by Helen Harper
‘There’s no point,’ I said, answering him for now. ‘You won’t remember this conversation.’
There was a snort of derision from the corner. Adwell ignored it. ‘And why is that?’ he asked, acting like he was nothing more than mildly curious.
‘There’s magic bound up in my being that means you’ll forget all about me before too long. You won’t even remember that I exist.’
‘Bullshit.’
It was my turn to smile. ‘It’s true. I’m officially working right now. And when I’m officially working, I’m covered by memory magic. Call it a kind of insurance against discovery.’ My smile grew. ‘We’ve already met once today, up north in Rose’s cottage.’ I sent him an enquiring glance. ‘How did you get here so quickly?’
‘Helicopter,’ Adwell returned, without missing a beat. It actually seemed that he believed all that I was telling him. That was unusual. ‘After we torched the cottage and watched it burn to the ground. You?’
‘Magic,’ I replied, wincing at the thought of Rose’s home being destroyed.
The politician watched me for a moment.
‘Boss,’ one of his goons said, ‘she’s obviously nuts. Can’t we just kill her and be done with it?’
‘You already tried that,’ Adwell said absently. ‘It didn’t work.’
I wondered if he thought I was immortal as well as magical. Impervious to bullets. And pain. Then I remembered that he’d managed to knock me out so he was well aware that I wasn’t invincible. The throbbing ache in the back of my head reminded me of that very fact too.
I stared at Adwell as he stared at me. What did he want? I had the uneasy feeling that he was looking for more from me than information about Rose’s whereabouts.
He straightened up and started to wander around the room. ‘It’s not the most salubrious of surroundings, is it? Do you live here?’ he asked me. ‘With Vincent…’
‘Hamilton,’ one of the other men supplied helpfully.
Adwell nodded. ‘Ah yes. Hamilton. You know, we’ve not had much chance to investigate him yet but you should be aware that he has several convictions for possession. He was banged up for dealing drugs as well. I’m not sure he’s the sort of company you should be keeping.’ He paused. ‘What is your name, anyway?’
It made no difference to me if he knew it or not. ‘Saffron,’ I said. ‘Saffron Sawyer.’
He scratched his chin. ‘Are your parents hippies?’
‘Nope.’ I smiled helpfully. ‘Faeries. And I don’t know Vincent all that well. But I’ve learned over the years that you shouldn’t judge someone by how they make a living. After all,’ I continued, ‘you’re supposed to be an upstanding member of parliament and look at you.’
One of his men hissed but Adwell just laughed. He was enjoying himself far too much, I decided. Perhaps he was some kind of psychopath. It wouldn’t surprise me.
‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘Indeed.’ He picked up an old book, its pages curling at the corners, and flipped through it before tossing it down again. ‘And you say you make your living as a faery godmother.’
‘I do.’ I lifted up my chin. ‘I’m very good at it. In fact, I’m probably the best there is. Don’t tell anyone else, though – my work colleagues do tend to be a bit jealous.’
‘Work colleagues who don’t recognise another’s brilliance can be irritating, can’t they? I know what that’s like.’ He met my eyes. ‘I think we’re kindred spirits, you and I.’
I doubted that very much. ‘Well,’ I said, making an effort to get to my feet. ‘It’s time I should be going. I have various appointments to keep and I do hate being late. I’ve already been lined up for time-management training as it is.’
Adwell blinked. ‘You have training?’
‘I’ve got to keep on top of my game, Art!’ I said cheerily. ‘Nice meeting you again.’ I looked at him hopefully. ‘Could I perhaps have my wand back?’
One of the men from the corner moved, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder and forcing me back down into the chair.
‘Careful, Henry,’ Adwell murmured. ‘We don’t want to bruise her.’
Considering that it had been probably been Adwell who’d thumped me on the back of my head, and it had definitely been him who’d slapped me hard across the face, that was a daft statement. He seemed to realise it because he smirked at me and lowered his voice, keen to make me think that he was letting me in on a special secret. ‘Do what I say,’ he said, ‘don’t do what I do. That’s what makes me so brilliant.’
‘Good for you,’ I muttered, leaning back. I hadn’t really expected him to let me waltz out without a backwards glance but my little stint on my feet had given me the opportunity to assess the current state of both my health and energy. Apart from a slight rush of blood to my head that made me dizzy, I was feeling better than I’d expected. Another few minutes of quiet recuperation and I reckoned I’d be strong enough to make my move and get the hell out of here.
‘So,’ Adwell said in a light chatty tone that was far more intimidating than guttural, threatening snarls could ever be, ‘what does being a faery godmother entail? Are you helping Rose to find her Prince Charming? Because I’ve got to tell you, I think the time for that has passed.’ He crouched down again. ‘Unless,’ he mused, ‘you can reverse the aging process.’
‘We’re not allowed to mess with Mother Nature,’ I said stiffly. It bothered me that Adwell’s expensive aftershave smelled good; by rights, the aroma wafting from him should have been akin to the reek of cat sick. ‘We can’t heal life-threatening injuries or diseases, nor can we create or prolong life. We can help with gaining access to proper medical treatment, though.’
Adwell rocked back on his heels as he mulled this over. ‘So you can’t cure Rose.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘She’s still dying.’ He smiled happily. Yep, he was definitely a psychopath. ‘That’s good to know. But if you’re aren’t helping her with her health, what are you helping her with? Please don’t tell me you’re assisting her in her quest to bring me down. I’m beginning to like you, Saffron. I don’t want to make an enemy of you.’
‘I don’t know,’ I told him honestly. ‘I’m still trying to work out what Rose is wishing for.’
‘Are you?’ He appeared fascinated. ‘And how many wishes does she get? Why her?’
Bloody hell. So many questions. I’d just about had enough of playing nice and I was starting to feel a lot stronger. It was time to plan my exit. ‘Maybe,’ I said, ‘you should tell me what your interest in Rose is.’
‘She’s a cold-blooded assassin who’s far more dangerous than she looks,’ Adwell answered without missing a beat. ‘You should be careful around her. Frankly,’ he added darkly, ‘the likes of her don’t deserve any sort of wishes or magic or faery godmothers.’
I swallowed. ‘Could I…?’ I licked my lips. ‘Could I perhaps have a drink of water?’
‘Aw.’ Art Adwell gave me a solicitous smile. He reached behind him to the small coffee table and picked up the mug of gingko biloba infused tea that Rose had abandoned earlier. ‘Here you go,’ he said. ‘Drink this.’
‘I’d prefer water.’
Adwell shrugged and gave the cup a sniff. ‘This is just tea. It’ll do you good. It’s a bit cold now but we don’t want to rummage through Mr Hamilton’s cupboards looking for a glass, do we, boys? The man’s a drug dealer. Anything could be lurking in there.’
‘Reformed drug dealer,’ I said through gritted teeth. I held out my hand for the cup. It was better than nothing, I supposed.
The politician didn’t notice. ‘I could do with a drink myself,’ he said. ‘Interrogations do have that effect on me. If you don’t want this, I’ll have it.’ He sniffed at the tea again and raised it to his mouth.
‘Stop!’ I squeaked.
Adwell looked at me. ‘Why?’
‘That cup,’ I said. ‘It’s…’ Fuck a puck. Think, Saffron. ‘It’s poisoned!’
‘Really? How very curious. Such a shame I don’t believe
you.’ He tilted his head back, drained it then smacked his lips. ‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘It does have a strange aftertaste.’
The scarred man, whose right eye was still looking watery and red, stepped into my line of vision. ‘Boss,’ he asked urgently, ‘are you feeling alright?’
Adwell took a moment to consider before answering. ‘Perfectly fine.’ His eyes returned to me, boring into my soul. ‘What was really in that cup?’
Panic started to claw at my throat. Maybe it wouldn’t work. I didn’t have any evidence that gingko biloba prevented memory magic from doing its stuff; besides, Adwell hadn’t drunk that much of it. I stared at him, frantically scanning his face. I knew there wouldn’t be anything to see, not yet. But that didn’t stop me looking.
‘Saffron,’ Adwell said, his voice hardening. ‘What was in that cup?’
I didn’t know what to say. My mouth worked but no words came out. I shook my head violently from side to side. What if it did affect him? What if he remembered who I was after this? Art Adwell wasn’t Vincent and he wasn’t Rose, he was a dangerous man who could use the information that faery godmothers existed for some very nefarious ends.
I thought quickly. ‘I was lying,’ I said hastily. ‘I’m sorry. It’s a terrible habit of mine. Whenever I’m put under pressure, lies pour out of my mouth. I can’t help it. I’m not a faery godmother.’ I forced a laugh. ‘That’s ridiculous. Faery godmothers don’t exist! What I did earlier in the street, that was just sleight of hand. I’m really … uh … I’m really an assassin. Like you said Rose was. I wanted to kill her myself but your men got in the way.’ I was beginning to babble and I knew it but I couldn’t help myself. ‘I’m a stone-cold killer,’ I declared loudly. ‘And a fabricator of crazy stories too.’
Adwell reached into his pocket and took out a stick of chewing gum. Very deliberately, he unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth. ‘An assassin, you say?’
‘Oh yes.’ I nodded and held up my hands. ‘These fingers are stained with the blood of a hundred men.’
The scarred man frowned and squinted. ‘I don’t see any blood.’
‘Metaphorical blood, you plank,’ I muttered. I tried to dissemble. What had just happened could be very, very bad. Life-alteringly bad. I had to use my wits. Against this lot, that shouldn’t be that hard. I hoped.
For the briefest heartbeat, I let my eyes flicker towards the empty cup. I didn’t smile exactly but I let my expression alter for a moment. When I glanced back at Adwell, I knew he’d caught it and so had his men.
One of them cleared his throat. ‘Boss,’ he said carefully, ‘don’t women often use poison?’
‘You can’t say that I didn’t warn you,’ I whispered.
The room burst into action. All three men rushed to Adwell’s side as he spat out the gum then thrust a finger down his throat in a bid to make himself sick. The scarred man thumped him on his back; that wouldn’t help but I supposed it made him feel useful. I watched the four of them. Come on, damn you. Vomit. Vomit it all up.
Adwell retched again but it wasn’t working. His finger wasn’t doing the trick. He had to ram it down further and he couldn’t manage that on his own.
I steeled myself, drawing on all my reserves. I’d wanted to use my inherent magic to save myself; by making Art Adwell throw up, I’d still be doing that.
Concentrating hard, I sent out a jolt of magic towards his stomach. His body lurched, his eyes widened, then he doubled over and started to regurgitate the contents of his stomach. As his men watched him, I wasted no more time and made for the living-room door. It was the only chance I had to get out of there and I had to make the most of it.
I wrenched the door open as the scarred man noticed and lunged for me. I slammed back my elbow and it connected with his upper midsection. He groaned and I ran. I pelted down the short corridor then yanked open the front door.
A fist flew at my head, knocking me sideways. I coiled up another burst of desperate magic that sent my assailant flying backwards, then I was out in the fresh air and doing my best to sprint. They’d catch up with me in seconds so I did the only thing I could and threw myself into the path of the one and only car driving down Vincent’s street.
The driver slammed on the brakes and leapt out, a horrified expression on her face. ‘You idiot!’ she shrieked. ‘You ran out in front of me! I’ve got a dashcam, you know! I’ve filmed all of this!’
I smiled. Sometimes you can’t beat technology. It wouldn’t work – but Adwell didn’t know that.
‘I’m sorry,’ I gasped. ‘I wasn’t paying attention. It’s my fault, not yours.’ I groaned in affected pain and she sprang to my side. ‘Ohhhhh.’ I clutched my stomach. ‘Hospital,’ I waved at her weakly. ‘Please get me to the hospital.’
She helped me up, her body trembling with adrenaline, and with her assistance I stumbled towards her car. When I glanced round, only one man remained on the pavement watching us. The others had sensibly stayed inside after the poor driver mentioned her camera.
Adwell’s henchman folded his arms and glared at me. I blinked weakly and managed to clip on my seatbelt. A moment later, we drove away.
Chapter Nineteen
Yet again it had been a close-run thing. Far too close. I’d let my confidence get the better of me. I winced. If anyone heard that I’d almost let a sleazy bastard like Art Adwell remember that he’d met a faery godmother, I’d be sacked in a second. It was a wonder that I’d got away with it when the same thing had happened with Vincent, even though that had been under completely different circumstances.
I grimaced. Come to think of it, if anyone heard what I’d done, I’d be more than sacked. I’d be thrown in faery gaol and left there to rot for the rest of my natural life. I wouldn’t be able to complain about it, either. I’d deserve every damned second of solitary confinement.
I breathed out, while the woman next to me put her foot down and huffed and puffed with nervous fear. ‘I mean,’ she said, swerving round a corner, ‘what were you thinking? Didn’t you ever learn the Green Cross Code?’
I mumbled a vague, pathetic answer. Adwell had thrown up; I’d seen his vomit with my own eyes. The memory magic would still be active and he’d have already forgotten me. I’d made it out by the skin of my teeth – and no one ever need know how close I’d come to total disaster.
Recognising the crossroads up ahead, I turned to the woman. ‘To be honest,’ I said, ‘I think I’m feeling alright now. I don’t think I need to go to the hospital. You can let me out here.’
She choked. ‘You could have died back there! You still look like you might.’ She shook her head. ‘No, I’m taking you to the hospital and you are going to get yourself properly checked out. I won’t have anyone say that I hit them with my car and then just abandoned them.’
I bit my lip. ‘You’re a really nice lady,’ I said quietly. ‘And if I still had my wand with me, I wouldn’t do things this way. I’m very sorry for your trouble.’ Then I leant across and wrenched the steering wheel.
The woman screamed and slammed on the brakes. We were both jolted forward. I wasted no time in unclipping my seatbelt and letting myself out. I shut the car door and jogged to the pavement, swallowing hard as I watched. The small car was at an angle, its wheels against the curb and its engine stalled. The woman’s brow was furrowed and she looked very confused.
Pulling back my shoulders, I walked to the driver’s side and knocked on the window. She rolled it down and gazed at me. ‘Are you okay?’ I asked.
She put her hand to her throat and nodded weakly. ‘I think so. I don’t know what happened there. I must have blanked out for a second.’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘Or maybe I passed out. I don’t know.’ She glanced at the camera on her dashboard. ‘At least I have that thing,’ she said. ‘It’ll tell me what I did wrong.’
‘You did nothing wrong,’ I assured her. ‘Nothing at all.’ Although unfortunately for her, the dashcam wouldn’t be able to provide any evidence to prove that. The magic w
hich covered human memory worked on technology also. There would be nothing to suggest I’d ever been in her car.
I was genuinely sorry that I’d ruined her day. ‘What’s your name?’ I asked. Maybe I could see if she’d ever put in a wish and if her name was floating around in the Adventus room. Maybe I could make things up to her by getting her a faery godmother. We weren’t supposed to work the system in our favour like that, but I was fully aware that it happened. After all, it was the Office of Faery Godmothers, where corruption still lurked in several corners.
‘May Smith,’ she mumbled. ‘My name is May Smith.’ She looked up at me. ‘Do I know you?’
‘No. I was walking along the pavement and saw what happened.’ I patted her shoulder. ‘Is there someone I can call for you?’
May stared at me, her expression blank. ‘My husband,’ she said finally. ‘You can call my husband.’ She fumbled for her phone and handed it to me. ‘You’re so kind to stop and help me.’
Guilt pushed at me. ‘I know that you’d do the exact same thing if our positions were reversed.’ I tried to smile then made the call.
***
I hadn’t been back to St Clements Park since the day both the Director and Jasper had been abducted from there. The little shop, which the trolls had used as a vantage point and which had sold the most unappealing sandwiches I’d ever come across, had already changed hands. From the looks of things, it was going to be an Indian takeaway. That was definitely a step in the right direction.
Ignoring the throb of pain that seemed to have taken hold of my entire body and settled so deep into my bones that it was hard to remember what it was like to pain-free, I limped across the street and through the park gates. Thankfully both Vincent and Rose were immediately visible. The former was bent over, examining something on the ground, while the latter was sitting on an old park bench, her shoulders slumped and her face pale. I knew how she felt.
As I approached, her head whipped up. Part of me was expecting yet another conversation where she interrogated me about my identity. Instead her expression tightened and she muttered something to Vincent.