The Sweet Scent of Blood s-1

by Suzanne McLeod

  Of course, the sucker did it! I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I needed to get to the Shamrock, and for that I needed Finn to leave. Think ... Then something he’d said struck me. ‘Were the parts found with the bodies, the heads, the hearts and the other bits?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘No, of course they weren’t,’ I murmured, half to myself. ‘You said human males. If they’d found the heads, they’d have known they weren’t human.’

  ‘They weren’t human?’ He gave me a quizzical look.

  ‘No, not when they died.’ I glanced at the clock to check the time; daylight would disappear too fast for my liking

  ‘So the question is,’ Finn crossed his arms, ‘why is your sucker friend trying to frame you?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue, but I’m not going to find out by staying here, am I?’ I moved round him, needing to get my boots. ‘C’mon, Finn, discussion time’s over for now. I told you I’ve got something to do.’

  ‘Not yet, Gen. We haven’t finished talking.’

  My insides felt like they were going to explode, and I almost kicked my bedroom door with frustration. I settled for glaring over my shoulder instead. ‘Yes. We. Have.’

  ‘Gen, you keep evading me and changing the subject, or rushing off somewhere.’ A muscle clenched in his jaw. ‘But we need to talk about all this stuff with the vamps, that spell-tattoo you’ve got, the murders, whatever it was that happened at the police station. I don’t know what’s going on, but we’re going to sort all this out. Now!’

  So not a conversation I wanted to have—my heart just wasn’t in it—even though I’d guessed it was going to be inevitable sooner or later. And with only a few hours of daylight left, later was the option I was going for. I sighed and swiped my hands over my face, then gave him a resigned look. ‘Just give me a couple of minutes to finish dressing, okay?’

  ‘Go ahead,’ he said, calmly moving to stand under my long beaded light, arms crossed, legs apart, like he was on guard duty or something. ‘I’ll wait right here.’

  I shut the door carefully, resisting the urge to slam it, and leaned my head against it. Why did Finn always bring out the worst in me? Never mind my emotions felt like they were on a rollercoaster ride. Why couldn’t I just have my nice quiet life back where all I had to deal with was a pack of persistent pixies? And now Finn looked like he thought I was going to make a run for it or something. Still, he’d got that right: I was. I tugged my boots on, slipped some money in my pocket and took a couple of quiet steps to the open window.

  Finn’s talk would have to wait until later.

  My visit to Mick couldn’t.

  I bent and swung my leg over the low windowsill leading out onto the flat roof. My boot snagged on something not there. Breath catching, I jerked my leg back and felt a strange, sticky resistance, almost like I’d stepped into a large glob of chewing gum. I looked. The spell even looked like chewing gum, stretching out in long elastic strands from the window frame, wrapping around my boot and creeping up my calf. Crap, what the hell was Finn playing at?

  ‘Finn,’ I yelled, furious, ‘get in here—now!’

  The door slammed back and he burst into the room, then he stopped and stared at me in disbelief. Then a smile twitched his lips. ‘Having a bit of trouble, my Lady?’

  ‘Nice try, Finn,’ I smirked, ‘but I think you forgot something. Watch this!’ I held up my hand and called the spell...

  ‘Gen, that’s really not such a—’

  ... the sticky spell splattered into my hand, digging into my skin, then snapped back towards the window. It jerked me off-balance and dumped me in a heap on the floor; the chewing gum contracting in on itself and trapping me even tighter.

  ‘—good idea,’ he finished, wincing. ‘It’s a snapper-snare. The more you stretch or tease, or try and crack the magic, the worse it gets. We—that is, me and my brothers spent years perfecting it when we were kids.’ He finished with a touch of sheepish pride.

  ‘I don’t care how long it took to make it,’ I spat, ‘just get it off me. What the hell is it doing there anyway?’

  ‘I put it there earlier.’ he held his hands up in apology.

  ‘Don’t worry, it wasn’t to catch you, Gen.’ He gave me a quick grin, then knelt and took a dried-up conker-shell out of his pocket. ‘When I recovered, I came round to check on you.’ He plunged his hands into the sticky spell and started rolling the spiky conker-shell carefully between his palms. ‘I got here just as the sucker was going. I couldn’t stay, and I didn’t want to leave you without any protection, just in case he decided to come back, so I set the snapper-snare.’

  I huffed, watching as he coaxed the magic off me—sticky spell-traps on my window was taking this whole shining-knight thing too far. ‘A standard back-off ward would’ve been easier.’

  He grimaced. ‘A ward wouldn’t have held the sucker until the sun came up.’

  My mouth fell open. ‘The sun would’ve fried him!’

  He looked at me and smiled, determination in his eyes. ‘Of course.’ Then he leaned forward and pulled the last strand of magic off my boot.

  I stared at him, speechless. Somehow I’d never imagined Finn thinking like that, never mind actually doing it. Or even why he would deliberately set a trap to kill a vampire. It didn’t fit with what I thought I knew about him.

  Sitting back on his heels, he said cheerfully, ‘Did you want to try the front door next, or can we have a sensible talk like adults?’

  I shoved a hand through my hair in resignation. ‘Fine, I admit it, going out the window was a bit childish.’ I shuffled back and leant against the wall. ‘But there really is somewhere I need to be, Finn, so can we make it quick, okay?’

  ‘Let’s start with this.’ He waved, taking in both the window and me. ‘When did you start inviting suckers over for a bloodfest? ’

  ‘Please don’t tell me this is all because you’re jealous.’

  ‘Jealousy has got nothing to do with it. This is about business. ’

  ‘I take it this is my new boss I’m supposed to listen to?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I drew my knees up and hugged them. ‘And if I don’t want to,’ I said quietly, ‘does that mean I’m out of a job?’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  Damn.

  ‘Gen, don’t be naïve. You work for a witch company. These are vampires we’re talking about. Keep going like this and it won’t be long before the Witches’ Council make you persona non grata.’

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to work out what would be the fastest way to end this. ‘Finn, you’ve heard what happened at the police station,’ I said, keeping my voice calm. ‘So no doubt the Council know all about it by now too—the new Detective Inspector there is a witch, so she’s probably told them.’ And with added glee, seeing as she really didn’t like me, but I kept that bit to myself. ‘So you see, it’s not like what’s going on is a secret.’

  Finn groaned. ‘You see, that’s where you’re wrong. Up until now it has been: the Council don’t know a thing. Friday night at the police station, Helen had permission to use a spell to keep everything under wraps, and after that fiasco with the goblin, the vampires were more than happy to agree.’

  So that explained why the goblin’s death hadn’t made the news, and why Old Scotland Yard had been hack-free. It didn’t explain why Finn was calling Detective Inspector Crane by her first name, as if they were old friends, or how he knew so much. And there was something else wrong with what Finn was saying, something about it all being kept under wraps—

  Finn leaned over and took my hand in his and I looked at him, surprised. ‘Gen, forget that for now.’ An odd sadness settled on his face. ‘Look, there’s no other way to say this, but I know you’re suffering from salaich sìol.’

  I froze, a tight band constricting my heart. He knew I’d got 3V—salaich sìol, as the older fae name it ... I closed my eyes, pulling my hand away from his and dropping my head to my knees. I didn’t wa
nt to look at him. I didn’t want him to see me. He kept on talking; his words washing over me like a gentle river, then fading away as a dark stream of pain and memory rushed into my mind.

  ‘I shall not allow her to enter sanctuary, troll.’ Soft sibilant sounds echoed in her voice as a rough palm touched my forehead. ‘The salaich sìol in her blood iss deeply embedded; it hass been there too long.’

  ‘But she’s fae, and just a child.’ Hugh’s words rumbled through me as I lay half-conscious in his arms. ‘The human tried to gut her like a fish; surely you won’t refuse her aid for her injuries. Does your vow not—?’

  ‘She iss ...’ for a moment doubt resonated in her voice, then she carried on firmly, ‘she may be sidhe, troll. But she doess not belong here in sanctuary, not with the vampiress’ blood-taint in her. There are the lesser fae to be considered; it would be too dangerouss—’

  The rest of her words were lost as the pain rolled over me and I slipped back into the darkness.

  ‘... just because the suckers can’t trick you or mind-lock you,’ Finn’s quiet concern started to penetrate my mind, ‘that doesn’t mean you can pick and choose amongst them. I’ve seen before how venom addiction affects the fae.’

  I tried to swallow past the ache in my throat. It didn’t matter what he was saying; all that mattered was that he knew. The rest was pointless. It was over, everything was finished.

  ‘Gen, it affects your magic too.’ He stroked a gentle hand over my hair. ‘Think about it, you can’t do a simple casting, even though you can absorb spells that would knock out a fae five times your age. And then there’s your Glamour. Some days it’s as though there’s no magic left in you, and others you almost take me under. It’s been hard to resist this last couple of months.’

  Briefly the scent of warm berries curled around me and I took a deeper breath, trying to anchor it in my memory, but then it was gone.

  ‘I know you noticed it yourself,’ his voice was still quiet, but he was speaking faster, sounding anxious, worried. ‘Every time we got close my magic responded to yours. It was confusing, until I realised you weren’t consciously using your Glamour to entice—’

  A loud bang on my front door interrupted him.

  ‘Hell’s thorns, I forgot—’ He jumped up. ‘I phoned the Rosy Lee while you were getting dressed.’

  My mind was numb, empty. I stayed where I was, my head resting on my knees, not even trying to work out what to do, not caring. Out in my lounge, voices rose and fell, but the words made no sense. The breeze brought the scents of lavender and lemon balm through the window behind me. They eddied around my shoulders with a consoling touch and a tendril of soft multi-coloured light unfurled inside me. The brownie’s magic bloomed into gentle, comforting warmth that soothed and slowly eased away the darkness in my mind.

  I sighed and lifted my head, rubbing away the dampness in my eyes, my conscience pricking at me. Never mind anything else; there was still something I needed to finish. I looked at my alarm clock. And I needed to do it soon.

  The bedroom door opened and I looked up as Finn stood there, a serious expression on his face.

  Next to him stood Detective Inspector Helen Crane. Hugh loomed behind them.

  The police had come to call.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Detective Inspector Crane stood in front of my window. The afternoon sun cut through behind her, slicing to either side of her black-suited-figure, making it impossible to decipher her expression. Somehow I didn’t think she’d stood there by chance.

  ‘Ms Taylor,’ she began, her voice almost without inflection, ‘can you tell me your whereabouts at eleven-thirty p.m. last night?’

  The question was expected—no way had I thought this a social visit—but if she was here about the headless bodies, the time was all wrong. I took a moment to think exactly where I’d been, and how much trouble the truth might cause me, but I was my father’s daughter, and I was sidhe. Neither gave me the option of straight-out lying.

  Finn sprang up to sit on my kitchen counter, the movement catching my eye. A half-smile wreathed his mouth, as though he were completely unconcerned, but under his shirt the muscles across his shoulders and neck were tight with tension. It didn’t take much to realise the strained atmosphere had more to do with the relationship between Finn and Detective Inspector Helen Crane—whatever that was—and the fact she’d found Finn here with me than any official police business.

  I frowned at the inspector. ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘Just answer the question, Genny,’ Hugh rumbled. I looked over at him. He had folded himself down to sit Indian-style on my rug—I appreciated his attempt to look less imposing—but when you’re a seven-foot-tall troll, not even sitting can manage that. His notepad was carefully balanced on his knee and he gripped one of his over-large pens between his fingers.

  If I was going to have this many visitors maybe I ought to think about getting some furniture—nah, it probably wasn’t worth it. I didn’t want to send out the wrong impression. I was getting enough unwanted guests as it was.

  A smothered cough drew my attention to the other uninvited occupant of my lounge: the ever-charming Constable Curly-hair stood to attention by my front door, her eyes flicking between me and Hugh, a happy little smirk wreathing her plump face. She looked to be the only person here enjoying herself.

  ‘Ms Taylor?’ The inspector clasped her hands and her rings chinked as if advertising her impatience.

  Shrugging, I stuck my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. ‘At half-past-eleven I was in a black hackney cab. I’ve no idea what his licence number was, but his CCTV was running, I remember seeing the red light blinking.’ I rocked back on my heels. ‘’Course, if I’d known you were interested, I’d have made a note of it.’

  Hugh rumbled a warning at my tone, and wrote something down.

  ‘Where were you going?’

  I sighed. She had to know the answer to that one. ‘I had an appointment with my client, Alan Hinkley. He’d arranged for me to see Melissa Bank’s body, with you.’

  Her lips thinned. ‘Only you never arrived at the police station. Why was that, Ms Taylor?’

  Let me think. Oh yeah, I ran into a bit of trouble.

  A trickle of sweat ran down my back, but I kept my voice level. ‘Hinkley didn’t turn up for our meeting.’

  ‘Did you not think that strange? Or maybe consider telephoning him to find out why?’

  ‘I would have, but I’d left my phone somewhere, and I didn’t know his number.’ And don’t worry, I added silently, he’s on my to-do list—he and whoever it was sent the revenants in his place. ‘I’d been planning to contact him today.’

  ‘That won’t be possible,’ she said. ‘Alan Hinkley was attacked last night.’

  Shock jolted through me and I crossed my arms over the sudden cold feeling in my stomach. ‘Is he all right? What happened? ’

  ‘Mr Hinkley is in a coma.’ She twisted the large diamond ring on her finger. ‘His solicitor and a goblin guard were attacked at the same time. The solicitor is in intensive care and the goblin is dead.’

  So that’s where the revenants had got the bat. Alan must have been first on their list. Someone was obviously serious about stopping me from seeing Melissa’s body, but if it was Declan—who still looked like the only candidate—Alan being attacked made even less sense.

  ‘Genny,’ Hugh broke into my thoughts, ‘we need to know the details of the taxi journey to confirm your statement.’

  I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘You mean so you can rule me out as a suspect.’

  ‘That’s not what I said, Genny.’ Hugh’s brow ridges lowered over his eyes. ‘But it would be better if the facts were verified.’

  ‘Fine,’ I huffed. ‘I picked up the taxi from the rank at Leicester Square.’ I watched Hugh as I spoke. He didn’t even flinch, so they already knew I’d been to the Blue Heart. ‘The taxi dropped me off under the Hungerford Bridge, on the Victoria Embankment side, at
five minutes to midnight. The journey took around thirty minutes, because of the traffic.’

  ‘Then what did you do?’ The inspector’s tone was brisk.

  ‘I waited for Alan Hinkley.’

  ‘And then what?

  I shrugged. ‘He didn’t turn up, so I came home.’

  ‘What time was that?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I didn’t check my watch.’

  ‘You must have some idea of the time, Ms Taylor.’

  I frowned. Maybe she was here about the revenants after all. Except, what with the fighting and the whole passing out thing, and then Malik, I really hadn’t a clue what time I’d got home.

  ‘Perhaps if I can butt in—?’ Finn’s voice sounded lower than normal.

  I shot a glance at him and my pulse quickened. He leant forward, his arms braced on the counter on either side of him, the angles of his face seemed sharper, the moss-green of his eyes more arrogant, his horns taller. He was still Finn. Still gorgeous. Only now he had a harsh wild beauty that made him seem remote, less human than before. My breath caught in my throat as desire echoed faintly through me.

  A small clinking noise dragged my attention away from him to the inspector. She was staring at him, her hand clutching the sapphire pendant at her neck.

  Constable Curly-hair wasn’t so circumspect. She looked as interested as a hungry vampire scenting blood.

  Then it clicked. I looked. There was nothing to see, but whatever Finn was doing, it was deliberate, and I realised I’d felt it before—it was his own magic. Even if the inspector didn’t catch on, it was so not a good idea with Hugh around. And judging by the red dust that was settling on Hugh’s white shirt, he knew exactly what Finn was up to, although, oddly, he just continued to stare at his notepad.

  ‘I came round to see Gen here last night.’ Finn’s voice tugged at something deep inside me. ‘I was late and she’d already gone. I tried to catch up with her at Leicester Square, but missed her again, but I saw her get into the taxi. I knew she was meeting Hinkley at midnight, so I headed for the Embankment. After Hinkley didn’t turn up, I made sure she got home’—a smile flitted across his face—‘and I left not long after.’