Suzanne McLeod - The Bitter Seed of Magic

I carried on, ‘Once the killer and Victoria Harrier find out they have a substitute, what do you think they’re going to do? They’re going to dump my doppelgänger and come after who they really want: me. London’s only sidhe. It’s only common sense to stop them before they decide to do that.’

‘This is a matter better left to the police, Genevieve. I will not agree to your participation.’

I laughed: it wasn’t happy. ‘You still don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about you agreeing or not agreeing. You were just my first choice. You’re not the only vamp in town, and if you’re not prepared to go with me, then I know a vamp that will.’

‘Darius is too young and too weak to aid you, Genevieve,’ he said dismissively.

‘I’m not talking about Darius, my liege .’ I stuck my hands on my hips and gave him a ‘so-there’ look. Childish, I know, but hey— ‘I’m talking about Francine. All I have to do is ask for her help in your name and she’ll give it me. And she’s a kick-ass lady who does a mean line in illusions. Not to mention she hates Maxim, so she’ll be thrilled to coax him into telling the police and me whatever we want to know. Then let’s not forget Cousin Fyodor, and whatever stories he’s got to tell.’ I mimed pulling out a stake. ‘He’s old enough that it won’t take long to get him back into talking order again. Oh, and don’t think your little order about staying out of Sucker Town will make any difference; the police can take me there by force if need be.’

‘No.’

I shot him an impatient glare. ‘What does “No” mean?’

He brushed a hand over his shorn head. ‘No, you do not need to ask Francine for her help,’ he said, conceding with obvious reluctance. ‘I will accompany you, and I will do all in my power to assist you. On two conditions.’

‘Which are?’

‘One: your safety is my prime concern,’ he said firmly. ‘And two: if you are putting yourself in danger, then you should be better prepared physically. You will allow me to heal your injuries first.’

Take his blood? My pulse quickened in anticipation. I wanted to say it wasn’t a good idea, except it was, and we both knew it.

‘Agreed,’ I said, adding, ‘Just being practical,’ at his surprised look. Reaching down to the threshold, I wiped away some of the dried blood and broke the Ward, then opened the door. I nodded at the two trolls standing to attention. ‘We’re going with Plan A,’ I said.

‘Right-o, Genny,’ Constable Lamber said.

‘Plan A, Genevieve?’ Malik raised an elegant, enquiring brow. ‘You are aware that I had ordered you not to leave, and therefore these two gentlemen would not have been able to pass your blood-Ward to retrieve you until it dissipated?’

‘Not true, sir.’ Taegrin held out his hand to me.

‘Plan B,’ I said, taking the red jellybean from his palm, and the green one that Lamber gave me and showed them to Malik. ‘Ward-Key spells.’ I’d had a lo-oong chat with Ricou about blood-Wards. ‘A drop of my blood and will in the sweets means they can cross the Ward without breaking it, in the same way I can.’ I tossed the sweeties in my mouth and ate them and their magic with a smug smile. ‘Therefore rendering them able to retrieve me while still leaving you trapped.’

‘Bravo, Genevieve.’ He inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘Speaking of practicalities, how do you intend to take us inside the Tower?’

I pursed my lips. ‘Actually, that’s the difficult bit of the plan. I know someone who can help, but I’m not sure if they will.’ Or what it was going to cost me. I gave Malik a sideways look. ‘We’ll leave off the healing bit until after they’ve agreed.’

I hunkered down in my seat and contemplated the vampire daylight travelling kit, a.k.a the zipped body bag provided by the police. It was made from leather, not the more usual thick plastic. Apparently leather stops vamps from being more than just victims of fashion. The bag—or rather, Malik—was stretched out on the floor between the two rows of seats in the back of the police van.

Malik and the two constables had treated the whole ‘getting into the bag and being carried out to the van’ project like it was something they did half a dozen times a day. The tourists in Covent Garden hadn’t been so laid-back. The mobile phone/camera brigade had been out in force. I’d cringed and hurried, head down, into the van; I just knew I was going to end up with the media hounding me again after all this. Still, better that than dead. And at least I hadn’t blown up any bridges this time. Not yet anyway.

A half-heard voice made me look up.

The headlights of the passing traffic glinted on the specks of gold in Constable Taegrin’s polished black skin. He was sitting with his feet propped up on the opposite seat, as I was, to leave room for the bag. Had he said something? But he caught me looking and just winked. I smiled back, thinking I must’ve imagined it. And that my life would be so much easier if I could just unzip Malik and force him to tell me whatever it was he and Tavish had going on, and what it was the pair of them were hiding. Yep, like that was ever going to happen. But the main thing was, I’d got Malik to agree to what we wanted, which was a big relief. I closed my eyes, hoping Hugh and his crew had been just as successful with the rest of our master plan preparations—

‘—understand you have a son, Maxim.’ Malik’s distant not-quite-English voice popped into my head.

There was a short silence, then Maxim’s voice muttered, ‘Bleeding sidhe. Knew nothing good would come of her slurping up my blood.’

I briefly wondered how I was picking up their conversation— Mad Max’s blood maybe? —and how they were managing to have it; then scrunched my eyes tight shut and concentrated on listening.

‘Where is the boy, Maxim?’

Hmm, why isn’t he asking who he is? Does that mean he knows, or that he doesn’t think it’s important?

‘Haven’t a clue, old chap,’ came the breezy answer.

‘This is not the time for your games.’ Malik’s tone was impatient. ‘If it is he who is behind these disappearances, then he needs to be stopped, and if it is not him, then he could be in danger.’

‘All that ruckus with the faelings is the fae’s problem, especially now you’ve stopped us sticking our fangs in,’ Maxim said bitterly. ‘And my son’s safe enough without your help. So bleeding safe I haven’t seen him for twenty years. That bitch won’t let me.’

‘Ah.’ Malik’s voice was soft. ‘So you do have another child.’

Mad Max has two kids? There was another, longer silence. I waited with Malik for Mad Max to answer.

Finally Malik gave up and said, ‘The witch has left a note, Maxim, saying she cannot protect your dog’s offspring any longer. If she is not protecting your son, then you must have other offspring. The witch has now vanished.’

‘I saw the new hairdo, old chap,’ Maxim said cheerfully and seemingly at random, ‘so I take it His Brattiness has been enjoying himself at your painful expense again. Still on the old eviscerating kick, is he? Or is it the old starvation diet? Must be hard when you can’t snack on any passing pigeon and have to rely on His Princely Benevolence. Bet his little royal heart jumped for joy when you made yourself Oligarch and dropped yourself back in his bloody little hands again.’

Terror rolled through me at the mention of the Autarch, and the thought of Malik being in his clutches. I clutched Grace’s pentacle at my throat, and swallowed the fear back. Was that why Malik was so hungry—he could only feed off other vamps and the Autarch wasn’t letting him? I shuddered and tuned back in.