Judged Read online

  ‘You got blood on my shirt again,’ Aiden says, and I sense he’s trying to lighten the mood. ‘You owe me a new wardrobe.’

  In my en-suite shower, I lather up and ignore the amount of blood swirling down the drain at my feet and suppress the anxiety threatening to overwhelm me. If this Dr Forster was such a good guy, why hadn’t I heard of him before? Still uneasy after I’ve dressed in blood-free clothes, I head back downstairs.

  Aiden drives us to a stately part of town just north of Regent Street. I clamber out of the car and stare up at the impressive facade, knowing I’m delaying.

  ‘Go on,’ Aiden prompts. ‘We don’t have all night.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The door opens after Aiden’s brief knock and a woman lets us in before disappearing into the inner recesses of the house. We follow Aiden into what looks like a waiting room and the heavy silence immediately bugs me. Even Dante seems affected and shifts uneasily between us.

  ‘Is it me or does it feel like we’re being watched?’ he asks, and I shake my head. I don’t feel that at all. I just feel sleepy and uncomfortable. Not two sensations I thought would go hand in hand.

  ‘The walls have been built to absorb sound.’ Aiden stretches his long legs out. ‘It makes it very difficult to accidentally overhear confidential patient–doctor stuff.’

  The door to what I assume is the consultation room, opens and Dr Forster comes out of his office. He shakes Aiden’s hand and then each of ours as we’re introduced. He looks to be in his late forties and is completely nondescript. Everything about him is calming, and it puts me on edge. I follow him into the room and he shuts the door behind us before taking his seat behind the desk. It feels weird, being around someone who can sit and regard me so thoughtfully without fidgeting. It makes me feel I should fill up the silence but I bite my lip and watch him nervously instead.

  ‘I’ve only ever dealt with one Blackhart in the past,’ he eventually says. ‘Andrew.’

  ‘My uncle Andrew. What did he do?’

  ‘He’d become ill after a witch cursed him. He’d also been poisoned and we thought he might die.’ He frowns. ‘As I recall he fought the spell after we identified the poison and went on to kill the witch. It caused quite a stir. She’d been using her magic to create love potions that actually worked. You could imagine the mess that created. So –’ he claps his hands together and I notice that he has beautiful hands – ‘what can I do for you today? Aiden mentioned something about regular nosebleeds and migraines.’

  I nod, trying to get a grip on my rabbiting heart. It takes some time but I eventually get the story out about the nosebleeds, magic, nightmares and the weird dreams. Dr Forster nods as I speak, writing rapid notes in a folder. I can see my name at the top along with a code and wonder at it. But he encourages me to talk, to tell him about my abilities and what I’ve done to control them.

  I’m not sure how long we’re in there, but I share more with him about my magic than I’ve done with anyone before. He listens intently and I find myself relaxing marginally.

  ‘Have you met other humans with magic?’ I ask him after I’ve finished speaking. ‘Or who thought they have magic?’

  ‘I have met some who thought they had abilities. And to a certain extent, some had skills that I’ve not seen generally displayed in the human populace. But certainly none of them had the kind of abilities you’ve mentioned to me tonight.’

  I close my eyes. ‘What do we do next? Do you want to see what I can do?’

  Dr Forster considers this, but then shakes his head. ‘Not immediately, no. You look ready to bolt from the room and I sense you’re not comfortable with any of this.’ His smile is gently teasing and I smile back. ‘No, I’ll just give you a quick general check-up because that’s not half as terrifying.’

  ‘Easy for you to say,’ I mutter and he laughs with good grace.

  I subject myself to being listened to, prodded, my pulse taken and my blood drawn into several different vials – all of them marked up. The last part worries me the most but his smile is calm as he senses my distress.

  ‘Your blood will not have your name on it. It will have a code identifier. I understand the world you live in, Kit, and I understand the importance of making sure your blood stays safe. No one will be able to use it against you in spells.’

  ‘Okay. Why are you drawing my blood, anyway?’

  ‘I’ll be asking for certain checks. I’ll get a full blood count. That means we’ll be able to check on your red and white blood cells, see if they’re behaving. There will also be electrolyte testing and a few other things.’ His expression is kind. ‘Next, I’ll be arranging an MRI scan. I want to see how things look inside your head.’

  I grimace. ‘I don’t think that will work.’

  ‘It’s non-invasive.’

  ‘No, I mean, the machine itself. The MRI is a giant magnet, right? It probably won’t work. I’m not good with or around electronics. Things break after I’ve been around for maybe five minutes.’

  ‘Interesting.’ He makes a further note in his folder. ‘But not that unusual.’

  I feel my worry increase when he makes more notes. ‘Okay, we may have to rethink that, then, but honestly, right now all I’m seeing is a healthy young woman who perhaps needs to eat a bit more healthily and get more rest. It could be that your nosebleeds have to do with anxiety. From what we’ve been talking about it sounds to me like you are under an unhealthy amount of stress.’

  I nod, because it could be true. Really, my life isn’t exactly moonlight and roses. But in my heart of hearts, I have the feeling that all my symptoms are tied in with my magic. Humans aren’t born equipped to handle magic, and so it’s more than likely that my brain is rotting and leaking out of my nose.

  ‘Having said that, I’ll send your bloodwork away and we should know in about three days if we have anything serious to talk about. I very much doubt it. In the meantime, I’ll be investigating the benefits of using an MRI scanner, or the equivalent thereof. I have a friend who is a powerful psychic and I’ve used her in the past to help me pinpoint how best to help a patient. I’ll contact her in the morning and, depending on your results, I’ll ask you to visit her soon. Will that be okay?’

  I must look absolutely terrified because he carefully caps the ballpoint pen he’s been using and looks at me.

  ‘Kit, let me be clear here. From what you’ve said you’re anxious about your abilities and you feel that your ability to control them is slipping. It’s my opinion that the headaches and the nosebleeds are linked to your magic. You suspect this too, am I correct?’ At my nod he continues, ‘I feel that perhaps you need a tutor or a guide, to help control your energy. My friend, the psychic, has abilities in this field. She is a strega, from a very old line of witches. She has a great deal of knowledge and I am sure that with her assistance we will be able to help you.’ He watches me for a few more seconds. ‘And, as you’re a Blackhart, my next bit of advice may be met with some amusement, but I’d prescribe some rest, perhaps a holiday. You don’t strike me as an overly anxious person – and yet you’ve reported a lack of ability to sleep for an extended period and I’ve seen traces of your hypervigilance whilst you’ve been here. Again, it makes me think that the migraines, the nosebleeds, everything you feel is wrong with you, are all interlinked. It’s my job to help you fix that – if you will let me help you.’

  I take a deep breath. ‘You make it sound so simple.’

  ‘Maybe because sometimes it is simple.’ His expression is gentle. ‘Now, I know your friends are dying to drag you off on some other adventures and I can almost hear Aiden complaining about the uncomfortable chairs, so I’m going to let you go. But, Kit, take my card and if anything happens that is out of the ordinary –’ his lips twist here – ‘I need you to call me. I know you’re scared and I would be too, but you’re my patient now and I have a great many friends who I can talk to if I’m unable to help you. The supernatural community is large. And, contrary to
what the Blackharts may have told you, not everyone is out to get you.’

  He says the last bit jokingly but he’s given me something to think about. I pull on my jacket and wrap my scarf around my neck.

  ‘Thank you for listening and for not thinking I’m crazy.’

  He pulls open the door and Aiden is right there, looking tense and pale.

  Dr Forster gives both Dante and Aiden a reassuring smile. ‘Call me, if you need anything, Kit. We’ll speak soon.’ Without waiting for a response, he closes the door and I look at Aiden.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘We have to go, right now. Something’s happened.’

  I shoot a look at Dante, who’s already heading for the corridor. I want to ask what’s happened but Aiden’s expression tells me that it’s something really bad and that he’s not going to tell me until we’re out of here.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The way Aiden and Dante move, as a unit, frightens me. They’re suddenly behaving like two super-anxious bodyguards, and I wonder what’s happened in the short space of time since I left them. It’s only once we’re in the car that Aiden breaks the tense silence.

  ‘Connor and Shaun have been kidnapped.’ He starts the car with short jerky motions. ‘My dad called from St Petersburg. It’s the Jericho Gang.’

  ‘Are they asking for ransom?’

  ‘They’re not asking for anything. My dad was sent this.’

  I take the phone from him and wince when I see his two older brothers blindfolded and kneeling shirtless on the stone floor in some kind of warehouse. I can’t see their faces well, but I recognize the palm-sized Celtic knotwork tattoo of the Hound of Ulster that both Connor and Shaun have inked over their hearts. It alludes to the Garretts’ familial connection to Irish folk hero Cu Chulainn – and I know Aiden’s due to receive the mark on his twenty-first birthday.

  Both Garretts are covered in a network of cuts and bruises. But even kneeling and in obvious discomfort, neither of them looks defeated. It lifts my heart a little.

  ‘Why haven’t they healed?’ I ask. ‘Some of those bruises look bad.’

  ‘Silver. Whoever’s torturing them knows about werewolves. We’re guessing their captors are using a mix of silver and wolfsbane – because even if they can’t shift, those wounds should look better than they do, even if they’re fresh. We can heal most things over a couple of hours, days even. But it’s a hell of a struggle when there’s silver and wolfsbane involved.’ Aiden’s gaze meets mine. ‘I have to do something. We have to help them.’

  ‘There’s no question about that,’ I say vehemently. ‘Let’s just get home first. Then I’ll ring Uncle Andrew and let him know what’s going on.’

  Dante drops a comforting hand on the back of Aiden’s neck and I lean sideways in the passenger seat and put my arms around him. He sighs deeply and after a few minutes I let him go. I can’t even begin to figure out how the Jericho Gang took both Connor and Shaun. The two oldest Garretts travel extensively for their father, and I know Jonathan Garrett relies on Connor to be his right-hand man when it comes to their businesses in Europe and North America. Shaun is mostly in charge of Aiden, as he handles pack business in London and the UK. But, even so, he’s hardly at home. They have one more brother, Cillian, who no one really ever talks about and who I’ve never met. He’s between Shaun and Connor in age and apparently refuses to have anything to do with his family. In a family of werewolves, he was born human.

  ‘Do you think they’ll go after my family too?’ I ask, as the thought hits me and I turn to Dante in alarm. ‘Kyle and Marc are in Devon. I mean, they’re alone out at the new build for the Manor and they’ll be completely unprepared for attack.’

  ‘It’s possible. Ring them now, and tell them to be careful,’ Dante says. He’s still talking when I see his eyes widen in shock. Then bright lights slide over his face and I feel a terrible impact as we’re rammed by a vehicle that wasn’t there two seconds earlier. The sound of tearing metal fills the air. The Cayenne spins wildly out of control across both lanes, into any oncoming traffic. Thankfully there’s no one around because it’s the middle of the night.

  I’m flung forward and to the side and reach blindly to prevent myself from head-butting the dashboard. The airbags deploy and I’m punched back in my seat. I find my knife in my boot and manage to struggle out of the seatbelt but my fingers refuse to move properly and I lose my knife in the foot-well. There’s shouting and the sound of running feet but it doesn’t sound like concerned citizens. Those are heavy boots, military. Which means this isn’t an accident. This is something else.

  My door is pulled open and I let myself go limp, trying to figure out what’s going on. My head is spinning and someone punches the airbags so they go down completely and I’m pulled out of the passenger seat. It’s hard for them to manipulate someone who’s swooning and loose-limbed. I’m dropped unceremoniously in the middle of the road; I close my eyes and play unconscious.

  ‘She’s out of it,’ a gruff voice says. ‘Get the others. Caleb wants them alive.’

  There’s the sound of punches landing and my world comes sharply back into focus. There are six of them and they’re all big meaty guys and look the business. Two large SUVs are parked near the Cayenne and one has an incriminatingly crushed front-end. No one is paying me any attention and I get my legs under me slowly, until the earth is solid below my booted feet. The Cayenne is between me and the fight but I can just see three guys trying to contain Aiden, who’s fighting and snarling savagely – more wolf than boy. Dante has one of his opponents mewling and crawling on the floor and the other guy looks wary as he moves around him, staying out of range of those long legs and hard fists. The guy that’s been set to look after me is just watching his mates fighting. I feel offended. I hate not being considered a threat, even when I’m technically out of a fight.

  My watcher doesn’t see me coming at all, his attention absolutely elsewhere. I waste no time being smooth or fair in my attack. I stamp down on the back of his left knee and, as his balance shifts backwards, I grab his hair and pull him further towards me. I punch him on the side of the throat as there’s a tiny set of nerves clustered there. If punched hard enough it causes the attackee to pass out. I’ve practised the move with Jamie enough times to be pretty sure my aim’s right and, even as I strike, I hold my breath. He makes a soft surprised noise and then he’s gone, legs buckling beneath him. I help him to the ground, grunting against his weight.

  I find zip ties in his back pocket and quickly tie him up before I duck back into the foot-well of the car and find my knife. It’s faster to climb through the car and out of the driver’s side and I prepare to do that, just as Aiden physically picks up one of his attackers and hurls him a few metres through the air. He crashes into the side of one of their parked SUVs, grunts and slides bonelessly to the ground.

  Aiden lets out a snarl as the second of his attackers gets a lucky slice in at his ribs. The smell of blood is heavy in the air and Aiden flashes his teeth in pain.

  Aiden’s two attackers haven’t seen me and I slide quietly out of the car. I tap the nearest guy on the shoulder and when he swings around, I punch him hard with the pommel of the knife on the nose and he goes down. Just to make sure, when I move past, I step on the hand that holds his knife. There’s the distinct pop of bone snapping and he lets out a loud scream before passing out. I retrieve his knife, which is black steel, military grade – they’re clearly well-supplied by someone.

  Dante’s guy looks worried, because now he only has one team-mate left. And after a few rounds with Dante, the guy’s face is already one big bruise with an ugly cut just below the eye. Dante seems happy to just keep hitting him, evading badly aimed punches and keeping a wary eye on any sweeping legs. In the end the guy just throws his hands up after a particularly hard rabbit-punch from Dante which jerks his head back with a snap. The attacker curls into a ball at Dante’s feet, sobs escaping from his heaving chest.

  Dante c
rouches down at his side and, as I did, easily finds the zip tie handcuffs in his pockets and slides them on.

  Aiden’s guy makes one last effort to throw a punch but even as he’s swinging he’s already decided that running is a better option. Aiden gives him no chance at all and brings him down a few paces away with both boots to the small of his back. The guy face-plants in the street and even from a distance, I can hear the wind knocked out of him and possibly some teeth breaking as Aiden lands on him with a little too much force.

  Aiden shakes his hair out of his face and stands up, hauling his attacker upright and marching him back. The guy looks badly dazed and he’s not at all steady on his feet, sinking to the ground in a heap when he reaches us.

  I kneel down next to the guy who I busted. It looks like he’s struggling to breathe through his bleeding nose so I prop him up against the wheel of the car and manhandle him so his head is upright. Aiden shoves his guy next to his unconscious buddy, leaning him up against the car, and wastes no time tying him up too, his movements rough.

  ‘This is getting damn annoying,’ he mutters as he glares at our attackers. We were set upon on a relatively isolated stretch of road bordering a park – I guess the best they could manage for an unobserved London ambush. No cars or early morning dog-walkers are out yet, but our luck might not hold. Aiden sits back on his heels and stares at me and Dante. ‘But it could have been worse.’

  ‘I’m calling the SDI,’ Dante says, holding his phone in a bit of a daze. Then he thumbs a number and rubs a shaking hand over his face. I vaguely listen to him as he gives details of our attack to the Spook operator on the other end of the line. ‘I think it’s best if you merely call this in to the local cops on patrol,’ he advises. ‘We definitely don’t want to be involved and the less … Yes. Exactly. We suspect an attempted kidnapping. I’m with Aiden Garrett and Kit Blackhart.’ The level of noise on the other end of the line becomes loud and Dante grimaces, pulling the phone away from his ear slightly. Aiden’s murderous expression lessens a bit and he grins when he hears what they’re yelling at Dante. I doubt they are extolling our virtues. ‘No, neither of them had anything to do with the attack. We think it’s connected to a case we’re working on. We think the guys have ties to the Jericho Gang. Call it a hunch.’ He rolls his eyes but then nods. ‘As soon as you can, yes. Thank you, Zoe. I owe you.’ He pockets his phone. ‘We’re leaving as soon as we hear the sirens. Make sure they’re all tied up.’