The Shifting Price of Prey

Chapter Forty-Six

My heart thudded as I took the tarot card. ‘Thanks. I will. Tell the DI, that is,’ I told Lamber, frantically fishing my small flick-knife from my backpack as he ambled away. I cut my finger and offered it to the card, giving it the usual spiel as its little mouth started sucking up my blood.

The image appeared. A woman. I stared at her, stunned. She was beautiful with huge, thickly lashed dark eyes, pale skin, perfect features and glossy, brunette waves down to her waist. Shpresa, the woman from Malik’s memory, his favourite Ikbal. Her face was so impressed on my mind I’d have recognised her even without the tiny black crescent inked at the corner of her lush mouth.

Shpresa sat on a red velvet throne, wearing a long white gown dotted with spots of crimson, a spiky crown of twelve stars atop her shining hair, and holding a silver dagger in one hand. Her other hand rested on her hugely pregnant belly. At her feet reclined a grey-brown wolf, and around her throne stretched a field of snowdrops, their delicate white flowers nodding as if in a gentle breeze, scattered with the odd crimson rose.

A distant part of me registered this card was the Empress. That she was holding the knife Janan, the Bonder of Souls; that the wolf at her feet was a werewolf, judging by its green human eyes, and the white snowdrops with the crimson roses matched her gown and echoed the ‘blood on snow’ motif the tarot cards had punted before in the Moon tarot card. The blood on snow in Malik’s first two dream/memories. And the rose petals on my bed.

The little mouth stopped sucking. Still I stared, my mind spinning with suspicion.

‘C’mon, luvie. We ain’t got all day, y’know.’

The card’s crotchety voice jerked me into action. ‘Tell me how to find that which is lost, and how to join that which is sundered, to release the fae’s fertility from the pendant and restore it back to them as it was before it was taken.’

The Empress gave me a sad smile. ‘He knows! He will tell you! For a price! The beasts are coming! They come for you! He seeks Janan, Beloved of Malak al-Maut! To use!’

‘I know all that,’ I said, frowning. ‘What else can you tell me?’

‘The Emperor is here.’

Duh. Like that was news. ‘Where is here?’

‘You must save my children.’ A single tear dropped down the Empress’s cheek.

Her children were Bastien and his sister Dilek, a.k.a. Fur Jacket Girl werewolf. And she wanted me to save them. Well, colour me surprised. Though to be fair, the card could be referring to London’s fae as her children. They were, after all, the whole focus of my question. And despite the Empress looking like Malik’s Ikbal, she was the symbol of fertility, sexuality and motherhood, as shown by her obvious pregnancy. Playing it safe, I asked, ‘Who are your children?’

‘You must save them.’ Another tear joined the first as she comforted her beachball-like belly. ‘Even the unworthy.’ The tears became a torrent and the card disintegrated into a soggy mess that vanished into the ether.

Even the unworthy? There were some among the dryads I considered unworthy, but hell, she was laying it on a bit too thick. And the whole ‘save my kids’ was way too coincidental coming right after Bastien. Looked like the psycho vamp did have a direct line to the tarot cards.

I phoned Tavish.

This time he answered.

‘I’ve had another card,’ I said, too aggravated to ask why he’d ignored my other calls, and told him about it, Malik’s dream/memory and Bastien’s ‘visits’, repeated my message that the psycho vamp had said he’d sent some sort of Trojan Horse ‘gift’ and laid out how the tarot cards were basically sending the same message as Bastien: I had to save him. Finally, I finished with, ‘Oh, and guess what? Bastien can astral-project. Does that make him the sort of like-minded spirit that the tarot card can talk to, or not?’

‘Doesnae make much odds if it does, doll,’ Tavish replied, sounding tired. ‘The cards are sidhe made. The card’s spirit has to give a true reading. If she says the vampires are part of it then they are, even if we dinna ken how.’

‘Wanna bet she knows, and is holding out on me?’

‘Och, doll, ’tis possible. But ’twill nae be much. And truthfully, ’tis the Autarch’s gift that’s concerning me now. ’Tis an audio book of Homer’s Odyssey—’

Excitement swirled through me. ‘The Trojan Horse thing. ‘Close enough. What’s it say?’

‘Well, that’s the problem, doll. I’ve tried listening to it, but all it gives me is a log-in page with the username “Genevieve Nataliya Zakharinova” and then asks for a password. I ken that’s your given name, so I tried your date of birth and a few other things, but I havenae managed to find it as yet.’

Fuck. What was the point— Of course, that’s why the psychotic prick was harping on about our wedding date. ‘The password’s my fourteenth birthday.’ I rattled it off, holding my breath until I heard Tavish’s slightly disgusted snort. ‘Is that it?’

‘Aye . . .’ he trailed off and I listened impatiently to the clacking of computer keys. Then they stopped.

C’mon then, tell me. I gritted my teeth to contain my impatience.

A sigh came over the phone, half satisfaction, half irritation. ‘’Tis full access to the Forum Mirabilis’ website.’

‘And?’

Silence. Then, ‘’Tis police business and too much for the phone, doll. Tell Hugh Munro I’ll send what he needs over with Finn.’ He said a quick goodbye and rung off.

Finn was at Tavish’s? I blinked at the phone, stunned. Then my pulse started a nervous tattoo. Finn was coming here! And I wasn’t sure I wanted to see him so soon after our earlier conversation. I grabbed another water, drained it dry in a few anxious gulps. I didn’t want to discuss the ins and outs of our friendship, or answer questions about Malik. Not when I was feeling raw from Bastien’s snide digs. And what the hell was Finn doing at Tavish’s anyway?

I told myself to suck it up; Finn was bringing much needed info about the Emperor. And as Hugh was off the phone, I brought him up to speed.

When I’d finished, Hugh filled me in on his own phone call.

‘That was HOPE. They think we’ve identified the contents of the cambion’s cauldron,’ he said, anxious dust puffing from his headridge. ‘One of the WPCs thought it smelled like it was the herbal mix the witches use at their fertility rites, so the tech-bods at HOPE have done a rush check. It’s similar, though with some unusual additives’ – he flipped his notebook open – ‘ambergris, horny goat weed, cantharides, and powdered garden fairy, to name the easily identifiable ones.’

‘Crap,’ I muttered. ‘That’s some heavy aphrodisiacs there. Not all of them legal.’ I scowled at the water bottle I held. I hadn’t even noticed picking it up, let alone drinking half of it. Was that what the matter was with me? I’d been in the tent inhaling the stuff, getting all hot and bothered same as Mary and Dessa, only if I was suffering aphrodisiac overload, then shouldn’t I be desperate to jump someone’s bones, not drink a swimming pool dry?

‘Yes,’ Hugh agreed with a heavy frown. ‘Once the cambion comes round he’s got some explaining to do.’

‘Talking of powdered garden fairy,’ I said, slipping off my shoes, and giving in to an odd urge to dig my bare toes into the dusty ground. ‘There’s this gnome, Mr Lampy, I’m doing a licensing job for. I’m sure there’s something dodgy about him. And he’s got a stall here at the Carnival.’ I told Hugh where it was, then filled him in on Katie’s treacherous boyfriend, Marc, his lip-lock with the freckled redhead, and his uncle buying spell ingredients from the gnome. ‘Of course, the two nurserymen might be legit,’ I said, ‘but if you’re going to check the gnome out, might be worth looking at too?’

‘Genny’– deep crevices lined Hugh’s forehead – ‘just because the lad has more than one girlfriend, and associates with someone unsavoury, it doesn’t mean he’s a criminal.’

‘I know. It’s just . . . I’m so angry for Katie.’

Hugh shook his head, but said, ‘I suppose it won’t hurt to get them all checked out, along with the gnome.’

I shot him a grateful look. ‘Thanks,’ I said and made a mental note to tell Katie before anyone else did, so I didn’t end up in her bad books again. Hugh made some notes, and I glugged down more water. Gods I was hot, and weirdly the idea of stripping-off clothes and throwing myself on the dusty, sunburned grass and rolling around on it naked was beginning to feel like a great idea. I wriggled, trying to get comfortable as Hugh thumbed on his radio and started issuing orders. Mindful of Hugh’s advice, I picked up my phone and sent another text to Malik:

Sorry about last texts, can explain and won’t give Hugh the letter. Also, have had two visits from Bastien (Dreamscape and astral) saying I had to save him from the Emperor or I’d lose the chance of finding the fae’s fertility. He also said to give you this message verbatim: ‘I have honoured the agreement between us. I will not harm the bean sidhe, but due to your incessant vacillating, I have made the choice for you.’ So V Important we talk. Meet me at midnight, please. And remember, whatever’s going on with the Emperor and Bastien, I can help.

I went to hit send, then stopped and added:

Is Bastien your son?

Before I could change my mind, I sent the text, then shoved the phone back in my pocket and opened another water, thinking astral projection must come in handy for a vamp stuck in his daytime sleep.

Hugh patted my shoulder gently. ‘That’s your sixth, or maybe seventh bottle of water, Genny. You all right?’

I glanced up at his cloud-grey eyes, squinting against the too bright sun, as I dug my toes into the straw-like grass. ‘Not sure. I feel like I haven’t had a drink for weeks. And I don’t mean alcohol . . . ’ Damn. That was it. I pulled a face at Hugh. ‘I took a Hot.D and a Reviver earlier. It’s just the hangover catching up.’ I knocked back the last of the water, waved the empty bottle at him with a rueful smile. ‘Don’t s’pose you’ve got another?’

‘Looks more than that, Genny.’ Worried fissures lined his ruddy face. ‘Hot.Ds usually have a hydrating effect. Look at your hands. They look like an old person’s.’

He was right. The skin was all dry and wrinkled. Like I needed intensive hand cream treatment, or something. ‘Huh. Maybe it’s a weird side-effect of the Reviver.’ I upended the bottle again, the plastic creaking as I sucked all the air out of it.

Hugh stood, his large bulk blocking out the sun.

‘Shade,’ I murmured. ‘Nice.’

He cupped my elbow, carefully helping me up. ‘Come on, Genny. I’ll get Lamber to take you to HOPE. Get the docs there to check you out for any problems from that spell mix the cambion had.’

‘Can’t go.’ I yanked out of his hold as desperation dropped me to my knees and thrust my hands into the dusty grass. My flaking skin shimmered gold as the brittle stalks crackled against my fingers. But it wasn’t enough. I collapsed full-length, rubbing my face into the earth. Still not close enough. My fingers clawed at my shirt, popping the buttons. I needed more skin—

Water poured down on me.

I flopped onto my back like a starfish and opened my mouth wide, letting it rain over me. Gods it felt good, ice cold, wet and salty. Ugh. I jerked up, spluttering as I got a mouthful of saline solution. I swiped my hair and the stinging water from my eyes, and scowled at the person crouching next to me. Finn.

His hair looked as if it had grown since yesterday, his bracken-coloured horns almost hidden in the dark blond waves. He was wearing dark suit trousers and a smart, short-sleeved shirt, cream with a thin ivy-green stripe, the collar open. It was his usual summer business style. And he looked good enough in his handsome human Glamour that I wanted to tear the clothes off him. The thought of the two of us rolling around on the dusty earth, naked, clenched things low inside me. I curled my hands into the grass and stifled that thought. Maybe the cambion’s cauldron mix was affecting me. Though Finn’s salt-drenching seemed to have solved my ‘hot and thirsty’ problem. And seemed to have cleared my head. Not that I was feeling overly appreciative.

‘Thanks,’ I muttered, glaring at the blue fire extinguisher he had his hand on.

He grinned cheerfully. ‘You’re welcome, Gen.’

I sniffed. ‘I wasn’t being grateful.’

‘I didn’t think you were.’ His grin widened. ‘Looks like I’ll have to make do with the view instead.’ Wickedness lit his moss-green eyes as they flicked down then back up to my face.

I looked down. Sighed. If there was a wet T-shirt contest to be found, my boobs would be taking point and leading the way. As there wasn’t, they’d just give anyone too close an embarrassing poke. Great. Still, at least I had boobs, and not the mosquito bites that the Magic Mirror spell kept inflicting on me. I pulled the soaked shirt away from my chilled skin, flapping it gently; in this heat it and my bra should dry in no time. On the plus side, the soaking had almost washed away the bloodstain from Dessa’s bite. Maybe the day was looking up.

‘Gen?’

I looked back at Finn; his grin was gone.

And maybe it wasn’t. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘The Forum Miribilis. It’s not good.’