by Helen Harper
The only good thing about Medici’s actions is that there are only a few journalists hanging around to get a statement when I leave the hospital. I’ve obviously been surpassed in the news stakes. I mumble something about the hospital staff doing everything they can before marching off, leaving them to shout empty questions after me about Medici’s move.
New Order, when I return, is as silent as the grave. All the Stuart, Gully and Bancroft reps have vanished. They’ve probably been called home to deal with the upcoming Medici confrontation.
The teacup my grandfather was drinking from has also gone. I frown at the space where it stood and go to Dahlia’s desk, pulling open drawer after drawer. There’s an incredible array of make-up but nothing incriminating: but then she’s too smart to leave anything lying around.
I gnaw on my cheek. I have a fairly good idea where she is right now. I could knock down Arzo’s door and demand to speak to her. I take my white pebble out of my pocket and lay it on her desk instead, staring at it. I’m going to need proof first – but I have no idea how to get it.
I’m gazing into space and working through various scenarios when I hear the familiar voices of O’Shea and Connor float up the stairs. There’s a loud bark and Kimchi appears, his lead trailing behind him. He leaps up onto my lap, squashing me beneath his weight, and subjects me to several delighted slobbery licks. I ignore his doggy breath and let him have his way. It’s actually rather comforting.
‘Hi, Bo.’
I peer round Kimchi. Both Connor and O’Shea look uncomfortable. ‘I hope you don’t mind. We weren’t sure when you’d be back so we took Kimchi out for a run. We managed to persuade all the Brownslow kids to get together. Not that they’re really kids any more, they’re in their forties. Matt’s babysitting for now so we can keep an eye on them in shifts.’
‘Thank you. I appreciate it.’
‘How’s Mr Blackman?’
I shrug, willing myself not to cry. ‘Stable for now.’ I push the dog off and stand up, brushing the hairs from my clothes.
‘We heard what happened with Dahlia.’
O’Shea nods grimly. ‘Say the word, Bo, and we’ll be right with you. We can go after her now. I’m ready. I was born ready.’
I offer him a half smile. ‘No one believes it was her.’
‘You believe. That’s enough for me.’
‘Thank you,’ I say quietly. ‘But I need to get some evidence. With everything that Medici’s doing right now, I’m not sure if there’s a way to get it.’
‘You’ll think of something. You’re the Red Angel.’ For once his tone is serious rather than playful and I look at him gratefully.
‘The hospital’s going to call me if anything happens. But I can’t sit around here and do nothing, even if I can’t think of a way to force Dahlia into telling the truth. I need to do something else.’
‘Whatever you need.’
I go to my desk. Renfrew’s painting is still there, undisturbed; that’s something at least. I show it to the pair of them.
O’Shea’s brow furrows. ‘That looks familiar.’
‘It’s from Renfrew’s mansion. I need you to take it to Merlin. Don’t let it out of your sight.’
Connor cocks his head, obviously confused. ‘Merlin?’
‘I’ll explain later,’ O’Shea says. Connor gives him a soft smile and I watch as the pair of them gaze into each other’s eyes. The connection they feel is unmistakable. I swallow hard and look away.
‘What are you going to do, Bo?’
‘I’m going to track down a certain army colonel.’
I have a theory.
*
I wait for Arbuckle in the same copse of trees where we first met. She knew I was here last time so I’m counting on her knowing again. I make little effort to conceal my presence; I want her to come.
When she arrives, only the sound of a snapped twig alerts me to her approach. ‘You move quietly for a human,’ I say.
She steps forward. The moonlight filters through the trees, lighting up one side of her face. Her hair is still tightly wound into a bun. I wonder if she ever unties it.
‘I’ve had a lot of training,’ she says calmly. ‘I didn’t always spend my days hanging around army bases dealing with trivial matters.’
‘You’re one of those soldiers who prefers the glory of war?’
Her strange eyes harden. ‘There’s no glory to be had in death, Ms Blackman.’
‘Then why do so many seek it?’
She doesn’t answer. Only the faintest tightening around her mouth tells me she heard my question. I shrug: her views on the politics of killing aren’t why I’m here. Not entirely.
‘I was at a house last night,’ I tell her. ‘One single occupant, a man called Alan Deutscher. We had a chat then he put a bullet in his brain.’
Arbuckle’s expression barely wavers. ‘He must have felt he’d done something very wrong to merit suicide.’
‘He was indeed sorry for his actions. As awful as they were.’
She meets my eyes. ‘How did you know?’
Yahtzee. I let out the breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. ‘You wear coloured contact lenses. You’re not as human as you want everyone to think. I didn’t understood why you wanted to hide your daemon side but now I think I do.’
‘I’m only half daemon.’
‘Your father’s side,’ I say quietly. ‘Does the army know?’
‘Let’s be clear, Ms Blackman. I am not ashamed of that part of me. The army knows what I am, mandatory blood testing sees to that. But when people see human they don’t think to make other … connections.’
‘Like family resemblances?’ I ask. ‘Do they test your DNA when they test your blood?’
‘I think we both know the answer to that is no.’
‘Because you followed in your father’s footsteps and joined the army too.’
Arbuckle adjusts her cuffs. ‘I like to think I’ve been more … committed than he was.’
I nod my head. ‘You didn’t come back to New Order. You stormed in with your tales of my illegal activity and, when I pointed out the errors in the photo, you left again in a hurry. You were going to investigate it.’ I lean forward. ‘What did you discover?’
‘I don’t answer to you.’
I smile humourlessly. ‘No, you don’t. Which is why it didn’t make sense that you showed me that classified file in the first place. Or that it even exists. People generally aren’t good at keeping secrets, Colonel. Sooner or later there’s always a whistle-blower. Even if the reasons for keeping Tobias Renfrew’s death to yourselves made sense, it’s impossible that someone wouldn’t leak it.’
‘The military isn’t like the general public,’ she sneers. ‘We take our duty seriously.’
‘So do MI7. And they knew nothing about it.’
‘They’re not as competent as they like to think.’
‘Actually,’ I say quietly, thinking of my grandfather, ‘they are. You doctored that photo yourself, didn’t you? A bit of Photoshop to throw anyone off the scent who came calling. You really did plan things out carefully. One might almost say with military precision.’
She folds her arms. ‘The photo wasn’t for someone like you,’ she says finally.
‘It was for the people you hired, right? In case they got curious and thought there could be more in it for them?’
For a moment, I think she’s not going to answer. Then she takes a deep breath and nods reluctantly. ‘I wanted to keep them under control. They’re mercenaries, their bottom line is money. I paid them enough to draw them in and to make them think there was a lot more. And that I knew exactly where it was.’
‘Because you had access to secret military files, not because you are Tobias Renfrew’s legitimate heir.’
‘If they knew that, don’t you think they’d have treated me rather differently?’ she enquires. ‘I’d have become their toy instead of the other way around.’ Her face shadows. ‘Maybe that would have been
best.’
‘Tobias Renfrew’s fortune is locked away. Where did you get the gold from?’
‘My nanny had access to some funds he’d hidden away. She didn’t use them for herself. She was a good woman who gave up her life to look after me. I was only ten months old when my parents were murdered.’ Something inside me responds to her words but I don’t let my expression betray my thoughts. Arbuckle continues. ‘She died four months ago.’
‘Right before Madeline Gregory was murdered,’ I say, suddenly understanding. ‘You waited until your nanny was dead before you took your revenge.’
Arbuckle closes her eyes for a moment. ‘She wouldn’t have liked it. She thought the past should stay in the past. And she wanted to keep me safe.’
So much for that then. ‘I’ve learnt quite a lot about revenge since I became a vampire,’ I tell her. ‘The ins and outs of it. The way it can consume people and make them act out of character.’ Dahlia’s face flashes into my mind. ‘I do understand it. I understand how it can become a driving force. Hurting the trustees makes sense. They destroyed the life you could have had. Chopping off their children’s ears and piercing them with a ruby also makes sense. You wanted to give them a sign and make them think that Tobias Renfrew was after them. It would have scared them shitless.’ I purse my lips. There’s a symmetry to that last action that’s almost artistic. I clear my throat. ‘What I don’t understand, Colonel, is why you’d want the children dead. Their parents certainly. But their kids? They did nothing wrong.’
Arbuckle stares at me. ‘That’s not what you really want to know, is it? You want to know why I had the Agathos Court bombed, why I had a school attacked. Why you had a rescue a teenage boy from certain death.’
I tighten my jaw. ‘OK,’ I say. ‘You’re right. That is what I want to know.’
She leans against the trunk of a nearby tree. For the first time her shoulders slump and she rubs a hand across her forehead. It might be the only honest emotion I’ve seen from her.
‘Oh.’ I exhale loudly. ‘You didn’t want that.’
‘It’s my fault though,’ she says simply. ‘I dangled the carrot of my father’s money in front of those mercenaries’ eyes and that’s all they saw. I told them he’d hidden away lots of gold and it was theirs if they did what I wanted. And I wanted the trustees scared, I wanted them to be aware that someone knew what they’d done. They’d live out the rest of their lives in terror. Their children could lose an ear for that. I didn’t want those Trustees to know it was coming though. I had special envelopes made up, the kind people leave donations in. Checkers Children’s Charity. Hah!’ she scoffs. ‘I wanted their reaction when they opened the envelope and saw the ear to be one not only of fear but also total shock. So I told the mercenaries that if any of the trustees caught wind of what was going on before it happened, they’d get nothing. It didn’t occur to me that they’d kill the trustees’ children to make doubly certain of secrecy.’
And when O’Shea discovered the first ear in the pocket of a one-night stand and stole it, all hell broke loose. The mercs proved once and for all that they were prepared to do anything to get their hands on Renfrew’s hidden fortune.
‘Money,’ I say disgustedly. ‘That’s what it boils down to. The trustees killed your mother because they wanted your father’s money. The mercs you hired tried to kill everyone because they wanted it too.’ I eye her suspiciously. ‘Why did you hire D’Argneau to get Creed and Wyatt off?’
Arbuckle shrugs. ‘The others were already dead or in Venezuela. I really don’t understand why they came back ‒ after more of my father’s fortune, I suppose.’ I keep quiet. ‘Creed and Wyatt almost managed to stay anonymous. They weren’t going to quit though, not when they thought they could get all the money for themselves. I hired that lawyer because I knew he was good. He’d get them set free and then I could take care of them.’
‘By killing them.’
‘They weren’t going to stop,’ she says, trying to explain, an odd pleading expression crossing her face. ‘Sooner or later they were going to do something that no barrister could free them from then they’d give up my name in exchange for time off their sentence and I’d end up being punished. And I really didn’t want anyone to die. Not when I started this, anyway.’
I think about this. ‘Bullshit,’ I say finally. ‘If you’d said that to the mercs and made it clear there was more money in it for them if they didn’t murder anyone, then they’d have stuck to that. I know you only hired Creed and Wyatt after the others failed so spectacularly. They weren’t part of the original plan and they still committed murder. Even if you can’t admit it to yourself, it’s what you really wanted.’
Arbuckle is silent for a long moment. ‘Maybe all of us are lying to ourselves. We all want the people who hurt us to suffer.’
I grip my pebble. ‘Most people don’t act on those kind of thoughts.’
She regards me steadily. ‘You know, I misjudged you, Ms Blackman. I thought you’d back off when I sent you the gold.’
‘Money doesn’t drive me.’
‘You could have used it to buy your little daemon friend a new car. I saw it, you know, out by the warehouse.’
‘You were there, weren’t you? You met up with Creed and Wyatt before the police arrived and you took McIntosh’s body and his ear. You cleaned up the scene at Renfrew’s mansion too. That’s why it was so perfect. The army is used to having to clean up after itself. ’
For a second, a tiny smile plays around her lips. ‘I didn’t want it to happen but there’s still something satisfying about knowing that as far as Andrew McIntosh is concerned, his son is probably dead. He can’t be sure though. His son will always be missing. Just like my father.’
‘His ear?’
She shrugs. ‘I stuck it in the post. It’s not ideal and someone else might get suspicious and open it before it gets to him. Under the circumstances, though, it’s the best I could manage.’
‘All this for two people who you never really knew, even if they were your parents.’ I shake my head.
Arbuckle looks at me steadily, her eyes clear and guilt-free. ‘And the life I could have had.’
‘Does it make you feel better?’ I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. ‘Hurting the trustees, I mean. Is revenge sweet?’
She smiles. ‘Despite the path those idiot mercenaries took, it is actually. That’s why I’m sorry I have to do this now.’
I raise up an eyebrow. ‘Do what?’
Arbuckle reaches behind her back, calmly produces a gun and points it at me. ‘Kill you. You really shouldn’t have got involved.’
‘I was involved when my friend was almost killed.’
‘But he wasn’t. He survived and he’ll get over it. My mother didn’t. My father didn’t.’
‘Except,’ I say, smiling back at her, ‘your father did survive.’
Her smile falters slightly. Then she sets her jaw. ‘Nice try. He’s dead.’
‘No,’ I tell her. ‘He’s not.’
Confusion clouds her face then she sets her jaw. ‘He loved me. If he were alive, he’d have found me. I know that much.’
‘He thought you were dead, Colonel. Deutscher and the others thought your mother was pregnant. They didn’t realise she’d already given birth. When they killed her, they thought they were killing you too. A tiny foetus, not big enough to be visible. When Renfrew confronted them, they told him they’d killed Hope Havrington and her baby. He believed them because they believed it. The only reason I knew you existed is because I found a time orb. I made a bubble and used it at your father’s mansion and I saw your nursery and your crib. No one buys baby stuff and kits out a room when they’re not even showing signs of pregnancy. It tempts fate.’
Arbuckle blinks rapidly. ‘None of that means he’s alive. He’d have made himself known to someone by now. It’s been over fifty years, for goodness’ sake!’
‘Kill me and you’ll never know.’ I shrug. ‘Your choice.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN: Looking into the Abyss
It’s more than an hour later when Arbuckle and I arrive outside the gates of the Black Market. I’m relieved to see that this time it’s free of dodgy black witches hanging around at the front.
‘If you’re playing me for a fool, Blackman, I’ll shoot you where you stand.’
I laugh. Considering that’s what she was planning to do anyway, I can’t see why I should be scared of her threat now. I reckon I have a fairly good chance of avoiding being shot; I’m stronger and faster than she thinks.
‘I’m telling you the truth. Come on. It’s this way.’
I lead her inside, weaving in and out of the stalls. We pass the creepy woman with her creepy snow globes; we ignore the purred sales pitches about spells and faked goods. I stroll along the narrow aisles as if I don’t have a care in the world. Arbuckle marches like she’s on sodding parade.
I find Merlin’s embroidered tent. Out of politeness, I step aside and gesture to Arbuckle to go ahead of me. She curls her lip, as if to indicate that she’s not that much of a fool. I shrug and go in first. Sitting round a hubble-bubble pipe are O’Shea, Connor and Merlin. I can’t see the painting.
‘Ms Blackman!’ Merlin coos. ‘Good to see you again. And who’s your friend?’
Alarmed when he spots Arbuckle, O’Shea jumps to his feet. ‘What’s she doing here? We’re not doing anything illegal! The army has no jurisdiction here!’
‘Shh,’ I tell him. ‘It’s OK. I’d like you to meet Tobias Renfrew’s daughter.’
Every one of them looks shocked; even Merlin’s mouth drops open. He recovers quickly though, putting on a charming smile and holding out his hand. ‘Ms Renfrew. What a delight!’