Vowed Page 5

She’s past, swept by her retainers up the restricted-access stairs and into the private meeting rooms beyond on the mezzanine floor. If she’s seen anyone she recognizes, none was acknowledged, but I suspect she knows exactly who was present and how fast each one was to bow.

  None of the humans present seems to have noticed anything amiss and I turn back towards the dance floor. The Spook – what was his name? Dante? – for the first time looks a little nonplussed, but when he catches my eye he gives me a small tight smile.

  Was Aiden right? Is his presence here something to do with Suola wanting to see me? What is the mysterious meeting he is attending this late at night? Suola, as far as our files tell us, never deals with humans, not directly, at least.

  At ten to midnight I edge my way off the dance floor and as I do so I’m aware of Dante following me. I ignore him and go to the ladies’ once more. I press some tissues to my face, getting rid of most of my perspiration. My mascara and eye shadow haven’t run too badly and I repair both as much as I can. From my back pocket I slip out my compact and also slick some lippy across my mouth.

  As suspected, Dante’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He smiles when he sees me.

  ‘Hi, again,’ he says brightly, projecting so he can be heard over the music.

  I scowl at him. ‘You don’t listen, do you? I told you to leave me alone.’

  He shrugs. ‘And I keep telling you we’ll be seeing one another again and you just ignore me.’ He gestures to the stairs. ‘Shall we?’

  The security standing at the gate doesn’t look like much. There are two of them and they look like twins. A boy and a girl, maybe in their early twenties. Whipcord slender, both of them seem to vibrate with leashed energy. They are definitely not human and whatever they are is highly strung. I keep my hands in sight at all times because I don’t like the idea of taking them on. They are all sharp edges and fast movements.

  ‘I’m Kit Blackhart,’ I tell them. Dante introduces himself and they nod, clearly having been told that we would be coming, and unhook the rope for us. As I pass them a light frisson of magic brushes the nape of my neck. The spell would be an alarm, alerting the guards if anyone tries to pass by pretending to be someone they’re not.

  I sweep past Dante and jog up the stairs. The mezzanine floor is where Miron has his VIPs. There are a few booths occupied and I see the flash of money changing hands as we walk past. I keep my eyes facing forward, because up here plausible deniability is a way of life. Dante is less successful when it comes to not seeing.

  ‘Is that really . . . ?’

  ‘An angel drinking infernal blood? That’s what it looks like to me.’

  He pales under his natural tan and stretches his legs to keep pace with me. We come to a halt before an anonymous black door flanked by two Unseelie Fae. It takes me a second or two to decide that they are both female. Their beauty is perfectly androgynous and they are similarly dressed in form-fitting black cat-suits, complete with little ears. I have the feeling that the restless tails they each sport do not come with the suits but are part of them.

  ‘Names?’ Catwoman on the right asks us.

  We dutifully answer her. The one on the left swings the door open for us and stands aside to let us enter.

  The room’s large and comfortably appointed and looks like someone’s party room. There are large plush couches, a TV on the wall and a sound system in case you wanted your own music rather than the tunes being spun downstairs.

  I notice the man first, mostly because I’ve heard so much about him and anticipated seeing him in Suola’s presence.

  Suola’s Beast is of average height and maybe a bit on the slender side. He’s dressed in a dinner suit, the edges of his tie loose, the collar open. He looks for all the world like a slightly bored businessman pouring himself a drink after a hard day negotiating mergers in an office somewhere. The scariest thing about the Unseelie Queen’s torturer is how utterly mundane he looks, how middle aged and depressingly normal.

  Next my gaze finds Suola herself. Tonight she’s dressed in black, of course. It’s a stunning cocktail dress and she’s paired it with antique jet beads that shimmer when she moves. She’s talking to a young woman and, even though she’s on the far side of the room, it’s difficult to not stare at her.

  She is one of the most devastatingly beautiful people I have ever seen. Her skin shines in the dim light of the room. Her hair is perfectly coiffed into an elaborate updo and I’m pretty sure that the wrap that keeps it in place is in fact a live snake.

  When she looks over at us, I drown in the emerald green of her eyes. I feel myself smiling at her in a stupid way and I sway towards her, like a moth to a flame. Next to me Dante seems equally affected and we move in unison towards her.

  ‘Are they not lovely?’ Her voice is modulated and vibrant, holding amusement. She’s talking to the young woman by her side. ‘Just look at them. So earnest.’

  ‘Your majesty,’ I say, doing a curtsy Uncle Andrew would be proud of, even if it is spoiled by the fact that I’m wearing skinny jeans and biker boots.

  Dante does a small formal bow from the waist and smiles at her. He looks utterly smitten, the fool.

  The young woman with the queen moves towards us and gestures to the comfortable sofas.

  ‘Feel free to sit down. Can I get you anything to drink? Or eat, perhaps?’

  I shake my head and move to stand by one of the couches. ‘No, thank you, I’m fine.’ I stay standing, watching Suola carefully. Etiquette demands that we stay standing until she decides to sit. She notices my hesitation and inclines her head before carefully sitting down in one of the single armchairs.

  ‘A glass of water, please,’ Dante says, smiling at the woman before sitting down next to me.

  It immediately annoys me because there are other couches he could have chosen. He’s not very near but close enough to be in my way if something happens. I shoot him a venomous glance before settling back.

  ‘I must thank you both for coming here,’ Suola says, smiling at us benignly, her gaze flickering between us both. ‘You’ve worked for me in the past, individually, through your organizations. I’ve decided that the next matter would benefit from both your expertise, but I want you to be the ones to choose to accept the task.’

  The young woman passes Dante his glass of water and he places it on the table next to him, but doesn’t take a sip. Clever boy. Another rule: if the noble in the room isn’t eating or drinking, you don’t either. A part of me is impressed with him knowing the correct etiquette. But another part of me wonders about Dante having worked for Suola in the past, or rather, having the HMDSDI investigate things on her behalf. We had been under the impression that she never deals with human authorities. I tuck the titbit away to mention to Uncle Andrew later.

  ‘I’ve taken the liberty of preparing files for you with all the information you may need. The crux of the matter is this: someone is stealing children in South London and it’s affecting the goodwill in the area. I have businesses that are reporting a downturn and the – how do I put this delicately – the energy is damaging to those of my people who frequent the area. I want you to find out who is responsible for taking these children, find out if they are alive, and if they are, restore them to their families. If they are not, I want you to hunt down these child thieves and send them to my Beast for . . .’ She smiles and her teeth seem very sharp and white against the vibrant red of her lips. ‘For interrogation.’

  Not too unusual so far, as jobs went. I take the file the Fae holds out to me before she moves on to pass one to Dante. We flick the files open at the same time. There are photos, police reports and newspaper articles clipped into the file. The files aren’t very thick and I feel sad that the disappearance of a handful of children isn’t bigger news.

  ‘Have your people heard anything about the disappearances?’ I ask her. ‘Are there rumours about the thief being human or paranormal? Anything concrete?’

  ‘They have asked around and they
have a name.’ This comes from the Beast. He moves from behind the small bar and walks towards us. The polished black cane that supports his weight surprises me. ‘The children in the area have taken to calling him the Ragged Man.’ He moves and takes a seat opposite us, stretching one leg out in front of him. He sees my gaze directed to it and smiles wryly. ‘Old age. Not as sprightly as I once was.’

  I smile back, close-lipped, and look back at Suola. She’s watching her Beast with a look of great consideration and for a second it looks as if she pities him, but then her gaze turns back to us.

  ‘Do you have any further questions?’

  ‘Why have you asked to see us personally?’ Dante asks. ‘It’s flattering, your majesty, but we are both very young. Inexperienced.’

  Hey, I want to shout at him, speak for yourself. I may be young but my experience is pretty impressive. Instead I find my scowl deepening when I look at him. Suola sees this and gives a low laugh.

  ‘I think you’ve just offended your partner, Mr Alexander. It’s a valid question, although an impertinent one, assuming that I don’t know what I’m doing.’ She trails off meaningfully and takes obvious delight in the blush creeping up his neck. ‘I am joking. I decided to come to you directly because of the age of the children involved. The community is distrustful of government officials. It is easier to have two young people, such as yourselves, investigating the disappearances, asking questions. You are more likely to get answers.’ She stands up and we both immediately follow suit, like puppets on a string. ‘Also, I wanted to meet you in person. I have heard glowing reports from your superiors and thought it was time to see who you were. And I am not remotely disappointed.’

  The smile she directs at us makes me dizzy. I beam back at her and feel so happy just being around her, that I consider asking her for a permanent position, but I’m interrupted by the Beast moving, attempting to stand up, but dropping back onto the couch with a groan. I step forward, bracing my arm, and help him stand. He leans against me and I feel the solidity of his mass beneath his beautifully cut jacket.

  ‘Thank you, my dear. You do an old man a service.’

  Up close I realize he is older than I thought but no less attractive for it, for an older man, that is. His eyes, a rich hazel, twinkle down at me and I smile back.

  ‘Always happy to help the elderly and infirm,’ I joke and he laughs, pulling away from me so he can straighten himself to his full height.

  ‘You flatter us, your majesty.’ Dante’s moved towards the door, assuming the interview is over. He has his file in his hand and I grab mine where I dropped it on the couch. ‘Thank you for the opportunity. Do we have the chance to discuss the case with one another?’

  I open my mouth to explain that the Blackharts and Spooks never ever work a case together but the Beast fumbles his stick. I catch it before it hits the ground and hand it back to him. It happens quickly, but by the time I’m ready to raise my argument, the moment’s passed and Suola stands by the door, her hand resting on the handle.

  ‘I expect your answers by dawn,’ she says. ‘I will send Melusine for your answer. Be at the Cutty Sark pier by dawn, regardless of your answer.’ She turns away but swings around a moment later. ‘Oh, and one more thing: I want you both. If either one of you decides against taking this on, the other cannot continue it alone. Is that clear?’

  Chapter Seven

  The night air is cool against my skin as we step out of the club. I push my fringe back and take a deep breath to clear my mind before turning to look at Dante.

  ‘How did you know?’ I ask him. ‘How did you know that I would be at tonight’s meeting too?’ No one told me that the meeting would be about partnering up on the same case, so who told him?

  Dante’s expression is a bit smug. ‘I have my sources.’

  ‘You could have warned me.’ I scowl at an inoffensive rubbish bin and just about refrain from kicking it. I hate having stuff kept from me.

  I realize a few metres down the road that he’s been herding me away from the club without my noticing. I stop and frown at him.

  ‘I don’t want to work with you.’

  He shrugs. ‘Then we tell Melusine when we see her in Greenwich at dawn in a few hours.’

  I bare my teeth at him in frustration, a bad habit I’ve picked up from Aiden. ‘You are irritating.’

  ‘Suola seemed to like me well enough.’

  Argh! Was he that dumb?

  ‘I think what we need to do is to get you sober and we can talk about the kids going missing.’ He moves past me and beckons me to follow him. ‘There’s an all-night cafe around the corner that I know of. They do great coffee.’

  ‘Why would you think I’ve been drinking?’ I ask him, annoyed by the assumption but tempted by ‘great coffee’.

  ‘I watched you down three bottles of whatever that barman gave you. Either you are far more hard core than anyone I’ve ever met or your metabolism is screwed up.’

  I start laughing and it stops him in his tracks. He turns around and frowns at me.

  ‘What did I say that’s so funny?’

  ‘You! You think I’ve been drinking? I wish I could let you go on believing that. It would do wonders for my street cred but, no, the stuff I was “downing” was bottled holy water.’

  ‘You’re lying.’

  I shrug as I catch up with him. ‘Believe whatever you like.’

  He falls in next to me and I try not to notice how his stride matches mine. The night air is warm and breathless and I push irritably at my fringe, which has grown just a tiny bit longer than is comfortable.

  ‘Where is this amazing coffee shop?’ I ask him.

  ‘Just there.’ I turn to look and I swear I’ve never seen this place before – or if I had, it’s never made much of an impression. It looks like a normal all-day-breakfast caff: the sort that makes its money from white van drivers stopping in for giant mugs of tea and artery-clogging breakfasts.

  ‘Lead on,’ I say and follow him across the road. The place is brightly lit and we choose seats by the window. The waitress, with a name badge reading Hilary, takes our orders for drinks and saunters off. We’re the only people in here.

  Dante places his folder on the table between us, his long fingers with their neatly trimmed nails tapping a rhythm on the cover. ‘I think we should take on this case.’

  ‘Why?’ I counter. ‘Why do you think that? Why isn’t she talking to our respective’ – I do air quotes – ‘organizations about it directly? Let them decide?’

  ‘I think her curiosity has got the better of her. She wanted to meet us, like she said. I’ve worked on two jobs for her now and seem to have impressed her. I’m sure that whatever it is you’ve done has impressed her too.’

  My lip curls. Whatever I’ve done? The way he spoke made it sound as if maybe I had tracked down some of her favourite chocolates. I bite back a retort and refuse to be lured into talking about any of the Blackhart jobs we’ve done for Suola – or anyone of the others, for that matter.

  ‘Your drinks,’ Hilary the waitress says, putting the mugs down in front of us. My coffee looks and smells like poison and I sigh in relief. ‘If you want anything else, just shout. I’m at the back, just over there.’ She points to the counter where there’s a small desk set up before she moves off again.

  ‘It’s a big deal that she came here in person, right?’ Dante asks me as he stirs far too much sugar into his milky tea. ‘I think we should feel flattered.’

  ‘It’s as big as the Pope coming to your church for a service,’ I say. ‘I choose to be scared. There’s something else that’s going on, another game altogether, and we don’t know what it is.’ The coffee is strong and bitter and it hits the spot perfectly.

  ‘So that’s why you’re not even going to look at the file?’

  ‘Five children have been taken from their homes during the night. No sign of an intruder. No one caught on the CCTV cameras around the estate, no one woke up, no eyewitnesses, nothing. The childr
en are all under eight years of age.’

  He looks at me in surprise. ‘You’ve heard of this before?’

  ‘No. It’s what I read in the file when she gave it to us.’

  ‘You have an eidetic memory?’

  ‘No.’ How do I explain my magic? What I see, I SEE completely? ‘I just have a good head for facts.’

  He grunts and opens the file, turning it sideways so we can both see it, ignoring the fact that I was also provided with a file.

  He flips through the pages as I watch, occasionally sipping my coffee. There is something . . . something. It hits me and I pull the file closer. I feel my curiosity being piqued when I look at the dates the children were taken.

  ‘You seeing something?’

  ‘Maybe.’ I get up out of my chair. ‘I need to talk to my uncle.’

  He stays seated as I leave the cafe. I stand outside to call Uncle Andrew’s number.

  ‘Kit?’ Uncle Andrew rumbles. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine, sir. I’ve just come out of the meeting with her majesty and I have all my limbs.’

  His chuckle makes me smile. ‘What did she want?’

  ‘She wants us to investigate the disappearances of some children in South London. Brixton.’

  ‘I think she’s just had the file sent through. Hold on.’ There are a few moments of silence but I hear him hitting the keyboard. ‘I count five.’

  ‘Exactly. All in the past two years. Notice the dates.’

  There’s a small pause. ‘You thinking ritual?’

  ‘Could be.’ I look over my shoulder and watch Dante chatting to the waitress, pointing at the menu. ‘She’s also wanting me to work with a Spook. I’m with him now. We’re talking about the job.’

  ‘Absolutely not. Walk away.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I tell you to. They are dangerous, Kit. They toy with things they know very little about.’

  ‘Jamie told me my dad was a Spook. I don’t think he meant to. It just came out.’

  ‘That idiot.’ Uncle Andrew exhales heavily. ‘I’m sorry, Kit. There’s so much that you don’t know about your mum and dad. I promise you, come Christmas, we’ll sit down and have a proper long talk about it.’