by Liz de Jager
I grin at him. ‘I didn’t say you were clueless.’
‘Your eyes implied.’
‘Shut up. Go to bed.’
I hastily clean up the kitchen and load the dishwasher. Stuffing my papers and camera into the bag, I wander into Dante’s room. He’s propped up against the headboard with two duvets covering him. He holds the ring box in his hands and turns it towards me so I can see the moonstone ring. It gleams impossibly brightly in the soft light of the bedside lamp.
‘Do you think it’s genuine? I mean, do you think it’s the same ring Eadric had?’
‘I think it’s a similar ring to Eadric’s, but I’ve never seen the real thing so I don’t know.’
‘Is there a way we can find out?’
I look from him to the box. ‘Only way would be to talk to someone in the family.’
‘Would that be possible?’
I shrug. ‘I’m not sure that’s advisable right now.’
He smiles at me but he’s shivering so much his teeth click together and he burrows down.
‘Thanks for hanging out with me and for not telling anyone about, you know, me.’
I wave my hand.
‘I’ll call you in the morning. Try not to blow anything up.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
Instead of going home I head to Milton’s. Rorke grunts at me from his position at the door and scowls.
‘You’re early, what’s going on?’
‘Is Miron here? I need a quick word.’
‘If you can get past the twins, you can go up.’
It’s not time for the club to be open yet. The staff are all present and in the process of tidying and getting ready for the night as I walk in. There’s something very unglamorous about a club when the lights are all on, revealing the sticky floor, the slightly scuffed tables and the ratty chairs. Nothing looks magical at all, not even any of the supernatural creatures doing their chores. It looks a bit sad and I wander past them and return the few nods I get. I spot the DJ on his little stage.
‘I love your music,’ I call out to him.
He looks up with a smile and edges past his decks.
‘Cheers. I’ve seen you and your friend around. You come here often enough for Philippe to worry when you don’t show.’ He drops down onto the stage so he can swing his legs off the side.
I smile at him. ‘I’m Kit, by the way.’
‘I’m Torsten. Really nice to meet you, Kit.’ He has a slight accent, maybe German, maybe French? His smile is friendly as he shakes my hand. His eyes are a vibrant green framed by dark lashes, but I can’t decide on his hair colour. It looks red with shocks of gold highlights, as if he spends time in the sun, and I wonder if it’s natural or dyed. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I’m hoping to find Miron.’
A flash of something crosses Torsten’s features and he sits back.
‘I didn’t know you were friends with Miron.’
‘Not friends, as such,’ I say. ‘More like he’s a family acquaintance.’
‘Ooh, intriguing!’ He stands up. ‘If you have time before you leave, come back and I’ll show you my decks.’ He winks at me in an overly exaggerated fashion and laughter bubbles up from me.
‘Does that work with all the girls?’
He pretends to be hurt, a hand to his chest. ‘I don’t know what you mean. It was an honest invite.’
‘I’m sure,’ I say, turning to walk away but he calls me back.
‘No, seriously. I have some new remixes I want to try out. If you have time, before you leave, come by. I’d like to know what you think.’
‘We’ll see.’ I smile at him and walk away towards the staircase where the twins are lounging. Only one of them stands up when I approach.
‘Miron’s not in,’ she says, her gaze sharp.
‘Miron is always in,’ I reply. ‘Ask him if he’s got five minutes for me. That’s all I ask. Tell him I’m here about Lilith.’
Her twin lifts the weird mobile phone device he carries, mutters into it, seems to hear something I can’t and gives her a nod.
‘He says to send her up.’
They do a quick scan to make sure I’m not carrying weapons dangerous enough to hurt Miron. They let me keep the knife because it’s a knife and not a knife.
Miron is waiting for me in his office. He looks tired, possibly the first actual human frailty I’ve ever seen on him, and it intrigues me.
‘Thank you for seeing me,’ I say, meaning it. ‘I appreciate that you’re busy.’
‘You mentioned Lilith?’
‘I need to know if you think she can be involved in any of this. I’ve done more research and the kids going missing feels like it’s on a bigger scale than . . .’ I move my hand in a circle. ‘You know, just an accident. Could it be Lilith or any of her friends, maybe? Someone trying to impress you or her or your bosses?’
He paces to the towering flower arrangement with its slightly too-red blooms and adjusts them until he’s happy with it, then turns towards me, shucking the cuffs of his shirt. I guess even demons need their displacement activities.
‘Let me explain Lilith. She isn’t above being petty and stealing children from humans but she would not do it so haphazardly. She would call a generation of children to be with her across an entire city the size of New York. This? These petty little crimes that you’re investigating are as far below her as the Queen of England picking up her own dogs’ dirt.’ His smile is toothy and a bit hungry and not for the first time I tell myself never to forget that Miron is a fallen angel.
‘You could have just said “no”, you know.’
His shrug is elegant and his expression weary. ‘You would have gone on and on so I had to make sure you understood what I meant. I am a busy man, Kit. Do you have any further questions?’
‘What about any of the other Infernal? Would anyone else want to make a name for themselves?’
‘Oh, Kit. You are so very human.’ His smile is sharp and cutting. I don’t turn my back on him, moving as he circles me. ‘No, this is not how the Infernal draw attention to themselves. Stealing children is dirty and unpleasant. We look for bigger things, like wars and, if there aren’t any, we instigate them.’ His eyes slant towards me. ‘Happy with my explanation? Did that help?’
‘Plenty. Thank you for your time.’ I hold myself stiffly as I leave the room, feeling disconcerted and more miserable than before. I’ve only moved a few steps when I see one of the guards leaning against the wall beside the door. She (he?) pushes away from the wall and leads me back down the passage.
‘You got what you needed?’
‘I got an answer. I’m sure you’re not concerned either way.’ I try and bite back the sarcasm but it’s there, coating my words.
‘But we are concerned, Blackhart, know that.’ The warrior’s gaze meets mine and she nods, underlining the seriousness of her words. ‘There is talk that whoever is behind this is not Fae. Nor are they one of the Infernal.’
‘Interesting. So that leaves me with a human who can fly and disappear at will and who likes to steal small children?’
She makes an impatient sound in the back of her throat. ‘There are a great many more supernatural creatures than merely the Infernal and the Fae, Blackhart.’
‘Are you talking about bloodsuckers?’ I sigh when she rolls her eyes at me. ‘The shapeshifters?’
‘Perhaps. I do not know.’
‘You really aren’t making this easy.’
An elegant shoulder is lifted, an eyebrow is quirked. ‘We are as curious as you about the disappearances. It has become an entertaining diversion.’
We’ve reached the bottom of the stairs and the other one, maybe her brother(?) joins us. They share a long silent look, which as a complete stranger I can’t follow, before the brother turns to look at me.
‘Torsten wants to see you before you leave,’ he says before turning away and taking his seat at the bottom of the stairs. ‘A word, Blackhart?’
I pause next to
him and look down into his strange grey eyes that are almost colourless. I have the chilling thought that I’m looking into a strange mist-covered chasm, but then he blinks and I’m fine and he’s smiling – it’s just my imagination.
‘Wrap your case up quickly. Word is She’s getting bored waiting.’
‘The case takes as long as it takes,’ I tell him, annoyed by the implication that I’m dragging my feet. ‘Besides, what can she do?’
‘She can send her Beast, girl, and we don’t want that. None of us does.’
I’m in time to see a shudder visibly shake his sister and a feeling of unease creeps up on me.
‘She wouldn’t dare,’ I say. ‘The Beast is not allowed to hunt in the Frontier.’
‘There are loopholes. The Beast can do whatever he likes in the Frontier, with or without your sanction. He has –’ he snaps his fingers as he tries to find the right word – ‘how do you say it? Diplomatic immunity.’
I look from one to the other. ‘Are you guys serious?’
‘Like death.’
A bit morbid but I’ll take it. I nod goodbye at them and walk past, sidestepping wet patches on the washed floor and head over to the bar.
‘Hey, Philippe, can I have something to drink?’
Philippe passes me my bottled water and a can of Coke. ‘Give that to Torsten, will you? I’ve not had a chance to get it to him yet.’
‘So he’s told you he wants to see me too?’ I ask as I move away.
Philippe frowns at me. ‘No, he didn’t – I just thought I overheard him saying to the twins . . .’ He shakes his head. ‘Sorry, Kit, I didn’t mean to presume . . .’
It’s my turn to frown at Philippe. ‘Are you okay? You sound off.’
He leans forward against the counter and looks embarrassed. ‘Too many late nights. What can I say?’
‘I’ve been coming here a year, dude. I’ve never seen you tired. Maybe you need a break.’
‘That would be nice but things have been tense here recently. Lots of fights and we had to get the cops down to get rid of some guys hanging around dealing.’
I look at him in shock. ‘Seriously?’
‘Rorke, as you can imagine, went mental. He threw this guy out and almost broke him in two. Then his buddies turned up later and it just got nasty.’
‘That would explain Miron.’
Philippe’s blond brows rise. ‘Oh, yes. He’s been in a foul mood ever since.’
‘Someone should maybe have pointed it out to me before I went up there to talk to him,’ I say.
‘Miron loves you, Kit. He knew your parents. He’d never treat you badly.’
I drop my hand, holding the water bottle away from my mouth.
‘Seriously?’
Philippe frowns at me. ‘You must know, surely? He was really good friends with your mum when she was about your age, maybe a bit older. Yes, the stories are they used to paint the town red.’
‘I never knew that.’
He shrugs and smiles. ‘Well, now you do.’ He checks his watch. ‘Gotta get back to work. I’ll catch you later.’
I nod wordlessly and lift Torsten’s can of Coke. ‘I’ll pass this on.’
I recross the floor and make my way towards the back of the DJ’s box. I recoil briefly when I see something run past my foot and hear the chitter of something small that has sharp, mean little teeth. Keeping my gaze trained on the floor, I step carefully over neatly coiled loops of electrical cable. I’m not a squeamish kind of girl, but rodents give me the heebie-jeebies. I can cope with lizards and spiders and moths and other things, but it’s the sneaky intelligence in mice and rats that creeps me out.
‘Give me your hand.’ Torsten leans down and helps me onto the small stage. The space is cosy, made more so by his electrical equipment. ‘Ah, thanks for this.’ He takes the can out of my hand and pops it open. ‘So, you like to dance?’
I nod and look up into his face and I’m struck by how unusual his features are – a bit sharp and pointy – and I like that he reminds me of a fox, all rich autumn colours.
‘When the mood strikes me.’
Torsten laughs and holds a small USB out to me. ‘Here. I’d love to hear what you think. I’m at Milton’s for another two weeks before I’m travelling back to Spain for the winter.’
I take the memory stick from him and slide it into my hip pocket. ‘I’ll put it on my iPod and see what I think.’
He smiles, looking pleased, and gives me a sly wink. ‘Don’t tell Miron I let you have those files. He’s very possessive over what goes in and out of the club.’
‘No one tells me what to do.’
Sharp white teeth flash at me in the hazy dark followed by a low chuckle.
‘I like you, Kit Blackhart. You have guts.’
‘Why, thank you. I try.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
The Tube ride home is hell. When I eventually exit at Camden I stagger home in a fugue state having stopped by the pizza place to get dinner as I’m pretty sure that Kyle’s not bought anything for himself to eat.
The house is in darkness when I let myself in. I turn on the lights and eat a slice of pizza standing in the kitchen. I hear the front door open and then Kyle’s standing there looking rough and beaten up. His lip’s been cut, his eye is swollen shut and the way he’s holding himself tells me everything must hurt.
‘What the hell?’ I rush towards him and help him sink down into a chair in the dining room.
The look he gives me is one of tired acceptance. ‘A bunch of guys waited until I left the lab with Jilly this evening. They threatened us then decided that I didn’t look scared enough and decided to beat me up. I lost my glasses and they broke Jilly’s phone.’
‘How many of them? And is Jilly okay?’
‘There were six of them. She’s fine. She got a lucky shot in and knocked one guy out.’
‘Have you been to hospital?’
He shakes his head, wincing. ‘No. I helped Jilly move all her research to another lab in another part of the building. Then I called a taxi for her and made sure she got home safely. I thought I’d come home and see if you were okay.’
‘Were they there to warn you off about the Glow?’
His lips form a wry smile but he shakes his head. ‘No, they were goblins – goblins wearing a glamour. They told me that if we didn’t stop investigating the children disappearing they’d take things further.’
I swear some choice swears and Kyle tries a laugh but winces in pain.
‘Can you move?’
‘Yeah, I’m okay. My ribs hurt but they’re not broken.’
Taking him on his word, I help him upstairs. It takes some time, but I clean his face carefully and put butterfly plasters over his eyebrow. His ribs, like mine, are bruised but look far worse. They’re not cracked either, just painful. I make him down a handful of painkillers and push him into a shower.
One thing I’ve learned really well in my time as a Blackhart is how to take care of hurts and aches and pains, but I don’t really have enough patience with it all. I make Kyle some tea, checking that it’s not too hot before carrying it and several slices of pizza upstairs to his room. He’s sitting on the side of the bed, his shoulders rounded, and looks so tired and young that my heart suddenly feels heavy.
‘I sent Dad a text message when I left Jilly’s place,’ Kyle says as I walk in. ‘He’s not replied yet.’
I pull up the chair that lives in front of his desk. ‘Why are they so keen to make sure we stay away from this case, Kyle? I’ve never had this much interference before.’
He tries to shake his head but winces instead ‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s bigger than we think.’
‘Did I ever mention before how much I love being part of this family?’
‘Every single day.’ He wince-laughs at me when I pull a face. ‘So what did you find out today?’
‘Well, that the little girl who’s been taken is called Tia. And her house was warded against me. I couldn’t
actually get into the flat to check things out for myself, then Dante got sick at the crime scene and I had to drive him home.’
‘Wow. Your day sounds as fun as mine. Want to compare notes?’
As he settles himself into his bed, I collect my laptop, the SD card from the camera and all my notes and bring them to him. I find a map of the British Isles and some thumbtacks and bring those too, along with his laptop.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Photos from today, first.’
He flicks through the photos, pausing at the masks. ‘You think the masks prevented you from getting in?’
‘Yes. I also think they made Dante sick.’
‘What?’
‘Remember I helped Dante See the previous time? I did it again today and I think that whatever’s in this flat, which prevented me from getting in, made him sick enough to actually leave.’
‘Anything else about the little girl being taken?’
‘Her brother, Marvin, ran after the bad guy and saw him jump down the stairwell. Not the stairs,’ I clarify, ‘but the actual middle bit. They’re four storeys up.’
‘Even you can’t do that.’
I roll my eyes at him. ‘I’m not superhuman, Kyle.’
‘Whatever. You do some stupid stuff I’ve not seen any other human do, outside of a Hollywood movie, and you don’t die.’
‘You’re being ridiculous. Pay attention.’ I shift uncomfortably. ‘So here’s a list of all the other kids we’ve got going missing across Scotland, England, Wales and Ireland. I thought about it and decided we needed to see how they fit together.’ I pick up the little box of drawing pins. ‘Start reading them out.’
Twenty minutes later I stand back and look at the groups of drawing pins spread around the map of the British Isles. In the past five years, there have been clusters of children disappearing all over the British Isles and somehow no one has thought they were suspicious. Kyle’s cursory research found around thirty-eight kids missing, all in small groups of three or four. It started five years ago in Scotland and, if you work chronologically, a pattern emerges of kids disappearing from Inverness, Edinburgh, Glasgow and then Douglas on the Isle of Man. The pins then show kids missing in Ireland – Dublin – then back to England. Here, we logged disappearances in Liverpool, Manchester and now Brixton in London. But the timings are all over the place so I can’t definitely link them to any feast days, even as a long shot.
