I landed, not in the torchlit stone corridor as I’d expected but in a large open area of sun-browned grass, floodlit by halogen lights on metal pylons. Inside a glyph-etched silver and copper chain circle, which rose over me in a shimmer of red in my sight. The Portal spell was a trap. But then I’d always known that.
I tightened my hold on my ring. I had a weapon. I had a See-Me-Not, along with Locators – magical and more mundane albeit high-tech electronic ones – and Transportation beacons woven into the long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans Mary had given me to wear. And the plan was for me to sit tight, find out everything I could and, if necessary, stall until the cavalry followed me through the portal. The now non-existent portal. Still Hugh and the witches had monitored the spell, and they had Mad Max and another pint of my blood. With luck they’d be along soon.
I scanned my surroundings. Nearby, the tall minaret of London’s Central Mosque cut into the twilit sky. It told me I was in the middle of Regent’s Park, at the Carnival Fantastique, in the large area left empty for the shows and formal ceremonies. It was the Summer Solstice, the closing night of the Carnival, and a Party in the Park was scheduled with a concert that was a who’s who of British pop, with the ubiquitous celebratory fireworks to end the night. I was about five feet away from the covered stage rising in front of me, prime position if this had been the pop concert. Only, either the party had finished or a lot of folk nearby were unknowingly experiencing an expertly crafted illusion, since no music show bore any resemblance to the stage’s occupants.
Well, not unless the show’s set featured a backdrop of scaffold and plank bleachers, crammed with a crowd of shadowy indistinct figures.
‘Quiet lot? aren’t they,’ I muttered, scowling at the eerie crowd.
Modified Privacy spells, Viviane helpfully informed me from her sunny canalbank inside me. They are here to bid in the auction.
‘Thanks,’ I said drily. ‘I’d never’ve guessed.’
Front and centre stage were two ornate golden thrones, one larger than the other, pinned in place by overlapping spotlights. Both were empty. The stars of the show had yet to turn up.
Spread out behind me were more chain circles, their silver and copper glinting in the bright halogens. Nearly all of the circles held shadowy figures.
They are those who have accepted the invitation to barter their gold coin, Viviane said, twirling her parasol.
‘Nice that the anonymity extends to the innocent too,’ I said sarcastically. Still, at least it meant that no one could see me in my own circle.
Around the outer edge of the open space and behind the stage, a twenty-foot wall of pale green magic shimmered with multi-coloured bubbles that drifted slowly upwards, only to sink back again as if the space were enclosed by a huge lava lamp; the magic was obviously keeping folk away, and possibly fuelling any illusions. Standing to attention at intervals around the green wall were vamps, all dressed up as Roman centurions. A lot of vamps. Crap. Were they going to be a problem for Hugh and his witches and trolls in blue? I shook the worry away for later.
Following the curve of the green wall was a semi-circle of exhibition tents facing the stage. They weren’t the standard Carnival ones (which were square or oblong to make the most of the space) but were round, suggesting they covered more magic circles. That didn’t bode well for whatever, or whoever, was probably trapped inside the tents.
The tents contain the speciality lots.
‘Can you ID anyone who’s in the circles or the tents?’ I murmured.
No. But now you have ownership of my tarot cards, bean sidhe. Viviane smiled, showing her dainty little fangs. I should be able to give you some information that will help you.
‘Fine. But remember our agreement; no cryptic stuff.’
Of course. If you would remove two cards, please, the foretelling will be easier.
As I dug the tarot cards out, Gold Cat padded from behind the willow curtain and flopped down on the grass next to Viviane.
Oh, and once the foretelling is finished, Viviane warned. I’ll be trapped in the cards until I’m called again.
‘Fine, just remember; no harm to me or mine.’
None from me, Viviane agreed.
I picked two cards out and she vanished from the canalbank inside me. The cards flew from my fingers to hover before me. Viviane reappeared on the left card, while the right showed an image of the Emperor lounging on the larger of the two thrones on the stage. He held up one of his gold coins.
‘The Forum Miribilis has its own magic,’ Viviane said in a brisk tone. ‘As such, the Emperor has to give you a coin so that you may barter. But as you are already here, the coin is not tied to any specific lot, though the Emperor will not tell you that. You will be able to choose which lot to barter for, and you must barter his coin. If you do not then you will not have the opportunity to speak to him until the auction is over. That will be too late.’
‘Too late for what?’
‘To save those you wish to save, of course.’
‘Right. So I choose a lot, hand over my coin, then I get to ask the Emperor how to release the fae’s trapped fertility and he tells me what price he wants me to pay.’
‘Not quite, bean sidhe.’
I eyed her suspiciously. ‘Your cards said: he knows. He will tell you. For a price.’
She twirled her parasol, eyeing me steadily from under her lashes. ‘That is correct. But first the Forum’s magic must be adhered to or else, like all magical bargains thwarted, it will rebound negatively.’
Crap. ‘So what does that involve?’
‘You must agree the payment in addition to bartering the coin for the lot you choose. Then you can ask your question about the fae’s fertility.’
‘Perfect. So I’ve got to pay something for whatever lot I choose, then I have to pay again to get the info I need. Talk about having your ransom cake and eating it.’
‘Ahh,’ Viviane said, a ‘you’re so not going to like this’ expression on her face.
I sighed. ‘What?’
‘Well, there is also the Forum’s public deterrent that each coinholder has to pay.’
Unease pricked my gut. ‘Explain.’
The picture of the Emperor changed to show an unhappy-looking brown-haired man dressed in the green T-shirt and trousers that was the zoo’s uniform. ‘This is David O’Reilly, the partner of Jonathan Weir. David is a performer on the cusp of fame and fortune. When he barters his coin for Jonathan’s return, the extra payment demanded by the Forum will be David’s singing voice. Giving up his voice will change his current destiny, but his partner Jonathan will be free and he will survive the bite to become a weretiger.’
David on the card looked even more miserable. ‘Okay,’ I said, ‘so he loses out on future fame and fortune but it’s not like he’s going to know for sure, or that it’s going to be public knowledge, so I take it there’s a nasty punchline to the story.’
Viviane nodded. ‘Losing his hope in a bright future, David becomes depressed and forgets to pay attention in his job at the zoo. As he deals with dangerous animals this will result in a fatal accident. His partner Jonathan will be distraught.’
Mist swirled on the card and David vanished.
‘Ouch, that’s definitely not a happy outcome,’ I said, feeling bad for David and Jonathan. ‘So what? You think I should choose Jonathan as my lot?’
Viviane shook her head. ‘It is not for me to tell you which lot to choose, bean sidhe. Any coinholder presenting their coin will trigger a public deterrent. I only described David’s future as it was the clearest one I could see.’
Crap. If I didn’t choose Jonathan to barter for then, sooner or later, his partner, David, would end up dead. But David wasn’t the only one here with a coin, nearly all the circles behind me held a shadowy figure— they were all going to end up paying something. As I would. ‘So any idea what my deterrent will be?’
‘Your future has many threads, bean sidhe. It is impossible to pick out any one. But I will warn you that there is more at stake here than the answer you seek, or even the kidnap victims that you are determined to rescue. For you and your feline friend.’
Gold Cat pricked her ears inside me as I said, ‘What the fuck does that mean?’
Viviane brushed a few coppery cat hairs off her dress. ‘You care for many people, bean sidhe. It makes you vulnerable.’
Chill fingers scraped down my spine. She was sworn to bring no harm to me. Or mine. ‘Who?’
‘I’m sorry, I cannot say, bean sidhe.’ She snapped her parasol closed and her cards vanished.
Fuckfuckfuck. She was right. I did care about a lot of people. I didn’t even want to guess who it might be. I dug my fingers into the scorched summer grass, needing something to hold on to. Whoever it was I had to save them. But hell, if I was going to save them, rescue the rest of the Emperor’s victims, save their coinholders from triggering the Forum’s deterrent magic, and get the answer to my question about the fae’s fertility, I needed a plan.
Ten minutes later, as I was still frantically trying to come up with one, the sound of drums thundered through the open space and a burst of magic pricked goosebumps over my flesh.
Lightning flashed, its aftermath plunging the place into darkness.
The lights gradually came back, focusing on the stage.
Five huge werewolves, in their wolf forms, sat on their haunches like guard dogs by the two thrones.
And the thrones themselves were no longer empty.