by Liz de Jager
‘Does he live in the Frontier or the Otherwhere? And do you know how to get hold of him?’
Before Mar can answer, Laurent comes in carrying a tray of small cakes and tea. I wait patiently for him to set things out and notice how gracefully he moves. Mar notices me noticing and I smile at her.
‘Laurent has been in training to become a page in the High Queen’s household,’ she comments.
At her words the tips of his ears go bright red. ‘Maimeo, she doesn’t care. Stop.’
‘She cares. And I care. Let your grandmother show some pride in her grandson, Laurent.’
‘Your grandmother’s right,’ I tell him. ‘Being chosen to be part of Dina’s Court is a big compliment. She’s very fastidious.’ I make a show of sipping my tea. It’s disgusting.
‘Come now, we have business to discuss,’ Mar addresses her grandson. ‘Go and make sure Clotho’s comfortable. This odd weather’s really bad for her.’
Chapter Sixteen
Once Laurent’s left the room, I turn back to Mar. ‘If Antone’s running businesses in the Frontier, do you have his address?’
‘Of course. I’ll get it when you’re ready to leave.’
I smile my thanks at her. ‘And have you heard any rumours about Glow?’
Her expression is one of distaste. ‘It’s a vile concoction,’ she says. ‘I’ve been following the reports in the news. Know that no one in my Hold has sold Glow, or had it in their possession, to my knowledge. The fact that Antone approached a visiting Fae to help spread it angers me greatly. I will ensure that he is not welcome in this or any of the other Holds. We do not want to be associated with drugs that harm humans in any shape or form. A stigma like that attached to a Hold … it doesn’t bear thinking about. And if Fae feel endangered and stop visiting a Hold, we have to shut our doors. And that would be a great loss to our community as a whole. It’s understood that the Holds are a place for safety for any of us who come here.’
‘Do you have visitors at the moment?’ I ask, because the place seems quiet.
‘Oh yes, the Hold is full to capacity. We have our regulars. We also have a pooka, whom I think you may have met recently. He mentioned something about an altercation near a canal?’
My eyebrows jump in surprise because yes, I do remember. I was ambushed by two guys whilst out on a jog early one morning. One of my attackers was dragged beneath the water by a monstrous faerie horse and never came up for air again.
‘Well, if you could say thanks to him for saving my butt, that would be great.’
‘The others are a mixture of businessmen and nobles. Aelfric hosts an annual Midwinter Ball, which is coming up soon. Many Fae have been securing passes to the Frontier, to shop for garments for the occasion. Human fashion is in great demand.’
I smile stiffly and am relieved she doesn’t embroider on the Midwinter Ball and those attending. ‘Mar, do you know anything about a company called Mosby and Clarke? They specialize in air conditioning?’
‘No, I don’t, I’m afraid. I could ask around perhaps? Are they involved in the Glow case?’
I hesitate for a moment and wonder if I should trust Mar. So far everything about her seems trustworthy and I like her. She reads true.
‘We don’t know. Last night a club was flooded with Glow. We think the stuff’s been spiked with something new because this time it affected humans, Fae, the Infernal and an angel – and we think that the guys from the air conditioning company had something to do with it.’
Mar pales visibly.
‘It affected non-humans? Please, tell me what you know.’
I give her a brief breakdown of what we witnessed at Milton’s. And I reveal that the only odd activity before the attack was the work done on the air-con vents – by a group of goblins from Mosby and Clarke.
‘Like you, I am shocked by the implication that it’s affected others at the same time as humans. I need to put the word out and warn the other keepers to be aware of its spread.’
I shrug. ‘This is the first time we’ve heard of it affecting non-humans. Perhaps it’s a stronger formulation. Or maybe it’s because it’s been changed to make it airborne?’ I stare into space for a few seconds, my mind whirring. ‘We just don’t have the answers right now – which is one of the reasons I’m visiting you.’
Mar is silent for a few moments. ‘It could be that whatever they were trying to accomplish with Glow wasn’t happening fast enough. So they changed it.’
I suddenly feel like the dumbest person in the room. ‘Trying to accomplish with Glow?’ I echo.
‘You’ve not thought about this before? That whoever’s sending Glow into the Frontier has an ultimate goal?’
‘Apart from getting people addicted to the stuff and making money?’
‘Addicted, yes, but for what reason?’ Mar toys with her cup, thinking, before speaking again. ‘This doesn’t feel like money’s the motivation, because it’s a Fae drug. We don’t need human money. We can make our own.’ Here she leans over and picks up a leaf that’s dropped from the plant in the window. She passes her hand over it and hands it to me and I take it without even thinking about it. In my hand lies a fresh crisp £50 note. I turn it over and, even though I’m using my sight to determine the glamour, it looks and feels very real. I hand it back and when she takes it, it changes back.
‘So, if it’s not money, what are we looking at?’ I ask. ‘Just getting people to try it until people either die or become addicted?’
‘What are the effects of Glow? What happens when a human ingests it?’
‘They see faeries, stripped of their glamour. They experience hallucinations. And now, some humans have been levitating and also seem super-strong.’
‘So, the drug changes some humans, warps them. But it also allows them to see supernatural creatures.’
‘Yes. And it’s not just working on humans any more either.’
‘We can’t assume that it’s not worked on angels or the Infernal before now, just because we’ve not seen proof.’
‘The absence of evidence doesn’t mean the evidence of absence,’ I quote from one of the books on logic Jamie made me read and smile at Mar when she gives me a thoughtful look. We sit in silence for a few seconds and I drink more of my tea, desperately wishing it was coffee instead, before Mar speaks again.
‘It feels like the opening moves in a game of strategy to me. The ultimate aim of the strategy being war.’
Before I can begin to ask her, politely, how she came up with that thought, she leans towards me. ‘Think about it,’ she says. ‘What better way to gain both strategic and tactical advantage over an enemy without sending in an army? You do it by weakening them first, by exposing them to an illness that has no cure, an illness that can be spread easily amongst the populace.’
‘Glow is an illness?’ I ask, trying to follow her thought processes, but she’s like mercury and I feel even more out of my league.
‘It maybe didn’t start out like that … But what if it can be used in that way – perhaps as a weapon? It makes sense.’ Mar stands up and starts pacing, thinking aloud. ‘But why? Why risk the Fae getting sick too, by meddling with a compound that has obviously worked well in the past and we assume only affected humans? If Fae become ill and start dying, it could mean huge losses. It could mean a decimation of the population if Fae addiction becomes widespread too. But to what end? What is the ultimate goal?’ She moves to stand beside a beautiful tropical potted plant. ‘Come on, Mar. If it were you, why would you introduce something like this into the population? What would you want it to achieve?’
I watch her and consider how Jamie would analyse this if he were here. I think about the books he’s made me read, the tactical volumes, but also the more esoteric stuff that I had difficulty applying to the everyday.
‘The best thing of all is to take the enemy’s country whole and intact; to shatter and destroy it is not ideal. So too, it’s better to recapture an army entire than to destroy it …’ I look at
Mar’s face and notice her pallor at my hesitant words. ‘That’s paraphrased from Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. My uncle made me read it.’
‘I know of the sage. What else do you remember reading?’
I frown in concentration, remembering the battered old paperback Jamie had me carry around for months when I first started my training. ‘Something about supreme excellence … it means breaking the enemy’s resistance without actually getting into a fight.’
She nods, satisfied. ‘Whoever is behind this just wants to ride in with all the hard work done already and not be challenged. Perhaps they would make a gesture of goodwill and cure those afflicted by Glow, or perhaps they would sell the cure to whoever is prepared to give the aggressor or aggressors what they want.’ She clasps her hands in front of her and it looks like she’s steadying herself. ‘This is how I would do it if it were up to me.’
Mar sits down at last, having given me a lot to consider.
‘This is not the kind of conversation I ever thought I’d have with a Hold keeper. You remind me of Jamie.’ At her raised eyebrows I explain, ‘You sound like a soldier.’
I hold my breath, wondering how badly I’ve insulted her, but she smiles at me.
‘How old do you think I am?’
Oh God. This is the worst question imaginable because what do I say? I know how I hate being judged for how young I am – but trying to guess the age of a faerie could be dangerous.
‘I think in human years you look, maybe, in your forties. In faerie years? I have no idea.’
Mar looks pleased. ‘I fought my first battle in October 1066. I was made lady because of my deeds. I received lands and titles and returned to the Otherwhere as victorious as any of the princes I rode with. I was ninety-seven.’
‘You definitely do not look a day over …’ I wave my hand helplessly. ‘What does this have to do with me asking you about—? Oh! I see. You speak like a soldier because you were one!’
‘Yes.’ Her expression is reflective. ‘I tired of it. For years I rode under Aelfric’s banner, fighting his battles, keeping his peace. I asked to be retired.’
‘And this is how you were made keeper?’
‘Eventually, yes.’
I consider what we’ve talked about before speaking again. ‘So somewhere in the Otherwhere, someone is launching an attack on the Frontier using Glow?’
‘That’s what I think. And from the sound of things, it seems as if they’re escalating the spread of the drug. And if that’s the case, maybe the endgame is in sight. You therefore must put a stop to this – now.’
Chapter Seventeen
I drive from the Hold after texting the boys the address Mar gave me for Antone. It’s a small workshop in Hatton Garden. The area has been London’s jewellery district since medieval times, so it makes sense that his office would be there. Now, in addition to rows of jewellery shops, it is home to various media companies and publishers. It is a bustling area of London and it would be the perfect place for someone with Antone’s jewellery know-how to disappear.
I’m patient with the daytime London traffic, pondering Mar’s theory about Glow being a means to an end – not the end. I’ve not really considered this before, naively assuming I’d find a way to stop the supply and that would be the end of it. But, like most well brought-up people who carry knives and swords on a daily basis, my knowledge of drug cartels is minimal. I need to rectify that.
I park the Audi as close as I can get to the coffee shop near Antone’s workshop. The boys are seated near the window and it looks as if they’ve been up to research because there’s a laptop open and papers everywhere. I bring over a hot chocolate and two croissants for myself, rubbing my hands to get them warm. It is so cold out there that the air itself feels like it has teeth. Of course Aiden is dressed in his usual hoodie and a T-shirt – his only concession to the cold is the ridiculous beanie hanging artfully from the back of his head. Dante is more appropriately clothed, but only slightly, and I feel very much the puny human.
‘Are we communicating telepathically or are you going to tell us what you found out?’ Aiden asks me after a few minutes of me trying to get my shivering under control.
I kick him underneath the table as I draw out my own notebook. Keeping my voice low, I give them an update on the little Mar had to say about Antone – and also her worrying theory on Glow. Then I examine the papers they have spread out in front of them.
‘What am I looking at?’
‘The paperwork on Mosby and Cole, the air-con fitters. We took the liberty of doing a little digging and it looks like they’re actually part of Antone’s businesses.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yep. The paper trail, if you dig hard enough, leads straight to Mr Antone Pensa himself.’
‘Well, that’s really very interesting indeed.’ I riffle the pages and skim-read addresses, bank account details, names, incorporation certificates. ‘Good job, you guys.’
‘I did most of the work,’ Aiden offers, licking his fingertip so he can collect the pastry crumbs from my plate. ‘Dante just sat around and looked pretty.’
I share a look with Dante at Aiden’s words and that look can only be described as fond and a little frustrated.
‘Right, let’s go and talk to Mr Pensa about his little operation – and get his thoughts on threatening faeries into providing unsuspecting humans with Glow.’
We leave the warmth of the coffee shop behind. In the forty minutes I’ve been in there I’ve managed to warm up. But that first step outside, with the cold biting at my exposed face and hands, takes my breath away. I shudder, hunch my shoulders and tilt my chin at Aiden to lead the way to Antone Pensa’s nondescript front door. There is a bronze plaque above the buzzer with the name PENSA in an understated copperplate font. I run my thumb over the plaque and, using my sight, I strip the glamour away and frown at the spell layered over it. The thing writhes with energy and it’s anchored in the font itself and the name. I can’t even begin to tell what the spell entails, but it makes my skin crawl and I take an involuntary step backwards. I’m not keen to figure it out in the least.
Aiden takes the direct approach and beats his fist against the door, hard enough to make it shake. It’s anything but subtle and I roll my eyes, knowing that things are about to get out of hand.
Pressing a finger against his lips for quiet, Aiden bends his head a little. From the way he’s closed his eyes and angled his head, I know he’s listening to the noises inside.
Further down the building, a fire escape door opens and stocky man in a suit exits. He throws a casual look over his shoulder at us but there’s something off about his tense demeanour.
Aiden’s still focused on the sounds behind the door, so I push my bag at Dante without further thought and start moving towards the man. He gives me an alarmed look and then, because he’s definitely guilty of something, he starts running.
I really hate it when they run. It’s just so tiring and there’s sweating and invariably crying and blood afterwards. I’m taller than the runner and I’m also faster. He sprints down a side road, and as he turns a corner on to the main road, I trip him from behind. He goes down in a flurry of limbs before I can grab him, and I can’t help wincing in sympathy at the crunch of his face-plant on the ground.
I lean down and ‘help’ him up, the small iron blade that I press against his shirt covered by my thumb. I know he can feel the sharp tip resting just beneath his armpit. He has both hands in front of his injured face and mutters something that sounds pretty rude and gross to me, but I just sigh dramatically.
‘Uncle Antone,’ I say loudly, all big eyes and concern, ‘I told you not to run to your meeting. You’re not as young as you once were.’
A woman tuts at us but her expression is sympathetic as she steps past, barely breaking her stride. The few onlookers move away too and I have to thank London’s population for taking things at face value. I turn Antone back down the side road just as Dante reaches us. He lo
oks pissed off and I beam at him, proud of my catch.
‘Look who I caught,’ I say, not bothering to hide my glee.
‘You ran,’ he grinds out and takes position on Antone’s other side. At least I assume it’s Antone, as he’s not said anything much apart from snivelling into his hands and swearing at me. The tang of blood is heavy in the cold air and I try to breathe through my mouth.
‘Kit, dammit. You’re not listening. You should have left this to me.’
‘I caught him, it’s okay. Where’s Aiden?’
‘He went in through the side door that this guy left unlocked.’
Just then the main door swings open and Aiden leans out to stare at us. He looks flushed and pleased with his own bit of breaking and entering.
‘Interesting place Pensa’s got here. Come check this out.’
He leads the way up a set of stairs to a heavy metal door. The door is about seven inches thick and propped open by what looks like gold bars. As I walk past I nudge one with the toe of my boot and it doesn’t budge. Real gold, not a glamour, then. I push Antone into the workshop ahead of me and stare around the place as he stumbles towards a high stool by the workbench.
Wordlessly, Dante finds a cloth from somewhere and passes it to the faerie, so he can take care of his bleeding face. The place looks like a workshop, unsurprisingly. It’s lined with shelves holding tools of all shapes and sizes, also mysterious little boxes and things. I assume it’s all part of his jewellery-making equipment.
I step towards Antone Pensa – as he hasn’t denied it – and stare at him. ‘I hope you’re not too badly hurt,’ I say, gesturing to his face. ‘Sorry, about the … blood and stuff. But you shouldn’t have run.’
‘Mpfine,’ he mutters around the cloth in front of his face. When he pulls his hands away, I grimace at the sight of his nose.
‘Aide, can you?’ I incline my head, feeling ridiculously woozy and lightheaded. What is wrong with me? I’ve seen blood before. I’ve bled before. It’s never bothered me before, not like this. ‘It looks broken.’
