The Sweet Scent of Blood

Chapter Six

You need all the front you can muster when facing seven foot of solid granite troll, especially when the troll is Detective Sergeant Hugh Munro. Never mind that he was as soft as faerie moss, he was not going to be happy I was there.

‘Genny, good to see you again.’ Hugh’s voice was a deep bass. He lifted one large hand in greeting and smiled, pink granite teeth gleaming: his bite was way worse than his bark. His shock of black hair grew straight up, two inches above his scalp ridge, contrasting nicely with the deep red of his skin—not sunburn, just his natural colour. Hugh came from the Cairngorms, from the largest tribe in Scotland, and his grand-mother was the matriarch.

I straightened my shoulders and returned his smile.

Hugh scanned the room until his gaze landed on Alan. ‘Mr Hinkley, Detective Inspector Crane would like to speak to you.’ He stepped aside, revealing the plump, curly-haired policewoman. ‘If you’d like to go with the constable, please.’

Alan glanced at me, his face etched with worry, then headed off with the curly-haired constable.

Hugh came towards Banner, the goblin and me. ‘Mr Banner, I am sorry, but the inspector insists you wait here, not in the morgue.’ A firm expression crossed Hugh’s face. ‘You have her full assurance that the injunction will be complied with fully.’

The goblin broke in with a high chittering sound. An answering rumble came from Hugh’s throat. The goblin tapped his bat three times on the floor, finger smoothing quickly down his nose to cover his mouth. Hugh, lips pressed tight together, touched his own nose, nodding with a slightly self-conscious air.

‘I hope there isn’t a problem, Sergeant.’ Banner sounded earnest as he looked from one to the other. ‘My minister assured me that the police wouldn’t have any issue with a goblin guard.’

‘No, not a problem at all.’ Reddish dust puffed into the air above Hugh’s head, his embarrassment even more obvious. ‘Young Jeremiah here is an adopted member of my tribe. He was just saying... hello.’

Hmm. If that was the case, what was Hugh getting all dusted about?

‘That’s great.’ Banner gave us all a wide smile, still not noticing when the goblin flinched again. ‘It’s always nice to bump into old friends, isn’t it?’

Fine crevices creased across Hugh’s forehead as he frowned. ‘You’re right, Mr Banner. Old friends are always a welcome sight. Please feel free to wait here as long as you want, you and Jeremiah both.’ He looked down at me. ‘Genny, why don’t you come through to the office.’

I stifled a sigh. It wasn’t a request.

As I followed him along the corridor, I eyed the precisely ironed crease down the middle of his white shirt, which was tucked neatly into the belted waistband of his black trousers. He didn’t look much different in plain clothes, or any older than when I’d first met him ten years ago. Trolls usually lived a few centuries, and I’d worked out that Hugh must be around ninety-odd, for all that he looked half that age.

He stopped, held the office door open for me. I breathed in the familiar fresh smell of ozone that was Hugh and safety. ‘How are things?’

‘Fine, Genny.’ A large, gentle hand touched my shoulder.

‘I heard about the new boss.’ I briefly patted his arm. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘So am I,’ he rumbled. ‘But Detective Inspector Crane has an exemplary track record, and I’m happy to be working with her.’

I smiled at his diplomatic answer. ‘You’d have made a great Inspector, Hugh.’

‘Just wasn’t the right time for me, Genny. The DI’s a powerful witch, got a lot of experience here and in Europe; she’s just what the team needs.’

And even though she’s a witch, she’s still human, I added silently. Hugh might have been the first troll to make Detective Sergeant, four years previously, but he was still a troll. Life sucks sometimes, and not just for vampires.

I walked into the empty open-plan office and headed for Hugh’s L-shaped desk. It was easy enough to find—his was the only one clear of all but the essentials: a pile of paper coasters in a pink granite holder, three of the overlarge ballpoint pens manufactured for a troll’s fingers, and an electronic photo frame, currently showing a summer landscape of his mountain. Next to a tidy stack of files, his computer screen flashed a screensaver of the same view, this one taken in lightly falling snow.

Smiling, I asked, ‘So what’s with the goblin and you?’

‘Grandmother was concerned about some of the newer goblins being brought into London.’ He pointed me to his ‘guest’ chair as he sat down. ‘She asked me to be their Ardathair , that’s sort of a pastoral figurehead.’

‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ I frowned at his troubled face.

‘Sit down, Genny.’ Hugh placed his hands flat on the desk. ‘There’s something more important we need to talk about.’

So much for the catch-up. I dropped my bag on the floor, but instead of sitting immediately, I retreated to the water dispenser in the corner. ‘Did you want some, Hugh?’

‘What do you think you’re doing, Genny?’

Getting some water, I wanted to say as I filled the white plastic cup, but I heard the concern in his voice under the reproach, so I didn’t. ‘Hugh, it’s no big deal.’ I carried the water back to his desk. ‘I look at the victim, check her out for spells and let my client know if I find any.’ I sat down. ‘Job done.’

The cracks across Hugh’s forehead deepened. ‘There’s nothing to find. The standard tests for magic were all clear.’ He straightened one of his pens. ‘Then when Mr Hinkley brought up his concerns, Inspector Crane put a circle up herself and repeated them, and did some others. She even got an independent witch from another coven to confirm her findings.’ He gave me a level look. ‘No magic. Nothing.’

‘So that’s what I’ll tell him.’ I gave Hugh a small smile. ‘Once I’ve seen for myself.’

‘Genny, I shouldn’t be telling you this’—he pressed his index finger against his lips—‘but the most recent bites match the boyfriend’s dental mould.’

‘What about the blood counts?’

‘High levels of V1 and V2 as expected, VM3 present but inactive.’

I nodded. Vampire Venom and Virus—3V—isn’t exactly what the name suggests; the scientist who discovered the different components back in the seventies was a fanatical Souler. He identified the clear fluid injected by a vampire’s small retractable fangs as a combination of hormones and proteins, only he decided it made more sense to promote it as a poisonous virulent disease, and back then the Department of Health agreed with him.

The Venom—V1—part is the initial ‘infection’. It boosts production of the red blood cells and addicts the victim, which makes for the ideal blood-slave—lots of hot thick blood on tap, and someone who is dying (literally, on occasion) to have a vamp sink fangs into them. As the infection builds, V1 mutates into V2, and the morphogens alter the DNA, upping the slave’s immune system to the point that every other disease is killed off. It’s a great health benefit—that’s if the slave manages to survive the side-effects of the 3V itself. VM3 is the trigger for the Gift, the marker that the original scientist never found.

But then, he couldn’t see magic, and VM3 is the magic part of the equation.

The high levels of V1 and V2 made sense. Melissa not only worked for vampires, but dated one too. But with VM3 still being dormant . . . I frowned, that meant Melissa’s death had nothing to do with a botched Gifting.

Something else Hugh had said caught my attention. ‘Recent bites?’ I asked.

‘The pathologist reports that she had multiple bites, inflicted over an extended period of time. He thinks he’s narrowed it down to four, maybe five, regular partners. But only the boyfriend matched the bite wounds made in the last week.’

‘He must’ve overdosed her on V1.’ I pursed my lips. ‘Still, at least she’d have been too hyped-up to know much about it, so what killed her—a stroke or a heart attack?’

‘The victim died of blood loss, Genny,’ Hugh rumbled. ‘Almost drained dry was how the pathologist put it.’

What Hugh was saying didn’t tally with Alan Hinkley’s tale of true love between Bobby, aka Mr October, and Melissa. Draining someone infected with 3V would be almost impossible for just one vampire. They just couldn’t ingest that amount of blood fast enough—unless it was deliberate.

‘Shit,’ I muttered, ‘the sucker must’ve gorged himself.’

‘Exactly,’ Hugh sighed. ‘Case solved. Except for the father, who just can’t accept what’s happened.’

Damn.

‘Maybe the father just needs to hear it from someone else.’ I took a sip of water. ‘Someone not connected with the police. I mean, it wasn’t that long ago that his son would’ve been staked and burned almost as soon as you’d nabbed him, is it?’

Hugh’s expression turned disapproving. ‘Vampires have the same legal rights as any other human, Genny. They have had for the last fifteen-odd years, since the High Court ruled—’

‘Yeah, I know,’ I interrupted. ‘So once the injunction’s lifted, there’s no harm me looking, is there?’

His mouth turned down as he picked up a file. ‘Genny, getting involved with this is not right for you.’

I so didn’t want to hear this. Not when I agreed with him.

‘C’mon, Hugh.’ I tried an appeasing smile. ‘I checked out a couple of things like this for your old boss.’

More red mica shimmered above his head. Hugh really was dusted about this. ‘Twice you worked for the old man, both times the victims were witches. Neither case was connected to the vampires,’ he said gruffly.

‘What can happen?’ I waved at the room. ‘We’re in a police station. So this has something to do with the vamps, but my client isn’t one, and neither was the victim. I deal with vampire victims at HOPE all the time. It doesn’t cause me any hassle.’

‘You’re splitting hairs.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Genny, you’ve coped better, these last few years—and I’m proud of you—but any contact with the vampires isn’t going to improve matters.’ His frown cracks deepened. ‘What if one of them decides to take an interest in you? What’s going to happen then?’

‘I can handle it.’ I glanced at the bruises circling my wrist. An image of the Armani-suited vamp sliced through me. I clenched my left hand as something fluttered deep in my stomach. Yeah, like hell you can.

Hugh leaned forward, hands flat on the file. ‘In the past, so long as a fae didn’t venture into Sucker Town, they could be reasonably sure of not falling foul of the vampires. Even then, an adult fae doesn’t have much to fear from them. They can’t trick you with mesma, they can’t mind-lock you.’ He drummed his fingers insistently, then stopped. ‘But that won’t stop them from using force if they think it’s worth it.’

I kept my voice calm, hiding my exasperation. ‘We’ve been over this—’

‘You could end up dead, Genny.’

Of course, dead would be my first choice.

‘And don’t bother telling me fae are hard to kill,’ he continued. ‘I’ve seen it happen before. Injure any fae badly enough in mind and body and they can’t help but fade.’

‘Hugh, I know all this.’ I swirled the water in my cup, watching as it formed a tiny whirlpool. ‘I don’t need a lecture.’

‘Yes, I think that’s exactly what you need,’ he rumbled quietly. ‘I’ve told you, you can’t afford to reveal what’s wrong with you.’

I pasted an attentive look on my face and tuned him out. Hugh’s advice had always kept me safe, and I loved him to bits. But sometimes it felt like listening to his ‘advice’ was like having a stake hammered through my heart: Don’t get too friendly with the witches. Keep your distance from the fae. Stay behind a threshold after dark. Never Glamour a human, however much you trust them— Of course, the times I’d actually ignored his advice hadn’t ended up a resounding success.

Never mind that if my having 3V became public knowledge, getting the sack from my job would be the least of my worries—I wouldn’t have the chance to feel rejected when the fae gave me their collective cold-shoulder. No, the vamps would have me auctioned off to the highest bidder faster than I could shout, ‘One sidhe blood-slave, going, going, gone.’

I tuned back in as Hugh’s lecture got to the point I’d been waiting for. ‘—and it won’t take much for the witches to withdraw their protection.’

I took a deep breath, tried for another conciliatory expression. ‘Stella knows all about Alan Hinkley and who his son is. She agreed he should speak to me.’ Okay, so she hadn’t actually expected me to take the job, and she hadn’t actually answered any of my texts yet—neither of which I was going to tell Hugh, but hey, sometimes you have to go with what you’ve got—and so I added the clincher, ‘I think they’ve got some sort of thing going on between them ...’ I trailed off at his expected horrified expression.

‘What sort of thing?’ he demanded.

‘I’m not entirely sure.’

‘It doesn’t matter!’ he jabbed his finger at me. ‘She might be willing to risk her own position, but she’s one witch among many. You’ve got more to lose than she has.’

‘Fine.’ I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. Damn. Why was he so angry? I placed my cup carefully on the coaster and swallowed back my frustration. ‘Hugh, all I’ve been asked to do is look at a dead body and check it out for magic. It will take five minutes, tops. I really can’t see how the witches can possibly object to that.’

‘Are you sure that’s all?’

‘Yes, of course! ‘Hugh, I know you’re worried.’ I leaned forward, put my hands over his. His skin felt hot and gritty. ‘But I can take care of myself now, and this is just a job.’

He withdrew his hands. ‘You can tell me if there’s anything else, you know. I’d understand.’

Puzzled, I frowned at him. ‘What else could there be?’

His brow ridges lowered as he slid a sheet of paper from the file and pushed it towards me.

I looked down, blinked when I read it. It was an official form of some sort, something to do with a blood visit. I skimmed it, seeing Roberto October handwritten next to the section marked vampire.

My eyes shot up to Hugh’s. ‘What the fuck is this?’

‘Part of the updated vampires’ legal rights. They now have the right to live blood.’ He glared at me. ‘Obviously they have to provide their own willing donors, so we insist on a waiver of responsibility.’

‘I get that, Hugh, but what I want to know is why my name’s on it.’

‘Why don’t you tell me, Genny?’ He slapped his hand on the desk. ‘Explain to me why a vampire arrested for murder has put you down as his first choice on his nightly menu card?’

Before I could even think of an answer, the door swung open and the curly-haired constable came into the room. She smiled at Hugh, looked at me like I was a toad, and headed towards us.

Hugh smiled back at her, the anger clearing from his face like the sun banishing the shadows.

Shit. Why would a vampire I’d never met think I was going to put out for a free meal? There had to be some mistake. Gritting my teeth, I read down the page again, checking out the various clauses.

‘Shall I take Ms Taylor down to the cells, Sergeant?’ Constable Curly-hair stopped by the desk and leant her ample hip against it, very obviously giving me the cold shoulder.

‘What?’ His distracted tone made me look up.

As she patted her hair I caught a flash of pink at the cuff of her uniform. ‘Has she signed the form, Sir? The sucker’s getting a bit restless.’ She threw me a scornful glance. ‘Think he might be hungry.’

I narrowed my eyes. Was this why she was so down on me?

Hugh slowly turned back to me. ‘Give us a couple of minutes, please, Constable.’

‘Sure thing, Sarge,’ she said, patting his bare arm as she walked past him. ‘I’ll get some water. You just shout when you’re ready.’

Hugh twisted round to watch her go.

An idea slid into my mind and I bent my head again, skimming down the form until I found the clause I was looking for. Damn. Ignoring the anxious leap in my pulse, I read it again. So that’s what this was all about.

I leaned forward, tapped Hugh’s hand. ‘Something going on between you two?’ I nodded at Constable Curly-hair, busying herself at the water dispenser.

He shifted his attention back to me.

‘You can’t keep your eyes off her.’

‘Can’t I?’ Bewilderment fractured his face. ‘But Janet’s human—a nice human,’ he added quickly, ‘and I’m a troll.’

I shrugged. ‘So? It’s not like it doesn’t happen.’

Another large puff of dust glinted above his head ridge. ‘Human females are very nice, but they’re—’ Hugh’s skin flushed an even darker red than normal. ‘They’re too slim for me,’ he finished diplomatically.

‘Shit, Hugh.’ I snorted, throwing an unbelieving glance at the overweight constable. ‘If you think she’s slim, what do you think I am?’

‘Oh, you’re just skin and bones, Genny,’ he blurted out. ‘Not as bad as you used to be, maybe, but you still look like a good gust would blow you away.’

And there was I thinking I’d actually filled out, that my curvy bits had finally got enough curves on them to justify the description.

Hugh’s face screwed up in dismay. ‘I’m sure you look very pretty to another fae, Genny—or even a human.’ He was getting flustered. ‘Look, I can’t let you see the victim, not with this injunction, but let me ask the DI if you can at least see the initial report.’ He pushed himself up out of his chair and hurried out of the office.

Suppressing the twinge of guilt because I’d deliberately embarrassed him, I picked up one of Hugh’s overlarge pens. Pulling the Waiver of Responsibility towards me, I did my own few seconds of wavering, then signed on the dotted line. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the piece of paper and flapped it at Constable Curly-hair.

She ambled over, a sneer playing round her mouth. Plucking the Waiver form from my hand, she looked down at me. ‘What made Hugh dash off like that?’

I looked innocent.

‘Never mind, it doesn’t matter.’ She slipped the form into the folder with a satisfied air. ‘Suckers are kept in the basement. You’d better follow me.’

‘No problem.’

Time to go have dinner with a vampire.