by Helen Harper
Brochan was more sensitive than he let on. He tapped my arm, his fingers brushing my skin so lightly that I almost thought I’d imagined his touch. ‘It’s not your fault, Tegs.’
‘I know,’ I said with a slight lift of my shoulders. ‘But it doesn’t make me feel any better.’
Speck, fiddling with a circuit board at the back of the room, looked up. ‘Did the spider have an aura?’ he asked curiously.
Taylor frowned at me. ‘You’ve not told them?’
Lexie tilted her head, her blue hair falling to one side across her shoulder. ‘Told us what?’
I held up my fingers. ‘It’s been four months since I learnt how to read auras.’
She nodded. ‘Since you made the Bull your bitch because he told you his true name.’ She was referring to my erstwhile guardian, the Chieftain of Clan Scrymgeour.
I smiled at her. ‘His Gift is aura reading,’ I agreed. ‘He got it along with his true name when he was thirteen years old. I didn’t manage to see auras until I’d … dealt with him.’
‘Shoulda killed him when you had the chance,’ Brochan rumbled.
‘Oh, he’s a prick,’ I agreed, ‘but you know I don’t like violence.’ Taylor beamed at me with the benevolent smile of a father. ‘Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, it just kind of stopped. The aura reading, I mean.’
‘You can’t read auras any more?’
‘Technically, I never could. I could see them but I had no idea what they meant. The ability to see them just faded away.’
Speck pursed his lips. ‘Well, it would make sense. We’re away from the power source of the Clan Lands. If you returned, it’d probably come back.’
I grimaced. ‘I don’t think it works like that. No, it feels like it’s gone for good.’
‘Just like the teleportation?’
I nodded. After Bob, the most annoying genie in the world, had teleported me to the Bull’s after I made a wish, I was able to teleport as well. As handy a Gift as it was, it hadn’t lasted. I used it all of five times before I simply ran out of magic juice. It was a bugger; mountain rescue would be a piece of piss if I could teleport up and down the Cairngorms. So would casual thievery. Nope, I really wasn’t very special at all.
I’d never heard of any other Sidhe losing their Gifts. Whatever you received when you were thirteen years old was supposed to stay with you for life. I told myself it was because I was an adult when I finally got my true name and that it wasn’t because I was merely defective. Most of the time I believed it.
Lexie’s jaw jutted out. ‘Shitty Sidhe shite.’ Then she threw me a guilty look. ‘Sorry.’
‘Hey,’ I said lightly, ‘I’m with you.’
‘You don’t need magic anyway,’ Speck said loyally. I pretended I couldn’t see the disappointment in his face.
‘Well, magic presents aside, what are you going to do about the spider?’ Taylor asked. ‘If we can’t kidnap it and the Carnegies are going to use it against the other Clans, are you going to leave them to it or warn them in advance?’
I smiled. ‘I’m looking for a way to twist the Moncrieffes round my little finger. Not only did I just save two of their Clan but I have knowledge which might help them avert a bloodbath.’ I winked. ‘You know what they say about friends and enemies.’
Brochan nodded wisely. ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’
My smile broadened. ‘Nah. I’m talking about what you call a fake friend.’ I received four identical eye rolls. I made an imaginary drum roll. ‘A faux, of course.’
*
Bob lay belly down on my dresser, his tiny chin in his even tinier hands. ‘You can’t polish a turd, Uh Integrity,’ he told me solemnly.
I put down the mascara wand and glared at him. ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’
‘The truth hurts.’ He tapped his cheek thoughtfully. ‘There is a way you could look more desirable, you know.’
I kept my mouth firmly shut. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
Bob pouted. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me about it?’
‘Nope.’ I turned back to the mirror, checking my hair. It was a pain in the arse to leave it down because it was so fine. One gust of wind and it ended up plastered across my face. It would suit my purposes for now though. I’d do whatever was necessary to keep Byron Moncrieffe onside.
‘Uh Integrity,’ Bob whined. ‘I used to belong to Marilyn Monroe. How else do you think she was discovered so suddenly? She was nothing more than the pretty girl next door before I got involved.’
I snorted. ‘Yeah, and look how she ended up.’
‘That wasn’t my fault.’
‘It never is.’
He got to his feet. ‘Just make a wish and I’ll turn you into the most beautiful woman in the world. Men will fall at your feet. Women too. Forget Helen of Troy. You’ll be Integrity of Oban.’
I arched an eyebrow. ‘It doesn’t have quite the same ring, does it?’
Bob shrugged. ‘It’s not my fault you live here. The town with more seagulls than culture.’
‘I like them,’ I lied. I hated those buggers. They were the size of cats and they’d rip the food right out of your hands if you gave them half a chance.
‘Come on,’ he pleaded. ‘One teeny, tiny wish…’
‘No.’
‘But…’
I pinched the tips of my thumb and index finger together, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and held him up to my face. ‘Enough of the wishes,’ I growled. ‘I’m not making any more.’ I had two wishes left at my disposal and, frankly, would have preferred it if there were none. Capricious magical wishes were almost never a good thing.
Bob stopped wriggling and sighed. ‘Fine. But there’s just one thing...’
‘What?’
He smiled innocently. ‘Now that I’m this close to your pores, I’m shocked. I could drive a four-by-four through those babies.’
I dropped him. He howled before vanishing in mid-air. Good riddance.
Speck popped his head round the door. ‘You ready?’
‘Yup.’ I gestured at myself. ‘How do I look?’
‘Um…’ Speck seemed baffled. ‘Like you?’
I sighed; that was probably the best I was going to get. ‘Let’s go.’
The plan was fairly straightforward. With Speck in tow as back up, I was going to ‘escort’ Maggie and her thankfully still-breathing husband back to the Clan Lands, making sure I bumped into either Byron or Aifric along the way.
When we reached the hospital, however, it was obvious that wasn’t going to be the case. Standing in front of the main doors was a very familiar face.
‘Jamie!’ I called out, delighted to see Byron’s dimple-cheeked Sidhe friend.
His cheeks went a vivid shade of red as soon as he realised who was calling his name. ‘Hi,’ he mumbled.
I punched him lightly on the arm. ‘There’s no need to be so shy.’ I meant it; after all we’d had sex after a rather unpleasant encounter with a conjured stoor worm. The worm I’d prefer to forget but Jamie was kind of sweet, even if he was a Moncrieffe.
‘Are you here to pick up Maggie and her man?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘His name’s Rory.’ Then he added unnecessarily, ‘Moncrieffe.’
‘That’s very kind of you to come all this way.’
He gave an awkward shrug. ‘They’re part of our Clan.’ He looked at his shoes. ‘We look after our own.’
No doubt he was embarrassed because I didn’t have a Clan but I wasn’t thin-skinned enough to take offence. Instead I glanced meaningfully at Speck and he nodded. He hadn’t met Jamie before but he had a keen understanding of the situation. As nice as Jamie was, he wasn’t the Moncrieffe bigwig I was looking for – but he could help me get to him. Judging from his sidelong glances, Jamie didn’t know who Speck was; we could use that to our advantage.
Without any prompting, my old warlock buddy pulled back his shoulders. ‘I’m Dr Speck,’ he said, stepping forward
and thrusting out his hand. Jamie stared at it warily before taking it and receiving a vigorous shake in return. ‘I’m here to oversee the return travel of the Moncrieffe pair.’
Jamie was taken aback. ‘You are? But isn’t Speck the name of…’
‘Maggie and Rory have both had serious accidents,’ he interrupted sternly, before Jamie began to connect the dots and realised who Speck really was – a thieving warlock who had worked with me on all manner of heists. ‘They need to be closely monitored.’
Jamie frowned. ‘Aren’t you a little young to be a doctor?’ He clamped a hand over his mouth. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude but…’
‘I have a baby face,’ Speck replied. I almost snorted. Speck’s features were thin and gaunt, as befitted a typical geek warlock. The last thing anyone would describe him as would be baby-faced.
Jamie looked at me suspiciously. Unfortunately for us, he wasn’t just a pretty boy; now he was getting over the shock of seeing me, his brain was starting to work again. ‘The other doctor said they were both fine to travel.’ What he left unsaid was obvious – that he didn’t trust anything or anyone when I was in the picture. I didn’t know what I’d done recently to merit such mistrust; I’d not been perfect but I’d returned the jewel I’d stolen from the Moncrieffes and helped save the damned world by freeing the Foinse, the source of all Highland magic. Surely I deserved some brownie points for that?
‘What gives?’ I asked softly. ‘I thought we were almost friends.’
Jamie patted his pocket as if he were checking for his wallet. When he realised I’d caught him in the action, he took a guilty step back.
‘Ah,’ I said. ‘You think I’m going to pick your pocket.’
‘You did it once before.’ He had a point.
‘I didn’t know you then. I don’t steal from people I like.’
‘You like me?’
I tried to look disarming. ‘I do.’
‘And do you like me?’ interrupted a second, lazy voice.
I looked over my shoulder. Leaning against the door with his arms folded across his broad chest and burnished gold hair falling artlessly across one eye in a way that could only be artful, was Byron, the Moncrieffe heir. My stomach flipped. ‘Byron,’ I cooed, unable to hide my joy at his presence. ‘I don’t like you. I love you.’
He blinked. I realised I’d probably said the wrong thing so I slung an arm round Jamie’s shoulders, ignoring his obvious flinch. ‘I love Jam Jam too.’
Byron raised his eyebrows. ‘Indeed.’ I couldn’t tell whether he was amused or annoyed. He flicked a look at Speck. ‘You’re the warlock.’
‘Um, that’s Dr Warlock to you,’ Speck responded.
Byron’s perfect brow furrowed. ‘Pardon?’
‘Never mind,’ I said quickly. ‘How are Maggie and Rory doing?’ I spoke about the pair of them as if we were old friends.
‘As well as can be expected when you’ve a ruptured appendix and severe hypothermia to deal with.’
‘That’s what happens when you wander up Scottish mountains in the middle of winter,’ I said cheerfully. ‘They really should have had better equipment. Maggie was attempting to climb up an ice wall without a rope.’
If I’d expected Byron to look annoyed that one of his Clanlings had thrown caution to the wind and almost been killed in the process, I was disappointed. He smiled. ‘Was she really?’ He shook his head. ‘Good for her.’
‘Good for her? Are you kidding me? She almost died! Not to mention the cost of the rescue team venturing out to find her and her fool husband. What happened to common sense?’
‘You were part of the team that helped them,’ he said with dawning comprehension. ‘I heard there was a Sidhe involved but I assumed it was someone from the Polwarth Clan. They’re usually the ones up in these mountains.’
I sniffed. ‘There was a Polwarth with us but she’s not Sidhe.’ I wasn’t annoyed that he’d not kept tabs on me. No siree. Not me. ‘How’s your lovely girlfriend Tipsania?’ I asked snidely.
Byron’s expression closed immediately. ‘Fine.’ He pushed himself away from the door. ‘I’ll tell her you were asking after her.’
‘I’m sure she’ll be thrilled,’ I shot back.
Speck brushed against me, giving a gentle reminder about what I was really here for. Bugger. He was right. I shook out my hair and plastered a fake smile on my face. Byron Moncrieffe wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the foolish actions of others when I told him about Debbie and the fact that the Carnegies were carrying her off in secrecy to the Cruaich for their own nefarious purposes.
Byron stepped towards me. He was at least half a foot taller than me and I had to resist the urge to pull back and give myself some breathing space. I did drop my arm from Jamie, however, and he scuttled away, watching Byron and me with wide eyes.
‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ I said.
‘And I’ve got something to tell you,’ Byron returned. ‘For your information, Rory and Maggie were practising for the Games. Last time the Adventure course involved some ice climbing. They were working for the glory of the Moncrieffe Clan, regardless of how lacking in common sense you think they were.’
‘Games? You’re kidding me? They risked their lives so they could win some pennant?’
Byron tsked. ‘You really have no idea, have you?’
‘Go on,’ I taunted. ‘Enlighten me.’
The rancour disappeared from his face and his tone dropped. ‘Believe me, there’s nothing I’d like more.’ His gaze dropped to my mouth and lingered there; there was no doubt as to what he was really referring.
I balled up my fists. ‘Oh, I’m more enlightened than you think.’
‘Really.’
I flicked a look at Jamie; judging from the way his shoulders were hunched, he wanted to be a million miles away from here. Nevertheless, I pointed at him. ‘Ask him,’ I said. ‘Your friend can tell you how enlightened I am.’
A muscle jerked in Byron’s cheek. He moved away and I expelled a silent sigh of relief. ‘Do you know what the Games are?’ he asked.
I folded my arms. ‘No.’
He smirked. ‘They’re held every generation. Almost every Clan participates and, while the prize for the winner is grand, they’re really about the honour of beating everyone else.’
Honour? Ha! If the prize was so grand, then they wouldn’t trouble themselves with honour. You couldn’t feed a family on it, after all.
My thoughts must have been written across my face because Byron’s expression lit up. ‘Honour is important to the Sidhe.’ His eyes glinted. ‘Most of us, anyway. But I’m not lying, the prize really is worth having because the winner can ask for anything. If it’s within the means of the Clans to grant it, they shall receive it.’
I hadn’t been expecting that. I felt Speck shiver in delight next to me, although he managed to keep his mouth shut. ‘Anything?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ Byron said smugly.
‘Wow.’ I couldn’t dampen my curiosity. ‘So what did the last generation’s winner ask for?’
Jamie squeaked. ‘Oh!’ he blurted out. ‘But last time…’ He stopped mid-sentence.
I paused, my eyes narrowing. ‘Last time what?’ Suddenly Byron looked guilty, as if he wished he’d not brought up the subject. ‘Spit it out, princeling.’
‘The last winner asked for a black rose,’ he said heavily.
My nose wrinkled. ‘A black rose? What use is that?’
‘They’re very rare.’
Big deal. I wasn’t a complete idiot though. Jamie’s reaction hadn’t been anything to do with the prize; his squeal had been because of the winner. Something squirmed inside me. ‘Who won?’
‘It was a long time ago, Integrity. Does it really matter?’ I didn’t say anything. Instead I just held his eyes, silently demanding the truth. Byron sighed. ‘Fine. The last winner was Gale Adair.’
Both Speck and I sucked in audible breaths. My father. Supposedly the least honourable Sidhe who
had ever existed ‒ if Moncrieffes like Byron’s father were to be believed. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek.
‘I’m sorry, Integrity.’ Byron sounded like he meant it. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’
‘Most people either recoil at any mention of him or pretend he never existed. You don’t do that,’ I said flatly. I tilted my chin. ‘Any Clan can participate in these Games?’
He grimaced, sensing the direction of my thoughts. ‘Almost any Clan.’
‘Meaning what exactly?’
‘Every generation, a different Clan is responsible for planning the Games. We take turns because it wouldn’t be fair for the organisers to participate as well. It’s important that the challenges are kept secret to make the playing field as even as possible.’
I felt a strange fire light up in the pit of my belly. Ohhhhhh, yes. ‘And the Clan organising these Games?’ I asked. ‘It’s obviously not the Moncrieffes because you lot are running around trying to get yourself killed before they start.’
‘The Carnegies,’ Byron said, confirming my suspicion. ‘It’s their turn. Apparently they’re going all out to create a spectacle. Even though they can’t participate, the organisers compete to make the Games they hold better and more exciting than everyone else’s. There’s a lot of kudos involved in getting them right.’
Luckily I had some experience in maintaining a poker face. I sent a quick prayer of gratitude towards Taylor for all his training. ‘I see.’ I shrugged. ‘How interesting. Well, as you and Jamie are both here, I think Dr Speck will be happy to release Maggie and Rory into your care. Providing they stay away from any mountains, of course.’
‘Thank you, Dr Speck,’ Byron said drily.
Speck coughed. ‘Not a problem.’
I turned, ready to go.
‘Wait, you were going to tell me something,’ Byron said. ‘It sounded important.’
There was no way I was going to blab about Debbie now. I might not have heard about the Games before now but I was already on the inside track and I wasn’t going to lose that advantage.
