by Alexis Hall
The temptation was to call her on her bullshit, but Corin’s most seductive and most maddening quality was the way she never broke character. She’d carry on pretending that she was this lost, innocent girl, even when she had a gun to your head. The smartest way to deal with her was to pretend you bought it and hope to get away before she made you forget you were pretending. “Okay,” I said. “You need my help, you got it. Give me a place and a time.”
“King’s Cross. Metropolitan line, westbound. Six forty.”
“Time’s good. Place not so much. Tube’s a bit demony right now.”
“I didn’t know. I wasn’t... I didn’t...”
Fuck. I’d spooked her. “How about Hyde Park. Same time. In the rose garden.”
There was a tense silence.
And finally: “A-all right. But I have to go. I shouldn’t even be speaking to you like this. I... I... I’m sorry, Kate.” She hung up.
I gave Russel his phone back. Chances were good that Corin would never answer that number again. I’d have felt sorry for the guy if he hadn’t been such a complete shit. “Are you done?” he asked.
I was. I took his books like I’d promised Elise I would. There was a convenient little alleyway connecting the front and back gardens, so I didn’t even need to go through the house to get the hell out of there. Russel ran ahead and tried to block me.
“Come on!” he protested. “Do you have any idea how long it took me to work all this stuff out? These are some seriously ancient secrets. You’ve taken my girl, can’t you at least leave me my art?”
Carefully, I laid the books on the floor. “Thing is,” I said, “I’ve had about three friends in my entire life, and one of them’s dead, one of them I haven’t seen in ten years, and one of them—this is Elise by the way—you tried to have crushed in a wrecking yard. And I would really like to beat the hell out of you for that. But I’m trying this new thing where I respect people’s choices, and I’m pretty sure Elise wouldn’t want me to.”
The look in his eyes bordered on contemptuous. “Nice speech, babe. Now give me my books and fuck off.”
“Thing is,” I continued, “you’ve also pissed me off in your own right.” I smacked him in the jaw. “So that’s for getting in my way.”
“You crazy fucking...” He put his hand to his chin and came back towards me.
I kicked him in the gut. “That’s for helping an evil wizard ambush me in my own fucking house.” While he was doubled over, I grabbed him by the hair and brought my knee into his face. “And that’s because I kind of think you’re a prick.”
I picked up the books and left him in a pile in the alleyway. I’d probably made an enemy but hey, it was good to end your day knowing you’d made something.
The carriage was waiting for me outside. One of the infuriating things about faery magic is that it could be so fucking convenient sometimes. Like, seriously, that’s how they get you. It let me out again opposite a bronze statue of Byron on the A402 and I crossed the road into the Park. It was technically evening, but it was still stiflingly hot, and the grass was dotted with picnickers and tourists, lying around in various states of can’t-be-fuckeditude. I’d given us both plenty of time to get to the rendezvous, which now meant that I was stuck in a rose garden in weather I was way overdressed for, waiting for somebody who would probably just screw me over first chance she got. Well, at least I’d brought something to read. Not that I was exactly sure what I was going to do with a stack of ancient tomes about turning statues into sexbots.
I plonked myself on a bench, surrounded by flowers, not quite sure in retrospect why I’d chosen this particular venue. I think my basic line of reasoning had been somewhere central, public and, as far as I knew, not currently controlled by a geriatric hellwitch. But, as I sat there, drowning in the heavy scent of far too many roses, I couldn’t help wondering if my subconscious had been trying to make a point. “Hi Corin, come meet me in this place full of things that are beautiful and fragile and covered in fucking thorns.”
Bang on the minute, I saw her hurrying down the fancy rose tunnel. She kept glancing behind her, as if she was being followed. That didn’t necessarily mean anything—Corin lived her whole life like she was on the run from something, and for all I knew she really was. I occasionally wondered how that must feel, what it must be like to spend every day scuttling from shadow to shadow, latching on to whoever you could, and hoping that they wanted you badly enough to help you but not badly enough to hurt you. She’d made a weapon out of weakness, and she’d done it well, but it wasn’t an option that you chose, it was one you were forced into.
She perched next to me. “I wasn’t sure you’d come. I wasn’t sure you’d trust me. After everything I’ve done.”
“I didn’t have much choice.”
“I meant what I said.” She looked away, but rested her hand gently on my arm. There was something weirdly intimate about it. “I meant what I said about Fisher. He’s been kind to me. I don’t want to—that is—I don’t want to do anything to hurt him.”
Just like she didn’t want to do anything to hurt me, or Archer right up until she shot him. “I need to get the Tears, so that Nim can beat Arty King. It’s best for everybody. Yeah, Mr. Fisher has to live with his injury for a few more years, but me, Nim and half the mages in London get to be not burned alive. I kind of take that as a price worth paying.” It was selfish, but we were talking about stealing something from a guy who stole it from someone who was given it by someone who stole it from someone who stole it from someone who stole it from someone who stole it. It was winding up like the thing with the pheasants in that book where the kid’s dad is a poacher. They basically belonged to whoever had them.
Her eyelashes trembled. “I understand. I mean...that is... You’ll try to be as...you’ll try not to do anything to him?”
“My only quarrel with Fisher is that he has something I need, he got a living statue to punch me in the head, and he was kind of a dick to me that one time. I’ve got no reason to do anything messy unless things go way further south than I’m expecting.”
And that was when the mist rolled in—eerie and silver, making the whole world look unreal. There were three people I knew about who could do that kind of magic. One was Nim. One was Gabriel.
It wasn’t either of them.
Corin looked up at me. “Kate, I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”
For once I believed her. Like, really believed her, not fell-for-her-act-in-spite-of-myself believed her. She never worked with anyone she didn’t think she could control and there was no controlling a guy like Arty King.
I got to my feet and went for a knife, very conscious I was bringing it to a gunfight, if not a guns-and-magical-powers fight. A dozen figures coalesced out of the air and all at once we were surrounded. I recognised Lake, and his version of the Elise series, and a few of the guys from the Undertow.
He gave me an even shit-eatingier grin than he had the last time. “Your mate said we’d find you here.”
“My mate?” I’d say that narrowed it down a lot because, as I’d explained to Russel, I wasn’t exactly over-endowed in that department. But I honestly had no idea who he was talking about.
“Weaselly guy, makes girls. Said you were on your way to meet someone who knew how to get the Tears.”
Wow. Never underestimate the damage that a petty little jerk can do to your life expectancy. I suppose this was what I got for going around punching people in the head. I put my hands in the air in a we don’t have to fight about this even though we absolutely have to fight about this kind of gesture. “Look, whatever you’re here for, I don’t have it. How about we all move on, cut the Stephen King crap, and go about our lives?”
“This her?” Lake glanced at Corin.
“Just a pretty girl I met in the park.”
He casually pulled a phone out of his inside pocket and glanced at it. �
�The guy sent us a photo, you dumb shit.”
Well, fuck. I gave Corin a look that I hoped said stay down, this is about to get nasty, although if her instincts were as good as they usually were I doubted she’d need encouragement.
I wouldn’t normally call on the Deepwild in a public park because the greenery and the fairytale vibe made it a whole lot harder to control. Also: serious risk of casualties. But this wasn’t the time for half measures—I had a wizard, a statue that had taken me out twice already, and a pack of armed shitheads to deal with.
Opening myself to my mother’s realm, I reached deep. A castle choked with briars. A carpet of petals on a mountain of bones. This is my kingdom and trespassers my lawful prey. The little wizard defies me. He will die for it. I spring. Taste his surprise. The sweetness of his sudden fear. His blood in my mouth. Beneath my claws. A sound, loud and sudden. Pain. Hot, then dull, then sickening. I feel the green and the wild slipping away. I lie on a gravel path in a park in London.
Lake crawled to his feet. If there was one thing I hated more than cocky gangster wizards, it was cocky gangster wizards with guns. And if there was one thing I hated more than cocky gangster wizards with guns, it was cocky gangster wizards with guns loaded with iron bullets. He was bleeding from a gash on his cheek that looked like a bite mark. I’d have felt smug that I got the bastard except that trading a few teeth marks in the face for a bullet in the hip was a really bad deal.
“Nice try.” He stepped over me and vanished into the mist, taking his men and Corin with him.
Here lies Kate Kane. Shot in Hyde Park. Beloved daughter, sorely missed.
Chapter Fifteen
Battered & Bleeding
Sometimes, it’s nice when things aren’t all about you. It means you can get on with your life without anybody dicking you about. Other times it means that people leave you bleeding in a park. Now that King’s men had gone, I figured I had a couple of minutes before whatever city-king-mist-magic mojo that had kept the members of the general public away from interfering in their little ambush wore off. The good news was that I didn’t think I’d been shot anywhere fatal. There was a reason they didn’t make bullets out of iron—they weren’t especially effective. I got up, and did the best I could to stop myself bleeding. This was one of those hospitals-will-ask-questions deals, which was awkward. And Elise was still tied up with Lisbeth, and Nim was tied down with the war. That made my options pretty limited, but damned near all of them involved not being face down in a rose garden with blood coming out of me.
This was going to hurt.
I dragged myself back to the carriage. Okay, more hobbled if we’re being super literal. The great thing about this city was that you could pretty much always be anonymous if you had to be. Even if you were a thirty-something woman with a fedora, purple eyes, and a near-debilitating injury. Hell, there was a non-zero chance I’d start a hipster fashion trend if I went into the right pub.
The horses seemed pretty unbothered, which I was taking as a win because I’d been laying fifty-fifty odds on the scent of blood making them go all mares of Diomedes. I’d been pretty explicit that I shouldn’t have to feed them anything weird but I technically hadn’t said anything about them eating people on their own time. When they didn’t flip out, I crawled in and lay down on the floor. Sitting seemed like too much hard work right now.
Despite being magic, horse-drawn transportation was way rattlier than I was currently up for. Also I really needed to contact Nim. Shutting my eyes, I tried to sort of bend my mind towards her. It felt weirdly like praying—not that I’d ever been especially religious. Nobody in my family was. I think my dad’s experiences with my mum had kind of put him off powerful supernatural beings, even the ones with really good PR.
Perhaps I was imagining it, but I felt a hand rest gently on mine.
“King is going for Fisher,” I whispered. “He’ll have the Tears soon and there’s not a lot I can do about it.”
I felt a brush of warm air, the ghost of a kiss. Maybe the message had got through. Maybe I was just way worse off than I thought. Wincing, I did my best to relax while the carriage clattered through the streets. I’d left Russel’s books in the park but fuck them. The world was better off without them anyway. We rolled on, and it dimly occurred to me that, while I never really knew where this thing was taking me, I normally at least had a sense of where I wanted to be. And I suppose I really wanted to be in some kind of expensive hospital, hooked up to a drip of high quality narcotics, or on an exotic island surrounded by hot bikini models who also happened to be fully qualified trauma surgeons. But I didn’t think it was a good idea to hold out for either option.
I was drifting a bit but barely twenty minutes could have passed before we stopped. Hauling myself to my knees, I peered out the window and the first thing I saw was The Velvet.
Seriously, subconscious? This is where you take me?
Out of everybody I knew, Julian was the one who was least likely to be able to help. She had her talents, but last I checked medicine wasn’t one of them. But fuck it, I was tired and in pain and I suddenly realised I really wanted to see her. Although, thinking about it, showing up to meet your vampire girlfriend covered in blood was borderline tacky.
The club was still closed, but there was a fire exit around the back that they seemed never to shut, because as far as Julian was concerned health and safety regulations, like solid food, unsatisfying sexual experiences, and the word no, were things that happened to other people. Inside, everybody was in full setting-up-the-club mode, and while I didn’t like to interrupt them, I kind of needed some help here. I cunningly drew attention to myself by falling heavily into a stack of boxes. The crash brought Ashriel running over, along with a gaggle of employees I didn’t recognise.
“What the? Kate?” His tone was a mixture of concerned and pissed off.
I looked up at him. “I’m going to lie here for a while. Remind me that I owe you a drink.”
“Shit. Somebody get Julian. And the first aid kit.”
It was around this time I gave myself permission to pass out.
When I came to again, I was lying on Julian’s chaise longue. I wasn’t exactly feeling better, but I didn’t have quite the same foggy-headed feeling, which suggested that somebody had got the iron out. Julian was kneeling beside me, gently stroking my hair.
“Dear me, sweeting. You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”
I propped myself up on my elbows. Honestly, it still hurt like hell, but I was almost ready to start thinking and talking. “You don’t know the half of it.”
In a swift, fluid movement, Julian slithered onto the chaise beside me. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Are we doing story time again?”
“No.” She sounded a lot less playful than she usually did. “I really do want to know what happened. Not to be melodramatic, but you just fell through the doors of my club with quite a serious injury. And Ashriel tells me you’ve been making some rather worrying enquiries about his place of origin.”
I lay back and put my head in her lap. “Yeah, I kind of visited Hell.” I tried to sound offhand about it.
“I wish you hadn’t, darling. That place has a way of putting its hooks in one.”
“Had a child to rescue. Seemed like the thing to do.”
She raised my hand to her lips and kissed my fingers. “I know. You’re terribly brave and chivalrous. But the Inferno doesn’t mess around. Believe me, I know whereof I speak.”
“Your nuns were probably a bit biased.”
“I’m being serious. In the few days you’ve been beaten, shot and visited one of the worst places in creation. I’m used to my relationships ending in fireworks, sweeting. Not with the girl getting wiped out in some ugly brawl in a carpark.”
“Regular park.”
“Stop changing the subject.”
“Oh, you l
ike it that I have my own stuff going on.”
She ran a fingertip over my brow. I shifted a little into her touch. “Tell me about the fight.”
“Guy called Lake. Had a pack of goons, a magic statue and a gun loaded with iron bullets.”
“Thank you.” Her fingers began to wind idly in my hair. “You understand that I am quite tempted to kill him.”
That was tricky. On the one hand I didn’t like my lovers doing things for me. On the other hand my life would get way easier if some of Arty’s men dropped dead of sudden and extreme blood loss. I compromised. “You know that’d put you in the middle of an actual gang war.”
“A magicians’ gang war. Do you really think that I’m going to let some pissant little sorcerer shoot my girlfriend with no reprisals?”
I sat up and swivelled painfully around. It was nice, having a partner who shared your interests, it meant you always had something to talk about. The less nice thing was that you spent a lot of time talking shop. “If you’re going to do this,” I said, “would you mind doing it...sort of...officially?”
“Formally ally with the Witch Queen?” She sounded like I’d suggested she fuck a chicken. “Why on earth would I do that?”
“I don’t want you to shake hands for a photo op. But—how can I put this in a way that will make sense to you—I kind of think war is like sex, it goes way better if you communicate.”
She tilted her head slightly. “Curious. I always thought war was like sex because it goes way better if you’re me.”
“Point being, if you’re going to trash this guy anyway, and I’ll be honest it would be great if you did because I really don’t want Arty King to wind up controlling the city’s mystical shadow, it makes sense to work with the other people who are also trying to trash him.”