The Sweet Scent of Blood

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 shoes 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.

And that led me straight on to another question: why weren’t there any journalists about? You’d think they were an extinct species, going by the lack of news coverage outside Old Scotland Yard. The only hack in evidence was Alan himself—who was now listening intently to the Earl—and he didn’t count.

‘Such a terrible time.’ The Earl’s tone was warm, solicitous, with just the tiniest whisper of vamp mesma to boost the feelings. ‘And I understand you have dispensed with Westman’s services.’

At the mention of his name, Westman shuffled closer to them. He didn’t look in any fit state to offer advice—and he also appeared more interested in Neil Banner and his goblin than in his erstwhile client.

I narrowed my eyes, frowning. Why had the Earl brought him along?

The goblin twisted his bat in his palm, his head swinging like a metronome from side to side, trying to keep both vampires in range.

I was still frowning when I realised the Earl was moving my way.

‘It is wonderful to meet you at last, Ms Taylor.’ He smiled and held out one pale manicured hand.

I tried not to tense as I shook his hand. His palm was warm and dry and felt exactly as a hand should. But that was it. There was no annoying throb in my neck. No desire to spill my blood at his feet. The apprehension in my gut went down a notch. The G-Zav was doing its thing.

‘I have heard such delightful things about you.’ He gave me a benign look from under his flop of blond hair. ‘I feel as if I already know you, so I shall call you Genevieve.’

I beamed at him. He could call me what he liked, so long as he didn’t think I was going to call him Master.

‘You really are extraordinarily beautiful, my dear.’ He reached out, traced a butterfly touch along my jaw. I wanted to brush his hand away, but gritted my teeth instead. ‘A delicate, yet eminently strong bone structure.’ His blue eyes lit with manly appreciation ... only something told me it was more because he thought I expected it than because he actually meant it. ‘You have a dancer’s figure: slender, muscled, but ultimately feminine. You would look wonderful cast in bronze. I have quite an extensive collection of Degas.’ He patted my hand and leaned towards me. ‘I would be honoured if you would view it some time.’

I gave a surprised laugh, tugging my hand from his. Were we talking euphemisms? ‘I’m not sure bronzes are my thing, but thanks anyway.’ Then I frowned. Why were the DI and Hugh still holding their staring contest with Lacy Louis?

‘Perhaps you could enlighten my curiosity then, Genevieve.’ He adjusted his cuffs carefully. ‘Admirable as your offer to help dear Roberto is, I do find it a little strange, given your usual avoidance of the vampire community.’ He gave me a conspiratorial smile. ‘How exactly did you make his acquaintance? ’

‘Through Roberto’s father, Alan Hinkley,’ I said.

‘How interesting.’ His words came with a push of mesma to tell him more. It buzzed round me like an irritating fly. I mentally waved it away and looked over at Alan.

Had Alan repeated that cryptic comment about Siobhan to the Earl? Not that it mattered; Alan didn’t know anything else. Now he was talking to Banner, looking anxious. In contrast, Banner was ignoring both Alan and Jeremiah the goblin, gazing past them at Westman like he’d found the last chocolate in the box. And wasn’t he lucky? It was only his favourite.

Westman stared back, his expression mirroring Banner’s. Damn. Westman had hit him with a mind-lock, and not the careful, controlled mind-lock the Armani-suited vamp had used on Alan Hinkley earlier, but a full-out melding, as dangerous for the vamp as for his victim.

This was so not good.

Westman licked his lips, took another shuffling step towards Neil Banner.

Shit. Had anyone else noticed what was happening? I looked at Hugh, but he was still glowering at Lacy Louis, and DI Crane was still clutching her sapphire—it was almost as if someone had pressed pause on them.

I looked back at the Earl. He watched me with interest, his charming smile full of calculation.

‘What are you doing?’ I snapped.

‘I? Why, nothing, my dear.’ He gestured at Westman and Banner. ‘But it looks as if they are of like mind, and far be it for me to come between them.’

Banner took a step towards Westman.

The goblin let out a high-pitched howl.

Banner and Westman ignored him.

The DI and Hugh stayed frozen like statues.

Hoisting his bat, Jeremiah the goblin bounced on his feet, trainers flashing red, and charged at Westman. Trapped in his own mind-lock, Westman didn’t even see the goblin coming. The goblin’s bat slammed into the back of the vamp’s legs with a loud snap, bringing him to his knees. The goblin pirouetted with the up-swing, ringlets fanning out in a circle, and swung the weapon round, smacking Westman solidly in the stomach. He doubled over, head thudding against the floor with a sickening crack. Another elegant pirouette, the bat raised high above him, and the goblin was ready for the third and final blow, the one that would smash Westman’s skull like an overripe melon.

I have to end this. ‘Jeremiah, stop!’ I shouted, hoping desperately that he’d heed me.

The goblin hesitated, then froze.

Screams of pain echoed round the hall.

Westman lay crumpled, silent.

The screams came from Banner, who writhed on the floor, fingers scrabbling at the lino, trying to pull himself to Westman.

I grabbed hold of Alan’s hand and he started, looking down at me in shock. I pushed him at Banner. ‘Keep him away from the vampire,’ I cried as I shoved the command into his mind and pointed at Westman. Alan looked dazed, but nodded, and I raced towards the fight.

I slid onto my knees between the goblin and Westman and threw my hands up. The goblin’s black plastic lenses stared down at me as the silver-foiled club glinted in the overhead lights. His ski-slope nose twitched once, acknowledging that he saw me.

‘Magic not gone.’ His soft voice held confusion.

‘It’s joined together.’ I brought my palms together and entwined my fingers, ‘Like this.’

He flexed his arms, lifting the bat higher. ‘I break it.’

‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘You can’t break it. You’ll hurt the human you protect.’ I banged my hands on the floor, keeping one fist inside the other. ‘See.’

A ringlet fell across his face as his head dipped. ‘Job bad.’

‘No. I can stop the magic.’

His nose twitched again.

‘Like this.’ I extended my fisted hands and slowly eased them apart until I held them out to either side of me, palms facing up.

He studied my hands for a moment, then whispered, ‘Job good?’

I blew out a relieved breath, the tension in my shoulders easing. ‘Job good,’ I agreed.

The goblin started to lower his bat ...

... a dark blur hit my back, knocking me on my side ...

... hands lifted the goblin up like a garden faerie snatching a dragonfly, swung him round and launched him hard through the tall window into the darkness outside ...

A stunned silence filled the hall.

Louis walked over to the window, placed a finger on a jagged piece of glass and pushed it out of the frame. A faint tinkling noise echoed through the open gap. Turning to survey the hall, he smoothed pale hands over his velvet jacket, a satisfied expression on his face.

‘Jesus effing Christ!’ A voice I didn’t recognise broke the silence and as I swivelled towards it I saw a uniformed constable crouching over Alan Hinkley’s body, staring at the broken window. Damn. Where was Banner? Two more uniforms, one human, the other a large troll I recognised, Constable Lamber, had their backs towards me; they had someone barricaded in the corner. Constable Lamber held his hands out in a placatory manner as he backed away. And I saw Banner. The Earl was using his limp body as a shield.

Footsteps sounded behind me and I turned to see Constable Curly-hair running towards the front door.

Louis loomed over me and I glared up at him. It was he who’d thrown the goblin out of the window. ‘What the fuck did you do that for?’ I sat up. ‘He’d stopped.’

Louis dropped into a crouch, forearms resting on his velvet clad thighs. ‘Fuck. I like zis word.’ He smiled, but his eyes stayed blank, like a dead fish. ‘Fuck. Fuckfuck. Fuckfuck.’

‘Stand up.’ Hugh’s booming voice echoed throughout the hall. ‘Move away from her. Now.’

‘Trolls.’ Louis spat inelegantly on the floor. ‘Not good for fuckfuck.’

I slid along the floor, edging away from Louis, happy to put some distance between us.

‘Ms Taylor,’ DI Crane’s words held a thread of panic. ‘Be careful.’

I bumped into something. Something soft. Louis smiled his dead fish smile.

‘Genny,’ Hugh’s tone was urgent, ‘move. Now. He’s coming round.’

I started to push myself to my feet—

Too late.

Steel fingers manacled my wrist, pulling me down onto my side, and I stared into Westman’s eyes. They were brown, clouded, like an old man’s and full of pain and need. Soon the hunger would take over, stripping him of whatever humanity he had left and plunging him into blood-lust. No way did I want to be this close when he fell. I punched up, catching him under the jaw. His head rocked back. I punched again. He blocked me, grabbing my arm. Jack-knifing my legs, I kicked both feet into his stomach. Stale blood-tainted air puffed out of his mouth, making me gag as he slid away from me, hands still clamped around my wrists.

‘Ms Taylor,’ DI Crane sounded in control at last, ‘I’m going to stun him. You might get a backlash from the spell.’

‘NO!’ I shouted, frantic, ‘you can’t! He’s mind-locked on Neil Banner!’

Westman started pulling me slowly towards him as though I was something large and heavy—he had to be weak from the goblin’s attack. I wriggled backwards, but he tugged, and I lost the couple of inches I’d gained. My heart pounded. Had DI Crane understood what I’d told her? Another pull and I slid closer, my shoulders protesting. Surely she had to realise that stunning Westman might kill Banner? Why didn’t she just order Hugh and the other trolls to sit on him?

The vamp yanked at me again and I slid faster towards him. Shit, it felt like he was getting stronger. I tried to shout, but my throat wouldn’t work. I twisted onto my front and tried to dig in my toes, my elbows, anything, just to get some traction. Snatches of voices stopped and started over me but I couldn’t make sense of the words.

Then Westman started coming at me, using my arms to drag himself nearer, his broken legs trailing behind him like a giant leech. Blood swirled over the whites of his eyes. His mouth opened in a snarl; saliva dripped from one pointed canine, his tiny venom fangs glistening needle-sharp below his front teeth—

He’d fallen into bloodlust.

Terror filled me; I was fourteen again. Remembered pain stabbed the back of my neck, surging through my body, and tears flooded my eyes. I didn’t want to be bitten, not like before. It hurt too much.

I banged my forehead on the floor, hard, to stop the panic before it completely overwhelmed me.

‘I vill help you.’ Louis crawled past me, lace cuffs sweeping the linoleum, and slithered to lie alongside Westman until they were touching from shoulder to hip, then he leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. Westman froze.

My eyes closed, trembling muscles relaxed and I took a deep breath.

‘Now ve bargain.’

Shit. My eyes flew open and met his flat, cold gaze. Maybe I should just climb back into the frying pan.

‘Wh—?’ Licking my lips, I tried again. ‘What bargain?’

‘I want she-witch.’

‘You want what?’ My mouth fell open in shock.

Louis stroked Westman’s hair and started speaking fast in what sounded like French—a language I didn’t understand.

I shook my head.

‘Ms Taylor, perhaps I might help?’ I jerked as the Earl’s quiet voice sounded next to my ear, even though I could clearly see him across the hall from me—he’d thrown his voice, one of the more simpler vamp tricks—if the vamp was old enough. ‘Louis wishes me to relay his request,’ the Earl continued. ‘Please be assured our conversation will be entirely private.’

I turned my head. Hugh’s worried gaze was still fixed on DI Crane. Neither of them were moving, frozen again.

‘Hugh,’ I called, but he didn’t respond. My stomach clenched.

‘He can’t hear you, Ms Taylor,’ the Earl continued. ‘Unfortunately, while you were dealing so admirably with the goblin, Mr Banner became rather violent in his need to reach Westman, and he attacked Mr Hinkley.’ He gave a small cough. ‘I took it upon myself to restrain Mr Banner. Sadly, the estimable Inspector appears to have misunderstood my reasons for holding him and I believe she feels she now has a hostage situation on her hands.’

‘Maybe you hugging Neil Banner like a long-lost teddy bear has something to do with that.’

‘Hmm. Regrettably her various protection spells do not allow me to discuss the misconception with her. I have attempted to communicate with the sergeant, but our abilities are rather ineffectual against trolls.’ He sighed. ‘They are such dense creatures. So I have elected to contain the situation and buy us all a small amount of time, as they say.’

I frowned at Hugh. He still hadn’t moved. Was the Earl saying what I thought he was? Was he actually able to selectively stop time and hold individuals in some sort of stasis? Damn, that was some trick—not that I wanted to be impressed—but it wasn’t helping me much.

‘Okay, I get it. So what’s the deal that your friend here wants?’

‘It is quite simple: Louis wishes you to remove DI Crane’s protection spell, the one in her sapphire, without alerting her to the fact.’ The Earl’s voice was as calm as if he were discussing a walk in the park, instead of doing something that would go against every tenet that both the witches and vampires held dear. ‘Obviously,’ he continued, ‘this is a difficult, possibly even distasteful option for you to consider, but I believe it is a task that is well within your capabilities.’

‘Witches good fuckfuck,’ Louis said with a grin that never reached his eyes. ‘Good blood.’

‘So, if I’ve got this right,’ I said slowly, ‘I can play matchmaker for Psycho vamp Louis and Inspector Crane, or I can let the other sucker here pump me full of venom whilst he attempts to suck me dry.’ I’d already been there and burnt the T-shirt on option two, and was not looking for a replay. Never again would be too soon for that.

‘Eloquently put, my dear.’ The Earl paused. ‘Westman needs blood, and without it, he will be unable to withdraw his hold on Mr Banner, and thus avert the unpleasant situation in which we find ourselves.’

‘Stop playing games with me,’ I snapped. ‘Just order Louis to feed the sucker; I’m quite sure that would also avert the situation.’

A pink bead of sweat rolled down Westman’s face. Louis leaned in and caught it with his tongue. Nice.

‘Sadly, that is not a possibility.’ The Earl didn’t sound quite so unruffled now. ‘Louis does not bow to my hand. He owes his fealty to another.’

I didn’t try and keep the surprise out of my voice. ‘I thought you were the main man around here?’

‘Ms Taylor, Westman needs blood soon.’ He sounded tired. ‘Please make your decision: who will make the necessary donation? ’

‘Decision made. I nominate you.’

The Earl sighed. ‘In Westman’s present state, blood from a vampire not of his family would devastate his mind.’

Damn. ‘And destroy Neil Banner’s along with it.’ I finished the unspoken part of the sentence.

‘Yes.’ Regret tinged his voice. ‘I see you understand the situation.’

Westman tugged at my arms again and I slid another inch nearer. I let out a startled yelp, then clamped my lips firmly together.

Louis grinned, showcasing his sharp fangs.

My heart thudded faster against my ribs.

‘Even now, Louis is still trying to save you. Whether he succeeds is up to you. Westman is young and horribly injured. Should he attack you, it would hardly be unprovoked, for the goblin did offer the first blow, and you are sidhe fae, Ms Taylor, not human. The penalties are not so severe.’

Different races, different rules. Damn. He had it all worked out.

I looked at DI Crane, standing next to Hugh. One hand was still wrapped around her sapphire pendant, but her other hand was now held up, fingers frozen halfway through casting a spell. Had she moved? Then as I watched, her arm jerked, then stilled again. It looked like the Earl had to keep pressing the ‘pause’ button to keep them in stasis. Another yank on my arms brought my attention back to the vampires.

‘I am afraid you really do need to decide, Ms Taylor.’ The Earl’s voice sounded fainter, as though he was further away.

‘I’m thinking,’ I snapped. Not that I had a lot of choices. Someone holds a gun—or a vampire in bloodlust—to your head, and what can you do? Give them what they want? That was a no-brainer. Call their bluff? That one only worked if they actually were bluffing, and somehow I didn’t think they were. The only other option was to try and get control of the gun?

Shit. Would that even work?

‘There is no more time, Ms Taylor.’ A pressure in my head that I hadn’t even noticed dissolved and noise burst over me like an oncoming wave: Hugh’s voice, yelling, growls from the other troll, moans that I guessed were either Banner’s or Hinkley’s.

Louis shot me a fang-filled grin and crooked his finger. The pull on my arms increased and I started to slide towards him and Westman again.

I focused my own magic and shoved it into Westman. Power like a thin steel wire coiled from him to Louis, binding them together, but I ignored it and reached instead for the fat rope of mesma that emanated from Westman and stretched towards Banner. I needed to separate the convulsing red and white strands, but there wasn’t time ... instead I wrapped the rope in my own magic, encasing it in a tube of golden light and sealing it tight.

‘Putain!’ Louis hissed, almost breaking my concentration. He tried to prise Westman’s fingers from my wrists, but I poured more magic around the rope, locking Westman in my Glamour, his own hands on my bare skin melding the connection. If Louis wanted Westman free, he’d have to break his fingers one by one; that was the only way he’d get Westman to let go of me.

Sweat trickled into my left eye and I blinked it away.

The scent of honeysuckle permeated the air. Tendrils of magic sprouted out like golden shoots from the rope. Shit, that wasn’t supposed to happen! The shoots twined around the coiled wire between Westman and Louis like some quick-growing vine.

‘Merde!’ Louis leapt up and stumbled backwards, hands slicing the air between us.

Damn ... slapping a Glamour on one vamp was probably about my limit. I was operating blind; I’d only ever done this with a human before, so no way did I want to try Glamouring two of the suckers.

Heart pounding, I tried to pull the magic back, but it kept rushing out, the beautiful golden light twisting up the steel wire, stretching like elastic, getting thinner and thinner.

Wordless shouts ricocheted above me: Hugh’s urgent; DI Crane’s sharp with warning—

—then green lightening hit Louis in the chest, arcing along the wire, lashing back at Westman and me ...

... and the world exploded into burning green flames.