granddad Max couldn’t tell me what they were.’

‘You mean he didn’t tell you,’ I said.

‘No, Aunty. I mean he couldn’t.’ She huffed. ‘I asked him. That’s what he told me.’

‘Freya,’ I said gently, ‘just because he told you he couldn’t, doesn’t mean he didn’t know.’

‘It does! Granddad Max doesn’t tell lies. Or not much to me anyway. I can tell.’

Nice qualification!

Hugh leaned forward with interest ‘How can you tell?’

She sniffed in an attempt to play it cool, but her blue eyes sparked with excitement now she had our full attention. ‘I can smell when he lies, like I can smell when the girls at school lie too. And when Mum does; lies smell like burned toast.’ She folded her arms, daring us to not believe her. ‘And I can smell when they’re scared.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘That smells like dead fish.’

News to me. I wondered if her senses were better because of her dog shape, her vamp genes, or both. I patted the stone rim of the fountain next to me. Freya gave me a wary look, obviously wondering if sitting would commit her to something she didn’t want, so I raised my brows. She glowered and plonked herself down.

‘Okay,’ I said, bumping her shoulder gently with mine. ‘I get that Granddad Max was scared, but if he didn’t know who was coming, how did he know to be frightened of them?’

‘He had a dream about it. It woke him up.’

Dreams. Right. ‘What sort of dream?’

She shrugged. ‘He didn’t tell me. Just said he knew they were coming for you, and he had to warn you.’