Scorched Heart (The Firebrand Series Book 4)

by Helen Harper

  Lukas growled, ‘Let’s just get on with it, shall we?’

  Finch blanched. ‘This way,’ he said. ‘I’ll get things set up. Do you have any words you want to say before the cremation? A prayer, perhaps?’

  ‘No,’ Lukas and I answered in unison.

  Finch glanced from me to Lukas and back again. ‘Very well,’ he said stiffly.

  Our motley trio of vampire Lord, phoenix detective and corpse on wheels trailed after Finch deeper inside the crematorium. I glanced towards the door. Boateng was supposed to be sending someone to witness the cremation. As yet, we were the only ones in the building.

  ‘I should call Boateng,’ I muttered to Lukas.

  Finch turned his head. ‘Once you’re beyond the lobby, your phone won’t work. We block incoming signals – we’ve found it’s the best way to avoid funeral services from being interrupted by inappropriate ringtones.’

  ‘We should go ahead without the witness,’ Lukas said.

  ‘We’re burning the body of a murderer who was killed by a police officer less than twenty-four hours ago. We need an official witness in case questions are asked later.’

  Lukas rolled his eyes. ‘Human bureaucracy is idiotic.’

  ‘It’s there for a reason.’ I slid out my phone. ‘I’ll nip outside and see what Boateng has to say. You need to stay here.’ I gestured towards Lazarus’s shrouded body. ‘You know, just in case…’

  Lukas nodded.

  ‘Just in case what?’ Finch asked.

  I decided to leave Lukas to answer that question. ‘I’ll meet you back here shortly,’ I said hastily. Then I skedaddled out of the building.

  ‘I was about to call you,’ Boateng said, answering on the first ring. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.’

  My muscles tensed in preparation. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’ve finally managed to get some information from the hospital. They’ve confirmed that the photo we have of Lazarus matches a patient who they’ve been treating for lung cancer called Derek Bentley.’

  Okay.

  ‘The thing is, Emma,’ Boateng said, hedging every word, ‘hospital admissions told me that on Friday night Derek Bentley was an in-patient. He checked in at three o’clock in the afternoon for routine overnight treatment and monitoring, and didn’t check himself out until the following morning. When he was supposedly murdering Patrick Lacey in Barchapel, he was also in a London hospital receiving chemotherapy.’

  I blinked several times. ‘He was setting himself up with an alibi,’ I said. ‘He was admitted into hospital then he sneaked out and made his way to Barchapel to kill Patrick Lacey and…’

  ‘No,’ Boateng interrupted. ‘I spoke to one of the nurses who attended him through the night. He was never alone for more than thirty minutes. They checked on him repeatedly. There is no way that Lazarus murdered Patrick Lacey.’

  ‘That’s not possible.’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s true.’

  Bile rose in my mouth. There was someone else; God in heaven, there was another one.

  ‘Deal with the cremation,’ Boateng advised, ‘then get here to the police station. Now we know about Lazarus, it can’t be that hard to find his companion. And where we find his companion, we’ll find that bugbear.’

  ‘We need an independent witness before the cremation can go ahead,’ I reminded him.

  ‘I’ve already dispatched two officers and a local solicitor. They should be arriving shortly.’

  ‘Good.’ I nodded. ‘I’ll meet you at the station as soon as I’m done here.’

  I’d only just ended the call when a car appeared, its wheels crunching on the gravel as it pulled into the small car park. The door opened and PC Rothsay clambered out, blinking eagerly. ‘Hey! DCI Boateng told me to come and witness the cremation?’ He phrased it as a question so I nodded in agreement.

  ‘There’s a solicitor and another officer on their way too,’ I told him. ‘Thank you for coming at such an early hour.’

  Rothsay smiled amiably. ‘It’s my job.’ He reached inside the car and took out a takeaway cup. ‘I thought you might want some coffee before we got started.’

  I exhaled. ‘You’re a godsend.’

  He grinned at me. ‘I do my best.’ He passed over the coffee. I gently laid my crossbow down by my feet and immediately took a sip. It was lukewarm, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t very welcome. I smacked my lips. ‘Amazing,’ I said. I took a larger gulp. ‘You can head inside, if you want. I’ll wait here for the others to arrive.’

  Rothsay glanced towards the crematorium door. ‘Who else is in there?’

  ‘Lukas and the director of the crematorium.’

  He licked his lips. ‘I’ll wait out here.’

  ‘He’s not dangerous,’ I said flatly.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Lukas. Lord Horvath. I know he’s a vampire, and I know that’s intimidating, but he’s a good guy.’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  I sighed. Apparently, it was going to take more than my word to sway PC Rothsay.

  ‘It is pretty incredible what you did together,’ he conceded. ‘Genuinely incredible. You saved Miranda James and her kid. Who would have thought that an old man like that could be responsible for all this trouble? I barely slept at all last night for thinking about it. And this morning, I hardly had any appetite for my breakfast. Usually I eat a huge breakfast. I’m a fan of Shreddies, but sometimes I go crazy and have Coco Pops.’

  Something about the hour or perhaps the situation seemed to have endowed Rothsay with the desperate need to chatter. I eyed him as I took another sip of the coffee. My tongue felt furry and unpleasant. I frowned while Rothsay continued to chatter.

  ‘It’s quite nice here. Peaceful. And I suppose fire is rather cleansing. When I die, I’d like to be cremated too. Both my parents were buried, but I hate the thought of being shoved in a coffin underground. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. That’s the way to go, right?’

  I put my hand up to my forehead. I was more tired than I thought and I was starting to feel rather woozy. I grimaced. I’d have to find time for a catnap so I could clear my head and deal with Boateng’s latest revelations.

  Then I paused and looked at Rothsay. Wait. What was it he’d said? He smiled at me with benign concern. My stomach turned over as I stared at him. ‘Your parents are dead?’ I asked.

  Rothsay’s smile vanished but, other than that, he didn’t move. It was as if he’d turned to stone.

  My whole body felt shaky. I swallowed and tried to focus. ‘You told me a few days ago that you were planning to ask your mum if you could borrow some silver jewellery.’ I blinked. My vision was growing blurry around the edges. ‘You wanted to guard yourself against supes.’ Rothsay didn’t twitch. My voice sounded as if it were coming from a long way off. ‘You … you … tried to send us to Miranda James last night. You told me that she’d been in a relationship with Patrick Lacey. You wanted me to go and talk to her.’

  I felt myself sway. My gaze drifted down to his feet. He was wearing boots. Large boots. ‘Julie Mackintosh wouldn’t have run away from a police officer,’ I whispered, ‘even if he was lurking in the bushes at Roselands. She wouldn’t have seen someone in uniform as a threat. And you’ve been very careful to keep yourself at a distance from Lukas. He’s a vampire. His senses are more acute than those of a human. There’s a chance that he’d be able to tell if he got too close to someone who was hosting a bugbear.’

  Unblinking, PC Rothsay continued to watch me. Then, unbelievably, he shrugged. ‘Pops,’ he said, jerking his thumb towards the crematorium doors, ‘always told me that the devil was in the detail and the less I said, the better off I’d be. I guess the old man was right. Unfortunately for you, it’s come a little too late.’

  The coffee cup slipped from my fingers, hitting the ground and splattering dark liquid in an arc around me. Several droplets landed on my crossbow. I stretched my fingers down but I already knew I wouldn’t reach it. ‘You … you…’ I pitched fo
rward as my knees buckled. Rothsay caught me. ‘You poisoned me.’

  His mouth curved into a smile; his expression was almost kind. ‘Well, I had to abduct you somehow, right? Sweet dreams, Little Em.’

  I opened my mouth to scream but no words came out. Rothsay, I thought. It was Rothsay.

  And then everything went black.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  It felt like someone had taken a hammer to my skull; in fact, it felt as if they were still at it, smashing into my head over and over and over again.

  I licked my lips and tried to open my eyes, before belatedly realising I had been blindfolded. I didn’t know where I was. And I didn’t know where Rothsay was, either.

  My hands were behind my back, bound by something that was cutting painfully into my skin. Plastic ties, the same plastic ties the police used. That shouldn’t have been surprising.

  I was sitting on what felt like a wooden chair. I sniffed the air cautiously. There was no obvious smell of either fire or brimstone, so I hadn’t died. I didn’t know how long I’d been out for, but whatever shit Rothsay had put into that coffee hadn’t killed me.

  ‘Ah,’ said a familiar voice from somewhere above my head. ‘You’re awake. That’s good. I wasn’t sure if I’d overdone it with the poison.’ He chuckled. ‘Not that it would have mattered.’

  I licked my lips and tried to speak. My words were little more than a croak. ‘You … you…’ I started to cough.

  ‘Oh dear. That won’t do.’ There was a rustle. ‘Here. Have some water.’

  I twisted my head to the left. He wouldn’t poison me again. No fucking way.

  ‘Oh, Little Em.’ Rothsay chortled. There was no other way to describe it – that was a fucking chortle. ‘You don’t mind if I call you that, right? I won’t poison you again. I have much more interesting plans for you. The water will help – I want you in tip-top condition. Why else do you think you’re here?’

  He thrust a bottle into my mouth and forced me to drink. It was only water and it tasted clean. ‘Good girl,’ he murmured. He stroked my head. ‘Good girl.’

  I flinched. His fingers brushed my cheek and my skin crawled. He lifted the blindfold and tossed it aside. A moment later, his face loomed towards mine. I blinked several times to clear my vision. He was still smiling.

  ‘Rothsay,’ I muttered, finding my voice, ‘what the fuck have you done?’

  He patted my cheek. ‘Now, now. We can be on first name terms now, can’t we? Call me Bobby.’ He smirked. ‘Bobby the bobby. That’s me.’

  I dragged my eyes away from him to check my surroundings. Where had he taken me? There was a bright light shining in my face and it was difficult to see beyond it. Rough stone walls, maybe? I glanced down. The floor wasn’t smooth. I couldn’t see any signs of an exit but there was an odd hum coming from somewhere behind me.

  ‘You’re looking for a way out. That’s sweet. But you’re not going to escape, Little Em, and nobody will find you. Pops and I spent some time planning this, and almost everything has worked out the way we thought it would.’

  Pops. I shook my head slightly and focused back on Rothsay. ‘He was your grandfather?’ I questioned. ‘Lazarus was your grandfather?’

  ‘Oh yes. We were very close, but I won’t hold the fact that you killed him against you. It was what we wanted to happen. He was dying already – you merely hastened his death.’ He smiled again. ‘You’ve been a puppet on our string from the very start.’

  He placed the bottle of water by his feet. ‘I thought that maybe we’d been too clever and I’d have to do more to point you in the right direction. We needed you to make the connection between Pops and Samuel Beswick, you see. We needed you to think that Pops was responsible for everything so you’d believe you’d solved all the crimes, let your guard down and I could swoop in.’

  Rothsay pulled a face. ‘That plan would have worked if it weren’t for that damned vampire hanging around all the time. He was supposed to die last night on Miranda James’s driveway. It’s annoying that he survived.’ He shrugged. ‘But I can adapt. I always do.’

  His tone was chilling. I’d thought that Rothsay didn’t have it in him to act. I hadn’t realised that his every conversation had been worthy of an Oscar.

  ‘I can see you still have questions,’ he murmured. ‘That’s only natural. Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time down here together. I won’t hold anything back.’ And then PC Rothsay threw back his head and laughed. ‘I won’t hold anything back at all,’ he repeated.

  A split second later, his body bulged. Like a genie from a bottle, a dark shape emerged from his spine. It seemed to grow with his every breath, taking shape and form until it wasn’t only Rothsay who faced me, it was the malevolent furred figure of the bugbear too. It was at least as tall as the man and twice as wide.

  I felt myself shrink against the chair. Alright. I was fucking scared.

  Rothsay reached across and stroked the bugbear’s head. It quivered under his touch. ‘This little fellow tasted you before, back when you were pint-sized. He only likes them young, so he won’t appreciate your blood now. It wasn’t easy to get him to kill Lacey and that stupid woman in the park. You needn’t worry, though. Barney will be rewarded for his efforts. I’ve found two-year-old twins living in Appledore that I know he’s going to love.’

  I gaped at him in dumbstruck horror.

  ‘Oh, Little Em.’ Rothsay sighed happily. ‘I have plenty of plans for you. If only Pops was here to see it. He’d be so proud.’

  ‘Your Pops murdered my parents,’ I spat.

  He nodded earnestly. ‘And Barney here murdered you. You were his first, you know. Pops told me it was rather disappointing. Barney grabbed you from behind and you were dead before you even knew what was happening. Pops refined his methods and trained Barney to be better.’ Rothsay leaned across to me. ‘You see,’ he said softly, ‘it’s much more pleasurable when we can see the fear in a subject’s eyes. And there’s nothing quite like the sensation of watching when the light goes out for good.’ He shivered. ‘It’s really quite delicious.’

  ‘How many people?’ I asked, wishing my voice wasn’t shaking. ‘How many people have you, your grandfather and this … thing murdered?’

  Rothsay’s brow furrowed, as if he were trying to think of the answer. ‘I have to be honest,’ he said finally, ‘I’m not sure. Lots. Although obviously I didn’t become involved until more recently, there must have been a murder at least once or twice a year for twenty-five years. You do the maths. I’m sure you’re capable of that much.

  ‘Naturally, Pops became much more careful after you and your family. It was a shock when you came back to life all those years ago. He knew he’d had a lucky escape and he had to be smarter to avoid detection. He became incredibly skilful at concealing what he and Barney did together.’

  He pursed his lips. ‘Not that anyone else has done what you did. But I like to think that Pops didn’t become truly expert until I joined the police and learned more about evidence collection and law enforcement.’

  Rothsay smiled affectionately at the bugbear. ‘I have to give the old man credit, though. He introduced me to Barney when I was a child myself. I always knew you were Pops’ legacy to me.’ He scratched the bugbear under the chin and it sighed with contentment. I could only shudder.

  I looked from the beast to Rothsay. ‘How does this work?’ I asked. ‘Has it taken control of you? Did it control your grandfather?’

  Rothsay snorted. ‘It’s a dumb beast. That stupid crow that follows Miranda James around is smarter than my furry friend here. Pops controlled it. Pops told it what to do. And now that Pops is dead, I’m the one in charge. As long as I provide it with a safe place to hide and enough young blood to survive on, my will is its command. It will give me strength and power beyond what any other living being is capable of.’ He smiled to himself. ‘You wait and see, Little Em. Pops was good but I’m going to be magnificent.’

  He was delusional. ‘My bo
yfriend is Lord Lukas Horvath,’ I croaked. ‘He has the entire supernatural community at his behest.’

  Rothsay smirked and stroked the bugbear again. ‘Not the entire supernatural community.’

  I shook my head. ‘Lukas won’t simply shrug and head back to London. He’ll come looking for me – and he will find me.’

  ‘No, he won’t.’ Rothsay’s confidence was unshakable. ‘I’ve had a long time to plan this.’ He gestured towards the source of the humming. ‘I have a portable generator and all the equipment I need. You’ll be down here for a long, long time.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Why focus on me? This can’t simply be about revenge because I refused to stay dead all those years ago.’

  He laughed. ‘No, you’re right. It’s not.’ He turned away and disappeared into the darkness beyond the glare of the light. The bugbear remained where it was, its slitted eyes fixed on me.

  I heard the clank of metal upon metal then Rothsay’s voice floated back to me. ‘You see, what made Pops so good was years of practice combined with the strength and help that Barney gave him. I can pick up where he left off, but I’ll never be able to match his experience. Not without you.’

  He reappeared with a metal tray in his hands. ‘You die and then you are re-born.’ His eyes shone with ardent, chilling fervour. ‘It won’t matter how many times I kill you or what different methods I use, you will always come back. I’ll be able to learn so much about the limits of a body’s endurance for pain, the best ways to kill someone quickly – and slowly. You and I will have years together to practise. And everything I do to you, I can then do to others.’

  He crouched in front of me and picked up a scalpel. ‘I thought we’d start simply. The Chinese invented the death of a thousand cuts – but will it actually take a thousand cuts? I’ll count and see. I know it’s a bit old school, but I have plenty more ideas. I’m going to learn a lot from you. Frankly, Little Em, you’re a serial killer’s wet dream.’ He lifted his head and glanced at the bugbear. ‘I’m actually getting a hard-on just thinking about it.’