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  ‘. . . be ready, Odalis?’

  ‘He is stubborn, your majesty. It is taking longer than expected to win him over.’ The woman’s features in the mirror weren’t clear but her self-important tone was unmistakable.

  ‘I’m starting to think I chose the wrong tutor.’

  ‘Feel free to replace me, your majesty. I will of course bow to your superior choice.’

  Aelfric huffed at that. ‘Odalis, all I am asking from you is a report on how my son’s abilities are progressing.’

  ‘And I am telling you, your majesty, that his abilities are not what we expected. He has taken to his training remarkably well. He spends days in the chamber, and when he comes out he vibrates with such power. It’s even obvious to some of the servants, even if they have no magic. He often proceeds to lock himself in his room, refusing to talk to me or anyone else on these occasions. He makes the servants uncomfortable and they mutter that the storms that lash the tower are his doing.’

  ‘Superstitious twaddle.’ Aelfric dismissed the thought with an impatient growl.

  ‘If you say so, your highness.’ Her voice indicated that she wasn’t entirely sure that the servants were wrong.

  ‘I need him to be ready by Midwinter. See to it that the Guardian of the Realms does not lose his mind and sense of self in the meantime. I do not want to present a drooling idiot to my closest allies.’

  Thorn pulled back from the conversation, feeling revulsion. It was not the first time that he’d seen things that left him feeling sullied. Yet, hearing his father speak about him so coldly, as if he were a mere pawn in his schemes, brought home how little Aelfric cared for him.

  Thorn allowed himself to fall back into the songlines, burrowing deep within the magic, letting it flow over him. They soothed him, carrying away all negative thoughts and feelings of impotent anger.

  Odalis pushed open the door to her charge’s room. The room was bathed in the harvest moon’s golden light, but in spite of all the light, the room held darkness, drawn by the prince’s dreams. She stood for a moment, breathing in the cool night air before moving to the side of the bed.

  Thorn lay tangled in his bedclothes, a frown drawing his brows together. Even in sleep he wrestles with his destiny. The thought came to her and she pushed it firmly aside. She watched him silently for a few more moments, noting with interest how faded he seemed: partly there, partly in the dream realm.

  How long has this been happening? What has drawn him into the realm of dreams so utterly that he leaves himself open to attack in this way?

  ‘It is time to wake, boy.’ Her voice was barely a whisper in the darkness.

  He came awake instantly, the knife from beneath his pillow held firmly in his hand, the cutting edge a hair’s breadth from the delicate skin of her throat.

  ‘Odalis?’ He blinked at her in surprise, taking in the slowly receding darkness, the full moon, the impossible hour and, even more impossibly, her presence, unchallenged by any guard, in his room.

  He did not move the knife from her throat, which was as it should be. She kept her face passive, waiting for him to assess her and decide if she ranked as a threat at this time. The knife eventually dropped to his side and she gave a small nod.

  ‘None other. Get dressed. We have training to do.’

  She left the room as silently as she had entered, prodding the sleeping guard with a finger. He snorted in his sleep before jerking upright.

  ‘He’s awake. See him to the top floor.’

  The guard looked ashamed to be caught napping but managed to muster the appropriate small salute.

  ‘Yes, Lady Firesky.’

  Odalis barely refrained from sending a bolt of energy searing into the imbecile. She could have been an assassin who, impossible as the thought may be, might have gained access to the tower to kill both its occupants.

  She resolved to speak with Aelfric and have the current guards replaced with a more experienced group. It would not do to have their plans come apart before they had even begun.

  Chapter Five

  I drop to the ground beneath some trees in the park and lie on my back, gasping for air. Aiden collapses next to me and lifts his T-shirt to wipe his face. Two girls jog past and almost get whiplash from looking at his bared abs before they stumble into one another, right themselves and then jog on, laughing.

  ‘You are a menace to society,’ I inform him, in case he didn’t know.

  He pretends innocence but I shake my head, wearing my disapproving face.

  ‘It’s not my fault I’m this devastating.’

  ‘Devastatingly boring,’ I say. ‘What do you talk about when you hang out with girls who don’t know who you are? Don’t you ever, you know, want to tell just one of them: “Hey, I’m a werewolf and I fight monsters”?’

  He looks at me in surprise. ‘I do know how to talk to girls, you know. Normal girls too.’ When I roll my eyes at the ‘normal girls’ jibe he nudges me. ‘Okay, so maybe some of them are a bit intense but none of them has tried to feed me to an ogre or anything.’

  ‘Well, that was a mistake. You annoyed me. I did tell you I was sorry afterwards.’ It was true. He at least had to give me points for honesty.

  Now that I’ve had a decent run – and running with Aiden is never just a light jog, it always turns competitive and full on – I feel more comfortable, looser limbed.

  I accept the water bottle he holds out to me and take a long swig before handing it back. Aiden takes a gulp and splashes water onto his face and over his head, spraying me with water when he shakes himself. I shove him away from me in distaste and he just laughs.

  ‘What are you doing tonight? Fancy hanging out at Milton’s?’ I ask. The place is one of our favourite clubs. The music is good, the venue itself is decent enough, but what makes it special is that it’s run by an Infernal called Miron. The club is a neutral zone. Everyone in the supernatural community can go and hang out there, no questions asked. The dance floor is usually occupied by the younger paranormals while the upper mezzanine with its quiet booths and private rooms for hire, is where the older crowd go. It’s a known haunt for doing business deals and maybe just relaxing, taking in the ambiance.

  Interestingly, a lot of humans go to Milton’s and there’s yet to be any kind of incident. It really is a showcase of how things could be, if humans knew about the supernatural creatures that shared their space and didn’t have an issue with it.

  ‘It depends on what my dad wants me to do later today,’ Aiden says. ‘There’s a wolf conclave coming up and he’s got his hands full arranging things.’

  ‘Cool. Suola said she’d like to meet me at around midnight, so I’ll head out there possibly at about nine. We could grab dinner before at Lucy’s? Then go and dance till it’s time to meet her.’

  Aiden sits up and pulls me up too so we face one another. His expression is very serious and his eyes have gone dark.

  ‘She wants to see you? Alone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Any idea why?’

  I shrug and pluck at the grass blades at my feet. ‘Nope.’

  ‘Are you worried?’

  I grimace at him and he holds up his hands in apology.

  ‘I am worried, of course. I mean, she’s, you know . . .’

  ‘A Fae queen.’ His voice is low and I’m aware we’re sitting in an in-between place. The shadows beneath the tree can easily carry our conversation to her. She’s a Fae queen, one of the most powerful in Alba. Suola is only slightly less powerful than the high king himself and just as powerful as the Sun King. In fact, I realize with a start, we’re heading into her time of year. Now that summer’s come to a close and autumn’s appeared, Suola’s reign will be the stronger. The Sun King is governed by spring and summer and shares an uneasy alliance with her for autumn, but once the nights draw in and we head into winter, we’re at Suola’s mercy.

  ‘Do you think that’s why the Spook came to visit? They found out that she wants to see you in person?’
/>   I look at Aiden in surprise. I haven’t even considered that.

  ‘It doesn’t really make any sense. What would they know that we don’t know? I mean, the hob that came by didn’t know why she wanted to see me. How could the Spook Squad know?’

  We sit and ponder the weirdness of the whole situation for a few seconds until I grow bored and stagger upright. ‘Come on. Let’s get back. I’m starving. You can buy me a burger.’

  Aiden grimaces at my prodding but lets me haul him upright eventually and we set off towards the high street and its range of restaurants.

  I nod at the doorman as I walk up to the front of Milton’s. There’s a queue of around thirty people waiting to get in. They’re a mixture of human and paranormals but everyone looks human. Glamour is a requirement of the club and it’s strictly enforced by Miron’s security team. The only ones allowed to drop the glamour are the waiting staff and the bartender, if they so choose, and then it’s understood that they tell human customers that they are actors, wearing make-up and prosthetics. No one has reason to disbelieve them and it gives Milton’s an even cooler vibe if humans think models and actors hang out there.

  The doorman, one of Miron’s hand-picked security types, gives me a slow nod. The guy is as wide as the door he’s standing in front of and almost as tall.

  ‘Lady Blackhart. Good to see you again. Business or pleasure tonight?’ His voice rumbles in his chest. He uses the title that annoys me so much, but sometimes you have to pick your fights. He’s a big guy, and I’m not dressed for a fight, so I smile sweetly.

  ‘A bit of both, Rorke. If Aiden arrives, get him to find me?’

  He nods as he turns to lift the rope blocking the entrance for me.

  ‘I’ll tell him you’re here when I see him,’ he promises. ‘Have a good evening. Try not to get into trouble.’

  I pretend to look wounded at the admonishment but he gives me an ‘I’ve warned you’ look that tells me he’s serious, so I keep my mouth shut and walk confidently into the yawning darkness of the building. Behind me I hear voices raised in argument because he’s let through someone who didn’t queue up. Then he rumbles something and the voices of dissent disappear.

  I pay a tenner and hold my wrist out to Cindy and she stamps Milton’s UV club stamp on it. Cindy’s a pretty girl, with delicate features and big eyes. She wears her faerie wings visible to the naked eye and is surprisingly strong for someone so fragile-looking. She keeps hold of my wrist so that the ink can dry.

  ‘You carrying?’ she asks me.

  ‘Not tonight,’ I say. ‘Well, nothing big anyway. Just my knife.’

  Cindy rolls her eyes. ‘Kit. A knife?’

  I look towards the doorway and bend down to slide it out of my boot. ‘See? It’s only small.’

  ‘Your idea of small and my idea of small are not the same. But it’s fine. Just keep it sheathed, okay? Try not to stab anyone accidentally like the last time.’

  ‘I did say it was an accident. So did she.’

  She just looks at me. ‘I can make you lock it up.’

  I sigh and nod. Gently removing my wrist from her grip, I head deeper into the building. I push through the soundproof doors and the full blast of the pounding music hits me full in the face. The place is heaving with a capacity crowd.

  I stand to the side for a few seconds, just checking things out. There’s a higher percentage of humans than paranormals present tonight, which is how Miron prefers it. The humans, although they are never fully aware of it, tend to sense when they aren’t the majority in the room and mishaps start happening all over the place. I’ve seen it in the past and had to run interference on nights like that. I also realize I’m referring to my own species as human and not including myself. I know it’s weird, believe me, but now that I’ve lived almost two years with magic and the Otherwhere in my life I can’t help but see myself as only marginally human.

  The barman spots me and lifts a hand in greeting as he shakes a cocktail and pours it over ice for two girls. Philippe is one of the most astonishingly gorgeous creatures I have ever met. He is also a centaur and a devotee of Bacchus, the god of wine and revelry. The guy is dangerous to be around and knows more about alcohol and how to mix it into concoctions than any other person I’ve ever come across – even my faraway Uncle Richard who runs a bar in the Caribbean.

  Without breaking stride, he tosses me a bottle of water that I catch without a problem. I twist off the cap and take a long deep drink before walking onto the dance floor. The music welcomes me like a long-lost daughter and I find a group of girls I recognize from other nights and wordlessly join them.

  The DJ is one of the best Miron’s had in here for ages and he knows how to play the crowd. We dance and throw ourselves around with abandon and, by the time my bottled water’s finished, my loose cotton blouse is damp with sweat. I push off the floor and head towards the ladies’ when someone steps in my way. I eddy around him, but he moves the same way.

  I look up in annoyance and close my mouth in surprise as I recognize the Spook from earlier today. Only now he’s dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt that shows off well-muscled arms and an interesting tribal-type tattoo peeking from beneath the sleeve. He’s not wearing his glasses and I get the full impact of his dark eyes.

  ‘Are you following me?’ I demand, pitching my voice so he can hear me above the music. ‘If you are, I can ask for you to be thrown out.’

  A black brow arches in surprise. ‘No, I’m not following you. I’m here to have some fun before going on to a meeting.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Maybe you’re following me?’

  I open my mouth to deny it when he smiles and I forget to be annoyed with him for just a second or two. Then I scowl at him, giving him a patented Kit dismissal.

  ‘No. I have better things to do with my life than follow you,’ I tell him, moving past him. ‘Just stay out of my way, okay? I don’t want anything to do with you.’

  ‘Fine by me,’ he replies, watching me thoughtfully. ‘But I do think you’ll find that we’ll be seeing more of one another than you might like.’

  I shake my head at him in disbelief before walking into the ladies’ where I rinse my hands and make use of the facilities. I check my make-up to make sure I don’t have panda eyes before heading back out again. I make my way to the bar and pay for my bottled water and get another.

  Philippe beckons me closer and I lean over the bar towards him.

  ‘That guy you were speaking with earlier? He’s been asking about you.’ I follow his gaze and see the Spook standing near the dance floor, watching the dancers.

  ‘What did he want to know?’

  ‘How often you come here. If you come here alone. Stuff like that.’ Philippe’s most recently from the Bronx and sounds like a TV gangster on a good day but tonight he just sounds dangerous and protective. ‘You want me to get Rorke?’

  ‘No, it’s fine. I can handle him.’

  ‘He’s older and bigger than you,’ Philippe says, sounding genuinely concerned.

  ‘The bigger they are, the harder they fall,’ I intone, quoting Jamie. I pick up my bottle of water. ‘Thanks for this. What time is it?’

  He checks his watch. ‘Just gone eleven.’ Then his eyes go wide. ‘You’re seeing her, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yep.’

  He swears something and it doesn’t sound American at all, rather it sounds Greek. ‘Do you want anything stronger?’ he asks me. ‘On the house.’

  ‘No. Tonight I’m not drinking. I need all my wits about me.’ I say the last bit with some dryness and he laughs because he knows I never drink alcohol.

  ‘Fine then, but just say the word.’

  I drift back through the crowd and find my dancing partners. A few guys have joined in but as usual they have no clue how to move and do their best to hit on the girls as they throw themselves around. The girls soon enough close their circle and we’re once more a small clique on the floor, bouncing to the music.

/>   Chapter Six

  The DJ blends one dance track seamlessly into the next and I’m pretty sure he’s a magician because I’ve not felt this enthusiastic on a dance floor in ages. I move to the rhythm of the beat and relish the feel of the bass line as it trembles through me, firing my blood and increasing my heartbeat. Some of the tracks I recognize, others are completely new to me. The friends I’m with move around me, but none of them leaves for very long.

  We’re a small tribe within the greater horde of bodies and it feels good to be part of something yet completely anonymous. I finish my second water and head back to Philippe to get another one. He passes it to me amid serving other customers and I head back without even thinking of taking a break.

  I join the circle again and see that the Spook’s on the dance floor. The girls seem taken with him, flashing him appreciative smiles and welcoming nods. He returns the smiles but, unlike every other guy who tried to break into the circle, he doesn’t attempt to pair up with a girl of his choice. Instead he stays with the group and dances with us. And, annoyingly, his moves aren’t bad. He’s light on his feet and he knows how to laugh at himself when he fumbles the rhythm.

  He catches me watching him a few times and winks at me. I flush and look away but refuse to move off the floor. Not until my time’s up and I have to go and talk to Suola.

  Even this far onto the floor we sense the disruption at the entrance. I look over, thankful for my height, and spot a group of people just coming in. It’s a large group and the way the crowd shifts from them tells me that whoever they are, they’re a big deal.

  It has to be Suola and she’s early and drawing attention. The supernatural creatures present seem frozen in place, shock and awe registering on many faces. Those who bow to the Queen of the Unseelie Court drop into curtsies and do that weird thing that freaks me out: they bare their necks to her. Girls with long hair scoop their hair away from their necks and incline their heads, men tug at their collars. They are utterly submissive in her presence.