I wrapped my arms around my head and curled into a tight ball. Less than a minute passed while the magic bubbled with exhilaration though my blood, chasing away the residual aches and soreness, leaving my heart pounding. A burst of golden light spread out from my skin, shimmering soft and dew-like before dissipating in the air.
Who knew brownie magic could feel so good?
‘I heard you could do that.’ Finn spoke close to my ear, his voice tinged with satisfaction. ‘Absorb the magic, instead of cracking it or just pulling it apart.’
I rolled limply onto my back, the most movement I could manage with the power still settling inside me, and found him kneeling next to me. I gazed up at him. Tiny emerald flecks flared deep in the moss-green of his eyes. Speculation flickered across his features. And there was something else, some other emotion ... respect maybe, or awe?
‘Genny?’ His tone was soft and low.
‘What?’ I murmured, fascinated by the way his mouth moulded my name.
‘How much magic can you call?’ He bent over me, warm berry-scented breath caressing my face. ‘More than this?’
I frowned, his questions confusing, unexpected. A thought pricked through the last haze of the power high: this had been a lot of magic. But before I could pin my vague suspicion down, Finn scooped me into his arms, stood and held me tucked tight against him.
Adrenalin and need shot through me. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ I snarled, pushing my hand against his chest, feeling his heart thump beneath my palm.
‘Hell’s thorns, Gen, what d’you think I’m doing? That was a lot of juice you took.’ Hurt flickered on his face, then it was gone and he grinned. ‘I’m only trying to help you, my Lady.’
‘Fine. Well put me down. I can stand on my own, thank you.’ I glared at him. ‘And cut out the “my Lady” crap too.’
‘No problemo,’ he said cheerfully and placed me on my feet. I decided maybe I’d imagined his hurt look.
Ignoring him, I dusted myself down as best I could, trying to catch the odd thought I’d had, only it was quite gone.
A polite cough behind me made me turn. Agatha stood there, hands clasped primly in front of her, eyes staring somewhere past my knees. Holly hovered behind her, a green toothy grin spread across her face. At least someone was enjoying the show. Mr Manager had a slightly stunned expression on his face, but he must have been one of those humans who just take magic in their stride, or maybe blank it completely, as Finn cornered him easily enough with the paperwork.
‘Maself is glad thee came to our aid, Lady.’ Agatha twisted her fingers, but didn’t look up at me.
I crouched down. ‘I was pleased to aid you, Aggie.’ She looked up and I caught a glimpse of fear in her eyes. ‘Holly’s going to be fine.’ I patted her shoulder, but when she flinched, I realised I was the cause of her fear, not Holly.
Damn. Nothing like a magical exhibition to let you know your place in the world.
I told Finn I’d wait outside whilst he finished up with Mr Manager.
Standing on the hot pavement, staring at the clear blue of the sky, I let the heat of the day burn away the air-conditioned chill of the restaurant. The magic fizzed and churned restlessly inside me. I dug into my bag and pulled out three liquorice torpedoes, stuffed them into my mouth and crunched down hard, shuddering as the sugar hit my system. The magic ate it up—the sugar makes it easier to control—and I willed it into a sleepy calm.
The trees along the edge of the road rustled in the slight breeze as Finn strolled out and joined me. ‘Remind me not to take a brownie job again,’ he said, a hint of laughter in his voice.
‘If I remember right, you didn’t.’ I teased, but my heart wasn’t in it. ‘This was my job. You just came along for the fun of it.’
He stepped in front of me, close enough that I had to look up at him. ‘Not for fun, Gen.’ He traced a finger along my jaw, an intent, almost hopeful expression in his eyes. ‘To get to know you better.’
I dropped my gaze to the base of his neck, my mouth watered and I had to stifle the urge to place my lips on the smooth tanned skin that stretched over his pulse. Shit. The need was getting stronger, less easy to deny. And I didn’t know why. But why wasn’t the problem here. I took a step back, holding up my hands.
‘Not biting, Finn.’ Mentally I rolled my eyes at my own Freudian slip.
‘Speaking of biting, that was rather interesting, what you told the little faeling.’
‘What did I tell her?’
‘About how we fae taste to vampires.’ His eyes lit up. ‘Wonder what flavour you would be?’
‘I already told you, don’t wander. You’ll only get lost.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ He looked at me speculatively. ‘Oranges, maybe,’ he mused.
‘Red hair? Oranges?’ I huffed, striding off. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. Soooo not original.’
Finn matched his pace to mine. ‘You’re right; oranges are much too ordinary. Umm, what would ... Figs maybe? Now they’re supposed to be sexy.’ Shaking his head, he slid an arm round my waist and pulled me to a stop, smiling. ‘Ah, got it—sweet, exotic, hard knobbly shell—gotta be passion fruit.’
I gave him my hard knobbly elbow in his ribs. It connected with a satisfying thud.
‘Speaking of food,’ Finn gasped as he bent double, ‘how about dinner?’
Only if he was on the menu. I shook my head. It wasn’t even a euphemism. I had a moment’s fantasy where I said yes: we went out, had fun, and I didn’t spend the evening wanting to rip into his throat. Then I sighed and came back to live in the real world. No way could I go out with him, or any other fae, not with 3V running riot through my veins. Being fae, Finn would feel its taint in me—if I let him get too close—then he’d run for the nearest faerie hill, not to mention I’d be out of a job.
He caught up with me. ‘C’mon Gen, you’ve got to stop torturing me like this.’ With a rueful smile he rubbed a hand over his stomach, then winked. ‘Or at least say yes, then you can do whatever you want with me.’
Way too enticing. ‘Finn, you’re a nice guy, but ...’ I trailed off as disappointment darkened his eyes, echoing my own silent regret, then I made myself carry on. ‘I’m sorry, but getting personal is not—’
A stiff wind hurled itself along the road, snatching the words from my mouth and rushing up through the branches above us.
Finn placed a finger on my lips, silencing me.
I moved back. ‘Look, I’m really not—’
‘Genny, it’s okay.’ He half-smiled. ‘I get that you’ve said no, but it’s not that.’ He waved an anxious hand at the road. ‘It’s the trees. I think they’re talking about you.’
Another gust whipped past us and the canopy of autumn leaves rustled almost like they were laughing.
I frowned and looked at Finn. ‘What are they saying?’
‘Hell’s thorns, Gen, how should I know? I never learned the language.’
Chapter Four
Dusk coloured the sky like a purple bruise as I headed for my meeting with Alan Hinkley at Old Scotland Yard Police Station, the headquarters for the Metropolitan Police’s Magic and Murder Division. The bodies of vampire attacks, like Melissa’s, are contained in the specialised basement morgue ever since the mandatory fourteen-day waiting period came into force—just in case they spontaneously do the Lazarus thing. Old Scotland Yard is also the one-stop-cop-shop for vampires. Keeping a vamp incarcerated is difficult enough without adding humans into the mix. The only time it was tried—back in the eighties when the vamps were reclaiming their human rights—the riot lasted a week and a vampire ended up on an impromptu bonfire, together with a prison guard and three other inmates.
That the vampire was proved innocent, post-death—a tarnished silver lining or a kamikaze-inspired martyrdom, depending on your point of view—became the catalyst for all sorts of changes.
As I turned off Whitehall, leaving the noise of the traffic behind, a horse’s high-pitched whinny mad
e me jump—Old Scotland Yard is also home to the Met’s horses—and I slowed, uneasy in the quiet. A tree rustled as I passed it. Was Finn right, were they talking about me? But why would they? Then the leaves of the next tree stirred and the air trembled in response. Goosebumps rose on my skin, even though the heat of the day hadn’t dissipated with the night and I looked up into the branches, but they were empty. I blew out a breath. Damn. I usually avoided being out after dark like this, trees or no trees. You never knew who you might bump into.
I lifted my bag over my head, settled the strap across my chest to free my hands and slowly walked under the archway that led to Old Scotland Yard. Alan Hinkley was waiting by the police station door. Along the pavement, the street lights created pockets of shadow. As I got closer, one shadow was darker, more solid than the others. My heart tripped and I stopped, staring into the blackness.
The vampire stepped out into the light and stared back.
His appearance was almost a relief.
I played statues, counting under my breath, using my own will to force my pulse to a slow steady thump. It was harder to pull off than I thought. Damn, I was so out of practice. Instinct shouted at me to flee. Bad idea. Never run from a vamp, gets them too excited, all that blood pumping faster and faster. Better to take the gamble that they won’t attack and wait until they’re gone. Of course, that attitude does have its minus points.
‘Genevieve Taylor.’ His chin lifted as he scented the air.
His accent carried a touch of something, not English. Black hair curled into his neck, even blacker eyes glinted, their almond shape hinting of the East. His face was the prettiest I’d ever seen, alive or undead, and a distant part of me wondered why it wasn’t plastered over every billboard in town. And why I’d never seen him before.
I shook my head even as I thought it. It didn’t matter who he was, not when I could feel his mesma brushing against my mind. I looked past him to Alan, but the blank look he wore had ‘vampire mind-lock’ written all over it. No help there then, not that I had really expected any. In fact, he was going to be more a hindrance if there was going to be a fight.
‘Perhaps Mr Hinkley should wait inside?’ I said, keeping my voice steady.
Alan turned and disappeared through the door without the vampire so much as twitching. I was impressed despite myself, and had to concentrate even more to keep my pulse at its slowest beat.
‘How interesting.’ His voice rolled around me, as rich as sugar-dusted Turkish delight, making my mouth water.
I tilted my head to one side. ‘Not from where I’m standing. ’
The vampire had obviously been young when he’d accepted the Gift, near my own age. His suit was ubiquitous vampire-black, but he must have pulled the darkness around him to hide his pale face and hands. Even without the evidence of Alan’s departure, that trick alone told me he was old, over five hundred, at least. And he looked like he belonged to the classic Armani style rather than the excess of black leather that the younger vamps preferred—not that I could be sure without checking the designer labels, but I wasn’t planning on getting that close.
‘Your eyes are truly remarkable.’ Smooth silk slipped along my skin as his gaze swept over me.
Damn vampire mesma. I gritted my teeth and tried to block it.
‘Your website picture does you an injustice. You are so much more in the flesh and ... blood.’
‘Sorry I can’t return the sentiment.’
He gently shook his head. ‘Tut tut, Genevieve.’ He took a step towards me. ‘You really don’t mean that. Not when I have been waiting especially for you.’
I hardened my voice. ‘Then you’ve wasted your time. My visit’s with the police, not you.’
He took another step, fast, calculated to spook me. I swallowed hard, but held my ground. He stopped within touching distance. Long slim fingers brushed a lock of hair from his forehead while he studied me. ‘Intriguing.’ Half-closed eyes gave him a sleepy, enigmatic look. ‘Why would you involve yourself in something not your affair?’
‘It’s really none of your business.’
‘But that’s where you’re wrong, Genevieve.’ The words drifted lazy and sweet through the air. ‘You see, this really is my business. I am tasked with bringing this little episode to a satisfactory conclusion for all concerned. I will do better without your ... help.’
When what he had said sank in, rather than the dream of his voice, surprise tumbled through me, banishing the feeling of languor that had seeped into my bones. ‘Who says your conclusion would be satisfactory for everyone?’
He grinned, letting me glimpse fang, a push of mesma inviting me to go along with the joke. ‘Why, I do, of course.’
‘Uh-huh.’ I nodded slowly. ‘Sounds good.’ I gave him a smile. A wide happy beam of a smile.
Satisfaction lit his face, but before he could speak, I dropped the smile. ‘Only it doesn’t sound quite good enough.’ I winked. ‘But hey. Nice try.’
He laughed, and the sound bubbled through me like champagne. I shivered even as sweat trickled down my spine. I gripped the strap of my bag with both hands, holding it like a life-line, concentrating on keeping him out of my mind. The longer he talked, the more the back of my neck throbbed, reminding me I was more vulnerable than usual.
‘Genevieve.’ He shrugged an elegant shoulder. ‘What are we to do now?’
I stared at him, surprised. ‘You’re asking me?’
He indicated the police station. ‘Once you walk through that door, you make yourself defenceless.’
For a moment part of me actually felt he cared. I bit the inside of my mouth, hard, to banish the feeling.
‘You dispense with all that wonderful witch protection you have carefully cultivated.’ He spread his hands wide. ‘You are fair game.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know.’
‘Are you so eager to offer your blood?’
‘What do you think?’
‘Such bravado.’ He glanced at the door again, a vague anxiety in the action. ‘But even your sidhe magic will not shield you from some amongst us.’
‘Are you done yet? Because so far I’m not hearing anything new.’
He sighed, the sound coating me with remorse. ‘Go home, Genevieve, while you still can.’
‘What? Just leave?’ I stopped strangling the strap of my bag and clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms, determined to resist the impulse he’d given me to go home. ‘When you haven’t even threatened me yet?’
Something dark and sad appeared in his eyes, then it was gone, hidden by the same enigmatic look as before.
‘Threats ... Coercion ... Violence.’ The words hung like blades in the still air. ‘Is that what you would want?’
I froze, pulse speeding up, unable to move or speak, gazing into his eyes. A voice screamed in my mind, yelling at me to break his mesma, but another part of me wanted, desperately needed, whatever he was offering.
Cool fingers circled my left wrist and lifted my still clenched fist between us. My hand moved, seemingly of its own volition, opening like a flower before the sun. Blood welled in the half-moon marks across my palm, bright against my skin.
‘May I?’ His eyes echoed the silken seduction in his voice.
My lips parted in a sigh as my head bowed in submission.
Anger flashed across his face and his fingers squeezed, the bones in my wrist grating with the pain. ‘Say. It.’
‘Yes,’ I breathed.
For an instant his pupils glowed red and my heart fluttered with sudden terror, then he dipped his head. I gazed at the line of his jaw, the long dark lashes, the sleek silk of his hair where it curled round the intricate whorl of his ear, its lobe pierced through, a single gem black against his pale skin. His lips caressed my palm, a shudder rippled through his body and I felt an answering shimmer resonate through my own. My eyes closed as he licked hot lines along my hand. Sharp fangs scraped my wrist and chill air kissed my bare skin.
Leaves
rustled in the stillness and a horse whinnied from the nearby stables, startling me out of my reverie.
I opened my eyes to an empty street.
The vampire was gone.
I stared down at my palm. The cuts from my nails had disappeared, healed over as though they’d never been. A bracelet of bruises around my wrist was the only evidence of his presence.
‘Genevieve.’ My name whispered through the breeze.
I swung round fast, searching, then stopped, muscles trembling as the terror hit me again.
Fuck.
I hugged myself, breathing in the scent of spice and liquorice that fragranced the air, trying to ignore the sharp, craving ache inside me. Why had he gone? And why had he been angry when I’d offered him my blood? It didn’t make sense.
‘Ms Taylor?’
I jerked again, spinning towards the voice.
Alan stood holding the door to the police station open. He said something, but I couldn’t hear past the pulse thundering in my ears.
Damn vampire. If he thought he’d scared me enough to stop me ...
I took a deep breath, rubbed my hands along my arms to smooth the goosebumps, and walked up the steps into the police station.
Chapter Five
‘ There’s a bit of a hitch here,’ Alan said anxiously. ‘I’m not sure you’re going to be able to see Melissa’s body tonight.’
‘Why not?’ I asked, then frowned. Was the vamp still playing with Alan’s mind? I reached out, laid my hand over his and sent a tendril of magic into him.
Alan started. ‘What are you doing, Ms Taylor?’
‘Checking,’ I muttered.
His hand was warm, the skin a little rough under my palm, his pulse was faster than normal, but the tangled net of his thoughts told me he was free of the mind-lock. Whatever commands the vampire had given him were done.
I flashed him a relieved smile and gave his hand a quick squeeze. ‘Why don’t we go inside and you can tell me what the trouble is.’
Alan wrapped his fingers round mine, as if seeking reassurance. ‘You will help, won’t you?’
The Sweet Scent of Blood s-1 Page 4