The Bitter Seed of Magic

Chapter Thirty-Nine

‘Hugh tells me Helen’s note was addressed to you,’ Finn said, his voice holding an edge of brittleness. ‘That you’re going to see that sucker about it.’

‘Yes,’ I said quietly, my heart thudding for a different reason, as disappointment threaded with sadness rocked through me. I’d expected him to be upset that Helen was missing, but … he’d lost his Glamour, too overcome to hold it, and he was standing there with so much pain and grief radiating off him that it was as if someone had ripped his whole world apart.

‘Helen hates the suckers,’ he said.

‘I know.’ Or I thought I had, but obviously we were both wrong. I held my hands out to him, wanting to offer him comfort.

He looked at them, then turned to stare out at the river. I pressed my palms against my thighs, unsure whether to go to him or not. But the tenseness of his shoulders under the drenched suit—which I noted absently still fitted like it was made for him, even without his Glamour—told me to wait.

When he turned back his horns were back to their usual height, his eyes were dry, and the rage in them was gone, replaced by disbelief and something that looked like … betrayal? He climbed into the van and sunk into the seat opposite, rain dripping off him in rivulets.

‘Helen hates the suckers,’ he repeated, as if he was trying to convince himself, ‘so why would she have anything to do with one? Why would she have anything to do with any of this? She’s a police officer; she loves her job—why would she cover up a murder? Why would she—?’ He stopped, a muscle jerking in his jaw, and dropped his face into his hands.

The Helen I knew didn’t have any reservations about using her police powers to suit her own purposes if she thought she could get away with it. Somehow I’d always thought Finn had known that, but maybe he hadn’t, not until now. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to see that part of her. But I didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to hear it.

‘Nicky’s gone, Gen,’ he whispered.

‘What?’ I exclaimed, not sure I’d heard right.

‘Nicky’s gone.’ He almost shouted it at me as he lifted his gaze to mine. His eyes were dark with fear. ‘She’s taken Nicky with her.’

She’s taken Nicky— A sick dread roiled in my gut. Helen had taken his daughter. His faeling daughter. Fuck. No wonder he was devastated. Tears pricked my own eyes. I didn’t care about Helen, but I did care about Finn. I sank to my knees and wrapped my arms round him. ‘We’ll find her, Finn,’ I murmured, feeling the panicked thud of his heart beneath my cheek. ‘We’ll get Nicky back.’

‘A sucker’s got her, Gen,’ he said, in the same low tone, his arms tightening painfully around me. Again I didn’t tell him Mad Max’s son might still be human; it didn’t matter if he was, he was still a killer. ‘He’s had her for four days—’ He stopped, shaking, and I knew he was remembering the time he’d been tortured by an ambitious vamp—and he’d been a captive for less than a day. That vamp was dead; Hugh had crushed her skull like a sledgehammer crushing an egg. My heart broke for Finn, and for Nicky, and I resolved to do whatever it took to save her and the other faelings.

‘Four days! Gods, I should’ve made her stay with the herd, I should’ve—’ He stopped, terror, and guilt, that he hadn’t protected his child thickening his voice.

I hugged him harder. ‘It’s not your fault, Finn,’ I murmured.

‘I’m sorry, Gen.’ He moved to meet my gaze, his face drawn and desolate. ‘I should tell you not to have anything to do with the suckers. Instead I’m going to ask you … no, beg you, please: do whatever it takes to find Nicky.’

My throat constricted. ‘I will, I promise.’

‘Whatever it takes, whatever they want, Gen,’ he whispered fiercely. ‘I’ll do it. Just save Nicky.’

I headed home. Hugh gave me an escort of two uniformed police trolls: Constable Taegrin, his polished black face glinting cheerfully with specs of gold, and Constable Lamber, whose mottled beige headridge was rough and cracked with age. Trolls, like goblins, are impervious to vamp mind-tricks, although unlike goblins they can’t sense any magic. But I didn’t need them to. Magic wasn’t going to be the problem.

In a way, I didn’t think Malik was going to be either, or at least not how Hugh envisaged he might be.

‘You’ll be careful, won’t you, Genny?’ Hugh had said, doing his father-figure bit. ‘A bit of advice: I know you’re upset about Finn and his daughter, but put all that out of your mind.’

I told him I would.

‘It’s going to be sunset before everything else is ready, so don’t rush, and remember to keep your wits about you. Don’t let Malik al-Khan make you do anything you don’t want.’

I knew what he meant. He thought Malik would want blood and sex, because that was what vamps did. Me, I wasn’t so sure, Malik hadn’t exactly taken me up on any offers in the past, in fact he’d been at pains not to. Now I thought that might have something to do with his deal with Tavish, whatever it was. But unlike Hugh, I wasn’t worried if it came down to blood or sex, or both. After all when I’d accepted his protection, I’d sort of expected they’d probably be part of the deal at some point, and it wasn’t like I was totally averse—in fact, part of me, the non-thinking part, would be … enthusiastically ecstatic about it all. Not to mention I was going to do whatever it took to make the plans happen. Which started with climbing up five flights of stairs.

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ I gasped in answer to Constable Taegrin’s solicitous question as I doubled over and leaned against my front door, trying to catch my breath.

Taegrin gave me a look that said he didn’t think I was (both trolls had taken the stairs like pros, but then, they hadn’t been half-killed by a rabid vamp last night). But once I was breathing easy again, Taegrin nodded, and he and Lamber followed me into my living-room-cum-kitchen.

A stiff breeze barrelled through the bedroom door, telling me the window in the room was wide open. I’d left it closed, with the heavy oak wardrobe in front of it. Malik was obviously awake, despite sunset being four hours away. Tension knotted my stomach, and I stopped a good couple of feet away from the bedroom door, with the two constables hovering attentively at my back.

The rug I’d left Malik wrapped in, Cleopatra-style, was now rolled up tight and sitting neatly on the floor at the end of the bed. Beneath the bed my shoes and boots were (creepily) lined up in what looked like style, heel height and colour, and the heavy wardrobe was back in its original position.

I looked. The blood-Ward still drifted above the threshold. When I’d drawn the Ward, it had sprung up like a golden fog; now it was as thin and insubstantial as a summer’s mist. But it was still working. Relief slipped through me; with the Ward trapping Malik as well as the daylight, I had a better chance of pulling this off. I stepped further to my left to get a better view of the room.

Malik was on the bed, propped up against the headboard, looking relaxed and unconcerned, with his leather-clad legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. His chest was still bare, and his pale skin gleamed almost unnaturally in the dim room. His pale, perfect face was set in his usual enigmatic expression, and his part-Asian eyes were black and unreadable as they met mine. Damn, but he was pretty—maybe even more so with his shorn hair.

‘Genevieve, I am delighted to see you.’ His not-quite-English accent was mocking. His gaze raked over the two trolls. ‘And to make the acquaintance of your … friends.’

Showtime.