Suzanne McLeod - The Bitter Seed of Magic

‘No,’ I said, pushing the door closed, ‘Bernie Mittle made them.’

‘Bernie does great work, but you might want to try old Gillie next time. She’s just as good, but she’s cheaper.’

‘You should listen to him, Genny.’ Sylvia gave a rustling laugh. ‘London’s expert on Which Witch for Which Spell, he is.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, then remembered about my cracked Ward and the rug-wrapped fanged occupant of my bedroom. ‘So who’s the best for good, cheap Wards?’

‘Fiddlesticks,’ Sylvia said, unpacking what looked like enough food to feed a whole forest of dryads, never mind the three of us. ‘I forgot about that. I meant to get you one when I was out. You could always use a blood-Ward for today and I’ll pick one up later. Ricky will tell you how, won’t you, babe?’

‘Sure thing, Blossom.’ He steepled his claws together and tapped his lipless mouth. ‘Blood-Wards are a tad primitive, but easy-peasy enough. Just draw a line in blood across all entrances and add your will to it. It’ll stop anyone crossing. ’Course, the real disadvantage is you have to give them a top-up before they run out, which could be anywhere from a few hours to a couple of days, so you can’t just go off and forget about them. Then there’s the physical side—there’s only so much blood and magic a body can offer up before it starts to run on empty.’ He did a wide grin-yawn of a smile. ‘But they’re handy for a quick, free fix.’

It did sound easy. ‘Okay, a couple of questions: do I have to stay inside the blood-Ward for it to work, and what about anyone else inside it; can they leave if they want to?’

‘Hmm.’ His headcrest quivered. ‘You can set the blood-Ward up so you can walk through it without breaking it, but it’s a bit more complicated the other way. ’Course, if you do set it up so’s they can walk out, then it’ll break when they cross it.’

‘That’s great, thanks,’ I said. It would work. I could leave, Malik would be protected, and when he woke up at sunset, or whenever, he could walk out … or I could trap him— which had its own possibilities.

‘Told you he was the best, didn’t I?’ Sylvia beamed proudly.

I got the subtext as I looked from one to the other: Sylvia pretending to be Carefree Caterer and Ricou doing his impression of Professor of Spells. To be honest, it was hard to miss: they had a thing going on, and Sylvia had very definitely been warning me off. Which made me wonder what the hell the pair of them were doing here supposedly courting me?

‘Look,’ I said, ‘nice as this little breakfast club is, I’ve got places to go, people to meet’— and no way do I want to play gooseberry— ‘so you’ll both have to amuse yourselves without me today.’

‘Gosh, don’t worry about us, Genny. We’re both happy to do whatever.’

‘Yeah, luv.’ Ricou thumped his clawed fist proudly on his chest. ‘Ricou here will be honoured to escort you two ladies on the town.’

‘Now then, breakfast is served,’ Sylvia said brightly. ‘We’ve got some more blood’—she tapped a couple of the large cups—‘and pancakes with extra maple syrup—they’re mine, but I’m happy to share; a couple of bacon butties, because the waitress said they were your favourite, and some sashimi tuna and whole sardines for the waterbaby there.’ She waved at the half-dozen other cups and containers. ‘We also have coffee, tea, orange juice, custard doughnuts and a selection of vegetable crudities.’

I eyed the carrot and celery sticks sitting neatly alongside the broccoli and cauliflower florets, all complete with a sprinkling of sesame seed . Eew! That was the sort of rabbit food only Finn ate. And thinking of him … why hadn’t he returned my text? I left the raw stuff and picked up one of the bacon butties.

‘You can drop the act,’ I said, waving it to indicate the two of them, ‘and you can tell me what you’re doing courting me.’ I took a bite.

Ricou’s membranes flickered over his eyes nervously. Sylvia’s dress quivered, and a lone white petal fell to land next to her silver-sandalled feet.

‘Well,’ I said, after I’d swallowed, ‘who wants to go first?’

‘Ricou here won you in a poker game.’ He flexed his head-crest to free it from the beads, making them jangle. ‘Told you that, the last time we met, luv.’ He wandered over to the kitchen, snagged a sardine and threw it in the air, snapping his jaws with a loud smacking noise as he caught it.

‘He means he fixed it so he won.’ Sylvia dribbled the sickly syrup in a criss-cross pattern over her pancakes.

‘She’s a harsh one,’ Ricou said to his next sardine. ‘At least Ricou’s name was on the list.’

I choked on a mouthful of bacon butty. There was a list?

Sylvia absently thumped me on the back. ‘Gosh, but then Ricou here didn’t remove his name, did he?’

‘Ricou was told not to by the Lady Meriel, wasn’t he?’ He snapped at another sardine.

‘Fiddlesticks.’ She crushed her empty syrup packet and tossed it into the large takeaway bag. ‘Ricou’s a hundred and sixty-three, not three. He should be able to stand up for himself by now.’

What list?’ I gasped out in between coughs.

‘Ricou doesn’t see you standing up for yourself much, Blossom. You’re here, aren’t you? So it looks like Lady Isabella still has you tied to her stake.’

‘She does not!’ She jabbed her plastic fork at him. ‘I haven’t been staked since I was fifty!’

‘What list?’ I yelled.

Sylvia turned to me in surprise. ‘The list of who’s allowed to court you, of course.’

‘Only Blossom here isn’t on it.’ Ricou’s face-fins flared. He was either sulking or annoyed, or maybe both. ‘So she shouldn’t be here.’

‘ She is here because Genny didn’t want anything to do with Algernon’s Twig Gang,’ Sylvia’s dress lost a whole shower of petals. ‘And I don’t blame her, not after they did their usual. Nasty bunch of sticks they are.’

Their usual?

Ricou dropped his fish and flung a scaly arm round Sylvia’s shoulders. He tapped her cycle helmet gently with his webby-clawed hand. ‘Aww, Blossom, don’t start shedding. I told them I’d strip their water if they tried their grab and grind tricks on you again and I meant it.’

Grab and grind? They ’ d tried to rape me to get me pregnant; I ’ d thought they ’ d done it because of the fertility curse. Now it sounded like it was more a nasty habitual perversion.

‘My hero.’ Sylvia sniffed and patted his chest. Then she poked him hard. ‘But if you want to stay that way, then you’ll have to tell your mother to take you off the list, right?’

‘Nobody’s mother is taking anyone off the list,’ I dumped my bacon butty on the counter, too angry to eat, ‘because there is no list, not any more.’

‘What?’ they said in unison, turning to me.

I grabbed a napkin and wiped my hands, fixing them both with a quelling look. ‘If I decide to have a child, then it will be with willing, single partners only. I’m not getting together with someone who’s already dating. This is about cracking a curse, not breaking up people’s relationships. Whoever thought either of you’d be good candidates was wrong.’

Ricou’s headcrest zipped upright in alarm. ‘But the curse has to be broken. It’s not just the fae, there’s all the faelings too. I’ve got six halfling pups, and—’

‘You’ve got six kids?’ I interrupted, aghast.

‘Everyone on the list has children,’ Sylvia said flatly, ‘or faelings, anyway. It was one of the criteria, which was why I wasn’t on it. I’ve never sprouted any seedlings.’