The Cold Kiss of Death

by Suzanne McLeod

  Watching someone cut them themselves and bleed to death is entertainment? I frowned. But if it was a vamp thing, why had Moth-girl been sent to find me? I looked down at the scraped skin of my knuckles and remembered Bobby pleading for me to talk to Rosa, my supposed master for him.

  And then my mind went click! ‘So, Moth-girl herself was the actual gift.’ A bloody box of chocolates, vampire style. ‘So some vamp wants something from Rosa’ - much like Bobby had - ‘but they can’t find her, so instead they stoke up Moth-girl and send her to me, presumably thinking I’d know to pass the gift on to Rosa, because they all think Rosa’s my “master”?’

  ‘The situation has escalated further than I had imagined,’ he agreed.

  So now I knew the what, and the partial why, but I still didn’t know the who behind Moth-girl, or how they/she’d found me at HOPE. Something still nagged at me.

  ‘It is an issue that needs to be resolved,’ he carried on, ‘before it spawns any more problems. If one vampire has conceived this idea, no doubt others will.’

  Fuck! ‘And I thought it was bad enough when all the invitations started turning up,’ I muttered, angry that yet another vamp problem had decided to metaphorically bite me. ‘But at least they weren’t hurting anyone. No way do I want any more gifts like poor Moth-girl—’

  He captured my wrist, his fingers cold against my skin. ‘What invitations?’

  I blinked, wanting to pull away, but then a feeling of languor slipped over me; there really was no need. All I had to do was answer his questions, nothing more. Wasn’t it more comfortable just to chat? Of course it was. I settled back into my seat, smiling at how pleasant it was to sit here, my hand in his, his thumb gently stroking my sore knuckles ... Only it was as if the conversation was in another room and I was watching us through a window, not quite able to hear, no matter how hard I tried to listen. Then the glass separating us dissolved ...

  ‘—and you have had invitations from vampires of all four blood families?’

  ‘Yes—’ I frowned, then yanked my hand from his. ‘What the hell did you just do to me?’

  ‘Nothing, Genevieve.’ His mesma soothed over my body with the barest touch. ‘It is a small trick to aid the recall of any information that the conscious mind might have dismissed as unimportant. That is all.’

  ‘Fine,’ I huffed, slightly pacified. ‘Only next time, try asking first, it might make me feel a bit friendlier towards you.’

  ‘You wish us to be friends?’ An odd inflection sounded in his voice.

  ‘I’m just saying’ - I rubbed the back of my hand, still feeling the gentleness of his touch - ‘ask before you pull any more of your tricks on me.’

  For a moment I thought I saw disappointment in his eyes, then his mouth curled in a mocking smile. ‘My apologies, Genevieve. I will try and remember.’

  He turned away to look out of the taxi window. Unsettled, and not entirely sure why, I looked ahead, seeing the Ferris-wheel of the London Eye loom bright against the night and recognised the road we were on. We’d be at Old Scotland Yard in another few minutes.

  Curiosity edged out the last of the languor in my mind. ‘So, what did you find out about the invitations with your little trick?’ I asked.

  ‘It is as I suspected,’ he said. ‘Those vampires who are not yet masters of their own existence might look to Rosa if they are in search for a new master, while those who have reached their autonomy are eager to offer her challenge in an attempt to annexe you as their prize. As they have not been able to discover her whereabouts, they have resorted to asking you directly, in the hope that you will accept their invitation to their blood. If you were to change your allegiance this way, then Rosa would become the challenger if she wished to regain you - her property ... or not, of course, as she wished.’

  ‘It all sounds so-o-o-o civilised - well, if you ignore the fact we’re talking about annexing me as their blood-pet prize,’ I said sarcastically.

  ‘The custom of sending invitations is a little-used caveat among our laws. We may not appropriate another’s property, but we can lay down a challenge, or we can offer enticements to the willing, as it were.’

  ‘Right, so that’s why no one’s clubbed me over the head and carried me off, and of course, they can’t find Rosa to challenge her because I haven’t used the spell.’

  ‘The situation is one that can be easily resolved,’ he said decisively. ‘All you need do is tell me where to find Rosa’s body and how to release her from whatever magic holds her, then once we have finished establishing your alibi at the police station, I will deal with the matter and it will no longer need concern you.’

  I grimaced. ‘Sorry, Malik, but that’s not going to be possible.’

  Pinpricks of anger sparked in the black of his eyes. ‘I will not allow—’ He stopped. ‘Genevieve, you cannot continue to walk in Rosa’s skin as you have been doing,’ he continued, his voice soft with threat. ‘You must see that it has become too dangerous for all concerned.’

  Sweat prickled down my spine; he’d once promised to kill Rosa, when he’d first discovered she was no longer her, but I’d really thought we’d got past that stage. Maybe not, whispered a small voice at the back of my mind.

  ‘It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,’ I said, my voice firm, ‘it’s that I really don’t know where Rosa is. I bought what I thought was an expensive Disguise spell, nothing more. All I do is activate it, and then, well, I’m Rosa.’

  ‘From whom did you purchase the spell?’ he demanded.

  ‘The Ancient One. She’s a black witch or a sorcerer, or maybe both. I guess she must know where Rosa is. She’s got a stall in Covent Garden, or at least she used to.’ I smoothed my damp hands down my jean-clad thighs. ‘I’ve been trying to find her myself for the last month, but apparently she’s been AWOL for a while now.’

  ‘I know of the Ancient One.’ His face lost all expression. ‘The reason you cannot locate her is because she is dead. The Earl killed her nearly a year ago, over some trifle she refused to give him.’

  Damn! And I’ve been paying her every month for the spell too! Briefly I wondered to whom the money was going, and whether Rosa could be traced that way, but Data Protection and red tape made me dismiss that as the long-winded solution. As Malik had pointed out, with Moth-girl’s appearance my problems had indeed multiplied. And with all the rest, like finding Tomas’ murderer, the quicker the vamp ones were sorted the better. I gazed at the beautiful vampire now staring out of the taxi window. He was centuries old, he had to have considered all the possible ramifications - like what would have to happen if he couldn’t find the real Rosa ...

  I sat back, giving him a quizzical look. ‘So that’s Plan A out the window.’

  He turned to look at me with an enquiring expression.

  ‘C’mon, Malik.’ I drummed my fingers lightly on the seat between us. ‘Whatever it is you want to happen, you had it all worked out, and all you needed was Rosa. I bet that’s why you’ve been keeping tabs on me, hoping I’d lead you to her, wasn’t it? Then things got complicated by this murder thing.’ And wasn’t that an understatement! ‘And your little memory trick or whatever it was just now didn’t get you anywhere. Shit, you even thought about bargaining for the info back there at HOPE - but then you decided to do the psychological bit and gamble on me being obligated instead.’

  Something unreadable flickered in the depths of his eyes. ‘And are you feeling obligated?’

  Obligated? Yes, but also relieved, now I knew Rosa was the reason he’d been doing the stalker bit, and eager to get on with whatever his plan was if it meant finally ridding myself of all the vamps and their schemes - other than him, of course - which was my aim even before Tomas’ murderer had thrown us back together.

  ‘I can make “Rosa” put in an appearance,’ I said, the calm words belying the sudden apprehensive thud of my heart.

  He regarded me in silence, then finally said, ‘This is not how I wished to resolve this matter.�
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  ‘It’s not really my idea of fun either, but to be honest, not much to do with this business is.’

  ‘One point, Genevieve—’ He paused. ‘It might be better to settle this issue first, then deal with your alibi later ...’

  ‘Just in case the police don’t believe you and decide to lock me up,’ I finished drily.

  ‘It is an unlikely scenario, but it is always a possibility.’

  Knowing DI Crane’s less-than-positive attitude towards me, it was more like a probability, I thought glumly. Then there was the other reason why a trip to the police right now wasn’t as appealing as it might be: my morning meeting with Grianne, the phouka and whatever info she might come up with. An alibi was good, but an alibi and evidence, maybe even a name, was way better.

  ‘So what’s going to happen next?’ I asked.

  He leaned forward and knocked on the glass partition. ‘The Blue Heart, Leicester Square,’ he called to the goblin, who nodded.

  Then Malik sat back and gave me a considering look. ‘We will need to put on a performance for the others. Are you sure you wish to do this?’

  My heart thudded again and I wondered if I should ask what sort of show he meant, then decided maybe it was better not to know until the time came.

  ‘If it will stop that happening again to some other poor human,’ I said firmly, ‘and get rid of my vampire problems, then yes, of course.’

  ‘It will be dangerous,’ he warned.

  I laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. ‘So what isn’t around vampires?’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Leicester Square was an assault on the ears and eyes: voices high-pitched with excitement, the slap of shoes on the pavement, the background rumble of late-night traffic and bursts of music from the bars, bright lights reflecting myriad colours in the wind-ripped puddles, damp air chill against my skin. The evening tourists and party-going crowds parted around us as water flows around a boulder in a rushing stream, not even registering we were there - Malik’s mind-tricks at work. He closed his eyes, lifted his chin and sniffed the air, checking for vamps.

  I’d left my jacket back at HOPE and now I shivered in the cold October wind that rustled through the trees in the central garden. As I stuck my hands in my jean pockets I told myself it was the wind causing my jitters, not the prospect of going in to play games with a nightclub full of suckers. Still, at least I’d be out of reach of the dryads, or any other fae; no fae would be reckless enough to enter a vamp club without some sort of guarantee of safety - and mine was the silent vamp standing next to me. I took a steadying breath and scoped out our destination.

  The Blue Heart had started life as a multi-screen cinema before the vamps turned it into the hot-spot for meeting the fanged A-list celebs. Two-foot high silver letters stood over the entrance, with the ‘A’ in ‘HEART’ replaced by the club’s blood symbol: a large heart in blue neon that pulsed like it was alive. A huge screen mounted above the letters (a new addition since my last visit) was showing a close-up of Bobby’s face set in his trademark Mr October expression, all smoky eyes and sulky, sexy lip-quirk. Meet Mr October on All Hallows’ Eve in the Starlight Lounge scrolled in blood-red script across his face, followed by sold out. The screen switched to a dozen grinning Bella Lugosi lookalikes in full evening attire under a slowly spinning mirrored ball - Fangs for the Memory presents: The count’s Hallowe’en ball ~ tickets still available.

  ‘Doesn’t look like the ballroom dancing crowd are too keen,’ I said, looking back at Malik.

  He was staring at the entrance. There was a stillness about him, almost as if he wasn’t there, as if he didn’t exist.

  ‘Earth to Malik,’ I waved a hand in front of his face.

  The slight line between his brows deepened. ‘Genevieve, we should go in now.’

  ‘What?’ My pulse skittered into my throat. ‘No, just wait a minute; I thought you wanted me to change into Rosa.’

  ‘There are private rooms inside the club.’ Malik caught the back of my elbow and started guiding me towards the entrance.

  I tugged my arm from his. ‘Hold up. I’m going to need clothes too - the shirt’s okay, but’ - I tapped my thighs - ‘these jeans are way too small for Rosa.’

  ‘There are any number of costumes inside for you to choose from, Genevieve.’

  Costumes? He had to be kidding, didn’t he? I shoved the thought away. ‘There’s the goblins too,’ I said. ‘Remember they can sense past the Glamour. Do you really want to advertise the fact you’re bringing me, a sidhe, into the main vamp club?’

  ‘I cannot fool the goblins’ minds, but I can mask their small reactions to you.’ He gave me a considering look. ‘Do you not want to do this, Genevieve?’

  ‘What?’ I frowned. ‘I told you I would.’

  ‘You are delaying us.’

  ‘No, I’m trying to be practicable ...’ My mind froze as he lifted his hand and traced a gentle line down my cheek, then tipped my chin up.

  ‘I may not like this guise of yours ...’ He reached out and wrapped my blonde ponytail loosely round his hand. The magic reacted to his touch, raising goosebumps over my skin. ‘... but it will make it easier for me to cloud others’ thoughts. They will not know you are sidhe. Besides, it is better that Rosa does not make her appearance too soon,’ he said softly, then lowered his mouth to mine and kissed me. His lips were cool, a coolness that invaded my mouth, muted the small throbbing pain of his earlier bite and slipped down my throat like numbing ice water on a parched summer’s day. He raised his head and smiled at me.

  I smiled happily back at him, wanting to kiss him again, to taste him again.

  He took my hand and laced his chill fingers with mine. ‘Come, we will do this together, Genevieve.’

  I blinked at my reflection in the black wraparound glasses of the small Monitor goblin perched behind one of the Blue Heart’s ticket booths. His dyed blue hair stuck up in a spiral from his head like a unicorn’s horn. ‘There you go, miss,’ he said cheerfully as he grasped my fingers and stamped the back of my hand with a blue heart the size of a pound coin. ‘All ready to party.’

  I blinked again. Now I stood with Malik in an empty circle of floor in the middle of the foyer. I looked around with detached interest. It was Saturday night, and the place was heaving. Humans stood in long queues at the semi-circular payment booths, waiting for their own entry stamps, and others waited with bulging baskets at the checkout point in the bat- and pumpkin-decorated gift shop. Yet more gathered at the Blue Artery Bar, where a dark red sludge-like smoothie swirling with toxic orange - enticingly labelled Carotid Cocktail + Scary Shot - appeared to be the hot-ticket item. And opposite the cloakroom was another new addition: a booth where a shorter line of humans waited for Mr Nash, specialist in dental caps and implants ~ Fangs for the night, or for Eternity ~ Hallowe’en exclusives now available. Even those who’d paid still had to queue. They snaked between blue velvet ropes, chattering excitedly while they waited to go through the double doors into the club’s interior. As I peered through the crowd, I could see more humans having their photos taken with either a bare-chested, fang-flashing vampire hunk or a hissing, diaphanously clad Bride of Dracula.

  The fang-fans had to be haemorrhaging money straight into the vamps’ bloated bank accounts at this rate. The expense of their new Gold-Plated Coffin campaign was certainly paying them back big-time, and not just in blood.

  Malik shifted beside me, reminding me how I’d got in here - or rather, reminding me that I didn’t actually know how I’d got in here. I glared down at our laced fingers and jerked my hand from his. ‘Will you stop siccing me with your mind-melds,’ I whispered through gritted teeth. ‘I told you, it bugs the hell out of me. And what was that thing about Rosa not appearing yet?’

  ‘Later, Genevieve.’ He sounded tired as he looked about him, searching for something, or someone. ‘Time is not on our side if we are to achieve both this and deal with your police problem tonight.’

  I frow
ned at him. His face was pale, and the blue veins under his jaw were darker and more pronounced. ‘What’s the matter with you? You look worse then you did five minutes ago.’

  ‘The humans,’ he murmured as an odd, almost panicked expression flickered briefly across his face, ‘they are more difficult to ignore than I expected.’

  Uneasy, I narrowed my eyes. ‘I know you’re hungry but you were fine cooped up in the taxi with me.’

  ‘That is not the same, Genevieve.’ His eyes darkened. ‘You are not food, not as these—’

  ‘Malik al-Khan,’ a woman called, her voice sounding right by my ear, ‘where is she, Malik? You told me you would produce her tonight. The audience is gathered and they will require some explanation if they are to wait for their entertainment.’

  ‘She?’ I asked, narrowing my eyes suspiciously at him. ‘Which “she” is she talking about?’