by Helen Harper
‘Uh-huh.’ I nodded as we started back down the street towards his house. ‘Has she opened up to you at all? About anything?’
‘She told me that shortbread was for losers and that if biscuits don’t have chocolate on them they don’t count,’ he said. He pointed at the bottle. ‘Will that help with the memory magic thing?’
‘I hope so,’ I muttered grimly. ‘Rose and I need to have a serious chat and I’m done with all the prevarication.’
Vincent blinked. ‘Prevari – what?’
‘Don’t play dumb,’ I told him. ‘It doesn’t suit you.’
He smirked. ‘But I like it when people underestimate me. It makes it easier to manipulate them.’
‘There’s an old-age pensioner in your house who thinks the exact same thing,’ I said. ‘And she’s far better at manipulation than you are.’
He winked. ‘Why do you think I like her so much?’
I tutted then held back as we reached his front door and he put the key in the lock, wiggling it until there was a click. ‘Honey!’ he yelled as the door opened. ‘I’m home!’
I was pleased to see that Rose looked far healthier than she had this morning . She sniffed in acknowledgment as Vincent entered the room. When I followed him and she caught sight of me, she threw a mug at my head with such swift fluidity that I only just managed to duck in time. I still ended up splattered with lukewarm tea.
‘Who the feck are you?’ she screeched.
Vincent sighed. ‘Rose,’ he said, ‘this is Saffron. You’ve met her before. She brought you here. You saw her this morning when she put you into cardiac arrest.’
I glared at the ex-drug dealer. ‘That’s not helpful.’
‘It’s the truth, isn’t it?’
‘I ain’t stupid!’ Rose yelled. ‘Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I’m a fecking idiot! You’ll be old one day and then you’ll see what it’s like!’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘Get this woman out of here. I don’t know who she is and I don’t want to know.’
‘As Rose has managed to destroy her cup of tea,’ I said, ‘I’m going to put the kettle on and make another one.’ I looked round, suddenly nervous. ‘Where’s Pumpkin?’
‘How do you know about my Pumpkin?’ Rose snapped, as the dog’s questing nose appeared from underneath a cushion. He fixed his beady eyes on me but, for once, seemed to decide that I wasn’t worth the effort. I almost smiled. Maybe I was getting somewhere after all.
I bent down and picked up the shards from the smashed mug. ‘I’ll go sort that tea,’ I said quickly and vamoosed into the kitchen before Pumpkin changed his mind or Rose decided to lob something at me that was altogether more lethal.
When I returned, she had settled back in her chair again. Pumpkin was on her lap. He lifted one eyelid as I entered but otherwise didn’t react. Yep. Definite progress. Maybe memory magic didn’t work on animals.
Even Rose appeared more relaxed. Clearly Vincent had some sort of magic touch – either that or Homes Under The Hammer was such compelling television that my presence no longer mattered.
‘Here,’ I said, holding the steaming cup towards Rose, ‘drink this.’
‘Not a fecking chance,’ she growled. Okay. Not quite so relaxed then. ‘For all I know, you’re trying to poison me.’
‘I’m not,’ I said. ‘I promise.’ To add weight to my words, I took a sip of the tea. The gingko biloba gave it a bitter aftertaste but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. ‘Now you have it.’
‘You’ve just drunk from my cup,’ Rose said. ‘That’s unhygienic. There’s no knowing what I’ll catch. I ain’t going to fecking drink from it now, am I?’
I’d ram the stuff down her throat if I had to. ‘Drink,’ I said. I forced a smile. ‘It will make you feel better.’
‘Go on, Rose,’ Vincent urged. ‘It’ll do you some good.’
Grumbling, Rose took the cup, clutching it with both hands. To avoid appearing too eager and once again discouraging her from drinking the damned tea, I sat down in the chair opposite and gazed at the television screen. There was a young couple engaged in the strenuous activity of taking down a wall with a sledgehammer. It looked like excellent therapy. I watched for a few moments, listening to the sound of Rose slurping.
‘Tastes funny,’ she muttered. I glanced over. She glared at me. ‘Are you sure this ain’t poisoned?’
‘It must be because of your pills, Rose,’ Vincent said soothingly. ‘They’re bound to make it taste odd.’
‘Stupid fecking things,’ she muttered. ‘They’ll be the death of me. And I don’t want to die doped up to my eyeballs. I want to be clear-headed and fighting, not doddery and weak.’
My head turned slowly towards Vincent. ‘Her pills?’ I asked. My voice sounded squeaky and high-pitched. He looked at me in surprise.
‘Yeah. She left them behind in her old place so I got a new prescription. I put the order in this morning. They had half of them in stock but I had to pick up the remainder after they’d been ordered in. Why else do you think I was at the pharmacist?’
Oh no. Dread tingled at my spine. I stared at Rose and the tiny smile playing around her thin lips. ‘You idiot,’ I breathed.
Vincent looked hurt. ‘Me?’
‘All of us.’ I leapt to my feet. ‘We need to get out of here. Now.’
‘Why?’
Because I’d heard Art Adwell say that he might be able to use Rose’s medication to track her down. He was a highly-placed politician; he could probably get his filthy mitts into just about any damned database he wanted to. Judging by the expression on Rose’s face, she knew it too.
‘You might be desperate to confront him,’ I snapped at her, my fury rising, ‘but that doesn’t mean you have the right to put the rest of us at risk.’
‘I don’t know what the feck you’re talking about,’ she said, indicating with her hands and a complete lack of subtlety that I was off my rocker.
‘Was it her name on the prescription?’ I demanded of Vincent.
‘Yes, but…’
‘Then,’ I said, ‘we are leaving. Come on.’
Pumpkin yipped a warning bark to tell me that I’d better calm down and stop disturbing his mistress. I gave him a long look, telling him that I’d transform him into a stuffed toy again if he didn’t restrain himself. He subsided long enough for me to scoop him up and thrust him into Vincent’s arms. Then I hauled Rose up to her feet.
‘What are you doing, you feckwit? Get your hands off me!’
‘Shut up,’ I snapped. I glanced down at her cup. She’d drunk more than half of the contents. That would have to do. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Vincent darling,’ Rose quavered, ‘what’s happening? Why is this strange woman acting like this? I’ve not done anything wrong.’
‘Drop the act,’ I said, pulling her to the front door and opening it so I could peer out. The only passer-by was a jogger, whose red cheeks and glazed eyes filled with pained exertion discounted him as a suspect.
‘Whose address was on the prescription?’ I asked, turning to Vincent. ‘Was it this one?’
He was standing behind us, Pumpkin in his arms and a befuddled look on his face. ‘No. It was Rose’s address. I told them she was visiting on holiday for a few days.’
I exhaled. That was something. If Art Adwell was indeed keeping tabs on Rose’s medical records, he would have the name of the pharmacist but nothing else. He’d have an idea of the area but not the exact location. That gave us time.
‘Saffron,’ Vincent said plaintively, ‘are you going to tell me what’s going on?’
I went to the pavement, pulling a protesting Rose with me. ‘There’s no time. Do you have a car?’
‘No.’ He stepped out behind us.
Pumpkin was starting to whine, making Rose frown excessively. ‘I insist that you let me go immediately!’ She raised her voice. ‘Help! Fire! Help!’
‘Shut up!’ I hissed. I pointed down the street, away from the pharmacy. ‘That way,’ I said deci
sively. ‘We’ll catch a bus or something.’
‘Saffron…’ Vincent began. Then his voice faltered.
I glanced back and saw him staring at the opposite end of the street. A black saloon car had pulled up outside the pharmacy and three men were getting out of it. I recognised two of them. Fuck a puck.
‘They’re here for Rose,’ he whispered. ‘Am I right?’
‘You’re not wrong.’
Rose opened her mouth again and I knew she was about to holler at them. Honestly, the damn woman had a death wish. I clamped my hand over her mouth to stop her from giving us away.
‘Garages,’ Vincent said, finally recognising the danger. ‘Turn left at the end of the street.’
I was already moving that way. ‘I thought you said you didn’t have a car.’
‘I don’t. I’ve got a motorbike though.’
Good enough. I set my jaw just as there was a loud shout behind us. ‘Oi! Stop!’
They’d seen us.
Chapter Eighteen
Wasting no more time I spun, grabbed Rose’s waist and hoisted her into a fireman’s lift. Then I started running as fast as I possibly could. With only Pumpkin to worry about, Vincent hauled ass and quickly overtook me. There was a sharp crack and a cloud of dust appeared from the wall on the right-hand side.
‘They’re shooting!’ Vincent yelled. ‘They’re fucking shooting at us!’
‘I know,’ I yelled back. ‘Just bloody run!’
‘You’re the one with magic, faery. Do something! Stop them!’
I pelted forward, my head down. Rose had started to caterwaul loudly. ‘Let me go! I’ll deal with those bastards myself!’
Yeah, yeah. ‘What do you want me to do, Vincent? I can’t kill them.’
‘Turn them into fucking frogs or something!’ he shouted.
I rolled my eyes and kept running. As if transformation magic like that was an easy thing when you were carrying a protesting pensioner and trying to run for your life. All the same, I used my free hand to pull out my wand and hold it in front of me. I’d have to think of something if we didn’t get to that motorbike soon.
We veered round the corner. I could see the small row of garages that Vincent had been talking about. Flicking my wand, I sent out enough magic to make each garage door rise up. They creaked and groaned but they did as I needed. Ahead of me, Vincent sprinted past the first two doors and ducked into the third one. Panting, I came up behind him with Rose. He was already on the bike and heaving it out.
‘Let me at ’em!’ Rose screamed. ‘I’ll show them!’
‘Shut. Up.’ I lowered her and all but forced her onto the back of the motorbike then took Pumpkin from Vincent and thrust the little dog into her arms. ‘Hold onto your damned dog,’ I told her, before getting on behind her. My arse only just fit but I wasn’t budging.
I reached round and grabbed onto Vincent’s biceps, creating a barrier that would prevent Rose from doing anything stupid like leaping off. My wand remained clutched awkwardly in my fingers. ‘Start the engine!’ I shouted. ‘Let’s get out of here!’
The first of the three men rounded the corner. Vincent thumbed the starter button and I tensed, preparing to hang on for dear life. The engine spluttered for a second or two before dying again.
‘Vincent…’
‘I know!’ he shouted. ‘I’m trying!’
The other two men appeared just as the first one reached for his gun and raised it. It was the scarred bastard from the cottage. He squinted and prepared to shoot.
I twisted my fingers, concentrating on my wand. I managed to angle it correctly and a wave of magic bounced through the air. The ground beneath them shook, knocking the scarred man and one of his buddies off their feet. The tremors reverberated in our direction, jolting the bike as Vincent attempted to start the engine yet again.
The third man was reaching inside his leather jacket. I twisted my wand, this time aiming for the motorbike. The right magical boost would have us speeding away in seconds. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get it pointed in the right direction. I muttered out a curse.
‘Rose,’ I said in her ear, ‘if you get off this bike, I swear I will turn both you and your dog into garden gnomes.’ I pushed myself off and pointed the wand at the bike again. ‘I’ll see you at the place we first met,’ I said to Vincent. ‘If I’m not there by six o’clock then I’ve not made it.’
‘Saffron!’ Vincent shrieked, his features strained with fear.
I flicked the wand. This time the motorbike’s rusty old engine started with a purr. ‘Go!’ I yelled.
I turned towards the three men. I was pissed off now and I wasn’t about to run away from them a second time. Instead I was going to put them out of action for as long as I possibly could.
I heard the motorbike rev and skid away. I smiled. ‘Come on, you bastards,’ I whispered. This would be a piece of faery cake.
I switched my wand from one hand to the other in a deft movement that I liked to think was threatening.
‘Wotcha planning to do with that, girly?’ the scarred man sneered, not a flicker of recognition on his face. ‘Jab me with it? Poke my eye out?’
I smiled then twisted my wrist, aiming at the loose gravel on the ground. ‘Actually that’s not a bad idea.’ Several of the small sharp stones flew upwards at such velocity and with such force that the scarred man didn’t even have time to raise his hands to shield his face. I wasn’t a complete monster: I only directed them towards one of his eyes, rather than both.
He screamed in agony, his legs giving way as he dropped to his knees. ‘She’s blinded me! That bitch has blinded me!’
His two companions were warier now – and less willing to waste time on me. ‘Finish her and get after the old woman,’ the nearest one snarled.
The other man reached behind his back, sliding out the gun he’d stuck in his waistband where no doubt its muzzle had been nestling between his arse cheeks. I wasn’t sure that was entirely sanitary. I made a face and flicked my wand again, heating the metal of the gun to an unbearably hot temperature.
‘Fuuuuuuuuuck!’ He dropped the gun and stared in horror at his hand. Ugly red blisters were already forming on his skin. He stared at them and then at me. ‘Who are you? What did you do?’
The last man was white-faced now. Yeah. They were finally starting to get it. You should never, ever mess with a faery godmother.
He held up his hands, palms facing outwards. ‘Alright,’ he said. ‘You can go. We won’t stop you.’
He had that right. It had been easier than I’d thought it would be. And rather fun. Maybe Rose wasn’t such a bad client after all. Except then the man’s eyes flicked to something behind me. My stomach dropped and I started to turn but it was already too late.
Something hard came down on the back of my head. I had just enough time to feel a burst of pain before the world slid sideways and everything went black.
***
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been out for but it was long enough for Art Adwell’s goons to drag me back to Vincent’s house. When my eyes fluttered open and I woozily looked around, I realised I was in the same chair that Rose had been sitting in earlier. Disconcertingly, Homes Under The Hammer was still on the television.
‘I do like daytime television, don’t you?’ Art Adwell drawled. ‘Of course, I don’t get much time to enjoy it these days but when I do get the chance I find that it gives me an interesting glimpse into the lives of ordinary people.’
He knelt down so his face was level with mine and gave me a brilliant, polished smile. I had the bizarre thought that he was angling for my vote. Then he backhanded me, his palm cracking across my cheek.
I gasped, tears forming in my eyes. My fingers fumbled for my wand but there was no sign of it. I blinked and looked at Art Adwell again. He was twirling it in one hand like some kind of majorette.
‘Is this what you’re looking for?’ he enquired. He swished it one way then another before pointing it in my direction and
jabbing it towards me. ‘Abracadabra!’
I flinched, more out of the proximity of the wand’s pointy end to my eye than out of fear that Adwell would conjure up anything. He wasn’t a faery and he wasn’t magical. The wand wouldn’t work for him any more than it would for Pumpkin.
‘My men tell me that you used this to perform feats of magic.’ Adwell pursed his lips. ‘I don’t believe in magic so I don’t believe my men. They are prone to flights of fancy, especially when they’re bested by a small woman with ridiculous poodle hair. It’s not the eighties any more, you know.’ He snickered. Ha bloody ha. From somewhere over in the corner, his men dutifully laughed.
‘You’ve got them well trained,’ I croaked.
Adwell grinned. ‘They know their place.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Some people still have to learn theirs.’
I licked my lips. There were several ways out of this situation; all I had to do was choose the best one. I wasn’t scared – not yet, anyway. Unfortunately, Adwell seemed to recognise this. ‘Go on then,’ I said. ‘What’s my place?’
Adwell continued to regard me with amusement. ‘I’m not sure yet but I’ll tell you as soon as I know. So,’ he said, in the same breath, ‘what is your connection with Rose Blairmont?’
I could have lied but there didn’t seem much point. ‘I’m her faery godmother.’
At least he didn’t laugh. ‘She’s a bit old to be Cinderella, isn’t she?’
‘Every time.’ I sighed. ‘Every time I mention to a human that I’m their faery godmother, they bring up Cinderella as if she’s the be all and end all of wish recipients.’ I shook my head. ‘You really have no idea.’
‘Go on then. Enlighten me.’
I shifted in my chair, aware that my limbs still felt sluggish and heavy. I didn’t want to practise any wand-less magic until I absolutely had to. Unlike Jasper, it was incredibly difficult for me and for most other faeries to wield any sort of magic without the aid of a wand. I could do it but there were often severe physical consequences. Given that I was already weakened, I had to be careful and choose my moment.