Iron & Velvet (Kate Kane, Paranormal Investigator #1)

by Alexis Hall

  “They don’t have time, but they don’t like it when you take the piss. Faery realms take everything personally.”

  He nodded and eased himself painfully out of the booth. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  “As will I, Katharine.” I didn’t even look at Patrick.

  Great, so it was me, my dickhead ex, and a celibate incubus. Not so much the Magnificent Seven as the Barely Adequate Three.

  I pulled out my phone and called Kauri.

  “Hello?” He answered just when I was about to hang up.

  “Hi, how would you like to come rescue Julian and/or avenge your dead boyfriend?”

  There was a long silence.

  “Sorry, who is this?”

  “It’s Kate,” I said. “Kate Kane.”

  “Okay, that’s a lot less spooky. But didn’t they already catch the killer?”

  Fuck, this poor guy was way out the loop. I took a deep breath.

  “Long story short: So Andrew was killed by a bloodsucking faery creature, which I thought had been summoned by some kind of sorcerer, and then when I told the mages about it, one of them—who was also Julian’s ex-girlfriend—tried to kill Julian in self-defence by summoning a different bloodsucking monster. But then yet another monster killed somebody else after that mage had already been dealt with, so then it turned out that when Julian was alive, she chopped up a faery lord and threw him down a well, and he’s the one who’s been sending the things that have been killing the people.” Okay, that wasn’t particularly short.

  There was another long silence.

  “Was I meant to understand any of that?”

  “Big bad faery shit lord killed your boyfriend and captured your vampire granny. A bunch of us are getting together to fuck it up. Do you want in?”

  “Flats or heels?”

  “Waders,” I said. “He’s down a sewer.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Afraid not. We’re meeting at the Sessions House in Clerkenwell at eleven thirty tomorrow night . . . er. . . I mean tonight, technically.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  So that made it me, my dickhead ex, a celibate incubus, and the most fabulous man in fangs.

  I called a cab and headed for Holland Park. Aeglica’s place looked way spookier at half three in the morning. I hauled myself over the wall and landed slightly painfully in the rose garden. Shoving my way through the overgrown briars, I found Aeglica and Mercy sitting at a stone table, playing chess in the uncertain moonlight. Mercy had put back her veil, and tendrils of weed-green hair were spilling over her shoulders. Her chin rested on one black-taloned hand as she contemplated the board with what I thought was a faint smile. She moved a piece.

  “Check. And you seem to have a guest.”

  “What is it this time, Miss Kane?” Aeglica asked.

  Mercy turned towards me. She looked like the Phantom of the Opera without his good side. But there was something familiar about her eyes.

  “Julian’s been kidnapped.”

  “What happened?” He slowly rose to his feet.

  I gave him the short version.

  He nodded, turned, and walked away.

  “Um,” I said, “we were heading out tonight.”

  He paused. “I must go.”

  “Just so you know,” I told him, “if you go now, you’ll be swimming through a river of shit.”

  “That does not matter.”

  I’d kind of been hoping to get the bulletproof Geat to come with us, but it looked like there was no Aeglica in team.

  “It will soon be dawn.” I really hadn’t expected Mercy to bail me out.

  Aeglica turned his head back towards us. “The Council has been attacked. I must retaliate.”

  Mercy glided across the grass and took his arm with surprising gentleness for a scary monster. Aeglica looked down at her. “It is unwise to strike,” she murmured, “when you are weak and your enemy is not. Besides, we have yet to finish our game.” She slipped her clawed hand into his and led him back to the table.

  “We’re meeting at eleven thirty in Clerkenwell.” And with that, I left them to it.

  Me, my dickhead ex, a celibate incubus, the most fabulous man in fangs, and an indestructible Geat. Things were looking better than they had an hour ago, but I was now officially out of ideas. It felt pretty callous to just go home and go to bed, but I would have felt even worse if I got my girlfriend killed because I’d pulled an all-nighter.

  I got home at five, feeling shitty. I ate a banana, which didn’t help. Elise was sitting in the middle of the floor with the bits of my washing machine spread around her. I couldn’t tell if the whole scene looked like something out of the Tate Modern or something off a really specific fetish site.

  “This device has not been well cared for,” she said. “It is sad.”

  “I’m not sure washing machines get sad.”

  “I know. That is the problem.”

  I had too much shit going on to worry about the emotional well-being of my washing machine. I went to bed.

  I woke up about three hours later to the smell of fresh coffee and the realisation that my girlfriend had been captured by an amoral, immortal monster. It had not been a good day so far, and it had the potential to get a lot worse. I lay there moping for a while and, finally, Elise came in with a cup of coffee.

  “Are you quite well, Miss Kane?”

  “I’m sad, Elise, like a washing machine.”

  “The washing machine is feeling better now. What are you sad about?”

  I told her what had happened. To my surprise, she bent over and hugged me. I was prepared to be totally freaked out, but it was kind of nice. Like a teddy bear, only more attractive.

  “Uh, thanks.”

  “Do you wish me to come with you to rescue Miss Julian?”

  “Wouldn’t you . . . maybe . . . sink?”

  “Most probably. But since I have no need to breathe, it would prove only a minor inconvenience.”

  “It’s really not nice down there. I promised the Multitude I’d look after you, and who’s going to care for the devices if I get killed? I’d appreciate a ride though.”

  “As you wish, Miss Kane. I enjoy the car.”

  I had a shower, which woke me up largely because it really hurt. I was, once again, covered in sexy wounds. There were tiny stinging glass cuts running up my arms, and sucker marks all over my face. And that on top of the white streak in my hair and the stitches in my thigh. I was wrecked.

  Operation Rescue Julian wasn’t looking that great either. Somehow the eight-hundred-year-old sex vampire didn’t have many friends. That just left rivals and enemies. More specifically, it meant Tara and Nim. I was pretty sure Tara didn’t actually hate Julian, and I had no idea how she felt about me, or at least about the parts of me above the waist, but technically cleaning up psycho faeries was her goddamn job. As for Nim, I’d had a pretty eventful love life, but I’d never had my girlfriend literally try to kill my ex over a misunderstanding about a murder. So that could really go either way. I’d known Nim for a long time, and I really hoped I hadn’t fucked everything up too badly.

  Of the two, Tara seemed like the safer bet, so, as soon as I’d towelled off, I checked her Twitter feed. Tallyho darlings. Opening match of the Autumn Nations. Cheer us on #awooo.

  I had no idea what any of that meant, so I asked Google. It turned out the Autumn Nations was a polo tournament held somewhere in Surrey. That did not bode well. Yes, my plans for the evening included infiltrating the kingdom of a deranged faery lord, but I didn’t have a clue how to get into a polo match. Either way, I wasn’t going to make any progress sitting on my arse.

  I took my press pass and a banana, cranked up my car, and drove to Surrey. On the way, I flipped through my CDs, looking for something to take my mind off the fact that I was going to a polo match while my girlfriend was chained up in a sewer. If she wasn’t already dead. But all I had was Songs of Love and Hate, The Bends, Scott 4, and Bone Machine.
Wow, I’d be awesome on a road trip. In the end, I stuck on “Famous Blue Raincoat” and consoled myself with the thought that, no matter how bad things got, at least I wasn’t Leonard Cohen.

  After a while, streets gave way to woodland and I came to one of those car parks that’s basically a field. A field they were trying to charge me twenty quid to park in. So I found my own field and stuck my car in it for free. As far as I could make out, a polo club was basically one big posh building and a lot of grass. The clubhouse had a serious not for the likes of you vibe, so I hopped a fence. There was a match going on. At least, I assumed it was a match. There were a lot of horses running around and people waving sticks. There was a fairly thin crowd, mainly bright young things with nothing better to do, drinking champagne and having picnics.

  I snuck onto the fringes. The most effective way to look like you belong somewhere is to just do what everybody else is doing, which in this case meant watching polo. I had no idea what was going on. They call it the sport of kings. Probably because at your average comprehensive school you don’t get “horse” as part of your PE kit.

  It was fairly easy to pick Tara out. She was charging up and down the field with her golden hair streaming behind her. I hated to admit it, but some people are born to wear tight white trousers and knee-high boots. Ngh.

  The game went on for about two hours. People hit balls to places. Occasionally they would go other places, and people would cheer. This is my experience of all sport ever. Afterwards, Tara’s team looked happy, so I guessed they won. Awooo. I followed them round the perimeter, hopping a few more fences, to the horsey bit where they kept the horses. There were a couple of guys hanging around here, some kind of specially designated Horse Guardians or something, who didn’t look like they’d be happy to let me go waltzing in.

  I ran through my options. Let me through, I’m a faery princess? Stand aside, there’s a slim chance that woman over there wants to fuck me? Surprise horse inspection? I went with my old fallback.

  I waved my press pass. “Horse & Hound.”

  They looked at me like I was mad.

  At that moment, Tara walked by with a bucket of water. I waved hopefully.

  “How do you keep tracking me down, Kate Kane?” she purred.

  “Because you keep tweeting where you are.”

  She looked thoughtful. “Oh, yah. Silly of me.”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Well, come through, I need to take care of Trumper.”

  She was either talking about her horse or a member of her immediate family.

  They let me through into the horsey bit where they kept the horses. There were horses here, many of them smelly. But I’d spent last night in a sewer, so I wasn’t complaining.

  “Have you met Tuffie and Smudge?” She gestured to a couple of girls I vaguely recognised from the funeral. I nodded a hi in their direction. “And you know Hal, yah?”

  Henry was rubbing down his mount.

  “Uh, well played, by the way.” I gave a thumbs up and then immediately regretted it. “I thought the um . . . well played.”

  He looked round with a grin. “You don’t know anything about polo, do you?”

  I shrugged. “Horses and balls?”

  “That’s pretty much it, actually.”

  “The things you people do for fun.”

  Tara passed her horse to a groom, put one foot up on a hay bale, and rested a hand on her knee. “So what can I do for you, Kate Kane?”

  “There’s a faery loose under Clerkenwell. One of his minions killed your cousin.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I met it and killed it back. And I have a souvenir.” I pointed at my face. “Same marks.”

  “What makes you think it had a master?”

  I took a deep breath, hoping Tara wasn’t going to be a dick about this. “Because I was there when he took Julian.”

  Tara was a dick about it. “So this is about her.”

  “No, it’s about your sacred duty to defend this world.”

  Her eyes bled to amber. “Do not speak of things you know nothing about. It is not my duty to rescue your girlfriend when she can’t look after herself.”

  I wanted to tell her to stop being so fucking petty, but talking to her like that in front of her pack would have been kind of douchey. And I would have lost any chance of getting her onside.

  “Look,” I tried instead, “I’m asking for your help.”

  She tucked the streak of white hair behind my ear. “I can’t help you, Kate Kane.”

  Well, fuck.

  “I will not risk my people to rescue a vampire,” she continued. “That’s a matter for the Council. If this creature strays onto the surface, we will hunt it, but I will not take my pack into its realm.”

  “There’s a bunch of us going down there tonight. We just need support.”

  To my surprise, Henry came out from behind his horse and spoke to Tara. “I’ll go. With your leave. It would be a gesture of goodwill towards the Council. And a chance to avenge our cousin.”

  “If that’s what you want.” Her voice softened. “But remember, you’re not expendable.”

  He smiled. “I’ll be careful.”

  “When are you ever careful?”

  “Then I’ll hope to be lucky.”

  I felt a bit shitty busting up the family bonding. “We’re meeting at eleven thirty at the Sessions House.”

  Henry nodded. “See you there.”

  Me, my dickhead ex, a celibate incubus, the most fabulous man in fangs, an indestructible Geat, and a shape-shifting toff. The King of the Court of Love wouldn’t know what hit him.

  That just left Nimue. Assuming she’d see me at all.

  I got back to London in early evening because I stopped on my way home for a burger. Kate cannot live by banana alone. I took the Tube to Waterloo and did the ritual again. It led me in circles for a while before bringing me back to the Millennium Bridge just as the sun was setting. I climbed the steps and started walking until I came to Nimue. She was standing in the middle of the bridge, with the crowds parting round her like waves round an island. She was wearing a shimmering silver dress that faded into coils of mist as it touched the ground. Her hair was gathered beneath a net of shining thread and tiny pearls.

  “You’ve got some nerve.”

  I’m crap at apologising, even when I mean it. Especially when I mean it. “I fucked up.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Is everybody okay?”

  Her eyes met mine, as cold and dark as the river. “Do you mean how many of my people were killed by your vampire lover?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Too many.”

  I tried again. “I fucked up.”

  “You’ve already said that.”

  I ran my hands anxiously through my hair. This wasn’t going well. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  “Neither do I.”

  There was a long silence.

  “It was a faery lord.”

  Nimue folded her arms. “What’s that to me? What do you want, Kate?”

  “It’s taken Julian.”

  The sky went suddenly dark and a wind came rushing up the Thames, beating the grey water into waves. Thunder rolled in the distance. “Tell me you’re not here for her.”

  “I’m here for me. I want her back. And I’m going to get her back, whatever it takes.”

  The wind stirred the mist at her feet into fantastical patterns that shifted and swirled like the water below. “What it takes might be more than you can pay.”

  “Then that’s how it’ll have to be.”

  “Is she really worth it, Kate?”

  I thought about it a moment. “Is anybody?”

  “Yes,” said Nimue.

  I needed Nim’s help, but there was no way she’d trust me while I was still an outsider. I took a deep breath. The spray from the river was cold against my face. “So how does this work?”

  She reached o
ut a hand, palm down. “Kneel.”

  “For serious?”

  “Are you?”

  “Can’t we skip that bit?” I asked.

  “Kneel.” She didn’t raise her voice, but when she spoke it cut through the wind and the noise of the crowd.

  I dropped to one knee in the middle of the Millennium Bridge, as the first few drops of rain landed on the backs of my hands.

  “Say the words.”

  I opened my mouth to say that I didn’t know what the words were, but, at that moment, they came to me. Like magic. Which, of course, it was.

  “I, Katharine Kane, do swear that I will well and truly serve my Sovereign Lady Nimue . . .”

  In the Deepwild, my mother screamed, the trees splintering with her fury. Her presence filled my mind like knives, and then her voice tore out of my throat. “This one is mine, you cannot hold her.”

  “You have no power here, huntress.” Nimue turned her hand sharply, and I felt my mother’s presence recoil. I could speak again. In the Deepwild, my mother raged.

  “And from this day forth,” I went on, “I shall commit to her my faith, my blood, and my life.”

  As soon as I finished speaking, I felt sick. I couldn’t breathe. The rain was suddenly warm against my skin. I closed my eyes against the panic, and then I was okay.

  Or sort of okay. Something had changed, but I couldn’t work out what it was. It was like remembering things you’d forgotten you’d forgotten. And even though I couldn’t see her, I knew Nimue was there, watching me, the raindrops sparkling on her hair and the tips of her lashes.

  “Rise.”

  And I did it without thinking.

  “What the fuck was that?”

  “A bond,” she explained. “I share a part of your strength, and you share a part of mine. And you will not betray me again.”

  “I didn’t mean to betray you the first time.”

  “I know.”

  “So what now?” I asked.

  “Come.”

  I followed her across the bridge to Bankside and down a set of water-worn stone stairs that were usually sealed off. There was a thin strip of mud and shingle left by the tide. The choppy water was brown, with a sheen of orange light from the city sloshing over the surface. Rain was gathering on the brim of my hat and seeping through the felt, but Nimue wore the rain like a shawl, droplets dusting her arms and shoulders like diamonds.