The Shifting Price of Prey [4]

by Suzanne McLeod

  ‘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 an
d 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.’

  ‘It’s an auction site,’ Finn said to me and Hugh. ‘The online auction runs all the time, but once every ten years they hold a real-time “Special Auction” in conjunction with the Carnival Fantastique on the Summer Solstice, which is tomorrow night. That auction has a listing of rare items for people to bid on. Plus there’s another section, a bit like “Want it Now” on eBay. People list hard-to-find items that they want to buy, either for cash or by offering something in exchange, then the Forum’s procurers step in to source the lots. If they do, the site’s updated ready for the real-time auction.’ He flicked his fingers and called an electronic tablet. ‘Tavish downloaded screenshots from the website.’

  I peered over Hugh’s shoulder as he read.

  Forum Mirabilis

  Where anything can be ordered, bought or bartered: contraband spells, banned substances, exotic slaves, rare epicurean delicacies, magical beings or even your heart’s desire, if you are prepared to pay the price.

  Finn brought up another screen and, with a grim look at Hugh, said, ‘We think this might be related to the kidnap victims at the zoo.’

  The screen showed an entry from ‘RiverCat1’: Wanted: Female ailuranthrope. Panthera tigris – any subspecies preferred, though would accept any female ailuranthrope of any big cat species. Must be pure bred, not bitten, and of breeding age.

  There was a tick in the column headed: Sourced.

  ‘Weretigers are obviously not as extinct as everyone thinks,’ I muttered.

  There was a note added to the ‘Sourced’ column: ‘Subspecies Panthera tigris tigris (Bengal tiger). Female comes with one pure-bred cub, also Panthera tigris tigris (Bengal tiger) – male; aged six. Lots can be offered separately or together.’

  They were going to auction off the ambassador’s wife and her kid. I hugged myself, chilled despite the summer heat. ‘That’s sick.’

  Hugh rumbled agreement. ‘However, it does explain the Bangladeshi ambassador’s insistence on his diplomatic immunity.’

  ‘Damn. He’s worried about people finding out, isn’t he?’ I said. ‘Though really you’d think that would be the last thing on his mind.’

  ‘The longer a secret is locked in fear, the more impossible it becomes to release it, even when a more immediate danger threatens.’ A puff of worried dust escaped Hugh’s headridge. ‘But now we know the motive behind the kidnap, it should be easier for us to help the ambassador.’

  ‘It doesn’t explain why they took the zoo employee too.’

  ‘No doubt we’ll find out,’ Hugh said, ‘when we find him. Which is more important right now.’

  ‘This should help.’ Finn handed the tablet to Hugh. ‘There’s a lot more info about the Forum in it. It’s been around since Roman times in various guises, but now all the pre-organisation, leading up to the actual auction date, is done online. It also talks about the gold coins the Emperor’s werewolves throw around.’

  ‘They’re a recompense of sorts,’ Hugh rumbled angrily.

  Finn nodded. ‘They’re given as payment to the person who has had something taken from them by the Forum procurers. The person can either choose to keep the coin and realise its monetary value, or use it to attend the auction and buy back that which has been taken.’

  ‘You mean those who’ve been kidnapped?’

  Finn shook his head. ‘Some of the Forum’s listings are of things, not living beings.’

  Right. ‘So you’re saying whoever’s got the coin can turn up at the Forum, hand over the coin and get their relatives or item back?’ It was too easy. ‘What’s the catch?’

  ‘It’s not a straight exchange. The coin’s only an invitation to attend the Forum and barter. The coin-holder is asked for additional payment of some sort.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Apparently it’s different for everyone. It’s to discourage coin-holders from turning up or, if they do, to make sure the Forum doesn’t lose out.’

  ‘Crap,’ I muttered. ‘It’s probably some Faustian or first-born child thing. But at least the coins are a way into the Forum.’ I looked at Hugh. ‘We’ve got two: the ambassador’s, and the one the werewolves threw at Max. So we could use them to infiltrate the auction, couldn’t we?’

  Hugh nodded. ‘An option to consider, Genny. Though I hope it won’t come to that. It would be better all round to stop the auction before it even begins.’

  I shot him a wry grin. ‘Is this where you tell me to stop trying to teach you to suck eggs?’

  ‘Your input is always welcome.’ Hugh’s pink teeth sparkled in a gentle smile. ‘If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t ask for your help. ‘Now we have this’ – he waved the tablet – ‘to give to the IT bods at New Scotland Yard, there’s a good chance we can find the exact auction location. I’ll get it off to them right away.’ He called Constable Lamber over, showed him the tablet and started issuing instructions.

  A sudden thought hit me. ‘Am I on the auction wanted list?’

  Finn shook his head. ‘Tavish did a thorough search.’

  Relief washed over me. ‘Good to know I’m not going to end up on the auction block.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Finn agreed, clasping my shoulder. ‘I hate to say it, but the Autarch did a good thing giving Tavish this info.’

  I snorted. ‘Only because he’s got a showdown scheduled with the Emperor. He’s probably worked out that if the police get in on the act, it’ll weigh the odds in his favour.’

  ‘Ahh.’ Finn gave me a ‘should’ve known’ look. ‘Still, at least it gives the victims a better chance.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I agreed, hoping it would save t
hem, and determined to help any way I could. Only, unease pricked at me. The Empress card had said ‘save my children’ – Bastien and Dilek, presumably – and helping the police nab the Emperor would do that. But if the Emperor was nabbed before I got a chance to ask him my question about the fae’s trapped fertility, where did that leave me and the fae? Okay, so it might be that the Emperor’s price for telling me the answer was to get him out of clink. Only while Hugh might be pro-fae, I doubted the human law would see that as a good reason to let the Emperor go, so realistically, it wasn’t a price I could pay.

  Crap, maybe I’d made a mistake giving Hugh the info about the Forum. Maybe this was what Tavish meant when he said he’d had a prediction that I could screw things up, and leave the fae’s fertility permanently trapped? Only he was the one who’d sent the info over. Damn. I needed to speak to him.

  Heart thudding, I called. And got his voicemail.

  Keeping my voice low, I started leaving him a worried message—

  Finn’s hand closed over mine and ended the call. I looked at him in surprise. He slung an arm round my shoulders and subtly turned us so we faced away from Hugh. ‘Tavish and I already talked about this, Gen,’ he said quietly. ‘If the Emperor ends up in goal, then it could work in our favour. We can get him out, free and clear, the same way Tavish planned for you last Hallowe’en, if you were ever arrested for that human’s death. We’ll make the Emperor an ùmaidh.’

  An ùmaidh. A temporary changeling. The sidhe don’t only leave them in cradles when stealing human babies, they and the lesser fae use them, if needed, to escape human law. An ùmaidh might not ‘live’ long, a month at most, but then human justice for fae and vamps is swift and fatal. Severing part of your soul and sacrificing some flesh, then forging it to a fresh cut log or an animal, isn’t a huge price to pay if you’ve got a one-way ticket to the guillotine.