Suzanne McLeod - The Sweet Scent of Blood

I frowned at the inspector. ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘Just answer the question, Genny,’ Hugh rumbled. I looked over at him. He had folded himself down to sit Indian-style on my rug—I appreciated his attempt to look less imposing—but when you’re a seven-foot-tall troll, not even sitting can manage that. His notepad was carefully balanced on his knee and he gripped one of his over-large pens between his fingers.

If I was going to have this many visitors maybe I ought to think about getting some furniture—nah, it probably wasn’t worth it. I didn’t want to send out the wrong impression. I was getting enough unwanted guests as it was.

A smothered cough drew my attention to the other uninvited occupant of my lounge: the ever-charming Constable Curly-hair stood to attention by my front door, her eyes flicking between me and Hugh, a happy little smirk wreathing her plump face. She looked to be the only person here enjoying herself.

‘Ms Taylor?’ The inspector clasped her hands and her rings chinked as if advertising her impatience.

Shrugging, I stuck my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. ‘At half-past-eleven I was in a black hackney cab. I’ve no idea what his licence number was, but his CCTV was running, I remember seeing the red light blinking.’ I rocked back on my heels. ‘’Course, if I’d known you were interested, I’d have made a note of it.’

Hugh rumbled a warning at my tone, and wrote something down.

‘Where were you going?’

I sighed. She had to know the answer to that one. ‘I had an appointment with my client, Alan Hinkley. He’d arranged for me to see Melissa Bank’s body, with you.’

Her lips thinned. ‘Only you never arrived at the police station. Why was that, Ms Taylor?’

Let me think. Oh yeah, I ran into a bit of trouble.

A trickle of sweat ran down my back, but I kept my voice level. ‘Hinkley didn’t turn up for our meeting.’

‘Did you not think that strange? Or maybe consider telephoning him to find out why?’

‘I would have, but I’d left my phone somewhere, and I didn’t know his number.’ And don’t worry , I added silently, he’s on my to-do list—he and whoever it was sent the revenants in his place. ‘I’d been planning to contact him today.’

‘That won’t be possible,’ she said. ‘Alan Hinkley was attacked last night.’

Shock jolted through me and I crossed my arms over the sudden cold feeling in my stomach. ‘Is he all right? What happened? ’

‘Mr Hinkley is in a coma.’ She twisted the large diamond ring on her finger. ‘His solicitor and a goblin guard were attacked at the same time. The solicitor is in intensive care and the goblin is dead.’

So that’s where the revenants had got the bat. Alan must have been first on their list. Someone was obviously serious about stopping me from seeing Melissa’s body, but if it was Declan—who still looked like the only candidate—Alan being attacked made even less sense.

‘Genny,’ Hugh broke into my thoughts, ‘we need to know the details of the taxi journey to confirm your statement.’

I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘You mean so you can rule me out as a suspect.’

‘That’s not what I said, Genny.’ Hugh’s brow ridges lowered over his eyes. ‘But it would be better if the facts were verified.’

‘Fine,’ I huffed. ‘I picked up the taxi from the rank at Leicester Square.’ I watched Hugh as I spoke. He didn’t even flinch, so they already knew I’d been to the Blue Heart. ‘The taxi dropped me off under the Hungerford Bridge, on the Victoria Embankment side, at five minutes to midnight. The journey took around thirty minutes, because of the traffic.’

‘Then what did you do?’ The inspector’s tone was brisk.

‘I waited for Alan Hinkley.’

‘And then what?

I shrugged. ‘He didn’t turn up, so I came home.’

‘What time was that?’

‘I’m not sure. I didn’t check my watch.’

‘You must have some idea of the time, Ms Taylor.’

I frowned. Maybe she was here about the revenants after all. Except, what with the fighting and the whole passing out thing, and then Malik, I really hadn’t a clue what time I’d got home.

‘Perhaps if I can butt in—?’ Finn’s voice sounded lower than normal.

I shot a glance at him and my pulse quickened. He leant forward, his arms braced on the counter on either side of him, the angles of his face seemed sharper, the moss-green of his eyes more arrogant, his horns taller. He was still Finn. Still gorgeous. Only now he had a harsh wild beauty that made him seem remote, less human than before. My breath caught in my throat as desire echoed faintly through me.

A small clinking noise dragged my attention away from him to the inspector. She was staring at him, her hand clutching the sapphire pendant at her neck.

Constable Curly-hair wasn’t so circumspect. She looked as interested as a hungry vampire scenting blood.

Then it clicked. I looked. There was nothing to see, but whatever Finn was doing, it was deliberate, and I realised I’d felt it before—it was his own magic. Even if the inspector didn’t catch on, it was so not a good idea with Hugh around. And judging by the red dust that was settling on Hugh’s white shirt, he knew exactly what Finn was up to, although, oddly, he just continued to stare at his notepad.

‘I came round to see Gen here last night.’ Finn’s voice tugged at something deep inside me. ‘I was late and she’d already gone. I tried to catch up with her at Leicester Square, but missed her again, but I saw her get into the taxi. I knew she was meeting Hinkley at midnight, so I headed for the Embankment. After Hinkley didn’t turn up, I made sure she got home’—a smile flitted across his face—‘and I left not long after.’

Neat, very neat. It tied everything up, without actually lying. And it all tallied with what he’d told me earlier. Only going by the expression on Detective Inspector Crane’s face, she wasn’t buying it.

Still gripping her pendant, she walked towards him, then stopped abruptly and turned sharply to the constable. ‘That will be all, Constable Sims,’ she said. ‘Please wait outside.’

‘But ma’am—’ Constable Curly-hair’s face fell. ‘Don’t you need me here in case you have to search the suspect?’

‘What suspect?’

‘Her.’ As she pointed at me I caught a flash of pink at her wrist. I frowned and looked . The pink flashed brighter. I was right; she was wearing the rose quartz bracelet again. Had she realised not all the spells were working? Not that it mattered; she’d broken the bargain. Briefly I wondered what price the magic would extract. Then I put it out my mind.

‘Ms Taylor is not a suspect.’ Inspector Crane’s teeth snapped together. ‘She is not a suspect in anything. Do you understand me?’

I looked , and saw the inspector’s spells glowing brighter than a supernova.

‘Yes ma’am,’ the constable said, not bothering to hide her disappointment, and she left, leaving the door ajar.

‘Wait outside the building , Constable,’ Inspector Crane called after her.

No chance of her eavesdropping then. That didn’t sound good.

‘And you as well, please, Sergeant Munro.’

Hugh laid his pad and pen down in front of him. ‘No, I don’t think so, ma’am,’ he said calmly.

‘That was an order, sergeant.’

‘If this is no longer police business, then you cannot tell me to leave.’ Hugh’s words sounded like loose chippings clattering over slate. ‘As a friend to both Genny and Finn, I feel that I should stay, ma’am.’

I shot Hugh a look. Nice though the support was, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to antagonise his new boss.