New Order (Bo Blackman Book 2)

by Helen Harper

  My tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth. I have no idea what’s going on.

  ‘Connor!’ he yells.

  ‘Not in the house,’ I hear my grandfather say from the other room.

  Michael grips my arm and pulls me towards the garden door. After two steps, he frowns and lets go. Before I can say or do anything, he scoops me up, carrying me against his chest. I let out a small yelp.

  ‘Shush.’ He opens the door to the small patch of well-trimmed grass behind my grandfather’s house.

  ‘Put me down,’ I protest.

  Gently, he allows me to escape his embrace. Embarrassingly, however, I have to lean against him or risk falling flat on my face.

  I see Connor’s red-haired mop in front of me. He smiles and steps up. ‘Hi,’ he grins, then thrusts out his forearm. ‘Wrist, right?’

  This time I don’t even think, I just sink in my teeth. I’ve never tasted anything so glorious. I suck and suck and suck, dimly aware of Michael curving an arm round my waist to support me as I drink. I can feel the warm blood trickling down my throat and making its way through me. A glow spreads through my body. When I can’t take any more, I pull away.

  Connor opens his eyes and smiles again. ‘Thank you,’ he says as he leaves.

  I’m the one who should be showing gratitude. I’m starting to realise how stupid my enforced starvation has been.

  Michael is still at my back. His arm tightens round my waist and I feel his breath on my neck as he bends down towards me. ‘Don’t ever do that again, Bo Blackman,’ he whispers, ‘or I swear I will kill you myself.’

  I stay where I am. There’s an odd fluttering in my stomach ‒ it must be because of Connor’s blood. ‘What are you doing here, my Lord?’ I ask. ‘I thought you’d be happy to wash your hands of me.’

  ‘If you’d done what you were supposed to do and come here first, we wouldn’t have had this problem,’ he growls. ‘Were you with the lawyer?’

  I start. ‘No.’ I finally pull away and turn to look up at him. ‘I don’t understand. What do you mean do what I was supposed to?’

  A smile flickers across his mouth. ‘You really haven’t worked it out yet?’

  My expression must give him my answer because his grin widens. ‘You weren’t coping. We have this one-size-fits-all law that all fledglings have to stay within their Families’ walls until they can withstand the sun. The trouble is that you’re not the same size as other people.’

  ‘You’re making fun of my height?’

  ‘No, love.’

  The endearment jolts me. I search for something to say to avoid showing my surprise. ‘If you knew I wasn’t coping, why didn’t you do something?’

  ‘I did.’

  I frown at him.

  ‘I got the daemon to suggest you could leave.’

  ‘O’Shea?’

  ‘And Arzo to tell you things weren’t working for you.’

  I do a double take.

  ‘Connor told you about other places where you could drink freely,’ Michael continues.

  ‘Hold on, you told them to say those things?’

  ‘I even introduced you to a bloody lawyer who deals with vampire recruitment.’ For a second, he scowls. ‘You were supposed to call him, not Harry freaking D’Argneau. Why do you think I let you hang on to that phone?’

  I gape. ‘But you said you’d lock me in my room! You made it very clear that I wasn’t to leave.’

  ‘I’m sorry I pushed things so hard in my office. I didn’t mean for you get so upset.’ His eyes search mine. ‘It was the red-button theory.’

  ‘Uh?’

  ‘If you tell someone not to push the red button, that’s all they want to do. Nine times out of ten they’ll push it.’ He shrugs. ‘It’s human nature. And vampire nature.’

  ‘You were goading me into leaving?’ I step back and fold my arms.

  ‘I told you I thought the law was archaic. I took you out to show you what you were capable of so you’d realise you were strong enough to manage.’

  ‘Why the hell didn’t you just tell me I could go?’ I yell.

  ‘It had to come from you ‒ it’s the only way the other Family Heads would accept your departure. Once you’d chosen to go, I could present it as out of my hands and offer them an acceptable alternative. You have the fact that you saved their hides a few months ago on your side.’

  I try to absorb what he’s telling me. ‘Medici. Medici said it wouldn’t work and that the humans wouldn’t fall for it. Is that it? He was referring to your alternative?’

  Michael’s jaw tenses. ‘I thought you’d come here. I didn’t have anyone follow you when you left the mansion because this seemed the logical place to come. When you didn’t arrive…’ He lets out a quiet snarl. ‘Medici should never have approached you.’

  ‘He tried to get me to sign up with him. That was because of this alternative,’ I say, thinking aloud. ‘What is it?’

  Michael takes my hand, his thumb gently stroking my palm. ‘The humans’ antipathy towards us is growing. Ever since Nicky, there’s been a movement to stop us recruiting and to strip us of our legal powers. It’s a small minority for now but it’s gaining momentum.’

  I think of the taxi driver’s reaction to me. ‘So?’

  ‘So we set up an agency. A bridge between the humans and the vampires. It will investigate complaints and deal with any issues that arise. It’ll smooth over problems.’

  Comprehension finally dawns. ‘And you think I can be a part of this.’

  ‘It’s a good compromise, Bo. You will still have the Family’s protection but you don’t have to feel trapped by us. Arzo is in. Connor will be there.’

  I start to protest but he stops me.

  ‘I know how much you dislike drinking. If you stick to one donor then it won’t be so hard. Connor will make a great personal assistant. Matt will join you for protection.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s a fledgling like you but he’s strong and loyal.’ A shadow crosses Michael’s face. ‘Keeping him in the mansion isn’t doing him any good either.’

  ‘Why would the humans trust a bunch of vampires to investigate vampires?’

  ‘Because you voluntarily left the Family. Arzo is Sanguine. Connor is human. You can hire another human investigator to even things out.’

  I run my hand through my hair. ‘What about the other Families?’

  ‘They’re all on board.’

  ‘Apart from Medici.’

  ‘He was outvoted. I’ll have words with him about approaching you in the way he did.’

  ‘Don’t bother,’ I say absently. ‘That’s what he wants you to do.’

  ‘If it works, the other Families will send representatives to join you.’

  ‘If it works,’ I say.

  ‘Do you think it won’t?’

  ‘No, it’s a good idea.’ I look down, scuffing the grass with my toe. ‘I guess my grandfather agrees too.’

  ‘Yes.’ There’s a pause. ‘What’s wrong, Bo?’

  ‘You manipulated me!’ I burst out. ‘And I didn’t even twig that’s what you were doing. I’m supposed to be a private investigator who can work things out and see through people and you had me dancing on strings like a puppet!’

  ‘Bo…’

  ‘Just like Nicky did!’

  His eyes soften. ‘Nicky fooled all of us and I’ve been around a lot longer than you. A bit more experience and a bit more training, and you’ll run circles around the lot of us. Your best teacher is your last mistake.’ He looks away from me, as if he’s embarrassed. ‘I’ve never met anyone I have more faith in,’ he says quietly.

  I swallow hard. I’m about to reach for his hand again when I hear someone approaching and turn round. My grandfather walks in and gives me a cup of tea.

  ‘It’s a new order,’ he says gruffly. ‘Your Lord Montserrat is smarter than he looks.’

  ‘There’s a lot that won’t change, Bo,’ Michael adds. ‘You’re still a vampire. And what
Arzo say about post-traumatic…’

  ‘Yeah,’ I interrupt. ‘I know. When we argued in your office, I had a hallucination.’

  ‘I thought as much. We can get you help.’

  I smile at him. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You said something else back then. About Arzo. Is there anything I need to know?’

  I really want to tell him about the Templetons. Another thought strikes me, however. ‘Um, if this is going to work, it has to be independent. If we come running to you all the time then no one will trust us. If I’m going to be a credible go-between…’

  Michael nods. ‘I understand.’ A shadow crosses his face. ‘If there’s any danger though…’

  ‘I’ll have you on speed-dial.’

  ‘Charge your goddamn phone first.’

  I grin.

  ‘Well done, Bo.’ There’s a hint of pride in my grandfather’s voice. ‘This might just work after all.’

  * * *

  Seemingly assured that I’m not going to keel over again, Michael takes his leave. On his way out, he promises to finalise my new contract within the next day or two and tells me that Arzo is already looking for new premises. Apparently they have to be showy enough to merit Montserrat approval but not so intimidating that no one will dare to enter them. A week on Monday, Michael’s PR team will release the details to the press.

  I walk out with him, noting that he used Ursus’s bike to get here. We stand together for a moment, neither of us saying anything. I wish I knew what he was thinking. The silence stretches out, then he gives a little shake, gets on the bike and goes without looking back.

  I stare into the night after him, wondering what he would have done if I’d grabbed him and kissed him. I eventually decide that I’m reading too much into our relationship. His position as Head of the Montserrat Family means that he cares about all his vampires, even the half-witted ones like me. I promise that when this new firm is up and running I’ll do everything I can to make it a success. Not just because I need to prove myself competent, but also because I owe it to Michael.

  I go back inside and join my grandfather at the kitchen table. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on how long it took me to say goodbye to Michael.

  ‘I’ve lived in this house for a long time, Bo,’ he tells me. ‘I’ve never invited a vampire in during all that time.’ He shakes his head.

  I watch him carefully. Is he disappointed that I’ve turned into a full-blown bloodguzzler? I’ve never heard him say anything complimentary about any triber.

  He grimaces and focuses on something else. ‘So, shell-shock?’

  I shrug. ‘I guess.’

  ‘You need to find the trigger,’ he says. ‘There’ll be one thing that sets it off. My father – your great-grandfather – fought at the Somme. Afterwards…’ His voice trails away.

  I stare at him. He’s never spoken about the past before. Before I can ask him to continue, he changes the subject. ‘Speaking of the war, do you know the significance of white feathers?’

  ‘Something to do with pacifism?’

  He inhales. ‘I told your mother she shouldn’t have sent you to that comprehensive. Sometimes your education is sorely lacking.’

  I bristle.

  ‘Yes,’ he continues, ‘some cultures consider the white feather as a symbol of pacifism. During World War I, however, it was used for more confrontational purposes. Women, often not much younger than yourself, would present men with a white feather as an encouragement to enlist.’ His face twists. ‘If you received a white feather, then you were a coward. You weren’t man enough to fight in a war. Those silly girls thought they were promoting bravery and patriotism. It got to the point where almost anyone out of uniform, no matter where they were or what they were doing, was given one of the damn things. Soldiers on leave and wearing civvies got them. Discharged veterans minding their own business on public transport got them.’ He shakes a finger at me. ‘Those suffragettes may have done a lot of good for this country but they also demonised any man who had the guts to refuse to sign up.’

  I blink at his tirade. He wasn’t born until a few months into the start of the World War II so it can hardly be based on personal experience. Unless…

  ‘Great-grandfather,’ I say softly.

  ‘Yes.’ He stares off into the distance. ‘The Order of The White Feather has a lot to answer for.’

  ‘They’re not still around though, surely?’

  ‘Not in that guise.’ He comes back to the present. ‘Your Lord Montserrat told me about your feather.’

  ‘He’s not my anything,’ I say firmly. ‘And besides, my feather is green. Moreover, I paid for it. I certainly wasn’t given it.’

  ‘I understood you had little choice in the matter.’

  I jut out my bottom lip. ‘Not much,’ I finally admit.

  ‘White is the colour of peace,’ he says. ‘The Order subverted it to represent cowardice. What is green the colour of?’

  ‘Jealousy.’

  ‘Indeed. Or in this case, being in possession of something someone else wants. The white feather was a challenge to enlist. The green feather is also a challenge.’

  ‘A challenge for what?’

  ‘That, my dear, is something you’ll need to work out on your own.’

  I curl my fingers round my cup and gaze at him. ‘I was looking for a cure. Some kind of spell that might bring me back to what I was.’ Hope fills my voice. ‘Maybe if I meet this challenge, the neo-druid who sold me the feather will find the cure for me.’

  He snorts. ‘Good grief. There’s no cure! If there was, don’t you think I’d have heard about it? And what’s this nonsense about a neo-druid? There’s no such thing!’

  ‘Ha!’ I jab a finger at him. ‘You don’t know everything. She was impressed when I worked out what she was.’

  ‘Bo,’ he shakes his head. ‘Tribers include witches, daemons, ghosts and vampires. There are no neo-druids ‒ they’re an invention, nothing more than people who want to dabble in the magic arts but don’t have the ability. I have no doubt that when you told this woman you thought she was a neo-druid, she was congratulating you on realising that she’s actually just a shill.’

  ‘But I got a sense of magic from her.’

  ‘That may be so but it doesn’t change their lack of power.’

  ‘I’ve been in a more than one sodding magic shop recently,’ I argue. ‘This one was real.’

  He throws his hands up in the air. ‘So she sells the genuine article. So what? It doesn’t make her genuine.’

  ‘She’s not selling anything any more,’ I say grumpily. ‘She’s run off.’

  ‘Good riddance. You’ll gain nothing from going further down that avenue.’

  I think about the dead mugger. There’s more to this than meets the eye. ‘Let’s say it’s an avenue I want to go down. Where would I find someone pretending to be a neo-druid?’

  ‘How would I know?’

  I give him a look. He casts his eyes up to the heavens. ‘They venerate nature so maybe you’ll find her in a field somewhere in the Home Counties.’

  ‘That’s not very helpful,’ I inform him.

  ‘They also tend to conduct their important ceremonies during the eye of the sun.’ His mouth twitches. ‘I take it that might be a bit of a problem for you.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘Sarcasm is unbecoming.’ He gets to his feet. ‘Anyway, I am going to embark on my own journey up the wooden hill to bed. It’s late. You are welcome to stay for as long as you wish, Bo.’

  ‘I have things to do on the other side of the city. But thank you,’ I add.

  ‘Where will you spend the day then?’

  ‘I’ll work something out.’ It occurs to me that I should have discussed salary with Michael while he was still here so I could pay for somewhere to stay. My own flat was disposed of by the efficient Montserrat recruitment team as soon as I signed on the dotted line. I shrug. I guess it gives me an excuse to seek him out again in
the next day or two.

  ‘Suit yourself.’ My grandfather’s eyes turn serious. ‘For what it’s worth, I apologise.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘If Elizabeth had done her job, you wouldn’t be in this predicament now.’

  I frown. ‘Elizabeth?’ Then I realise he means Beth. ‘It wasn’t her fault. There was nothing she could have done.’ I sigh. ‘There was nothing anyone could have done.’

  ‘Not even your Lord Montserrat?’

  I meet his gaze. ‘No,’ I say, telling the truth. ‘Not even him. The only person I can blame for my vampire state is me.’

  * * *

  I’ll have little time to sort out this Templeton mess before Arzo starts working with me and tracking my movements. He’s not stupid; he’ll soon realise I’m hiding something from him. I reluctantly put the enigma of neo-druids and feathers to one side and dig out Stephen Templeton’s scribbled list of suspects. The most likely culprit is the fake Kakos daemon. Apparently he’s the big shot behind Streets of Fire, the latest company to vie for internet domination. However, their offices encompass an entire building in the centre of the business district; they’ll be heavily guarded and there’s no way I can waltz up and knock on the door without preparing properly. I’ll do that before sundown tomorrow. Tonight I’ll focus on the Triads. Templeton told me he helped them with a money-laundering scam and skimmed cash off the top. The prat thought they wouldn’t notice.

  Unfortunately for me, Chinatown is located in Soho. After my humiliating trip there yesterday, the last thing I want to do is head back in that direction but it has to be done. Once I’m away from my grandfather’s quiet cul-de-sac, I flag down another taxi so I can return to the city. This time the driver is much more relaxed in my presence. I clock his name on his ID and lean forward. ‘Ray?’

  ‘Yes, little miss?’

  ‘Are you a cinema fan?’

  ‘Sure,’ he drawls. ‘I don’t get much chance to go, what with two little ones at home and the night shift. But I like a good action movie.’