The Bitter Seed of Magic

Chapter Thirteen

‘Helen’s son, of course,’ Victoria Harrier said, ‘the one Mr Panos was talking about. Like me, Helen Crane is from a powerful witch family; she was chosen to marry a wizard, but instead she— Well, Helen developed an infatuation with some boy, and in the age-old way she found herself pregnant. The boy apparently took fright at the responsibility, and once Helen’s son was born, her family, backed by the Witches’ Council and the Foundation, agreed she should give him up to the sidhe.’

I frowned. ‘But her son was still a wizard?’

‘One with no significant family connections. So you see, she’s not looked upon kindly by the Foundation.’

Part of me was starting to feel some reluctant sympathy for the teenage Helen, if not the current one. Another part of me was still trying to assess just what Victoria Harrier’s true priorities were.

‘I hope that reassures you, Ms Taylor, that I have your best interests at heart when it comes to dealing with any problems you might meet, especially if they pertain to the fertility curse. I have my grandchildren to consider.’

There was still something not quite right about what she was saying; I just couldn’t pin down what it was.

‘Now,’ she said, ‘I understand that despite not being able to tell us why, you are convinced that “Jane Bird’s” death is to do with the curse?’

‘Yes.’ Damn goddess and her gag clause.

‘And of course, I understand your reluctance to leave the investigation of “Jane Bird’s” tragic death to the police, so I will do all I can to help you with it. The sooner her cause of death is discovered and settled, the sooner you’ll be free to move onto other more certain solutions to stop the curse.’

The penny finally dropped, with a loud splash. She didn’t just want to help; she was a fully paid-up member of the ‘get the sidhe pregnant’ brigade. And with her daughter-in-law being part water fae …

‘Let me guess. Lady Meriel is one of your connections in the magical community?’

She leaned forwards and patted my knee in what I was supposed to believe was motherly concern. ‘Lady Meriel appreciates that it is only natural for you to be worried about having a child under the circumstances, and that you are not going to make the decision to become pregnant until you’ve exhausted all other avenues. If I can help expedite those avenues for you, maybe it will make the final decision easier and quicker for you.’

The limo slowed to a halt and I glanced out the window. Trafalgar Square again. The driver had to be deliberately going in circles so Victoria Harrier could take her time talking to me on Lady Meriel’s behalf. Figured. Absently I scowled at the crowd of tourists gathered round one of huge bronze lions. They were roaring with laughter at the pixie pack dancing a jig along the lion’s broad back. Automatically, I made a mental note: about a dozen of them. Another week and Trafalgar Square would be overrun and the council would be calling Spellcrackers to banish them. Pixies are sort of ugly-cute, even if they are a pain to catch, and I always got the job— Except this time I wouldn’t. Not now I’d resigned. A sick feeling roiled in my stomach. But it wasn’t only the loss of my job making me feel ill, it was the goddess’ command: You will give them a new life.

If the fae knew that, I’d probably end up pregnant within the hour. Now that was a scary thought. But they didn’t, and ironically, it was thanks to the goddess’ totally wonderful gag clause.

I grimaced and turned back to Victoria Harrier. ‘In that case, why don’t we start by looking into those other avenues now, seeing as I’m not going anywhere?’ I said, drily, and settled back against the seat—it was either that or force my way out of the limo. I was saving that option for later.

‘Perfect.’ She pulled a notepad and pen towards her, unable to hide the hint of triumph in her eyes. ‘Lady Meriel is concerned at the lack of information available to her. I’m told the kelpie, Tavish, who lives in the Thames has been absent since Hallowe’en. The consensus of opinion is that he’s gone to the Fair Lands to speak to Queen Clíona on your behalf. Has he had any success?’

‘Not that I’ve heard.’

She made a note. ‘I understand that your father is a vampire; have any of the fae commented that this could cause a problem, or made any objections?’

I frowned. ‘Why does Lady Meriel want to know that?’

She blinked at me as if surprised I was asking, then tapped her pen and said firmly, ‘Please answer the question, Ms Taylor.’

‘As far as I know they don’t care,’ I said slowly, curious as to what was going on.

‘Good.’ She made another note and underlined it. ‘Now, I think we should talk about your 3V infection.’ A vaguely familiar gleam lit her eyes for a moment, sending an uneasy tingle down my spine.

‘Well, it’s not exactly a secret any more, but I’m not sure it’s any more relevant than your last question.’

‘I believe it’s relevant to you, Ms Taylor. You have stated your reasons for not wanting a child are because of possible implications for the child’s future, an entirely understandable and commendable concern.’ She nodded in approval. ‘But as I told you, Ana, my daughter-in-law, also has 3V; she controls it using G-Zav’—the vamp junkies’ methadone—‘yet Ana is } expecting her sixth child—her sixth healthy child—and I can reassure you that all of my grandchildren are completely clear of 3V: there’s no sign of V1 , V2 or V3 in their blood at all. 3V is not passed on from mother to child in the womb. She’d be delighted to chat to you about it all, and it might help to put your mind at rest.’

‘I volunteer at HOPE,’ I said, ‘and believe me, it’s not the physical implications that worry …’ I trailed off as the picture of her happy, smiling, very pregnant daughter-in-law came back to me, and several things hit me at once. She had 3V. She was faeling. She was on G-Zav, had been for at least ten years—and while she wouldn’t have quite the same problems using G-Zav as a full-blood fae would, that was a major feat in itself. The only place she could get G-Zav was HOPE, and if any faeling was a regular there, I’d know them.

And I didn’t know her.

My tingle of unease grew fangs and took a bite out of me. I looked around the plush car at the expensive equipment: wealth and power and magic are as attractive to vamps as blood. This family had it all … and it was beginning to look like there was a distinct possibility there was a blood-sucking fanged cuckoo squatting in their well-feathered family nest. Not only that: I now realised what had been bothering me about Victoria Harrier and her faeling daughter-in-law. Witches and wizards were fanatical about their magical human lineages. Marrying a faeling would be well out of a wizard’s comfort zone.

‘Something’s worrying you now, isn’t it, Ms Taylor?’ Victoria Harrier’s probing question focused my attention back on her, and on the familiar gleam in her eyes.

‘Yes, it is,’ I said. As she waited expectantly, I decided to test my theory and called my own magic. It uncurled from my centre, up and out into my fingers, dusting them with a golden glow. I reached out and clasped her face, pushing the golden magic into her as soon as our skin touched. She jerked with surprise, then relaxed into smiling compliance, her pupils lighting with pinpricks of gold as she succumbed easily to my Glamour.

Too easily.

Glamouring someone isn’t much different from a vamp mind-lock: the aim of both is to control the victim. Vamp mind-locks can be like magical Rohypnol—more humans end up as a quick snatch-and-suck than you’d think; they just don’t remember. Add in a side order of vamp mesma along with the mind-lock and vamps can play pick and mix with their victims’ senses and emotions, making them believe anything for a time. But siccing a mind-lock on a human outside of licensed premises is illegal, and can end in a one-way trip to the guillotine. I sincerely doubted Victoria Harrier, a well-known witch, had ever set foot inside a vamp club, licensed or otherwise.

Of course, Glamouring a human was just as illegal and carried the same sharp-edged consequences.

The hair at my nape rose in an ominous and not-so-subtle reminder of that as I gazed into Victoria’s adoring, Glamoured eyes. Tentatively, I checked the tangled net of her mind, dusting it with golden magic, and found just what that familiar gleam in her eyes had told me I would: a looping skein of hard blackness, worn smooth and even like a well-trodden path. No wonder she had succumbed so quickly; she was pre-programmed. Whoever the vamp was, he or she had been reinforcing their commands for years, which wasn’t a mind-shattering discovery after hearing the daughter-in-law’s history. But trying to remove the command would be mind-shattering; it was too deeply embedded. The much simpler option was to remove the vamp, but that was a job for later. For now, though, I just needed to take my Glamour back without disturbing anything.

As I started to retreat, Victoria whimpered in distress and I stopped, fearing that despite being so careful, I’d overloaded her with Glamour. I started to pull back again, slower this time, feathering the magic and letting it trail gently from her mind. She moaned, a low sound of pleasure that echoed inside me, and her pupils expanded into bright orbs of gold. Fascinated, I leaned towards her and placed my lips on hers, tasting the adoration in her exhaled breath, drawing in the sweetness of that devotion, pulling the energy of her adulation into my own body and feeling it hit with a hot jolt of electric bliss that was both more than and less than sexual. I gasped against her mouth, trembling with the urge to pour my magic into her, to fill her until her mind worshipped only me, until her heart beat only for me, to take her and make her mine, and mine alone—

I stilled, my mouth on hers, my hands cupping her face, savouring the delicious sensations as I teetered on the edge of temptation. Some part of me knew this was wrong, very, very wrong, but there was another, deeper part of me that said this was what I needed … I pressed my lips against hers again, sighed, and drew my hands and my magic reluctantly away as I followed the smooth path made by the vampire.

She moaned again, and this time I settled back in my own seat, my eyes fixed on the tinted windows and the world outside, giving her the semblance of privacy as her body surrendered to the commands entrenched in her mind, the ones my own magical invasion had triggered and curiously enhanced.

I caught a glimpse of Nelson’s Column in the distance. We were still trundling luxuriously along in the traffic, the driver obliviously going round and round in circles until he was given the signal to take me home.

‘So, Ms Taylor, what do you say now you’ve had time to think about my suggestion?’ Victoria Harrier asked.

I turned to find her sitting straight-backed, a slight flush to her cheeks, as calmly as if nothing untoward had happened. Of course, in her mind it hadn’t.

‘You know,’ I said slowly, ‘I think you might have a point about my 3V infection. I truly hadn’t thought about it in those terms before. Maybe I should speak to your daughter-in-law.’

She gave a pleased smile. ‘We can visit Ana now if you like.’ She gestured out the limo’s window. ‘She lives in Trafalgar Square with her grandfather, the fossegrim.’

Ana’s grandfather was the fossegrim? Shit—the old water fae was supposed to be totally and utterly insane. I’d been warned to stay away from him when I’d taken my first pixie eviction job for Spellcrackers. He’d come over from Norway with the very first Christmas tree after the Second World War: he’d been in love with the tree’s dryad and she’d died fighting in the Resistance. He’d been half-mad with grief, until he met a new lady love—but then he’d lost her too, to the curse. He’d gone on a killing spree in revenge, then holed up in the square’s fountains, where he’d been ever since. Ousting a blood-sucking fanged cuckoo out of their family nest was one thing, but no way did I want to run into the fossegrim, not without some sort of magical protection.

I gave Victoria Harrier a wary smile. ‘Okay,’ I agreed, backpeddling fast, ‘but I think we’d better leave the socialising until after we’ve seen the ravens.’ And after I’ve had chance to check things out and come up with … some sort of plan.

‘Perfect,’ Victoria Harrier said, with a satisfied expression. ‘I’ll arrange it for tomorrow. Now how about we get you home, Ms Taylor.’