I had to get him to leave me alone. Just as soon as I could move without falling over.
‘That was before dead faelings started clogging up the river,’ Bandana sneered. ‘What happens if she’s next? You might be first in the queue, satyr, but snagging pole position means sod all if the sidhe’s dead. We have to protect our future.’
I needed a plan.
‘Gen’s more than capable of protecting herself most of the time, dryad,’ Finn growled, and I mentally cheered him on, ‘but if she does need help, you’d be last on her list.’
Bandana wasn’t even on the list.
I took a steadying breath and nudged Finn’s arm, telling him to stay out of it, then, moving slowly, I walked towards the dock’s handrail until I was out of sight of the press, not wanting to rely on Bandana and his Unseen spell. I looked down at the river—the tide was in, and the water eddied brown and murky just below the dock—then turned to face Bandana. ‘I want you to take a message to Lady Isabella,’ I said calmly. Lady Isabella wasn’t high on my list of BFFs, but since she was Head Dryad and Bandana’s graft-mother, I knew he’d pay attention.
He strode over and stood next to the railing, legs apart, branches flexing, leering down at me. ‘What’s the message, sidhe?’
‘Tell her I don’t want you or any of her other thugs following me.’
He made a noise like branches creaking in the wind: laughing. ‘You forget I just saved your life or something, sidhe?’
Talk about bigging himself up! My life hadn’t ever been in danger, not that I bothered to tell him that. Instead I focused on the group of uniforms by the dock and called the Stun spell from Constable Martin’s baton. She didn’t notice as the green firefly of magic shot towards me. Luckily, I caught it easily this time and held it up between us. ‘Now, I can be civilised if you think you can persuade Lady Isabella I’m serious. Or I can leave you here for her to find.’ I hit him with a ‘just give me an excuse’ look. ‘I’m easy, so it’s your choice.’
‘Lady Isabella won’t be happy if you do anything to me,’ he sneered, the tips of his whip-like branches flaring warily around him.
I shrugged, bouncing the Stun spell on my palm. ‘That’ll make two of us then, seeing as I’m so not happy right now.’
‘You’ll be even less happy if something happens to you,’ he said, keeping a watchful eye on the Stun spell, obviously calculating whether he could dodge it from this close.
‘A point I happen to agree with,’ I said matter-of-factly, ‘which is why there’s a more interesting part to my message.’
He stopped watching the spell and frowned at me.
‘So here’s the deal: I’ll agree to the dryads courting me’—his yellow eyes widened, and behind me I heard Finn stifle a groan—‘but I won’t accept you or anyone else in your gang who took part in your little “rape the sidhe” excursion. Got it?’
Bandana’s expression turned sullen for a moment, then he nodded sharply. ‘Got it, sidhe.’ He looked over my shoulder at Finn. ‘Well, satyr, seeing as the sidhe’s all hot for some real wood in her bed, looks like you’re missing more than sap in your pencil.’ He laughed, and the mocking, creaking sound was repeated by the nearby trees. ‘But hey, no hard feelings; drop by sometime and I’ll give you some tips on how to get it up.’
Anger and disgust ripped through me. He really wasn’t worth the ground he was planted in.
‘Try keeping it up like this,’ I muttered and before he could react I slapped the spell on his chest. Burned mint scorched the air as green lightning arced around him, shoving him back against the railing as it stunned him. Impulsively, I dropped to a crouch, hooked my hands behind his ankles and used his own momentum to heave him up and over the railing. The splash as he hit the water echoed through the loud buzzing in my head as my legs gave way and I collapsed onto my knees, gasping; the exertion was too much, too soon after being jerked around by The Mother. I knelt there, watching in a satisfied daze as the fast currents of the Thames whisked Bandana’s unconscious body away. Lady Isabella would still get my message, just not quite so quickly.
After a few minutes, I realised Finn was again offering me a hand. I looked up to meet his gaze.
‘Lady Isabella’s not the only one who’s not going to be happy,’ he said quietly, belying the flash of anger in his eyes.
No, she wasn’t. I wrapped my fingers round his and let him help me up. ‘He’s a willow; a trip down the river isn’t going to kill him. Unfortunately.’
‘That wasn’t what I meant, Gen.’
‘I know,’ I said, reluctantly pulling my hand from his and stepping back.
‘Why, Gen?’ A muscle twitched along his jaw, but beneath the anger, I could see the hurt, and remorse pricked at me. ‘Why did you do that, why agree to let them near you, when I’ve done everything in my power to keep them away from you? To keep you safe?’
He had. For the last five months he’d kept a gentlemanly distance from me, while managing to convince the rest of London’s fae he was my boyfriend/lover/whatever. He’d also convinced everyone to respect our privacy after the trauma of Hallowe’en and Grace’s death—‘privacy’ being a nice euphemism for: no, we weren’t going to have sex in the middle of a public fertility rite for all to witness, no matter how much they all considered that a great idea. I owed him a hell of a lot for that, and I’d find some way to repay him, but—
‘I’m sorry, Finn.’ I held my hands out. ‘I wish things were different, that we could work this out just between us, but two faelings are dead because of the curse. I’ve got to find out what’s happening and stop it. It’s time I started talking to the rest of them.’ And why the hell I hadn’t done that before now was something else I needed to find out.
‘Hell’s thorns, Gen, they’ve been desperate to talk to you. The only reason they haven’t is because every time I asked you, you said you weren’t ready to deal with them yet.’
‘I did?’ I said, astonished. Damn, there was too much that I seemed not to be doing. Almost as if it wasn’t me in control …
‘You should’ve told me you’d changed your mind.’ Finn raked his fingers through his hair, his expression troubled. ‘We could’ve organised things, kept it all on a formal basis. But now you’re going to have every dryad in London turning up on your doorstep. And they’re going to want to do more than talk. Then there’s the naiads; they’re going to send their own candidates to court you once they hear. I’ll talk to the herd Elders, see if …’
His voice faded as suspicion dragged an elusive memory from a dark hole in my mind. There was something about a … spell around my wrist? Yeah, that was it. I pushed my jacket sleeves up and looked at my arms. The right was clear. The left was patterned with a blood-coloured band of rose-shaped bruises that encircled my wrist like a monochrome tattoo. The ‘tattoo’ marked me as Malik al-Khan’s ‘property’ and protected me from other vampires. As vamps go, Malik was a good guy … although my recent memories of him were a bit on the hazy side, which was never a good sign around vamps; it probably meant he’d been using his vamp mind-mojo to make me forget what I was only now remembering. But that was a problem for later. As for his mark, well it was a convenient thing to have—if I ignored the whole ‘he hadn’t asked, and I wasn’t any sucker’s damn property’ issue. I’d got so used to it that I never even noticed it now, but as I squinted at it sideways, I found what I was looking for: the spell, hidden beneath the rose-shaped bruises. As I focused, the spell grew brighter, twisting up my forearm like the stem of a briar rose, its multitude of tiny thorns pricking painlessly into my flesh and vanishing into my body.
A Sleeping Beauty spell.
Anger roiled in my gut. The damn spell was magical Valium, turned you into an emotional zombie. Now I knew why my life had been so uneventful since Grace’s funeral. I grimaced as the spell’s stem disappeared up my jacket sleeve, winding itself tightly around my elbow, the thorns puncturing my skin. Bandana’s salt-water emetic must have temporarily neut
ralised it, but now it was resetting itself.
‘Gen.’ Finn grasped my shoulders. ‘You’re not listening to me. This is serious.’
He was right. There were only two people who could’ve got close enough to me to have tagged me with the spell, and one of them was standing in front of me. The other was Tavish, the kelpie. If I was looking for a culprit, Tavish—that scheming, over-protective, arrogant, alluring, charming, centuries-old wylde fae who was also my sort-of ex—won hands down. But if I was looking for someone to be my ‘prince’ and ‘awaken’ me, then Finn could easily play the heroic stand-in. But getting that close to him meant the magic’s matchmaking got a chance to push my libido into overdrive.
Damn, whatever I did I was screwed (no pun intended), but at least with Finn and the magic I had a chance of being in control.
Decision made, I reached up and cupped Finn’s face. His skin was warm and firm under my touch and the magic rose from within me, leaping like golden wildfire between us. His eyes widened in surprise, their moss-green depths flickering emerald, and his hands tightened on my shoulders. I drew him down to me, waiting for him to tell me ‘no’. He didn’t. Our lips met in a soft kiss that slipped like molten gold into my centre, pooling heat at my core. Gods, he tasted as wonderful as I remembered, like sweet ripe berries. Lust wrapped in longing shivered through me, followed by misgivings that had nothing to do with the magic. I wanted this, wanted him—but I didn’t want him to think this changed things. Or that kissing him was nothing more than a means to an end.
I pulled back far enough that I could see his face. ‘Sorry,’ I murmured, dropping my hands. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’
‘Hey, don’t apologise,’ he said quietly. Then his mouth quirked and he added, ‘Not your fault I’m irresistible.’
Surprise winged through me.
He waggled his brows. ‘Sex god here, remember?’
I gaped at him, incredulous. ‘Are you flirting with me?’
‘Obviously not well enough,’ he said wryly, ‘if you have to ask.’
Some indefinable barrier I hadn’t even realised existed between us fell away and time seemed to roll back to when we first started working together, before everything got serious with vamps and sorcerers and curses, and when his outlook had been more about enjoying what life brought him. An ache closed my throat. I’d missed that Finn. Now it looked like I could have him back.
Lightness lifted my heart and a grin slowly spread across my face. ‘Irresistible?’ I snorted, poking him in the chest. ‘Ha! In your dreams.’
Mischief glinted in his eyes. ‘My dreams, my rules. So sex god works for me.’
I laughed. ‘Keep working, and maybe you’ll get somewhere in another century.’
He slapped a dramatic hand to his chest. ‘You do thus grievously impugn my reputation, fair lady. I demand satisfaction.’
‘No chance,’ I snorted. ‘You’re really on a losing streak’
He pulled a hopeful hang-dog face. ‘Well, I s’pose I could settle for us getting all smoochy again. I think I can fit you in’—he made a show of checking his watch, then grinned, teeth white against his tan—‘in about thirty seconds’ time. But it’s a one-time special offer, so take me while I’m hot.’
I rolled my eyes at him, then as I felt the spell’s thorns prick my shoulder, reality smacked me in the face. I sighed and held my arm up like a kid asking a question. ‘Is that offer good for a Sleeping Beauty spell?’
He stilled, his brows meeting in a frown as he took my arm and studied my wrist. A muscle jumped angrily in his jaw, then he blew out a breath and said almost to himself, ‘Well, that explains a lot, doesn’t it?’
‘Yep,’ I agreed. ‘And a certain kelpie is so not going to be a happy water-horse after this. I’m thinking gremlins in his precious computers … or maybe duck weed in his lake.’
‘Ouch.’ Finn winced. ‘Remind me never to upset you. Hey, but if you need help, then I’m in.’
I grinned. ‘Thanks.’
He let go of my wrist and smiled ruefully. ‘Guess this means I’m not that irresistible after all.’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ I tilted my head and smiled playfully. ‘You could always try and convince me. Maybe kill two birds with one kiss?’
A sharp gust of river-scented wind sliced between us and he reached out and carefully tucked a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. ‘Probably not a good idea, Gen. Tavish must’ve tagged you after the funeral. Those type of spells aren’t meant to last for more than a couple of weeks, to help you get over things, so it should’ve worn off by now, which means he’s added his own spin to the spell. If I defuse it instead of him, it could cause problems. Want me to try and pull it apart instead?’
Always the white knight. But much as I appreciated his concern, I couldn’t help regretting that reality had brought responsible, serious Finn back. ‘Thanks, but I’m not sure there’s time.’ I jerked my head over at the police still milling round the launch bobbing next to the dock. ‘There’s my trip to Old Scotland Yard. I have to give a statement, remember? I don’t want to delay it, and to be honest, I’d feel happier if the spell’s gone before then. That’s if you don’t mind …’
‘Mind? “Tempt not a desperate man”,’ he said softly, eyes bleak. Then a wicked light eclipsed the bleakness so quickly I thought I’d imagined it. ‘Though, talking about tempting’—a grin spread across his face—‘how about a bet? Dinner says the power of my kiss demolishes the spell inside a minute. If it takes longer, then it’s my treat.’
I narrowed my eyes. It was a bet he couldn’t lose. ‘Do you really expect me to fall for that?’
‘Yep,’ he said, much too happily. ‘Unless of course, I’m really not irresistible.’
Anticipation fluttered in my stomach and I struggled to contain my smile. ‘Go on then,’ I said, deliberately offhand as I stuck my chin out and puckered up. ‘Get it over with.’
All teasing left him as he reached out and clasped my face, mirroring my earlier movements, then bowed his head and rested his forehead against mine. The flutter brushed my heart, turning nervous—in a good way. ‘This one’s for the spell,’ he murmured, his breath warm across my cheeks. He dropped a light kiss on my mouth. My lips tingled, and a pulse of power slipped over my body, pebbling goosebumps on my skin. I felt the thorns pop out of my flesh and the briar stem wither and dissipate back into the ether.
‘Wow,’ I murmured, warring between being impressed and disappointed that the kiss was over so fast. ‘Looks like dinner’s on me then.’
He gave a quiet, satisfied laugh.
‘Now this one’—he tilted my face up, thumbs caressing my jaw, his eyes dark and solemn—‘is for you alone, Gen.’ He pressed his lips to mine, a quick hard kiss that filled me with his magic and stopped my heart for one glorious second, leaving me breathless, wanting and stunned.
Oh boy, now I really was screwed.
Chapter Eight
It’s always handy to know you’ve got a five-hundred-plus-year-old—and therefore very powerful—vamp on speed-dial, even if the realisation is one of those good news/bad news things.
The bad news was I’d been arrested.
Not for the kiss (even though the kiss was so worth being arrested for, and more)—although seeing it was DI Helen Crane who did the arresting, the kiss was definitely a contributing factor. But on the face of it, the charge was for Misappropriation of Police Property, the police property in question being the Stun spell I’d misappropriated from Constable Martin’s baton, the one I’d used to knock out Bandana. Talk about irony. Witch-bitch Helen Crane had all but pounced on me with barely hidden glee as soon as Finn and I turned up at Old Scotland Yard.
More bad news: I was locked up in a state-of-the-art silver-lined police cell. The twelve-foot-square room had no windows, a six-inch steel door, a CCTV camera high in each corner, icky plastic facilities, and the ultimate in sleeping luxury: a barely there foam mattress. The cell was designed for keeping vamps a
nd dangerous witches in line. Maybe I should be flattered she thought so much of me? Nah, she was just going for overkill again.
I shifted uncomfortably on the thin mattress and carefully tugged down the sleeves of the snazzy white paper jumpsuit provided by the Met’s fashion dept, adjusting them so that the silver-plated ‘slave-bracelets’ studded with chips of jade (Stun spells) and citrines (Magic Dampening spells) no longer touched my skin. I did the same with the jumpsuit’s legs—not that it would make much difference; every time I moved the heavy leg manacles slipped down again, so now I had a nice neat line of silver-burn blisters encircling both ankles.
Yet another helping of bad news: my phone call to Malik—or, to be precise, as it was daylight, my call to Sanguine Lifestyles, the vamps’ 24/7 answering/gofer service. The request to make the call had just popped out of my mouth without any conscious decision on my part. That meant Malik had not only used his vamp mojo on me but planted a mind-locked order in my head. No wonder my memories of him were so hazy.
‘Damn arrogant vamp,’ I muttered. I didn’t need to be ordered to call him if I needed help.
After all, I wasn’t stupid. If the Witch-bitch thought she could make a strong enough case out of my stealing the Stun spell to show I was a danger to humans, I could be taking a one-way trip to the guillotine. It was an extreme possibility, but thanks to fae not having ‘human rights’, it was still a possibility, and one she’d taken great pleasure in reminding me of during my arrest. Calling Malik, hell, calling anyone who could get me out of Clink was a no-brainer. Okay, so it might end up with me paying in blood, but considering the alternative, there really wasn’t any contest.
Still, irritation at high-handed vamps aside, at least the woman at Sanguine Lifestyles had been reassuring. ‘No problem, Ms Taylor. If you can give me the details, I will have a solicitor there within half an hour.’
It had sounded too good to be true.
Now, eight hours later, of course, I’d discovered it was.
The Bitter Seed of Magic s-3 Page 5
