Screw Lord Corrigan. Which was actually probably what she wanted. I tried to smile at her again. “I have to go now.”
“Okay then,” she answered dreamily, no doubt imagining herself and Corrigan walking hand in hand down a deserted beach. I almost snarled again.
Julia was hovering around in the hall, looking over at me anxiously, so I flashed her a brilliant smile of fake reassurance before striding up to the dorms to change the dressing on my wound and get my backpack. Forget about Corrigan, I had clues to investigate and places to go and it was too late to change the fact that I’d stupidly snapped at him.
Once outside, I took a deep breath and filled my lungs. I figured I had a couple of hours before the rest of the interviews would be over. Plenty of time to see what I could find about tree markings and to look for black diamond stones. I’d bound my side and my ribs tightly with bandages and taken a few more painkillers so I was pretty sure that I’d be able to conduct my investigations without the pain getting to me. I briefly considered finding Tom and asking him to come with me – and quizzing to find out how his interview had gone - but I didn’t want to lose any valuable time and I was pretty certain that he wouldn’t take kindly to me patently hoping he screwed it up, so I shifted the backpack on my shoulder instead and walked out towards the beach and the scene of John’s death.
Despite my own ministrations, I didn’t want to risk delaying the healing process by opening the gashes up on my side further, so I refrained from jogging and instead walked casually away from the keep. At least if anyone spotted me I could use the excuse that I was just out for a casual afternoon stroll to clear my head.
The path was lightened by sunbeams, in stark and bitter contrast to when I’d taken this route last time. A few birds chirped here and there. I noted my own tracks from the previous night, as well as a few others that were heavier and no doubt belonged to the Brethren. And John had said that I was like an elephant…I guess that’s what living in the cement covered city did to your ability to tread lightly and leave little trace behind of your presence.
Scuffing over some of the more irritating trail marks as I went, I mulled over my interview with Corrigan, eventually deciding that he was just trying to get under my skin. If he’d really smelled anything human about me then he’d have squashed me like a bug without thinking twice about it. He had definitely just been fishing around. He probably tried to get a rise out of everyone he interviewed. I ignored the memory of the almost worshipful expression Johannes had had on his face after his interview. Anyway, Corrigan didn’t matter – finding John’s murderer did.
When I started to get closer to where John had died, I stopped focusing on the ground and started checking out the trees instead. I couldn’t see anything yet that suggested the markings that Corrigan and Staines had been talking about it. I felt tendrils of dread curl around the pit of my stomach with each step that I took. I really didn’t want to go there again. I wondered how much the pack had managed to clean up. Would there still be traces of his life blood there? Where it had seeped into the earth, taking the only real parent I’d ever known? I clenched my fists, nails curling into the palms of my hands. I couldn’t let my grief escape back out. I needed to be strong and steely if I was going to avenge his death.
I still couldn’t see anything on any of the trees. I circled a few of them, double checking, but there was nothing. What was I missing? By the time I reached the sandy spot where John had actually died, I felt myself flooded with frustration. Somehow the Brethren were seeing something I couldn’t. I walked slowly up to the spot where his body had lain. There were a few indentations on the grass and in the sand but the blood was gone. I knelt down for a second and softly touched the ground.
“I miss you, John,” I whispered softly. My words were whipped away by the wind. I blinked back a few tears and stood back up to look at the tree line behind me. That was when I noticed that the trees did indeed have markings on them. In a semi circle, facing the spot where he’d died, were one, two, three….seven trees together that had what looked like runes scoured into their bark. I felt some grim satisfaction at finding what I’d been looking for and strode over to the first one.
It was gouged deep into the flesh of the tree. Lifting my hand, I traced the outline of the rune, trying to work out what it was. These weren’t Fae runes: there was something sharper and much more sinister about them than the rune that I’d discovered on John’s paperweight. I pulled out my smartphone and snapped a photo of it. I still hadn’t made it to the library or to check the Othernet to dig up information on wichtleins. Now I had another reason to make sure that I did. I went round each tree, taking a photo of each rune as I went. That there were seven runes on seven trees definitely meant something. Seven was a magical number that contained a lot of power within it.
I moved to the beach so I could stand on the dune and get a picture of all of them together. It was a struggle getting the top of the sand with my injuries but I tensed my muscles and held my side and made it. I was about to take a photo again when something half-buried by the sand caught my eye. I crouched down and brushed away the sand. It was a ring of seven charred coals. All of a sudden several pieces started to click together and I hit the back of my hand against my forehead in exasperation. Of course. I cursed myself for being an idiot. Black diamond stones could easily refer to coal, and Nick had mentioned that someone had stolen a bag of coals from Perkins. And an electric screwdriver. I wondered for a minute whether the tree runes could have been made by a tool like that before realising that was ridiculous.
But at least now I knew where I had to go to next.
Chapter Nine
At this time of day, I knew I could expect to find Nick at the police station, probably filling out paperwork from that day’s dealings with the crime underworld of Trevathorn. However, it was past five and I also knew that Perkins would be closing soon. I debated whether to visit the hardware store, or Nick, first. Remembering the glint in Nick’s eyes when I saw him last, I decided that I would try the store first. Then I might be able to avoid talking to him altogether.
The village was busy at this time of day, with both locals and tourists bustling around. Most of them gave me a wide berth when they saw me striding towards them though. I guess my expression contained enough thunderous determination that they figured it was better to just get out of my way. It suited me fine. Tourists were irksome at the best of times, and I was not exactly in the mood for small talk with any of Trevathorn’s inhabitants. My bloodfire was glowing in the pit of my stomach as I was forced to consider the idea that John had been deliberately targeted. Perhaps the wichtlein pebble wasn’t so much a harbinger as a marker beacon, pointing him out to whichever big bad nasty had decided to chomp on him as a snack. The heat curled savagely around my lower intestines, threatening to take over at a moment’s notice. I ignored it. This was a time to focus, as John would have said.
By the time I reached Perkins, it was almost half past five and I could see the eponymous owner, Perkins himself, up at the glass door and flipping the little yellow sign from Open to Closed. Good. That meant I’d have peace and quiet to quiz him. I stepped up to the glass plate and rapped sharply. He gestured at the sign and his watch, shrugging expressively. I ignored this and rapped again.
He opened the door a couple of inches and poked his head out. “We’re shut.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“And I need to go home and see my wife and kids.” He tried shutting the door but I stuck my foot in the way.
“Please, Mr Perkins. It’s important.”
He sighed and appeared to consider the matter. It was not as if I was really going to give him the choice though. “Fine. But only for five minutes.” He opened the door and let me in, then locked it behind me.
Perkins stood in the entrance, hand on his hips, and waggled his eyebrows questioningly. He was a small man, human of course, with a bald patch and slightly greying hair. He wore a red apron that procl
aimed the words ‘We’re proud to work at Perkins!’
I opened my palms out, in a gesture of non-confrontation. “Can we sit down? I’d like to ask you a few questions about the robbery a few days ago.”
He sighed expansively. “Why? Has the cult decided to become vigilantes now?”
At least he wasn’t accusing us of breaking and entering. “No, but I think there might have been other similar break-ins in the area and I want to help out.” I put on a pretty smile. “Please, Mr Perkins? I really do want to help.”
He looked at me assessingly but I could see that he’d already given in. “It’s probably more than the police are going to do, I suppose,” he grumbled. “Here, come this way.”
He took me into a little backroom where there was a small table and a couple of chairs. Along one side of the wall there was a sink, a little fridge and a kettle. “I suppose you’ll be wanting tea, too?”
“How about coffee?” I asked, pushing my luck.
“Fine,” he muttered, and set about getting two cups, flicking the switch on the kettle to on. Before too long, it was spitting steam so he poured the hot water onto a scoop of instant granules. I was a bit of a coffee purist and usually hated instant but I didn’t think any further comments regarding his choice of brew would be useful at this point. I declined milk and sugar and he passed me the cup, sitting down at the table with me.
“So what exactly is it you want to know?”
I asked him how they got in.
“Broke the glass at the back.” He pointed to a boarded up window behind me. “Figured it must have been kids ‘cos it’s so small.”
I nodded briefly, thinking that it could have been any thing of any size that could shift its shape to suit itself.
“Was anything other than the coal and the screwdriver taken?”
“Nothing,” he answered. “Darn’dest thing as well, considering the till was right there. I’d not bothered emptying it that day because there wasn’t much money in there, other than the float and a few odds and ends, but they didn’t even try to open it.” He shrugged and took a sip.
I mulled that over. “Were there any traces of anything else? Anything at all?”
He took his time answering. “Only the slime.”
“The slime?” My life would have been a lot easier if Nick had mentioned slime when I’d talked to him before.
“Aye, smelly dark stuff. It was smeared along the shelf where the coals had been. There were a few drops of it on the floor too.”
“I don’t suppose you kept any of it?” I asked hopefully.
He looked at me like I was crazy. I supposed I probably was. “No,” he answered slowly. “That police bloke, Nick whatsisface Jones, took some. Said he’d send it away for testing or something. I don’t expect he really will, though.”
Perkins’ faith in the ineptitude of the police force was clearly unshakeable.
“He took the CCTV video as well.”
I sat up. CCTV? That was interesting. And helpful. Although it did mean I’d now have to go and see Nick after all. I gulped down the rest of my coffee. “Mr Perkins, thank you so much for your time.” I stuck out my hand and he took it.
“You’re welcome. You culty people might be odd but at least you’re polite.”
I smiled at him slightly. “If I find out anything, I’ll let you know.”
“It’s hardly even worth me filing the insurance claim, girl, so I don’t really know why you’re bothering.”
“It’s the principle of the matter, Mr Perkins. We cannot allow incidents of this nature to take root in Trevathorn. It’s a slippery slope, this kind of thing you know.” God help me, now I was starting to sound like Julia. It worked though, because he grinned warmly at me before showing me out the front door and locking it firmly behind me again.
It was barely a hop, skip and a jump to the police station so I wandered over without any further delay. I could handle one horny copper. Once, inside I asked the duty sergeant to let me through to speak to Nick. He wasn’t overly thrilled about it but called him up on the intercom to check first and then buzzed me through.
“Mack!” Nick stretched out his arms to greet me. “To what do I owe this wonderful pleasure?”
“I need a favour, Nick.”
He shot me a sly smile. “For you, anything.”
I gritted my teeth. “I’d like to see the CCTV you took from Perkins, and any report you managed to get from the lab about the slime.”
His smile disappeared. “What do you want that for?”
“Trying to keep the streets of Trevathorn safe, Nick.” I commented lightly.
He looked me for a long time, trying to judge how serious I was being. Eventually he spoke up. “I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, you know.”
I nodded, serious, but hopeful.
“The slime is still with the lab. How did you know about that anyway?”
I just shrugged and smiled demurely.
“Fine, whatever, don’t tell me. And if the sarge finds out I showed you the CCTV, I could lose my job.”
“Nick, I…”
He interrupted me. “Now, hold on. I didn’t say no yet, did I? I’ll show you it if you do something for me first.”
“What do you want?”
“Have dinner with me. Tonight.” There was a gleam in his eyes that slightly unnerved me.
“Nick, I’m sorry, but I’m just so busy at the moment…” I tried batting my eyelashes as Betsy had done at Corrigan at lunch although I had the distinct feeling that I looked like a fly had just flown into my eyeball instead.
“That’s my price,” he answered, and looked at me hopefully.
Fuck it. “Fine. I’ll have dinner with you. But not tonight – can we make it next week, instead?”
“Okay, dinner next week but a drink in the Bull tonight after we’re done,” he countered.
I knew I wasn’t going to win this one. “Okay. You’re on.”
“Come with me, then.”
I followed him down the corridor into a small room that was already set up with an ancient TV monitor and DVD player. He gestured to a chair and I sat down. He sat next to me, stretching an arm behind the back of my chair, and clicked on the remote. The screen flickered to life and I could see the shop front of Perkins, the camera angled down to cover most of the shelves and the till.
“Around 2.30am, this happened,” said Nick in a slightly bored voice.
A huge shadow loomed over the shop floor. It seemed to twist one way, then another. All of a sudden, the picture flicked to white snow.
“What? Bring it back!”
“That’s all there is,” he said with smug look on the face.
“You tricked me!” I thumped him on his arm.
“I did nothing of the sort. You asked to see the CCTV footage and I showed you the CCTV footage.” He grinned at me.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered.
He looked down at his watch. “And would you look at that? It appears my shift is over, and you owe me a drink.”
I rolled my eyes at him, irritated. “Fine, let’s go.”
“Ever the gracious lady, Mack.” He took me by the arm. I grimaced, but let him lead me back down the corridor. He shrugged on a coat, said goodbye to the duty sergeant and we left.
The only other person in the Hanging Bull when we arrived was the barman. I ordered a beer as I was definitely going to need something alcoholic to avoid strangling Nick for making me do this. He pulled me over to a small table along the wall. “We can go into Penzance for our meal next week, if you like,” he murmured.
“I’m sure that Trevathorn will do. We can go to the local café.” I retorted.
“Trevathorn works for me,” he said with a smile. “But the café food makes me ill so we’ll have to go to my place. I’ll cook.” He winked at me. Oh good God.
I was about to answer him when a shadow fell across the table. I looked up and my heart suddenly sank into the pit of my stomach. It was Corr
igan. He’d changed since earlier and was now wearing a dark turtleneck and a pair of jeans that stretched snugly over his thighs. I swallowed.
“Well, well, well,” he said. “You’re just breaking hearts everywhere you go, aren’t you?”
Nick scowled at him and looked at me. “Who’s this, Mack?”
“I’m her employer,” said Corrigan, pulling up a stool and sitting down. The stool was too small for his body and he looked faintly ridiculous. I was still scared though.
“Where’s John?” asked Nick.
“He’s gone away on business,” Corrigan said, keeping his eyes trained on me with a terrifying focus. “So, Mackenzie, does Tom know that you are out here meeting another man?”
Nick jerked. “Tom? Mack, you said that you and he had nothing going on.”
I looked between the two of them. Hiding the truth from the Brethren alpha was definitely the preferable option. I sighed, hating myself a lot - and Corrigan more. “I’m sorry, Nick. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
He jumped back. “And dinner next week? Were you going to come along and continue to lie to me?”
“Nick, I’m sorry, I…”
“Fuck off.” He stood up, kicking his chair behind him, and walked out. The barman, polishing a glass a few feet away, raised an eyebrow at me. Corrigan stared stonily at him and he immediately coughed and muttered something about fetching a fresh keg from the back room, before darting away faster than I would have thought possible for a man of his size.
I looked at Corrigan, annoyed. He looked amused. “Playing around with a human behind a shifter’s back, eh kitten? You’re dangerous to know.”
The fire inside me rose. “You idiot - he’s the local policeman. I was trying to find out what he knew about John.”
“And why would he know anything about John? He’s just a human.”
My reply died in my throat. Just a human. I looked at Corrigan, mute.
He laughed, oblivious. “I’ll have to think of something that you would want from me so that I can get you to come round to my place for dinner too.” There was a suggestive gleam in his eyes.
Bloodfire (Blood Destiny) Page 10
