‘Yep, this is what we’re looking for.’ Gold Cat held the card up to show the kelpie, twisting her face with worry. ‘But it was lost in the demon attack. It’s in the River Thames somewhere.’ The kelpie’s eyes swirled black with satisfaction. ‘If ’tis in the river then ’tis as good as found.’
‘Good to know.’ Gold Cat handed him the card. And the problem. The only fertility she was interested in was that of her pride.
As if on cue, Finn wrapped an arm around her shoulders. ‘That’s everyone safe and sound, Gen. And Hugh says he’ll catch up with us tomorrow. Ready to go to the party and celebrate with the rest?’
Gold Cat smiled. She had a lot to celebrate, not least the satyr. ‘How about we have our own party at home?’
He dropped a butterfly-light kiss on her mouth. ‘If you’re sure that’s what you want, Gen?’
Gold Cat glanced over her shoulder to where the real Genny stared from the lee of the stage, anger and the urge to kill radiating from her. Gold Cat stiffened subtly, her hackles rising as the Death she’d seen in the Black Dog’s eyes flashed before her. She readied to defend herself, then as Genny slowly stepped back into the shadows, Gold Cat relaxed and turned to the satyr.
She smiled and cupped Finn’s cheek. ‘Oh, I’m very sure that us together is what I want.’ Mate.
The evil, life-stealing cat had her hands on Finn!
Rage and fear exploded in me, Ascalon leaped into my hand, and I ran—
Straight into an invisible wall. I bounced off, landing painfully on my tailbone, and belatedly looked. The blue curtain of a Ward shimmered like a heatwave, the grey drops of a Look-away veil distorting it like sheeting rain.
I focused, ready to crack the Ward and Look-away, then froze as Bastien spoke. ‘Before you go racing off to demand satisfaction, my lovely sidhe, there is one small matter we need to discuss.’
I turned to find him with a gleeful smile on his sadistic teenage face. ‘What?’
‘I believe you have a set of tarot cards. Now would be an excellent time to consult them.’
I stared at him for a long moment, wanting nothing more than to plunge Ascalon into his heart as I’d done in the Dreamscape, then do the same to Gold Cat. Instead, I forced myself to stay calm, to play this out to the end. I let Ascalon slip back into the ring, slowly got up, and fished the cards from my back pocket. A gust of jasmine-scented wind blasted my hair back as one card flew to hover in front of my face.
The last tarot card.
The last tarot card didn’t need my blood, it already depicted an image. A male and female stood side by side, a plump cherub floating on a sunny cloud above and the Rod of Asclepius with its entwined serpent between them. The female figure was Sylvia, hands protectively spread over her pregnant belly and the sapphire fertility pendant nestled between her ‘Hello Boys’ breasts. The male figure was Bastien, crowned with his new imperial laurel wreath and (thankfully, since he was naked too) holding a misty grey disc about the size of a dinner plate strategically in front of him.
Of course, the last card would be The Lovers. The sadistic prick would revel in the irony of it. Especially as this was no doubt where the smarmy smiling psycho asked for my blood-bond and my body in exchange for telling me the answer to my question. Trouble was, I hadn’t a clue how I was going to get out of saying yes.
I curled my lip in disgust, hiding the dread icing my spine and flicked the card. ‘Hurry it up.’
Sylvia on the card gave me a tremulous smile I’d never seen on her in person. ‘You have a choice to make, Genny. It has to be made now, and if you make the wrong decision, then what has gone before will not matter; the fae’s fertility will never be recovered, it will be lost for ever and the fae will die.’ Her hands clutched at her bump.
I glared at Real Life Bastien. ‘Do you really think I’m going to believe that bullshit? When I know you and Viv have been in league since the beginning?’
He shrugged and tapped the card. Sylvia vanished to be replaced by Viviane, twirling her parasol with an affronted expression on her face. ‘The cards are sidhe-made, bean sidhe, so speak the truth. I can influence them to show less, but I cannot make them lie. You would do well to listen to them.’
Right. ‘What’s the choice?’
She reached over and touched the shoulder of Bastien in the card. A ripple ran through the picture and he blinked, then looked out of the card at me and flashed fang.
‘Ask your original question and he must answer truthfully,’ Viviane said.
I snorted. ‘Tell me how to find that which is lost, and how to join that which is sundered, to release the fae’s fertility from the pendant and restore it back to them as it was before it was taken.’
‘That which is lost is already found,’ Card Bastien said, and from behind the misty disc-thing he produced a Fabergé egg encrusted with sapphires. My heart stuttered as I recognised it as the one lost in the demon attack at Hallowe’en. Shit. I’d had the answer to the fae’s problem in my hands (or rather the bank) until the sorcerer had stolen the egg, and I’d never fucking known it. And now Smugly Smiling Bastien had it. I wanted to scream in frustration.
Real Life Bastien’s smile widened. ‘I know who has the Fabergé egg and on my word they have agreed to give it to you.’
‘Who’s got it?’ I demanded. ‘And when will you tell them to give it to me?’
Both Bastiens shook their heads, not that I’d expected anything else, then Card Bastien said, ‘To join that which is sundered and release the fae’s fertility from the pendant and restore it back to them as it was before it was taken, you will need this.’ He held up the misty grey disc and flashed something else. Thankfully, the tarot card was small, and everything else smaller, making it easy to ignore. ‘You will obtain it and bring it back to me.’
I gritted my teeth. ‘What is it, who has it and where is it?’
‘First you must agree the price.’
‘What’s the price?’
Both Bastiens closed their eyes, Card Bastien rubbing his fingers over the disc in a show of deep thought.
I clenched my fists as impatience warred with anxiety. The sadist knew exactly what he wanted; he was only drawing this out to make me sweat. While I needed this over with. Needed to do the bargain. Then I could kill Gold Cat and make sure my friends were all safe. Hug Katie and Freya. Talk things through with Finn. Tell Tavish how to restore the fae’s fertility. Get back to Spellcrackers and my life, away from all this craziness. And find out what happened next between me and Malik. Only, the roiling in my gut told me some, maybe even all, of that probably wasn’t going to happen.
Finally, Card Bastien nodded as if he’d come to a decision. ‘You are to keep Malik al-Khan’s soul.’
Surprise washed through me. Okay, that was unexpected and not necessarily a deal breaker—
‘No, Genevieve. You will not.’
—for me anyway. I winced as Malik’s shouted order clamped my mind, and his soul speared its claws into my heart. Then Malik’s order cracked and melted like ice caught in fire. I shot an astonished look over my shoulder to see him striding towards us, flames burning in his pupils, black shadows writhing about him in fury.
Real Life Bastien gave a grunt of disgust and, out the corner of my eye, I saw him lift his finger again and Malik and his shadows froze. I turned back to scowl at the psycho unease shivering over me. Bastien was determined to be rid of Malik’s soul, Malik was just as determined I shouldn’t have it, while his soul looked like it was clinging – literally – to my heart. And I was the one stuck in the middle. I didn’t need any of Viv’s predictions to tell me this wasn’t going to end well.
Bastien waggled his finger. ‘You will notice, my princess, that while you bear my loyal shadow’s soul you are no longer under his sway. He can no longer order you to do his bidding. Am I correct?’
Ah, well, that explained why Malik’s order didn’t take. Not that I was going to tell the psycho he was right. ‘Get on with it.’
He was repeating – almost word for word – what I’d told Tavish at the gnome’s house right before the first tarot card reading. Fucking Viviane, earwigging on private conversations. And never mind what Bastien said, stripping Malik of the power to order me around didn’t instantly grant me control of my life. Or stop self-satisfied sacks of shit like Bastien from blackmailing me.
‘Fine!’ I snapped. ‘Your price for giving me the information I need to be able to sort out the fae’s fertility is to keep Malik’s soul. I—’
‘Not so fast, princess,’ he interrupted, angry colour staining his cheeks. Inwardly, I cursed. I’d known he’d want more, but I’d nearly had him. ‘There are two parts to your question,’ he said, ‘so there are two parts to my price. The first is that you are to keep Malik’s soul until either he agrees to take it back, or I agree its transfer to myself or another.’
Now we were getting to it. ‘What’s the second?’
‘When you attain that’ – he pointed at the misty disc Card Bastien was holding – ‘I am to have first use of it before any other.’
I clamped down on my shock. He didn’t want my blood-bond? Was this a trick? I narrowed my eyes. ‘Will your first use in any way negate or destroy the disc’s power, or stop it from having the ability to join that which is sundered and release the fae’s fertility from the pendant, so that their fertility is restored to all as it was before it was taken, in an acceptable time frame – which I would nominate as no longer than three human-world days – or in any way deny the fae the use of the disc immediately after you?’
‘No.’
Nice unequivocal answer, so no deal-breaker there. Something which had suspicion twitching over my skin. Really, if I ignored Malik’s agitation about keeping his soul, it was way too easy. ‘What’s the disc?’
‘An item of great power,’ Bastien said, an ecstatic expression lighting his face.
Figured. ‘Does it have a name?’
‘The Hidden Rune of Iron.’
Well, at least it wasn’t the Holy Grail or a Golden Fleece. ‘What’s it do?’
He gave me a look as if it were a stupid question. ‘One of its other names is the Restorer.’
I cut him a look. ‘What do you want to restore?’
He smiled.
I shrugged. ‘So where is it?’
‘The Hidden Rune of Iron is also thus named due to its ephemeral nature which makes it difficult to locate.’
Damn. Easy just got hard.
A sly look crossed his face. ‘But I have it on good authority that it has been seen recently at The Court of Love and Beauty in the Fair Lands.’
Crap. Hard just hit dangerous. An impossible to find magical item, and— ‘The queen of that Court is Clíona, my grandmother.’
He inclined his head. ‘Then maybe she can be of assistance to you, my princess, and your quest will be concluded quickly.’
Concluded and quick it would be, but not because I’d find the Rune. ‘My grandmother wants me dead.’
‘Well, well, not everything in life is convenient.’
He’d got that right.
On the card, Viviane twirled her parasol. ‘The time has come for you to choose, bean sidhe. Do you accept Bastien’s price, or not?’
‘So I keep Malik’s soul and attain this Hidden Rune of Iron under the exact conditions specified, and at that point you will ensure that the person who has the Fabergé egg will give the egg to me, or to any of London’s fae, with all knowledge that they have about the item, in its undamaged condition.’
A frown lined his brows. ‘The egg will be undamaged from their possession, as for anything else, I cannot say.’
I grunted in acknowledgement. ‘Fair enough. So that’s it? There’s nothing else?’ Like wanting my blood-bond?
Bastien smiled. ‘There is one other condition.’
Of course there was. ‘What?’
‘Time is of the essence,’ Card Bastien said. ‘You must leave now. No stopping to converse with your friends or anyone else. Otherwise the opportunity to attain the rune will be lost.’
I rocked back on my heels. ‘You’re kidding me?’
‘He cannot lie, bean sidhe,’ Viviane said softly. ‘His spirit is guided by the cards.’
I looked away from the card to the open space, at those I loved gathered around Gold Cat the imposter. If I left now, with her there, they might never know I was gone . . .
An ache closed my throat; my eyes stung. I took a deep breath, swallowed the threatening tears back. No way would I give Bastien the satisfaction of seeing how much leaving would hurt. Then panic overwhelmed that hurt as something way more crucial hit me. Gold Cat was out for survival, her own and her pride, and ruthless with it. If I left now, who knew what she’d do to Katie, and to Finn. And Bastien’s price meant I couldn’t even warn them, let alone protect them—
I had Ascalon. I could kill her.
It would take no more than a minute.
Or ten.
Or she’d fight back, and even with Ascalon I might not be a match for a primal spirit. Then what if I killed her? There’d still be the fallout. Ten minutes could end up an hour or more . . .
But no way did I trust Bastien or Viviane’s tarot cards not to skew things in their favour. For all I knew I could have days, weeks even, before the chance to locate the Rune was lost. But could I take that risk when the fae’s fertility was at stake, and ultimately their lives too?
In a weird déjà vu moment, I realised I’d been here before, not this exact spot, and not this exact choice, but I was still making a decision that would affect them all. But as Tavish had told me, it was my blood on both my fae and vamp sides that had started this. I was the key. If I screwed up and chose wrong it wasn’t only Katie and Finn in peril, but Tavish and Ana and Freya and Sylvia and Ricou and Baby Grace and all the rest. They were all fae. They would all die.
My heart hurting as if it were being ripped in two, I turned back at Bastien.
‘Well, what choice do you make, my sweet sidhe?’
I pointed at Malik a get-out-of-the-deal idea sparking. ‘Unfreeze him, or there’s no deal.’
One eyebrow rose, then Bastien smiled. My stomach sank – he looked way too pleased with himself – as Malik’s hand closed on my arm. I turned and gave him a short and not-so-sweet update, then asked, ‘Do you know who holds the Fabergé egg?’
Malik’s eyes emptied, turning opaque as black glass as he flicked a look towards Bastien. ‘No, I do not.’
Damn. Bastien’s reaction had told me that would be Malik’s answer, but I’d still hoped. I clenched my fist around Ascalon’s ring. Maybe I should just kill the psycho vamp and take the chance that, with Malik’s help, I could find the egg.
Bastien laughed, the sound grating on my ears. ‘Oh, yes, one more point. If I die, then the one who holds the Fabergé egg will destroy it.’
Fuck. He was right. I couldn’t kill him. Not yet. Not till I had the egg in my hands. And no way was he going to give me that before I got the rune.
‘Genevieve.’ Malik took my hand in his and drew me aside. ‘You do not have to do this. I will fetch this rune you need. Give my soul back to Bastien, stay here and help your friends, and live your life. Let me do this for you.’
My heart filled with warmth, and more, that he would offer.
But I had to do this. I knew it in my gut.
I had to make this journey.
I kept my gaze on Malik, but spoke to Bastien and the magic. ‘I agree the terms.’
A chime split the air. The sound reverberated inside me. Bargain ma
de.
I took a shaky breath. Then another stronger one, and gave Malik a grim smile. ‘Looks like I’m leaving for the Fair Lands.’
Malik’s hand tightened around mine, my own resolve reflecting in the black depths of his eyes. ‘Then, Genevieve, we shall go together.’
Read more about Genny’s adventures in
THE HIDDEN RUNE OF IRON
Coming soon from Gollancz
Writing a book is a solitary endeavour but getting it from first draft to publication takes a lot of hard work, encouragement and support from a wonderful and generous group of people. My deepest thanks and appreciation to everyone whose help has made this book a thousand times better, any errors are my own.
As with all my books, the characters in this one are a product of my imagination and bear no relation to any real people, living, dead or otherwise . . . except for where they do!
So grateful thanks to Steve Dean for his generous support in the Genre for Japan auction and for agreeing to be a bad-die and suffering a suitably horrible fate! I hope you like your tuckerisation! And to Jonathan Weir, publicist extraordinaire at Gollancz, for allowing me to take his and David O’Reilly’s names in vain, and for being eminently bribeable, err, kindly arranging for me to meet one of my all-time writerly heros – the fabulous Charlaine Harris.
Thanks to John Jarrold, my agent, for his belief in me; thanks to all the Gollancz crew for their support, commitment and the gorgeous new covers; and especially to Gillian Redfearn, editor magnifique, for her patience, her words of editorial wisdom, and her enthusiasm for Genny & Co.
Thanks to the Thursday Writers, a truly inspiring bunch: Malcolm Angel, Alison Aquilina, Judy Monckton, and Doreen Cory, who have travelled this amazing journey with me from the start.
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