Текст книги "The Sweet Scent of Blood"
Автор книги: Сьюзан Маклеод
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 24 страниц)
Chapter Two
It was a stubborn, sticky spell, though wrapped around the fridge handle it looked as innocent as a tuft of candyfloss. Except candyfloss doesn’t pulse virulent green—spun sugar is muchmore wholesome. I grasped a flimsy strand between my thumb and forefinger and gently pulled. The stench of rotten eggs hit the back of my throat, making me gag. I dropped the magic, watching it curl and twist back into the spell.
‘Bad, bad brownie,’ I muttered. I tried again, upping my concentration. This time the magic stretched and separated and I let it drift back into the ether.
The job at the swish Kensington bistro was supposed to be an easy one, but thanks to Alan Hinkley’s request for help, my mind kept asking questions I didn’t have the answers for—like what the fuck was Siobhan’s brother up to? And was the requestreally from him? Or had Bobby, aka Roberto, aka Mr October, discovered a secret he shouldn’t and decided to use the knowledge for himself? I looked towards my phone, but it wasn’t coming up with any answers either. I’d left it near the front door, a safe distance away from the magic, and despite all the messages I’d sent it was disappointingly silent. So failing any sort of reprieve, I was meeting Alan later, at the morgue.
I turned back to the restaurant and made my way through the tables. The air-conditioning hummed like an anxious bee, and gave the place a chilled, cave-like feel. I suppressed a shiver. Low level light makes the spells easier to see, and Finn, my co-worker—and future boss, if the rumours were true—had shut the blinds before I’d arrived. I’d have preferred the sunshine.
Gripping the edge of a marble table, I crouched, checking for any tell-tell glows along the floor. Nothing. The black and white tiles were clear. No more magic-induced slips or spell-trapped mice running backwards in frantic circles.
A quick scan of the ornate plastered ceiling revealed no magic lurking in the shadows. I sighed, relieved. The glass-fronted counter running the length of one wall was empty too, no elaborate cream-filled cakes, no hip-expanding pastries, and no lingering nasty leftovers. Hexed or otherwise.
The door to the kitchen swung open, breaking my concentration again, and Finn sauntered through. ‘Hell’s thorns, that kitchen’s a mess.’ He stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. ‘Manager reckons it’s a grouchy customer dropping a spell instead of a tip, at least that’s what the brownie’s told him.’ He shook his head. ‘And he believes her.’
I ignored the stupid little leap of pleasure inside me at the sight of him– so not going there, not when there’s no point—and said, ‘Why not? The restaurant’s a family business; the brownie’s probably been with them for decades... although it’s odd she’d cause this much trouble.’ I tapped my fingers against the table. ‘Unless it’s the manager who’s got herall miffed and just doesn’t want to admit it.’
Finn shrugged, then lifted his arms above his head and stretched gracefully.
Every time I see Finn, I try hard notto imagine him with his trousers off. I blame his horns, the office gossip, and my rebellious libido. Finn is a lesser fae, a satyr; his great-greatwhatevers were worshipped by the Greeks as one of their gods, Pan, the half-goat, half-man one. Finn’s butt looks normal when he’s dressed, with not even a hint of a tail or furry thighs, and there’s never been a single confirmed rumour to the contrary in all of the three months he’d been with Spellcrackers. Even so, my mind just keeps on—
‘How’re you doing in here, Gen?’ He rubbed one of his horns. They’re the colour of dried bracken, sharp and stand a good inch above his wavy blond hair. Add in his poster-boy good looks and Finn should’ve been an ad-man’s wet dream—only the horns mean he doesn’t look human enough to sell products to the masses. He had to be wearing a glamour-spell to alter his appearance, but so far I hadn’t managed to seepast it.
‘ Crackedeverything except the coffee machine,’ I said.
‘I could do with a hand in the kitchen when you’ve finished,’ he said with a suggestive grin, ‘if you’re willing?’
In answer I gave him the look I’d been giving him for the last few weeks, ever since he’d started hitting on me—a half-amused, half-tolerant smile that told him no way did I take his flirting seriously—and then turned my back on him smothering a sigh.
Lifting the counter-top, I focusedon the machine. The industrial-sized contraption glowed bright enough to cast a sickly orange glare up the wall. The levers were the worst. Of course, it would take only a second to crackit rather than tease it apart, but true spellcracking involved blasting the magic—and that also blasted apart whatever the magic was attached to. Collateral damage isn’t an option—customers tend to object—so instead I pinched the spell and started to unravel it. Hot steam jetted over my hands and along my arms. Shit. Suppressing a whimper, I shook my hands to get rid of the sensation. The pain was real but the steam wasn’t, so there’d be no burns, just the nasty release of power.
‘Ouch. That’s gotta hurt.’ Finn’s tone was sympathetic. ‘But that’s what happens when you take it too fast.’
I snorted. ‘Like I don’t know that.’
He grinned. ‘’Course you do, but hey, this is one seriously cranky brownie. Glad it’s not me she’s pissed off with.’
Gingerly, I poked at the spell. ‘Sounds like you’re talking from experience.’
‘Oh yeah, a whole month’s worth.’ He winced at the memory. ‘Whenever I opened a honey jar, a bee flew out and stung me. Everything I ate tasted burnt, and she hid every single one of my left socks.’
‘There’s no such thing as a left sock,’ I pointed out, delicately unpicking more of the spell. ‘They’re all the same.’
He laughed. ‘’Course there is! It’s obvious, you always put your right sock on first, so the missing one’s got to be the left one.’
‘Ha ha.’ The magic shredded into tiny filaments under my fingers and finally dissipated. ‘So, were you just your usual self or did you do something in particular to annoy her?’
His shoulders lifted in a careless shrug. ‘Can’t remember now; think it was probably her witch more than the brownie I actually upset.’
Of course, there had to be a witch involved, didn’t there?The witches at Spellcrackers had descended on Finn like excited kids playing pass-the-parcel, each of them grabbing to be the next one to unwrap the present when the music stopped. And Finn seemed to be enjoying the party, amazingly keeping everyone happy with his equal-opportunity flirting. I’d been invited to play, but it wasn’t an invitation I felt able to accept.
Not that I wasn’t attracted. I was, and then some. And there was the whole fae thing going on, which meant the magic was always trying to nudge us together, just to add to the complications. No, my problem was that Finn was almost too appealing. More and more I just wanted to sink my teeth into him, and that was sonot a good idea. So I swallowed down the disappointment instead and tried hard to keep him at a distance.
He gently touched my hand where the spell had phantom-burnt me. ‘Want to talk about what’s bothering you?’
I looked up, surprised at the concern in his eyes. ‘It’s nothing. ’
‘Yeah? You’re usually much more careful with the magic.’
He was right. I was. ‘Bad morning,’ I said, ‘y’know—pixies, and then I managed to crack the crystal on my phone.’
‘Ah.’ He gave me a thoughtful look for a moment and then smiled. ‘Problem solved then. I just found a new crystal supplier on eBay. The initial quality’s good and the prices are reasonable. I’ll tell Toni to sort you one out as a trial.’
A pretty gift-horse yawned in front of me, but I ignored it in favour of having my distraction work. ‘That’s great,’ I said, ‘thanks.’
Finn dropped a casual arm round my shoulders. ‘Heard the latest gossip? Stella left early, supposedly for the Council meeting, but Toni thinks she’s got a fancy man.’ His breath warmed my hair. ‘Apparently he’s been on the phone three times this morning and wouldn’t give his name, just said Stella’d know who he was.’ The faint scent of blackberries curled around me. ‘But Toni says she’s sure she recognises his voice.’
I slid out from under his arm before I let myself get too comfortable. If Stella was at a Witches’ Council meeting, that explained why she was ignoring my messages, and it didn’t take much for me to guess who Toni, our office manager, had been talking about.
Finn lent against the counter and winked at me. ‘She’s certain it’s that journalist chap who interviewed Stella. Tall, dark, good-looking. Don’t suppose you saw him, did you?’
I gave him a teasing look. ‘Worried about competition in your little witch harem, are you?’
He chuckled. ‘Hell’s thorns, Gen, he’s human. Where’s the competition?’ His face turned sly. ‘Just wondering whether Tall, Dark and Handsome is your type as well as Stella’s.’
‘Don’t wander, it doesn’t lead anywhere.’
‘Don’t worry, I know to stay on the path.’ He reached for my hand and traced a finger across my palm. ‘C’mon, Gen, can’t blame me for being curious. I’m a fertility fae.’ His thumb stroked gently over my wrist, causing my pulse to throb. ‘And you’re sidhe fae, your heart beats for passion. Imagine what music we could make: the very birds and bees would sing along with joy.’ He lowered his voice. ‘It would be a grand opera, rich enough to rival Mozart.’
Laughing, I twisted my hand free, stuck two fingers in my mouth and accked. ‘Pleeeease! Don’t tell me that works? That is soooo bad!’
He grinned, teeth white and even against his tan. ‘What do you think?’
‘No, that’s just too awful to contemplate.’ I shook my head. ‘All those witch groupies you’ve got hanging around, they actually fell for that?’
He spread his arms wide. ‘What can I say, I’m a sex god.’
‘Ha!’ I poked him in the chest. ‘In your dreams.’
His face turned serious. ‘Just one question, though?’
I narrowed my eyes. ‘What?’
He leaned in close and murmured against my cheek, ‘You ever seized the magic at midnight and danced across the stars?’
My breath caught. Shit. He was too close. Anticipation spiralled deep inside me. I could almost taste the ripe blackberry juice bursting on my tongue.
Finn moved back, far enough to study my face. His moss-green eyes filled with male satisfaction. ‘One night, Gen.’
I bit down hard until the copper tang of blood filled my mouth and I swallowed. ‘Don’t tempt me, Finn.’
‘Always.’ He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
I forced myself to move away and laughed, needing to end the serious mood. ‘You know what they say about wishes?’
‘Wait.’ He held up a hand, then gave me a wicked grin. ‘Oh yeah, it’s too late once the wish comes true.’
I nodded. ‘Remember that.’
‘I wasn’t making a wish, Gen.’ He crooked a finger at me. ‘That was a promise.’ He twirled the finger like he was reeling me in. ‘Wishes have to be granted.’ I felt a sharp pull deep in my centre as though hooked on the thorny stems of bramble. ‘Promises on the other hand’—he touched his lips to his palm, eyes never leaving mine—‘when given’—he blew me the kiss—‘are a sure thing.’
Fuck.‘Don’t bet on it.’
Finn smiled but his eyes were sombre. ‘Too late.’
A popping noise followed by an irritated cough sounded from behind my head.
‘Mebbe when thee and himself have finished blathering, an ole biddy could get a wee word in?’
The brownie sat like a well-dressed doll on top of the coffee machine, her leather ankle boots stuck straight out at right angles from beneath the floral smock she wore. Huge brown eyes glared down at us out of a sandstone-coloured face and little tufts of brown hair sprouted angrily over her scalp.
The sensible part of me was glad of the interruption.
‘I think she wants to talk to you,’ Finn muttered. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen.’ Tipping his head at the brownie he retreated faster than a troll who’s cornered a cat.
The brownie’s round face screwed up into a disapproving scowl, her button nose almost disappearing into dried-peach-like wrinkles. ‘Himself had better keep his hands offa mawean, else he’ll lose more than the odd sock.’ She jumped down to stand on the counter: a bristling two-foot-high guard-nanny. ‘And thee better take care yerself, thee’s supposed to do the courting, not him.’
I got what she was saying, my mind automatically translating ‘wean’ into ‘child’ thanks to a year living in Scotland when I was nine. If her wean was pretty and female and no longer childlike, then Finn had already found her. And as for courting—dating—Finn really didn’t need any encouragement from me in that department.
My earlier suspicions clicked. I gave her an enquiring look. ‘This is all for my benefit, is it? You could have phoned, you know.’
She fisted her hands on her hips. ‘Don’t hold with those new-fangled mechanicals. Anyhows’—she smiled smugly—‘you’re here now.’
No arguing with that. ‘So, what’s the problem?’
Her smock billowed as she leapt to the floor and held out her hand. ‘Agatha Brown, Lady.’
I placed my palm in hers and an old familiar comfort swept over me, like snuggling under cosy covers on a cold winter’s night. I crouched next to her. ‘Do I know you?’
Her small rosebud mouth parted in a sigh. ‘A brownie’s touch goes to them that needs it and is ne’r forgotten.’ She shook her head. ‘Weren’t maself, though, would have bin one of ma sisters.’
She cupped my cheek in her small hand and as she did so, the memory returned. I was six. The latest nanny stood over me, her face flushed red, anger spewing from her like vomit.
We’d moved to an old country mansion and it had one of those stone food safes in the kitchen, a heavy wooden lid covering an ancient hole in the floor. Inside was cold and black. And when I stopped screaming, and started listening, it was full of odd scratching noises. I wanted someone to come for me, my father, or any of them, but it was daylight and they were all sleeping like the dead. Then a small hand crept into mine, offering comfort. I’ve never been afraid of the dark since.
Agatha’s large brown eyes were full of anger and compassion as she shook her head. She’d shared something of my memory. I stood quickly, breaking the connection.
The nanny had taken to leaving me in the hole nearly every day, but that small warm hand was always there. Of course, one day the nanny left me there past sunset and my father found me. We moved again that night. We were always leaving somewhere.
Later, I realised he must have killed the woman.
But then he always was a practical bastard when it came to keeping his secrets safe.
I smiled at Agatha, accepting the obligation along with the manipulation. ‘Want to tell me why I’m here?’
Her forehead creased into a worried frown. ‘It’s ma wean, she’s awfy poorly—’
The sound of breaking crockery interrupted her and she rushed away through the service doors into the kitchen. I followed her, and we found Finn and the manager staring down at a pile of shattered china plates.
Damn. Looked like Finn had tried crackinga spell.
‘Mr Andros, this is not what I had in mind when I hired your company.’ The manager prodded the pile with the shiny toe of his shoe. ‘I expected a quick professional clear-up of the mess. That is what your company guarantees.’ He made a point of looking at his watch. ‘I have customers in less than an hour.’
Finn threw a malevolent glance towards Agatha, who sniffed and headed for a half-open doorway at the back of the kitchen.
I left Finn to handle the apologies. Whatever the problem was, it wasn’t going to go away until Agatha got what she wanted.
The door led to a small staff area furnished with a table, a couple of battered chairs and a row of lockers. Agatha stood, hands clasped, chewing her lip next to a young woman sprawled over the table. ‘Ma wean, Holly.’
Holly wore the standard waitress uniform, white blouse and black skirt. She’d abandoned her shoes on the floor and with her head buried in her arms, all I could see was a mass of dark curls that tumbled over the table like tangled vines.
‘Go away, Aggie.’ The words were muffled by their passage through all that hair. ‘Nothing’s wrong. Jus’ leave me alone.’
‘Herself’s here, ma bonny.’
‘I don’t want to see anyone,’ Holly wailed.
Aggie tentatively stroked the girl’s shoulder. ‘Please, Holly,’ she entreated.
Holly jerked upright, her face blotchy from crying. ‘Get out,’ she snarled at Agatha, baring small green triangular teeth. ‘You always ruin everything!’
Agatha’s expression turned determined and she grabbed Holly’s wrist, holding it out for me to see. ‘She would’nae go to the clinic. Tuesday night it happened, an’ I’ve bin worrid stoopid, what with the news an’ all.’
Holly snatched her hand back, though not before I spotted the half-healed vampire bite, and burst into fresh tears.
Now I knew why Agatha had booby-trapped the restaurant with spells: this wasn’t a magical problem, but one I dealt with every week at the HOPE clinic. Getting Fanged was the current hot fashion for that all important coming-of-age celebration and as a result, we had a constant parade of youngsters dragged in by worried parents once they realised where, and with whom, their offspring had been out partying the night away.
I nodded at Agatha. ‘Why don’t you leave us to talk to each other?’
Agatha’s shoulders sagged with relief and she disappeared with another audible pop.
Holly glared at the vacant space. ‘Don’t you be listening either, Aggie,’ she shouted at the empty air.
Chapter Three
Isat across from Holly and waited while she wiped her tears. She was a faeling, part fae, part human. I couldn’t tell what type of fae blood she carried, but her ancestry was evident in her delicate, angular bone structure as well as her teeth.
She hiccoughed, then ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back from her face. As she did heart-shaped earrings flashed like blue stars against the black.
‘You might as well give in,’ I said. ‘She’s not going to stop until you do.’
Holly pouted as she draped her hair over one shoulder. She tucked a strand in the corner of her mouth and muttered, ‘She thinks I’m still ten or something.’
‘Uh-huh.’ I smiled, encouraging confidences.
‘Just because I want to go out with my friends, she gets all het up about it.’
‘It’s not your friends she’s worried about.’
Holly glanced at her wrist and shuddered.
‘Pretty earrings,’ I said.
Her hand half-lifted to her left ear and a wary look flickered across her face.
‘I’ve never been to the Blue Heart,’ I said. ‘Is it any good?’
‘S’okay.’ Only she didn’t sound too sure.
‘Just okay?’ I smiled again. ‘I thought it was supposed to be the cool place.’
‘It was pretty cool.’
‘But not all of it?’
Holly lifted her feet onto the chair and wrapped her arms around her legs. ‘Trace and Lorraine thought it was cool.’ She rested her chin on her knees, looked at me with disappointed green eyes and held out her wrist. ‘Only it hurt when he bit me. It’s not supposed to hurt, is it? It didn’t hurt Trace and Lor.’
A crash sounded from the kitchen and Holly flinched. Voices rose and fell like angry waves after the brief silence.
I took her hand in mine and rotated her wrist. Two neat holes an inch apart were just about healed over. ‘The vampire tricked their minds, made them think it felt nice. Not many of them can do that to you, because you’re faeling.’
She frowned. ‘He said it was because he wasn’t a very old vampire.’ She drew her wrist back and plucked at a thread hanging from her skirt. ‘He was nice, he stopped as soon as it hurt. Only’—a tear spilled down her cheek—‘I’ve been feeling tired and a bit dizzy, and having bad dreams.’
Other than the bad dreams, it sounded like post-bite anaemia, but just the neat fang marks on her wrist wouldn’t have caused that.
‘You need to show me the other bites, Holly.’
Surprise crossed her face and her chin trembled. Then she pushed aside her shirt collar, angling her head away, displaying two more fang marks puncturing the curve between her neck and her shoulder.
‘And that’s all, just two bites?’
‘Yes.’ But as she spoke, she glanced down and I knew she wasn’t telling me everything.
‘Holly, if you want me to tell Aggie everything’s okay, you need to show me all the bites.’ I bent and peered into her face. ‘I won’t tell her where they are, okay?’
The metallic bangs and crashes echoing around the kitchen sounded like a dwarf workshop had taken up residence. What was Finn trying to do? Wreck the place?
Holly squirmed, then unbuttoned her blouse.
The vampire had sunk his teeth into the swell of her breasts, just above the lace edge of her bra, and he hadn’t been nearly as neat or careful here. Two bites marked her left breast, the holes puckered, skin white and crinkly where he had fed for some time. He’d made a real mess of her right breast. Half-healed inch-long scabs and mottled bruises showed where his fangs had scored through her flesh ... almost as if the vamp had been ripped away from her.
I ignored the throb that leapt into life at the back of my own neck. Bastard sucker.All I said was, ‘Ouch, that must’ve hurt too.’
Holly looked down at herself. ‘Only a little. I felt sorta weird and fuzzy by then.’
At least the bites looked like sucker bites. The vamp had fed, but hadn’t tried infecting her. Of course, 3V—Vampire Venom and Virus Infection—isn’t the big bad any more; treatment’s been available for the past twenty-odd years. And there was that BBC ‘Bat on The Wall’ documentary a couple of years ago, with its backdoor propaganda that 3V could be the modern elixir of youth and health. The internet hyped the ‘benefits’ like a particularly virulent game of cyber whispers. Now 3V is actually considered desirable by some, so much so that the public don’t want to know that the majority of infected ‘human companions’—the current PC label for a vampire’s blood-slave or blood-pet, don’t live long and healthy lives as advertised, but end up as short-lived ‘disposables’ in some blood-pub in Sucker Town.
All they’re interested in is the Gift.
According to myth, the original Gift was the Gorgon’s blood, given by Athena to Asclepius, the Greek god of healing, to help him in his work. Then Asclepius started raising people from the dead, and Zeus took exception, as überGods do, and killed him with a thunderbolt. The sun god Apollo, Asclepius’s dad, wasn’t too happy either, and he set about rectifying his son’s mistakes by burning the undead to a crisp whenever he could find them. Even so, most feel that drinking blood, staying out of storms and doing without the suntan are easy enough sacrifices to make if it means they might hit the immortality jackpot in the game of vampire roulette.
But neither the government, nor the witches, nor—especially—the vampire hierarchy want the place overrun with baby blood-suckers, so the Gift is strictly controlled. It means the tourist clubs are safe enough: after all, when the punters are not just paying but queuing for the privilege of being the plat du jour, there’s no need to turn your victims into venom junkies to ensure your next meal. All it takes is some mental sleight of hand, or mesma, to convince the customers they’re getting what they want. After all, anything else would be bad for business.
Only Holly was a faeling, and fae blood, even diluted with human, is a sought-after commodity within the vampire world. I needed to be sure she wasn’t infected.
‘Holly, you’ve heard of 3V, haven’t you?’
She pulled out a leaflet hidden under a magazine on the table. ‘I checked the bites against the photos in the HOPE leaflet.’ She opened the leaflet and showed me the pictures. ‘See, two holes is okay, you only have to worry about infection if there’s four holes, two tiny extra ones in between. That’s what it looks like if they bite you with their retractable fangs as well.’ She briefly touched the bruises on her breast. ‘All of us, we’ve only got two fang marks. Trace got a magnifying glass out and we checked each other out to make sure,’ she finished in a disappointed tone.
‘That’s great, then,’ I said eyes wide to keep the bemused look from my face. ‘Nothing to worry about: the bites are healing and once you make up the blood loss, the dizziness should stop and you’ll feel better.’
She held out her wrist again with an anxious expression. ‘But what about this one?’
The kitchen produced a hissing noise that sounded like a steam-dragon running riot and Finn’s curse sounded distinctly frustrated.
I frowned at the neat bite. ‘It’s fine, better than the others. Should be gone in a couple of days.’
She leaned forward and whispered, ‘But hedid them, y’know, the vampire that’s been in all the papers. The one that—the one that killed his girlfriend.’
‘Roberto? You mean Mr October?’
She gave a tiny nod. ‘Aggie’s worried because they’ve arrested him. The papers say all it took was one bite, and she thinks—Am I going to die too?’ Her voice rose, shrill with panic.
I began mentally revising my offer to help the bastard. ‘Did he do all the bites?’
‘Oh no, I told you, Roberto was really nice. This French vamp, Louis, did the others.’ She touched her bruises again. ‘Roberto shouted at him and dragged him away. Trace said they both looked really mad.’ She tossed her hair back. ‘Roberto bought us all those fruit cocktails, the special ones they do, and made sure we got a taxi home.’ Her face fell. ‘Do you think I’m going to die like his girlfriend?’
‘Genny?’
I looked up as Finn appeared in the doorway. Holly squeaked, clutching her blouse to hold it together.
‘Sorry, ladies, I’ll wait outside.’ Finn held his hands up in apology and grinned, then sent me a questioning look. ‘I could do with some help out here, Gen, when you’re ready.’
‘Okay. I’ll be with you in a sec.’ I turned back to Holly and lowered my voice. ‘Listen, one bite from Roberto won’t kill you. You mustn’t believe everything the papers say. But keep away from the vampires.’ I leaned forward. ‘Vamps think our fae blood tastes nicer, sweeter, than plain human blood, and some of them won’t take no for an answer. I’d stick to going out with humans or fae if I were you. It’s less dangerous.’
Holly sighed. ‘He—Louis—said I tasted like cherries. He said he liked me best of all.’ She bit her lip. ‘Human boys don’t always—My teeth scare them, or if I like them, they end up ... y’know, Glamoured.’
I knew exactly how she felt. Rocks and hard places had nothing on dating humans if you were a fae or even a faeling with a touch of power.
‘Listen, Holly, the bites are fine. You’re not going to die. I’ll tell Aggie.’ I dug a card out of my bag. ‘And if you want to talk or anything, just give me a ring, okay?’
I left her chewing a curl of hair and went to find Finn.
He leant against the wall outside the staffroom, hands in his pockets and a disgruntled expression on his face. ‘I tried to talk Agatha into clearing up the mess, but she says she’s too low on juice to do anything.’
I grinned. ‘Feeling stressed, are we?’
‘She’s got her wretched spell-traps everywhere,’ he groaned, ‘and every time I try to crackone, something else breaks.’
‘Uh-huh,’ I said sweetly, ‘that’s what happens when you go too fast.’
‘Yeah, touché, Gen.’ He pushed away from the wall and slung an arm around my shoulder. ‘It’s gonna take ages to unravel all the spells. Mr Manager is as grumpy as a blingless goblin.’ His voice took on a cajoling tone. ‘Don’t suppose you could do something, could you?’
‘Maybe.’ I sighed, thinking about gift-horses bearing crystals. ‘But only if you stop using my shoulder as an arm-rest.’
‘Whatever my Lady’s heart desires.’ He gave me a quick hug, then opened his arms wide, a lazy grin twitching the corners of his mouth.
I rolled my eyes at him. Damn. I so knew I was going to regret this—give in once to him, even if it was over something as simple as work—and the next thing I’d find myself sitting in a painful heap at the bottom of the slippery slope.
And if I was going to clear up all the spells in one go, I needed to find them. There were only a couple of lights on in the kitchen but I turned them off so that the only illumination came from the red electronic numbers that blinked on some of the equipment. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and focused.
Shit.There was more magic than I thought. Way, waaay more.
Opening my eyes confirmed it. The room popped and seethed with pulsing fluorescence like a volcanic swamp covered in fireflies. My heart leapt, apprehension warring with anticipation. No wonder Finn had been having so much trouble crackingthe stuff. Agatha must have gathered every ounce of her anger, frustration and fear for this many spells. I glanced over at where she stood with Holly in the staffroom doorway, dim misted light wrapping itself around them from the room beyond. She clasped Holly’s hand tightly, her huge brown eyes gleaming with relief and gratitude as she inclined her head in a small bow. For an instant, something odd nagged at me, then the kitchen claimed my full attention.
I cupped my palms in front of me and calledthe magic.
Power filled my hands, rushing into me. Wind lifted my hair, heat suffused my body, millions of tiny sharp needles stung my skin. The magic gripped me, flung my arms wide, arched my spine, lifted my feet from the ground. I hung suspended, head thrown back, mouth gasping air into my protesting lungs. Black dots danced before my eyes. Pleasure and pain streamed through me in one long scream as the last drop of magic slammed me to the floor.
I wrapped my arms around my head and curled into a tight ball. Less than a minute passed while the magic bubbled with exhilaration though my blood, chasing away the residual aches and soreness, leaving my heart pounding. A burst of golden light spread out from my skin, shimmering soft and dew-like before dissipating in the air.
Who knew brownie magic could feel so good?
‘I heard you could do that.’ Finn spoke close to my ear, his voice tinged with satisfaction. ‘Absorb the magic, instead of crackingit or just pulling it apart.’
I rolled limply onto my back, the most movement I could manage with the power still settling inside me, and found him kneeling next to me. I gazed up at him. Tiny emerald flecks flared deep in the moss-green of his eyes. Speculation flickered across his features. And there was something else, some other emotion ... respect maybe, or awe?
