Infernal Enchantment (Firebrand Book 2)

by Helen Harper

  My brow creased. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Moles.’ Fred’s grin was so wide it all but split his face from ear to ear. ‘Whenever St Erbin’s paid for mole control, ghoul activity disappeared. Whenever they didn’t do anything about moles, the ghouls returned. So either ghouls have a mortal fear of small subterranean mammals or…’

  ‘It was the moles all along.’ I exhaled. ‘Moles disturbed the ground, and the church automatically thought it was deformed creatures breaking into coffins and nabbing corpses. Partly because of their history, and partly because of their location. But the ghouls really did stop stealing from graves back in the 1800s.’ Praise be. Finnegan was in the clear. ‘Well done. This is great work.’

  Fred swept a bow. ‘The evidence might be circumstantial but all the dates match up. The church authorities were too wrapped up in their fear of the supernatural to realise what was going on literally in their own backyard. And nobody else thought to question it. Even Liza believed that ghouls still rob graves.’

  Some of the tension in my shoulders eased, but not all of it. ‘Moles don’t explain Julian Clarke,’ I said.

  Fred held up a finger. ‘Indeed. But there are two important points to consider. In the past four years, there’ve been five occasions when St Erbin’s has reported grave disturbances. On each occasion, there’s been photographic evidence taken by both Reverend Knight and his predecessor, a Reverend Reginald Baxter. All five times, the ground was noticeably disturbed. In theory that could still mean moles, but the patterns of loose earth from the photos suggest otherwise. I checked the weather reports. Before any disturbances were noted, there was bad weather – storms, mist, driving rain, that sort of thing. The sort of weather that would help hide anyone who was digging for a few hours in a graveyard in the middle of the city. Plus, all five times someone had just been laid to rest in the graveyard in the previous ten days.’

  ‘A rogue ghoul? Someone not on Albert Finnegan’s radar?’

  Fred shook his head. ‘No. It can’t be.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because the people buried on all those five occasions weren’t human.’ His eyes met mine. ‘They were all werewolves and, as we now know—'

  ‘Ghouls don’t eat werewolves,’ I finished for him.

  Chapter Eleven

  It wasn’t long after I’d finally persuaded Fred to go home and take the rest of the day off that the Supe Squad buzzer sounded. I opened the door to a young werewolf with a yellow tag on her arm indicating her zeta status. Whoever she was, she was a ranked wolf, albeit one still on the bottom rung.

  She gazed at me, her eyes wide as saucers. There was only a faint yellow tinge to her irises, but her shoulders were wide and her stance was squat. I also noted the thin golden down on her arms. Every physical attribute indicated that she’d been born into the clans as a baby wolf instead of being recruited at a later age.

  I gave myself a mental pat on the back. Not only was I growing more observant, I was now more knowledgeable about supes in general too. Perhaps there was hope for me yet.

  ‘What’s that smell?’ she asked, obviously fascinated.

  ‘Verbena blended with wolfsbane,’ I told her. I’d refreshed the herbs that morning. Both were completely harmless, even to werewolves, but they were a foolproof method of separating the supes from the humans. If you couldn’t smell the herbs you weren’t a supe, no matter what beliefs you held to the contrary.

  ‘Cool,’ she breathed. She continued to stare at me. ‘Is it true that you can’t die?’

  ‘Uh…’ I grimaced. ‘I can die. It’s just that when I do, I … uh…’ I gave up. ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘Cool.’ She blinked at me. ‘Can I touch you?’

  I frowned. ‘No.’

  ‘Okay.’ The werewolf nodded. ‘Cool.’

  ‘Is there something I can help you with?’ I asked. ‘Would you like to report a crime? Do you need assistance?’

  She stared for a moment longer then she shook herself. ‘No.’ She hesitated. ‘I have a message for you. You’re to meet the alphas at Lord Fairfax’s club in twenty minutes. I can escort you, if you wish.’ She held her breath, obviously hopeful that I did indeed require her help to travel less than mile from here in broad daylight. Of course I didn’t need any such thing – but one of my missions was to cultivate as many supe relationships as I could.

  ‘That would be very helpful.’

  The werewolf blushed. ‘Cool.’

  ‘Let me grab my jacket.’

  She nodded and I nipped to the office, grabbing my phone and firing off a quick text to Devereau Webb as I did so. When I returned to the doorway, the wolf was examining her perfectly manicured fingernails with considerable interest.

  ‘Thanks for waiting,’ I said. ‘What’s your name?’ I cleared my throat. ‘I mean, what name would you like me to know you by?’

  ‘It’s Pa—’ She stopped. ‘Actually, it’s Buffy.’

  I gave her a long look. ‘Buffy?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She leaned in and whispered in my ear. ‘But don’t tell the vampires.’

  Alriiiight. I was beginning to see what was going on here. Lady Sullivan still seemed to be under the impression that she could play me for a gullible fool. Yes, I was often gullible, and yes, I was often foolish – but I wasn’t quite at that level.

  ‘Buffy’ was acting the role of naïve ingénue with fluff for brains when I suspected the opposite was true. I’d play along with her for now. If the werewolves were going to continue to underestimate me, I’d continue to let them. It could only be to my advantage in the long run.

  Buffy gave me a pretty smile. ‘Lord Fairfax’s club is this way,’ she said.

  ‘Great,’ I exclaimed brightly. ‘Lead the way.’

  We turned right, and away from Supe Squad. Halfway down the road, the werewolf took out a pocket mirror from her bag and started to examine her reflection. She puckered up her lips, pouted and tossed her hair ostentatiously. I also saw her watching me in the reflection. It was only for a split second, but it was more than enough to confirm my suspicions.

  ‘How long have you been a zeta, Buffy?’ I asked.

  ‘Almost three years.’ Her eyes shone with a fervency I often saw in the wolves. It was the one part of Buffy that I believed in.

  ‘So you’re looking to move up to epsilon soon?’ I asked, referring to the rank above zetas.

  Buffy giggled. ‘Oh, goodness. I’d love to make epsilon but it’ll be a while before I get that far. I have to prove myself first.’

  Uh-huh. One way to prove herself would be to ingratiate herself with me and pass anything she learned back to her clan. I wasn’t the only person in this part of London who was building a network of informers; apparently Lady Sullivan was at it too – and she’d sent me someone who was adept at playing the fool to lull me into a false sense of security. I suspected that Buffy was planning to attach herself to my side like glue, hoping that her ditzy façade would make me more inclined to trust her.

  ‘Can I ask you a question?’

  ‘Of course, you can,’ I said. ‘Fire away.’

  ‘What’s happened to your fingers? They look sore.’

  I glanced down at my bruised hands. ‘Crossbow training,’ I said. ‘As a Supe Squad officer, I’m permitted to carry a crossbow to use against supes if I need to.’ I grimaced. ‘But it’s a lot harder to use it properly than I thought. I should invest in a pair of gloves.’

  Buffy bit her lip. ‘That’s amazing. I could never learn how to use a crossbow.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can either.’

  ‘I bet you’re really good. Can you load one up?’

  ‘That much I can do.’

  ‘And can you shoot it?’

  I nodded. ‘I can hit a target with about fifty percent accuracy. Go me.’

  ‘Wow.’ She shook her head in amazement. ‘That’s brilliant.’ She looked me up and down. ‘I don’t see a crossbow on you, though.’

  ‘No. Until
my accuracy is over ninety percent, my teacher won’t let me take it out with me.’

  ‘I bet you’ll be armed and ready in no time.’ Buffy’s voice was far too fawning. Did Lady Sullivan think I’d fall for this guff?

  ‘We’ll see,’ I said with a smile.

  ‘Maybe one day you can show me how to use one.’

  ‘Mmm,’ I agreed non-committally. ‘Maybe.’

  We crossed the street and went past the row of open shops towards the main crossroads. Buffy stopped in front of a small dress shop and pointed at the mannequin in the window. ‘Look at that skirt! I’d love to be able to wear something like that. I don’t have the legs for it. I’ve got too much natural wolf in me to pull it off.’

  ‘If you like it, you should get it,’ I told her. ‘And you should wear it as often as possible.’

  She giggled. ‘I wish.’ She pointed at a side street. ‘There’s another shop down this way that sells similar clothes. It’s a short cut to Fairfax’s club. We can have a look in the window as we pass – if that’s alright with you,’ she added hastily.

  I smiled easily. ‘Sure.’

  Buffy’s answering grin was dazzling. ‘Thank you!’

  I sighed. She was pulling out all the stops. It was almost a shame that her efforts were going end up thwarted.

  We turned into the side street. I’d been down this way a few times before and I knew that it was very narrow and very quiet. I was vaguely aware of the shop Buffy was talking about; its contents were a bit too dressy for my liking, but I could see why she would like them.

  I checked my watch again. I hoped the detour wouldn’t make us too late. And then I felt an odd prickle at the back of my neck and an unpleasant thought struck me. Perhaps this wasn’t about Lady Sullivan attempting to get insider information. Perhaps matters were far more sinister.

  Buffy started to stride ahead, pulling away from me. I glanced back. Two silhouetted figures appeared at the far end of the narrow street, effectively blocking any exit route. Anger flashed through me. I didn’t have time for this shit. No wonder she’d been asking me so many questions about my crossbow.

  ‘Buffy,’ I said, ‘if you’re thinking about doing anything right now, I strongly suggest you alter your course of action.’

  She spun round so she was facing me. Much of her face had already transformed, and whiskers and fur were sprouting all over her skin. ‘What on earth do you mean?’ she enquired. Her mouth transformed in front of my eyes, developing into an unmistakable muzzle, and there was a cracking sound as her bones shifted.

  I hissed under my breath. ‘No,’ I said, throwing as much power into my voice as I could. ‘Stand down.’ I felt the thrum of compulsion reverberate through my words.

  Sometimes it worked, but Buffy was no weakling and I didn’t have her true name. Mere zeta wolf or not, my attempts to sway her fell flat. Clearly she’d been chosen for this task for more reasons than her acting ability and, without her real name to use, my attempts to control her floundered. Her yellow eyes glinted with cold amusement. I had seconds at best.

  I looked round quickly for something to defend myself with. A dustbin lid would be good – even some discarded litter that I could throw at her could help. Alas, there was nothing to hand. I was stuck on a narrow road with high walls on either side, a werewolf in front and two behind. There was the strong likelihood that I was screwed.

  The anger I’d felt was sliding into panic, old traumas re-surfacing. No, I told myself. There was no time for that. I gritted my teeth and steeled my stomach, lowering my centre of gravity to prepare for what was about to come.

  A split second later, Buffy lunged.

  Her wolf form crashed into me. Her objective was clearly to knock me to the ground so I’d be a completely defenceless target. What Buffy didn’t know was that I was stronger than I looked. I held my upright position and, when she bounced off me, I managed a sharp kick in her direction. She let out a brief whine. That should have given me a glimmer of satisfaction but unfortunately I could already hear pounding feet from behind.

  I didn’t bother to turn around and look. I knew who was coming and why. Instead, I pulled my head down and ran forward. The best I could do now was to get past Buffy because I doubted I’d ever outrun a wolf, regardless of how many times I died or how much faster and more powerful I became. But if I could put a small distance between me and the wolves, I might get to the main road and its relative safety. They wouldn’t attack me when there was a chance others would notice.

  I hurtled past her. For a moment I thought I’d done it, until I heard ripping fabric and felt her teeth scrape against my lower calf. I yanked my leg out of the way before she could pierce the flesh. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of my other two pursuers. Both had transformed – and both were fixed on me with the focus of determined predators.

  Kennedy’s admonitions sprang into my thoughts. I gulped in air and allowed my mind to go blank. It worked. My body took over, flight taking precedence over fight.

  I sprang to my left, using my momentum to spring off the wall on one side and reach for the top of the wall on the other side with one twisting movement. My fingers curled round the rough surface while my toes dug into the bricks for purchase. The muscles in my biceps bunched and strained. I hauled myself up, kicking back the wolf that was snapping at my heels.

  The wall was several inches thick and easy enough to balance on. I started to run, speeding along it like a gymnast on a balance beam. I had no idea how I’d manage the dismount, but I trusted my instincts to see me through. Right now, they were all I had.

  All three wolves beneath me snarled, running alongside the wall on the ground and matching my every step. As soon as they decided to come at me together, I’d be toast. I picked up the pace, the wind whipping at my hair as I ran.

  I couldn’t keep going like this for long because a tall building lay ahead, effectively cutting off the wall. It was too high and its surface was too smooth to do me any good. I clenched my jaw tightly, wondering if I could leap to the opposite wall. Then I spotted the house under reconstruction to my right. It was practically a shell, with neither doors nor windows barring my entrance. That’d do.

  I jumped off the wall away from the werewolves, before landing badly in the debris-filled garden. Agonising pain spasmed through my ankle. One of the wolves howled from the other side of the wall. I pushed past the pain, clambered to my feet and barrelled into the house.

  There was no sign of any builders. That was unfortunate – but not devastating. All I had to do was run through to the front door and out into the street beyond and I’d be safe. Unfortunately, as I ran into the corridor, I realised that the way to the front door was barred; two heavy piles of wood were blocking my exit.

  I cursed. The only way out now was the way I’d come in – and the wolves would be there by now. With no choice, I leapt for the stairs instead and ran up them with even greater speed than I’d achieved at Devereau Webb’s tower block. On the first landing, empty rooms stared at me; the bare floors and chalky clumps of plaster flaking away from the old walls seemed to be mocking my attempts to escape. I ran up the next set of stairs. Same again. This building was only three storeys tall. If I didn’t find something or someone useful soon, I was finished.

  I wheeled round onto the final landing. To one side was an old bathroom but its door was hanging off its hinges and would provide no protection. I darted into the largest room, which overlooked the busy street below. The windows were covered by a single sheet of plastic. I ripped through it and went onto the slim Juliet balcony. I could already hear the wolves’ paws thundering up the stairs behind me.

  It was a long way down and I didn’t rate my chances of jumping and landing on the pavement below without seriously injuring myself. It would be easier to land on my head and die another death. However, I had plans for today and they didn’t involve yet another trip to the morgue.

  I looked up. The roof wasn’t far above me.

&
nbsp; I climbed onto the narrow iron balcony rail. If I stretched up, I could just grab the guttering. It looked rusted and loose, and I doubted it would hold my weight, but I was out of options. I held my breath and sprang up.

  As I’d suspected, the moss-filled gutter gave way almost instantly, dropping a foot down and taking me with it. I scrambled for purchase, my legs swinging loosely in the air below. There was a loud crack. I glanced to the side at the last guttering joint; the old nails holding it in place were straining free from the bricks. With one final spurt of energy, I released my grip and swung upwards towards the sky.

  At first, I didn’t think it had worked. I was half expecting to see the ground rushing towards me before everything went black. Instead, I found myself balanced precariously on the slick tiles of the roof. I wasn’t sure how I’d managed it – but somehow I had.

  I pushed myself up unsteadily, bracing one hand against the sloping roof with the other extended outwards for balance, then I started to shuffle along. I didn’t look back. The growls and snarls of the foiled wolves were enough for me.

  I kept going until I reached the end of the row of terraced houses. The last building was a guesthouse – and that meant it had a fire escape. I slid down three metres until my feet hit solid metal, then I jogged down to the ground and joined the people on the main street below.

  I’d done it. But I was very, very pissed off.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ten minutes later, I strolled up to the entrance of Lord Fairfax’s club, hoping that my appearance was carefree and my attitude seemed chilled.

  The solitary doorman stared at me with a less nonchalant expression. ‘Detective Constable Bellamy,’ he said carefully, his eyes drifting to my cheek and back again. ‘What can I do for you today?’

  ‘You’re not expecting me?’

  He licked his lips. ‘Uh, no. But I can check inside…’

  I held up my hand. ‘There’s no need.’ Clearly Lady Sullivan hadn’t expected me to make it this far, so she hadn’t set up the meeting I’d requested. ‘Is Lord Fairfax in?’