Suzanne McLeod - The Bitter Seed of Magic

‘The sidhe is not your concern.’ Malik’s tone was back to being icy.

Great, let’s all talk about me like I’m some sort of pet.

I narrowed my gaze to peer at the vamp hanging above me. I recognised him. Blondie was the vamp Finn had once ‘staked’ with his horns, who’d later vanished. He’d kidnapped a human friend of mine to blackmail me into taking his blood-bond. I’d considered him pretty much a low-life opportunist at the time, so I hadn’t been too worried when he’d disappeared. Now I wasn’t sure quite what he was, but Malik’s spike in tension (which, oddly, I was picking up again, like I was some sort of radio receiver) suggested Blondie was definitely dangerous.

Blondie dropped down, smoothed his hair and winked at me. ‘Any chance you’d be up for sharing with an old drinking buddy?’

‘Do not even consider it, Maxim,’ Malik growled, his voice vibrating harshly next to my ear. I jumped, startled at finding him crouched next to me. ‘Give me your hand, Genevieve.’ He held out his own, and I placed mine in his, thinking he meant to help me up.

Maxim gave a barking laugh. ‘Getting territorial over the sidhe, are you? Good God, that’s not going to go down well with His Royal Highness.’

Royal Highness?

Malik’s grip tightened on my fingers. I flinched.

‘ My apologies, Genevieve. ’ Malik’s voice was calm in my head. ‘ I did not intend to hurt you. ’

‘Don’t you want to know why I’m here, old man?’ Maxim asked cheerfully.

‘No.’ Malik flicked his hand, and the other vamp shot through the bridge’s suddenly insubstantial wall. For a second I thought he was gone, but he popped right back in and hunkered down next to us.

‘Good one that, old chap—caught me unawares,’ he said, still grinning, ‘but now you’re in the vicinity, as it were, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about while our esteemed Lord and Master isn’t around. A little proposition about the sidhe here.’

‘This is not the time, Maxim,’ Malik said, glowering down at where he held my hand. Then he added in my mind, ‘ Genevieve, give me my ring, please. ’

I frowned, adding ‘Royal Highness’ and ‘Lord and Master’ together and getting Autarch . Terrified panic clutched at me and I grabbed Malik’s arm. ‘What’s this got to do with the Autarch?’ I demanded.

‘Why, the Turk here is His newest Oligarch … Or should I say “toy”?’ Maxim rubbed his hands together with glee. ‘How long’s it been now, five months? Tell me, is His Royal Brattiness still at the “eviscerating and stringing of guts” stage, or has he moved on yet?’ Maxim gave me a sly look. ‘The rest of us have been greatly enjoying the holiday.’

I shot Malik a horrified look. ‘What the hell is he talking about?’

‘ There is nothing to fear, Genevieve. ’ Malik’s voice came with a heavy push of mesma that should have filled me with reassurance. It didn’t. ‘ You will be safe. But now you must go. ’ He pulled his ring from my finger—

—my eyes snapped open. I stared up at the white ceiling of the silver-lined police cell, my stomach churning with barely suppressed fear, for me, and for Malik.

Blondie— Maxim —had said Malik was the Autarch’s new torture toy, and while Malik had looked okay, it had been a dream, and dreams and looks could both be deceiving.

Damn. I’d known Malik was London’s new Oligarch, and as Oligarch he would have been forced to swear an Oath of Fealty to the Autarch. I hadn’t thought through what that meant until now, no doubt thanks to Malik’s mind-mojo, but I was pretty sure I was the reason Malik had taken on the job. After the events last Hallowe’en I’d asked him to extend his protection to all of London’s fae and faelings until Clíona’s time limit was up, and he’d said yes. But that protection was worthless if all the Autarch had to do was snap his psychotic little fingers and say jump, and Malik would have to say how high.

It seemed to me to be an utterly stupid move on Malik’s part.

But stupid was one thing he wasn’t.

So what the hell was the beautiful, Machiavellian vamp playing at?

I sat up, my white-paper jumpsuit rustling, and checked out my left wrist. The spell bracelet was still there, half-submerged back into my body. After another few hours it would be totally absorbed. But Malik’s ring-charm was gone.

Looked like I’d have to find out the non-magical way, and actually ask him in person. As soon as I got out of gaol.

‘Here you go, Genny,’ Hugh said, his ruddy face lined with concern, as he offered me the envelope containing my belongings. We were alone in the small cupboard-like custody room. It was a part of Old Scotland Yard I’d never seen before, or ever wanted to again.

‘Thanks,’ I said, taking the envelope and upending its contents carefully on the counter between us. My phone, Spell-crackers ID, wallet, watch and Grace’s gold pentacle all slid out. I picked the pentacle up—a restless, fretful feeling that I hadn’t been aware of suddenly calmed: I’d missed it—and fastened it round my neck. Oddly enough, I’d been wearing it in Malik’s dreamscape, even though I hadn’t been in the cell. I shrugged, but then dreams were like that. I tucked my ID and wallet into my jacket’s inner pocket, and stuffed my phone into my clean jeans. My bloodstained clothes from yesterday were being kept as evidence.

‘And thanks for getting me the clothes too,’ I smiled up at Hugh as I snagged my watch. What I needed now was a long, lo-oong shower, something I’d been fantasising about sitting in that itching, burning cell. I checked the time: it was gone two in the afternoon—

‘ She ’ s had me locked up for nearly thirty hours!’ I snapped the watch on in frustrated annoyance. ‘And that’s after I admitted guilt, agreed to pay double what the spell’s worth, not to mention the extortionate fine. Dammit, Hugh, if it wasn’t for my solicitor’s connections’— thank you, Malik, for choosing a top-notch firm (although I hadn’t expected anything less)—‘she would’ve left me to rot.’

Hugh pushed a receipt form and one of his over-large troll pens towards me. ‘I don’t know why the inspector’s behaving like this, Genny,’ he rumbled worriedly. ‘There are rumours the top brass are making noises, and I’d hate to see her career ruined.’

‘I wouldn’t,’ I huffed, signing for my things. ‘And if the top brass have any sense, they’ll get rid of her and give you a shot at the job.’

‘No, she’s a good DI. And she’s worked hard; she’s had to because she’s a witch. Having her in the job helps all of us non-humans.’ He filed the form somewhere under the counter, then his expression shifted into his ‘what I’m going to say is important’ look. Inwardly, I sighed, guessing what was coming next.

‘I know how you feel about her, Genny’—conciliatory dust puffed from his head ridge, the pink motes glinting in the harsh fluorescent lighting—‘and she’s in the wrong, but something needs to be done, and not just for her sake, but for all of us. I’ve tried talking to her, but she won’t listen. Maybe if it came from someone outside the force, someone close to her like Finn, it would hit home more. Will you talk to him, see if there’s something he can do?’

I’d rather clean out a swamp-dragon’s lair, but this was Hugh. I sighed. ‘Okay. But I doubt it’ll help. Finn’s part of the whole problem; we both know that.’

‘Thanks, Genny.’ He rounded the counter, then carefully punched the security code into the exit door and held it open. ‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I can about the faeling’s death,’ he added in a barely heard murmur.