‘Not so bad,’ Paul was replying to Maddie and his tone was impressively even. ‘I can see you’ve been keeping busy.’
‘I was very clear,’ Maddie said, flicking her gaze back to Lydia. ‘You can’t be showing up at my work. You want to see me, you call. Okay?’
‘Maria Silver commissioned me to find that cup,’ Lydia said, pleased with how steady her voice sounded. ‘I swear. I didn’t know you would be here.’
Something fluttered behind Maddie’s flat eyes. ‘You’re helping the Silvers?’
‘Not helping. Doing a job. A return favour.’
‘Charlie was in Alejandro’s pocket, but I never thought you would be the same…’ Maddie looked disgusted. ‘And what’s our old squeeze doing here? Looking for a threesome?’
Lydia didn’t look at Paul and she didn’t give him time to respond, either. ‘I’m not in Maria’s pocket. Just trying to keep the peace. That’s all I want.’
At once, Maddie was toe to toe with Lydia, her face unnervingly close. Lydia had blinked and missed her moving. Her speed was breath-taking. And terrifying. Her breath was warm on Lydia’s skin and she could smell her perfume, fighting against the metallic tang of the blood. Still no Crow, though. Not even the tiniest taste of feather. What had her cousin done? ‘Don’t you get bored of peace?’
Lydia swallowed, feeling every part of the movement. ‘No.’
Maddie’s eyes were searching her own. Looking for what, Lydia hadn’t the faintest idea.
‘Liar,’ she said, eventually, stepping back. She picked up the cup and Lydia winced.
‘What?’ Maddie had caught Lydia’s reaction.
‘I don’t know how you can touch it so easily,’ Lydia said. She had no idea if being honest with Maddie was sensible, but with the waves of Silver coming from the cup and the man slumped in a pool of blood and the terror of being this close to Maddie, Lydia had no room for strategic thinking. ‘It makes me feel ill. The Silver.’
‘The silver?’ Maddie frowned. ‘I didn’t know you were allergic to silver.’
‘Not the metal,’ Lydia said. ‘It’s full of Silver power. I can feel it. It’s enchanted.’
Maddie laughed, disbelieving. Lydia understood how she felt. She had had the same reaction initially. ‘An enchanted cup? This isn’t a fairy story.’
‘I am aware,’ Lydia said drily. ‘Nonetheless.’
‘And you don’t like it?’
‘Not particularly. It’s giving out a bright silver flavour. And a light. It makes my head hurt.’
‘That’s your thing?’
‘That’s her thing,’ Paul chimed in. ‘Lame, right?’ He had put a hand on the small of Lydia’s back and she felt his warning. Don’t be so interesting. Don’t engage the crazy killing machine.
‘Yeah,’ Lydia said. ‘I sense Family power. It can be useful, but it’s not very exciting.’
Maddie shifted. ‘Oh, come now. Don’t be so modest. I know what you’re doing.’
‘I’m not doing-’
‘You think that if you play possum, I’ll think you’re dead already. It won’t work,’ Maddie nudged the dead man’s leg with her foot. ‘Just ask this guy.’
Sirens sounded, suddenly, approaching.
‘That’s my cue,’ Maddie said, stepping away. She paused. ‘You could come with.’
‘No, thank you.’ Lydia was still struggling to hold on to consciousness.
‘Suit yourself,’ Maddie said. ‘I won’t keep asking nicely, though.’
At least, Lydia thought she heard Maddie say those words, but the darkness had crowded in from the edges of her vision until it filled her mind completely. Her stomach lurched as she fell and then there was nothing.
* * *
When she came round, the room was filled with police and there was no sign of Paul. A woman Lydia knew was senior from her commanding tone, was issuing orders and a paramedic was crouched next to her, fiddling with the straps on a back board.
‘I’m fine,’ Lydia said, starting to sit up.
‘Stay down,’ the paramedic said, placing hands on her shoulders. ‘Don’t move. We’re going to lift you onto the board. Okay? One, two, three.’
‘I don’t need-’
‘It’s all right, we’ve got you. You’re fine.’
Lydia wanted to say ‘I know I’m fine, that what I’m telling you’ but she decided to save her breath. The woman was clearly on a mission and Lydia was already being lifted onto the board. She closed her eyes and concentrated on taking slow breaths through her nose. The swaying motion of being carried, along with the natural terror of being strapped down, was making her feel sick. ‘Let me up,’ she said, eyes open and pulse racing. Something was wrong. Someone was there. Danger, her brain was saying. Get up. Get out. Fly.
‘Shit,’ she heard a muffled stream of swearing as her body lurched down.
‘It’s okay,’ a familiar voice. Fleet came into view above her. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘I’m fine,’ Lydia managed, suffused with sudden relief. He was back. Fleet was back. ‘They won’t listen.’
‘Let her up,’ Fleet said.
The straps were undone and Lydia sat up, rubbing her arms, and then got herself upright. The world tilted and she had to swallow hard to stop herself throwing up. She squeezed her coin for strength and waved the paramedic away. ‘Thank you. I’m okay.’
‘This is against my official advice,’ the woman said, giving Fleet an extra frown.
He nodded, calm and unflappable. ‘Noted.’ He ducked his head to look into Lydia’s eyes. ‘Are you all right? Did you hit your head?’
‘You’re back,’ Lydia drank in the sight of Fleet. Tall, dark and beautiful. Here.
‘I’m back. Now, answer the question. Did you hit your head? Black out?’
‘I’m fine. She was here.’
‘It could be a concussion. Let me take you to A&E to get you checked out.’
She scanned the room. The dead man was on the ground, three SOC officers were securing the scene and the silver cup had disappeared along with Maddie. ‘Hell Hawk.’
‘You want to tell me what happened?’
‘Of course, Officer,’ Lydia said, letting Fleet know that she was going to give him the official version.
He nodded very slightly, indicating his understanding, and Lydia proceeded to give him a sanitised version of events, light on the details and even lighter on the truth.
* * *
Back at The Fork, after making Lydia sit on the sofa and drink a cup of sweet tea even though she had asked for coffee, Fleet undid his tie and slumped next to her. He looked exhausted.
‘It was Maddie.’
He took it pretty well. Just raising his eyes to the ceiling for a brief moment.
‘She has the cup.’
Fleet nodded. ‘At least that makes sense.’
‘You’re being very calm.’
‘You spoke to Maddie?’
‘Briefly, yeah.’
‘And you’re still breathing and in one piece. That’s cause for celebration.’ His lips quirked into a smile.
‘She took the cup. I’m guessing that’s the real reason she’s in London.’
Frustration broke through Fleet’s calm exterior. ‘I don’t care about the bloody cup.’
Lydia paused in acknowledgement of his outburst. She took one of his hands in hers and squeezed gently. ‘It’s important. If I don’t bring it back to Maria, she might break our truce. It’s pretty shaky.’
‘Wasn’t the deal that you find it? You found it.’
Lydia smiled. ‘That’s definitely my planned argument, but I don’t think it will fly. Do you?’
He breathed in deeply through his nose and passed a hand over his face. ‘No.’
‘So that means I need to get it back.’
‘How are you so calm?’
Because I know I’m going to die.
She couldn’t say that, so she made up something else about having a plan. About not giving up. Luckily,
Fleet was used to her pig-headed determination, and he didn’t bat an eyelid.
* * *
That night they slept wrapped around each other and Lydia needed every centimetre of contact. His scent, his presence, and the Fleet signature of waves on a beach, salted air and a fire crackling in the dark. She needed all of it. Felt like she could finally breathe. The stubborn part of her had wanted to be angry over the last week, to rail at him for leaving her at this time of crisis, but it had been a token effort. She had just been worried. And missing him. And wanting him back, safe and whole and hers. If there was anything important, he would tell her. She knew it. And, although she fully expected to dream of Maddie drenched in blood and smiling like a kid with an ice cream, she fell into a peaceful blackness, feather soft and mercifully quiet.
Chapter Twenty
Early the next morning, Lydia woke with the realisation that Fleet was already awake. He had his arms crossed behind his head and was staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. She propped up on one elbow to kiss him good morning. He still looked exhausted, grey shadows under his eyes.
‘Couldn’t you sleep?’
‘I’m all right.’
That wasn’t an answer, but Lydia didn’t press him. She knew very well what it was like to have bad dreams and, sometimes, you just didn’t want to talk about them. Didn’t want to bring them into the day with you.
Once they were up and eating toast on the sofa, Lydia’s legs over his, he rubbed a hand over his face and gave her a serious look. ‘If I tell you something, you have to promise not to do anything stupid.’
‘You know me,’ Lydia said.
‘I do,’ Fleet said. ‘So I need you to promise.’
‘Define stupid,’ Lydia said, aiming for a little levity.
Fleet raised his eyebrows in response.
‘Fine,’ Lydia said. ‘I promise. Spill it.’
‘I made a deal with Sinclair to get information.’
‘I told you, no more deals…’
‘I made the deal, not you,’ Fleet said. ‘You aren’t a part of it, I promise. We needed information and this was the only way to get it. I did it for you.’
Lydia forced herself to shut up and listen.
‘The project being run by your agent has been wound up. Nobody really believed that the Families were any kind of threat. Bedtime stories and some good PR. They didn’t think it was a good use of the budget, and I can believe that. Everything in my work has to be justified with finance allocation docs, they would have had a hard time funding research into magic.’
‘So it’s definitely just Mr Smith?’
Fleet shrugged. ‘I mean, he might have some acolytes, fellow believers, but from an official point of view, yes. Mr Smith was a one-man crusade within the service and the Families his pet project. With global terrorism and fears over Russian interference in politics taking the headlines, it’s not such a surprise. Organised crime on our home turf is important, of course, but it’s left to the NCA.’
The National Crime Agency definitely had a dossier on the Crows. Organised crime was their area and back in the bad old days, the Crows kept them sweet with well-placed bribes. At least, that was what Lydia assumed. It was all ancient history, as far as she was concerned. ‘What about the NCA? I don’t think we’ve been doing anything serious enough to pull their attention. Charlie wasn’t squeaky clean but it was small time, really.’ A thought hit her. ‘Unless they were interested in the rumours. The power stuff. That might have drawn them to Mr Smith. Could they have been working with Mr Smith’s department? His project?’
‘Not as far as anyone knows,’ Fleet said. ‘According to Sinclair, your man Smith has a personal obsession. She showed me some of his departmental files and they were really something.’
‘Don’t tell me he had a Crow shrine with pictures of me with the eyes cut out.’
‘Don’t joke,’ Fleet said. ‘He’s been collecting for years. The company, JRB, you know he took it over in 2001 when it went from being a family firm to the corporation we know and love. There was a copy of the contract in the file, the agreement with the Pearls? It seems it was the closest he could get to owning them. And he’s been searching for the Silver cup. He’s got Charlie, and he wanted you to add to the collection. Plus, he has a few other artifacts in storage. A coat that belonged to the Foxes back in the eighteen hundreds and some pearls that may or may not be connected with the Pearl Family. His notes recorded some uncertainty.’
‘I bet he wanted me to take a look, see if they were the real deal.’
‘Probably,’ Fleet agreed. ‘But the main thing is that his department at the service really does just boil down to him. It doesn’t go further in any meaningful way, which means we just need to neutralise one man.’
‘So he bought JRB in order to acquire the contract with the Pearls? And he’s the sole director, now?’
Fleet passed his phone over and Lydia swiped through the images until she found the articles of incorporation for JRB. Lots of legal language and a name which rang a faint bell. Oliver Gale.
Fleet was looking over her shoulder. ‘That’s your man Smith’s real name. Sinclair confirmed it.’
‘If you trust Sinclair. What would stop her from lying or only showing you some of the file and not the whole picture? She could be working with Mr Smith. She could be part of his department.’ Lydia knew she sounded paranoid, but she felt like it was more than warranted.
Fleet shook his head.
‘You really trust her?’
Fleet held her gaze. ‘I do.’
Lydia wanted to just believe him. Fleet was an excellent judge of character, a talented copper with a nose for bullshit and a gleam which had been giving him an edge of precognition his whole life. Still. It was too important. And Lydia couldn’t take anything at face value, it just wasn’t the way she was wired. ‘Why are you so sure she isn’t stringing you along? Why would she give you the goods?’
Fleet touched her arm. ‘Because I traded.’
‘I don’t…’
‘If the information doesn’t pan out, she doesn’t get my offering and, trust me, she really wants it.’
‘What is it?’
Fleet grimaced very briefly. A quick expression which Lydia almost missed. Almost. She felt cold. ‘What? What did you offer to give Sinclair?’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
Lydia waited a beat. ‘You’re not going to tell me?’
‘Best not,’ he said, looking away.
‘Yeah, that’s not going to work this time.’
Fleet closed his eyes. ‘I went to see my father.’
Lydia kept her mouth shut, waiting.
‘Well, I went to find my father. Wasn’t sure I would manage… It’s been a while.’
The silence stretched on and Lydia reached for his hand. ‘Did you find him?’
He nodded slightly, eyes still closed.
‘What did he give you that Sinclair wanted?’
Fleet opened his eyes and looked at Lydia with clear anguish. ‘I can’t talk about this. I’m sorry. I just can’t.’
Lydia couldn’t stand the pain in his eyes. She put her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder. ‘It’s okay.’ If there was one thing she understood, it was not wanting to verbalise something difficult.
‘There’s something else,’ he pulled back to look into her eyes. ‘Sinclair showed me Maddie’s file, too. She’s a stone-cold psycho.’
‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ Lydia said.
‘I’m serious,’ Fleet said. ‘You need to stay away from her. You have no idea what she is capable of.’
‘I’m not exactly looking to braid her hair,’ Lydia said. ‘But she’s on my patch.’
‘I have a friend, a psychologist I know through work. Will you speak to her?’
‘You want me to see a shrink?’
‘No. I thought it would be useful to know more about Maddie. Maybe it would help to predict her behaviour.’
&
nbsp; * * *
Lydia messaged Emma and watched for the blue ticks which showed she had read it. A reply came back quickly that all was well. Next, Lydia rang Paul. ‘All quiet,’ he said. ‘Nobody sniffing around.’
‘Thank you,’ Lydia said. ‘But I wanted to check on you after yesterday. Did you get away all right?’
‘Little Bird,’ Paul said, his voice shooting unwanted feelings through her body. Damn Fox. ‘Are we becoming best friends?’
‘In your dreams,’ Lydia said. ‘But you are doing me a favour. And I don’t wish Maddie on my worst enemy.’
His voice went serious. ‘She’s changed.’
‘You felt it, too?’
‘I could see it. Something is broken in that woman. And the way she was looking at you… You need to be careful.’
‘I am,’ Lydia said. ‘I’m not an idiot.’
‘I didn’t leave until she had, wasn’t sure what she would do once you were taking a nap.’
‘Thank you,’ Lydia said with genuine gratitude. ‘But I know my cousin. I know how to handle her.’
‘You were out cold, you didn’t see her face. She looked hungry.’
Lydia felt a fission on pleasure. It was nice to be wanted.
‘And she kissed you on her way out.’
‘What?’
‘On the forehead. She didn’t even look at me.’
In usual circumstances Lydia would have said something arch like ‘jealous?’ but Paul had watched over her until the psycho had left the flat so she kept her lip buttoned.
‘You need to stay away from her. She is way too interested, and it’s only going to end one way.’
‘I know,’ Lydia said. She didn’t want to talk about Maddie anymore. ‘I’ve got something for you. You know that company, JRB? It turns out there’s one main driver behind their activities. A spook with a hard-on for us all.’
‘That sounds uncomfortable.’
The Shadow Wing Page 15
