by Helen Harper
‘He’s not.’
‘How do you know?’
He gazes at me helplessly. ‘Ms Blackman, you’re not blind. And I’ve seen the dog on television. He’s not trained. Not for anything.’
Sometimes this fame business works for me and sometimes it works against me. I glance at Kimchi who’s enjoying the attention. ‘I guess you’re as famous as I am.’ He wags his tail. ‘Why can’t I bring him in? He’s only a dog, he won’t hurt anyone.’
‘I’m sorry. It’s the rules. I don’t make them.’
I consider the matter. I don’t want the doorman to lose his job by bending the rules for me but I’m not leaving my dog behind. ‘Kimchi,’ I say in the sweetest tone I can muster, ‘attack.’
The guard’s eyes widen and he backs away. Kimchi requires no further encouragement. He bounds towards the man and leaps up, placing both paws on his chest. Then he starts to furiously lick at the buttons on his shirt. I stroll in.
When I reach the bank of lifts, I call Kimchi back to me. He runs over, his ears flapping. ‘You see?’ I say, raising my voice loud enough for the doorman to hear. ‘He is very well trained.’
Kimchi and I walk into the lift, leaving the poor man staring after us, covered in drool.
My presence in the building has clearly been publicised. By the time the lift arrives as D’Argneau’s floor, he’s already waiting. A woman wearing a very short skirt skitters over with a tray and a crystal glass containing blood. I raise my eyebrows. ‘The service around here has definitely improved.’
He gives me a professional smile. ‘We have many triber clients now, Bo, including several vampires. I told you about the Stuart Family, didn’t I? I’ve had to expand. We’ve taken on more than twenty new people.’
‘Good for you,’ I sniff. ‘But it’s not the vampires on your client list that interest me.’
‘Why don’t we go to my office? Your…’ he flicks a distasteful look at Kimchi ‘…animal can wait out here.’
‘The dog stays with me. And I don’t need to go to your office. I just want to know why you took on those two new clients last night.’
‘I don’t know who you mean,’ he replies smoothly.
I take a step towards him. The woman stiffens and backs away but D’Argneau doesn’t flinch. ‘Oh,’ I purr, ‘I think you do.’
‘Andrew Wyatt and Steven Creed, you mean?’
I file away their names. That was easier than I thought it would be. ‘Why?’ I demand. ‘Why take them on? They’re not tribers. Did they call you?’
‘Everyone deserves legal representation, Bo.’
‘Yes, but you’re a triber-hungry megalomaniac. You wouldn’t sign them up unless there was something in it for you. I want to know what.’
‘My office?’ His face takes on a strained quality. ‘Please? You can bring the, er, dog.’
I mull it over then acquiesce gracefully. I was enjoying having it out with him in front of all his employees. If it means he gives me more information, however, I can switch to privacy.
D’Argneau smiles in relief then gestures at me to follow. We pass row upon row of cubicles and glass-fronted rooms. I’m watched from every single one. I relax my shoulders and wave, like I’m the Queen.
Once we’re inside D’Argneau’s sanctuary, he offers me a seat. I decline politely.
‘I’m not sure exactly why you’re here, Bo,’ he says, perching on the edge of his desk. ‘Client privilege…’
‘I’m not asking for state secrets, D’Argneau,’ I spit. ‘I want to know how you got hired and why you took the case.’
He sighs dramatically and runs a hand through his tawny hair, giving a good impression of someone under pressure. ‘If it was anyone else, I would ask you to leave.’
‘Give it up. You’re not fooling me for a second.’
His eyes meet mine then he grins and shrugs. ‘Fair enough.’ He opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a single white card, about A5 size. ‘Here.’ He throws it to me. ‘This was couriered to me at around one o’clock in the morning.’
I stiffen. By my reckoning, that was before O’Shea and I had entered the gift shop. I read the carefully inked words.
Two humans may be arrested tonight in the vicinity of the Renfrew mansion. Ensure their swift release and you will be rewarded.
‘That’s it?’
‘It was a simple matter to scan the police frequencies and find out what had happened.’ He looks at me pointedly. ‘I knew you were involved, of course.’
I shake my head in confusion. ‘Why would you care?’ I wave the card around. ‘This doesn’t mean anything at all.’
D’Argneau’s expression is patient. ‘Dear Bo. Do you mean to tell me that if you received a mysterious message in the middle of the night you would ignore it? A note like that would appeal to anyone.’ His eyes light up. ‘The mystery and drama of it all!’
‘It could have been a practical joke!’
He tuts. ‘The Renfrew mansion? After all that business with the ear? Even if it were a joke, do you think I’d go to sleep and forget about it? No go, Bo.’ He smirks. ‘If this Tobias Renfrew investigation is continuing, I want some of the action. Besides, my time was well spent.’
I stare at him suspiciously. ‘What do you mean?’
He grins, reaches for his briefcase and opens it up with a flourish. ‘My retainer.’
Three shiny gold bars nestle inside. D’Argneau picks one up. ‘You can hold it if you want to. It’s not as heavy as you’d think but I can assure you it’s the real thing.’
‘These came with the note?’
‘No. They arrived upon my return, once I’d secured Wyatt and Creed’s release.’ He winks at me. ‘Someone was paying close attention and it wasn’t only you.’
‘The courier…?’
‘He was questioned, naturally. He knew nothing. It was an anonymous drop, set up online.’ D’Argneau leans towards me, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. ‘I don’t know about you but I’m excited.’
I roll my eyes, even though part of me unwillingly agrees. ‘Why you?’ I demand.
He looks offended. ‘Why not me? I’m a good lawyer.’
‘No. There’s another reason.’ I think it over. I’m betting it has something to do with me and my association with him. I don’t need to tell him that though. ‘Why does Michael Montserrat seem to think there’s something going on between us?’ I enquire, still wondering what led to his pissed-off phone call last night.
‘Lord Montserrat believes we’re having a fling?’ D’Argneau looks pleased. ‘Interesting. It could work, you know. After all, we almost had a night of steamy passion. The Red Angel and the lawyer. It has a nice ring to it.’
‘We did not almost have a night of passion. It was almost a night of seedy stupidity. And,’ I enunciate, ‘the key word is almost.’ I look at Kimchi, who’s sniffing at the gold bars with interest. ‘Come on. We’re leaving.’
He barks in response. I straighten my back and point at D’Argneau. ‘If you get any more of these cards, you let me know.’
‘I don’t work for you, Bo. Unless you want to revisit the passion aspect…’
I snort loudly and stalk out.
*
I’m still thrumming with irritation when I walk back outside but I take the time to smile politely at the doorman who keeps well away from Kimchi. ‘If anyone gives you any trouble because of him,’ I say, ‘give me a ring.’ I throw him a New Order business card.
‘Uh, thanks,’ he stammers. ‘Your car is waiting at the side of the road.’
I frown at him. ‘Car?’ I look over and see a sleek, midnight-blue limousine less than twenty metres away. I bite my lip. This could be interesting.
I tug at Kimchi’s lead to stop him licking the doorman again and stroll over. My heart rate pick up but that’s definitely because I’m still angry at D’Argneau for getting in my way. Definitely.
I rap on the passenger window. It winds down smoothly and Michael’s dark, impas
sive face glances out at me. ‘Hey!’ I say brightly. ‘Are you still in a mood?’
His eyebrows fly up. ‘A mood? I’m not a teenager, Bo.’
‘Then what do you call the way you acted on the phone last night?’
‘So you’re allowed to blow hot and cold all the time but the moment I get annoyed, I’m immature?’
‘That’s not what I said.’ Not exactly.
‘Why are you here anyway? What does that lawyer have?’
I purse my lips. ‘A white card and three gold bars.’
Michael frowns but before he can ask what I mean there’s a shout from the other side of the street. ‘Ms Blackman! I want to talk to you!’
I realise with a sinking sensation that it’s Arbuckle. It’s obviously taken her all of two minutes to realise I’m not dropping the Tobias Renfrew case. Maybe crawling around the Renfrew mansion and getting half of London’s police force to meet me there gave the game away.
‘Actually,’ I say to Michael, making a quick decision, ‘if you give me a lift, I’ll explain everything.’
‘Someone you’re trying to avoid?’ he asks, less irritated now.
‘You could say that.’
He scans my face. I wish I knew what he’s thinking. ‘Fine,’ he answers slowly, ‘but you need to kiss me first.’
I blink. ‘Eh?’
‘There are a few cameras around, if you hadn’t noticed. Half the world thinks you have a thing with Medici. We need to disabuse them of that notion.’
Arbuckle is weaving across the road. Damn it. ‘Make it quick,’ I mutter, bending my head down.
Even though I’m expecting it, the kiss still takes me by surprise. Michael’s hand snakes round my neck and his mouth is hard and possessive. There’s a smattering of flashes from behind as the followers and journalists snap away gleefully. I barely notice them. I can taste an odd mixture of salty blood and heady masculinity from Michael’s tongue and there’s a flutter deep in the pit of my stomach. Alright, less my stomach and more my loins. I reach in, one hand grazing the stubble on his cheek. Why does this have to feel so damn good?
‘Ms Blackman!’ Colonel Arbuckle says from a few feet away.
I growl, a strange rumbling sound deep in my throat. Michael pulls away and the car door opens. I get in.
‘Ms Blackman!’
The door closes behind me. Michael watches me with an unfathomable expression on his face. Arbuckle raps loudly on the window but we ignore her as the car moves off. Michael’s fingers twitch an inch away from mine. ‘Who was that?’
I swallow, trying to get my pulse under control. ‘Army.’
‘Let me guess,’ he says drily. ‘Tobias Renfrew.’
‘How did you know?’
He laughs. ‘It would hardly take a genius, Bo. I knew you’d go after him sooner or later. He has to be mixed up in this ear business. He was originally a military man too. Unless you’ve decided to sign up, I can’t think of any other reason why the army would bother with you.’
‘You don’t think I’m worth bothering with?’ I hate the fact that my voice still sounds breathy.
He gives a crooked smile. ‘Oh, I didn’t say that.’ He raises his hand and brushes a loose strand of hair away from my face. ‘Now, tell me what the fuck is going on with D’Argneau.’
His abrupt change in tone takes me aback. Still unsure why he’s so pissed off about the lawyer, I explain what happened last night. His eyes spark. ‘You keep forgetting that you’re still a fledgling vampire. You need to take more care. If you’re caught outside when the sun rises…’
I hold up my hand. ‘I know, I know.’
He leans forward. ‘That story doesn’t explain why you were out with him the other night.’
‘What do you mean?’
He sighs, reaches into a folder and slides out a glossy magazine. The pages are twisted and ripped as if Kimchi had gotten hold of it and chewed it up. Michael flicks to the centre pages and points. ‘There,’ he says flatly.
I glance down. There’s a full-page photo of D’Argneau and me. His hand rests on my shoulder and he’s licking his lips suggestively. I groan inwardly. It’s one of the selfies from the bar. The only way the magazine could have got this is if D’Argneau himself gave it to them. Prick. I wish I’d known about it half an hour ago when I confronted him.
‘It’s nothing,’ I say. ‘I met him in a pub to see if he could help me get hold of a time bubble. He couldn’t.’
Michael scans my face. Eventually he nods. ‘While we continue our relationship,’ he begins.
‘Such as it is.’
‘Such as it is,’ he nods, although I see a faint tightening around his mouth, ‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t see him. It will only muddy the waters. Things are bad enough after Medici’s little display.’
I don’t want to see D’Argneau at all but I might be forced to. ‘Nothing’s going on between us, it’s business. I can’t promise I won’t meet him again. Whoever is pulling the strings of those bastards from last night has involved him.’
Michael is silent for a moment then he lifts his chin. ‘Fine. But at least don’t meet him alone. Take O’Shea or Connor with you.’
I want to tell him he has no right to be jealous – and certainly not of bloody D’Argneau – but I’m reminded of how I felt at the restaurant when I learned that Michael had taken other dates there. I had no right to be jealous either. ‘OK,’ I say softly. ‘That much I can do.’
‘Thank you.’
We look at each other. The silence stretches out between us. Prickles dance across my skin. I drop my gaze. ‘Are we going on another date now?’ I finally ask.
‘Would you like to?’
I would. I bite my lip and nod. Unfortunately at that moment the car stops and the driver, a Montserrat vampire I recognise from my time with the Family, opens the divide with an apologetic look. ‘I’m sorry, Lord Montserrat. There’s a call coming in.’
‘Tell them I’m busy.’
‘It’s Ursus. He says it’s urgent.’
Michael curses and takes the phone. I turn away to give him some privacy and look out of the window but as he talks, he reaches out for my hand and squeezes it.
When he hangs up, he sighs. ‘I’m sorry. We need to take a rain check.’
I push away my disappointment. ‘Anything I can help with?’
‘No, it’s better if I deal with this alone. Medici has turned up on Gully’s doorstep and is demanding all the Family Heads meet for a vote on contacting the Kakos daemons to see if they’d like to work with us.’
My mind flies to X and I gulp. ‘Kakos daemons don’t work with anyone else.’
‘Not to mention that they’re bloodthirsty monsters who slaughter everyone they come across.’ He flashes me a grin. ‘Present company excluded of course.’
I try to smile. I don’t do a very good job.
‘No,’ Michael continues, ‘Medici is trying to cause more problems. There are rumours that Lord Stuart used to have a business agreement with a Kakos daemon. It’s all nonsense but he’ll use it drive a wedge between us.’
‘He probably doesn’t like that the four other Families are working together more closely than they ever have before,’ I murmur, wondering whether the information about Stuart’s ‘agreement’ is true.
‘Probably,’ he agrees. ‘Shall I drop you back at New Order?’
‘Yeah, I guess.’ No doubt my grandfather will have heard about last night’s antics and will be waiting to scold me. Frankly, it’s a miracle he didn’t barge into my flat again to do just that; I probably only escaped because I was woken up so early. As long as he doesn’t find out about my visit to Brigstone, I’ll probably survive.
CHAPTER TWELVE: Pizza, Salad and Beer
‘What in the world were you thinking of, Bo?’ my grandfather bawls. ‘Storming an army base? It’s … it’s…’
I’ve never seen him lost for words before. ‘Preposterous?’ I ask, squirming.
‘Exactly!’
The Stuart, Gully and Bancroft representatives depart hastily. Even Arzo seems to have vanished. The only people who remain in the office are Connor, Matt and, irritatingly, Dahlia.
‘Did O’Shea grass me up?’
‘That poor excuse for a daemon? No, he did not.’
I frown. ‘Then who?’
My grandfather marches to his office door and pushes it open. Sitting primly inside, with the damn cat on her lap, is Colonel Arbuckle. My stomach sinks.
‘Oh.’
‘That’s all you have to say? Oh?’
I sigh and meet Arbuckle’s eyes. ‘I thought you didn’t want our paths to cross again.’
‘And I thought you were going to leave this Tobias Renfrew business alone,’ she says.
‘You’re chasing ghosts,’ my grandfather thunders. ‘The man is dead.’
Considering he was already aware of my investigation into the daemon billionaire, his anger is too obvious. The canny bastard is playing up for Arbuckle’s benefit. He’s clearly not happy that I breached Brigstone but the old man is more on my side than hers. The knowledge is remarkably satisfying.
‘I’m not so sure,’ I say calmly, raising my eyebrows at the colonel.
‘How much proof do you require, Ms Blackman?’
I tilt my chin. ‘Your secret photo was staged.’
She seems taken aback. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
I watch her carefully. Arbuckle is far too young to have been involved in Renfrew’s disappearance. She’s probably as much in the dark as the rest of us. ‘He was left handed,’ I tell her.
‘So?’ she sneers.
I wait. It takes a second or two for her face to drop. ‘There you go.’ I fold my arms.
My grandfather looks from her to me. ‘Would you like to explain?’
I shrug. ‘I can’t. It’s classified.’
Arbuckle hisses in annoyance. ‘We have a file,’ she says. ‘And a photo of Renfrew’s corpse.’
Dahlia gasps audibly.
‘Supposed photo,’ I remark, enjoying the fact that everyone in the room is sitting up straighter.
Arbuckle stands up, ignoring my grandfather’s cat that takes umbrage at being dumped unceremoniously onto the floor and swipes at her leg. ‘I will look into this further,’ she says stiffly, then stalks out.