The Sweet Scent of Blood

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Earl had done the same freaky time-pause thing as in the police station. It gave me a hollow feeling in my gut. ‘Annoying you, was she?’ I asked.

He inclined his head. ‘I prefer to spend my time in your company, my dear.’ He offered me his arm again. ‘Shall we?’

‘I’m not sure that’s such a great idea—I mean, I really don’t think bronzes are my thing, y’know? And that is why you invited me, isn’t it?’

‘Of course,’ he said without missing a beat, ‘but first I must compliment you.’ He reached out and took my hands. ‘You look absolutely charming, Genevieve. Such beauty as yours is a pleasure to behold and refreshes the heart.’ He smiled, his expression highly amused. ‘Although maybe in my case, I should say it could refresh ... well, other parts of me.’

Surprised, I laughed. The Earl hadn’t seemed the type for innuendos. ‘Well, at least you’re honest about it.’

‘Trite as it may seem,’ he bowed over my hand, then turned it and pressed a kiss into the palm, ‘I have always found honesty to be the best policy.’

A light flashed to the side of us as he raised his head. ‘But forgive me, I get ahead of myself. I feel we should perhaps get to know each other before indulging in such intimacies.’

Sounded good. Of course, that statement was all about definitions, wasn’t it?

‘Uh-huh.’ I gave him a half-smile, my attention snagged by another flash: a Japanese tourist brandishing a miniature camera.

The Earl tucked my hand into his bent arm. ‘Sadly, not everyone today is of the same opinion. The whole world rushes past faster and faster, and people appear to be unable or unwilling to consider the long-term consequences of their actions, wishing only to gratify immediate desires.’

‘Those desires seem to be gratifying a lot of your vamps just now.’

‘It takes time and experience to truly understand what the future holds, and what is necessary to keep it secure.’ He sighed, patted my hand. ‘The young are unable to understand that our planet is suffering through their cavalier use of its glorious bounty.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Great, just what I needed: a green vampire, lecturing me on the evils of the world.

‘We hope to educate them, not just on the larger environmental—’

There was another flash and the Earl’s hand on mine tensed, annoyance flickering across his face. Then a vampire dressed in house uniform—navy trousers and silver-striped navy shirt—appeared next to the tourist and took her arm, removing her camera from her unresisting hold.

‘My apologies, Genevieve,’ the Earl murmured. ‘The staff will ensure the photograph is destroyed. Sometimes our guests fail to fully grasp the Blue Heart’s rules.’

‘If you don’t like photos being taken’—I indicated the posters of all the calendar vamps that lined the club’s foyer—‘then what’s with all the publicity?’

‘You are quite right. It does look rather contradictory.’ He led me towards the back of the foyer. ‘But it is a lucrative option in this day and age, and of course, like any species, we must evolve as the world around us changes if we are to survive.’

As we walked, people moved aside as though orchestrated to let us pass. I guessed the Earl was using a vamp-trick to subtly clear our way.

‘Some among us have spent centuries forging new identities for ourselves as and when the situation required it,’ he continued. ‘The invention of the camera, and photographic records, made it increasingly difficult to avoid those humans who were intent on destroying us. So we learnt to evade, and like all habits, it is hard to change.’

Monopolising the conversation appeared to be another of his habits ... and I wasn’t interested in the chat.

I was more interested in why he’d invited me here.

We stopped at the swing-doors that led into the interior part of the old cinema. To one side, a Monitor goblin perched on a chrome barstool, his navy boiler-suit decorated with five identical brooches—blue glass hearts—some sort of employee recognition, maybe? He dipped his gelled spike of blue hair towards the Earl, greeted me, then held up his hand, making a low chittering sound.

‘You will need to show him your invitation, my dear.’ The Earl’s voice was quiet. ‘And allow him to touch you.’ He released me so he wasn’t touching me himself. ‘It is a condition of our operating licence that all guests enter of their own free will.’

I returned the goblin’s greeting, then held the silver invitation out towards him.

The goblin peered at the silver oblong, then clutched at my fingers briefly. He kicked his foot against the leg of his barstool, making his trainers flash blue. ‘Okey-dokey, you’re cleared to party, miss.’ He reached out and pressed the call button for the private lift behind him. There was a ping and the lift door opened and the Earl’s hand on my back ushered me forward.

It was a small lift—small enough that two bodies wouldn’t have much room between them. I hesitated: not that I’m claustrophobic or anything, but hey, we were adding a vampire into the equation and I didn’t like the odds.

The Earl’s hand at my back increased its pressure. ‘I would like to show you our private members’ bar, my dear.’ He smiled. ‘The lift allows our more select clientele to avoid the crowds. It is more discreet.’

Shit. I so hoped Katie was right about the reason for the invitations, that this was all about the murdered girl and nothing to do with me personally. I took a deep breath and stepped into the small metal box. The floor gave a slight dip, and my stomach went with it. I moved to one side, my back pressed against the wall.

The Earl faced me, an impassive look in his azure eyes as the door slid shut, cutting off the noise from the foyer. The inside of the lift was a dark patterned metal, like an old, foxed mirror. All around us our reflections multiplied and watched us in the eerie quiet. Then I realised why the silence was so strange: the Earl wasn’t breathing; his heart wasn’t beating. It was almost as if he didn’t exist. My own heart sped faster. Did he need to feed? I shot a glance at the open neck of his shirt, but all I could see was pale skin and a shadow of darker blond hair.

Almost as if he could tell what I was thinking, he smiled, amused again, letting me glimpse fang for the first time. ‘Alone at last, my dear Genevieve.’ He took out a small key, placed it into a hole in the lift’s panel and turned it. The power cut off, leaving us in the dim light of a small emergency bulb. ‘There, that should ensure we are not disturbed.’

I gripped the silver invitation, tapped it against my chin, concentrating on the slight burn. ‘Any particular reason why?’ My pulse was kicking like a terrified rabbit, but at least my voice came out calm. ‘Or is that a stupid question?’

‘Please do not be alarmed. This—’ he held his hands open in a placatory gesture ‘—is just a precaution to ensure our discussion will remain private.’

Narrowing my gaze, I turned his words over in my mind, willing my pulse to slow, or trying to, anyway. Damn G-Zav. ‘You don’t want anyone to know you’re interested in the dead girl, do you?’

His eyes lit with approval. ‘Quite so—although my interest isn’t in the girl as such, but in the way she died.’

Join the queue! I felt like saying.

‘As I mentioned, I believe in honesty.’ He looked me straight in the eyes. ‘The girl’s death was caused by magic, some sort of spell. The incident is an outright attempt to blacken our public image.’

‘Going by the punters still queuing to get in, it doesn’t appear to have had much effect so far.’

‘One death can be labelled a tragic accident, a domestic, I understand it is called.’ He gestured, dismissive. ‘But I have every reason to believe there could be more.’

‘What’s that to do with me?’

‘You have an appointment with Mr Hinkley at the police station later. All being well, you should be able to see the girl’s body. I would like you to identify the spell used and, if possible, remove it. And I would appreciate if you would apprise me of your findings.’ He adjusted his cuffs. ‘In the meantime, I would also like you to carry out some investigations around the club, using your expertise in the area of magic, to see if there is anything else that might shed some light on the matter.’

I didn’t bother telling him I wasn’t a detective. No one wanted to believe me anyway. ‘Is this your way of hiring me?’

He nodded. ‘I would have preferred to contact you openly at Spellcrackers, of course, but allowing for the sometimes distrustful relations between vampires and witches, this seemed to be the most expedient way of dealing with the matter. I have obviously informed Inspector Crane about my concerns,’ He brushed at a speck on his sleeve. ‘But sadly, the good Inspector is new and untried, and is possibly more interested in clearing up a potentially inflammatory situation than finding the truth.’

Talking about inflammatory ...

‘So what was with the French Looney-Toon you brought with you last night?’

‘A miscalculation on my part.’ He adjusted his cuffs again; turning one heart-shaped cufflink the right way up. ‘Westman is an excellent lawyer, but sadly, since Louis and he have become enamoured of each other, his mind is not always on his work. As for our foreign guest, I was as surprised as any at his interest in the inspector.’ He gave me a rueful smile. ‘I do hope it won’t influence you against me in this matter.’

I shifted my feet, trying to ease the stretched muscles in my calves. Six-inch heels are not meant for standing still in. ‘You do know that the police found no magic on the girl’s body, don’t you?’

‘So Inspector Crane was kind enough to inform me. But she is not only a member of the police, but a witch too.’

Yeah right: so back to the trust thing.

‘Even if I find this spell,’ I said, ‘it’s not like I’ll be able to tell who cast it, so how are you going to stop it from happening again?’

‘The important thing is to find the spell, my dear. Any ramifications can be dealt with later.’

I studied him, then narrowed my eyes. ‘Did you know Melissa?’

‘She worked here.’ His impassive look was back. ‘I am sure that we must have spoken at some point.’

‘Did you know she was fae?’

‘As I said, we might have spoken, but I didn’t know her.’

‘Did you kill her?’

‘Not that I am aware.’

I blinked at that. ‘Either you did or you didn’t.’

‘Sadly, it is always possible that an inadvertent word or gesture of mine at the wrong time may have contributed to her death.’ He gave a slight shrug. ‘I have always found it pays to be honest.’

I wondered just how honest he was really being—he wasn’t actively lying; vampires as old as him didn’t. They had that whole ‘my word is my honour’ thing going on. But even I could manage to twist words into the shape I wanted when necessary, and the Earl had a good eight centuries or so on me. So I doubted his honesty was the whole-and-nothing-but sort. Never mind that my bullshit antenna was twitching like a vamp junkie heading for a venom-seizure.

I pursed my lips. ‘Is there anything else you can tell me that might help?’

He shook his head. ‘I believe not.’

I leaned forward and locked eyes with him. In my six-inch platforms I was the same height as him. ‘Not even which vampire you suspect?’

He smiled. ‘I never said that I suspected anyone, my dear.’

‘You didn’t need to.’ I leaned back, hands braced either side of me. ‘It’s no secret that Mr Hinkley thinks that Melissa was killed by another vampire using magic. Or that he’s hired me. You’ve just confirmed that you agree with him.’

As had Declan when I’d visited the Bloody Shamrock. Obviously no one—other than the police—believed Melissa had died of anything other than some sort of magic.

I tapped my foot and carried on, ‘The only reason for this little tête-à-tête is just that. No room for anyone to hide and overhear what you’ve got to say to me. And if all you want is for me to find this so-called spell, you must have a pretty good idea who is responsible for it.’ I pursed my lips. ‘An invitation, ostensibly to visit your collection of bronzes, isn’t going to fool anyone.’

‘Although my collection is truly outstanding.’ He gave me an appreciative look. ‘As are you.’

‘So, either you’re going to tell me who it is, or you want them to think you have.’ I took a breath, wanting to slap the patronising approval off his face. ‘Which is it?’

‘But there is the rub, my dear.’ He sighed, turned the key in the lift panel. ‘I may have my suspicions, but without the spell, I have absolutely no proof.’

The lights came on and the lift lurched into life. I staggered a little, reaching out to steady myself ...

The air shifted and I felt the same disorientation as before.

The lift had stopped. The door was open.

I looked out into the room beyond. It was a crowded lounge bar, and every face had turned to stare my way.

‘My dear.’ The Earl placed his hand at the small of my back and ushered me from the lift. I stepped out and the lift door pinged closed behind me.

Why had he shifted time again?

Frowning, I turned back, ready to demand an explanation...

But the Earl was gone, and I was on my own.