Suzanne McLeod - The Cold Kiss of Death

‘What about Finn?’ Grace said, then as I started to speak she added, ‘And you know I’m not talking about your job, Genny.’

‘Finn’s not interested in anything else,’ I said quietly.

‘Rubbish! Of course he is—why else would he keep quiet about your father and go up against the Witches’ Council if he wasn’t interested? He’s being careful and considerate, Genny,’ she said earnestly, reaching out to grasp my hands. ‘You told him this big, big secret, something that both you and he know could cause a major upset in your life. Maybe he thinks if he asked you out now, you’d think you had to say yes, just to keep him sweet.’

Hope flickered inside me. Was she right? Had Finn decided not to ask me out any more because he thought I’d only be saying yes for the wrong reasons? And not because one half of my parentage repulsed or terrified him? It sort of fit with his usual white knight persona.

‘Of course,’ Grace carried on, ‘with him backing off like he has after hearing your secret, it means you’ve lost your trust in him too. Which is probably why you blew up at him earlier.’ She squeezed my hands. ‘You like him, Genny, a lot. You should talk to him and sort it all out.’

She was right on both counts. I did like him, a lot ... and I didn’t trust him. How could I when I wasn’t sure what he wanted? But maybe if I talked to him?

Then she lifted my left hand up between us in accusation; half-faded bruises encircled my wrist. ‘You’ve had these for over a month, Genny, and with your sidhe metabolism, you should’ve healed them in a couple of hours. I know its some sort of property mark. ’ Her face screwed up in revulsion. ‘How can you think of having anything to do with that vamp after he did this to you?’

Because I’ve finally accepted, regardless of what I want, or you want, I don’t have much choice. I need him, or some vamp anyway, and—not even trying to fool myself here—some part of me wants him . More importantly, once given, I know his word is his bond.

Only I didn’t say it out loud; it wasn’t what Grace wanted to hear. But if she didn’t understand about Malik, she was right about talking to Finn. Oh, I wasn’t holding out as much hope on the relationship side as she was—not when I was about to do a deal with a vampire—but maybe he could help with the rest of my non-vamp problems ...

‘You’re right.’ I smiled ruefully. ‘I’ll have a chat with Finn, okay? Later on today at work.’

‘Good, now we’re getting somewhere!’ She wrapped her arms round me in a hug.

‘Don’t get too excited,’ I said, hugging her back and breathing in her familiar floral perfume with its faint antiseptic tang. ‘I’m not ruling the vamp option out yet. And talking about going somewhere—’ I glanced up at the clock. Dawn was still a couple of hours away, but I was itching for my next G-Zav dose, and with the amount of amphetamine the pills contained, I wasn’t going to be sleeping any time soon. ‘I’m going for a run.’

‘Run! It’s wet and cold and dark and—’ She gave a very un-doctor-like squeal of horror, but then, Grace is more a fair-weather type of girl, and she wouldn’t be seen dead in running shorts. ‘Well, if you’re not using it, I’m going to bed. I got enough exercise to last me a week after walking up those five flights of stairs.’

‘Exercise is good for you, Grace.’ Grinning, I bounced on the balls of my feet. ‘Isn’t that what you doctors are always saying?’

She sniffed in disdain. ‘Bring doughnuts back, that’s all this doctor is saying.’

It was snowing inside Tomas’ Bakery, a blizzard of dust-fine flour that whirled and eddied like a maelstrom, making the interior a complete white-out. I stood outside, pushed my hands through my hair and groaned. Tomas’ ex-girlfriend had sicced another of her malicious spells on him again. Now I was having visions of Tomas and whoever else might be inside slowly suffocating from a lungful of ground-up wheat. But even his ex couldn’t be that stupid, could she? Still, she’d gone too far this time. Tomas was going to have to stop being so nice and forgiving and report this to the police; if he didn’t, then I would. It wasn’t as if he’d done anything to deserve her vindictiveness either; he’d only gone out with the witch a couple of times, not jilted her at the altar. But Tomas was six foot of blond Nordic muscle-bound weightlifter, and a lot of the market witches had their eye on him. And trust me, bunny-boilers have nothing on witches when it comes to acting out their jealous fantasies.

Damn. Just what I didn’t need after the night I’d had.

Not that the night was officially over yet; there was still nearly an hour before sunrise. But an hour’s hard running had worked off the amphetamine so I’d come for Grace’s doughnuts. The bakery is down a side street crammed in between a secondhand book shop and a fancy florist’s, and on my usual morning run route. When I’d sprinted past it earlier nothing out of the ordinary had snagged my attention, but now I realised what had been missing. There was no smell of baking bread. I should’ve noticed that; Tomas had asked me to sort out so many of his ex’s nasty little spells over the last couple of weeks that I’d made a permanent date to pop in at the end of my run whether I wanted doughnuts or not. But the conversation with Grace, my other problems and what I was going to say to Finn when I saw him had been on constant replay in my mind as I’d been pounding the pavements ... I blew out an annoyed breath at myself for missing something so obvious, and focused on the bakery.

The dizzying flour-storm shone with magic, as if each individual grain had been tagged with whatever spell was causing the blizzard. I needed to find the heart of the spell to crack it but the stuff glittered so much I couldn’t see past it. I closed my eyes briefly and upped my concentration, but the centre of the spell was still too elusive; whatever magic animated the flour was hidden within it. I frowned, trying to think—

‘You’re that faerie, aren’t you?’ A lad around seventeen poked his spiky head of black hair out of the florist’s. ‘I saw you earlier when you ran past.’

I picked my way through the obstacle course of black-painted metal buckets and cardboard boxes packed with sweet-scented blooms to speak to him. ‘Do you know if anyone’s in there?’ I pointed at the open bakery door.

‘Tomas is. He waved at me when the boss dropped me off with the flowers.’ The lad’s tongue slipped out to taste the silver hoop piercing his bottom lip. ‘Oh, and there was this woman, she went in just before all the flour started flying around.’ He came out and stood next to me, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his baggy cargo pants. ‘Then I heard some shouting and yelling like they were fighting, then there was this big noise like someone falling over, then it went all quiet.’ His tone was offhand, as if the whole thing bored him, or maybe he was just trying to be cool. ‘Haven’t seen neither of them since.’

I pressed my lips together. What if Tomas’ ex really had done something stupid and he was lying in there hurt? Tomas was a friend; not only that, he was soft as faerie moss. No way would he defend himself against a woman, never mind that when magic’s involved all the muscle in the world isn’t going to help. I reached for my phone, then realised I’d left it at home. Damn gremlins and their hex.

‘Ring the police,’ I told the lad, ‘and tell them just what you’ve told me. Tell them there’s a witch involved, and to send the magic squad, you got that?’