by Liz de Jager
‘So Brixi, who must have been around for a damn long time, by the way, employed you . . . ?’
‘Not me personally, but yes, there’s a contract.’ He stops, looking as if he’s said all he was prepared to say. But Dante just leans forward, his fingers toying suggestively with the iron nail, ignoring the way it blisters his own skin. He drops his glamour a little and wafts some more pheromones Torsten’s way, and Torsten suddenly seems eager to please.
‘We get paid to find these children and hand them over to someone who can move across to the Otherwhere.’
There’s something that doesn’t make sense here but before I can ask another question, Dante moves again and Torsten inhales sharply, his eyelids fluttering. Dante pretends not to notice and takes a few seconds to compose his question.
‘Are you working with Ulrich Pfeiffer?’
‘No. Mr Pfeiffer is a musician and a kind man who thought his son lost to drugs. It wasn’t difficult to take over Torsten’s life, not when his father wanted his son back.’
‘I don’t understand.’
A look of surprise crosses Torsten’s face. ‘You caught me, you know I’m Fae but you don’t know what I am?’ A smile tugs at his mouth. ‘So if I were to do this, you’d be surprised.’
The change is subtle and gradual but Torsten shifts into an exact replica of me. He sends me the grin I know drives Jamie nuts, the one he told me would get me beaten up more if I used it outside family meetings. It’s not just my face and body he’s replicated, but how I’m sitting in my chair and the way I’m blinking at him in confusion.
‘That is freaky,’ I say.
‘That is freaky,’ Torsten-me says. ‘Mimicry is one of my particular Fae talents, allowing me to take on Theodore Pfeiffer’s shape. I took over his life, because his father’s connections made it easy to gain access to the music festival.’
‘But what exactly did you do at the festival?’
The slow grin that stretches Torsten-me’s face gives me the creeps and I look away in discomfort.
‘It is not as sordid as you may think, Blackhart.’ He flexes, rolling his shoulders forward and cricking his neck before changing back into Torsten. ‘Excuse me as I change back. I’ve never quite felt comfortable being of the female persuasion, although that too can hold some . . .’
Dante leans unbelievably quickly into Torsten’s personal space and actually jabs the iron into the exposed skin of his arm. He sits back before I can even react, the offending nail once more between his fingers, the iron singeing his skin.
Torsten hisses in pain and his eyes flash a dangerous black colour. For a moment, so briefly I can almost convince myself I’ve not seen it, I see the face Adam Scott drew for me – the split face, the sharp teeth. Then it’s gone, and he’s once more just a fairly ordinary-looking human, tied to a chair in a dodgy London warehouse.
‘Can you cut the crap and just tell us what we need to know? Unless, of course, you prefer me using this on you again?’ Dante holds up the bit of iron between his fingers and shows it to Torsten. ‘Unless you like the pain just a little too much? I find myself intrigued by it. I like how your pain makes me a little hungry.’ There’s a bit too much timbre in his voice as it echoes strangely around the warehouse, making me shiver.
There are some things I don’t want to know and the thought that Dante might like inflicting pain on others is one of them.
Torsten watches Dante warily and looks tired; maybe the questioning is starting to wear him down.
‘It is simple. Brixi holds the covenant to the land where the festival is held. And it’s easy enough to get drunken festival-goers to agree to things they may not remember the next morning, when they leave the festival for their quiet lives.’
Dante purses his lips. ‘Still not clear, sorry. Try harder.’
Torsten sighs in annoyance. ‘Humans are easily led and tricked into making important vows when inebriated. It is simple really to extract promises should a series of what seem like highly unlikely events come to pass. Especially when they think they are having some kind of religious experience.’
‘The leylines,’ I say, chilled to the core. ‘You drop them into the leylines and they experience magic. Do you know how dangerous that is?’
His expression says, Duh, yes, I know.
‘Oh my God.’ I sit back in my chair. ‘You can’t do stuff like that. It’s irresponsible and stupid. It can drive people over the edge, make them do crazy stuff.’
‘Exactly.’ He sounds a bit sad but shrugs. ‘The earth magic they experience is potent and, maybe ninety per cent of the time, it results in children being born nine months later. We keep watch on them, and if a new tithe is required, we know where to find our crop.’
‘So the leylines are pure magic. And you force these people to experience it until they’re drunk and high – then you get them to vow to hand over a child that may or may not be born to them sometime in the future,’ Dante says, his voice tight.
‘In a nutshell.’
‘It’s disgusting. Illegal and just . . . Euch, how long have you even been doing this?’
Before Torsten can answer me, Dante speaks up again.
‘Does the same thing happen in Brixton?’
‘With the estate children, it’s Brixi’s land,’ he replies. ‘The need to provide a tithe of children is written into the tenants’ covenants. They sign it. And they know about the covenant – it’s there for them to read.’ He grins. ‘Of course, no one quite believes it. It’s written off as just a quirky clause within the tenancy contracts. And everyone loves the old days, because obviously it can’t still be valid, can it? Besides, it might not happen. The clause states that in the eventuality of express need the tithe is required. Years go by when nothing happens and humans forget, so very quickly. But, of course, if a child happens to get taken, there is a monetary recompense.’
I really thought I’d met some seriously vile people in my life, but listening to Torsten explain all of this so casually makes my blood boil. I could only detect the smallest tinge of regret in his voice, which makes me want to punch something hard, and repeatedly.
‘Explain to us who you are,’ Dante demands. ‘In all of this – this sick farce.’
‘He’s the Pied Piper,’ I say, looking at Torsten. ‘Look at him – the flute, the rats, the kids. It all fits. Think about it. He can shift the way he did earlier, making the kids think he’s their mum or dad when he comes through the window or wall or whatever.’
‘What about the pictures we got from Adam Scott and his brother. You looked like a nightmare creature. All fangs and tatters.’
‘Meant to scare him,’ Torsten admits. ‘He threw me off my game and before I could go back for the other boy, they’d left for India. I had to take the little girl instead. Shoddy work, but that’s why there’s always a plan B. And yes, the Blackhart is right. I am a pied piper. One of several. My tribe and I are in high demand, all over the world. Sometimes we even just hunt the rats we’re asked to remove.’
‘You break into children’s homes and steal them. That is sick.’
He shrugs. ‘Just know that this has never been personal. It’s a job I’ve been employed to do. There’ve been several of us working with Brixi and his people wherever the tithes are still in force.’
‘But why . . .’ I gather my thoughts. ‘Why did you need to set this up with both the festival and the estate?’
Torsten looks a bit surprised at this and tilts his head. ‘To double our chances, Blackhart. It is prudent animal husbandry.’
My mouth falls open because he’s just shown that he really held human lives to be of no higher value than livestock. Dante’s burning gaze finds mine and he jerks his head to the side, so I get up and follow him a few paces away.
‘Do you believe him?’
‘Yes I do; there are a lot of signs that point to this. Including that research I did in my aunt’s library. And, you know, there were all those rats,’ I point out and don’t even bo
ther suppressing the shudder.
Dante nods thoughtfully, then says. ‘Let’s wrap this up.’
I hunker down next to Torsten and look up at him, shifting the dynamic between us. ‘You have to tell me what you know about the kids being held in the Otherwhere.’
‘I know I hand them over to Brixi and he takes them away. I don’t know what he does with them.’
‘It’s just a business contract, right?’ Dante’s voice is bitter. His hands clench at his sides as he turns to look down at Torsten, who shrugs.
‘Why are you helping us?’
‘Because I want the Beast to know that I cooperated.’ Torsten’s smile is fierce and a bit manic as he glances away from me into the darkness. ‘He’s been in the shadows, listening all this time.’
Both Dante and I swing around at the sound of footsteps behind us. Suola’s torturer and enforcer walks out of the shadows, his gait slow and measured. I hardly notice the limp. As before, he’s dressed beautifully this time in a severely cut suit, complete with waistcoat and cane. He looks more pressed and properly British than anyone I’ve ever seen, apart from models in Megan’s fashion magazines.
‘I am impressed,’ he says. ‘Only a few instances of minor torture and he gives up the goods.’
‘It doesn’t matter, though, does it?’ I counter, annoyed. ‘He knew you were in the shadows. He was saving his own butt by spilling the beans.’
‘This is true, but I’ve seen people relish having power over the weak, regardless of what they’re being told.’ His strange dark eyes sweep past Torsten and me and come to rest on Dante. ‘Boy, you need to make peace with who you are before it gnaws at you and tears you apart.’
Dante looks at him incredulously but the Beast moves towards Torsten.
‘Are you sure you’ve told these children the truth?’ he says, bending over him, his face a mere fraction of a millimetre away from Torsten’s.
‘I have, as much as I have been able.’
The Beast nods slowly, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. He gestures for Dante. ‘Come, tell me what you feel.’
I watch Dante hesitantly move towards him until he’s standing right next to him, closer than most humans would before feeling their private space invaded.
‘What I feel?’ He asks, looking at the older man.
‘Yes, in the alleyway you told young Kit that you could sense, feel, what the people outside that awful nightclub felt. That young woman who called to you with her loneliness. I sensed it too, but not as clearly as you, I think. I want you to tell me what you feel, now.’
Dante shoots me a look of alarm and I know what he’s thinking. If Suola’s Beast had been in the alleyway, why didn’t he interfere, the way he’s doing now? Why follow us here? What’s his game?
Dante looks down at Torsten, who keeps his gaze set rigidly on the floor between the two men standing in front of him.
‘Fear. He’s afraid of you.’
‘It’s natural. I am not quite the Easter Bunny. What else?’
‘Relief. He is relieved because he thinks it’s over.’
‘Excellent. What else?’
‘Remorse. He feels remorse for his role in the abduction of the children but there’s nothing he could have done. No way he could have gone against the wishes of his employer.’
‘You’ve done really well, young Dante. Your father would have been impressed.’ The Beast’s smile is one of approval. He reaches out a hand towards Dante to clap him on the shoulder but Dante steps back, out of reach.
‘You know? You knew what I was when you gave us this job?’
‘No, I suspected. Suola acted on her gut feeling and, as usual, she was right.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means, young man, that you are both an asset and a danger.’ The Beast’s smile reminds me of the cat that stole the cream. ‘You are a full-blooded Fae from a very noble Sidhe house. If your uncle Aelfric dies, you move closer to the throne. Your father worked diligently for years, a great many years, to put a list of allies together who would support him in his quest to overthrow Aelfric – who, as the years have gone by, has become self-indulgent and dangerous to Alba’s stability. When you were born to Eadric and his wife, your father knew he had to keep you safe from his brother if he was to attempt the coup. Otherwise he’d be too vulnerable. He used a tremendous amount of power to ensure you stayed hidden, and it mostly paid off.’
‘He never contacted me. I never knew him.’ Dante shrugs and I see so much anger and defeat in him that my heart hurts for him. ‘I’m not sure how I feel about you trying to make me feel better about who I am, when my family never bothered finding me in the first instance.’
The Beast places his cane carefully between his feet, wraps his hands over the worked silver handle and rocks back slightly on his heels to examine Dante.
‘Knowing Eadric’s thoroughness, I’d be inclined to think that he’d have kept you secret even from family. And he had all the worlds to hide you in as well as any-when.’ Suola’s enforcer gives me an unreadable look. ‘But, of course, no one counted on the Blackharts getting involved.’
I answer with a scowl. I’m really not fond of people disrespecting my family.
‘You, my dear, are far too free with your magic in this world. You use spells and fling balls of energy around as if you’re some kind of untouchable.’ He shakes his head slowly. ‘Regardless of what you may think, you aren’t invulnerable and you need to be extremely careful. What you did in the Otherwhere by stopping the Old Ones – that drew a lot of attention and not all of it welcome.’ His smile is sharp. ‘We can’t do with losing you before you’ve played out the rest of your role, now can we?’
Chapter Forty-Nine
Before I can tell him what I think about his enigmatic advice, he seems to remember himself and the fact that he’s here for Torsten. He tucks one hand into his jacket pocket, bringing out a small wooden token. I recognize the sigil inscribed on it: the token is an exact replica of the ones Dante and I were handed by Melusine.
‘Enough chatting, I think. I need to get him back to Suola so she can decide what to do with him.’ He taps the chair with his cane. ‘Get up, Piper.’
I’m used to seeing weird things, but even I’m impressed when Torsten’s bindings melt away, allowing him to stand up. He rubs his wrists briefly, before wincing as he touches the burn mark on his neck.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, looking at me. ‘Sometimes you can’t escape the responsibilities placed on you by others.’
I watch the two of them walk away, Torsten looking like a deviant in his ratty black jeans and death metal T-shirt, and the Beast dressed like a lord.
A world of impatience comes crashing down on me.
‘So that’s it, huh? You take the piper back to Suola and no one cares about the kids?’
The Beast turns to look at me with a raised eyebrow. ‘What would you like me to do?’
‘Show some compassion. Think about the kids, about their families missing them.’
He taps the cane to his chin and shrugs. ‘I’m sorry, they knew what they were agreeing to when they made the compact and they’ve all been financially compensated, somehow.’
‘No.’ Dante’s voice cuts through the chill air of the warehouse. ‘No, they didn’t know what they were agreeing to. How can you even say that? I’ve seen the financial “compensation” that these families have received. And nothing, nothing, makes up for the loss of a child from a family.’
That dark eyebrow curves in amusement as Dante speaks. I resist the urge to throw my sword at the Beast’s head.
‘I agree with you, but, really, what do you want me to do? They are not my concern, nor is it my concern that someone’s employing pipers to steal children. Until it is made my concern, I am here for the one who caused unpleasantness for my queen. That is all.’
‘So, if Suola instructed you to hunt down Torsten’s employer and find the children, you’d do it?’
I don�
�t like the considering look the Beast gives me.
‘Perhaps.’
I leave Dante’s side and walk towards them. ‘I’d like to request an audience with her majesty, the Queen of Air and Darkness.’
‘Hmm. Always doing the unexpected, Blackhart. Very well. I will send someone with an answer at dawn tomorrow to your home.’
‘We can’t go now?’ Dante asks, his tone eager.
‘No. Tonight I spend with Torsten. He and I will be getting to know one another a little bit better.’
Torsten pales under his tan and he glances towards the door at the far side of the warehouse, but the Beast gives him no opportunity to make a break for it. He lays a gentle hand between his shoulder blades and walks him into the shadows. I watch as they fade from my sight and I hear the fine snap of the token breaking. The magic buffets me lightly and I shake my head to clear it.
‘Can we use our tokens to follow them?’ Dante asks, opening his hand to show me he still has Suola’s token ensuring safe travel to the Otherwhere. I dig mine out from around my neck and stare down at it.
‘We can try,’ I say.
He gives me a nod and on the count of three, we crack the small wooden tokens to activate their power. I hold my breath, waiting for the wuff of magic but nothing happens. With a sigh of disgust Dante tosses the token to the side.
‘We’re winning, right?’ Dante asks me as I walk over and sit down on the chair Torsten’s evacuated.
‘I suppose so. I’m not sure.’ I look at him and feel sad that he looks so serious and freaked out. ‘I just want to go to bed after this is all over and sleep for a week. Then! Then, I just need to go somewhere quiet and warm where no one knows who I am, where I don’t have to carry iron or my sword and knives.’
‘It sounds nice.’
‘It does, doesn’t it?’
I look at my phone as it buzzes. ‘Aiden’s on his way. Let’s go get food. I’m starving.’
Chapter Fifty
Slightly to my surprise, our request for an audience with Suola is granted. The house we’re shown into, shortly after dawn, is just off Park Lane in Mayfair. It’s a large affair with tall soaring ceilings and doorways big enough to accommodate giants. The thought of giants makes me uncomfortable because you know anything is possible when dealing with the Fae. The rooms we pass through are mostly empty of furniture; the few pieces left sit under dust covers. There are very few paintings or tapestries and all the mirrors are covered with black cloth. I shudder involuntarily, remembering my past experiences with talking mirrors and scurry past them, following the slender young man who seems to be our guide for today’s visit.