by Helen Harper
‘But it’s not true?’
I shake my head. ‘No. I wanted to see him suffer. And when Michael – I mean, Lord Montserrat – stopped me from killing Matheson, I knew he was right. But when he ended up dead anyway…’ My voice trails off.
‘You were pleased?’ Dr Love prompts.
‘I was.’ I pick at a hangnail. ‘The ex-CEO of Magix is dead. Not at my hands but as a result of what I did. I knew it was going to happen and I did it anyway.’
He frowns. ‘I don’t follow. He was behind bars. I thought all the signs pointed to a Kakos daemon.’
‘I can’t go into details,’ I mutter. ‘But he’s dead because of me.’ I can feel the weight of his gaze. ‘I know the world’s not black and white. I’m not that naïve. But…’
‘But?’
I look up. ‘But I’ve always known the difference between right and wrong. I’ve always known which path is the moral one. Don’t get me wrong,’ I say, ‘I’m not perfect and I’m not pretending that I have been. But someone once told me I shouldn’t lie to myself and now I think I’m facing up to the truth. My own truth.’ I swallow. ‘I’m not a good person. I wanted them to die. All of them. There’s a group of daemons hiding out in Venezuela and, as soon as I can work out how to find them, I’m going to go there and make them pay for what they tried to do to my friends.’
‘Some might call that justice,’ Dr Love interjects mildly.
‘No, it’s not justice. Justice is cool-headed, impartial and logical. What I want to do to them is nothing like that. What I feel about the deaths of O’Connell and Matheson and Miller is nothing like that.’ I bite my bottom lip so hard that I draw blood. ‘Maybe that makes me evil too. Right and wrong are not so clear any more.’
His eyes are untroubled. ‘This might be the first time you’ve been honest with me.’
‘I’m scared.’ My hands are trembling so I shove them beneath my thighs. ‘There’s a line and I’m almost at it. Once I cross it, I’m not sure I can ever come back. It’s why I’ve been avoiding Michael. There’s a darkness in me and it feels like it’s growing. I’m afraid it’s going to come out and I’ll never be able to put it back.’
‘Bo,’ the doctor says softly, ‘you’re not evil. These feelings are natural. Anyone who’s been a victim of crime wants vengeance.’
‘But not everyone can get it.’
He watches me for a moment, his face impassive. Then he reaches down, opens a drawer and takes out something. It’s a small, round, white pebble. ‘Take it,’ he urges.
I pluck it out of his palm. It’s cool to the touch and very smooth but there’s no hint of magic. It’s just a pebble. I look at him, confused.
‘It’s a symbol,’ Dr Love explains. ‘A placebo, if you like. If you feel like this in the future, if you feel this darkness you speak of is growing and you don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong, hold the stone. Use it to ground you.’
I heft it from hand to hand. ‘I don’t see how it will work.’
He smiles. ‘Trust me. I’m a doctor.’ His gaze is so benevolent I’m tempted to ask him for a hug. ‘So,’ he says lightly, ‘other than the Venezuelan daemons, what’s next for the Red Angel?’
‘I don’t know.’ I massage my neck. ‘There’s always Tobias Renfrew. He’s wrapped up with those sodding daemons somehow.’
Dr Love throws me a sceptical glance. ‘He’s been missing for decades. Dozens of people have searched for him. How will you find him?’
I shrug. ‘I don’t know.’ I close my fingers round the pebble and squeeze it tight. ‘Maybe I should just let sleeping dogs lie.’
Kimchi, curled up at my feet, opens his eyes and lets out a small bark. I reach down to scratch the soft fur behind his ears.
‘You should take a rest,’ Dr Love suggests.
I put the pebble into my pocket and feel my old self surge to the fore. ‘Actually, it’s funny you should say that. As soon as we’re done here, I’m heading off for a nice relaxing drink at a little bar I know.’
‘Really.’ His voice is dry.
I manage to smile. ‘Really.’
*
I’m forced to go through the same rigmarole as before – knocking on the door and waiting to be allowed entry – but this time the vampire gazes out at me with a less hostile expression. ‘If you’re the Red Angel,’ he says, ‘you should be with us. Medici is red.’ He grins, baring his fangs which are a disturbing shade of yellow. ‘Blood is red.’
‘I just want a drink.’ I hold up my palms in submission. ‘Nothing else.’
He waggles one bushy eyebrow. ‘If you want more, let me know.’ Although I can’t see it from this side of the door, I’m fairly certain that he’s cupping his groin suggestively towards me.
I push down nausea and reach inside my pocket, my fingers brushing lightly against Love’s pebble. ‘Are you going to let me in?’ I inquire, as if I don’t really care either way.
He grins, opens the door and bows. ‘It’s not every day we get celebrities gracing us with their presence.’
I keep my lips tightly buttoned, walk up to the now-familiar bar and sit on my usual stool.
‘Bloody Mary?’ the bartender asks, polishing a glass.
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘And make it a real one.’
If she’s surprised, she doesn’t show it. She beckons over one of waiting vampettes. ‘Sure.’
‘Mary’ wanders over with a wide smile. Her pupils are dilated. I don’t smile back, I simply reach over and curve my head down. She tastes both alcoholic and spicy and I realise she’s been drinking vodka and Tabasco to enhance the flavour of her blood. It should disturb me but it doesn’t.
When I’ve had my fill, Mary leaves me in peace. The bar is quieter than I expected. I recognise a few faces. One woman, seated with a friend in the far corner, is sending me sidelong glances. There’s a pleasing lack of hostility. Considering my illegal incursion into the Medici stronghold just days before, I expected to suffer some setbacks in my bid to cultivate a Medici contact. Instead I feel a zing of excitement that increases when I check out the table in front of her and realise that she smokes.
I pull out the same crumpled pack of cigarettes from my pocket and lay it carefully on the bar top. The door outside bangs to admit a new customer but, before I can see who it is, the bartender passes me my drink. I thank her and tap out a cigarette. Making a show of searching my pockets, I look frustrated at my inability to locate my lighter. I’m careful to keep my eyes down; I don’t want to be too obvious. When I feel someone brush against me, however, my stomach flips in delight.
‘Do you need a light?’
I look up and immediately recognise with shock that it’s Joseph, the good Samaritan. The woman I’d thought was a potential is no longer looking in my direction and I can feel tension coiling in my veins. This could be bad.
‘Thanks,’ I mutter.
He pulls out a Zippo lighter engraved with the Medici coat of arms and flicks it open, sparking the flame. Not sure whether he’s about to thrust it in my face and kick me in the stomach, I lean down carefully to light my cigarette. Even though we’re inside and there’s no breeze to speak of, he cups his hands round it. Then he bends his head. ‘Something’s about to go down,’ he says in a low voice. ‘Whatever you do, don’t trust her.’
Ice runs down my spine. I pull back, lit cigarette in one hand and tightly clenched fist in the other. He gives me the perfunctory smile of a stranger and moves away.
I turn back to the bar, puff on the cigarette and wait. Was he referring to the woman behind me? Is she about to come over? I glance at her reflection. She’s standing up.
Taking a deep breath, I try to remain casual. I throw a confused look at Joseph to enquire whether this woman is who he meant, but he’s sitting with his back to me. I take another a d
rag as the woman walks up.
‘See you, Yuko!’ she calls out cheerfully. The bartender smiles and waves. Then, bafflingly, the woman strolls out without so much as a word to me.
I stub out the cigarette, tossing down money on the bar top. ‘Cheers,’ I say, as sunnily as I can. ‘See you again.’
Yuko acknowledges my farewell, scooping up the money while I try to follow the woman.
The doorman gives me a wink on the way out. ‘Leaving so soon?’
‘Gotta take my dog for a walk,’ I tell him. Then I escape into the cold night air and search for a sign of the woman.
She’s nowhere to be seen. I curse. If Joseph didn’t mean her, then who was he referring to? I look around again, checking the small street in case she’s waiting for me. There’s no one: she’s already gone.
*
I’m still frowning when I walk into the New Order office. Peter has apparently already left for home and Arzo is shrugging on his coat to do the same.
‘Evening, Bo.’
‘Hey.’
The phone rings and Connor answers. He flicks a glance at me. ‘Do you want to talk to the Daily Flag?’ I shake my head. ‘They’ll pay you twenty thousand for an exclusive.’
I gape. ‘Pounds?’
Arzo looks at me pointedly. ‘You’re a popular person. You’re going to have to talk to one of them. We can’t afford to let the opportunity to spin our own story slip by.’
‘I know,’ I groan. ‘Just give me a day or two to get my head together first.’
He nods at me. As if on cue, my grandfather appears. ‘Bo.’
I peck his cheek, then check anxiously for the cat.
‘She’s not here,’ he says. ‘It’s not fair to bring her along when you have that mutt around.’
I try not to look too happy. Judging by the stern look I receive in return, I don’t do a very good job.
‘Something’s just happened,’ I tell them all quietly. Matt looks excited, bouncing up towards me. The others turn expectantly. ‘I was just at Medici’s bar and…’
There’s a loud banging on the door and a figure bursts through. Kimchi barks wildly and I immediately take an attack stance. Knees, then throat, I decide, before the figure collapses in a heap on the floor. Arzo wheels forward. The figure raises her head, revealing not only her identity but also her scratched and bruised skin.
‘Help me,’ Dahlia whispers.
Everyone rushes towards her – apart from my grandfather and me. I give him a grim look, which he returns in spades. I squeeze the stone in my pocket and take a very deep breath. So much for some quiet time, then.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read High Stakes. I hope you’ve enjoyed it! Even if you didn’t, your feedback is very important to me. It would mean a lot if you left a review on Amazon here: http://amzn.to/1vMmzLa, or contacted me via my website: http://www.helen-harper-books.com Look out for the next Bo Blackman book coming in 2015.
All the best,
Helen
Other titles by Helen Harper
The Blood Destiny series
Bloodmagic
Bloodrage
Blood Politics
Bloodlust
The Corrigan novellas
Corrigan Fire
The Olympiana series
Eros
Lyre
The Bo Blackman series
Dire Straits
New Order
