The Sweet Scent of Blood

by Suzanne McLeod

  I slid my fingers into the top of her leather hotpants. ‘Why you’ve been so eager for me to join you?’

  She shuddered, her breath coming in excited little huffs.

  I stepped sharply to the side, stuck my leg out and jerked hard on her shorts. Off-balance, she stumbled forward, her eyes flashing open, her arms windmilling. I thumped my hand between her shoulders and pushed her down. She landed on her front, her chin cracking hard against the wooden floor. Her breath gasped out as I dropped down to sit astride her and I slapped my hands on her arms and leaned my weight on her, pinning her to the floor.

  ‘Or was there something you wanted to tell me?’ I leaned down and whispered into her ear.

  Then the screaming started.

  Onstage, Red Poet had caught the girl and was holding her from behind, trapping her body tightly against his. The audience were transfixed, revelling in her terror. Tears coursed down her face as her struggles grew weaker. He gently wiped the tears away, then lifted her chin, stretching her neck so the large pulse jumped under the skin.

  Beneath me, Rio laughed.

  He reared back his head.

  Shit! Rio was controlling him—

  ‘Make him stop,’ I shouted in her ear.

  Red Poet froze, fangs poised to strike.

  Rio turned so our faces were almost touching. ‘Shh, little sidhe,’ she purred, ‘you wouldn’t want him to hurt her now, would you? Just a slight miscalculation on his part, and there would be a tragic accident. And of course, she signed the disclaimer of her own free will, all our special guests do ... the Monitor goblin will vouch for that.’

  Was she bluffing?

  As if she’d read my mind, she whispered, ‘Unlike some, our plump little starlet doesn’t have the protection of the Earl, or a religious mother, or a celebrity boyfriend - no one would even remember her, if her performance tonight should be her swan song.’

  Not bluffing then.

  The girl could disappear tonight, and unless the contract called for the Monitor to register her death, no one would ever know. Humans really didn’t understand just how literal goblins were sometimes.

  ‘I suppose you want me to move, then?’ I muttered.

  She gave another skin-crawling chuckle. ‘Please don’t. This is a delectable situation.’

  Okaaay, so she liked being pinned to the floor ... ‘Fine,’ I snapped.

  ‘Oh, wonderful: now you can enjoy the show, and I can murmur sweet nothings in your tempting ear. Come closer, little sidhe,’

  I sighed and bent nearer until my face was next to hers. Vampires do so love their games.

  Back onstage, Red Poet had let the girl go and now she was crawling desperately away from him, half strangling herself with her nightgown as she did so. He tiptoed after her, exaggerating every move: a true pantomime villain.

  Rio shifted beneath me. ‘You’ve been asking about poor Melissa. A great shame, her death, she was such a delightful pet.’

  ‘I’m not here for the eulogy, so just get on with it, Rio.’

  ‘Very well. Melissa came to me the night before she died and told me she had some information she wanted to sell to me.’

  ‘She was blackmailing you.’

  She laughed softly, the sound vibrating through me. ‘Melissa was much like me; she had ambitions. She understood that the right word or deed could be used as leverage, or be a very effective weapon.’

  Touché. ‘So Melissa was blackmailing you.’

  ‘She was smart, and she had her eye on a bright and shiny future.’ Rio arched one black brow. ‘It’s always possible she was blackmailing someone, don’t you think? I liked her. She was a girl after my own heart.’ She winked. ‘That’s why I agreed to be her sponsor.’

  I frowned. Melissa already had a sponsor: Declan at the Bloody Shamrock.

  ‘I see no one’s shared that information with you, have they?’ Rio tutted. ‘But don’t you find it interesting that she had not one, not two, but three sponsors? Me, of course, the Earl, and Declan. And there was to be another, but he had still to declare.’

  My back was starting to ache. ‘Let me guess: that’d be Malik al-Khan.’

  ‘You have been busy.’ She sniffed the air. ‘But I was meaning our other visitor, the Frenchman.’

  I needed to clear something up. ‘So did you agree to be her sponsor before or after she decided to sell you information?’

  ‘Before, of course.’ She licked her lips. ‘I declared my intentions some time ago.’

  For a moment I’d almost forgotten what was happening a few feet in front of me, but a low moan dragged my attention back to the stage where Red Poet was enjoying himself draping the terrified girl on top of the stone coffin. He flashed a fang-filled grin and tipped her head back, exposing her throat, and started carefully arranging her hair so it wouldn’t obstruct the audience’s view.

  The music deepened ominously.

  ‘So what’s this information then?’ I asked.

  Rio sighed. ‘Maybe you’ll tell me when you find out, little sidhe. Unfortunately, Melissa was silenced before she could tell me what it was.’

  Figured! Rio’s little games were just her way of jumping on the spell bandwagon with all the other vamps. And she hadn’t even given me much more in the way of information.

  The music rose on a drum roll and Red Poet lifted his arms, his cape billowing dramatically behind him.

  ‘Watch this bit,’ Rio tensed with excitement, ‘this is the best part.’

  The music cut out. The audience members were almost out of their seats with anticipation.

  A wooden stake bloomed in Red Poet’s chest, spraying a fountain of blood—

  Light and smoke exploded, obscuring the stage.

  I blinked in shock. Had they just staked him for real?

  The smoke cleared, unveiling two figures locked in a passionate embrace. The music resumed, this time soft and romantic. The figures broke apart and the girl’s saviour flicked back her long red hair and flashed a fang-filled grin. The two of them giggled and took a bow as the audience erupted into loud applause.

  ‘Such a wonderful moment.’ Rio sighed with pleasure as the lights cut out, plunging the Théâtre in darkness.

  She heaved and rolled and my back hit the floor.

  And the lights flared back on to reveal Rio, on her hands and knees above me. ‘Happy endings,’ she purred, looking down, ‘don’t you just love them?’

  I fumbled in my jacket, my pulse racing. ‘Is that what you want?’

  Her tongue darted out. ‘Isn’t it what we all hope for?’

  ‘What about the star of the show,’ I demanded, ‘can she hope for a happy ending?’

  ‘I’m sure she can. We all need hope, little sidhe, otherwise what is there to live for?’ She blew me a kiss. ‘Take away hope, and there is nothing left.’ Her mouth opened wide in a fang-filled grin, much as the girl’s saviour had done, and she started to lower her head.

  ‘Even when hope is gone,’ I slammed the silver invitation against her chest, ‘there is always retribution.’

  She shrieked and leapt back like a scalded cat, hands flapping frantically. Then her mouth gaped and she slid unconscious to the floor. My own mouth opened in shock as smoke wisped between my fingers and the smell of burnt flesh choked my throat, both mine and hers.

  Shit. Her reaction was way more dramatic than I’d expected. Coughing, I scrambled round in a crouch, ready to face the audience; they were all staring like it was just part of the entertainment. My hands fisted. What the hell would happen when they realised it wasn’t?

  Then a dainty blonde vampire in a twenties-style beaded dress stood up: Elizabetta, head of the Golden Blade family.

  I registered who she was almost without noticing.

  This was not good.

  She inclined her head graciously, then brought her hands together and clapped.

  The rest of the watching audience joined in.

  Relief tumbled inside me. I dropped the invitatio
n back in my pocket and swiped the back of my hand over my mouth. ‘Thanks for the chat, Rio,’ I muttered.

  Cue my exit.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Outside in the empty corridor, I let out a relieved breath. Had Rio been going to bite me? Would she really have given the finger to the Earl and his guarantee of my safety like that? Or had it just been more play-acting? I grimaced at the red burn on my palm, then checked my watch. I still had nearly an hour before my meeting with Alan Hinkley, time enough for some more investigating ... only right now I’d had my fill of playing detective and having vampires taking me for a sucker. Resisting the urge to run, I strode towards the fire-exit, my high-heels sounding like gunshots pinging on the floor behind me.

  Fifty feet and I was out of there.

  Only I didn’t make it.

  A shadowed blur hit me and slammed my back against the wall. A hard body pressed against mine, a cool hand clamped over my mouth. My pulse jack-hammered away in my throat as I stared at a familiar black stone in a pale pretty ear.

  Malik held me there, silent, unmoving, his dark spice scent invading my senses as he looked not at me, but off to the side, as though waiting. About us the light dimmed and shadows obscured our surroundings, leaving us marooned ... somewhere ... or nowhere.

  I had a vague thought of struggling, but my body wasn’t interested.

  ‘You seem to be having a most informative evening, Genevieve.’ He spoke quietly, his jaw hardly moving under his pale skin. ‘It is about to get even more so.’

  The words slipped over me as I gazed at the dark, silky hair that curled over the neck of his black T-shirt. The taste of Turkish delight melted over my tongue and my heart did an eager dance, swirling my blood through my veins.

  ‘When I remove my hand, you will stay quiet, stay still.’ He turned to look at me, pupils glowing red in his almond-shaped eyes.

  Part of me didn’t want him to take his hand away; the part that was elated to be with him in this nowhere place. Staring into his perfect, pretty face, fear fluttered in my belly that I could even think like that. Fuck. I willed the feeling away and concentrated on the small pain digging into my spine - my watch. My right arm was bent and trapped behind me, and Malik was pressed so tight against me that I couldn’t get free. Maybe if I sank my teeth into his hand—?

  ‘Genevieve?’ His fingers flexed against my mouth. ‘You will stay silent?’ His hand tightened round my wrist and the bracelet of bruises there throbbed to his touch.

  I glared at him. In my heels, we were almost the same height, and close enough that without his hand on my mouth, our lips would have kissed. I couldn’t nod, so I blinked.

  ‘Good.’ His hand slid down to circle my neck, thumb touching my speeding pulse.

  ‘What the fu—?’

  He squeezed my throat, silencing me. ‘Look to your left.’

  The pressure round my neck gave me no option. I looked.

  The shadows shifted, thinning in a small area, almost like watching a slightly out-of-focus TV. Darius, Rio’s blood-pet, burst out of the Théâtre and did a frantic check in both directions. He might as well have carried a flashing neon sign advertising that he was searching for me. He dragged a hand through his hair, desperation marring his cover model looks. Then he looked at us and started jogging. I held my breath as he neared, but he ran past us without even a sideways glance, grabbed the bar of the fire-exit door and rammed it.

  The door stayed closed.

  Damn, it hadn’t been a way out after all.

  Darius swung round and sprinted back the way he’d come.

  Malik tapped a finger on my cheek, indicating that I should keep watching.

  Heart thudding fast, I did as he wanted and slowly turned my head.

  Darius slid to a halt by the ballroom, banged on the door. For a moment, nothing happened. He thumped it again and this time it opened. He disappeared inside, then barrelled back out almost immediately, frowning. He scanned the empty corridor then, his long legs eating up the floor, he raced back into the Théâtre.

  I turned back to Malik. The glow in his eyes had dimmed, leaving them deep pools of black. ‘We’re ... what? Invisible?’

  He gave a small shake of his head, spoke in an undertone. ‘Not quite. A smell, a touch, a heartbeat could draw attention to us and we would be seen, although unlikely by a human.’

  Okay, so he could hide more than himself in the shadows.

  I sniffed. ‘You might want to polish up your social skills, y’know,’ I muttered. ‘The caveman greeting was old even in the Stone Age. Most people content themselves with a handshake nowadays.’

  He gave me an enigmatic look, then laid his cheek on mine and inhaled. ‘Good evening, Genevieve.’ His voice slid over me like hot satin. ‘I see you received my invitation.’

  Fine, so he wasn’t going to hurt me. And he wasn’t into handshakes.

  ‘Yeah, and it’s been great, but I really must be going, so if you could just move ...’ I tried pushing him away, but it was like trying to shift a concrete troll.

  ‘The night is still young, and there is more for us to learn,’ he said. ‘I have concluded that you could be useful.’ Amusement flickered over his face. ‘We shall work together on this.’

  Who was he kidding? Working together didn’t usually mean plastering colleagues against the wall.

  I pulled a disappointed face. ‘Sorry, prior engagement.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ He turned back to stare at the empty corridor. ‘You have an appointment at the police station, but that is not for some time yet.’

  Well, if he thought I was just going to stand there ... I wriggled, got a leg free ... he shoved his thigh between mine ... my heel stabbed into the floor, jarring the bones in my leg—

  ‘Calm yourself,’ he said softly, not looking at me. ‘We have another show to watch.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I heaved a frustrated sigh. ‘I’ve seen all the shows I want tonight.’ He ignored me, intent on ... whatever. Okay, so he’d got me into a compromising position, but even with my heart thudding like a pneumatic drill, there was no evidence he was the least bit excited about it. And his body was touching mine in all the right places, so that I’d feel, just like I could feel his heart wasn’t beating, and he wasn’t breathing: he’d shut himself down, like the Earl had earlier. And like the Earl, and Rio, no doubt this was just Malik’s way of asking me to find whatever magic killed Melissa - except that he hadn’t wanted me to get involved in the first place—

  He cut into my thoughts. ‘See who is coming now?’

  Albie - Mr June - appeared out of the ballroom. He had a good scratch of his thighs through his uniform and strolled to the Théâtre. Before he got there, Rio stalked out, snarling with anger, the burn on her chest like a blistered red brand. An even-more-desperate-looking Darius hovered behind.

  My pulse sped faster.

  ‘Slow your heart, Genevieve,’ Malik said soft and urgent. ‘Slow its beat, as you did before; you will draw their attention otherwise.’

  I took a deep breath, concentrated, but nothing happened. I closed my eyes. One elephant, two elephants.

  ‘Now,’ he hissed, ‘or I will do it for you.’

  Damn G-Zav. I gritted my teeth. Five elephants, six elephants.

  ‘It will not go well if they find us.’

  My eyes snapped open, I glared at him and whispered. ‘Like that’s going to help!’

  His hand plucked at my throat. ‘Why are you wearing so many clothes?’

  ‘Huh?’

  He let go of my wrist, slipped my jacket open and pulled at the Lycra. ‘What is this?’

  ‘My top!’ I tried to push his hand away.

  The glow flared in his eyes. ‘Be still.’

  I couldn’t answer him, couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, frozen at his command. The flutter of fear returned on great beating wings.

  He glanced along the corridor.

  ‘There is no time.’ He grabbed the neck band of my top, tore it d
own. Chill air kissed my naked skin. Incandescent eyes fixed on mine, Malik pressed his palm between my breasts, put his lips on mine. Cold seared through my body like a fast, freezing glacier. I screamed into his mouth. He shuddered, swallowing my screams into silence. Then my heart stuttered, stopped beating. My head dropped to his shoulder, eyes falling shut, body limp. I wondered if I was dying, but the thought was trapped in a sea of ice and didn’t matter any more ...

  Open your eyes, Genevieve. His voice drifted unspoken through my mind.

  My eyes opened.

  Rio, Albie and Darius strode past us and through a door further down the hall.

  We followed them in ... or we didn’t, I wasn’t sure, but now we stood against a wall in a spacious office. The room had a hollow feel to it. A desk, a plastic chair, a metal filing cabinet - and a stale rank smell that made my nose wrinkle. Old blood.

  Malik spooned behind me, his arm tight around my waist, his hand a cold fist over my heart. I knew that my heart did not beat, that my body would do only as he commanded, not as I wanted, but my panic was locked away, a prisoner inside a bubble of ice, and all that was left was calm and coldness.

  ‘Where is the sidhe, Darius?’ Beads of pink sweat pearled in Rio’s hair. ‘How could you lose her?’

  Darius stood, arms slack at his sides, submissive. ‘I’m sorry, Master.’

  She grabbed his throat, lifted him until his feet dangled inches above the ground. ‘I gave you a task,’ she growled. ‘All you had to do was watch her and tell me what she did and who she spoke to.’ She shook him.

  I almost expected him to rattle.

  ‘You knew I hadn’t finished with her yet,’ she yelled.

  Eyes bulging, Darius let her choke him.

  Albie brushed down his uniform, had a sneaky scratch, then said calmly, ‘Put him down, Rio. You can play with him later.’

  She dropped Darius and backhanded him all in one fast movement, launching him into the air. He hit the filing cabinet face-first, banging it into the wall, and thudded down, blood trickling from his scalp, leaving behind a head-sized dent in the metal.

  Ouch! That had to hurt.

  ‘Why are you fussing about the sidhe?’ Albie inspected his manicure. ‘She must have left.’