by Richard Amos
The numbers on the other screen gave a reading of ten. Which meant there was some high-level magic going on inside that rose too.
Crap again.
“What the hell is that?” I said to myself.
“We’ll get you a sample,” Lars said. “Let me put in a call to the council. They’ll send us someone to do this safely.”
There was no such thing, really, but he was right to be cautious. Simply taking a sample would be a stupid risk.
Did the rose just glitter? “Did you see that?”
“What?” Lars asked, scratching his thick red beard.
“The rose. It did something. There!”
A strange glittering, like light reflecting on, well, glitter. Plus, the rose looked like it was moving.
“Get back,” Lars said. “Everyone get back. Now!”
Black vines burst out of the rose, curling around Melony’s body, thorns bursting to life to pierce her flesh. Blood leaked out of her, and the vines spread until she was completely cocooned in the thorny mess.
“Oh, God!”
“Clear the area!” Lars barked.
One vine coiled upward, a dark spiral. A bud formed at the tip, quickly swelling and opening up into a rose about the size of a human head. Pure, intense red.
What the fuck?
It didn’t stop there.
“Are those…lips?”
Yes. There were lips in the face of the rose.
Just kept on getting better.
“Cretins!” The lips moved. A voice came from the rose, a blend of male and female. Bit like a robot but less fun.
Whoopee.
“Sin made right, a cleansing for a new world order. Roses where once there was dung. They will reach higher ground, be blessed in all things beyond the dirt and grime of this world. She is saved. The end is coming.”
The rose collapsed, the petals and vines crumpling to dust, just Melony’s body again, the rose still painted there, glittering as if nothing had happened.
“Shit,” I whispered.
Lars barked into his phone as I stood frozen to the spot, waiting for my brain to catch up.
Once the council had arrived, Melony was taken away securely. The rest of us had been shoved out of there for safety. In fact, the whole of Oudezijds Achterburgwal and the area of De Wallen had been blocked off. All businesses evacuated due to the magic bollocks, so I headed home on my bike, Lars promising to call me later about the autopsy when the council got in touch.
Pod and magic was so not a fun combo.
Evi had taken Cherry home.
This case had been ripped out of my hands, out of police’s. The council was on it, which didn’t mean sod all. They weren’t exactly the best anymore. Okay, they had better resources and stuff, but they’d caused this pod shit in the first place with their meddling.
Home was better than waiting at a morgue, sitting around in a clinical place when I could go and join Lou’s tea party with Sophie and Luuk.
I didn’t get very far.
The Ricci twins stepped into my path, along with Izzie—the scarred, pale, crazy bitch with a ponytail so scraped back it was in danger of taking her face off.
Conclave knob heads.
She was at the front, the twins slightly behind. They clearly didn’t want me peddling any further.
Both with dark hair, olive skin, and green eyes—both pure arseholes. The last time they’d caused drama, Mila Young had hit them with a boil-sprouting potion over in Spui. It’d been some awesomeness I’d missed out on.
“I see your boil problem’s gone,” I said. “Shame, I missed it.”
Izzie offered me a toxic sneer. “Don’t try and be clever.”
“What the fuck do you want?” I snapped back. “I’m not in the mood for your shit.” I drew my double-pointed spear, the golden tips glinting in the sunlight. “Unless you wanna tango. I’m up for that.”
“It’s almost time,” Elena Ricci proclaimed.
“For what? Lunch?”
“The end,” Izzie added.
Emilio Ricci giggled.
“Oh, right. You wanna burn me to death. By the way, do you have a date for that as I need to pop it on my calendar?”
Izzie took a step forward, totally unbothered by my weapon, and the white smoke curling around it. The twins were, though. They’d been knocked back too many times when they’d come for me or Dean. Basically understood pain would come bite them in the arse if they fucked with us.
Izzie needed to learn that lesson.
“Nothing would make me happier than kicking the shit out of you,” Izzie retorted. “But that’s not for me to do. There’s nothing anyone can do now until the time is right for the holy burning.”
“Bring it.”
“We will.”
“What’s the point of this, then? Just want to show me how scary you all are? Look closely. Can you see me shaking in my boots? No? No shakes? Ah, that’s because I don’t care. Oh, big scary religious crazies keep telling me they wanna burn me up. It’s my fault there’s pods everywhere and blah, blah, blah.”
Running my mouth was a defense mechanism that often got me in trouble—especially back in the day when my head was a lot hotter. But it also made me feel better. I was scared, completely bricking it over this wanting to burn me thing. The police and council had both questioned Elijah, his followers, even getting intel from the questioning of Conclave members from other cities. But there was nothing to go on but hearsay, zero in the way of evidence. I’d never been mentioned online or in print or recorded anywhere, just words, a prayer for my ears only. A few people had overheard it, yeah, but it didn’t hold up. Not that I wasn’t believed, just that evidence was a slippery bastard. Without it, there wasn’t anything anyone could do. The moment there was, things would change.
Sneaky bastards.
It was all free speech stuff—an excuse to be hateful. Going around spreading hate about anything that didn’t fit their agenda. That wasn’t an opinion. That was just pure evil.
The Conclave was being monitored. I mean, they were a threat to the world as we knew it. Even the police were scared of them.
“We just wanted to remind you that your days are numbered,” Izzie said, ignoring what I’d just said.
“Also known as being cunty. I don’t need reminding, cheers.”
“See you soon.”
I gripped my spear, holding back on going apeshit and skewering her and those twins with it. Just watched them leave, listening to them giggle as they vanished down a side street.
That was the first time I’d seen them in weeks, and that was it? A gentle reminder they weren’t giving up this whole holy fire thing?
Awesome. Loved hearing that.
I called Dean.
“Hey, baby,” he answered. “How are things over there?”
I explained everything to him about Melony and the rose thing.
“That’s horrible. And confusing.”
“I know.”
“You okay?”
“I will be. Just had a run-in with the Ricci Twins and Izzie.” Then I explained my encounter.
“Fucking bastards!” he raged. “Where are you? I’m coming to meet you.”
“I’m fine, I—”
“Where are you, Jake? I’m coming to meet you.”
“You’re with your dad. Don’t worry. I’m going home.”
“We’re going to Mila’s. Dad’s come up with something that might help.”
“At Mila’s?”
“A potential potion. Let me come and get you, and we’ll do this together.”
“Okay. I’m not far from home, though. Are you still in Vondelpark?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s too far for you to come. I—”
“I’m hanging up and calling a cab. I’ll pick you up, and then we’ll head to Mila’s. Okay?”
“There’s no need, treacle.”
“How close to home are you?”
“Literally a minute away
. Don’t come rushing over here, Dean. It’s fine. You do what you need to do with Mila.”
“I won’t hang up until you get there.”
I wheeled my bike the short distance home with one hand.
“I’m speaking to Lars about this,” Dean said. “They can’t keep getting away with these threats.”
“Maybe I need to let them actually punch me or something. You know, leave a mark? Get them to do it in front of a camera. Then it’ll be free rein.”
“I don’t think so. If they lay a hand on you, they’re all dead. I’ll be locked away forever for mass murder.”
“That’s so hot.”
“What? Being a mass murderer?”
I arrived outside our house. “Yeah.”
“Twisted.”
“That fact you’d kill for me, dumb arse.”
He chuckled. “I know. I’m teasing.”
Hearing his voice was making me feel a lot better. “Thanks for talking.” I released a shaky breath.
“Always, baby.”
“Okay, I’m sticking it in the hole.”
“What?”
“The key. God, you’re so dirty.”
“You know it, baby.” I could picture his face, his eyebrow cocking, his tongue running over his lips.
Yummy.
“I’m inside.” Lou was next door having her tea party.
“Okay. Make some tea, relax.”
“Dean?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Stay on the line a bit longer?”
“You didn’t even need to ask.”
Eight
Dean
With Jake safely at home, and after half an hour of talking to him, a text response came through from Mila.
“Everything okay?” Orla asked.
“Don’t worry about it.” I pocketed the phone. At least the strength of her perfume had abated. “Mila says we can go over now.”
“Very well. My guards will escort us to Spui. I’m looking forward to meeting this Mila Young.”
The reality would be hard-hitting. Orla wouldn’t take to Mila’s curt ways.
“Then let’s be off.” Dad clicked his fingers, and minions scurried out of the trees, gathering up the picnic things.
What a life to never have to lift a finger.
It would be my idea of hell.
I followed Orla, with Dad still bossing his servants around, two fae guards up ahead.
“Thank you for believing me,” she said, glancing at me over her shoulder.
“That’s fine.”
“You’re not the same Dean Tseng from all those years ago. Why would you be? You’re not nineteen anymore.”
“We’re not. Listen, Orla. I’m sorry if I upset you. It really did feel like an ambush, like the two of you were plotting against me.”
“Why would we want to do that?”
“Overly suspicious, I guess.”
“And the comments your father made,” she added. “I did speak with him, warned him about the eggshells he’s walking on.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I meant what I said about wanting to be in your life. I do. I want to be your friend, to get to know you as this man you’ve become, as well as your family. Presumptuous, I know. You might not want me around. You have no reason to. But if you want to be friends, can we at least give it a try?”
She was so sweet, so soft when she spoke. Rattled too. My outburst had really hit hard. It was all over her face. The fact her perfume wasn’t doing anything now spoke volumes. A mistake on her part, seeing as it had some kind of effect she kept forgetting about.
A mistake…
Did she use that perfume to make her way to the forefront of taking the throne? To make sure she got those votes?
Was that unfair?
I didn’t fully trust her, but there was sincerity there, fake or not. Being friends as she wanted, it was a long shot. Extremely long. Still, giving someone the benefit of the doubt wasn’t beneath me. However, my family came first, so at the first hint of a problem from her, that would be it. Any more of that perfume and Mr. Nice Guy would be dead and buried.
I may have lost my head a little, perfume or not, but it wouldn’t happen again.
That stood for her and my father.
Assumptions were bad, but so was not being vigilant.
“Let’s just take it a day at a time,” I replied.
“I can’t ask for more than that.” She took hold of the skirt of her dress and twirled across the grass. As she danced, daisies sprang to life, where her feet touched, a gentle mist of pink fae magic swirling around them.
“You’ve still got it,” I said.
When we were nineteen and in love, kissing all over the summer realm, that was one of her tricks. Back then, it’d been one of many things to make me obsess over her.
I remembered the meadows, the daisies, the laughter, the carefree attitude we’d had. I’d never lived in Faerie properly, only visited to see my father. I didn’t see much of him, but I did Orla. Our friendship had lasted two years, culminating in that night, and a few weeks after, before I never stepped foot in Faerie again.
For me, Faerie was the worst place in the world. It reminded me of nothing but how useless my dad was, and there was so much political bullshit over there, hiding behind the beauty. I didn’t want a part of it. Maybe Orla would make things better as queen.
Good for her if she did.
Mila’s apartment in Spui was a treasure trove of potions, charms, and magical texts. She was the greatest alchemist I knew, a loyal friend, and someone I trusted implicitly.
Her potions helped with my extreme OCD, my guilt of the past. Sometimes I needed what Mila called her Charm Elixir to get me through the worst of the darkness.
“Hello, Dean. Others.” She stood at the center of her living room, dressed in a pink sari, golden bangles jangling on her brown arms almost up to her elbows. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, threaded with gold beads.
“I am Orla Locke.” She extended a hand, which Mila took warily, saying nothing.
An instant distrust or just Mila being Mila?
“And I am Evander Gold. Dean’s father.” He didn’t offer her his hand. “What a splendid place this is.”
“Indeed.” She was unimpressed with his compliment. “Dean tells me you are here for your granddaughter, to solve the mystery of her ability.”
“Correct, my dear.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He laughed. “Noted. Anyway, do you know Weed of Tine?”
“I do. I have some here.”
“From your impressive stores, I guessed that. What I need for you to do is to brew it with Lavender and Milkwood, adding in ground black pepper.”
Mila crossed her arms. “Oh?”
“A four-hour brew, the heat constantly on high.”
“Thus, a high risk of burning or boiling down. Unless I add a stabilizer. I have just the thing.”
“Then, you are just the alchemist we need, Miss Young.”
“Mila. What exactly is it you want to do with this potion?”
He took a seat on a gold sofa without asking, which he admired with several loving strokes seeing as he practically worshipped gold things. “Brewing Weed of Tine in this way unlocks the properties of the plant, which will, in turn, unlock the mysteries surrounding Louise. When used by me, I will establish a connection between us and amplify my magic to see better. Since she is a quarter fae, I need this boost to clear any mists that would cloud me from examining what makes her tick. This isn’t the same as dealing with a full fae or even a half-fae like my son.” He sighed dramatically. “However, I am not skilled enough to brew the potion, and neither is anyone in Faerie who I know.”
“I am,” Mila announced without arrogance. “I have never heard of this formula before, though. I will be researching it first.”
He bowed like he was in the theater. “I’m pleased we don’t need to source someone outside of th
e city.”
The alchemist turned to me. “There is no charge for this one seeing as it is for the benefit of that delightful daughter of yours.”
“One I am excited to meet,” Dad added.
Mila didn’t spare him so much as a flick of her eyes. “I will bring the concoction to you once it’s done.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “I really appreciate this.”
“I’m happy to help. Now, if you would please excuse me.”
That was it. The end of our visit. Mila wouldn’t ask again, a woman of little patience for dilly-dallying.
I nodded. “See you later.” I turned to leave.
“A pleasure to have met you.” My dad couldn’t help himself. “Really. I’m pleased that my son has friends as skilled as you to help him out.”
Mila didn’t say a word, watched him and Orla, who’d kept her mouth shut. With another laugh from Dad, they finally got the message and followed me outside.
“She doesn’t seem happy,” Orla said, flipping her hair.
“It’s more about keeping things lean.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she likes things to run without waffle and unnecessary extras. Her time is valuable.”
Orla tried to mask her irritation, failing miserably. “Time is precious to everyone.”
“Anyway, I’ll see you both at my house later.” My stomach flipped. It was coming, really here. He was going to meet Louise. “I’ll see you then.”
“Until later,” Dad responded, turned and swept off.
Irritation gone, Orla smiled sweetly. “Goodbye.”
“Bye.”
Another spike of distrust as I watched her walk away.
Nine
Jake
Food done and laid out on the coffee table—we’d gone for buffet-style instead of a proper meal—I perched at the edge of the sofa, biting my nails. Once a bad habit of mine, something really needed to get me worked up to have my fingers in my gob nowadays.
Like Evander coming here.
Fuck!
Lou was as calm as anything, looking through a book about Neptune. Proper chilled, completely unphased. Not like me about to crack.
