The Cold Kiss of Death

Chapter Twenty-Five

Helen Crane’s blood had been used to open a gate between London and the Fair Lands, a gate that led to her child—a child she’d given to the sidhe. A changeling, then. What was I supposed to do, ring her up and say, ‘Hi, Helen, I know we’re not best buddies or anything, but hey, just heard you’ve got a long-lost kid, one that’s off in the Fair Lands, and guess what? Someone’s using your blood connection to let the murderer come through—any ideas who that might be?’

And I could just imagine the superior look on her beautiful, patrician face as she replied, ‘Well, that’s very interesting, Ms Taylor, but isn’t this the murder we suspect you’re responsible for? The one I’m investigating? And not that it’s relevant, but don’t you think I’d know if someone had used my blood?’

Damn. Whichever way I looked at this, it didn’t get any better.

Helen liked me even less than Grianne did, and she had even less incentive to listen to me, thanks to our butting heads over Finn—her ex ... and if anyone would know about DI Helen Crane’s long-lost child, her ex should. Okay, so they’d only had a broom marriage, but even so, seven years and seven days isn’t exactly ships passing. Asking Finn what he knew about it was a way better option that trying to beard a powerful witch in her police den at Old Scotland Yard. Not to mention I’d been planning on seeing him as soon as anyway.

‘Genevieve!’

I jerked my head up at the sound of my name and scanned my surroundings. The street was empty, other than the three costumed actors outside the London Bridge Experience. Beyond them, thirty-odd feet away, was Tavish’s doorway, still propped open for my return, but Tavish hadn’t appeared there, and no one else was near it. I did a quick circle, checking out the steps leading up to the bridge above, and squinting at the bridge parapet—

‘Genevieve,’ the voice came again—

—from the direction of the actors. I frowned at them. The two women were engrossed in their gossiping, but the man was standing off to one side. As I looked, he started shuffling towards me, dragging his feet over the ground. I froze like the proverbial rabbit, pulse jumping in my throat, staring at the sunken eye sockets, the nose eaten away by a sore, the deep cut marring his left cheek ... and as he got closer, I caught the rotten smell of putrefying flesh. The hairs at the nape of my neck lifted in shock. He wasn’t staff; he wasn’t an actor playing the part of a plague victim, but the real thing: Scarface, the ghost who’d kept bumping into Finn’s magic circle.

Adrenalin finally broke through my fear and I started sprinting for Tavish’s doorway on the other side of the bridge.

Scarface jerked and shuffled faster, changing his course to cut me off.

The world narrowed to the gap between ghost and wall.

The women looked up in surprise.

The gap got smaller.

An arm stretched out for me—

A scream lodged in my throat—

—and then I was past him, my lungs burning, nearly there—

—and my foot caught the kerb, sending me sprawling. Sharp grit cut into my palms and my jeans-clad knees. Skeletal fingers snapped at my ankles. I cried out and kicked back, my feet sinking into something soft and fleshy, then I struggled to my feet and, staggering, started running again, crouched over, not daring to look behind me, desperate to reach the doorway and safety. I hit the opening at full pelt and felt the magic resisting me like sticky syrup as bony fingers raked down my back. I screamed again, threw myself forward, not caring for anything except getting away, grabbing for something, anything, to stop him dragging me back ...

I smashed into a hard body and familiar arms wrapped around me, pulling me through, leaving the clawing fingers behind. I huddled against him, hiccoughing and trembling with adrenalin and fear.

‘Sssh,’ he murmured, his breath a soothing warmth over the top of my head as his familiar berry scent curled into me and his reassuring hands stroked my back. ‘It’s okay, Gen, I’ve got you,’ and I felt his lips touch my hair.

I pressed closer to him, instinctively seeking the comfort he was offering, and slipped my arms around his waist, tucking my face into the warm hollow of his neck. He tensed, a brief moment of wariness, then it was gone and I felt his heart beating calm and steady next to my own more frantic thump-thump . His heat seeped into me, calming my trembling. Part of me thought about moving out of his embrace, but I wanted to be there, wanted him to hold me, wanted to be held because I was me, not because I was sidhe, not because of my blood, not because I might break a curse, not because of anything.

A tear rolled down my cheek and I blinked, then before I could stop it another followed it, and another. I started to pull away, squeezing my eyes tight, my cheeks burning with the hot prickle of shame at giving into my stupid, unreasonable fear, but his arms tightened even more.

‘No, Gen,’ Finn said quietly, ‘let me hold you.’

I stayed, letting him hold me, letting the tears fall and listening to the steady beat of his heart while his hands gentled my back and his scent surrounded me. Gradually the tears stopped, and this time when I pulled away he let me, his hands up sliding to rest on my shoulders.

I rubbed my eyes and face and gave him a rueful smile as I briefly touched his damp shirt where it lay open at his throat. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to leak all over you.’

‘Hey, I’m happy to be leaked on.’ He lifted my hands and turned them over, frowning at the almost healed cuts and grazes on both my palms. ‘Want to tell me what’s the matter?’

‘It’s nothing,’ I said, slowly pulling my hands from his. ‘A ghost spooked me and—Well, you know ... that’s all.’

‘Don’t, Gen,’ he said, moss-green eyes dark and serious. ‘Don’t brush off what just happened. Talk to me.’

Talk to him? Okay, that was what I’d told Grace I’d do, wasn’t it? And while I’d talked to him at Tavish’s, it had been about what had happened to me, and not about whatever our relationship was or wasn’t ... only knowing about the curse sort of changed things on the relationship front ... I looked around to see where I was. Pale wood and chrome furniture, sand-coloured carpet, a view out of the window over the cobbled expanse of Covent Garden between the Apple Market and St Paul’s Church: Finn’s office at Spellcrackers.com.

‘I’m not sure what to say,’ I said finally, crossing my arms. ‘Other than I’m tired. I had a hell of a night, on top of all this murder business there’s the droch guidhe, then this ghost jumps me and instead of behaving like a rational person, I do the frightened idiot act and run.’

‘Straight to me,’ he said softly.

Oh—Oh, that didn’t sound good. Not that I hadn’t enjoyed being held, or that I didn’t want him, but surely he couldn’t think that now the curse was out in the open—or rather, hanging around like an eager invisible matchmaker—that one little embrace meant I was going to choose him, could he? Didn’t he realise that right now I was even less sure about where I stood with him than I’d ever been before? That I needed time to sort things out in my head?

‘Of course, straight to you.’ I kept my voice even. ‘I was planning to talk to you about visiting the florist’s lad last night when the ghost did his scary jumping-out-at-me thing.’ And what a nicely ironic decision on the magic’s part, to bring me straight here so it could throw me into Finn’s arms. ‘That’s what happens when you use a’—much too—‘helpful magic door instead of the Underground.’

‘The magic didn’t bring you here just because it was convenient. ’ Finn caught my hands within his. ‘Gods, Gen, can’t you feel the magic, can’t you feel how it’s changed?

As he said it, I realised I could. The magic was humming quietly in the background, not sparking or urging, as it had between us before, but purring like a self-satisfied cat.

‘It’s not pushing us together any more’—he raised our joined hands up and kissed my knuckles—‘because it doesn’t need to. It knows there’s something between us. I told you before, it doesn’t happen like this with every fae. Why won’t you believe me?’

‘Why won’t I—?’ I took a calming breath; anger wasn’t going to help. ‘Finn, you’ve spent the last month keeping your distance when all you did before was keep asking me out. And you wouldn’t talk to me, and okay, I admit I wasn’t talking to you either, but ... it makes for a lot of confusion,’ and disappointment , I added silently, stepping back out of his hold. ‘Then there’s all this stuff about the curse, and how every male fae in London thinks I’m hot to produce the next generation of ... whatever. And now I’ve found out about the prohibition that ended on my twenty-third birthday. From where I’m standing it looks like Tavish was first in line, and then when that didn’t work out, it was your turn.’ Crap, it sounded so depressingly calculated. ‘So you know, telling me that the magic isn’t like this for everyone doesn’t really make me feel very special, not when you take everything else into consideration.’

‘Hell’s thorns, Gen, it’s not like that—’

‘Then what is it like, Finn?’ I asked quietly.

‘Okay, yes’—he pushed his hand agitatedly through his hair and rubbed his left horn—‘I’ll admit the droch guidhe was part of the reason the herd put the money up for Spellcrackers and why I was the one to take over the franchise. I’m one of the youngest in the herd, Gen, and I’ve spent more time among humans than the rest, so when Tavish didn’t announce he was courting you after the allotted time, the elders picked me—but Gen, that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to do this—’

‘So I’m right,’ I said, trying to ignore the spike of hurt. ‘You were second in line.’

‘Gen, someone from the herd always was,’ he said, softly. ‘Among the lesser fae, the satyrs are stronger than the dryads or the naiads, always have been. I was just lucky it happened to be me.’ He held his hands out. ‘Then, okay, you didn’t seem quite as keen on the idea, but your magic kept calling to me, so I thought things would work out sooner or later—but then everything else started to happen and things got messed up.’

‘Messed up like you discovered I’ve got 3V and my father’s a vampire,’ I stated, hating the accusation in my voice, but still feeling rejected by how he’d withdrawn when I’d told him my secret, despite everything else.

‘No, messed up because I discovered you weren’t in control of the magic,’ he said, his own voice firm, ‘and between the magic encouraging you and the salaich sìol, and you not having dated recently, well, it probably meant you weren’t thinking straight.’

In other words, because I hadn’t had sex recently, I was supposed to be gagging for it and anyone would do. Fucking sidhe sex myth; it was the stupid reason behind most of my current problems.

‘And I didn’t want to take advantage,’ he finished quietly.

So Grace was sort of right about why he’d backed off; not that his ‘not wanting to take advantage’ made me feel any better, not now.

‘I admit the salaich sìol and your parentage came as a surprise, ’ he carried on. ‘The elders didn’t tell me about either, and I haven’t asked them if they even know. But as you said yourself, it’s not really relevant: you’re sidhe, and your child will have whatever genetics you want it to. It’s a choice the sidhe have always made when they breed with Others.’ A muscle twitched along his jaw. ‘All I was supposed to do was get your agreement to the child being satyr—which was okay when I thought you understood what was going on, but then I realised you didn’t, so I backed off.’

A hollow, empty feeling settled beneath my breastbone. I didn’t know if I wanted a Happy Ever After with Finn—or anyone else—right now, but I had wanted a chance at Happy for Now with him. But the whole curse solution thing turned all that upside down; Happy for Now didn’t work when it was my child-bearing ability he wanted and not just me. Not to mention it all sounded even more depressingly premeditated now—particularly the fact that the whole set-up with Finn and Spellcrackers had been organised by his herd so he’d be in with a shot at getting me pregnant. I stared out of the window, looking at the heavy, grey rain clouds darkening the October sky, locked the hurt and disappointment away and tried to look at it logically. Okay, with the curse hanging over their heads, I could understand why—hell, if breaking the curse involved just me, then I wouldn’t even have to think about it—but it would mean bringing a child into the world for something other than its natural purpose. The magic is capricious and fickle at the best of times; throw in a curse and who knew what grief the child would have to bear.

And none of it the child’s own choosing.

It wasn’t a decision to be taken lightly.

Or by a committee.

And yeah, the whole philosophising bit still didn’t stop me being as pissed off as hell about the broodmare part I was supposed to play. Or the fact that Finn had agreed to it all before he’d even met me—

‘Fuck, Finn.’ I curled my hands into fists. ‘Doesn’t it bother you that they pimped you out as a stud?’

‘I’m a satyr, Gen!’ he said, exasperated. ‘We’re fertility fae, it’s what we do! We court whoever the herd elders decide—that’s the way it is. But if I hadn’t wanted to do this, either before or after I met you, I could’ve said no; it’s not like I’m the only satyr in London.’ His face hardened. ‘And I’m not the only fae in London either.’

Yeah, and didn’t I know it, what with dryads chasing me, and the early morning wake-up call from Randy Ricou.

‘So what you’re telling me,’ I said slowly, ‘is that I have to choose.’

‘Yes.’

That didn’t leave any wiggle-room for doubt, did it?

‘Look, I want you to choose me, Gen.’ He clasped my shoulders, hope sparking in his eyes. ‘But I saw the way you looked at Tavish, so’—his eyes turned flat and bleak—‘anyway, whoever you choose, you need to do it soon, otherwise the dryads will try and make the choice for you.’

‘That’s not a choice, Finn, that’s a fait accompli.’

‘Exactly. That’s what I’m saying.’ His hands tightened almost painfully on my shoulders. ‘Once you’ve made your choice and it’s official, then the dryad problem will go away.’

‘No, you don’t understand; it’s not the dryads doing the kidnapping and whatever that’s the fait accompli, it’s the whole thing. Having a child should be my choice, mine and the father’s, not a group decision taken by people I’ve never even met who want me to pick out a magical sperm donor from a line-up. But none of you will give me that choice, will you?’

‘No,’ he said, quietly, desolation echoing in his voice. ‘Not when it means we die out.’

I pulled away from him and sat down, rubbing my hands over my face, a sick, frightened feeling in my stomach. I didn’t want this, didn’t want the responsibility. Why couldn’t it be someone else’s? Why me? But of course the answer was easy; it was only me because I happened to be handy, no other reason.

‘Gen,’ Finn said sadly, crouching down in front of me, ‘even if all of London’s fae did give you that choice, I’m not sure the magic would.’

‘What?’ I looked up, startled.

‘Why do you think it keeps pushing us together like this?’ He took hold of my hands and the magic hummed as if in agreement. ‘So far it’s just being ... helpful, but it could change, you know that. The magic wants to survive as much as any of us, and it’s not just the magic dying that’s killing us; if we fade, so will the magic.’

My mother had faded.

My father found my mother at a fertility rite, got her pregnant, and then after I was born, she’d lost so much blood, he couldn’t stop her from fading. Or so the story goes. I’d believed it as a child, but now I realised no sidhe would willingly agree to have a vampire’s child—got her pregnant was just a pleasant euphemism. And I was the result. And while I might be my father’s daughter, I was still the valuable commodity he’d been determined to produce when he’d raped my mother—still the valuable commodity he’d traded to a psychotic vampire.

It’s not a story that dreams of happy families are made from.

Or one that had ever made me want to have my own children, even without a curse to contend with. But if the magic decided to encourage me ... Even if London’s fae left me alone, I might not be able to trust myself to make the right choice, a prospect that terrified me even more than everything else.

I looked down at where he clasped my hands. ‘What about the child?’ I said softly.

‘It’ll be a child, Gen. It’ll be loved and cared for, whoever its father is. You’ll see to that.’ His expression turned hopeful again. ‘Can we at least talk about it, maybe try and work out where we go from here?’

Part of me wanted to, but another part knew Finn’s ‘where do we go from here’ was him asking for a decision about him. And I wasn’t yet ready to make that decision—not to mention the real question hanging over me: what would happen if the curse attached itself to the child? That wasn’t one Finn—or, I suspected anyone else, for that matter—could or would answer. And magic aside, while they’d all got it into their heads that a sidhe-born child would break the curse, I wasn’t convinced ... But no matter where that left me, Finn or any of them, it wasn’t going to be resolved here and now.

Now, I was here to ask about another child: Helen’s changeling child, in the hope that the answer would help me find the sidhe who’d murdered Tomas.

I pulled my hands from Finn’s and straightened in the chair. ‘What happened when you and Helen went to see the florist’s lad last night?’

‘Hell’s thorns, Gen! Why won’t you talk to me?’

‘Because I’m not ready to.’ I pressed my hands flat on my knees, focusing on the snags in my jeans where I’d fallen over, keeping everything else—fear, hurt, anger and frustration—all bottled up. ‘And because right now,’ I carried on, ‘we have other things to worry about, like finding the sidhe who’s already killed once. What happened with the boy last night?’

‘Okay,’ he said, almost to himself, ‘okay, if you’re not ready, we can do this later.’ His brows drew together into a thoughtful frown. ‘The florist’s boy, yes ... we went to see him, only he wasn’t there. His dad said he was off to some concert or other with a mate. Helen’s got someone checking into it.’

Damn. The boy was a dead end. Now for the other question. I kept my gaze on my hands, not wanting to see his face. ‘I’ve just seen the phouka,’ I said, my voice neutral. ‘Helen gave a child to the sidhe. A changeling.’

He inhaled sharply, then he rose and retreated to sit behind his desk.

I looked up at him. His face was closed, all expression banished, leaving just a handsome mask. As I had expected. A dull pain twisted inside me, then I had a sudden—horrible—thought: was it his child?

But his next words denied it. ‘That is not for me to discuss.’ His voice was as blank as his face.

‘Well, you’re going to have to discuss it, Finn,’ I said, determined. ‘Someone’s used her blood and her connection to the child to open a gate between here and the Fair Lands. That same someone has let another sidhe into London.’

‘She wouldn’t do that.’ A line creased between his brows. ‘In fact, I’m not even sure she’d know how to.’

‘I’m not saying she would, but it’s her blood, Finn. Who else would have access to it?’

He grabbed his phone, pressed a button and clamped it to his ear. After a few seconds, he asked, ‘Helen, when was the last time you used blood in a spell?’

I pressed my lips together; nice to see his ex was on speed-dial, and that she answered him almost faster than the speed of light.

‘No, I need the answer first, then I’ll tell you.’ He snagged a pen and pulled his pad towards him. ‘That was the Seek-Out spell you did at Old Scotland Yard, wasn’t it? And before that?’ He listened. ‘More than a month ago, right. And what about the Witches’ Council Blood Bank?’

I raised my eyebrows. The council kept a Blood Bank for spells?

‘Okay.’ His face turned thoughtful. ‘Who would have access to it?’ He scribbled a couple of names on the pad in front of him. ‘Yes.’ He met my gaze briefly and admitted, ‘She’s with me.’

Damn, he just had to tell her, didn’t he? On the other hand, he couldn’t lie outright, and if he’d been evasive she’d have twigged.

‘No, I will not—and neither will you, not until after I ring you back, okay?’ His knuckles whitened as he gripped his pen. ‘Helen, it’s to do with what happened in the past, with the changeling.’ Another longer pause, then, ‘Five minutes, no more, and I’ll phone you back.’

He thumbed the phone off and looked at me, his eyes unreadable. ‘She says there’s no blood stored at the police station; they use it too infrequently. They call in a police doctor as and when they need it. So there’s no possibility of anyone stealing it from there.’

‘And the witches’ Blood Bank?’

‘The council takes donations from all working witches for use in the more complicated spells; it’s easier than trying to get them all together at casting time. Helen gives once a month.’

I could see the benefits. Most Witches’ Council spells took a whole coven—thirteen witches—which was why they were so damned expensive. ‘When did she last donate?’ I asked.

He tapped his pen. ‘A week ago yesterday.’

Yes! Now we were getting somewhere. I jerked my head towards the scribbles in front of him. ‘Who’s got access?’

He flipped the pad round to face me. ‘These three are the administrators.’

I didn’t recognise the first two, but the third—‘Sandra Wilcox is one of my neighbours.’

‘I know, and she’s also a highly respected member of the Witches’ Council, and not only that, she’s over eighty years old. Somehow I can’t see her stealing blood and persuading a sidhe to kill someone.’

‘She’s also a paranoid old witch who’s been campaigning like mad for the last month to get me evicted. Can Helen check and see if her blood’s still there?’

‘It won’t be. Blood is destroyed if it’s not used within five days. It loses its potency.’

‘Destroyed by the administrators, no doubt,’ I said drily. ‘So the old witch could’ve used it and no one would be any the wiser.’ I stood. ‘I’m going over there to find out what she knows.’

‘Gen, I’m really not sure that’s a good idea. Let me fill Helen in and she can arrange to talk to her.’

‘C’mon, Finn,’ I sighed, ‘no way am I going to let my fate hang on two witches, not when both of them are fully-paid-up members of the Get Rid of the Sidhe Club. And Helen’s got every reason to keep this under wraps, ’cause she’s hardly likely to want giving up her child to the sidhe to become public knowledge, is she?’

‘Helen will do her job—’

‘Phone her then, Finn, if that’s what you want. I know you have faith in her. But I don’t, so I’m going over there now, and if that means a whole division of police turn up, so much the better. That way there’ll be no sweeping things under the carpet.’

I turned on my heel and left.