“I see that you approve. In the West we tend to think of coffee as a simple beverage. But a Sidhe bean like this, freshly ground…” he inclined his cup up in a mini salute, “is as flavoursome as the finest of fine wines.”
Then he ignored me for a moment as he drank, taking the cup between steepled fingers.
I drank some more, the intermingled flavours filling my head. It was all gone much too quickly.
“I didn’t know that the Sidhe produced coffee.”
“They have the most astonishingly diverse climate. Really quite special. The trade potential alone between our two worlds is potentially worth billions?”
“Are you some sort of trade envoy then?”
“No, no. Nothing so prosaic. I am merely a cultural attache attempting to facilitate relations between our two worlds.”
“You talk as though you’ve seen Arcadia for yourself.”
He lowered his head. “I have been more than fortunate in that regard.”
I tried to work out if he was just the victim of some highly sophisticated Glamour spell. If that wasn’t the case, then he was the most zealous convert to the Sidhe cause I’d ever come across. But then, with coffee this good, it was hardly surprising. I upended my cup and watched as a fine rivulet of coffee ran down the inside. I licked at it greedily.
It was the best coffee I had ever tasted. I held the cup towards him, desperately hoping that he would offer me a re-fill. But he didn’t.
“And so we turn to the business of the day. I assume that you know why we’re meeting like this?”
It was tempting to play dumb but that would only waste time. “You’re talking about last night’s attack.”
“Very regrettable. Her majesty offers her condolences to the families of those who lost their lives while at the same time asserting the absolute innocence of the Sidhe peoples.”
“But the bombers were all citizens of Arcadia.”
“Impossible. We are a civilised people. Why would we commit such a barbarous act?”
“We still have one of them in custody. I believe the intention is to ask him.”
“If he really is a member of the Sidhe then we must be granted diplomatic access.”
I was quickly getting out of my depth.
“After what happened last night, I don’t think that’s going to happen. Things are very tense at the moment.”
“Her majesty has long admired your principled stand against the darker forces at play in your world. In recognition of this she hopes that you will honour us by accepting the title ‘Knight of the Order of the Fray.’”
Accept nothing from the Sidhe, Ma Birch used to say, not even compliments.
“Er, that’s very nice,” I said. “But I’m afraid that I’ll have to decline.”
Salazar smiled and edged forward in his seat, as though my acceptance was a mere formality.
“Of course. At this current time, to receive such an honour might be misconstrued as being somehow indelicate. But it is hoped that, once this current climate of suspicious is behind us, that you would do us the honour of accepting not only the title but also the role of magical ambassador.”
Salazar was good. I had to give him that. He was very good.
Magical ambassador? I had no idea what that even constituted but it sounded very grand. Utter nonsense of course, but very grand. It pained me that - even though I knew what was coming next - I couldn’t help feeling tempted by the offer. It was extremely flattering to receive so much attention.
“In order to ensure the quick and speedy resolution of the current misunderstanding you have been selected to staunchly defend the Kingdom’s interests in this matter. While the concept of warfare is not completely alien to us, the idea of engaging in a struggle with mankind is one that we would happily avoid. As a result, the queen is hoping that you can come to our aid on this sensitive matter.”
His words were so carefully couched, that I couldn’t decide whether this was some kind of veiled threat or a genuine plea for help.
“But what do you want me to do?”
“Something that you have done already.”
Now he was talking in riddles.
“Can you be a little more specific?”
“We need you to find Sigurdsil and bring it to us.”
I looked at him blankly.
“You may know of it by another name: the Seelie Blade?”
“But that’s impossible. The blade was destroyed.”
He smiled. “If that were the case then our situation would be dire indeed. But Sigurdsil still exists and is located somewhere within the city.”
“How do you know this?”
He waved my question aside. “It is imperative that you help us to retrieve it. You were the last known person to have the blade in your possession. The blade will call to you. All you need do is listen.”
This made no sense. I looked out of the window. We were starting to slow down. I calculated how quickly I could be out into the road.
“I’d love to help you, but I’ve got pressing business back in Scotland.”
“We know all about your connections with the Laing family.”
I had known this would come up at some point but, even so…
“If you could stop the car now, please. I’d like to get out.”
“But you haven’t heard my proposal.”
“I’m not interested, thank you. Could you let me out now?”
The idea of using magic to open the door occurred to me, but I was at pains not to offend him if I could help it.
“It is regrettable that Mr Laing finds himself in such desperate circumstances. Perhaps her majesty could offer you her assistance in this matter.”
I tried not to look at him. Every time I thought about Silas I got upset.
“I don’t think that there’s much she could do in this situation.”
I considered my escape routes. He’d be expecting me to try and leave by the nearside door because that would open out onto the kerbside. But if I went out of the other door I’d be stepping directly into traffic.
“Then you’d be mistaken. Her majesty is powerful indeed. She could restore Mr Laing to full health with a minimum of effort.”
I edged over to the offside door, it was unlocked. I waited until we’d come to a complete stop before opening it.
Then I turned to Salazar. “Do you even believe half the stuff you’re saying?”
“Why wouldn’t I!” he seemed genuinely amused. “I have witnessed the queen’s beneficence on a number of occasions. She is really quite a remarkable woman.”
I found his absolute conviction to be alarming, bordering on idolatry. I swung the door open and stepped out onto the road. The traffic had come to a standstill.
I leaned back into the car. “If you’re so keen on pursuing peace why do you need the blade?”
“I think you know why.”
The blade is also known as The King Killer. No one is immune to its devastating effects, even the members of the Elder Races. Werewolves, vampires, Sidhe - it makes no difference. Even a queen who, to all intents and purposes, is immortal would have no protection against it.
No wonder she was so keen to acquire it. It might well be the only thing capable of killing her.
“How long do I have?” I said. “If I accept your offer?”
Salazar pulled himself forward his eyes bright as he sensed me weakening. “The clock is already ticking, Miss Fellows. Any threat to our queen is a threat to all the Sidhe peoples. If that threat were to be removed then we could all go back to living our lives. As would be the case with you and Mr Laing. There is no time to lose.”
I looked along the line of traffic. The lights were changing.
“What are we talking about? Days? Weeks? Months?”
He pulled back his jacket sleeve, considered his watch.
“You have forty eight hours.”
I stood in the middle of the road and watched the Bentley disappear into traffic.
<
br /> CHAPTER FOUR
“And, did you believe him?”
Millie was standing over me with a bottle of Pinot Grigio.
I allowed her to top up my glass before taking a sip.
The wine was cold and crisp on my tongue.
“That’s the problem. I did believe him.”
I was sitting on the sofa. I’d kicked my shoes off and pulled my feet under me to keep warm.
I continued. “I did believe him. I actually did. It’s the Sidhe I don’t trust.”
“But he said that the queen could help you with Silas.” Millie sat down on the chair opposite. She didn’t sit all the way back because the springs had gone. We needed a new chair. But we’d both been too busy to buy one.
“Ma Birch had a saying: ‘Accept nothing from the Sidhe…’”
“’Not even compliments.’” Millie said. “I know. So Ma Birch wasn’t a fan. But that was a long while ago.”
“And she’d never met one. But you have. Remember? Just the other night.”
Millie had to think for a moment. “Oh, yes. Of course. That Florian guy. That was weird.”
“You haven’t said much about it.”
Millie sat even further forward, swirling the liquid in her glass. “Not much to say. He was very charming, considering. It was strange but I never got the sense that I was the one in control. He didn’t seem at all concerned that we’d arrested him. He appeared to be enjoying himself. It was a minor inconvenience that was all.”
“And yet, he tried to blow himself up? Why would he do that?”
“Well, I’ve been giving that some thought. What if he didn’t know that the powder was going to explode?”
“Really?”
“No, think about it. What if he thought that by pouring the granules into the water it was going to give off … oh, I don’t know. A smokescreen, say. To help him escape. Honestly, Bronte, I just didn’t get the impression that he was about to kill himself.”
“It would be helpful if we could get access to him. Just for a couple of minutes.”
“Not going to happen. Macmillan’s got him hidden away in some maximum security lock-up. They’re not going to be taking any chances where he’s concerned.”
I let out a sigh of frustration. The Inner Council hadn’t wasted any time in asserting their authority after the loss of the Bear Garden. We couldn’t even get access to basic information.
Then I had an idea.
“Perhaps we don’t need to speak to this Florian guy. You were there. Can you recall what you were talking about before it happened?”
Millie tapped her glass against her teeth. It was annoying but it helped her think.
“I was doing that thing where I ask them about their dietary requirements. Trying to catch him off guard.”
“Did it work?”
“Actually, I think it did. Kinsella had suggested that we try and fool him into thinking we’d captured the whole team. All five of them. He wanted to pretend that their mission had been a complete failure. That way, we hoped that they’d figure they had nothing to lose. Perhaps let something slip about the whereabouts of the other two.”
“And? Did he believe you?”
“Yes, I think he did. When I said that there were five interviewers he looked at me very strangely. Then he blinked. Yes, that was it. He blinked like he was one of those old cameras and he was taking a photograph. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
Millie inclined the bottle in my direction but I shook my head. I needed to slow down or I was going to be drunk before our take-away arrived.
Millie adjusted her position on the chair. She clearly wasn’t comfortable.
“So, you’ve made your mind up then. About that other thing.”
“What other thing?”
“The Seelie Blade or whatever it’s called. I mean, it’s dangerous. You’d be mad to go after it.”
“Sigurdsil,” I settled back on the sofa. “Do you want to sit on here? I’ll squeeze up if you like.”
“I’m fine. And stop changing the subject. You’re considering it, aren’t you? Going after that thing.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Really? I thought it was obvious.”
*
The place was closed.
The front window was obscured from the inside with a printed sheet which advertised the fact that they dealt in House Clearance work as well as a Same Day Rubbish Removal Service. There was no clear glass on show. Similarly, the door was made of one solid piece of wood. There was a doorbell but it didn’t look like it had worked for a very long time. I tried peeking through the letter-box but they’d installed black brushes making it impossible to see anything.
“What do you think?” Millie asked.
I consulted the address on my phone. “Well, this is definitely the place.”
“Looks like nobody’s in.”
It was a normal North London high street: every other shop was a fast food outlet interspersed with grocery stores, hairdressers’ and mini-cab businesses. There was a fair amount of litter on the pavement despite the fact that we’d seen two refuse trucks make pick-ups in the short time we’d been there.
I knocked on the door but there was no answer.
We inquired at the kebab shop next door. The manager came out and spoke to us. He said that he had seen people going in and out of the shop previously but he hadn’t spoken to any of them. He also told us that there’d been very little activity in the last few months and had assumed that they’d simply gone out of business.
He gave us the address of the landlord but, when I rang the number, I got no reply.
“He’s not here,” Millie said. “Have you not got his home address?”
I shook my head. There were two windows above the shop but they both looked vacant.
“Let’s try round the back,” I said.
An alleyway ran through to the back of the shops, wide enough for only one person at a time to pass through. We located the rear of the House Clearance business. Like the other shops, it had a small back yard accessed through a wooden gate. I lifted the lever and went inside. Millie followed but she didn’t look happy. The yard was full of junk. The horses from a Carousel ride were stored on one side behind a pile of building materials: breeze-blocks and bags of plaster. In the middle of the yard was a wheel-barrow filled with hardened cement.
As we drew closer to the back of the shop, I saw that the back door was slightly open. I pointed this out to Millie who grabbed my arm in an attempt to dissuade me from going inside but I was determined to see this through.
The door fitted a little too snugly into its frame and opened in a series of short jolts. The place smelled of mildew and damp but there was something underlying that which I found difficult to place. There was a small kitchen area whose work surfaces were covered with blobs of plaster from some abandoned DIY project. It was difficult to move through the corridor as every last vestige of space had been used for storage. Wooden units lined one wall filled with various electrical items from toasters to old VCRs. One room I looked into was filled from floor to ceiling with card-board boxes crammed with old books. They felt damp to the touch, the pages starting to come away.
If this was the good stuff they had decided to keep, I marvelled at what they’d chosen to throw away. There were rooms and rooms filled with junk, nothing that was even remotely usable. One room was filled with rails full of stage costumes which we might have been tempted to try on if they hadn’t been so abjectly filthy.
It didn’t take long to explore all the rooms downstairs and eventually we found ourselves in the room the removal business had operated from. There was a desk with an ancient computer and a land line. Opposite that was a large counter housing three glass display cabinets. Millie went over to examine the contents but returned pulling a wretched face.
“There’s nothing here,” she said. “Let’s go.”
“What about upstairs?”
She didn’t say anything, just crossed her arms dolefully.
There was no carpet on the stairs so it was impossible to climb them without making a noise. Since there was no telling who was up there, I decided to prepare a couple of defensive spells. There was a dark smudge on one wall and I stopped to study it further. I thought at first that it might be blood stain but, when I looked more closely, saw that it was a boot print.
Signs of a struggle?
When I straightened up, my chest was level with the first floor landing and I found I could look into the three rooms branching off. All the doors had been removed at some point. From where I was standing I had a good view of the front bedroom. There was a pile of grey ash spilling over the bare floorboards.
I had to go into the room to get a better look. It was a corpse. A burnt body doesn’t give off much of an odour other than the charred smell you might associate with barbecues. It’s not an unpleasant smell. I couldn’t tell much about it other than the fact that it was a very large adult lying face down. It was impossible to tell from where I was standing whether it was male or female.
I squatted down to get a closer look at the blackened husk. The body had settled over time. One of the arms had snapped off and had started to crumble and the chest cavity had partially caved-in revealing a splay of ribs. The only other part that was recognisable were the victims feet, still clad in a pair of soft leather boots. They were beautifully made and seemed to have come from a different age altogether. Sidhe craftsmanship. There was no mistaking it.
I heard Millie moving about on the landing behind me. Without turning, I indicated for her to come and join me. I wanted to take some photographs but I needed something that would provide a sense of scale. Ideally, a ruler or a tape measure.
Annoyed, I turned to see what was keeping her.
Only it wasn’t Millie.
Standing on the staircase, holding a revolver was someone I recognised.
“Hello Macrory.”
*
It was definitely him though his face looked a little pouchy and worn since I’d last seen him. He couldn’t have looked any less like a member of the Sidhe, though that was of course exactly what he was. Admittedly, one who’d over stayed his welcome on earth, sacrificing most of his powers to do so, but he couldn’t change his lineage.
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