Shadows & Dreams (Kate Kane: Paranormal Investigator)

by Hall, Alexis

  “Will we be permitted to attend, Miss Kane?”

  “I don’t know about permitted, but I’m going anyway. It’s probably my best chance of seeing Julian. Plus for all I know, the Morrígan is going to show up and slaughter everyone.”

  Elise’s attention flicked my way for a moment. “Surely that is an argument in favour of, to use the colloquialism, staying out of it.”

  “How long have you known me, Elise?”

  “A little over three months, Miss Kane.”

  “In that admittedly short time, have I ever stayed out of anything?”

  When we got back to the flat, I confusedly ate half a banana because it felt like breakfast time, and then realised I could just go back to bed instead. I woke up after midday feeling approximately human, only to discover I had a couple of missed calls from Eve. I faffed a bit until I figured out how to use the phone, which was smarter and therefore more annoying than either of my old ones, and then rang her back.

  “Hi, Kate, we’ve made some progress on the papers.”

  “Did you actually sleep last night at all?”

  “Dude, do you want to hear about scary vampire rituals or my sleeping habits?”

  I sighed. “Rituals, please.”

  “Kaykay, this is some pretty hard-core hocus-pocus bullshit. I found a really seriously annotated copy of a ritual which translates roughly as The Ascent of the Discarded Stair.”

  “The what?”

  There was a silence.

  “Well, I don’t want you to panic, and obviously the translation’s uncertain, but I think he’s trying to become a god.”

  Great. Another one. I should have guessed. It’s basically number three on the deranged wizard checklist: get laid, get rich, achieve unlimited cosmic power. “I wouldn’t worry, Eve, people try this sort of thing all the time.”

  “Oh you just have to be Miss Seen It All Before, don’t you?”

  “I was trying to reassure you. I mean, what, did you want me to freak out and run around shouting ‘We’re all doomed’ like that bloke in Dad’s Army?”

  “Don’t piss on my first apocalypse.”

  “Sorry, Eve, this sort of thing usually doesn’t go anywhere. There are lots of powerful things out there that don’t like to share.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that this would only have a chance of working if every major supernatural creature in England was distracted by, for example, the awakening of a psychotic vampire queen?”

  Shit. “Look, we still don’t need to panic. These things are really hard. You have to get all kinds of weird stuff, and if you don’t do it exactly right, you blow your face off.”

  “He’s probably been planning this for five hundred years. I think we can assume he’s sussed the logistics.”

  “Okay, you’re right, I’ll put this on my list of things to worry about, right below getting my throat ripped out by the Morrígan. Have you figured out any details?”

  “Basically, as far as I can tell, being a god is like being in a really, really exclusive club. You can either inherit it, like the Egyptian pharaohs, get voted in like the Roman emperors, or kill someone and steal their membership card.”

  “So what’s Percy’s plan?”

  “He’s going after the throne of Apollo. There’s this two-part ritual, one at each solstice. In winter, which I guess is what he’s doing now, he has to get the Delphic oracle to proclaim him the God of the Sun. Then in summer, he has to mix the blood of a faery lord with something called the Tears of Hypnos, and this will allow him to transubstantiate into a divine form which, well, is sort of the sun.”

  In the spirit of continuing not to panic, I thought about it for a moment. “Look, let’s think about this rationally. Is it actually a problem if Henry Percy is the sun?”

  “It’ll probably transform a good chunk of England into his own personal kingdom entirely subject to his immortal will.”

  “Like a faery realm?” That was probably quite a big problem.

  “I’m not sure, but I think it’s basically the same thing. When you get right down to it, a god is just a powerful otherworldly being that people worship.”

  I guess I’d just figured out why Percy had tried to sacrifice me when I was seventeen, but it didn’t help me much now because I still had no idea what the deal was with the oracle. “What’s the deal with the oracle?” I asked. “Didn’t that go out with, like, Jesus?”

  “There’s nothing in the books, but there’s something in the letters. This chick who’s writing to him apparently used to be one, and wants it back. It’s something wibbly about sacred bloodlines. That’s all I’ve got, sorry.”

  Well, it was better than nothing. “It’s better than nothing,” I said.

  “You know the solstice is in two days, right?”

  “If I’m not dead by then, I’ll look into it.”

  “I’ll let you know if I find anything else.”

  “Thanks. You’ve been, um, yeah.” I hung up quickly.

  Huh. Guess that explained some of the whys, but it didn’t help much with the what-the-fuck-to-do-about-its. Part of me couldn’t help thinking that trying to become a god when you were already immortal was just a little bit cheeky. Part of me felt I should have had a sense of closure. I’d spent fifteen years not knowing why Henry Percy had tried to kill me, and now I did. But quite a lot of people have tried to kill me over the years, and honestly, it’d got to the point that I’d given up worrying about their motivations. As the saying goes, haters gonna try to sacrifice you.

  I was in that unsettled place where I didn’t technically have anything to do, unless you counted watching everything go to shit. The sensible, grown-up thing would be to go into the office and start working on actual paying cases. I’d been saving the world pro bono for about a week, and while I’m sure it made me a better person, it didn’t actually pay the bills. On the other hand, since there was even less guarantee than usual I was going to live through the next few days, making sure my electricity didn’t get cut off wasn’t exactly a priority.

  In the end, I compromised and spent the afternoon tying up loose ends. If you’re going to die, you might as well go neatly. I swung by Seven Dials and handed the feather from the Morrígan’s wing over to the Merchant of Dreams. They seemed a bit surprised that I’d actually managed to get one, but they thanked me politely and didn’t try to pull any faery bullshit. I was half-expecting to find out there was some kind of infuriating loophole that meant they got to lock me up in a tree forever, but apparently not.

  I spent what was left of the afternoon helping Elise with the invoicing and the other bits of admin I’d got really used to having her do for me. And then we set off to Hyde Park to gate-crash a duel.

  The car park was apparently Full which I suspected was a tangled web of lies. I drove down the ramp to the barriers, where there were a couple of Caradoc’s goons waiting with fuck off looks on their faces.

  I wound down the window. “Hi, you might remember me from that time you arrested me. Or that, um, other time you arrested me. I’m here for the fight.”

  “None are to be admitted.”

  “Oh, come on. Look, we can do this whole big thing where you try to keep me out and I sneak in the back and it’s a waste of everybody’s time, or you could just let me in right now.”

  “None are to be admitted.”

  “Your boss isn’t big on initiative, is he?”

  He glared.

  Elise glanced over. “Is it time for Plan B, Miss Kane?”

  “I guess so.”

  We sat there in silence for about twenty seconds.

  “Forgive me for asking, but what is the nature of Plan B?”

  “I’m hoping if we sit here for long enough, they’ll get bored and let us in.”

  There was a blare of horns as a limo glided down the ramp and got stuck behind us.

  I guess that was Plan B.

  One of Caradoc’s men rapped on the roof. “You will need to move.”

&nbs
p; “I can’t.”

  “I suppose you think you’ve been very clever.”

  “I told you this’d be easier if you’d just let me in.”

  In the rearview mirror I saw a door open, and Henry jumped out of the limo and came to investigate.

  “Ah,” he said, “what’s causing the holdup?”

  “A mortal is trying to breach the perimeter.”

  I waved.

  Henry peered into the car. He looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Oh, for God’s sake, you pointless minion, just let her through.”

  “I do not take orders from dogs.”

  “Look, it’s a very straightforward situation.” And then he punched him.

  The enforcer staggered back and then turned on Henry, fangs bared. It looked like the fight was starting early.

  There was a polite cough from inside the car park, and Thomas Pryce stepped into the light. “Is there a problem, gentlemen?”

  The mook scowled. “He attacked me.”

  Henry folded his arms haughtily. “Fellow was being unreasonable.”

  Pryce sighed and pressed the button to lift the barrier. I gunned my engine, ready to go.

  “Our orders were no mortals.”

  “I have found that if Miss Kane wants to be somewhere, keeping her out becomes expensive.”

  The goons backed off, Henry got back into the limo, and I drove inside. It was kind of the poshest car park ever: all gleaming white floors and bright lights. The company that ran it probably sold it as a bespoke parking solution or something. A bunch of vampires were standing around in the middle.

  I tucked my car into a corner where I was pretty sure it wouldn’t get wrecked in the fight. Even so, it was probably the classiest thing that had ever happened to it.

  The wolf mobile dropped Tara and the pack, before turning round and leaving. The vampires and werewolves formed themselves into a circle, kind of like when two kids used to fight in the playground at school.

  Elise and I put on our best totally meant to be here faces and walked right over there. It was a bit of a low turnout. Julian and Thomas were the only princes who’d bothered to turn up. And, of the Council, there was only al-Rashid and Diego.

  “I see you brought your cat’s-paw,” sneered Diego at Julian.

  “If that’s my girlfriend you’re talking about, she’s here of her own accord. As usual.” There was a puff of shadows from the far side of the circle, and Julian bamfed over. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  “Looking for you.”

  Julian insinuated herself between me and Elise, and took our arms like a very small Hugh Hefner. “Oh, how sweet. Did you miss me or am I just in mortal danger?”

  “Little from column A, little from column B.”

  Our impromptu threesome slotted into the circle between Thomas Pryce and al-Rashid. Tara and Caradoc were already in the middle, quietly sizing each other up.

  Then, I heard a strange scrabbling in the walls and rats came pouring out of the air vents. Their claws skittered on the floor as they rushed towards us, their bodies flowing into the shape of the skinny, floppy-haired emo kid I knew as Jack.

  “’Scuse me.” He squeezed his way into the circle and stood there, looking bashfully at his battered Converses.

  “Ah, who the hell are you?” demanded Tuffie or Smudge.

  “This one speaks for the Multitude.” The many-voices echoed through the empty car park.

  Tuffie or Smudge looked awkward. “Just checking. No offence, yah.”

  “S’alright.” Jack shoved his hands into the pockets of his oversized combats. “But, like, I’ve got to do the fight now.”

  Al-Rashid muttered something about this not being the way things were done in Istanbul.

  “So . . .” Jack blew his fringe out of his eyes. “You two are going to fight now, and if you win—” He nodded at Caradoc. “—like, the pack will go home and not bug you anymore. But if you win—” A nod for Tara. “—then they get to, like, kill you all or something. Only not like now. Like in a war or something.”

  Well, that had been less ritual-y than I’d expected.

  Jack trudged off to take his place in the circle. “So like . . . one two three go.”

  They went.

  Caradoc shot forwards and caught Tara by the throat before she had a chance to change. Tara jabbed the heel of her hand into his chin and raked her claws down his face. For a moment, I thought the guy was going to lose his eyes again. You’d think he’d want to invest in goggles or something.

  Caradoc twisted his head away and hurled Tara through the circle and across the car park. She slammed heavily into a pillar, shifting as she fell. She landed on four paws, tearing free of the tatters of her dress.

  It was probably wrong, but I found it kind of hot.

  Caradoc came forwards cautiously, trying to circle her. Tara dropped her belly to the ground, watching him through gleaming amber eyes. He charged and Tara lunged forwards, sinking her teeth into his leg. There was a sort of cracking noise, like when you’re jointing a chicken, and Caradoc went down.

  There was a nasty struggle on the ground, all fur and blood and snarling. And then Caradoc was up, and Tara was flying across the car park again.

  Right into my bloody car.

  “How terribly unfortunate,” said Elise. “I am certain that will not be covered by the insurance. I recall the specifications of the policy quite distinctly.”

  Tara crawled out of the backseat of my Corsa, scattering broken glass. I didn’t like to think what she’d done to my upholstery. Caradoc edged warily past her, reached down and ripped off the fucking door.

  “I do not believe that is covered by the insurance either.”

  “Well, sweeting,” drawled Julian, “that’s what you get if you park in a bad part of town.”

  Caradoc snapped off the top of the window frame, straightened it out into a kind of swordy shape and threw everything else aside. I guess he was a stick-to-what-you-know kind of guy. He went for Tara again, trying to impale her on his shiny new metal spike. She swerved away, and he gouged a deep wound into her flank. As he pulled his arm back for another strike, she wheeled round and sprang at him. The tip of the weapon pierced her shoulder, but he took her full weight on his chest and crashed backwards, somehow managing not to damage any more of my property.

  Tara snapped at his face, forcing him to bring his hands up in self-defence. They struggled a moment, then Caradoc shoved the wolf away, sending her and his makeshift spear tumbling across the floor. He attacked at full vamp speed, a blur of claws and fangs and righteous anger.

  In a rush of gold, Tara shifted back to her human form, ripped the piece of window frame from her shoulder, and plunged it straight into Caradoc’s heart.

  He dropped. Looking pretty surprised.

  There was a long silence broken only by Tara’s harsh breathing and then by a golf clap from Julian. “Well, that was efficacious.”

  Diego gave Julian a look that said if I had my way, I’d be strapping you to a rack about now.

  Tuffie or Smudge hurried forwards with one of Tara’s trademark wispy dressing gowns. She slipped her arms into the robe, the marks on her body already closing as I looked at them. Not that I was looking.

  Jack shuffled forwards. “So, um, the challenger loses, so I, um, guess the war goes on. This is still, um, neutral ground, so don’t, like, kill each other until you get outside.” Then he exploded into a swarm of rats and scattered.

  Tara shook out her hair. “I will give you one hour’s grace, and after that, we will kill any vampire we find on the streets.”

  “You know,” observed Thomas Pryce, “this is all needlessly wasteful.”

  “It is typical of your kind to negotiate when you have already been defeated.”

  “Miss Vane-Tempest, I cannot think of a better time to negotiate.”

  She swept past him. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  Her dramatic exit was spoiled by the white Ford
transit van that came trundling down the ramp into the car park. And I’d thought my car looked out of place. It came to a halt in front of the wolves, the back doors swung open, and a kid in a blue school uniform with her hands cuffed behind her back tumbled out onto the floor.

  “Philippa!” cried Tuffie or Smudge.

  Mercy descended from the back of the van like a very conservatively dressed avenging angel. She rested one taloned hand on the girl’s shoulder. It didn’t look hard, but Philippa cringed. “Do you know how foolish it is that you send all of your children to the same two schools?”

  Tara froze. “Let her go. Now.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or we’ll kill you all.”

  “Isn’t that your plan anyway?” Mercy’s fingers tightened slightly. “This is simple retribution. You exterminate us, we will exterminate you. I believe, during détente, they referred to it as mutually assured destruction.”

  Philippa whimpered, and Tara took a half step forwards. “This violates the Compact.”

  Mercy tilted her head slightly. It reminded me of Aeglica. “You are entitled to attempt to control our numbers. We are entitled to defend ourselves.”

  “Defend yourselves,” snarled Henry, coming to Tara’s side, “not abduct children.”

  “The law does not constrain us to fight only with weapons of your choosing. This girl is just an example. Unless my agents hear otherwise, a generation of your people will be wiped out.”

  Tara’s whole body tensed. This wasn’t the kind of situation where you made a lot of sudden movements and sudden movements were kind of her thing. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “You have no idea what I would or would not dare. Call off your hunt, go home, and leave our business to us.”

  “Let Pippa go.”

  “Take your cub.” Mercy stepped away. Philippa scrambled to her feet and ran, teary-eyed, to where the pack was waiting. “Now, do you agree to my terms?”

  “For the moment. But you’ve made an enemy today.”

  Mercy folded her clawed hands neatly in front of her. “I’ve tried making friends. I found it unreliable.”

  The wolves left about as quickly as you’d expect from people who’d just been told their kids were in mortal danger.