The Cold Kiss of Death

by Suzanne McLeod

  ‘But you can do it?’

  ‘If I wished to.’

  ‘Name it,’ I sighed. ‘Your price. It’s a one-time deal, though, nothing more.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you offering me a sidhe bargain, Genevieve?’

  ‘It’s what you want, isn’t it?’ I said drily. ‘Why else would you be hanging around, directing the proceedings?’

  ‘Why else, indeed,’ he said slowly, then clapped his hands together, making me jump. ‘But it is too great an offer to be decided on in haste.’

  ‘Three choices then, but I get right of veto, and if I don’t like any of them, then we settle on one offer of blood, okay?’

  ‘Blood in whatever way I choose to enjoy it.’ He smiled slowly, letting me glimpse fang. It wasn’t a question, but an obvious statement of his intent.

  My heart flip-flopped. Damn. Why did he have to be so beautiful as well as a manipulative bastard? ‘So long as no one gets hurt.’

  ‘So long as no one else gets physically hurt,’ he amended.

  My heart flip-flopped for an entirely different reason. Specifics like that were so not good. Was I really going to make a bargain with him? I’d been planning on a mutual business-like deal, not staking my future on a magic-bound bargain. Bargains never work out well for anyone; the magic is too capricious. I looked over at Bobby, huddled on the floor: he’d lost his mother and his girlfriend and his father was in a coma. He might be a hot pin-up for fang-fans, but he was still that scared teenager I’d first met, and never mind he was a vamp, he didn’t deserve to die, not if I could help. And neither did the girl, no matter what she was here to see me about. I closed my eyes and said a brief prayer to whatever god might be listening.

  ‘I agree,’ I said.

  ‘No.’ Malik’s pupils flared briefly with bright flames. ‘I do not agree.’

  My mouth fell open in shock. He was refusing? ‘What do you mean, you don’t agree?’ I demanded.

  ‘I do not wish to make this bargain.’

  ‘But what about them?’ I waved my arm at the girl and Bobby.

  ‘They are not part of this concern, Genevieve.’ His words slipped over me like a chill shadow on a sun-kissed autumn day and I shivered, goosebumps pricking my skin. Then his gaze turned inwards, his expression almost bordering on pain.

  Around us, the hallway erupted into calm but determined action.

  The hovering guard strode over to Bobby and, removing his hands from the knife, pulled it out. It came free with a wet ripping sound that had Neil Banner flinching. Bobby groaned with pain as more dark blood gushed from between his fingers. The guard moved him gently so he was lying on his side.

  Grace efficiently removed the shunt from Moth-girl’s neck and the other doctor, Craig, carried her as carefully as if she were breakable to lay her alongside Bobby. Bobby’s eyes fluttered and he raised his head, lips drawing back from his fangs. A yellow gem in his headband sputtered, then fizzed out. Beside me, Malik shifted, a small movement of discomfort. Then Bobby lowered his head and Moth-girl jerked as he struck. The soft noise of sucking whispered through the hallway as Grace and Craig pulled themselves to their feet and moved over to the orange visitors’ chairs.

  ‘It is done,’ Malik said. He stepped over to where Moth-girl had lain and picked up the bloodstained white ribbon. Bringing it to his nose, he sniffed, then carefully folded it up and stowed it away into his pocket. He walked to reception and started to speak quietly with Hari. As I looked around to locate my discarded jeans and trainers I strained my ears, but couldn’t hear what they were saying. I bent to pick up my clothes.

  ‘Ms Taylor.’ Neil Banner’s voice at my shoulder made me straighten. He smiled hopefully at me, keeping his eyes fixed on my face. ‘I wanted to remind you of our earlier conversation and ask whether you know about the matter I mentioned?’

  ‘The delicate matter involving this supposed legacy,’ I said, folding the jeans over my arm and holding them in front of me. I’m not shy, but he suddenly seemed to be. ‘Before we go any further, I want my solicitor to see the will.’ Once I find one, I added, to myself. ‘Is that acceptable?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, holding out a card. ‘My contact details. Just let me know when you’re ready. The sooner the better - tonight even - the head of the Order is keen to get this dealt with.’

  Way too keen, I said to myself. I tilted my head, time for a bit of probing. ‘How does you being a necromancer fit in with all this religious stuff? Don’t most faiths consider you evil?’

  ‘Ah, I wondered if you would understand when I told you about my ability to see souls.’ He gave me a half-smile. ‘But it is not the gift that is given to us that matters, but what we do with it.’

  ‘Okay, I understand that.’ I wanted to ask him to talk to Cosette, but my bullshit antenna was now vibrating like a siren’s tuning fork.

  ‘Genevieve.’ Malik’s voice came in my mind. ‘It is time for us to go. I have other matters to deal with this night, as well as your problem with the police.’

  I half turned, obeying his command - until I realised what I was doing. I shook my head and made myself stop. Damn annoying vampire, why couldn’t he just ask like a normal person? I clamped down on the compulsion to move as I thought about Banner’s request and what had bothered me earlier: why would the Earl leave the Fabergé egg to the Soulers?

  ‘The person who left you this legacy,’ I said to Banner. ‘Do you know why he did?’

  Neil Banner smiled his zealot’s smile. ‘He wants us to pray for his soul.’

  The Earl had never struck me as religious, but I hadn’t spent more than a couple of hours in his company before I killed him, so who was I to know?

  ‘Fair enough,’ I said, taking his card. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  I looked anxiously over at Bobby and the girl, now being separated by Grace and the security guard. ‘Are they both going to live?’

  ‘If God wills it they shall.’ He clasped his hands earnestly in front of his chest. ‘Both of their auras are brighter, more solid now. Thaddeus and I will continue to pray for them both’ - his mouth lifted in a solemn smile - ‘and offer them more secular help once they recover.’

  ‘Come, Genevieve.’ Malik’s voice sounded again in my head. ‘Leave the doctors to take care of their patients.’

  I wanted to wait until I knew they were both okay. I also needed some answers: what had Moth-girl wanted to give me - and how had she known where to find me? And who had sent her and why? And I wanted to talk to Grace. But the insistent need to go with Malik pulled at me like an overstretched wire, and the stiff set of his shoulders under the black suit jacket and the tense line of his jaw told me his patience wasn’t endless. So with my pulse thudding for more than one reason, I followed the beautiful vampire away from HOPE.

  Chapter Sixteen

  AGold Goblin taxi waited outside, the sour smell of its methane-fuelled engine hanging like a pall in the damp night air. The Stick goblin jumped out and held the cab door open. His lime-green topknot looked like a hairy tarantula had taken up residence on his head. A gust of chill wind flattened his navy boilersuit against his body and his tall, lanky frame reminded me of the turban-headed dryads who’d chased me earlier. Not surprising really; the goblin queen had cross-cloned tree trolls with indentured sky-born goblins to get workers tall enough and with eyesight good enough to pass their driving tests.

  ‘G’night, miss, g’night, mister.’ The goblin slid a triple-jointed finger down his nose and stamped; his trainers flashed green. Another gust whistled past and the leaves in the nearest trees rustled. I wondered if the trees had recognised me and were passing the message on to the dryads, but the goblin didn’t react, so maybe it was just the wind.

  As I returned the greeting Malik held out a small black velvet pouch to the goblin. ‘Any dealings between my companion and I are not to be repeated or conveyed in any shape or form,’ he said.

  The goblin took the pouch, his spring-green eyes narrowing to
a squint as he upended it carefully into his palm. Three black stones the size of misshapen marbles glittered in the interior light from the taxi. The goblin’s squirrel-like ears twitched as he brought the stones to his nose and sniffed.

  ‘Are we agreed?’ Malik asked.

  The Stick goblin rebagged the stones. ‘Sure thing, mister.’ He patted his wrinkled grey hand over the Gold Goblin crest embroidered on the chest of his blue boilersuit and stamped his foot again.

  Malik inclined his head, then ushered me into the cab. ‘After you, Genevieve.’

  I hesitated for a moment, wondering if we were going to the Metropolitan Police Magic and Murder Squad’s headquarters or not. Even as I thought it, Malik said quietly, ‘Old Scotland Yard is the correct destination, is it not, Genevieve?’

  Reassured, I nodded, and he repeated it to the goblin. I stepped into the taxi and scooted to the far side of the back seat, the plastic cold against my bare thighs. Malik sank down next to me, stretched out his long legs and closed his eyes. The goblin jumped in, crunched the taxi’s gears and off we rumbled.

  I tugged my jeans back on, struggling to stay on my side of the taxi as it rounded a bend. I glanced at Malik, noticing the map of faint blue veins under the pale skin of his hands and along the fine line of his jaw. He was hungry. I’d thought he’d been about to lose it and go into bloodlust back inside HOPE before he’d bitten me. But so far that hadn’t happened, so maybe I was working on faulty info from my stepmother, or maybe being a revenant made him different. Of course, he still could go all murderous with bloodlust, and trapped in a taxi with him like this, it wasn’t going to be the healthy option. For me anyway.

  ‘I am not so in need of blood that I will put you at risk, Genevieve,’ he said softly.

  His words answered my unspoken fears, but still they made my pulse hitch.

  He opened his eyes, giving me an almost amused look. ‘But it would be less difficult if you could calm your heart rate.’

  Yay! The monster says he isn’t going to eat me. Yet.

  I breathed in, aiming for relaxed; and instead a curl of lust twisted inside me as I inhaled his dark spice scent. I banished it with thoughts of Fabergé eggs, necromancers, Moth-girls and Bobby, and finally narrowed them down to the more immediate question of my alibi, or rather, Malik turning up with my alibi at the top of his to-do list - he hadn’t even fed properly before coming to find me. So why had he really sought me out? I opened my mouth to ask, then decided not disturbing him might be a better idea for now. The buttoned-up suit made him look distant, unapproachable - then I realised it wasn’t just the suit. He’d shut down. He’d stopped his heart from beating, stopped his lungs from drawing breath and dialled his hypersensitive vampire senses back to less than an average human’s. It’s something most vamps pick up pretty quickly after taking the Gift; it makes it easier to integrate into human society, a way to avoid the siren calls of beating hearts and fang-aching blood scents. Unauthorised nibbling to satisfy those midnight-munchies is a sure-fire route to getting the chop - literally - with a one-way trip to the guillotine. Of course, snacking on a willing victim isn’t a problem, so long as it’s on licensed premises—

  The lens of the taxi’s CCTV camera caught my attention and suddenly alarm bells started ringing. I leaned forward and tapped the glass partition. ‘We need to go back to the HOPE clinic,’ I said to the goblin driver.

  He shifted his head slightly and in the rear-view mirror I saw the rear lights of the bus in front reflecting red in his shiny green eyes.

  ‘Keep going,’ Malik said quietly.

  The goblin gave a sharp nod.

  Damn. I turned to face Malik. ‘The hospital’s got security cameras,’ I said, keeping a tight rein on my frustration. ‘They’ll have caught Bobby feeding, it’s not licensed premises, and his being out of it isn’t going to make any—’

  ‘The cameras were not focused on that particular part of the incident,’ he interrupted. ‘The humans will believe it was their efforts that were successful in saving both the vampire and the girl; they will not remember otherwise.’

  So he’d adjusted their memories during the mind-lock, which made sense—

  ‘But what about the troll? And the Beater goblin and the Souler, they all know the truth.’

  ‘There have been recent meetings between the Vampire High Table, the Goblin Queen and the Matriarch of London’s troll clan.’ He pushed the fall of black hair back; the stone piercing his earlobe glinted black against his pale skin. ‘We have negotiated several new treaties to ensure the current confidence the humans have in their safety around vampires does not become compromised.’

  Surprise winged through me. The vamps and the goblins had always talked, but the trolls were new to the mix. It wasn’t just the venom hits I’d missed since I’d given up my regular trips to Sucker Town - as Rosa - but all the gossip too.

  ‘The incident tonight would have been blown up out of proportion by the media,’ Malik carried on, ‘particularly as it involved Mr October. He has only recently been cleared of murder charges; ally that with the current anti-fae feeling and it is possible that it would incite the humans to turn against anyone Other. It is in the best interest of all to minimise any such incidences.’

  Of course, it didn’t help that I was in the frame for murder, heating up the simmering anti-fae discrimination almost to boiling point. Still, even if Malik was for minimising any problems, he hadn’t appeared too thrilled by the idea back at HOPE.

  ‘If keeping a lid on what happened is for the greater good’ - although mostly for the vamps’ greater good, a cynical voice in the back of my mind added - ‘why were you getting all worked up about sorting things out back there, then?

  ‘If I had done nothing, Genevieve,’ he said, soft-voiced, ‘the outcome would ultimately be the same. Mr October would still be a hero, albeit a dead one, and the girl would be just another sad statistic. It was the method used to save their lives, which would have been sensationalised, as you so rightly surmised.’

  I ran my hand anxiously over my hair then stopped as my fingers tangled in the Glamour-spelled ponytail. I could just imagine the headlines: VAMP CHOWS DOWN WHILE DOCS WATCH or even, HOSPITAL FOOD JUST GOT BLOODIER. The media would make a five-course meal out of it all. And Grace would lose her job!

  ‘Are you sure the humans won’t remember anything?’ I asked, worried.

  ‘They may dream.’ He touched a finger to the platinum ring that banded his thumb in what seemed a vaguely troubled gesture. ‘It is not the ideal way to force human minds as I did, but I had neither the time nor the fortitude to gain their compliance in any other way.’

  ‘Has it done them any harm?’

  ‘No, but the two doctors’ minds were difficult.’ He lifted one hand, indicating that he’d done what he could. ‘If they think about anything too hard, they might recover their memories.’

  ‘Grace is my friend,’ I said, frowning, ‘she’s going to wonder why I left. What did you tell her?’

  ‘You saw she was busy and did not want to disturb her.’

  I tapped my thigh; Grace wasn’t going to believe that! She’d have expected me to hang around and help. I dug out my phone and texted her to say I’d found my alibi and I’d talk to her later, after I’d been to the police. Then I noticed I’d missed a text from Finn, saying Tavish was home and his place was safe; he’d see me there. I texted back okay and left it at that, not wanting to tell him where I was going, and unsure just how safe Tavish’s place really was, thanks to the sidhe queen’s curse thing.

  ‘The girl kept saying she had something to give me.’ I looked up at Malik. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve any ideas?’

  ‘Do you know what this is?’ He produced a length of bloodstained white ribbon from his pocket.

  ‘It was tied round the girl’s neck,’ I said. Something was nagging at my mind about the ribbon, but as I tried to catch the thought it was gone. ‘And no, before you ask, I don’t know what it means. So perhaps
you could hold off on being mysterious for the moment and just tell me what’s important about it?’

  He smoothed the ribbon between his fingers and I shivered at the sensation as if he’d smoothed the ribbon around my own throat. Mesma.

  ‘It is a tradition amongst us that when we wish to court another’s favour we will offer a gift,’ he said, his expression pensive. ‘The colour of the ribbon signifies the giver’s intentions. Red is an offering of blood, black is an offering of sex, and white indicates the gift is available to do with as you will, to use for food, or sex, or with the addition of the venom and the knife there is an added option of a different entertainment.’