Shadows & Dreams (Kate Kane: Paranormal Investigator)

by Hall, Alexis

  “They’ll know now,” he said. “Be ready.”

  We got on the next train northbound and rode all the way to High Barnet. At least we got a seat this time. We arrived, rinsed, and repeated. I stood against a pillar trying to look casual, while Jacob wandered around the platform, muttering and anointing shit.

  Then it was back on the Tube to King’s Cross, onto the Metropolitan line and out to Uxbridge. At this time of night, everyone was either at home or still in the pub so the trains were nearly empty. Without the noise of the crowd, the carriages were silent except for the metal heartbeat of the lines and the occasional rustle of an abandoned newspaper. Even at the best of times, other Tube travellers tend to look suspicious as all hell, but when you’re actively expecting to be attacked by vampires, they properly freak you out. I caught myself glaring at a pair of drunk seventeen-year-olds who were half-asleep on top of each other. And then a guy with a long coat got on, and it was all I could do to stop myself running him through on principle.

  We made it to Uxbridge at about ten. All the lights on the train slowly faded away, and it lay there beside the platform like a discarded snakeskin. Jacob got on with the ritual while I paced up and down impatiently. I’m not cut out to be a bodyguard.

  We swapped platforms and took the Piccadilly line to Acton Town, where we switched to District and stayed put until Upminster. We hit chucking out time hard, and the Tube filled up with chattering theatregoers, drinkers committed enough to stay ’til closing but not enough to go clubbing afterwards, and nice middle-class teenagers with generous curfews they didn’t dare break.

  I let myself relax just a little. A smart vampire wouldn’t attack in the middle of a crowd, and a crazy frenzied one wouldn’t be able to blend in. We repeated the whole shebang at Upminster. By now, I was almost hoping something would come for us. At least it’d give me something to do.

  Here lies Kate Kane. Killed by irony. Beloved daughter. Sorely missed.

  Then it was back on the train, back to Acton Town and back onto the Piccadilly line, this time bound for Heathrow.

  By the time we got there, everything had shut down except us. The train rushed through silent, empty stations. And when we reached our destination, it just waited for us to finish.

  “Are we nearly there yet?” I asked, as we got back on the Tube and started rattling back the way we’d come.

  “Shh.”

  I hadn’t even brought any boiled sweets.

  We changed to the Circle line at South Kensington and then to the DLR at Tower Hill. Trains were waiting for us on the platforms. It was a bit of a relief to get on the DLR. We were out of the tunnels, so I had something to look at that wasn’t cables and black walls. The city glittered gold behind us, and I remembered standing with Nim in the Dream. We used to do things like this all the time, back when we were together. Suddenly I missed it. Then I realised I hadn’t dreamed about her for a couple of nights. And I missed that too.

  It was nearly two in the morning by the time we were done at Woolwich Arsenal and heading back to King’s Cross. As we pulled into the station, the automated voice echoed eerily through the carriage: “This is King’s Cross St. Pancras. This train terminates here.”

  I guess that meant we were done.

  We got out and Jacob led me up the frozen escalator to the ticket offices and the barriers. “Now for the hard bit.”

  I stifled a yawn. “Couldn’t we have done the hard bit six hours ago?”

  Jacob knelt down and began scrawling an actual pentagram on the ground with the stuff in his Tupperware box.

  And that was when the vampires attacked.

  There were three of them, all dressed in slightly old-fashioned, charcoal-grey suits. If psycho vampire enforcers had a uniform, that would be it. I’d been expecting a pack of frenzied Morrígan mooks half-crazed with bloodlust, but these guys were clearly pros, and I had no idea who they were or where they’d come from. They came in slowly, covering all the exits and I realised I was thoroughly flanked. I’d been ready to be outnumbered, not outmanoeuvred.

  I tried to buy some time by engaging them in witty banter.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Old friends, Miss Kane,” replied one of them.

  I stared. She was an icy blonde in glasses, with her hair scraped into an aggressive knot. She looked a bit familiar, but I couldn’t think from where. I was pretty certain we weren’t friends.

  I heard the tap-tap of posh shoes on tiles and a fourth vampire walked calmly in from the street. He wore a navy pinstriped suit under an ankle-length wool coat. He appeared to be in his late forties, with a mane of wavy, brown hair, an actual wizard goatee, and a smug predatory look.

  His name was Henry Percy, and the fucker had kidnapped me before.

  “My, my,” he purred. “How you’ve grown. It seems like only yesterday your oh-so-zealous lover was carrying you away in his arms.”

  I groped for a suitable comeback. “What the shit are you doing here?”

  He gave me a tigerish smile. “Your friend is attempting to annihilate my bloodline. I t-take that rather personally.”

  “Why didn’t you just get out of town?”

  “You are interfering in matters that do not concern you.”

  “Actually, I’m pretty fucking concerned. Last time we met, you tried to sacrifice me, and I still have no idea why.”

  “Tragically, you will never f-find out.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Kill them.”

  Two of the vampires swooped towards us. I summoned my mother’s power. It came easily, and I felt it rush through me like a river in flood. I caught the scent of the Deepwild. I brought my sword up, still in the bin liner, and rammed it through one of my attackers. I just had time to see the look of surprise on his face before he withered to dust in front of me.

  My mother laughed.

  “Interesting,” said Henry Percy.

  It had given the blonde pause for thought, so I spun round to see if Jacob had been eaten yet. The other vampire had carried him all the way across the station and pinned him against the wall.

  I smelled fresh blood, but it hadn’t ripped his throat out yet, which meant he was probably protecting himself somehow.

  I started running, pulling the tatters of the bin liner off my sword as I went. Blue fire exploded at my feet and licked up my legs. I was probably going to feel that when the faery magic wore off.

  Being a Tube station, there was virtually no cover, so I threw myself down behind the ticket barriers. Another fireball whoomphed into the metal.

  Like the man said: interesting.

  After a second or two, I poked my head up. The blonde was standing in the middle of the empty station with pale blue flames coiling round her fingers and gathering in the palm of her hands. I was pretty sure that was cheating.

  A tongue of fire lashed out towards me, and I quickly ducked. I know how to deal with vampires. I know how to deal with wizards. But vampire wizards are just taking the piss. I was going to have to rush her, but even at faery speed, I’d still get a fireball in the face. And then have to fight a vampire.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jacob come forward. The vampire he’d been struggling with was lying rigid on the floor, dead or at least out of it. The blonde spun on her heels and sprayed blue fire in his general direction. He raised a hand. The flames billowed around him, and he kept walking.

  I reckoned it would take the vampire about two seconds to realise the pyrotechnics weren’t cutting it. I vaulted over the barrier and charged. What happened next was a blur even with my mother’s senses. I caught a flash of blue heading towards my face, and I felt rather than saw a rush of motion as Henry Percy shot past me. But I didn’t really have time to worry about that because the blonde was all up in my grill. That, and my hair was on fire.

  She tried to pull away so she could carry on pelting me. But I caught her by the arm and brought my sword level with her chest. Her other hand flared blue and slashed at my face. So I stab
bed her. She slumped to her knees and withered to dust.

  I wasn’t so great myself. My face was bleeding badly, and even with my mother’s power, I felt weak. I dragged myself round, just in time to see Henry Percy sink his fangs into Jacob’s neck.

  I’d been right. I made a shitty bodyguard.

  Jacob had his eyes closed. He looked pretty together for someone having his blood sucked out. He reached up and brushed his fingers over the vampire’s face, leaving a trail of blood and ashes. Percy hissed, hurled Jacob to the ground, and leapt away like a cat from a garden sprinkler.

  Well, this had been a clusterfuck. I had no idea if we were winning or not but I readied my sword, mustered what was left of my strength and attacked.

  I hadn’t exactly been waiting for this for fifteen years, but I was damn well going to make it count.

  As soon as I got close, something heavy and invisible knocked me flying. I crashed into the far wall of the station and dropped, winded, to the floor.

  Great. Now I was fighting a fucking Jedi.

  Henry Percy sauntered over, heels clicking, coat swishing. Whatever Jacob had done had really messed up his face. The skin was greying and peeling across one cheek, and his left eye was covered by a milky film.

  I pushed myself to my feet and thrust my blade towards him. I felt of wave of pressure hit me from the side, and I went down again, my weapon clattering onto the ground.

  He stared down at me. “It has been a p-pleasure meeting you again, Miss Kane.” Then he bent and picked up the sword. “I think I should take this for your own safety. Children should not be p-permitted to run around with sharp objects.”

  “Fuck you, Percy.”

  He arched a brow. “A raconteur as well. I b-bid you good evening, Miss Kane.”

  And with that, the patronising bastard fucked off.

  The last of my mother’s power faded, and I was suddenly very aware that I was bruised and bleeding on the floor of King’s Cross Station at half past two in the morning. Very, very slowly, I hauled myself upright.

  In the ruins of his pentagram, Jacob stirred and sat up.

  “That could gone have better,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “Sorry.”

  He shook his head. “I wasn’t expecting a sorcerer.” He was quiet a moment. “They seemed to know you.”

  “It’s a long story. Can we finish the ritual?”

  “A mage isn’t much use against a vampire who’s tasted their blood.” He pushed himself to his feet. Apart from the wound on his neck, he looked basically okay.

  “I thought he was going to kill you.”

  “He knew what he was doing. If he’d killed me, I’d have death-cursed him to shit.”

  “What do we do now?”

  He shrugged. “Do you need a lift home?”

  Snow was slanting silver outside the windows of an empty train. The dark folded thick around us. Nimue sat by my side, looking out at the Dream of the city. She was tired. She was resting her head on my shoulder, her curls spilling down my arm.

  “It didn’t work,” I said.

  “I know.”

  “I couldn’t stop them. He took the sword.”

  Nimue slipped her hand into mine. She was cold. “It will find you again.”

  “How’s Jacob?”

  “Angry with himself but unharmed. His power is rooted in the dead. If he hadn’t been focused on the ritual, the vampires would have been no threat.”

  “I should have stopped them.”

  “You’ve never faced corpsefire before. It weakened you. If you were fully human, you’d be dead.”

  There was a long silence. I was tired too. I leaned into Nimue. The snow swirled, mixed with feathers.

  “Jacob said they knew you.”

  “Remember those guys who kidnapped me when I was seventeen? It was them. They’re led by this psycho wizard vampire called Henry Percy. He said he’d come to stop us wiping out his bloodline, but I don’t know. He could’ve just left town. It’s just . . . I don’t know. It doesn’t add up but I can’t think right now.”

  “You’re asleep, Kate.”

  “It’s bugging me.”

  “Think about it in the morning. Rest now.” Her lips brushed against my cheek, softer than the snow.

  “What’s next?” I asked.

  “I’ll keep fighting her here. And I’m sending word to other courts. It makes me look weak, but this is bigger than London.”

  “The vampires are mucking in, now that they’ve stopped trying to chop my head off.”

  “If tonight’s anything to go by, it seems like they’re not all on board.”

  The darkness began to deepen, and the train came silently to a halt.

  “This is your stop, Kate.”

  I woke to the smell of fresh coffee and my own singed hair. Honestly, I felt pretty shitty. I lurched into the bathroom to catalogue the damage. Three long cuts ran down my cheek, part burn, part claw mark. Ow. I cleaned them up and showered the smoke out my hair, dressed, and staggered into the kitchen for my caffeine fix and the obligatory banana.

  I explained my new exciting injuries to Elise, and then we piled into the car, swung by the office to pick up the Corin file, and set off for Oxford. I pulled my hat over my face hoping to sneak another hour’s kip on the road, but Elise put paid to that when she cranked up the volume, popped out my trusty Leonard Cohen CD, and replaced it with some kind of German thrash metal.

  I pulled my hat down even further, but it was no use.

  “Elise,” I groaned. “What the shit is this?”

  “This, Miss Kane, is ‘Sehnsucht,’ the opening track of Rammstein’s 1997 album of the same name. The album is probably most famous for the fifth track, ‘Du Hast,’ the title of which is a play on the homophones hasst, meaning hate, and hast, meaning have.”

  “And you think this is appropriate music for half nine in the morning, why?”

  “I find the rhythms soothing. I would also remind you that the last time we were on an extended car journey you made me listen to ‘Diamonds in the Mine’ three times in a row.”

  “It’s a classic.”

  “It is an old man screaming into a microphone about the inefficiencies of the New York postal service.”

  Mercifully, after an hour, Elise let me change the CD. I thought about putting on Songs of Love and Hate just to spite her but decided that would be childish. I stuck on some Tom Waits and fell asleep.

  Elise woke me up a little while later.

  “Miss Kane,” she said, “these roads appear to be laid out most illogically. I attempted to take the shortest and most expeditious route to our destination only to find that I was not permitted to turn in the direction I intended. I have been driving in circles for some time now.”

  We blundered around for another thirty minutes, trying to navigate the one-way system and find a damn parking space. We eventually ditched the car near a boathouse and headed a few streets south to where Professor Fox lived. He had one of those big, gold, historical-looking houses tucked away on a leafy crescent north of the city centre. Time was, it would have been the poshest thing I’d ever seen, but since coming to London, I’ve been hanging out with millionaire vampires and werewolf aristocrats. Hell, Eve could have bought this place thirty times over and not even noticed. Still, it was a bit of a step-up from my two-bedroom flat on Muswell Hill.

  I climbed the steps and rang the doorbell. It was opened by a silver-haired man in a velvet smoking jacket. He had a slightly weather-beaten look and pale blue eyes glittering behind silver-rimmed spectacles. Basically, he was the kind of professor I’d have had a crush on at university. If I’d been straight. And if I’d gone to university.

  “Miss Kane, I presume?” he said. “And Miss Archer?”

  “Archer’s dead, this is Elise.”

  “I’m terribly sorry. Would like to come inside?”

  He led the way into a tastefully furnished living room, all wingback chairs and shelves full of those
old, leather-bound books that I’m pretty sure nobody actually reads.

  “Tea? Coffee? It’s a little early for anything stronger.”

  I went for coffee, and he disappeared into another room, returning a few minutes later carrying a tray. He settled himself into a chair and carefully laid out a cafetière, two cups, a jug of cream, a bowl of those rough-cut sugar cubes you get in fancy cafés, and a plate of those little Italian biscuit things.

  “So,” I said. “Break-in.”

  “Gracious me, how direct.”

  “It’s my job.”

  “No, no, I find it quite refreshing. I’ve been moving primarily in academic circles these past thirty years, where circumlocution is an art form.”

  “Can you tell me more about the things they took?”

  He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back with the air of a man about to blow my tiny mind. “That very much depends on you, Miss Kane. Tell me, do you consider yourself open to unusual ideas?”

  I bet he said that to all the girls. “Try me.”

  “You know, of course, that I am a collector, and I assume you know what it is that I collect.”

  Yep, he was one of those. I wanted to say you collect magical doodads that you probably don’t understand anywhere near as well as you think you do, but I didn’t think that would go down well.

  “Cultural artefacts?” I offered with my best oh please educate me look.

  “That is one way to describe it, but they are so much more than that. My collection houses items of real power.”

  “What kind of real power?” I asked dutifully.

  He poured cream into his coffee and took a sip. When he felt he’d built the tension enough, he looked me in the eyes and said, “The supernatural, Miss Kane.”

  There was a silence, and I realised that was my cue to be shocked. “Wow,” I replied, with as much sincerity as I could manage.

  “It is a little hard to encompass at first.”

  I bet he said that to all the girls as well. “So what was taken?”

  “A Hand of Glory and a demon’s skull. The Hand of Glory is a candle fashioned from the left hand of a hanged criminal. While it burns, its owner will not be seen by those he does not wish to see him.”