The Sweet Scent of Blood s-1

by Suzanne McLeod

  ‘Why would I be angry with you, Aggie?’

  ‘The spells.’ Her fingers twisted in her floral smock. ‘I dinna ken they were so many, not until thee took them.’

  Narrowing my eyes, I took a step towards her. ‘What spells?’ She flinched back and I stilled, not wanting to frighten her. Then I remembered Finn’s little test. ‘Aggie, you’re not worried about all that extra magic that Finn added, are you? He was just being tricksy with me; it wasn’t your fault.’ I stuck my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. ‘Is that why you were unhappy afterwards?’

  ‘Maself is awfy sorry.’ Her sand-coloured face creased up even more. ‘I’ve bin worrid stoopid, thee might think I’d tried to deceive thee, Lady.’

  ‘I’m not angry, okay?’ I smiled, lips tight together. ‘Now what is Holly’s message?’

  ‘The wean telt me to bring thee to her.’ Her small nose wrinkled up. ‘Her friend be wanting to ask thee something, Lady.’

  I shook my head. ‘Aggie, I’m sorry, but I just don’t have the time right now. I know it’s Sunday, but it would take nearly an hour to get to the restaurant and another to get back, even today.’

  ‘Twill only take a wee minute or two.’ She held out her small hand to me. ‘We’ll go Between—only thee will need to be quiet, mind.’ She shook her hand eagerly at me, a slyness creeping into her expression. ‘The Lady Meriel would be pleased if thee would come.’

  Meriel of Lake Serpentine—the Lady of the local naiads, a group of water fae—and supposedly not someone to be messed with, not that I’d ever personally met her.

  ‘Why would Lady Meriel be pleased?’

  Aggie gave me a smug smile. ‘The Lady be Holly’s ma, o’course.’

  Holly was Meriel’s daughter? Well that explained why Holly had Aggie looking after her—and why it was probably a good idea to go and see what Holly wanted. No way could I afford to alienate any of the local fae, not while I still had a chance.

  ‘Hold on two secs, Aggie.’ I walked over to my computer, scribbled a note to Hugh and stuck it on the screen. When I turned back round, Aggie was peering into a cupboard. She swung round, smock billowing, a disapproving scowl on her face. ‘Thee has nae food, Lady, nothin’ but a jar o’ sweeties and some salt.’ Tufts of her hair stuck up. ‘Tis nae way to be runnin’ a kitchen.’

  ‘Maybe you can help me then,’ I said, an idea popping into my head. ‘I’ve still got all those spells I took from your kitchen, Agatha, but I can’t seem to make them do anything.’

  ‘Och well,’ her scowl faded, ‘I telt thee, a brownie’s touch goes to them that needs it. The magic will nae be leaving you until you’ve nae more need of it’—she patted her chest—‘for the sadness in here, Lady.’

  Well, that sort of explained it ... ‘Thank you, Agatha,’ I inclined my head, ‘it was kind of you to tell me.’

  ‘Humph.’ She closed the cupboard door with a firm snap. ‘Are thee ready then?’ she asked, offering me her small hand.

  Hesitating only slightly, I placed my hand in Aggie’s. ‘I still need to get back as soon as,’ I warned.

  ‘Och, I’ll see you wherever, nae worries. Hold tight an’ quiet, Lady.’ She took a breath, lifted her foot—

  A loud popping sound reverberated in my ears. Aggie’s fingers squeezed mine painfully hard. My flat took on a misty hue. Pressure buffeted me as winds blew from every point. A ghostly image of a different kitchen flashed past. Then another, where the ethereal figure of a young boy sat, head bent over his colouring book. Two more unoccupied rooms and then the indistinct sight of an old man, socked feet propped on a stool, holding a china teacup to his mouth. The pressure increased, making it hard to breathe. A semi-derelict room with a broken butler’s sink. A steel band clamped round my chest. A hazy, red-faced woman wiped a floury stain across her forehead with the back of her wrist. The force on my body was almost nbearable as the stronger outlines of the next kitchen took form around us: stainless steel tops, commercial ovens, stacks of white china ...

  ... Aggie put her foot down, released her grip on my hand. ‘Here we be, safe and sound.’

  I stumbled, head spinning, stomach churning like a food mixer.

  She grabbed my hand again, patted it. ‘There ye go.’ A sudden warmth cleared my mind. ‘The brownies’ trail is a wee bitty fast for some, mebbe.’

  I took a look around. We were in Aggie’s kitchen at the restaurant. ‘Well,’ I gave her an impressed look, ‘that’s certainly one quick way to get across London.’

  ‘Och, away with ye.’ Her wrinkled face pulled up in a smile. ‘Now go an’ see ma wean and her friend.’ She gave me a shove on the backside with her small hand. ‘They’re in there.’

  The interior of the restaurant was dark, the blinds drawn. I stood for a moment letting my eyes get accustomed to the dimness.

  Holly waved at me from the darkest corner of the room.

  I took half-a-dozen steps, then my feet faltered. Her ‘friend’ was Louis, the French Psycho vamp from the police station.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  What was Psycho Louis doing here? More to the point, what was he doing up? The late afternoon sun was still blazing outside; I’d been counting on the vamps not being around until after dark.

  ‘Genny,’ Holly waved again, ‘it’s great that you could come, isn’t it, Louis?’

  As I got to the table, Louis half-stood and bowed his head. ‘Mademoiselle, Enchanté.’ He sank tiredly back. The lace at his throat and wrists was startlingly white against the rich green velvet of his jacket, and a matching velvet ribbon caught his tawny hair loosely at his nape. But the burn mark from the police’s spelled silver circlet was still a livid line across his forehead; maybe healing wasn’t one of his powers.

  Holly clutched his arm. She’d threaded her own black waterfall of curls with green satin ribbons, and pulled her peasant blouse down to leave her creamy shoulders bare. She gave me a wide grin, her sharp, triangular teeth gleaming like phosphorescence, and I had a sudden thought that maybe Louis had bitten off more than he could swallow.

  ‘Louis has to ask you something.’ She turned an excited face to him. ‘Only he doesn’t speak English very well, do you?’

  ‘Non, mon coeur.’

  She giggled. ‘He calls me his heart, isn’t that just so cool? After you were here, me and Aggie had a real bust-up and Dad insisted—’

  ‘Dad?’ I interrupted.

  ‘It’s Dad’s restaurant. I’m working fulltime now I’ve finished school. You met him.’

  Right: Mr Manager with the shiny shoes.

  ‘Anyway’—Holly squeezed another nonexistent millimetre closer to Louis—‘Dad insisted we go and see Mother.’

  ‘The Lady Meriel.’

  ‘Yeah. Mother said it was okay for me to date Louis as long as he came and talked to her first.’ She tugged on his arm like a child with a new toy. ‘Isn’t that great?’

  Louis nodded back. He might not speak the language, but he appeared to have no problem understanding it—or maybe he was just interpreting Holly’s enthusiasm. It wasn’t hard to follow.

  He broke in with a voluble torrent of words, then said in a thick accent, ‘You tell pleeeze, mon coeur.’

  She nodded. ‘He wants to apologise for the misunderstanding in the police station. He realises now that this country is much nicer than he was told. I think some of the other vamps had a bit of a joke with him, told him that the police were all stake-happy or something.’

  I gave Louis a sceptical look.

  He flashed me an arrogant smirk, complete with sharp white fangs. Whatever Holly’s mother had got him to promise might make him safe for Holly, but the psycho part was still there, just itching to get out. I hoped Holly’s mother had made the agreement watertight—or rather, bloodtight.

  ‘Anyway, Louis’s not here for very long. Once he’s finished his job, he’s got to go back to France. Dad and Aggie aren’t too happy about us seeing each other, but Mother says, what better way for me to lea
rn about’—she lowered her voice, a deep blush colouring her cheeks—‘about sex, than with someone that’s got a good three hundred years’ experience?’

  Louis gave a self-satisfied lift of his lips.

  ‘And Mother’s even arranged somewhere with children for Aggie, now that I’m grown up, so she’ll be happy and won’t end up breathing down my neck all the time.’

  I thought Aggie was far more likely to breathe down Louis’ neck, or maybe sic him with some of her nasty little brownie magic. But it looked like everyone was getting something they wanted, even the vampire. So what was I doing here, because it sure as hell wasn’t just for Psycho Louis to apologise?

  Holly opened her mouth, but Louis interrupted with an elegant lift of one shoulder that reminded me uncomfortably of Malik and said, ‘I wish you to find she-witch.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what he wants me to ask you.’ Holly grinned. ‘See there’s this witch that used to work for his boss, only she doesn’t any more, for some reason. But he’s got to find her and talk to her.’

  I sighed. ‘Tell him I’m not a detective.’

  Holly rattled away to him.

  In answer, Louis reached into his jacket and produced a small photo.

  ‘That’s her,’ exclaimed Holly. ‘That’s who he wants you to find.’

  Louis held out the photo to me. ‘Is this what he was asking me at the police station?’

  Louis nodded, staring at me, his eyes full of disdain. ‘The Earl, he want finding she-witch himself. For reward.’

  So Louis hadn’t developed a sudden desire for Detective Inspector Crane. I ignored his outstretched hand. ‘What reward?’

  He slid the photo across the table. Curiosity got the better of me and I gave it a quick glance.

  It was a headshot, face on. The witch looked to be somewhere in her twenties or thirties; it was difficult to put an age on her because she was so fat. She’d succumbed to sugar abuse, trying to boost her magic too far past its natural abilities. A mass of brown hair hung either side of her face and her mouth had a pinched look about it. Her bright blue eyes would have been her main feature, but the pads over her cheekbones made them look too small. I’d never seen her, only—

  Louis threw another stream of words at me.

  Holly gasped and leaned forward, peering at the photo. ‘He says that she is a very powerful, dangerous witch, that she’s killed, using magic. He thinks she might be hiding amongst the other witches, but she’s got 3V, so she might be coming to HOPE. He wants you to see if you can find her before she kills again.’

  Louis fished something else from his jacket and placed it next to the photo.

  ‘He says the witch will not be harmed,’ Holly translated. ‘He just wants to talk to her. There is some information his boss needs.’

  Yeah, right. Like I was going to believe that.

  I looked at the piece of paper. It was a cheque, payable to me. I swallowed as I read the number of noughts. That would go way past ending my employment worries.

  ‘He wants to know if this is enough payment. If not,’ Holly squeaked, her eyes rounding like saucers, ‘he says that whatever you desire he will get. More money, gems, stocks and shares, property, whatever.’

  My head jerked up in surprise. Shit. He really was bringing out the big incentive guns. ‘What’s so important about this information?’

  Holly looked at Louis, then reported, ‘His boss has some sort of sickness and she has made a spell that makes him better.’

  Of course he was after the spell, just like all the other vamps. It hadn’t taken much to work that out. And now I’d discharged my debt to Declan, I didn’t need to look for it, but ...

  ‘Ask him what the spell actually does?’ I told her.

  Louis shook his head, lips pressed tight together, as Holly said, ‘He doesn’t know.’

  Or wasn’t about to tell me, more like! I tapped my finger on the photo. Psycho Louis was the first vamp to ask me to find a witch and not the spell—none of the other vamps had mentioned a witch. Did that mean they didn’t know about her? Or—Of course! How stupid could I get? She was a witch, and even if they did know who or where she was, they had no way of reaching her other than through the Witches’ Council—so they’d gone for the next best thing. Me.

  What was it the Earl had wanted? He’d wanted me to find the spell and absorb it. And I was betting that whatever the spell did, it wasn’t something cute like producing fluffy bunnies from top hats. Maybe he thought I could regurgitate it in one piece ... although thinking about it, he wasn’t far wrong—which made me wonder just exactly where the Earl had got his information about me. I shoved that thought aside for later.

  But if Psycho Louis was here for the spell, then why was he wasting his time playing kissy-face with Holly? Okay, she was a faeling with a powerful mother, and she probably tasted good, but ... Something nagged me, just at the edge of my memory.

  I picked up the photo—maybe I could use it to get me into Inspector Crane’s good books—and pasted on a fake smile. ‘Can I have this?’

  Louis nodded with enthusiasm.

  I tucked it into my waistcoat pocket and stood up. ‘Holly, tell him the answer’s no. In fact’—I picked up the cheque, tore it in two—‘that will save you the translation.’

  Louis’ brows knitted together and he glared up at me. ‘Meestake. You make bad meestake.’

  Leaning down, I placed my hands flat on the table. ‘Not in my book, mate.’ I looked at Holly, clinging open-mouthed to his arm. ‘I hope your mother knows what she’s doing.’

  I left them and strode back into the kitchen. ‘Time to go, Agatha.’

  ‘She’ll be back in a couple of mins.’ Mick was slouched in a heap on the floor. His red hair hung wet and dripping down his neck, and something I decided not to look too closely at was smeared across one cheek and down one side of his long coat.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here, Mick?’

  ‘I’m following you, of course,’ he sniffed. ‘Aggie’s gone to sort out one of her kitchens. I messed it up when I came through.’ He wrapped his coat tighter round him. ‘Jeeesus, I hate the brownies’ trail, it always makes me want to puke.’

  I crouched down, frowning. ‘Why are you following me?’

  He looked sideways at me. ‘Y’know you asked Fiona about the spell?’

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ I said flatly, ‘she’s remembered all about it now.’

  ‘Okay, I won’t.’ His bottom lip stuck out and he said petulantly, ‘You should’ve asked me, Genny.’

  ‘So why didn’t you say something back there?’

  He gave a sulky shrug. ‘You weren’t very nice about Seamus.’

  Rolling my eyes, I said, ‘Fine. Mick, I’m sorry I was nasty to you and Seamus. Now, what about the damn spell?’

  He sniffed again. ‘It does something to turn fae into a sort of battery pack for a vampire. The vamp gets a big boost from it; he doesn’t need to touch or even feed, apparently. Specially if it’s someone powerful, like you.’ He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his skinny neck. ‘Only it’s got some hitches. It doesn’t always work on faelings, or else some of them die. And the vamps still can’t get us in a mind-lock.’

  Fuck. I’d been right: the spell was definitely not fluffy bunny rabbits.

  Then the nagging memory about Holly caught up with me.

  I glanced around. It was here, in the kitchen. I’d been getting ready to call the brownie spells, the ones cast by Aggie and Finn. Holly had stood in the doorway, the light misting behind her. Only it hadn’t been light, it had been the spell.

  Holly had had the spell in her—Louis must have tasted it when he’d fed on her—the spell the vamps were looking for.

  And I’d called it from her.

  I almost laughed; I hadn’t needed to find the spell. I’d had it all the time.

  Holly flung herself through the swing doors. ‘Louis says he’ll double his offer to one million.’

  Then another memo
ry hit me. I’d seen the spell again, earlier today, in fact, when it had been misting round Finn.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The Rosy Lee’s kitchen took shape around me, the high-level grills and deep fat fryers coming into sharp focus. My feet touched tiled floor and Agatha’s small hand melted from mine. I gasped for breath as my stomach tumbled in freefall. I took another step and lurched forwards, landing on my hands and knees, staring down into a face I’d hoped never again to see this close.

  Gazza, the Cheap Goth, sneered up at me. For a moment I half-thought I was back in the alley with him as blood and snot bubbled round the safety pin in his broken nose. He groaned, and revulsion made me scramble backwards. Then I stopped.

  Thin black rope was wrapped tight round his body in neat, equally distanced circles. A precise line of knots ran from under his chin down to his ankles. He thrashed violently, groaning again, but the sound was muffled and I realised there was something stuffed in his mouth.

  What the—? Someone had trussed him up like a side of beef ready for the oven. I poked him in stunned amazement.

  He made more angry sounds and the bloody snot expanded, then splat against his skin.

  A noise behind me had me jerking round to see Freddie rushing into the kitchen, one of his carving knives hefted in his right hand. He rushed towards me and I dived and tucked myself under the prep counter. He swerved to follow me.

  ‘Slow down, Freddie,’ I yelled, keeping my eye on the knife.

  I was almost sure he wasn’t out to get me, but you don’t take chances when a twenty-stone chef is running at you brandishing over a foot of gleaming steel blade.

  ‘Genny, thank God you’re here,’ he wheezed. ‘I’ve been trying to call you.’ He bent, gasping, hands on his knees. ‘You weren’t answering your phone.’

  ‘I’m here now, Freddie,’ I said, keeping my voice calm, ‘so put the knife down, okay?’

  He glanced down, obviously baffled to see the knife in his hand. It clattered to the floor. ‘Sorry Genny.’ He smacked his hand on his bald head. ‘God knows, but I just didn’t know what to do.’