The Sweet Scent of Blood

by Suzanne McLeod

  ‘I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, Toni.’ I brushed another speck from my trousers. ‘There’s a larger matter here I have to deal with first.’ I said my goodbyes, dropped the phone back into my bag and leaned back in my chair.

  Constable Curly-hair threw the troll-pen down and it clattered over the desk. ‘I want a word with you.’

  What had I done to piss her off so badly? I gave her a level look. ‘What, just the one?’

  Her lips twisted in a sneer again. ‘It’s a bloody shame the sucker didn’t bleed you dry,’ she snapped.

  ‘But we were so rudely interrupted,’ I reminded her. ‘Good things take time.’

  Her face wrinkled in disgust. ‘Hugh’s a good man.’ She picked her cup up. ‘He’s kind, caring, concerned.’ She knocked back the water as though it was something stronger. ‘Sometimes he’s too kind, and people take advantage.’

  Ahh. Now we were getting to it. I smiled, though it didn’t reach my eyes. ‘Do they,’ I said in a flat voice

  ‘Of course, you know about the kids he helps.’ Crumpling the cup, she lobbed it over-arm into a nearby bin.

  I caught the flash of pink magic at her wrist again, then her sleeve covered it.

  ‘The kids he finds on the streets, runaways, and others.’ She wiped her hands down her thighs, tugging at her too-tight uniform trousers. ‘He tries to stop them stealing, doing dope, turning tricks, whatever.’

  I tapped the arm of the chair.

  ‘I know you’re one of them, that Hugh thinks he helped you.’ Spots of colour stained her cheeks. ‘Oh, not that he’s said anything, he’s too nice for that, but I can tell by the way he talks about you.’

  ‘And you’re telling me this because?’

  She leaned towards me, ample breasts threatening the buttons on her shirt. ‘I know your sort, even if he doesn’t. You’re just a nasty little slut who thinks she can get anything she wants using magic.’ Mascara caked her lashes into unattractive clumps. ‘I might be human, but I’m a witch’s daughter. When you came in here with the sucker’s dad, your magic was all over like him like a nasty rash. I could see it.’

  A witch’s daughter: her father was human, not sidhe. I’d have offered my sympathies if it hadn’t been for what she was up to.

  She shook her finger at me. ‘Glamour spells are illegal, you know that as well as I do. Stay away from Hugh. Maybe then I’ll forget what I saw.’

  ‘What, like you forgot to stay outside the cell earlier?’ Grabbing her finger, I bent it far enough back to hurt. ‘I think you’ve already forgotten enough, don’t you?’

  ‘Bitch,’ she hissed, breathing bitter coffee-breath all over me. She swung at me, clawed fingers going for my face, but I caught her wrist, yanked her arm behind her and pushed her back against the desk. She jerked her knee up and I twisted easily to the side, using the desk to trap her.

  ‘You think you know a lot, don’t you?’ I kept my voice low. ‘Well, here’s something else you should know.’ I bent her finger back even more, forcing her arm down. Grunting, she heaved against me, but I shoved her back and shook her arm until her bracelet dropped, the beads chinking. ‘Glamour isn’t the only type of spell that’s illegal.’

  She went still and fear flickered in her eyes.

  My gut twisted in anger as I looked at the bracelet. Every rose quartz bead but one winked with a spell: lust, binding, memory, maybe an-eye-of-the-beholder ... not that I could tell what they all were, but I’d seen bracelets like this in the market: True Love spells, the quartz being the affinity gem that ties the magic together - only love is too pure an emotion to be manufactured, so the bracelets are really nothing more than a confidence boost - unless they come with the addition of an illegal compulsion spell. Like the one hidden in the pink bead that appeared empty of magic.

  No wonder Hugh couldn’t stop watching her.

  Cracking the spells would shatter the bracelet into so much pink dust, but if Janet had been desperate enough to buy one in the first place, that wasn’t going to stop her.

  ‘What’s your new DI going to say when she sees this?’ I murmured in her ear. ‘And Hugh, how d’you think he’s going to feel?’

  ‘You wouldn’t—!’

  ‘Believe me, I so would.’

  ‘No! You don’t understand,’ she whined. ‘I love Hugh, only he won’t go out with a human. I just wanted him to think about me like that.’ Her voice hitched on a sob. ‘You can’t tell him.’

  I shifted so I could look her in the eyes. ‘Okay ... but there is one condition.’ Shit, was I really going to bargain with her? Probably not the greatest idea I’d ever had, but this was for Hugh, so I ignored my unease and said, ‘You remove the bracelet and keep it in an envelope.’

  ‘That’s it?’ Surprise sharpened her features. ‘Nothing else?’

  ‘Agree, and I’ll won’t tell Hugh, or your DI.’

  Her expression turned sly. ‘Give your word you won’t tell anyone else either.’

  Of course she’d think of that one. ‘Agreed.’

  ‘And I get to keep the bracelet?’

  ‘In the envelope.’

  She chewed her lip and considered the deal. Then she sighed. ‘Fine, okay.’

  A quiet chime split the air around us.

  ‘Hear that?’ I squeezed her wrist. ‘Never break a bargain with a fae.’

  ‘I know that,’ she sniffed.

  She’d come up with a way to weasel out of the deal; I’d made it too fast to think through all the options, but if it was the wrong way - the magic could be capricious when it wanted - then the magic would take its retribution. I’d be okay, so long as I kept my end of the bargain. I laughed - not a happy sound - and released her.

  She threw me a nasty look and massaged her hand. ‘You’re pretty strong for such a skinny bitch, you know.’ She grabbed an envelope from a pile on a nearby desk and slipped the bracelet off her wrist. ‘I really get to keep it and you won’t say anything?’

  ‘Yes,’ I repeated, ‘as long as it’s kept sealed in the same envelope.’

  A devious smile twitched across her lips, then was gone. She knew as well as I did that the bracelet worked best worn next to skin, but even in an envelope it would still have some power ... but she wasn’t a witch, only a witch’s daughter - she’d have a touch of ability through her genes, but it wouldn’t be much more than any other full-blooded human. And judging by how overweight she was, she had to be scoffing sugar by the bagful to amp-up what little sight she did have. There was no way she’d be able to check the bracelet still had all its spells while it was in the envelope, and until she figured out how to get out of the deal, Hugh would be safe.

  As if I’d conjured him up the door opened and Hugh’s deep voice sounded from the hall. A tall thirtysomething woman appeared, stopped and scanned the office, then stalked in, her thin body ramrod-straight. Hugh followed behind.

  Constable Curly-hair quickly dropped the bracelet inside the envelope, and sealed it closed. She tucked her package safely into her pocket then turned towards the woman, saying brightly, ‘I was just getting a coffee. Can I get you one, ma’am?’

  I slumped back in my chair - I needed to be sitting down for the next part of my plan - then I focused on the pink glow at Janet’s hip and called the spell. The magic hit me like a fist in the stomach and winded me so badly I hunched over, hugging myself. The grey linoleum floor turned into a swirling sea that threatened to engulf me, bile rose in my throat and I banged my head on the underside of the desk to keep from throwing up. I scrabbled for my bag, then, clutching a hand to my head, I eased upright in the chair.

  ‘Are you okay, Genny?’ Hugh’s concerned face blurred in front of me.

  ‘Yeah,’ I mumbled, ‘just banged my head.’ I blinked at him. ‘I feel a bit dizzy.’

  He placed a gentle hand at the back of my skull. ‘Put your head between your knees. Take deep breaths.’

  I breathed in and out and a shimmer of heat rushed through me. The magic settled. S
lowly I sat up and sank back into the chair. As I apologised I noticed the constable had left the room.

  ‘Accidents happen.’ The thin woman stared down at me, a deep frown making her patrician features look even more severe. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Helen Crane, Ms Taylor.’ She smiled and it was like the moon shining in the night sky. Suddenly she was beautiful.

  I’d been wondering why no one else had noticed the constable’s bracelet. Here was the answer: Helen Crane’s jacket lapel sagged under the weight of three gold broaches set with chips of jade. A wide belt glittering with crystals cinched her waist. Long strings of garnets swung from her lobes tangling with her honey-blonde hair, and as she leaned towards me I noticed a sapphire the size of a robin’s egg nestled in the deep vee of her black silk blouse.

  DI Crane was decorated like an expensive Christmas tree, only it wasn’t the fortune in jewellery that had my nerves twitching but the strength of the spells stored in the gems - almost enough juice to fill half the magic stalls in Covent Garden Witches’ Market. It made me want to ask her exactly what she was afraid off.

  She regarded me with an indecipherable look out of eyes as blue as the sapphire she wore, then lifted a hand, her fingers adorned with enough rings to double as high-priced knuckledusters, and brushed her thumb across the side of my mouth. ‘You have a smear of lipstick on your cheek, Ms Taylor.’

  ‘Have I?’ I snagged another of Hugh’s paper coasters and rubbed at my face.

  She took the crumpled coaster from me, tilted my chin and wiped my mouth as though I were a child. ‘There.’ She gave me a peculiar smile. ‘All gone.’

  I gave her a half-smile back, not sure whether to be amused or insulted.

  Her expression fell back into severe lines. ‘Sergeant Munro tells me you want to look at the pathologist’s report on Melissa Banks.’ She angled her head and looked at me quizzically. ‘Why exactly is that?’

  I wasn’t really all that interested; it had been Hugh’s reason for escaping after I’d deliberately embarrassed him. But as I felt another prick of guilt for the way I’d manipulated him, I said, ‘As I can’t look at the body, I thought it might be a good idea.’

  ‘You misunderstand me,’ she said. ‘You’re not a police consultant. You have no medical qualifications. You don’t deal with the dead. So why are you even here?’ Her eyes bored into me.

  I had misunderstood her. ‘Alan Hinkley asked me to come.’ I accepted the cup of water Hugh was holding out towards me. Red dust shimmered in his black hair.

  DI Crane’s mouth turned down. ‘Do you always do what people ask of you?’

  ‘My job is to find magic, Inspector.’ I took a sip of water, looked at her over the rim of the cup. ‘If that’s what I’m asked to do, then it pays me to do it.’

  Spreading the fingers of her right hand, she inspected her rings, then clenched her fist. ‘The Witches’ Council wouldn’t have approved any involvement in this matter from Spellcrackers.com without a police request.’ She looked up, stared me straight in the eyes. ‘There hasn’t been one. Furthermore, there is no need for one. I have personally investigated Mr Hinkley’s claims that his so—’

  She stopped mid-word, blue eyes going unfocused.

  I glanced at Hugh, but he gave a tiny shake of his head, as mystified as I was.

  DI Crane grasped her left earring as the colour faded from her face. A thin red line snaked out of her palm and twisted around her wrist, vanishing into her sleeve.

  I jumped up, thinking she’d cut herself on her gems, that it was blood, then I realised it was a spell, one so powerful that I’d seen it without needing to look.

  ‘Munro.’ The DI’s voice cracked. She clutched the sapphire pendant with her other hand. ‘Sergeant Munro.’ The words were firmer, more decisive. ‘Reception. Now.’ She turned and made for the door, saying over her shoulder to him, ‘They’re coming.’

  Who is coming?

  I hurried after them into the Back Hall, where a soft slapping sound caught my attention. Jeremiah the goblin, his mouth stretched wide in a grin, his green sequins bright against the black of his teeth, was smacking his bat against the palm of his hand as he stared fixedly at the entranceway.

  Behind the goblin stood Neil Banner and Alan Hinkley, looking similarly confused as they looked from the goblin to us to the door.

  Then a crawling sensation washed over me, raising every hair on my body, and I knew what - or rather, who - was coming. This was so not good. Advertising their approach like this was akin to taking an imp to show-and-tell at Sunday School.

  Hugh’s hair had flattened, giving him a hard, crushing look. Had he remembered about the goblin’s bling, remembered how young and inexperienced the goblin was? ‘Hugh,’ I muttered, trying to catch his attention.

  ‘Not now, Genny,’ he said, voice calm. ‘Go back inside. This is no place for you.’

  Maybe he was right.

  But it was too late.

  The door crashed open. A chill wind rushed in, swirled round the hall, set the lights swinging on their chains and rattled the glass in the windows.

  Then all was perfect stillness.

  And the sound of the goblin slapping his bat on the palm of his hand sounded as loud as a fire-dragon’s jaw snapping closed.

  Chapter Nine

  Three vampires walked into the police station. It sounds like one of those jokes, except I doubted anyone would be laughing by the time we got to the punch-line.

  The first one through the door lived up to the romantic stereotype: he swept his velvet knee-length jacket back with a flourish and posed with one hand on his hip. Ivory lace billowed at his wrists and neck, and a black ribbon caught his tawny hair in a loose pony-tail at the nape of his neck. Aquiline nostrils flared as he cast an arrogant look around the room, passing over Alan Hinkley, Neil Banner and the grinning goblin, all clustered on my right. He stopped when he reached me.

  A shiver ran down my spine as his eyes met mine.

  It looked like it was the night for all the old ones to surface, though as with the Armani-suited vamp, I didn’t recognise this particular vamp either.

  A warning rumble issued from deep within Hugh’s chest.

  The vampire snapped his head round, sniffed with disdain at Hugh, then settled his attention on DI Crane. His expression turned intense, brooding. With his eyes never leaving hers, he extended his right leg and bowed. ‘You are very beautiful, Madame.’ He spoke slowly, with a thick accent.

  Her eyes wide, she pressed her lips together until they disappeared. Her fingers, clenched around the sapphire pendant at her breast, were almost bloodless.

  Damn. The new DI was afraid of the vamps - not just a healthy, ‘hey, they could be dangerous’ type of fear, but what looked suspiciously like a full-on phobia. So what the hell was she doing running the magic murder squad?

  I shot a look at Hugh, but he was still glowering at the lace-bedecked vampire.

  ‘Good evening.’ Vampire Number Two appeared, moving with effortless grace to stand just in front of Lacy. He smiled, fangs hidden. The smile was charm itself, not vamp mesma, just centuries of practise - eight centuries, to be precise, if the media had got it right, except he looked to be in his early thirties. An Oxford-blue shirt accentuated his azure eyes and blond hair, while his blazer, grey flannels and loafers gave the impression he was generally to be found idly punting down the Thames. Instead he played the Godfather to London’s Blood Families.

  This was the Undead Lord, the Earl.

  ‘I must apologise for the theatrics.’ The Earl gestured at Lacy. ‘Louis, my companion, is a little concerned about his friend, Roberto October. I am afraid his feelings have rather overwhelmed him.’

  I frowned at Lacy Louis. Was this the same Louis who’d sunk his fangs into Holly, the faeling I’d met earlier? The vamp she’d said Bobby had argued with?

  Louis was still brooding at the Inspector. ‘I regrette also, Madame.’

  Then the third vampire shuffled in behind, his shoe
s squeaking across the floor like an anxious mouse. He stopped, hovering halfway between the Earl and Alan’s little group. His rumpled suit looked about as comfortable as a hair shirt and his undone shoe laces trailed about his feet. One sharp fang had pierced his bottom lip, and a sluggish bead of blood dripped onto his collar, merging with the rusty stains already there. He peered around, the fretful look of a young child on his thirtysomething face.

  The other vamps ignored him. But then, he did kind of spoil the show.

  ‘That’s the vampire solicitor.’ Alan’s muttered comment to Neil Banner broke the expectant silence. ‘He didn’t look like that last night. What’s the matter with him?’

  It was a good question. A better one was why had the Earl brought him along?

  ‘My dear Inspector.’ The Earl extended his hand to DI Crane.

  She flinched and Hugh moved nearer, his warning rumble again reverberating around the hall.

  Shuffle Vamp stumbled backwards.

  The Earl let his hand fall. ‘My sincere apologies for calling upon you unannounced, as it were,’ he said smoothly. ‘When Westman’ - he indicated Shuffle Vamp - ‘explained the situation to me, I felt I had to come immediately.’ His charming smile was tinged with sadness. ‘Please do forgive me.’

  DI Crane appeared to regain her composure. She gave him a small nod. ‘Yes, of course, Lord—?’

  ‘I am known simply as the Earl, my dear lady. There is no need to stand on any ceremony. My claim to my title passed some long years ago and I have no wish to inconvenience the current bearer by reclaiming it. Time stands still for no man.’ He inclined his head. ‘Please do not let me keep you from your duties any more. It is Mr Hinkley I wish to speak to.’

  DI Crane frowned uncertainly at Louis until Hugh bent his head down to hers and said something too low for me to hear. She straightened her shoulders, shaking her head.

  I rubbed the back of my neck, still uneasy. What was Lacy Louis doing here? That ‘friend’ story was a load of crap. The Earl turning up full of concern, that was believable; he was probably running media interference ... except that there were no reporters hanging round to scribble down his well-thought-out off-the-cuff remarks.