by Alexis Hall
“Oh, yeah, magic.”
Nim carefully put the pot into the back of her taxi and climbed in after it. I waved her off. I was mostly convinced I’d done the right thing, probably the only thing, but part of me was still afraid I’d just given my ex-girlfriend the box from Kiss Me Deadly.
“We done?” asked Michelle.
“Um, I guess so.”
“Later.”
She went back into the bar, and I headed for the Tube.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lions & Wolves
It was close to midnight by the time I got home. Elise was sitting in the middle of the living room, building one of her model airplanes. I gave her my new number, filled her in on the situation, left her to it, and went to bed, too tired from all the breaking, entering, and being possessed to even think about making a cup of Bovril.
I really needed a rest, but I sort of hoped I’d see Nim in my dreams.
I didn’t.
An unfamiliar ringtone jerked me awake. It took me a few bleary moments to realise it was probably mine. I groped for it, trying not to look at the time as I answered with a grunt.
“I’ve got something.” Eve’s voice.
I grunted again.
“Wow, you really suck at this rapid-response stuff.”
“I’m awake, I’m awake; what’s going on?”
“I think I’ve got a hit on Tara.”
I woke up more. “Where?”
“Heading towards Aldgate.”
“Any idea what she’s tracking?”
“I’m only getting one vampire in the area. At St. Botolph’s.”
Weird. The last time I’d been there, I’d gone to talk sewers with a giant rat gestalt. I really hoped the rats weren’t taking sides in this as well because that would get really icky really quickly. “Thanks.” I was about to put the phone down but then I thought of something. “Hold on, have you been up all night?”
“That’s the magic of Penguin Mints.”
“Eve, you need to rest.”
“Sleep’s for the weak. Besides, I’d have been raiding anyway if my arm was up to it.”
“Seriously, go to bed.”
She laughed and hung up.
I crawled out of the covers, dragged some clothes on, and staggered into the front room.
Elise’s model plane was looking about four hours better than when I’d come in.
“Miss Kane, I cannot help but notice that you have awoken far earlier than is customary or healthy for you.”
“Got to get to Aldgate. Shit’s kicking off. Maybe.”
“In which case, I believe I should drive the vehicle as driver fatigue is reckoned to be a contributing factor in twenty percent of road accidents.”
Elise was so concerned for my well-being that she laid off the Rammstein so I could sleep in the car.
She woke me up when we arrived at St. Botolph’s. It was pretty much as I remembered—a jarringly old-fashioned church-with-spire stuck in the middle of the financial district. Just up the road, the predawn light glittered on the Gherkin. The doors of St. Botolph’s stood open. Most churches go out of their way to be welcoming, but five in the morning is pushing it even for Jesus.
We ditched the car illegally just outside and went in.
There was a bit of a party going on. Tara, Henry, and a bunch of werewolves were bunging up the nave, face-to-face with Caradoc and a couple of his goons. Caradoc was mid-grandstand, declaiming something about ancient rights and honoured bargains. I’m pretty sure some of it was even in Latin.
Edmund Carew, Voice of the Multitude, was up by the altar, looking down with that scary peaceful expression that said I’m totally not a giant swarm of rats in a person suit. Although the rodents teeming round his feet might have been a giveaway.
He smiled at us as we came, and Elise waved cheerfully.
Everyone else ignored us, and I wondered how best to force myself into whatever was going on so I could tell Tara to back down. Because that always worked so well. We slipped down one of the aisles, trying to get into a good position to interrupt.
Eventually Caradoc paused for... I would have said breath, but vampire, so I guess it was dramatic effect.
Tara curled her lip. It wasn’t quite a snarl, but it wasn’t quite anything else. Her eyes glowed wolf amber in the half-lit church. “I’m losing patience. What’s this about?”
“Your invasion,” Caradoc went on, “is justified in terms of the Compact sealed between our two peoples in the dying days of the seventeenth century. By the terms of that same Compact, I seek to end your aggression this very night.”
One of Tara’s stiletto heels tapped against the flagstones. “You’re so still wasting my time.”
“As Prince of Swords, it is my right to stand in the stead of my people and to resolve by single combat any charge laid against them.”
Well, that was news. With everything that was going on, I was surprised the Council had found time to appoint him.
Tara stopped tapping, and the silence felt heavy somehow. “You’re challenging me?”
Carew cleared his throat in that polite Church of England way. “By the terms of the Compact, it is not a challenge until the words are spoken.” His voice was soft, but beneath it was the echoing chorus of the Multitude.
Elise leaned over to me. “He is such a nice gentleman,” she whispered.
Caradoc nodded gravely. He was standing with his hands folded on the pommel of Aeglica’s sword, looking a hell of a lot like a statue on a tomb and a lot better than the last time I’d seen him. “I, Sir Caradoc of Gwent, challenge you, Tara Vane-Tempest, Marchioness of Safernoc, to single combat for the right to wage war against the vampires of London.”
Tara’s eyes swept contemptuously over him, and she smiled, well, wolfishly. “Yah, darling. Bring it on.”
“As the challenged party,” came the many voices of the Multitude, “the Marchioness of Safernoc may choose the location of the duel.”
“Wherever you like, pretty boy.”
I’ll say this for Caradoc, he didn’t rise to insults. “The car park beneath Hyde Park at dusk. It is a large place that will give vantage to neither party, and I can arrange for it to be cleared of innocents and witnesses.”
Typical. Driving in London is bad enough without bloody vampires closing down the car parks. And I was sort of starting to feel I’d missed the boat here. I’d been waiting for the right moment to fix this mess and now it seemed like there was a whole new one. On the plus side, it looked like the werewolves would be going from attacking all the vampires to attacking one vampire. Which probably counted as progress.
“I accept your terms.”
Caradoc bowed like he meant it and stalked out. And I guess that was my cue.
I stepped out the shadows. “Uh, hi.”
Tara didn’t even turn. She’d probably known I was there all along. She had a creepy habit of smelling me. “Didn’t I lock you up, Kate Kane?”
“It didn’t stick.”
She prowled towards me across the church floor. Despite the fact she was running some kind of psycho slaughter-thon, she still looked like she was on her way to a film premiere. “I hope you’re not here to tell me my business again.”
“Funny story...”
She sighed and gave me a glare that was almost affectionate. “Do you never learn?”
“I found the thing the Morrígan’s after, so you can call off your dogs.” Shit. “I mean, like, metaphorically.”
“Oh, you’ve taken care of it, have you?”
With hindsight, expecting Tara Vane-Tempest to turn round and say Splendid, there’s nothing left for us to do, let’s all go home and have crumpets had been a bit optimistic. “Well, kind of. I think I can get her to go back to sleep.”
“And what will you do about t
he hundred or so fledgling vampires she unleashed onto the streets of London?”
“That’s the Council’s problem.”
“The Council had the opportunity to contain the situation. They failed.”
“You didn’t give them much of a chance.”
“Has it ever occurred to you, Kate Kane, that your priorities are not as they should be?” She watched me steadily. “Every day I was, as you put it, giving the Council a chance, people were dying.”
Bugger. Tara had a point. But there was no way I was admitting it. “I get that, but as far as solutions go, ‘kill all the vampires’ is just a bit genocide-y and will probably start a war, which last time I checked, is not a good way to save lives.”
“Do what you must, as will I.”
“But you don’t have to do this.”
“A challenge has been issued. I cannot withdraw.”
“So, what, you’re going to fight Caradoc for your right to kill everybody?”
“I am going to fight Caradoc for the right to do my duty.” She was in front of me, close enough to run her perfectly manicured fingertips through the white streak in my hair. “And, just think, Kate Kane, if I lose, all your problems will be over.”
I caught her by the wrist. I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to be pushing her away or pulling her closer. “Look, I know you shacked up with the woman who murdered my partner, locked me in a dungeon, and are making my life really difficult right now, but I don’t actually want you to get killed.”
Her eyes gleamed. “So you do care.”
“Yes, yes, our relationship has reached that very special not-actively-wishing-you-dead stage. I’ll send you flowers later.”
Well, I’d given it my best shot, and it had gone about as well as it always did, but at least this time, I hadn’t got chained up or nearly killed.
Elise and I piled back in the car and went for home. I shuffled down in my seat, wondering if I could catch twenty minutes sleep.
“That was most interesting, Miss Kane. I have never before been privy to an incitement to ritual combat.”
“Next time I’ll bring popcorn.”
“I confess the experience has left me uncertain as to our next course of action.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Am I correct in identifying that as an idiomatic interjection and not as a genuine request for further information?”
“It’s six in the morning, I’ve had four hours sleep, idiomatic interjection is about all I’m capable of right now. Basically I think we have to wait this one out.” I yawned. “Knowing vampires and werewolves and rituals, half the major players will probably turn up at this thing tomorrow.”
“Will we be permitted to attend, Miss Kane?”
“I don’t know about permitted, but I’m going anyway. It’s probably my best chance of seeing Julian. Plus for all I know, the Morrígan is going to show up and slaughter everyone.”
Elise’s attention flicked my way for a moment. “Surely that is an argument in favour of, to use the colloquialism, staying out of it.”
“How long have you known me, Elise?”
“A little over three months, Miss Kane.”
“In that admittedly short time, have I ever stayed out of anything?”
When we got back to the flat, I confusedly ate half a banana because it felt like breakfast time, and then realised I could just go back to bed instead. I woke up after midday feeling approximately human, only to discover I had a couple of missed calls from Eve. I faffed a bit until I figured out how to use the phone, which was smarter and therefore more annoying than either of my old ones, and then rang her back.
“Hi, Kate, we’ve made some progress on the papers.”
“Did you actually sleep last night at all?”
“Dude, do you want to hear about scary vampire rituals or my sleeping habits?”
I sighed. “Rituals, please.”
“Kaykay, this is some pretty hard-core hocus-pocus bullshit. I found a really seriously annotated copy of a ritual which translates roughly as The Ascent of the Discarded Stair.”
“The what?”
There was a silence.
“Well, I don’t want you to panic, and obviously the translation’s uncertain, but I think he’s trying to become a god.”
Great. Another one. I should have guessed. It’s basically number three on the megalomaniacal wizard checklist: get laid, get rich, achieve unlimited cosmic power. “I wouldn’t worry, Eve, people try this sort of thing all the time.”
“Oh you just have to be Miss Seen It All Before, don’t you?”
“I was trying to reassure you. I mean, what, did you want me to freak out and run around shouting ‘We’re all doomed’ like that bloke in Dad’s Army?”
“Don’t piss on my first apocalypse.”
“Sorry, Eve, this sort of thing usually doesn’t go anywhere. There are lots of powerful things out there that don’t like to share.”
“So, what you’re saying is that this would only have a chance of working if every major supernatural creature in England was distracted by, for example, the awakening of a psychotic vampire queen?”
Shit. “Look, we still don’t need to panic. These things are really hard. You have to get all kinds of weird stuff, and if you don’t do it exactly right, you blow your face off.”
“He’s probably been planning this for five hundred years. I think we can assume he’s sussed the logistics.”
“Okay, you’re right, I’ll put this on my list of things to worry about, right below getting my throat ripped out by the Morrígan. Have you figured out any details?”
“Basically, as far as I can tell, being a god is like being in a really, really exclusive club. You can either inherit it, like the Egyptian pharaohs, get voted in like the Roman emperors, or kill someone and steal their membership card.”
“So what’s Percy’s plan?”
“He’s going after the throne of Apollo. There’s this two-part ritual, one at each solstice. In winter, which I guess is what he’s doing now, he has to get the Delphic oracle to proclaim him the God of the Sun. Then in summer, he has to mix the blood of a faery lord with something called the Tears of Hypnos, and this will allow him to transubstantiate into a divine form which, well, is sort of the sun.”
In the spirit of continuing not to panic, I thought about it for a moment. “Look, let’s think about this rationally. Is it actually a problem if Henry Percy is the sun?”
“It’ll probably transform a good chunk of England into his own personal kingdom entirely subject to his immortal will.”
“Like a faery realm?” That was probably quite a big problem.
“I’m not sure, but I think it’s essentially the same thing. When you get right down to it, a god is just a powerful otherworldly being that people worship.”
I guess I’d just figured out why Percy had tried to sacrifice me when I was seventeen, but it didn’t help me much now because I still had no idea what the deal was with the oracle. “What’s the deal with the oracle?” I asked. “Didn’t that go out with, like, Jesus?”
“There’s nothing in the books, but there’s something in the letters. This chick who’s writing to him apparently used to be one, and wants it back. It’s something wibbly about sacred bloodlines. That’s all I’ve got, sorry.”
Well, it was better than nothing. “It’s better than nothing,” I said.
“You know the solstice is in two days, right?”
“If I’m not dead by then, I’ll look into it.”
“I’ll let you know if I find anything else.”
“Thanks. You’ve been, um, yeah.” I hung up quickly.
Guess that explained some of the whys, but it didn’t help much with the what-the-fuck-to-do-about-its. Part of me couldn’t help thinking that trying to become a god
when you were already immortal was just a little bit cheeky. And another part of me felt I should have had a sense of closure. I’d spent more than a decade not knowing why Henry Percy had tried to kill me, and now I did. But quite a lot of people have tried to kill me over the years, and honestly, it’d got to the point that I’d given up worrying about their motivations. As the saying goes, haters gonna try to sacrifice you.
I was in that unsettled place where I didn’t technically have anything to do, unless you counted watching everything go to shit. The sensible, grown-up thing would be to go into the office and start working on actual cases. I’d been saving the world pro bono for about a week, and while I’m sure it made me a better person, it didn’t actually pay the bills. On the other hand, since there was even less guarantee than usual I was going to live through the next few days, making sure my electricity didn’t get cut off wasn’t exactly a priority.
In the end, I compromised and spent the afternoon tying up loose ends. If you’re going to die, you might as well go neatly. I swung by Seven Dials and handed the feather from the Morrígan’s wing over to the Merchant of Dreams. They seemed a bit surprised that I’d actually managed to get one, but they thanked me politely and didn’t try to pull any faery bullshit. I was half expecting to find out there was some kind of infuriating loophole that meant they got to lock me up in a tree forever, but apparently not.
I spent what was left of the afternoon helping Elise with the invoicing and the other bits of admin I’d got really used to having her do for me. And then we set off to Hyde Park to gatecrash a duel.
The car park was apparently Full which I suspected was a tangled web of lies. I drove down the ramp to the barriers, where there were a couple of Caradoc’s goons waiting with fuck off looks on their faces.
I wound down the window. “Hi, you might remember me from that time you arrested me. Or that, um, other time you arrested me. I’m here for the fight.”
“None are to be admitted.”
“Oh, come on. Look, we can do this whole big thing where you try to keep me out and I sneak in the back and it’s a waste of everybody’s time, or you could just let me in right now.”