by Helen Harper
‘Tegs, you’re not going to…’
‘I’m going to do whatever’s necessary to keep myself and my family safe,’ I said. ‘No matter what.’
*
Wearing a far more sensible, if boring, black ensemble, I strolled onto the pavement, whistling a merry tune. I glanced up one way and down another. Two Sidhe were sitting in a car directly opposite, and there was a shadow in an alcove about fifty feet away. I pursed my lips. I could handle three of them. This was my territory, after all – not theirs.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and ambled to my left. Keeping my pace measured and my steps short, I didn’t stop anywhere but neither did I rush. Losing a tail was a game of patience and wit more than anything else.
I nodded to a few familiar faces, murmuring greetings. I didn’t let anyone engage me in conversation but I needed my three followers to think I was relaxed and going about my business before handing myself over to them. That’s why I made a beeline for the post office.
It was pension day so even though it was already after midday, the place was busy with people waiting to collect their money. Pensions weren’t something that the Sidhe had to worry about, I thought sourly, as my gaze travelled the length of the waiting area. Everyone here was, unsurprisingly, Clan-less, from the short dwarf with wrinkles so deep you could probably hide coins in them to the stooped human in a headscarf.
Instead of joining the queue, I went to the side, pulled an envelope out of my pocket and scribbled out an address. I didn’t have a stamp but I didn’t really need one. I simply walked over to the gap marked ‘international mail’ and dropped it in. I made a brief show of looking round anxiously in case anyone had noticed me, then left again.
At the corner, as I waited for the lights to change, I used the glass front of a nearby shop to scan behind me. As I expected, one of my followers – all of whom were now helpfully on foot – peeled off and entered the post office, no doubt to try and retrieve my letter. The post office didn’t like people messing with their systems, even if those people were well-connected Sidhe, so it would take him some time to do it. One down. Two to go.
It was interesting to note that one of the remaining tails was Mr Dimples. I wondered whether he still had the Lia Saifire on him. There wasn’t any noticeable bulge in his pockets but you never knew. Whether he had it or not, there was another pleasing bulge in his trousers that I enjoyed. Handsome and well-endowed. Well, well, well.
The moment the green man appeared, I crossed over, maintaining my earlier speed. This time, however, I lengthened my strides so I covered more ground more quickly. They would be expecting me to keep the same pace and it would take them a minute or two to realise that I was pulling away. It was a simple trick, but a good one. It was also well-timed as there was a set of crossroads ahead.
I checked my watch. 12.28pm. Perfect. I kept to the side of the pavement so my shoulder was almost brushing against the tall buildings on my left. A minute and a half later, I was at the MacReedy building just as the glass doors opened to let the vast secretarial department sprint out for lunch.
I hunched down, taking my battered baseball cap from my jacket pocket –it was the very same cap that Taylor gave me all those years ago – and jammed it on my head, tucking my hair underneath. Then I pushed my way through the crowd, zipped round the corner and ran.
Del’s Coffee, a grubby dive of a place, was less than thirty feet away. I weaved my way in and out of the busy foot traffic and ducked inside. It might serve coffee that you’d be inclined to avoid if you didn’t want to end up juddering for the rest of the day on a serious caffeine high but, with two exits, the place was ideal for me.
I sped through, throwing out a quick wave to the eponymous Del, the one-horned Bonnacon who ran the place.
‘Hey, Integrity. Bit of a speed merchant today, ain’t ya?’
‘I only sell to friends,’ I threw over my shoulder as I opened the door opposite and continued. I ran into a nearby pawnshop to check on my pursuers. Running around on the streets like a crazy person would ensure they caught up with me again; hiding was far smarter.
‘You wanna buy something or not?’
I twisted round, spotting the shop owner behind the cage that protected him from his less savoury customers. He eyed me with a hard look that warned of trouble. His hand hovered somewhere beneath the counter. Either there was a gun or a panic button under there. Right now, I’d prefer the gun; I didn’t want to attract any undue attention. I weighed up my choices and made a decision.
‘Here,’ I said, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a five-pound note. ‘I’ll be out of your hair in less than two minutes.’
His frown deepened. I cursed under my breath and took out another one. ‘Will that do you?’
The owner didn’t answer; he merely turned and hobbled away. That was an expensive sodding two minutes. Rather than dwell on it, I turned round to get a decent line of sight on Del’s. It was just as well – I’d barely manoeuvred myself into position when Dimples burst out of the cafe, his head frantically turning from right to left. No prizes for guessing who he was looking for.
When the second tail didn’t appear, I grinned. They must have split up to better their chances of finding me.
I crouched down, still keeping an eye on Byron’s second-in-command. He couldn’t seem to make up his mind which way to go. There was a chance that he’d try the pawnshop but he had plenty of other avenues to consider. My luck was in. He went right, jogging away from both the pawnshop and me. Now all I had to was to get out.
I stretched up to the bell hanging from the door, yanked it off and tossed it away. I didn’t need it jangling; if Dimples heard it, he’d definitely turn around. Besides, ten quid for a dirty piece of junk like that? The shopkeeper was still getting a bargain.
If he heard what I’d done, he didn’t come back out to investigate. Smart move on his part, I decided. I didn’t fight but he didn’t know that.
I sneaked back out into the street, shivering as a gust of wind whipped my hat straight off my head. I lunged for it but it was too late. It flew away, tumbling down the quiet back street like a ball of tumbleweed in one of those old Western films. The ones where there was about to be a terrible shoot out.
That hat was an important part of my history and I didn’t want to lose it. I gave a quick look to see if Dimples was still in play. His shoulders were slumped and he was trudging away, not turning round. I smiled smugly. He knew he’d lost me.
Staying light on my feet, I ran after him ‒ or rather I ran after my hat. I just managed to snag it before there was another gust of wind. Giving the cap an affectionate pat, I put it back on and double-checked Dimples. He was oblivious to what was going on behind him. I did a little jig, causing a scurrying rat to pause and blink at me. I shrugged at it. ‘You’re right,’ I whispered. ‘It’s time to go.’
I was just about to head off in the opposite direction when I noticed Dimples’ backpack. There wasn’t much of a bulge to it, which was probably why it hadn’t registered before. I gnawed my bottom lip. The bag didn’t fit with his tailored suit. It was a strange thing to carry unless… My smile grew wider. He still had the Lia Saifire with him.
In theory, snatching the jewel was now a waste of time. No matter what I did, Byron was going to hold me to my promise to open the Foinse. But it was a matter of professional pride; I wanted the arrogant playboy to know that he still wasn’t completely in control.
I licked my lips. This was not the clever thing to do but it would be fun.
I jogged forward on the balls of my feet. If I could get close enough, I could probably swipe it. There was one seriously nervy moment when Dimples looked round. I was saved by a collection of mouldy cardboard boxes outside a door; I threw myself behind them, my heart hammering. When there was no shout or sound of feet thundering in my direction, I peered up. Dimples was blithely continuing on his way. Excellent.
When I got closer, I slowed my pace. One stretch of my arm a
nd I’d be able to reach the backpack. I matched Dimples step for step so he wouldn’t realise anyone was right behind him and eyed the bag. It was beyond ridiculous that the Lia Saifire would be in there. Firstly, taking it on a stake-out would be stupid. Secondly, leaving it in an unlocked backpack in this neighbourhood was dumber than surfing on Ben Nevis. There was no way the jewel was in there. I should have turned back round immediately and got on with what I was supposed to be doing. My fingers were itchy, however. I just couldn’t help myself.
Pickpocketing is a hell of a lot easier than most people suppose. It just takes a delicate touch. Holding my breath, I reached forward and grabbed the edge of the zip, sliding it open two inches. Then I slipped my hand inside. My fingers brushed against something soft and velvet and I pulled it. Whatever it was, it was heavy. I pulled a bit harder, just as there was a sudden ring.
I froze, my hand still inside his backpack. He stopped, forcing me to stop as well, dug into his suit pocket and took out a shiny phone.
‘Yeah,’ he grunted.
I started tugging again, gently lifting the object towards the opening.
‘No sign of her. Byron’s going to be seriously pissed off.’
The velvet snagged on the edge of the zip. Shite, shite, shite. I was rusty. It had been a long time since I’d bothered with the sort of small ticket items you could get from this type of theft.
‘We should double back. She might go back home.’
Just as I thought I was going to have to use my teeth, I managed to free the fabric and pull away. In my hand was a small black velvet bag, tied with a gold string. Whatever was inside, it was going to be valuable. Even if it wasn’t the Lia Saifire, it was still satisfying. I carefully closed the zip again, something many pickpockets didn’t bother with. Taking the time – and the risk – to do it meant it would be longer before he noticed that anything was amiss.
I sidestepped left just as Dimples went right and headed back the long way. The moment I was sure there was enough distance between us, I pressed myself against the wall until he’d vanished completely. Then I opened the bag. The deep-faceted blue of the Lia Saifire blinked up at me.
Crapadoodledo. Go me.
Chapter Ten
The small bar on the edge of St. Andrews Square was smoky and reeked of stale beer. I cast my eyes around, quickly alighting on Lexie who was sitting in the far corner, nursing some strange green concoction. It was so lurid in colour that I was briefly reminded of Byron’s eyes. Ick. I didn’t want to give him a single thought. Not unless it involved stripping him of all his wealth (and maybe his clothes too).
I slid into the seat opposite. ‘Piss off,’ Lexie grunted, without looking up.
‘Hey,’ I said softly. ‘It’s me.’
Her head jerked up and her face filled with relief. ‘Integrity! Where the hell have you been? What’s been going on? Why haven’t you been in touch? Have you heard from Brochan or Speck? Do you know if I’m in danger? What about…’
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa.’ I raised my palms. ‘Chill, Lex. Everything’s good.’
She gazed at me like I was a total idiot. ‘Good? Good? How can everything be good?’
I winced. ‘Keep your voice down. You need to keep a low profile, remember?’
She subsided into a series of blue-tinged grumbles.
‘That’s better,’ I said, like a disapproving teacher. ‘How many of those have you had?’
She tapped her glass. ‘These? I dunno. Half a dozen maybe.’
I eyed the drink with distaste. ‘What’s in it?’
‘Crème de menthe, vodka and Amaretto. Want to try?’
Eurgh. ‘No thanks.’ I caught the attention of the bartender. ‘Jug of coffee, please. And make it strong.’
‘You’re no fun. I’m drowning my sorrows. You should join me.’
‘I have things to do. And so do you.’
‘Yeah? Like what?’
I took out the velvet bag and threw it on the table. It clunked heavily against the wood. Lexie looked at it and then at me. She took another sip of her green monster before curiosity got the better of her. She picked up the bag and peered inside it.
I waited. When her jaw dropped and her eyes went wide, I grinned.
‘How…?’ she breathed.
‘Long story. Taylor can fill you in on the details later.’
She shook her head with incredible vehemence. ‘No way. You can ply me with all the coffee you like and give me as many priceless jewels as you can find but I’m not venturing out there again. I’m not going to prison, Tegs.’
About this, at least, I was confident. ‘You’re not going to go to prison,’ I told her. ‘They’re no longer looking for you.’
‘Yeah?’ She did a good impression of one of those disbelieving women you get on daytime chat shows when they’re told their husbands have been cheating on them.
‘Yes,’ I replied firmly. ‘It was me they were after and they’ve got me.’
Lexie blinked. ‘Eh?’
‘Like I said, Taylor will fill you in. What you two need to do is to get hold of the buyer and get rid of that.’ I nodded towards the Lia Saifire. Recovering it had opened up a whole host of options. ‘With the money, hire the meanest, nastiest lawyer in town. Get Speck and Brochan released, even if it’s only on bail. Once that’s done, you need to talk to Charlie.’
‘Who?’
‘My neighbour. He deals in a lot of black-market stuff. One of things which he professes to have is a device that will temporarily negate the barrier spells the Sidhe have put around the Clan areas. All four of you have to get to the Cruaich.’
Lexie’s face paled. ‘That’s where the Sidhe court is.’
‘Yup. Get there. Find somewhere to hide. Every night at midnight, set off our signal. I’ll come and find you. If five nights pass and I don’t come for you then get the hell out of there and don’t look back.’
She stared at me. The bartender appeared out of nowhere and slammed the coffee jug down on the table between us. We both jumped.
‘Got it?’ I asked her softly.
She nodded. ‘I’m not dreaming, am I? I don’t think there’s absinthe my drink but I could be mistaken. It’s happened before…’
I pointed at the coffee and stood up. ‘Drink that before you leave,’ I instructed. ‘All of it.’
*
Less than two hours later, I was standing in front of the gates leading to the Cruaich with a small pink suitcase in tow. As with many places in Scotland, it hadn’t been easy to get here. So much for the joys of living in a rural location; not for the first time, I wished someone had invented the Star Trek transporters for real. Public transport was a pain in the arse.
I tugged at my case. I was hoping it wouldn’t take long to do this Foinse business but it never hurt to come prepared. There weren’t any guards on duty although, with the magical barrier in place, there really didn’t need to be. I guessed that although the Sidhe knew the magic was failing, they weren’t expecting it to happen today.
I took off my hat and ran my fingers through my hair, getting rid of any tangles. I’d swapped my trainers for a pair of high stiletto boots. I’d paid a cobbler to paint over the soles for me in lacquered hot pink. They weren’t Christian Louboutin - they were better. Dressing to kill always made me more confident and I was going to need all the confidence I could muster. I’d even managed to paint my nails on the way here in the taxi and it took a steady hand to achieve that sort of art. The colour matched the shoes. Naturally. I was going to show all those Sidhe wankers ‒ Byron included ‒ that I wasn’t afraid of them.
Just in case someone was watching, I tossed my hair disdainfully. The wind caught it and a halo of white flew up around my head. Even I had to admit it was impressive. Still looking like an avenging angel, with Mother Nature herself at my beck and call, I stepped through.
If I’d been here when I was a kid, I didn’t remember it. Cruaich in Gaelic translates as ‘hill’. What wasn’t apparent from t
he other side of the barrier was the vast castle on top of that hill. The length of the driveway wasn’t obvious either. I glanced down at my shoes. Maybe I should have worn my trainers after all. I shrugged. Well, I was here now. It wasn’t the time to start rummaging through my bag.
I started walking. The trees here were different to the ones on the other side; their leaves were greener and their branches spread further. They were also considerably more gnarled, attesting to their age. A faint memory tugged at me as I strode upwards, one involving my far younger self clambering up a similar specimen to retrieve a particularly delicious-looking apple. As I recall, I fell long before I reached my goal and received a sharp scolding as a result. Not that getting a scolding was anything out of the ordinary for me. Not back then.
I allowed the memories to flood over me. Almost every single one was unhappy and they bolstered my feelings of antipathy. The Sidhe weren’t likely to convince me with their tales of ‘oh, but we’re saving the world’ as long as I could remember how they’d treated one solitary orphan.
I was halfway up the drive, my expression grim and my heart hard, when I spotted someone. Unmistakably Sidhe. He came right out of the main gate, standing to one side as I approached. Whoever he was, he didn’t appear to be doing anything other than watching me. Not long after, he was joined by another one. Then another and another and another.
By the time I’d gone another sixty steps, there must have been a hundred Sidhe watching me. None of them uttered a single word. It was seriously creepy. I could feel my stomach in knots. What exactly were they planning? I was no match for one well-trained Sidhe, let alone this number. However if they tried to rip me to shreds, they’d have no chance with the Foinse. If they were going to use words to intimidate me … well, I was sure I’d heard worse in my time. I stiffened my resolve. How bad could this be?
When I reached the first watcher, I made a point of refusing to look at him. There was a sudden movement and I tensed, waiting for the attack to come. There was nothing. The next Sidhe also moved, followed by the one after that. One by one, each of the watching Sidhe copied the next. At first I couldn’t work it out; it was like some strange Fey Mexican wave. When I finally looked over and realised what they were doing, it hit me like a painful bolt in the chest. They were bowing. To me.