‘Yeah, well. Not many of them ask beforehand.’ He hesitated, then pulled out a couple of white silicone wristbands from a large goldfish bowl behind him and tossed them on the form. They glowed under the UV light.
I slipped them on and pulled the form towards me. The details were already filled in; all it needed was the date and my signature. I looked up in surprise.
‘Yesterday was your day to visit.’ Gareth gave me a pen. ‘When you didn’t turn up at lunchtime today, I guessed you’d be in to see your boy tonight. And I was bored. It’s dead round here just now.’
‘Ha, ha,’ I muttered, then read down the form. A name next to one section snagged my attention—
Malik al-Khan.
‘Owner?’ I jabbed the pen in annoyance. ‘That is so wrong.’
‘It can’t be.’ Gareth frowned. ‘I got it off the blood-families’ database. It’s where I got all your personal info, and it lists Malik al-Khan as your owner.’
Ri-ight, a database: well, that clarified everything . . . and nothing. ‘It’s not the database that’s wrong, it’s the concept,’ I explained through gritted teeth, although going by Gareth’s ‘uh-huh’ look, it wasn’t a concept that bothered him. ‘And how the hell did my details get on the database in the first place?’
‘Someone put them there,’ he said, deadpan.
Yeah, obvious or what? But who? Somehow updating a database didn’t seem like Malik’s sort of thing. Then the hairs on the back of my neck rose as I realised the form was filled out in my birth name: Genevieve Nataliya Zakharinova. I gripped the pen, knuckles going white, shocked at seeing it there.
Damn. This visit was a nightmare waiting to happen.
I scratched a signature on the form and shoved it back at Gareth. ‘Right, you’ve got your signature for the camera. Now can I go in?’
‘Minnie Mouse?’ he spluttered. ‘You can’t put that—’
‘You filled the wrong name out on the form, Gareth, so I can put anything I want—’
A dog growled.
We both turned; one of the dogs from the entrance had moved and now sat not far from the booth. It stared up at us from its disturbing eyes, lips drawn back to display impressive canines, a pair of diamond-encrusted dog-tags swinging on a choke chain round its neck.
‘That is a dog, isn’t it?’ I asked, suspicion flaring as I looked. A round dish on the counter filled with what looked like water glittered with magic, but the dog still looked like a dog, and I still didn’t get any vibes suggesting it might be something – or someone – else.
‘’Course he’s a dog! Those rumours about them being vamps ain’t true, y’know, they’re just put around to keep the crazies away.’ A puzzled expression crossed Gareth’s face as he scanned the entrance behind me. ‘Dunno what he’s growl-in’ at though, ain’t nothing there.’ He waved the dog away. ‘Go on, Max, back to the door.’ The dog didn’t move. Gareth shrugged and turned back to me. ‘Anyway, Ms Mouse, your membership still needs to be sealed for the cameras, then you can go in.’ He knocked on the counter top three times. When nothing happened, he sighed and disappeared beneath it, emerging after a few moments holding a tiny Monitor goblin. He wasn’t much more than twelve inches high even with the tuft of silver-white hair. The goblin’s head lolled as Gareth sat him on the counter between us. His navy-blue workman’s boilersuit swamped his tiny frame and made him look like a grey, wrinkled doll dressed in toddler’s play clothes. Tiny diamond earrings sparkled in his rabbit-like ears.
‘Abraham, new member needs checking out,’ Gareth said quietly, then gestured at me. ‘Give him your hand so he can do his stuff.’
Goblins, like trolls, are impervious to magic, but unlike trolls, goblins are the ultimate magic detectors; they can spot a vamp mind-lock at twenty paces, and they can sense if someone’s under the influence of a vamp’s mesma with just a brief touch. They’re also the ultimate ‘letter of the law’ followers: once a goblin’s agreed to a job and been paid, nothing can corrupt them, which is the main reason goblins are so popular with humans who do business with the vamps. And it’s why the Monitors act as gatekeepers for the vamp clubs: the law states vamps can’t use mesma or magical persuasions to force humans to enter any premises licensed for vampiric activities. Being checked out by a Monitor goblin makes the punters feel safe. Of course, there are other ways of persuading people that have nothing to do with mesma or magic, which is something the law doesn’t account for.
I ran my finger down my nose in the respectful goblin greeting, then held my hand out, palm up. The goblin adjusted his miniature black wraparounds with the precise movements of someone utterly drunk and trying to hide it, then returned my greeting. ‘St’early?’ he queried to Gareth.
‘Abraham, it’s not too early, and she ain’t human. The vamps can’t mind-lock sidhes, so it’s just for the cameras anyway.’
‘S’okays . . .’ He belched, his chin falling to his chest, and a sour reek filled the air.
I jerked my hand away, incredulous. ‘Are you mad? Don’t you know how risky it is having a goblin milked up on methane above ground during the day? What if he gets hit by sunlight?’
‘Hey, no worries!’ Gareth beckoned me to put my hand back. ‘Abes ain’t gonna explode or nothing: the windows’re all specially coated for the vamps. What works for them works for the gobs too.’ He gently prodded the goblin, then wrapped the goblin’s knobbly fingers round a small wooden seal stick. ‘C’mon, Abes, do your stuff.’
‘Handmiss,’ Abraham slurred.
Frowning, I offered it again and Abraham dipped a finger in the water-dish, reached out and brushed my palm with a butterfly’s touch, so light and quick that I almost didn’t feel his sharp claw slice my skin. He pressed the seal into my blood, then leaned drunkenly forwards and stamped the form next to my/Minnie’s signature.
I stood looking at the neat diamond design he’d cut into my palm, stunned and amazed at how fast he’d been, and at what he’d actually done. ‘Okay,’ I said slowly, ‘since when did you start using blood along with magic to seal the forms?’
‘One of the vamps thought it’d be a good gimmick, and the members love it,’ Gareth said, picking Abraham up and strapping him into a child’s high chair next to his own seat. He held up his own hand; a similar diamond shape glowed blue-white on his palm. ‘Invisible ink’s made from tonic water, the UV lights make it glow, and a spell tags it in place. It’s like getting your hand stamped with that indelible ink the other clubs use, only some members don’t want nobody knowing they’ve been to a vamp club’ – his lip curled with contempt – ‘so it suits all round.’
Crap. ‘How long does it last for?’
‘Long enough, Ms Taylor,’ a deep voice said next to me.
I jerked round at the voice, my pulse jumping in my throat, wondering for a mad moment if it was the dog speaking.
A vampire was standing a couple of feet away, an avuncular smile on his handsome fortysomething face – a fang-free smile, of course, a neat trick the older vamps practise: Fyodor Andreevich Zakharin, head honcho of the White Diamond vamps.
Chapter Twenty
I gave Fyodor a narrow-eyed once-over: long silver-white hair, long-skirted coat covered in military-looking braid sewn with diamonds, waistcoat and breeches tucked into high soft leather boots. His clothes were all white other than his boots, which were gleaming black. His white silk cravat was stuck with a diamond tie-pin so enormous that it would make a goblin queen drool with lust. The white outfit sparkled in the UV lights, giving him a glowing nimbus, like I guessed an aura would, if I could see them. Next to him sat the dog-tagged wolfhound, tongue still lolling, silver-white coat looking not unlike the vamp’s silver-white hair.
‘Let me guess,’ I said, pleased my voice came out calm, ‘you’re either going to a naff elf-themed wedding, or you’re shooting an advert for soap powder that can really make your whites sparkle.’
The dog growled low in its throat, and was answered by more rumbling growls
. My stomach clenched with apprehension as I flashed a look around me. Gareth was blank-faced, mind-locked – not that he’d be any help, even if he wasn’t – and the goblin was snoring softly in his high chair. And half a dozen more huge wolfhounds ringed the entrance hall, standing between me and the exit. Great, a doggy ambush.
‘Genevieve is our guest, Max,’ Fyodor, the sparkling vamp warned, drawing my attention back to him as he patted the dog’s head.
I dipped my shoulder and caught my backpack by its handle. The three bags of blood inside it weren’t heavy, but the couple of bricks I kept in it were, and they made it a handy weapon. Malik might’ve given me protection, but it still pays to stay alert. You never know when some vamp’s going to develop a superiority complex, or think he’s found a get-out clause that’ll let him keep his head attached to his shoulders.
‘Guests usually get to leave when they want.’ I had a moment’s regret that I’d used the last of my Security Stingers on Sylvia the dryad. ‘Oh, and there’s the other thing: didn’t you swear an oath to your liege lord Malik al-Khan not to approach me?’
‘Please, Genevieve, put away your fear.’ He held his hands out in welcome. ‘You have no need of it here. We acknowledge Malik al-Khan’s protection over you. We also offer you the hospitality and protection of White Diamond blood while you are with us.’
I relaxed. Slightly. Offers of hospitality and protection were all good, even if I’d rather he hadn’t spoken to me in the first place.
‘But even were it not for these assurances, you are safe,’ he carried on, smiling like he was about to tell me I’d won a prize draw, ‘for you are among your true blood-family now.’
I held up my hand. ‘Wait just one minute. My father might be White Diamond blood, but I’m not a vampire, and there’s no way I’m admitting any connection to you through blood.’ Not when I don’t know what sort of trouble it could get me into.
‘Genevieve, please, I assure you I mean you no harm. Our blood connection is not only through our vampire lineage, but we are also kin through our human bloodlines. Allow me to introduce myself.’ He smacked his booted heels together and executed a bow. ‘I am Fyodor Andreevich Zakharin. Your father Andrei Yurievich Zakharin honoured me with the Gift, but more than that, he is my patrilineal ancestor: my great-grandfather, to be precise. So you see, we are cousins, Genevieve Nataliya Zakharinova, cousins twice removed. You are indeed among your true family.’
Just what a girl doesn’t need: long-lost vampire relatives.
His smile widened, and this time I caught a glimpse of fang. ‘I was privileged to be at your christening, although you would not recollect that, but you should recollect meeting me at your betrothal to the Autarch. I asked if you’d be kind enough to call me Cousin Fyodor.’
A flash of him smiling in just the same way, saying just the same words, with my father standing at his side, lit my mind, then it was snuffed out by the gut-churning fear any memory of that night brought me. I stared at him, a voice inside irrationally screaming, If he was family, why hadn’t he helped? Anger and disbelief that he hadn’t – and now he expected me to remember him – burned the fear away. I glared at him. ‘Are you trying to be funny or something?’
He frowned in what looked like genuine puzzlement. ‘Why would I try and make you laugh?’
‘Oh, well, let’s see: my wedding night, that was when I was paraded like a prize heifer in front of more than a hundred vampires I’d never met before, and then my only faeling friend was tortured and killed by the Autarch, all while he happily told me her death was a wedding gift to please me. While all of you watched!’ I spat the words out, trying to get rid of the foul taste of bile and terror in my mouth. ‘And you ask why I don’t remember meeting you!’
A loud growl came from the dog.
‘Shh, Max.’ Fyodor absently stroked its head, his smile dimming. ‘I can understand why you may not value the Autarch’s concern for you; these modern times are more lax when it comes to dealing with such insults. But the girl was an upstart.’ He waved a conciliatory hand. ‘She tried to usurp your place, and the Autarch’s authority, Genevieve. What else could he have done?’
‘Sack her, send her off with a flea in her ear, maybe? Anything but what he did do.’ I clenched my fists, gently swinging the backpack, wanting to smash it over his obtuse, old-fashioned head. The dog gave a warning bark. ‘Oh, and just so you know, Cousin, his was the insult, not hers: she was seventeen, only three years older than me, and he’s the prince, the god you all bow to. What was she supposed to do when he started giving her jewels and fucking her? Say no?’
The dog leapt, jaws opening wide, and Fyodor’s shout of denial was lost in its loud barking.
I threw myself backwards, jerking the backpack up to shield my throat. I hit the thick-carpeted floor with a thud that knocked the air from my lungs and the rage from my mind. Stupid, to let my anger get the better of me! Adrenalin flooded my muscles as the dog snarled, and rough hair brushed my hands as the backpack was wrenched from my grip. The dog gave a series of high-pitched yelps and I brought my knees up, tucked my chin down and rolled back and away, expecting to feel its teeth in my flesh at any moment.
Then Fyodor’s deep voice shouted in a language I didn’t understand as I rolled into something hard: a wall. My mind raced, trying to figure out a way to escape as I instinctively curled tighter into a defensive ball, bracing myself against the dog’s attack. Even if it didn’t try to tear me apart, having a hundred and fifty pounds of dog on top of me wasn’t going to be fun. The seconds ticked by, and my adrenalin-hyped senses finally caught up with the fact that I didn’t have a huge wolfhound trying to rip chunks out of me. I peered out warily from between my arms.
Fyodor had the dog up on its hind legs – the dog was taller than him – and had one arm locked around its chest while his other hand twisted the chain at its throat; choking it as its back paws scrabbled for grip on the carpet. Fyodor made manhandling the animal look easy, but even the newbie vampires can peel the roof off a car like opening a sardine can. The dog was losing. I shot a look towards the entrance. The rest of the dogs were still lying there, blocking my exit, but they appeared unconcerned about their pack mate’s plight. I turned back as Fyodor started crooning something in the dog’s ear, speaking too softly for me to hear.
Magic prickled against my skin and I shifted uncomfortably. The dog’s silver-white coat glowed brightly, as if each hair was a live fibre-optic wire, then its fur receded, pulling back into its flesh like it was being sucked in by a vacuum. The dog’s hairless body shone blindingly white for a brief second, and an explosion of magic shattered my sight. Then the light dissipated and Fyodor was holding the pale, naked body of a male against him. Long platinum-blond hair hid the male’s face. For a second both were silent, unmoving, then the male opened his mouth wide in an ear-splitting shriek, showing all four of his fangs. Fyodor jerked the choke chain, cutting off the vamp’s scream, then released him with a disappointed sigh.
Max the dog/vamp slid bonelessly to the floor in a limp tangle of arms and legs.
I sat up cautiously, keeping a wary eye on the other dogs, not sure if Fyodor had just saved me from being Max’s doggy dinner, or whether it was all some devious ploy to make me feel obligated. ‘So the rumours are true then,’ I said. ‘Your vamps can turn into dogs.’
‘Gareth,’ Fyodor ordered, ignoring me, ‘please bring Max his cloak.’
The blank-faced Gareth rushed out of his booth with a white velvet cloak which he tenderly tucked around Max, tying the cords in a neat bow around the vamp’s throat as if he’d done it a hundred times. He probably had, but was never allowed to remember.
‘Genevieve,’ Fyodor said, and pointed at the prone vamp, ‘this is Maxim Fyodor Zakharin, my son, and your cousin, thrice removed.’ He walked towards me and held out his hand. ‘May I extend an apology on his behalf and assure you we both regret our lack of hospitality. I am at a loss to explain his behaviour, other than that his hound s
tate is not always easily controlled.’
Maxim? Malik had called the vamp who’d invaded his dreamscape on Tower Bridge Maxim. I glanced at the unconscious blond vamp. Yep, he was the same vamp. I hadn’t liked him then, or the previous time I’d come across him, when he’d kidnapped a friend of mine and tried to blackmail me into taking his blood-bond. I liked him much more now he was out for the count.
Ignoring Fyodor’s hand, I stood. ‘What about them?’ I indicated the other dogs.
‘Do not be concerned; they are what they appear.’ He brushed a couple of hairs from his white frockcoat. ‘They are well-trained guard dogs to deter undesirables, and also camouflage, if you will. But to answer your assumption, no, the rumours are not true; my form of the Gift cannot confer the ability to become a hound. Max is the son of my loins, but I did not give him the Gift, and neither did your father.’ His face was calm, but his voice held a shadow of regret. ‘That honour was bestowed on him by the Autarch himself, a rare occurrence, for he does not share his power lightly. It is his magic that flows through my son’s blood.’
I briefly wondered if the Autarch’s psychotic tendencies ran through Max’s blood too. ‘You don’t sound too happy about that,’ I said, keeping my back firmly against the wall.
‘My son owes the Autarch his Oath; it is a situation that causes friction between us. He can be very defensive of any criticism towards his master. It is the only reason I can think of to explain his attack, for which I apologise once again; it is unforgivable when we have offered you our hospit—’
The sharp end of a stake appeared in the centre of Fyodor’s chest and blood spurted from the wood, splattering my face and clothes. I gave a shocked yelp before I could stop myself. Fyodor’s eyes widened with the same shocked surprise as he looked down. He blinked, then grasped the stake with both hands and started to pull it out. For a moment I thought he’d succeed, but then he shuddered, his hands slipped away and he crumpled to the floor, the blood ruining the sparkling whiteness of his outfit.
Bitter Seed of Magic (9781101553695) Page 15
