by Keri Arthur
“A problem that has apparently been rectified, if the satisfaction practically oozing from your pores is anything to go by. Go.”
I rolled my eyes and bounded up the stairs. Once I’d sent Ginny and Mia a text telling them lunch was off, I pulled on a thick pair of woolly socks, shoved my feet into my slippers, and then set about making the tea and sandwiches.
“There’s enough there to feed an army,” Mo commented, her eyes twinkling. “You really did have a good night, didn’t you?”
“And no breakfast.” I placed the tray on the small table near the counter, then grabbed a beef and onion relish sandwich and sat down. “How did the cleanup at the vault go?”
She reached for a ham and cheese sandwich. “We reinstated the fake wall and called in Erika to sweep out the stench of fire, but it’s going to take some time to sort through the remains of the books and see if anything can be salvaged.”
Erika was Ginny’s mom and my aunt. “And the throne? Did you manage to get upstairs to take a look at it?”
“Before it was snatched away by the Blackbirds, you mean?”
“Yes, and don’t start.”
She raised her eyebrows, devilment in her eyes. “I have no idea as to what you’re referring.”
“Of course you don’t.”
She chuckled softly. “The glyphs are definitely from Einar’s era, which means that particular piece of wood is older than the throne itself. Couldn’t make it all out, but there’s mention of the Blackbirds, the sword, and light being reborn.”
“Helpful.”
“Once Barney’s nephew enhances that photo you took, I should be able to work out the rest of it.”
“And hopefully why the dark elf didn’t want us reading it.” I finished the rest of my sandwich and reached for another. “Did you call Jackie?”
Mo’s amusement fled. “Yes, a couple of times, but she hasn’t answered. It’s rather worrying.”
“Maybe she’s just been busy.”
“Maybe.” Mo picked up the teapot and poured us both a cup. “She’s never usually this slow in responding, though.”
“Do you want to fly up there today and check? It won’t hurt to close the store early.”
There certainly hadn’t been many people walking past in the time I’d been sitting here, and the few that had hadn’t even glanced into our window. But then, it was winter and, despite the blue sky, damn cold. Sensible tourists would no doubt be inside a café or a pub by now, having a meal and a drink.
She hesitated and then nodded. “I’ve a gut feeling something is wrong, and it never pays to ignore that sort of stuff.”
Especially when it was Mo’s gut. “I don’t suppose Ginny came in this morning, did she?”
“Yes, she did, on the pretense of buying soap, but hanging around an extraordinarily long time. I gather you told her about Lucas?”
“Indeed I did.” I hesitated. “Are we expecting him to come in today?”
“Tomorrow at eleven.”
“Ah.”
Amusement creased the corners of Mo’s eyes. “Is that an, ‘Ah, I’m looking forward to it’ or more an ‘Ah, my attraction to the man scares me and I just might hide’.”
I whacked her lightly on the arm—which only served to increase her amusement. “I don’t run from anyone.”
“Which does not address the rest of my question.”
“Deliberately so. You’re amused enough.” I picked up my Disney mug. “When I was talking to Max last night, he said that part of a Blackbird’s power was an intense sexual magnetism—is that true?”
“I wouldn’t have said that was the province of Blackbirds—it was generally something attributed to the Aquitaine line, thanks to their ability to draw on the power of all four elements.” She shrugged. “It’s part of the reason why the Aquitaines and the De Montforts were—for a few brief centuries—all but interchangeable.”
Only Mo would ever describe centuries as being “brief.” “And that is yet another snippet of information you’ve not imparted before now.”
“I haven’t?” she said, feigning innocence. “How remiss of me.”
I rolled my eyes. “What about the Blackbirds? Given they were responsible for the safety of the royal house, did that lead to a liaison or two?”
“Sexual shenanigans undoubtedly happened with Aquitaine queens but the Blackbirds were only ever male.”
“That doesn’t mean a liaison or two couldn’t have happened with a king. Homosexuality was around back then, you know.”
“Of course it was, but the Blackbirds were, as a general rule, highly ethical, and having a relationship with the man you were supposed to be protecting would have betrayed said ethics.”
I reached for another sandwich. “But having a relationship with his Queen didn’t?”
“Apparently not.” Her eyes sparkled wickedly. “I’m sure you could break down his barriers if you wish. You are, after all, my granddaughter.”
“Thanks, but I’m not that interested in the man.” I ignored her sharp laugh of disbelief. “If there was such a crossover between De Montforts and the Aquitaines way back in the dark ages, is it at all possible that Max could be one of the heirs?”
Mo hesitated, indecision briefly flaring through her expression. Before I could ask why, she said, “It is, although the link between the two houses was severed long before Uhtric was crowned.”
Which did not preclude the possibility that Max could be a very distant heir. “What about the Okoros?”
“Also possible—especially given Queen Eleanor’s grandmother was an Okoro. Not from the Ainslyn branch, though.”
“Are any of these distant heirs up Jackie’s way?”
“One Okoro, plus a couple of brothers who are descendants of Uhtric’s older sister.”
“Why is Jackie looking after them rather than the Blackbirds?”
Mo shrugged. “She’s an Aquitaine scholar and history professor. She likes knowing these sorts of things.”
There was more to it than that, of that I was sure. I drained the last bit of my tea and then rose. “I’ll close things up and do the till if you want to head upstairs and get ready.”
She nodded, picked up another sandwich, and then hobbled toward the stairs. I walked across to the door to flip the Open sign over and then lock the door. It didn’t take long to do the day’s takings—although sales had been a little better than I’d presumed. Once I’d locked it in the safe, I headed upstairs to get ready for the flight.
Mo was already waiting in Max’s room. “Bit of a mess, isn’t it? I’ve a right mind to text him and tell him off. If he wants to live in a brothel, he can get his own place.”
I smiled and tossed my daggers onto the bed. I’d tied the sheaths together and created a small loop at the top to make carrying them a little easier. “I’ve already done that. He said he couldn’t find something he needed and then didn’t have time to restore order afterward.”
Mo harrumphed. “Poor excuse. You ready?”
I nodded and motioned her to proceed. Once she’d shifted shape and flown out of the window, I did the same, sweeping up the daggers on my way through.
Jackie lived in Amble, a small seaside town in Northumberland. It was far quicker to fly there than it would have been to drive, but the effort of carrying my daggers had weariness beating through me by the time we arrived. Mo was luckier—Einar was stone, so at least the shifting magic was able to incorporate the blade in the same manner as it did her clothes.
We swept over the small town, heading toward the coast and the North Sea, then circled down toward an old graveyard and shifted shape behind a weird, A-shaped stone gateway that led precisely nowhere.
I strapped on my daggers, then glanced around. As areas went, it wasn’t particularly inviting. But then, we were standing in a cemetery. “Where’s Jackie’s house?”
“Across the road.”
Meaning the small pebbledash bungalow that was all but dwarfed by its newer-looking two
-story neighbors. The grass in the front yard was longish, the bare rosebushes lining the timber fence in need of a prune, and there was smoke drifting from a small chimney. “She may be a scholar, but she’s not much of a gardener, is she?”
“No.” Mo’s voice was uneasy. “I’m not liking the feel of this, Gwen.”
My gaze shot back to the house. I couldn’t feel anything untoward, but then, I likely wouldn’t, given the lack of magical ability. “How do you want to play this?”
Mo hesitated, her gaze sweeping the surrounding area for a second. Other than a woman on a motor scooter driving toward us on the footpath, there was little movement and few sounds beyond the crashing of waves on the shoreline behind us.
“You jump the fence and go in through the back. I’ll distract them from the front.”
“Them?” One hand automatically found a knife hilt.
“Yeah. There’s someone else in there.”
“Then you be careful.”
A smile touched her lips. “You too, darling girl. Meet you in the middle.”
I jogged across the road, then waited a second or two for the old woman on the motor scooter to drive past before I jumped the front fence and clambered over the taller, secondary fence. The back yard was neater than the front, and featured a small clothesline, a paved dining area, and more roses sitting against the fence that divided the bungalow from its taller neighbors. Magic floated in the air, but the glittering strings were little more than the remnants of a protection spell that had been smashed open.
I ducked under the open single window and walked to the back door. It wasn’t locked, and the door opened into a small galley kitchen.
I drew Nex, then took a deep breath and stepped inside.
The first scent I noticed was thick and metallic.
Blood. And not just a little bit.
The second was more acidic, and so strong my skin crawled.
Mo was wrong.
There wasn’t someone else here.
There was something.
A goddamn demon.
Five
I drew Vita and, gripping both daggers tightly, padded quietly through the kitchen, keeping out of the light filtering in through the window above the kitchen sink to avoid creating an unwanted shadow. The scent of blood and demon grew stronger near the sliding door that led into the next room, and I paused, waiting for Mo to create her distraction. The smack of flesh against flesh filled the air, and the desire to run in and stop the bastard surged. But I had no idea how many demons were in that room, no idea if they’d set all this up as a trap, and no desire to find out the hard way.
A heartbeat later, knuckles rapped sharply on glass; the sound echoed through the small bungalow. It was swiftly followed by the scrabble of claws on floorboards.
The demon, on the run.
I darted out of the kitchen, caught a quick glimpse of bloody, broken flesh before spotting the demon’s tail disappearing into the room opposite—the same room that had the open window.
I swore and bolted after it. Flames flickered down Nex and Vita’s sharp blades, as if in anticipation, and the stench of the demon grew stronger, catching in my throat and making me gag. I slid around the door and saw it half in, half out of the window. Why it thought that was a good idea given sunlight would kill it, I had no idea—and no intention of discovering whether it was carrying some form of light protection.
I raised Nex and Vita and slapped their blades together. Lightning shot out, twin forks that turned brown scaly flesh into ash in a matter of seconds. As the soot of his remains drifted to the carpet, I sheathed both daggers and half turned to walk out, and then caught sight of something gleaming against the wall under the window. I frowned and walked over.
It was a ring. A shiny, blue-stone ring.
I bent to pick it up, but evil prickled across my skin, and I sharply withdrew my fingers. Instead, I slid Nex’s tip through its center then lifted it up. Flames ran down the blade and surrounded the ring, flaring brighter for several seconds. Once they’d died down, the stone looked dull. Whatever evil had lain within it had obviously been rendered inert.
I slipped it into my palm then resheathed Nex and closed the window. By the time I walked back into the living room, Mo was kneeling down next to the bloody figure lying on the living room floor.
“How is she?”
Mo glanced up, her face drawn but her expression furious. “Unconscious, but alive. Her leg was shattered, and it had punctured the artery. I’ve healed them both, but I’ve still her arm and smashed cheek to go.”
If she did both of those, she’d end up in hospital too—and wouldn’t care, I knew. “No internal injuries?”
“No, thank god. The severed artery was dangerous enough.”
“You want me to call the police and an ambulance?”
“Already have. What happened to the demon?”
“Ashed him.”
“Good, although I would have liked to know what he damn well wanted.”
“He obviously wasn’t sent here to kill her. Not straight away, at least.” I offered her the ring. “He left this behind.”
She plucked it from my fingers and sucked in a breath. “I haven’t seen one of these for decades.”
“What is it?”
“It’s an oath ring—one that usually binds one or more demons to a dark practitioner.”
“That makes sense, because that demon certainly wasn’t responsible for breaking the spells around this place.”
“No. And yet I didn’t see or sense the presence of another witch.” She rolled the ring across her fingertips. “What color was the demon?”
“Brown.”
“It’s unusual for such a demon to be bound by an oath ring. They’re basically little more than for-hire thugs and their services can be bought by as little as a few gold pieces.”
A smile touched my lips. “There’re not many witches around these days who have easy access to a stash of gold coins.”
Her gaze flashed to mine. “You know what I mean.”
I nodded. “Why would a witch—even one with a darker bent—risk throwing their lot in with demons?”
She shrugged. “If your intent is thuggery, then it’s one way of getting it done without personal blowback.”
I snorted. “Unless, of course, another witch catches the whiff of demon on you.”
“There are ways and means of neutralizing such scents, as you well know.” She shoved the ring into her pocket. “Can you check the rest of the house before the cops get here? It’d be good to know if the place was searched before Jackie was beaten up.”
I skirted the two of them and moved across to the door that led into a small hallway. The layout of the house was pretty basic—there was a bedroom, a bathroom, and this living room to the right of the front door, while two more bedrooms and the kitchen lay on the left. I walked into the smaller of the two rooms in this section of the house. There was a double bed against one wall and a wardrobe to the right of the door. The small window opposite looked out to a wooden fence and let little light in, thanks to the proximity of the terrace house next door. I walked over to the wardrobe and opened it. Inside was an assortment of clothes, coats, and shoes. I opened a couple of the boxes sitting at the base of the robe but found nothing except knickknacks. I closed the doors and scanned the room again, but nothing here even remotely tugged at my instincts.
I spun and walked up the hall to the next room. I’d been expecting a master bedroom, but it was in fact a study. A long, antique-looking desk sat under the window, and the other three walls were lined with bookcases stacked to the brim with books.
I went across to the desk and shuffled through the papers. One of them was a half-finished Okoro genealogical tree, with a list of names to one side. Some of them had been crossed out and placed in the tree, while others had yet to be moved. Max’s name was at the bottom, with Gareth, Henry, and someone named Jules listed above him.
Ginny’s brothers, I noted, w
ere not on the side list, which was rather odd considering her mom and mine were sisters.
I briefly scanned the rest of the names, but none of them were familiar.
Why was Jackie bothering to trace the Okoro line? Even if there was a distant connection, surely if she was looking for the true heir—and given her connection to Mo, that was indeed likely—it would have made more sense to study either the Aquitaine or Valeriun bloodlines? All of the direct heirs would have to be killed before the names listed here would be in any danger.
But why were Gareth and Henry on the list? As far as I knew, neither their mom nor grandmother had any Okoro connection. I skimmed the tree and saw that their great-grandmother’s parents were Valeriun and Okoro.
Given they’d both been placed above Max and the unknown Jules, that surely meant that link back to the Aquitaines was stronger than Mom’s.
I tucked the papers into my pocket and then went through the rest of them. Most were end-of-term history papers on English royalty in need of grading. There were, I noted in amusement, going to be some failures amongst them.
The drawers on the left side of the desk held various bits of stationery, and the ones on the right were locked. I half thought about forcing them open, but given the age of the desk, didn’t think it would be appreciated. Especially when Mo could magic it open within a second.
I walked over to the nearest bookshelf and then scanned it to see if there was anything a demon might have wanted. They were mostly the generic type of history books you’d find in college libraries, although the bookcase on the back wall held a number of more ancient-looking tomes. One of them snagged at my instincts. I carefully reached up and slid it out. I couldn’t read the title thanks to the fact it was Latin, but there was what I presumed was a handwritten translation just inside the cover that said “The Fables of Kings from the Time of Swords.” I carefully flicked through. It was exquisitely and lavishly decorated, the vellum pages inked with gold and bright, beautiful illustrations.
There were a couple of names I recognized, including Uhtric himself. Interestingly, the sword he carried in the illustration was not the one currently buried in the stone, as it was far plainer. An everyday sword, perhaps. Uhtric was also the last entry in the book, although there were blank pages following his section, so maybe it was simply never finished.
