Bitter Seed of Magic (9781101553695)

by Mcleod, Suzanne

  I hugged him harder. ‘It’s not your fault, Finn,’ I murmured.

  ‘I’m sorry, Gen.’ He moved to meet my gaze, his face drawn and desolate. ‘I should tell you not to have anything to do with the suckers. Instead I’m going to ask you . . . no, beg you, please: do whatever it takes to find Nicky.’

  My throat constricted. ‘I will, I promise.’

  ‘Whatever it takes, whatever they want, Gen,’ he whispered fiercely. ‘I’ll do it. Just save Nicky.’

  I headed home. Hugh gave me an escort of two uniformed police trolls: Constable Taegrin, his polished black face glinting cheerfully with specs of gold, and Constable Lamber, whose mottled beige headridge was rough and cracked with age. Trolls, like goblins, are impervious to vamp mind-tricks, although unlike goblins they can’t sense any magic. But I didn’t need them to. Magic wasn’t going to be the problem.

  In a way, I didn’t think Malik was going to be either, or at least not how Hugh envisaged he might be.

  ‘You’ll be careful, won’t you, Genny?’ Hugh had said, doing his father-figure bit. ‘A bit of advice: I know you’re upset about Finn and his daughter, but put all that out of your mind.’

  I told him I would.

  ‘It’s going to be sunset before everything else is ready, so don’t rush, and remember to keep your wits about you. Don’t let Malik al-Khan make you do anything you don’t want.’

  I knew what he meant. He thought Malik would want blood and sex, because that was what vamps did. Me, I wasn’t so sure, Malik hadn’t exactly taken me up on any offers in the past, in fact he’d been at pains not to. Now, I thought that might have something to do with his deal with Tavish, whatever it was. But unlike Hugh, I wasn’t worried if it came down to blood or sex, or both. After all, when I’d accepted his protection, I’d sort of expected they’d probably be part of the deal at some point, and it wasn’t like I was totally averse – in fact, part of me, the non-thinking part, would be . . . enthusiastically ecstatic about it all. Not to mention I was going to do whatever it took to make the plans happen. Which started with climbing up five flights of stairs.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ I gasped in answer to Constable Taegrin’s solicitous question as I doubled over and leaned against my front door, trying to catch my breath.

  Taegrin gave me a look that said he didn’t think I was (both trolls had taken the stairs like pros, but then, they hadn’t been half-killed by a rabid vamp last night). But once I was breathing easy again, Taegrin nodded, and he and Lamber followed me into my living-room-cum-kitchen.

  A stiff breeze barrelled through the bedroom door, telling me the window in the room was wide open. I’d left it closed, with the heavy oak wardrobe in front of it. Malik was obviously awake, despite sunset being four hours away. Tension knotted my stomach, and I stopped a good couple of feet away from the bedroom door, with the two constables hovering attentively at my back.

  The rug I’d left Malik wrapped in, Cleopatra-style, was now rolled up tight and sitting neatly on the floor at the end of the bed. Beneath the bed my shoes and boots were (creepily) lined up in what looked like style, heel height and colour, and the heavy wardrobe was back in its original position.

  I looked. The blood-Ward still drifted above the threshold. When I’d drawn the Ward, it had sprung up like a golden fog; now it was as thin and insubstantial as a summer’s mist. But it was still working. Relief slipped through me; with the Ward trapping Malik as well as the daylight, I had a better chance of pulling this off. I stepped further to my left to get a better view of the room.

  Malik was on the bed, propped up against the headboard, looking relaxed and unconcerned, with his leather-clad legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His chest was still bare, and his pale skin gleamed almost unnaturally in the dim room. His pale, perfect face was set in his usual enigmatic expression, and his part-Asian eyes were black and unreadable as they met mine. Damn, but he was pretty – maybe even more so with his shorn hair.

  ‘Genevieve, I am delighted to see you.’ His not-quite-English accent was mocking. His gaze raked over the two trolls. ‘And to make the acquaintance of your . . . friends.’

  Showtime.

  Chapter Forty

  I lifted my lips in an equally sardonic smile. ‘I hope you’re enjoying my hospitality?’

  ‘I believe I would enjoy it even more if you were to make it less restricting.’ Pinpricks of power flared for a second in his dark eyes and I had to stifle the urge to go to him.

  ‘That’s not something I’m prepared to do just yet,’ I said, in a reasonable tone, ignoring the nervous itch pricking down my spine. ‘First, I want to negotiate a deal.’

  His lips quirked. ‘What if I do not wish to negotiate?’

  ‘Do you remember what I once said to you if you refused?’

  ‘Yes.’ The word slipped like cool silk over my skin. Mesma. My pulse sped.

  ‘Same thing still applies, Malik: if you’re not willing to negotiate, then I will kill you.’ Always supposing I can, I added silently.

  ‘How could I forget such a promise, Genevieve?’ he said softly. ‘In truth, I was surprised to wake and discover myself not only undamaged, but also somewhat protected.’

  My eyes flickered to his foot. The burn wound was gone. Briefly I wondered how he’d healed it without blood. And how hungry he might be. Still, not my problem – yet.

  He carried on, ‘Threats lose their force if one does not intend to carry them through to their logical conclusion, Genevieve.’

  ‘Your death wasn’t the most logical conclusion . . . this time,’ I said in a flat voice, then added with a cheerful note, ‘Nothing personal, of course.’

  ‘No, I imagine it was not.’ He smiled, flashing fang. ‘Of course, with me gone there would be none to stand between the vampires and the fae.’

  ‘That was a consideration,’ I said drily. ‘But there’ll come a time when the fae no longer need your protection, Malik. Then I will make it personal.’

  ‘Ah, but then there would also be none to stand between your sweet blood and the Autarch.’

  I strangled my instinctive terror before it could take hold. ‘I’ll take my chances.’

  Something dangerous surfaced in the dark depths of his eyes. ‘Do not fool yourself that because the Autarch ignores you now he has forgotten you.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I hold no illusions about the Autarch,’ I said, ‘just as I no longer hold any illusions about you.’

  He arched a brow. ‘I could order you to take down the Ward, Genevieve.’

  ‘You could, but to do that, I’d have to physically pass through it.’ I lifted my hands to indicate the silent, watchful trolls either side of me. ‘My friends here have been ordered not to let me.’

  ‘It seems I am destined to stay here in your bed then.’ He stretched, raising his hands above his head, and a darkness of a different kind swam in his eyes.

  I stared, transfixed, as lean, hard muscle moved under his pale, perfect skin. Lust coiled in my stomach, need throbbed between my legs and images flashed in my mind about how pleasurable ‘staying in my bed’ could be. I curled my fingers into fists, digging my nails into my palms, and used the brief pain to drive him out of my head.

  He sighed, the sound lancing like sharp sorrow into my heart. ‘Despite your assertion that you do not want me here.’

  I wanted him, needed him, needed to go to him—

  Two weighty hands descended on my shoulders, holding me in place. I blinked and took a shaky breath. I scrubbed my hands over my face. Damn vamp nearly had me that time. I let the two constables know that it was okay to let me go.

  ‘Maybe you should be more concerned about what you want than about what I don’t,’ I said, struggling to keep my voice level. ‘Now let’s see, what was it? Oh yes, “My value lies in being alive, uninjured, and not in the possession of a vampire”.’ I quoted his words back at him. ‘“By agreeing to keep me that way, you gain a powerful ally in the kelpie”.’ I smiled, ba
ring my teeth. ‘Where do you suppose Tavish stands on me being in the possession of a witch?’

  He stilled. ‘Why?’

  ‘One of them tried to kidnap me today.’

  ‘The attempt was not successful.’

  ‘Obviously not. But the next one will be. I’ve made sure of it.’

  He moved, too fast to see, and was standing in the doorway, hands braced against the wooden jamb, staring at me, his gaze intense.

  I took half a step back before I could stop myself, then gritted my teeth and put my foot where it had been. I stared back at him.

  ‘Explain, Genevieve.’

  The order clamped round my mind like a steel trap and it took everything I had not to babble uncontrollably. Instead I forced myself to calmly tell him the whole story, along with Hugh’s proposal to flush Victoria Harrier out to get answers and enough evidence to get a search warrant to find the missing faelings. I left out one small pertinent detail: that it wasn’t going to be me as the sacrificial kidnap victim, but my doppelgänger.

  ‘Of course,’ I said finally, ‘you could order me not to get kidnapped, but . . .’ I looked to the two troll constables standing stoically either side of me. ‘I’ve already agreed to the plan. It will go ahead with or without my cooperation. So you see, it’s going to be difficult for you to keep your valuable property safe when that happens. Especially if you’re still stuck in my bed.’

  Malik folded his arms nonchalantly across his chest. ‘If you have already agreed to the plan, why are you here?’

  ‘Two reasons. The first is this.’ I held up Helen Crane’s note, or rather, the copy Hugh had given me.

  Malik read it, then gave me his usual impassive stare. ‘Continue, Genevieve.’

  ‘Agree to help me with this, and I will give you my word that I won’t let the police use me as bait for Victoria Harrier. I will also give you my word I won’t try and kill you for a period of one year, or until the fertility curse is cracked, whichever comes first.’

  ‘An incentive to sweeten the deal.’ His mouth lifted in amusement. ‘How interesting. I could, of course, order you not to kill me.’

  I folded the note and tucked it back in my jacket. ‘It’s always an option, but even if you did, sooner or later I’d find a way to get round it, or any other order you give me. Just like today,’ I finished pointedly.

  ‘It appears we have reached an impasse then, Genevieve.’ His expression closed off. ‘This is witch business. The Ancient Tenets agreed between the vampires and the witches prohibit me from becoming involved.’

  ‘Which brings me to the second reason.’ I held up another, longer letter, one of the ones I’d asked Juliet Martin to give me in exchange for my blood. ‘Dispensation from the Witches’ Council.’

  He read it, then said, ‘It states that you as my proxy have agreed to your blood, of which I am named as owner, to be used in three specified spells. In return there will be no retribution for any action I have taken, or may take in the future in any endeavour involving witches that is deemed by the police to be beneficial to either their enquiries, or to the public good.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘ “Actions I have taken” of course refers to the affair involving Mr October.’

  I nodded.

  Six months ago, one of the hot celebrity calendar vamps – Mr October – had been accused of murdering his girlfriend. His human dad had asked me to prove his son’s innocence. By the time the ashes had settled – the ashes being the remains of two ambitious vamps, one who had tortured Finn, and a rogue witch who’d been instrumental in causing the girlfriend’s death – Mr October had been cleared of all charges, and the case closed.

  Only the girl’s real murderer was standing in front of me.

  Malik had killed her to protect all the parties concerned, and he knew I could prove it. Human law doesn’t allow for extenuating circumstances when vamps murder humans, and the witches would be charging up their broomsticks for attack if they discovered they’d burned one of their own at the stake – never mind she’d richly deserved it – for a crime a vamp had actually committed.

  Now if I wanted him dead, I didn’t need to do it myself, or worry he’d find some way to stop me. I could just do the whistle-blowing thing, and it would be the police, a.k.a. Hugh and his trusted, incorruptible colleagues, who would hold Malik’s life in their hands.

  Malik looked at the two uniformed trolls, then inclined his head. ‘This is both dispensation and threat. I commend you, Genevieve.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘DS Hugh Munro has the relevant “in the event of my death” letter, although at this point my death or otherwise is not part of the deal. If you agree to help, he will leave the letter unopened for one year. If you don’t, then these two constables will wait until dawn, then take you into custody, at which point DS Munro will open the letter and act accordingly.’

  ‘A year,’ he said, considering.

  ‘Yes.’

  He nodded, shifting back slightly. ‘And how do you intend I should help you, Genevieve?’

  ‘Information, using your clout with Maxim to get him to talk, and back-up.’ I leaned towards him, baiting the trap, and breathed in his dark spice scent, certain now he would agree. ‘I’m open to all and any ideas so long as it helps find out what’s going on, and puts an end to it, hopefully with none of the good guys being badly injured or dead.’

  ‘Then it might be advisable not to waste any more time.’ He shot a hand out through the Ward, yanked me into the bedroom, kicked the door shut and slammed me against the wall in the same motion. He buried his face in the curve of my neck and inhaled deeply.

  Chapter Forty-one

  Heart pounding, I shoved at Malik, surprised when he backed off. ‘How the hell did you break through the Ward?’

  He smiled, flashing fang. ‘You used a blood-Ward against a vampire you have freely given your blood to. The Ward holds me in place, but it also stretches with me.’

  Which was exactly the warning Ricou had given me when I set the Ward: it was designed for protection, and that meant anyone inside it with a blood connection could do what Malik had done and stretch it; with enough will and time, they could even break it. And the Wards completely lose their effectiveness on your kids once they hit puberty, Ricou’d said in disgust – not that Malik needed to know I knew any of that.

  ‘You came too close,’ he said, placing a hand flat against the wall on one side of my head and leaning into me, ‘now, tell me what it is you require from me, Genevieve.’

  Constable Taegrin’s voice called through the door. ‘Genny! Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine, and he’s agreed,’ I shouted, so they’d leave us alone. I narrowed my eyes at Malik. ‘Haven’t you?’

  ‘I have agreed to continue the game you have started. Notes and letters, or should I say, insubstantial carrots and sticks? If you were truly going to “allow” yourself to be abducted, you would have done so without giving me the opportunity to oppose it.’ He leaned closer, almost close enough to kiss, and breathed his next words against my mouth. ‘What is it you want, Genevieve?’

  I put my hand on his chest. His heart wasn’t beating, and oddly, it reminded me of Finn’s heart thudding against my cheek, and why I was here. I pushed Malik back so I could look him in the eyes, then dropped my hand. ‘Helen Crane’s been tampering with evidence to cover the murderer’s tracks – but Helen’s disappeared. That note says she can no longer protect Maxim’s son, which means that his son is almost certainly the murderer. I want you to use your Oligarch powers and make Maxim talk to the police, and get him to tell them everything he knows.’

  ‘This is what you have deduced from Helen Crane’s note.’ He picked up a strand of my hair, twisting it through his fingers.

  ‘Well, from that and other things, like Francine’s and Maxim’s memories that the Morrígan showed me,’ I said, trying not to notice the way my scalp tingled.

  ‘And who do you think is Maxim’s son?’

  ‘I’m not s
ure, but I think it might be the manager at the Coffin Club: Gareth Wilson. He’s the right age and colouring . . .’ I trailed off at the mildly interested look on Malik’s face. My gut twisted in frustration. ‘He’s not, is he?’

  ‘No.’

  Damn. Sometimes a straight answer isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I didn’t bother asking him how he knew; if he had any doubts, he would’ve been more evasive.

  ‘Who is Maxim’s son, then?’ I asked.

  ‘I do not know.’

  Another frustratingly straight answer. ‘But he does have a son?’

  ‘It is something I can neither confirm nor deny.’

  I sighed. He was holding out on me again. Shame the ordering bit only worked one way. And disappointing as it was that my suspicions about the murderer had been a leap in the wrong direction, it wasn’t necessary information. All I had to do to stop the killer and save Nicky and the other faelings was to put our master plan into action. Simple. Now I just had to convince the aggravating, much-too-beautiful vamp whose elegant fingers were still playing with my hair and still sending tantalising little tremors over my skin, to help me.

  ‘The police are mounting an undercover operation,’ I told him, and revealed the one pertinent detail of my supposed abduction that I’d omitted first time around: Constable Martin and the Doppelgänger spell.

  ‘She is a police officer,’ he said indifferently as he ran a hand down the sleeve of my leather jacket. His touch seemed to burn against my bare skin – mesma – and I studiously ignored it. ‘She would not do this unless both she and her superiors felt she were capable,’ he finished.

  ‘Yeah, I know. But while she’s pretending she’s me, I could make use of the distraction.’ I took a deep breath and mentally crossed my fingers. ‘I want to sneak into the Tower, locate the entrance they’re using, then crack the magic holding it closed. At which point London’s finest can swarm in and sort it all out.’