by Hall, Alexis
“I’m trying to track her, but they keep on the move. They’re sweeping the city systematically from the centre outwards. I’ve isolated twenty-six confirmed incidents so far.”
“Incidents of what?”
“What do you think? Werewolves eating people. Probably fledging vampires because the older, smarter ones have all gone to ground like you said.”
“And what about Tara?”
“I’ve run face recognition on a crap-tonne of footage, and she’s come up a bunch of times but never in the same place. I know where they’ve been, but I couldn’t put you within a mile of where they’re going.”
Maybe within a mile would be enough. I was pretty certain I could track a pack of wolves with my mother’s power, but if today was anything to go by, I wasn’t at all certain that if I went to the Deepwild again, I’d ever get out. “Don’t they have some kind of base?”
“There’s no evidence of one. They never backtrack. My best guess is they’re either staying on the streets or moving between safe houses. I could follow the money, but that’s going to take time, especially because werewolf property goes back for generations, so half the records will be on paper.”
“Thanks, anyway. It was always a long shot.”
If nothing else, I’d probably distracted the Morrígan for long enough that she wasn’t going to rip Tara’s head off anytime soon. And Julian was nowhere to be seen, which meant she was probably safer than I was, especially since I was wandering around with the thing the unstoppable vampire queen was tearing the city apart to find. In a funny way, it was quite liberating. I’d spent so long juggling all this complicated, political shit that it was nice to have my problems stripped back to staying alive. Assuming I could pull that off, I could probably sort out the Morrígan, and if I was lucky, that would sort out the werewolves as well. Then maybe the Council would leave town. And then maybe I could get five minutes with my girlfriend.
“Look,” said Eve. “I’ll keep working on it, and if anything comes up, I’ll let you know.”
“You remember you dismantled my phone, right?”
“I’ll get someone to give you one before you leave.”
“Okay, thanks.” There was an awkward silence. “And, you know, sorry about your arm and, like, everything.”
“It’s fine. It’s just that . . .” She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Nothing.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Or maybe there were lots of things I wanted to say, and I didn’t know how to say any of them. I stared at the pot instead. “Have you got any bubble wrap?”
They gave me a phone that was flashier than either of the ones I’d lost this week, helped me wrap my urn, and arranged for a car to take me wherever I needed to go. Which was a bit of a problem, because I didn’t know where that was.
The only person I could think of who’d last more than ten seconds if the Morrígan came calling was Nim, but I’d lost her number and the number of Rachel’s call centre with my other phone, and I didn’t have time to do the ritual that would have put me in touch with her. I’d been to dinner at Gabriel’s years ago, but the guy had three kids—there was no way I was dropping in unannounced with a vase full of murder. I had no idea where Jacob hung out, and it probably involved dead people or trains, but I was pretty sure I knew how to get to Michelle. There was a lesbian metal bar near Clapham Junction called the Duchess of Malfi, and last I’d checked, she was using it as her unofficial HQ.
The car dropped me off at St. John’s Hill, and I casually carried my enormous bundle of crockery up the road and into a pub. It was just as dark, noisy, and full of lesbians as I remembered. It smelled of leather, sweat, and beer, and they were playing something I thought was probably Judas Priest or Megadeth, or one of the other three metal bands I’d heard of.
Michelle was at the bar, fiddling with a Zippo, and nursing a shot of whiskey. I stuck my pot on a spare stool, leaned over, and bellowed in her ear that I was looking for Nim.
Michelle shrugged. “So call her.”
“Lost her number.”
She gave me a look that said you suck, tossed back her drink, and took me outside. She dug out a battered packet of Marlboro Reds and offered me one. I wasn’t sure it was the time, but I never say no to free fags. We lit up.
“What’s up?”
“I’ve got the thing the Morrígan’s looking for, and she’s already come after it once.”
Michelle took a drag on the cigarette and blew the smoke into the flame of her lighter, where it gathered in a hazy spiral. She whispered Nim’s calling name, and then said: “Kate’s got something for you. We’re at the Duchess.”
She snapped the lighter closed and leaned back against the wall to finish the cigarette.
I did the same. It was that or try to make conversation.
I quite liked Michelle. I thought we probably had a lot in common. Unfortunately, one of those things was being shit in social situations.
Just as I was stamping out the stub, a black cab pulled up and Nim got out. She looked like she hadn’t slept properly in days, which was probably true. I kind of wanted to give her a hug and smooth the tangles from her hair, but I couldn’t do that in front of Michelle. Also, girlfriend.
“What did you do, Kate?” she asked.
“Can you narrow it down a bit?”
“Something hurt the Morrígan. Something hurt her badly.”
“Yeah, that was kind of my mum. I think it’s probably temporary, but I’ve got her pot. She tried to kill me to get it back, but it didn’t take.”
Michelle lit up another cigarette. “How does that help us?”
“I’m fuzzy on the details, but like, blah-hundred years ago she agreed to go away in exchange for this thing, but I think the Council had to convince her she couldn’t just take it from them first.”
Nim reached out and took the pot. She peeled away the bubblewrap and ran her fingers gently over the cracked surface beneath.
“Um, just so you know, this thing was in a magic circle that stopped her tracking it. And now it, well, isn’t.”
“This is my city, Kate. If I don’t want something found, it won’t be found.”
“I was kind of hoping you’d say that.” Otherwise I’d just got us all killed. I guess I could cross Find the thing off my to-do list. That just left Use the thing to defeat the Morrígan, and I had no clue how to get from one to the other. “So, is this it? Can you beat her now?”
“I don’t know. But this has power over her. I can feel it.”
“Julian said it was buried with the Morrígan five thousand years ago. It’s the only thing she actually wants. But I’ve no idea how we, y’know, use it.”
She met my eyes over the rim of the pot. “I’ll confront her in the Dream and tell her we have what she seeks.”
“And that’ll work, will it?”
“It’ll help. It’s a question of sovereignty. Right now, I have something she wants, and I will give it back to her if she relinquishes her claim on my city. We’ve been fighting each other to a standstill for a while now, and I get the sense she’s lashing out because it’s all she can do.”
This was kind of above my pay grade. “Do you need me for anything?”
“This will go better without the interference of the Council or the wolves.”
“They’re not going to listen to me. We’ll just have to hope they keep each other busy.”
Nim gave me one of her mysterious smiles. “You have more influence than you think.”
“I’ll keep an eye on things, but I can’t make any promises. Call me if you need anything. Shit, I’ve got a new mobile number.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
“Oh, yeah, magic.”
Nim carefully put the pot into the back of her taxi and climbed in after it. I waved her off. I was pretty sure I’d done the right thing, probably the only thing, but part of me was still afraid I’d just given my ex-girlfriend the box from Kiss Me Deadly.
“We done?”
asked Michelle.
“Um, I guess so.”
“Later.”
She went back into the bar, and I headed for the Tube.
It was close to midnight by the time I got home. Elise was sitting in the middle of the living room, building one of her model airplanes. I gave her my new number, filled her in on the situation, left her to it, and went to bed, too tired from all the breaking, entering, and being possessed to even think about making a cup of Bovril.
I really needed a rest, but I sort of hoped I’d see Nim in my dreams.
I didn’t.
An unfamiliar ringtone jerked me awake. It took me a few bleary moments to realise it was probably mine. I groped for it, trying not to look at the time as I answered with a grunt.
“I’ve got something.” Eve’s voice.
I grunted again.
“Wow, you really suck at this rapid-response stuff.”
“I’m awake, I’m awake; what’s going on?”
“I think I’ve got a hit on Tara.”
I woke up more. “Where?”
“Heading towards Aldgate.”
“Any idea what she’s tracking?”
“I’m only getting one vampire in the area. At St. Botolph’s.”
Weird. The last time I’d been there, I’d gone to talk sewers with a giant rat gestalt. I really hoped the rats weren’t taking sides in this as well because that would get really icky really quickly. “Thanks.” I was about to hang up but then I thought of something. “Hang on, have you been up all night?”
“That’s the magic of Penguin Mints.”
“Eve, you need to rest.”
“Sleep’s for the weak. Besides, I’d have been raiding anyway if my arm was up to it.”
“Seriously, go to bed.”
She laughed and hung up.
I crawled out of the covers, dragged some clothes on, and staggered into the front room.
Elise’s model plane was looking about four hours better than when I’d come in.
“Miss Kane, I cannot help but notice that you have awoken far earlier than is customary or healthy for you.”
“Got to get to Aldgate. Shit’s kicking off. Maybe.”
“In which case, I believe I should drive the vehicle as driver fatigue is reckoned to be a contributing factor in twenty percent of road accidents.”
Elise was so concerned for my health that she laid off the Rammstein so I could sleep in the car.
She woke me up when we arrived at St. Botolph’s. It was pretty much as I remembered—a jarringly old-fashioned church-with-spire stuck in the middle of the financial district. Just up the road, the predawn light glittered on the Gherkin. The doors of St. Botolph’s stood open. Most churches go out of their way to be welcoming, but five in the morning is pushing it even for Jesus.
We ditched the car illegally just outside and went in.
There was a bit of a party going on. Tara, Henry, and a bunch of werewolves were bunging up the nave, face-to-face with Caradoc and a couple of his goons. Caradoc was mid-grandstand, declaiming something about ancient rights and honoured bargains. I’m pretty sure some of it was even in Latin.
Edmund Carew, Voice of the Multitude, was up by the altar, looking down with that scary peaceful expression that said I’m totally not a giant swarm of rats in a person suit. Although the rodents teeming round his feet might have been a giveaway.
He smiled at us as we came, and Elise waved cheerfully.
Everyone else ignored us, and I wondered how best to force myself into whatever was going on so I could tell Tara to back down. Because that always worked so well. We slipped down one of the aisles, trying to get into a good position to interrupt.
Eventually Caradoc paused for I would have said breath, but vampire, so I guess it was dramatic effect.
Tara curled her lip. It wasn’t quite a snarl, but it wasn’t quite anything else. Her eyes glowed wolf amber in the half-lit church. “I’m losing patience, yah. What’s this about?”
“Your invasion,” Caradoc went on, “is justified in terms of the Compact sealed between our two peoples in the dying days of the seventeenth century. By the terms of that same Compact, I seek to end your aggression this very night.”
One of Tara’s stiletto heels tapped against the flagstones. “You’re so still wasting my time.”
“As Prince of Swords, it is my right to stand in the stead of my people and to resolve by single combat any charge laid against them.”
Well, that was news. With everything that was going on, I was surprised the Council had found time to appoint him.
Tara stopped tapping, and the silence felt heavy somehow. “You’re challenging me?”
Carew cleared his throat in that polite Church of England way. “By the terms of the Compact, it is not a challenge until the words are spoken.” His voice was soft, but beneath it was the echoing chorus of the Multitude.
Elise leaned over to me. “He is such a nice gentleman,” she whispered.
Caradoc nodded gravely. He was standing with his hands folded on the pommel of Aeglica’s sword, looking a hell of a lot like a statue on a tomb and a lot better than the last time I’d seen him. “I, Sir Caradoc of Gwent, challenge you, Tara Vane-Tempest, Marchioness of Safernoc, to single combat for the right to wage war against the vampires of London.”
Tara’s eyes swept contemptuously over him, and she smiled, well, wolfishly. “Yah, darling. Bring it on.”
“As the challenged party,” came the many voices of the Multitude, “the Marchioness of Safernoc may choose the location of the duel.”
“Wherever you like, pretty-boy.”
I’ll say this for Caradoc, he didn’t rise to insults. “The car park beneath Hyde Park at dusk. It is a large place that will give vantage to neither party, and I can arrange for it to be cleared of innocents and witnesses.”
Typical. Driving in London is bad enough without bloody vampires closing down the car parks. And I was sort of starting to feel I’d missed the boat here. I’d been waiting for the right moment to fix this mess and now it seemed like there was a whole new one. On the plus side, it looked like the werewolves would be going from attacking all the vampires to attacking one vampire. Which probably counted as progress.
“I accept your terms.”
Caradoc bowed like he meant it and stalked out. And I guess that was my cue.
I stepped out the shadows. “Uh, hi.”
Tara didn’t even turn. She’d probably known I was there all along. She had a creepy habit of smelling me. “Didn’t I lock you up, Kate Kane?”
“It didn’t stick.”
She prowled towards me across the church floor. Despite the fact she was running some kind of psycho slaughter-thon, she still looked like she was on her way to a film premiere. “I hope you’re not here to tell me my business again.”
“Funny story . . .”
She sighed and gave me a glare that was almost affectionate. “Do you never learn?”
“I found the thing the Morrígan’s after, so you can call off your dogs.” Shit. “I mean, like, metaphorically.”
“Oh, you’ve taken care of it, have you?”
With hindsight, expecting Tara Vane-Tempest to turn round and say Splendid, there’s nothing left for us to do, let’s all go home and have crumpets had been a bit optimistic. “Well, kind of. I think I can get her to go back to sleep.”
“And what will you do about the hundred or so fledgling vampires she unleashed onto the streets of London?”
“That’s the Council’s problem.”
“The Council had the opportunity to contain the situation. They failed.”
“You didn’t give them much of a chance.”
“Has it ever occurred to you, Kate Kane, that your priorities are not as they should be?” She watched me steadily. “Every day I was, as you put it, giving the Council a chance, people were dying.”
Bugger. Tara had a point. But there was no way I was admitting it. “I get that, but as far a
s solutions go, ‘kill all the vampires’ is just a bit genocide-y and will probably start a war, which last time I checked, is not a good way to save lives.”
“Do what you must, as will I.”
“But you don’t have to do this.”
“A challenge has been issued. I cannot withdraw.”
“So, what, you’re going to fight Caradoc for your right to kill everybody?”
“I am going to fight Caradoc for the right to do my duty.” She was in front of me, close enough to run her perfectly manicured fingertips through the white streak in my hair. “And, just think, Kate Kane, if I lose, all your problems will be over.”
I caught her by the wrist. I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to be pushing her away or pulling her closer. “Look, I know you shacked up with the woman who murdered my partner, locked me in a dungeon, and are making my life really difficult right now, but I don’t actually want you to get killed.”
Her eyes gleamed. “So you do care.”
“Yes, yes, our relationship has reached that very special not-actively-wishing-you-dead stage. I’ll send you flowers later.”
Well, I’d given it my best shot, and it had gone about as well as it always did, but at least this time, I hadn’t got chained up or nearly killed.
Elise and I piled back in the car and went for home. I shuffled down in my seat, wondering if I could catch twenty minutes sleep.
“That was most interesting, Miss Kane. I have never before been privy to an incitement to ritual combat.”
“Next time I’ll bring popcorn.”
“I confess the experience has left me uncertain as to our next course of action.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Am I correct in identifying that as an idiomatic interjection and not as a genuine request for further information?”
“It’s six in the morning, I’ve had four hours sleep, idiomatic interjection is about all I’m capable of right now. Basically I think we have to wait this one out.” I yawned. “Knowing vampires and werewolves and rituals, half the major players will probably turn up at this thing tomorrow.”