by Helen Harper
The gunman, now unarmed, roared underneath his woollen mask and lunged at Devereau, who raised his arms to block the attack. In theory, his nakedness meant that he was vulnerable but his bare feet granted him greater purchase on the rain-slick roof tiles. The man’s right foot slipped as he connected with Devereau’s forearms. Limbs flailing, he started to fall.
Shit. A dead gunman was no use to anyone. Devereau gritted his teeth and his hand shot out. He was determined to catch the man before he fell over the roof and down onto the pavement below. He grabbed hold of his black T-shirt in the nick of time.
‘Tell me,’ Devereau snarled. ‘Tell me who sent you.’
The man didn’t answer. Instead he reached round to his back and produced a sharp-bladed knife. He obviously wasn’t the brightest tool in the shed. He brandished the tip of the blade at Devereau’s torso and instinctively Devereau released his hold on the man’s T-shirt. A second later the man toppled backwards. His skull smashed open right next to the shiny shoes of Police Constable Fred Hackert, who was waiting below.
Chapter Eleven
‘Not even one night in your new home, Mr Webb,’ DS Grace commented, ‘and already someone has tried to kill you.’
Devereau shrugged easily. ‘What can I say? I’m a wanted man.’ He raised his eyebrows pointedly at Scarlett who was standing less than five metres away with an irritated expression on her face. The second gunman she’d been running down had escaped by performing a well-timed kamikaze leap in front of a double-decker bus. He’d avoided being hit and, as the bus driver slammed to an emergency stop, he’d scrambled away before Scarlett could grab him. From her annoyed stance, she was taking his escape personally.
‘Old enemies from your gang-running days?’ Grace enquired.
Devereau scratched his chin. ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I’m certain they were supes.’
‘Really,’ Grace said flatly.
The lie slid easily off Devereau’s tongue. ‘I believe so.’
The detective took a step towards him, but if he was trying to be intimidating he failed massively. ‘If they were supes, Mr Webb, our hands are tied. Regardless of that corpse lying directly opposite your home, we will be unable to investigate the shooting and it will become a supe matter.’
‘Darn.’ Devereau folded his fingers together. ‘That’s a real shame.’
Fred’s voice piped up. ‘DC Bellamy would—’
DS Grace’s face contorted. ‘I don’t care would DC Bellamy would do. This is what I’m doing.’ He glared at Devereau as if this were all his fault. ‘Can you categorically state that your house was shot at by supernatural beings?’
Devereau smiled pleasantly. ‘I can.’
‘Supes wouldn’t use guns!’ Fred snapped.
‘Lord Fairfax did.’ Devereau was referring to the dead alpha of the Fairfax clan who’d run amok recently and employed a gang to perform a heist against the Talismanic Bank. Fred flinched in response.
Scarlett unfolded her arms and walked over to him. ‘PC Hackert,’ she said softly, ‘I saw the attackers with my own eyes. I’m sure they were supes.’ She lied with admirable smoothness. ‘Humans just don’t move that way.’
Fred couldn’t stop himself from turning bright red. Devereau was starting to see why the one-fanged vampire was called Scarlett: it was certainly a reaction she seemed to provoke in others. Probably him, too.
Despite the young police constable’s obvious embarrassment, he held his ground. ‘What kind of supes? Vampires? Werewolves? Others?’ Fred motioned towards the dead body of the fallen gunman. ‘Because that guy looks human to me.’
‘You know that you can’t judge a person by their appearance alone, Fred,’ Scarlett said. ‘You can’t always tell a supe from their looks. In fact, to do so would be extraordinarily prejudicial and I would expect far better from you.’
Something flashed in his eyes. Whether he fancied himself in love with Scarlett or not, Fred Hackert was about to explode with anger.
Fortunately for all of them, Detective Sergeant Grace was oblivious to the undercurrents of emotion and he blustered ahead. ‘We need access to your property, Mr Webb. It’s an active crime scene that needs to be examined before we leave.’
DS Grace seemed to think Devereau had been born yesterday, but it wasn’t the first time the Shepherd’s intelligence had been underestimated and he doubted it would be the last. ‘Access denied. It’s a supe property in a supe neighbourhood and you have no jurisdiction beyond that which I allow you.’ He grinned. ‘And you know what they say, DS Grace.’
‘What?’ Grace snapped.
‘The law is the law.’
Grace’s expression soured. ‘Very well.’ He turned on his heel. ‘We’re done here.’
Fred wasn’t giving in quite so easily. ‘But—’
‘PC Hackert.’ Scarlett crooked her finger and beckoned him over. Her head dipped towards his and she murmured something. Even with his enhanced hearing, Devereau struggled to make out her out words – then he felt ashamed for trying to eavesdrop and walked away.
‘Mr Webb,’ Grace called from his car. ‘If that dead body turns out to be human, you know I’ll be back.’
Devereau waved a hand. ‘I’d expect nothing less, detective.’ He nodded in an elaborate show of mock respect and headed into his bullet-ridden house.
Dr Yara and Martina were in one of the back bedrooms, well away from any open windows.
‘It’s alright,’ Devereau said. ‘The police are leaving.’
‘Polis is not coming in here?’ Dr Yara’s eyes were wide. Martina, in contrast, simply looked defeated.
‘Nope.’ He managed a genuine smile. ‘They’ll probably be back, but we’ve gained a reprieve for now. It’s the best we can ask for.’
‘Is safe here?’
Devereau’s smile vanished. ‘No. It’s not.’
Scarlett’s heels clicked as she strode into the room, phone in hand. ‘It will be fine.’ She pointed at Devereau. ‘You can’t be seen running away with your tail between your legs. You’re too new and your reputation is too shaky.’ She pointed at Martina. ‘And your life is in danger if you stay here.’
‘Her life is in danger wherever she is,’ Devereau retorted.
‘True,’ Scarlett conceded. ‘That’s why you’re lucky you met me.’ She held up her phone. ‘I’ve called in a few favours. This street will be safe, at least for the next few days. Supes look after supes. I’ve strongly suggested that, as you’re a lone werewolf potentially with a lot of power, we would do well to stay on your good side.’
Devereau stiffened. ‘Did you—?’
‘No. Everyone thinks that you’re the one in danger. Not her.’
Martina flinched.
‘I’ve not told a soul about her existence,’ Scarlett continued. Her expression tightened. ‘But someone has.’ She gave Devereau a meaningful look. ‘Someone knew she was here.’
Dr Yara drew her shoulders back. ‘I tell no one!’ she declared defensively.
‘I know you didn’t. And neither did I,’ Devereau murmured. He looked at Martina. ‘So either someone tracked us from Goodman’s Alley back to here—’
‘I’d have noticed if that were the case,’ Scarlett said.
‘Or,’ Devereau said, ‘Martina told someone where she is.’
Scarlett sniffed. ‘I told you she was a liability.’
Martina snarled, picked herself up in one fluid movement and threw herself at Scarlett, her fingers curved as if she wanted to gouge out the vampire’s eyes. Devereau only just caught her by the waist in time and hauled her back. At least she’d remained in human form.
‘Well, I suppose we know she’s finally exhausted her wolf and we’re safe for a few hours,’ Scarlett said without blinking. Her tone was dry.
‘This isn’t the time for games, Scarlett,’ Devereau said.
‘Good,’ she replied, ‘because I’m done playing.’
They all stared at each other. ‘There is one person who can an
swer our questions,’ Devereau said finally. ‘Though he might not be feeling very chatty right now. He’s lost rather a lot of blood.’
Scarlett smiled humourlessly. ‘What are we waiting for? Let’s get that prick in here.’
***
The police had finally departed and night was drawing in, but Devereau was still nervous that someone would notice what he was up to. His twitchy neighbours had no doubt watched every moment of the unfolding action in the street earlier and, even though he’d yet to meet a single one of them, he was certain that they all despised him. He couldn’t blame them – after all, he’d brought a gunfight to their doorsteps.
He had no idea why none of them had told the coppers about the unconscious bloke he’d shoved behind the gate. Someone must have seen what he’d done. Maybe they disliked the police even more than they disliked him. Devereau didn’t have time to question their motives; there were far more important matters to worry about.
Waiting until the street was clear, he crossed the road and opened the rickety gate. It creaked loudly in protest. The gunman was lying just beyond it; he’d managed to prop himself up against a wall but otherwise hadn’t moved. One hand was clamped to his neck, covering the single fanged wound from Scarlett, but his balaclava remained over his face and hid his features. Even with the dark woollen mask, Devereau could see that man’s eyes were closed.
‘Rise and shine, fucker,’ Devereau muttered.
The man didn’t stir though Devereau was sure that he’d heard him and was feigning unconsciousness. He walked over and nudged him with the toe of his shoe. Still nothing. He pulled off the balaclava and examined the slack face beneath. Clean shaven and young; Devereau estimated he was no older than twenty-one or twenty-two. He poked him in the cheek but the man didn’t react.
With no other course of action open to him, Devereau bent down and scooped the man up in a fireman’s lift. The bastard couldn’t pretend to be comatose forever.
After carrying him into his house, Devereau dropped him onto the bare floorboards in the living room. There was a nail sticking out which caught the man’s shoulder as he fell. His features spasmed in pain although he managed to avoid grunting aloud. Definitely not unconscious, then.
Devereau smiled and stepped back. ‘How much blood did you take?’ he asked Scarlett, who was watching the proceedings from the corner.
‘Enough to keep him weak as a kitten for the next few hours. Not enough to do him any real damage.’ She ran her tongue over her lips. ‘Not unless I drink from him again.’
Dr Yara appeared in the doorway. ‘He is now vampire?’
Scarlett shook her head. ‘You have to drink vampire blood immediately after being bitten for that to happen.’ She sent Devereau a sidelong look. ‘And, like the werewolves, we’re only permitted to turn a small number of very willing people. There are strict rules.’
He was getting incredibly tired of hearing about these rules. ‘Mmm-hmm. Do these rules extend to killing humans who try to kill you first?’
She smirked. ‘Not if no one finds out.’
Dr Yara looked alarmed at the prospect but Devereau put his finger to his lips. ‘We’ll have to dispose of his body without anyone noticing.’
‘Cut him up,’ Scarlett suggested. ‘Then you can fit him neatly into a bag and dump him in the Thames.’ She pursed her lips. ‘Or give him an acid bath. It’s up to you, really. Cutting him up will be messy but getting hold of acid at this hour won’t be easy.’
Devereau scratched his chin. ‘In that case,’ he said, ‘let’s—’ He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. The man groaned loudly and opened his eyes. Devereau smiled. That had been far too easy. Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t as tough as his compatriot on the roof had been.
‘Don’t hurt me.’
‘Why not?’ Devereau enquired. ‘You tried to kill us. An eye for an eye is only fair.’
The man swallowed, his Adam’s apple jerking visibly in his throat. ‘Not you,’ he said. ‘We weren’t trying to kill you. We only wanted the girl. We were after the girl.’
‘Oh, well that’s alright, then.’ Devereau spread his arms wide in a dramatic, conciliatory gesture. ‘If I’d known you only wanted to kill defenceless children, I wouldn’t have got in the way. Brats, the lot of them. We’re better off without them.’
The man stared at him as if he were unsure if Devereau were being serious or not. Weak and stupid. That was a dangerous combination.
‘How did you know she was here?’ Scarlett asked. ‘Who told you about this address?’
‘No one.’
With deliberate movements, she sauntered over to him then knelt and gazed at the wound on his neck. It was healing surprisingly quickly but it was still crusted with blood. Scarlett grazed it with the tip of her index finger. ‘No prizes for guessing what I’m thinking,’ she said huskily.
‘Stop it!’ The man threw up his arms to hold her off. ‘I’m not lying! Nobody told us where she was because they didn’t have to!’ He pulled up the sleeve of his black shirt and showed them his watch. Its smart screen blinked at them. ‘She’s been tagged. All we have to do is follow the signal.’
Devereau leaned across and ripped the watch off his arm. Fuck. There was a tiny map displayed on the screen with a blinking green dot indicating how close Martina was. ‘You tagged her? You mean like GPS?’
‘Sort of, yeah.’
‘Like she’s some kind of animal?’
‘She is an animal.’
Devereau’s hands curled into tight fists. ‘She’s a kid.’
‘Maybe. But she’s no innocent,’ the man croaked. ‘She’s killed people. I’ve seen her do it.’
‘Uh huh.’ Devereau glared, his eyebrow twitching furiously. ‘You stood by and allowed a child to commit murder through no fault of her own?’
The man paled. ‘She’s a monster.’
Devereau grimaced, bent down and smashed his fist into the man’s face. The man gave a single brief groan before his body went limp.
Scarlett gazed down at him. ‘He’s not faking this time,’ she said. ‘He’s out for the count.’ She glanced at Devereau. ‘That wasn’t a particularly smart thing to do.’
He shook his hand and flexed his fingers. He still didn’t really understand his werewolf strength. ‘No,’ he said shortly, ‘it wasn’t.’ He met her eyes. ‘But it felt fucking good.’
Scarlett simply tutted. ‘Wolves,’ she said with a roll of her eyes. ‘Deep down you’re all the damned same.’
Chapter Twelve
With the gunman unconscious, it was time to explore other avenues of investigation. Unfortunately, Devereau’s reluctance to leave the house was growing.
He was experiencing a combination of invincibility, anger and bloodlust that made him want to stand up and fight any and all comers. A damned army could come after him if they wanted to – but he wasn’t about to put Dr Yara or Martina in harm’s way. An hour ago, they’d been a whisker away from death. He couldn’t allow that to happen again.
‘I’m telling you it will be fine,’ Scarlett said. ‘At the moment, this is the safest damned street in London. Nobody will dare attack it again.’ She leaned out of the window and let out a low whistle, which was immediately answered by several other whistles.
‘I still don’t like it,’ Devereau growled. ‘You’re asking me to put Yara and Martina’s lives in the hands of strangers.’
‘You’re a supe now, Devereau. Things aren’t the same as they were before. The whole of Lisson Grove and Soho might hate you for how you became a wolf, but it doesn’t change the bottom line. You’re one of us. If someone attacked the clans, the vampires would offer their help in a heartbeat and vice-versa. It’s the same for the Others.’ She nodded out at the darkness. ‘In fact, as well as vampires you’ll find four gremlins, three pixies and two ghouls out there.’
‘And a partridge in a pear tree?’
She didn’t smile. ‘You can trust them. Besides, they’re not just here f
or you. This is a supe street in a supe area, and they’re looking after everyone who lives on it.’
‘Until,’ he pointed out, ‘they discover that as well as looking after this street, they’re also guarding an illegally turned werewolf girl who’s wanted for murder.’
‘They won’t find that out if she stays inside where she’s supposed to.’ Scarlett placed a hand on his arm. ‘It’s too dangerous to move her at the moment. Dr Yara thinks that the tracker was placed in her arm – she has a scar there. It’s going to take a few hours to remove it safely. And even if the doctor gets rid the tracker, someone could see Martina and recognise her for what she is…’
‘I know all that,’ he snapped. He pulled his arm away.
Scarlett didn’t flinch. ‘It’s going to get worse,’ she said softly. ‘The closer you get to the full moon, the harder it will be for you to control yourself. And the harder it will be for her. If you can’t get a grip on your rage, you’re going to end up causing far more problems than you’ll ever solve. You don’t have a clan to fall back on for advice and support.’ She paused. ‘But that doesn’t mean you’re alone.’
He bit back his angry reply. ‘You’re putting a lot on the line by helping us. Why bother?’
‘What can I say?’ Scarlett smiled disarmingly. ‘Sometimes my good side gets the better of me.’
For a moment, Devereau didn’t speak, then he rammed his hands into pockets. ‘What did you say to the copper earlier? Fred? What did you tell him to get him to calm down and walk away?’
‘I told him the truth,’ she said simply. ‘First of all that he could trust me to deal with matters appropriately and that I knew what I was doing. And secondly that he couldn’t hold our fling against me. I reminded him that I’d made him no promises, that we had fun together and it was good while it lasted, but we weren’t compatible in the long run.’