by Helen Harper
I smirked. ‘Watch.’ I pulled on the Gift I’d stolen and directed it at the mess on the ground. As everyone gaped, the tins, empty crisp packets and various bits of shite began to transform.
‘Is that…?’
I nodded smugly. ‘Gold. That Scrymgeour Sidhe’s Gift was Alchemy.’
Taylor swallowed. ‘No way.’ He knelt down and picked up a twig, holding it up to examine it more closely. Its golden edge gleamed in the sunlight. ‘Do you know what this means?’
‘I do. It means you have no need to gamble ever again because we have all the wealth we could ever need right here.’
His face immediately fell. ‘That’s not what I…’
‘I know.’ I pointed at pile of gold. ‘But there’s enough there to bribe anyone. And enough to at least make a decent effort to sort out this place. The trolls have done well but we’re lacking in raw materials. I’ll take a bit of gold with me for emergencies but you can keep the rest.’ My gaze turned hard. ‘So even if I don’t return, there’s enough to set you and everyone else up for life.’
Lexie tossed her head. ‘You’ll return.’ She jabbed Speck’s ribs.
He coughed. ‘Yeah. You’ll return because no one else can do anything about the Lowlands.’
‘You’re too damned stubborn,’ Brochan agreed.
Taylor scratched his chin. ‘And we’re going to need more gold so you’ll need to come back and make us even richer.’
I laughed. ‘That’s the last of it. I needed to make room for other more useful Gifts.’
He stared at me. ‘More useful Gifts than Alchemy?’
‘Au, is that all you want me for?’
Taylor frowned. ‘Pardon?’
‘Au? A U?’
Lexie shook her head in dismay. ‘Yeah, you’re right. We’ll stay here and Bob can go with you. I’ve heard enough, thank you very much.’
I jabbed a finger at her. ‘If I die, you’ll end up with a gilt complex.’
She put her hands over ears. ‘Just go.’ She paused. ‘No, wait.’ She ran up and gave me a tight hug. ‘Now, go. And if you see Byron Moncrieffe, turn invisible and give him a good kick in the balls for me.’
I ignored the lurch in my stomach. I was going to make sure I kept well away from him. It was doubtful he’d even be at the Cruaich ‒ he had a wedding to prepare for, after all. ‘I have no claim on Byron. I never did.’ I was speaking the truth. I couldn’t help feeling wounded by his sudden desire to marry Tipsania but I couldn’t keep moaning about it.
‘We all know that’s not true,’ Lexie scoffed.
‘I’m also a pacifist,’ I pointed out.
‘There are exceptions to every rule, Tegs. Stay safe. And,’ she added with a wink, ‘guard that heart of gold of yours.’
Speck nodded. ‘He only wants Tipsania because he’s a gold digger.’
‘Rescuing Candy could prove to be incredibly useful,’ Brochan said. ‘He’s probably a gold mine of information about the Moncrieffes.’
Taylor gave me a fatherly grin. ‘We’ll stay here and be as good as gold, Tegs.’
I straightened up. ‘Don’t try to beat me at my own game.’ I waved goodbye to them all. ‘Remember,’ I called out over my shoulder as I got into the car, ‘I’m going to be interrupting Aifric and Byron’s plans so when I get back, be sure to have my gold meddle ready for me.’
Bob just groaned.
***
As it was the seat of power of the Highlands, the Cruaich borders were simple to cross. All Sidhe were granted admittance automatically and there were simply too many people of all backgrounds and ethnicities passing back and forth for strict rules to be maintained. Perhaps it was arrogance, too; except for the Fomori demons’ incursion earlier in the year, no one had attacked the Cruaich for decades. If they had done, they’d have found themselves up against a considerable number of Gifted Sidhe – and no wanted those sorts of hordes after them. The Sidhe Clans were adept at keeping everyone else in their place.
All the same, I wanted to stay hidden. Long before I reached the border, I abandoned the car in favour of walking, skulking around like a shadow, flitting in and out of the trees that led towards the main Cruaich driveway. While I couldn’t expect the Bull to maintain his silence forever, I didn’t think he would have already passed on tales of my ‘ghost’. It would take him a while to realise that what he’d seen was wholly corporeal and alive. At least for now, I could count on being unexpected and I had to make as much use of that as I could.
The first group of people who passed me were humans heading up towards the main castle. They looked nervous and their heads were bowed in conversation as they walked. No doubt they were petitioning the council on some matter. I wished them well but they weren’t the sort of people I needed.
I hung back until they were out of sight then kept on going and eventually crossed the border itself. My skin buzzed faintly with the magic but my Sidhe blood kept it at bay easily. Staying alert, I skirted away from the drive, continuing to use the trees as cover but staying near enough to the road to see who was on it.
I’d barely gone a hundred feet when a lone Sidhe came wandering down, hands in pockets and expression distant. A Labrador trotted by his side, which immediately made me warm to him. Then I reminded myself why I was here and concentrated on stealing whatever Gift he had.
Nothing happened. I kept pace with him and concentrated harder. I could see the magic inside him but, when I called to it, it refused to come. The first vestiges of panic swirled inside me. I’d always been confused by my strange Gift of theft, even if it made sense considering what I used to do for my day job. I’d come to rely on it and to expect it to work at my bidding; the thought that it might have deserted me was worrying. I focused, feeling pressure behind my skull. Still nothing happened. What was going on?
I reached into the sheath which hung at my waist and carefully drew out Bob’s letter opener. He spent more time out of it than inside it these days but he was prepared to hide in there to avoid listening to any more of my quips. I waited until I was completely alone again and then rubbed the blade with my sleeve.
There was a familiar flash of light and Bob blinked into existence. ‘I need your help,’ I hissed.
‘You want your last wish?’ He drew himself up with quivering excitement. ‘Well, that’s worth abandoning Buffy the Vampire Slayer for.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Do you want Byron to suffocate in his sleep? Or something a little more violent? I can arrange for castration…’
I winced. ‘No. Listen, it’s—’
‘Massacre everyone in the Cruaich?’
‘Jeez, Bob. How many times do I have to tell you that I won’t resort to that kind of thing? I’m not psychotic.’
He pursed his lips. ‘It’d be fair retribution for what happened to your Clan. Revenge isn’t psychotic, Uh Integrity, it’s noble. This world has been built on the pillars of revenge.’ He snapped his fingers, creating a miniature floating pulpit that he climbed on to. ‘Think Caesar,’ he intoned with a grandiose flourish. ‘Think Charles IX, the forty-seven Ronin, Operation Wrath of God.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Think Lorena Bobbit.’ He lowered his voice in a knowing aside. ‘Guess which one of those I had a hand in!’
‘Bob!’ I snapped. ‘Pay attention!’
The miniature pulpit vanished. ‘Go on then.’
‘I just tried to steal the Gift from a passing Sidhe. It didn’t work.’ I tried not to sound too anxious. ‘Is something wrong with me?’
Bob regarded me seriously. ‘I wouldn’t even know where to begin, Uh Integrity. We’ve had words already about your dress sense. Then there are those jokes…’
I ground my teeth. ‘Bob.’
He grinned. ‘No, you are the same as always.’
‘Then why couldn’t I steal from him?’
‘As you keep saying, you abhor violence regardless of how sensible and fulfilling it can be. The Sidhe probably had a violent Gift. Thus proving that if you concentrated harder, you could probab
ly tell what each person’s Gift was. Your subconscious knows, so you just need to tap into that.’
Could Bob be right? ‘Okay,’ I said slowly. ‘Let’s try that theory. Point me in the direction of more Sidhe.’
He cocked his head. ‘Is that your wish?’
‘Call it a favour.’
‘In return I would like…’ He fell silent at the expression on my face. ‘Fine,’ he muttered. He jerked his head to the right. ‘There’s a group about two hundred metres away.’
‘That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?’
He stuck out his tongue.
Following Bob’s directions, I carefully wound my way towards the oblivious Sidhe. I doubted whether I could work out what Gifts each one had; it wasn’t something I’d been capable of before now. If I couldn’t achieve that kind of knowledge with Morna’s help, there was little chance I could do it with Bob’s. It would make life considerably easier, though. If I could pick and choose which magic to steal, I could end up with an array of Gifts as part of my arsenal. That thought spurred me on and I moved faster.
‘They’re in a clearing just up ahead,’ Bob whispered in my ear.
I cast around. Just in front of me there was a large oak tree with some low-lying branches and heavy foliage that might do the trick. Grinning, I began to climb. When I thought I was high enough, I shimmied out across one of the far-reaching branches and peered through the leaves. Bob was right: there were more than a dozen male Sidhe milling around for no apparent reason.
I looked from one to another. Their clothing signalled they were from different Clans – Moncrieffe, Kincaid, Darroch, MacGillivray and Riddell. I didn’t recognise any of them. Focusing my attention on the closest one – a youngish guy with red hair – I furrowed my brow. As before, I could see the magic inside him but I had no clue as to what it was. I emptied my mind of all my turbulent thoughts, blocked out the Sidhe’s chatter and my arboreal-induced discomfort, until the two of us might have been the only people in the entire world. His Gift called to me. Desire to take it ran through my veins as if I were being seduced into stealing. I held my breath, only aware of the thrumming of my heartbeat and the twisting magic within the Sidhe.
‘Huh, that’s interesting,’ Bob said.
I just managed to avoid yelping. ‘Goddamnit, Bob!’ I hissed, my fingers gripping the branch harder so I could remain in place. ‘I’m trying to concentrate!’
‘Well,’ he huffed, ‘I’d have thought you of all people would be interested in their conversation. D’you think Byron would invite me?’
‘What?’
He tsked and poked my cheek. ‘He thinks you’re dead. I have no reason not to be here. I could pretend to bump into him and then maybe he’d invite me along. I like parties.’
‘Bob, what on earth are you on about?’
He sighed as if I were incredibly dim-witted. ‘Listen.’
I widened my focus so that instead of being wholly absorbed in one man, I was paying attention to them all.
‘What about strippers?’ asked one swarthy Sidhe, who was Moncrieffe judging by the tartan he was wearing.
‘I know this girl,’ another answered, ‘who is able to shoot ping-pong balls…’
I gagged and made a face. Fortunately, I wasn’t the only one.
‘Mate, this is Byron we’re talking about. He’s classier than that.’
‘But this girl is classy! You need to meet her. She’s got legs that go on for miles.’
‘I’ve got a company lined up. They’re going to give us their most talented girl for the evening.’
‘Which company?’
The speaker consulted his phone. ‘Tartan Exotica. I know Mark, the owner, and he’s giving me a good deal.’
‘Grand.’
There was a rustle of leaves. All the Sidhe turned guiltily, relaxing only when they saw who had joined them. ‘So,’ Jamie Moncrieffe said. ‘How are the preparations going? Have you managed to book the Haven?’
‘Done and dusted, mate.’
He smiled. ‘Good. Byron has no clue about what’s going on. I’ll tell the band to show up around 7pm but it’s up to you guys to make sure everything’s a surprise.’
‘No problem.’
‘And the entertainment is sorted? No strippers, right?’
The others all nodded vigorously. ‘Right.’
‘Damn,’ Bob whispered. ‘If it’s a surprise, I’ll need to talk to Jamie about my invite. He doesn’t really know me, though.’
‘You’re not going to Byron’s bloody stag do, Bob.’
He pouted. ‘I might find out some serious intel. Maybe Aifric will be there.’
‘Yes, because I’m sure that the Steward wants to spend his evening with strippers and young Sidhe blokes getting off their faces.’ I snorted in disgust. ‘This is a waste of time.’ I started slithering back down the branch. I had zero interest in this.
‘Oi! Where are you going? What about their Gifts?’
‘I’ll find some others instead. Anyway, it’ll be safer to nick their magic when they’re alone.’ As to what that magic might be, I’d just have to hope I managed to get some worthwhile Gifts. A lucky dip rather than a selection box. No problem.
***
Obviously, wandering in through the Cruaich’s main doors was a big no-no. I took inspiration from our jaunt to the Bull’s lair and headed round the back of the massive castle. I shoved all my hair inside my trusty baseball cap and kept my head down. It was unlikely that any Sidhe would be hanging around the servants’ quarters so all I had to do was avoid looking anyone in the eye and I could skate by without suspicion. If the worst came to the worst, I had enough of Tipsania’s Gift to vanish.
I smiled humourlessly. If word got round that Integrity Adair’s ghost was haunting the Cruaich, at least I’d have something new to laugh about.
I found a small door leading in to the staff quarters. Having used one of the guest rooms at the Cruaich on a previous occasion, I was shocked at how shabby these rooms were. They were cramped and small, they didn’t look particularly clean and the sheets on the dorm-room beds were threadbare. Another black mark against the Moncrieffes, I thought sourly.
A couple of people wearing the Cruaich livery brushed by me, obviously on their way to work. I angled my face away and murmured greetings. As I’d suspected, everyone was too busy to pay me much attention.
Towards the end of the first corridor, I came to a bank of old-fashioned bells, the sort once used in grand houses to summon servants. The signs beneath these bells were new, however. When the one marked ‘Boss’ began to ring, I almost jumped out of my skin. Aifric really was an old-fashioned kind of guy. I was tempted to remove the ringer so that he would sit for hours waiting for someone to bring him a cup of tea but it would be a petty thing to do – and it would get the servants into trouble. Instead I moved smoothly past, happy in the knowledge that he was tucked out of the way, and set off for the library.
This was going to be the most dangerous part of the expedition. I hissed at Bob to remind him to keep out of sight and debated for a moment whether I could afford to use Tipsania’s Gift. I wanted to be sparing with it; it was a finite resource and, if I took too much from her, she might end up with none. Ripping away someone’s Gift in its entirety seemed to be the only way for me to keep hold of it for good but that was too high a price to pay for more power.
I cast my gaze across the wide space, taking in the different people milling around. I couldn’t see the library from here and all I knew from Fergus was that there was a door nearby leading to the dungeons. I’d have to hope that I found the right one without too much bother. Waiting for an appropriate break in the crowd, I took a deep breath and strode out.
I’d barely gone ten metres when a well-dressed woman who I vaguely recognised from the Sidhe Games strolled in my direction. Attempting to look casual, I stayed on my path for a few steps then moved to my right. I craned my neck up as if examining the large painting hanging on the wall. W
hen the woman stopped at my side and also glanced up at the giant picture, my stomach dropped.
‘It’s not often you see people stopping to take in their surroundings,’ she said approvingly.
‘It’s a beautiful piece,’ I murmured, praying she’d keep her attention on the painting rather than look at me. My tell-tale white hair was hidden and I was wearing contact lenses to mask my violet eyes but my weak disguise wouldn’t stand up to close scrutiny. All she had to do was look me in the face to discover the truth. I might have to use Tipsania’s Gift and make like a ghost again after all.
‘Yes. I’m told it was acquired from the Adair Clan after they— Well, you know.’
I stiffened. Shite. She must have recognised me. I tensed, ready for action. Run or hide?
‘I suppose,’ she continued, ‘they’re going to be consigned to history now.’
I almost snorted, despite my panic. Aifric controlled history like everything else. I’d seen what was missing from the library with my own eyes; he had effectively rubbed out the Adair Clan’s existence. Until I came along.
‘Still,’ she said, as if reading my thoughts, ‘the Steward knows best.’ She paused. ‘And what’s your name? Are you Clan Moncrieffe?’
I licked my dry lips, trying to find my voice. ‘You don’t know?’
‘No,’ she replied pleasantly as my veins buzzed with the truth of her answer. Her comment about the Adairs was nothing more than coincidence. I almost sagged to the floor in a puddle of relief. She glanced at me curiously as I angled my face away. ‘Have we met?’
I opened my mouth to answer but fortunately I was interrupted by someone calling to her from across the room. She turned, her arm brushing against my body and her Gift – whatever it was – immediately spoke to me. Like a pickpocket with invisible hands, I responded.
I gasped faintly while she stalled and pressed her hand to her forehead. ‘Goodness,’ she said, ‘I suddenly feel rather light-headed. Do excuse me. I think I’d better sit down.’ She walked away with small, uncertain steps, leaving me and the painting alone.
Bob whistled in my ear. ‘That was close, Uh Integrity.’
Yeah. It really had been. I reminded myself of everything I’d learnt while growing up with Taylor. People saw what they were expecting to see – and she wasn’t expecting to see Integrity Adair because Integrity was dead. Therefore she saw a stranger rather than me. I’d do well to remember that.
