Текст книги "The Shifting Price of Prey"
Автор книги: Сьюзан Маклеод
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Текущая страница: 31 (всего у книги 33 страниц)
Chapter Sixty-Three
Gold Cat padded over and dropped what she was carrying in front of me. It squirmed around then scrambled to its feet. Mr Lampy, the gnome, though how she’d managed to haul him round in her fading state was anyone’s guess.
‘Ms Taylor,’ the gnome spluttered, smoothing the ruffled lichen on his head. ‘I really must object to this animal’s treatment of me.’
Gold Cat coughed. My mind translated the cough as Hungry?
I frowned. ‘Hungry?’
‘Ms Taylor,’ the gnome objected. ‘You can’t—’
Gold Cat batted the gnome off his feet and coughed again. You. Hungry?
Oh, she’d brought me a present, like a cat bringing a mouse. Which was sort of . . . gross. ‘Um, no thanks.’
Mine.
I wrinkled my nose at her, not sure if she was kidding. ‘Are you sure? A juicy steak might be better. He doesn’t look very appetising.’
‘Ms Taylor—’
Gold Cat snarled in his face, baring huge sabre-tooth sharp canines, then when he started squealing like a stuck pig, shut him up with a large paw on his mouth.
Hurt kits.
Ah. She wasn’t joking, and she wasn’t hungry for food as much as revenge. ‘Rather you than me,’ I said, nudging the disgusting gnome with my toe. ‘But if you want him, have him.’ I let Ascalon free. ‘Do you need him skewered first?’
The gnome gave a muffled squeak.
No.
Fair enough. Though really even eaten alive was way too good a fate for him, but . . . I grinned at her. Bon appétit.
Police troll here.
Hugh was here? Heart in my mouth, I rushed to the tent entrance. Sure enough the place was swarming with trolls and witches wearing the Met’s Magic and Murder Squads’ hi-vis yellow waistcoats. The cavalry had arrived.
My knees almost buckled with relief.
And right in the centre of the yellow-waistcoated mass was the solid, ruddy-coloured bulk of a black-haired troll in a pristine white shirt and black trousers, organising the rescue. (Acting) Detective Inspector Hugh Munro. Hugh would take care of everyone. I trusted him with my life. More, I trusted him with the lives of those I loved. I shouted, jumping up and down, waving my arms to catch his attention, then when he saw me I gave him a double thumbs-up to say I was okay, and held my hands up, fingers splayed. ‘Ten mins,’ I mouthed.
As he nodded, Gold Cat padded past me carrying the protesting gnome.
I grabbed her by her scruff. ‘Don’t forget our deal. I save both kits, you tell me how to undo the mating with Finn.’
Her lip curled, copper-coloured whiskers stiffening. Take stronger mate. Break mate-bond with satyr.
I rocked back on my heels, stunned. I had to mate with someone stronger to stop being mated to Finn? That wasn’t exactly a winning solution for me. Damn it. I’d imagined an invocation to the gods, or some sort of spell or ritual—
‘How do I take a stronger mate?’
Circle. Share flesh. His seed in you.Gold Cat’s tone suggested I was stupid not to know that. She tugged out of my hold and padded away to disappear into the darkness beneath the stage with the struggling gnome. I stared after her, thoughtful.
If all I needed was a bit of mutual cannibalism (ugh) and sex with someone more powerful than Finn, well, that probably gave me the option of a good ten per cent of London’s fae as a starter. Not that I had any intention of going down the ‘another mate’ route. But at least the answer wasn’t one of those Herculean tasks. In fact, if I ignored the whole ick factor, it actually seemed way too easy an out.
Something to investigate later, once everyone was safe. And Malik had his soul back.
I rolled my shoulders and turned back to where he lay on the stone circle.
Dropping to my knees, I placed my palm on his chest. Despite his heart not beating, and his skin hard and cold like stone, not living flesh, he didn’t seem like a vamp who’d been drained dry, but more as if he were in his daylight sleep. But the tent was painted in his blood. So never mind what he looked like, or the stingy couple of mouthfuls Bastien had dripped into him, which even with his Autarch’s power would no more quench a vamp’s thirst than two drops of rain in a drought, it was always possible Malik would wake to full bloodlust. Not a particularly reassuring thought, but I wanted him to have his soul back.
Though really, it wasn’t like I didn’t have plenty of blood to spare. Thanks to my time in Between, I hadn’t donated for two nights. Nor had I sated my body’s need for vamp venom with blood-fruit. With my sidhe metabolism, that was like a week to a human and the 3V addiction rioting in my cells was near enough at its ideal. My venom levels not so low for the craving to be vital, and my blood levels high enough that losing two or three pints wasn’t going to do anything more than treat both of us to a good time.
Anticipation speeding my pulse, I positioned Janan’s silver point over his heart—
Malik’s eyes flew open, power flamed hot in his pupils, and his hand clamped round my wrist. ‘No.’
Malik’s order snapped around my mind like a net. I resisted automatically. The net tightened, then broke and shredded to nothing. I jolted in surprise and the blade’s point pierced his flesh.
He groaned as if in agony, then too fast for me to counter, I was on my back, arms pinned above my head, his legs straddling my thighs, his body atop mine, all four of his fangs fully out, his eyes black and opaque with no hint of recognition in them.
My childhood training kicked in and I forced myself to lie still, concentrating on slowing my thudding heart; struggling with a vamp gets them too excited, makes them more likely to rip your throat out by mistake.
After a long perilous moment, he gave a slow blink. ‘Genevieve?’
I frowned at the question in his voice. If he was lucid enough to ask, he shouldn’t need to. ‘Yes.’
His nostrils flared and the reason clicked in my mind. Damn vamp supersenses. As Mad Max and Bastien had both oh, so helpfullypointed out, I smelled of more than just me. And damn Bastien. I had a sudden inkling the sadistic prick had deliberately given Malik just enough blood to get him up and reacting instead of thinking. Malik either sensed I wasn’t totally me, thanks to Gold Cat’s recent residence, or Finn’s scent on me had triggered his territorial instincts. Neither of which was good.
‘It’s okay,’ I said, keeping my voice calm, despite the anxious knot in my gut. ‘I’m not possessed or anything.’ I released my bracelet, hearing the quiet chink of charms. ‘See, I’m still wearing the cross.’
He gave another slow blink, nostrils flaring again. ‘The scent of fae and blackberries clings to you.’ A mix of accusation and anger lit fire in his pupils.
‘I can explain,’ I said quickly, not that I particularly wanted to right now, nor was I sure an explanation would work . . . hungry/territorial vamps aren’t too big on listening. I held my breath, flinching as a sudden gust of wind buffeted the tent, flapping the entrance wide for a moment then, as it ruffled my hair and cooled the sweat prickling my skin, Malik visibly reached for control. His needle-sharp venom fangs retracted, the tension in his muscles relaxed and the flames in his pupils flickered out, leaving behind a sea of anguish and concern.
‘Explain?’ A concerned line furrowed his brows. ‘Are you hurt, Genevieve?’
I frowned. ‘No. I’m fine.’
The furrow deepened. ‘Have you been forced against your wishes?’
‘What? No, of course not.’ Surely he knew Finn would never do that.
Desolation flickered in his eyes, spearing an odd grief through my heart. ‘You were willing, then,’ he murmured, his face blanking to his usual enigmatic mask. He glanced at where he pinned my wrists and his grip loosened as he suddenly seemed to realise he’d been holding me captive. ‘My apologies.’ His tone was as remote as if we were strangers. And then vamp-quick he was gone, leaving me scowling in disbelief up at the peaked roof of the tent.
Did he think I’d had sex with Finn deliberately? After what had happened between us on the island? Was this some sort of jealous snit? Or was his blood hunger screwing with his mind? The only one way to find out, as Hugh would tell me, was to ask.
I scrambled up, ready to demand what he was playing at, only to find him staring at the Empress.
My heart went out to him. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, and I was. I didn’t know her, and didn’t particularly want to. But even if he hadn’t seen her for centuries, and even if Bastien’s story about her hitching up with the Emperor was true, Malik must have cared for her at some point. Losing someone hurts.
After another long moment, he raised his gaze to mine; beneath his carefully blank look, he seemed relieved, not sad or angry. ‘The Emperor is dead.’
‘Yes,’ I said, even though it was a statement, not a question. Obviously he was aware that his wife, though ex-wife was probably more appropriate, only got to live as long as she did thanks to her blood-bond with the Emperor. If she’d expected a new blood-bond with a vamp as reward for her part in the plotting, then she’d pretty much lost that gamble.
He scanned around the tent as if searching, spied Janan and scooped the knife up, then attacked a pile of clothes in one corner. As I watched, feeling oddly redundant, he efficiently turned out pockets and patted the clothes down, then pulled on jeans and a shirt, both black. They fit, so had to be his. He slipped Janan into the back of the jeans in a practised move, then strode back to contemplate the Empress again and demanded, ‘Where are the Emperor’s ashes?’
Of course, he’d know the Emperor would go up in flames once he was dead. As Bastien had gleefully informed me, the whole ‘fool-the-Emperor-into-thinking-he-was-getting-Malik’s-immortality-sting’ had been Malik’s plan.
I frowned, not happy he was virtually ignoring me. ‘A wind blew them into the ether.’
‘All of them?’ he queried, still not looking at me.
‘No. His head sort of shrank and Bastien ate it before the ashes dissipated.’
Malik’s shoulders slumped as if in defeat.
‘I take it that’s bad?’ I asked, more for something to get him talking. Because no way in hell was it good.
‘It was not meant to happen this way,’ Malik murmured, almost to himself. ‘I was to be the one to wield Janan, not you. No one but I knew that you could also use the Bonder of Souls.’
Yeah, not even me.‘So how did Bastien find out? Because I take it he was the one who decided to add me in as an extra to your plan?’
Malik gave a sharp shake of his head. ‘I do not know how he discovered it. It was only after your mention of Janan at the lake that I realised something was amiss. After our time together—’
‘When you decided to send me home without consulting me,’ I interrupted flatly.
‘I hoped to keep you safe, Genevieve,’ he said, voice toneless.
I settled for a loud huff – he knew my thoughts about that – and said, ‘So, what happened after you sent me home?’
‘I learned Bastien had deviated from the plan we had agreed.’ A puzzled frown drew his mouth down. ‘He has not done that in centuries.’
Right. Well, my bet was that a certain leannán sidhe had a hand in inspiring Bastien’s deviation, but I didn’t say it. I also didn’t say that maybe if Malik hadn’t kept me out of the loop, I might have had a chance to destroy the Emperor’s head along with the rest of him. As it was, the psycho had taken me by surprise. And he’d chomped the Emperor now, so recriminations were sort of meaningless. But there was one thing I needed Malik to tell me.
‘Bastien says now he’s the Emperor he can put two and two together and tell me how to release the fae’s trapped fertility.’ Or in other words: did you know that the sadistic prick knew? And if so, why the hell didn’t you tell me?
‘My apologies, Genevieve,’ he said, still staring at the side of tent. ‘Bastien gave me his word not to harm, or even speak to you in person so long as I did not divulge to another that he knew of the original spell to trap the fae’s fertility. Since you recovered the pendant I have been negotiating with Bastien for the information you and the fae require.’
So Bastien had him over a barrel because of me.Damn exasperating, over-protective vamp. ‘Thanks, but now I know I can do my own negotiating. And I plan to as soon as I’ve double-checked everyone is safe.’
‘Speaking to Bastien will put you in danger—’
‘Malik.’ I threw my hands up. ‘I’ve told you, you can’t protect me from everything. And I don’t want you to. You need to tell me what’s going on, let me make my own decisions about what to do, or not do, and then at least if I end up in danger, I’ll know how and why I got there. And I’m not stupid; if I need help, you can bet I’ll ask for it.’ Unlike you, you stubborn idiot, I added silently, balling my hands in frustration. ‘Same way I told you to ask me if you needed help. And okay if it was just your business and you didn’t want my help, fair enough. But it wasn’t. This was my business too. Hell, maybe if I’d been part of the plan from the beginning, or got to talk to Bastien, then he and the spirit of the tarot cards wouldn’t have got together, I might have got decent warnings from her and prevented Katie and Freya ending up here in the Forum.’ All right so maybe I wasn’t above getting on the recrimination bandwagon.
Malik’s jaw went rigid, bone jutting sharp against his pale skin. ‘I did not intend for any innocents to be put at risk.’
‘Of course you didn’t,’ I agreed with a sigh, despite the fact he stillwasn’t looking at me. ‘It’s not your style. I’m just saying you shouldn’t keep me in the dark, and you don’t have to do everything alone.’
He smoothed a hand over his shaved head, brushing off the dried blood from the smudged glyphs there. He stared down at the rust-coloured flakes sticking to his palm as if they were able to predict his future then clenched his fist. ‘My apologies, Genevieve, you are right. If you would allow me, I would assist you in your negotiations with Bastien. In order to expedite matters, I would request some of the power your blood holds. I would not ask, were it not of importance to you.’
Chapter Sixty-Four
He wanted to assist me, did he? Well, no way was I going to refuse an offer like that, but first he could damn well stop acting like talking to me was akin to sucking garlic. ‘On one condition,’ I said flatly.
‘Which is?’
‘You listen to my explanation about what happened with Finn.’
He turned, fixing his gaze somewhere near my left ear. ‘I do not require you to explain. It is your choice alone who you decide to bed. You have said you were willing—’
‘No,’ I said, gritting my teeth at his oh so politetone. ‘ Yousaid I was willing. Itold you Finn didn’t force me. There’s a whole lot of story in between that.’
‘I do not need to be told a story, Genevieve.’ His eyes met mine for a moment, his black and pitiless. ‘In truth, I would prefer not to listen to one.’
‘Listen, buddy.’ I thumped him in the chest. ‘Things happened between Finn and me. Things which were not entirely of either our choice. So stop assuming you know what’s going on.’
He slowly met my eyes again, anger flickering. ‘You are saying I am an ass?’
‘Yep. But hey’ – I grinned, though it was more a baring of teeth – ‘I won’t hold it against you; we all assume things at times.’ Like I had. Good thing he hadn’t seen the blackmail threat I’d sent him. Yet. I suppressed a shudder. ‘I’ve just had more time to think my assumptions through.’
He was silent for a long moment then raised an elegant, not quite mocking brow. ‘Then I will, of course, listen, Genevieve.’
‘Great,’ I said drily. ‘Only it’s a long story, so maybe we should leave it until later? Say, when you’re less volatile?’
Tension sang through his body, then he inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘It might be wise, yes.’
‘Though there was one thing’ – I pursed my lips, waved at the Empress and took the plunge – ‘was she your wife?’
An odd, startled look crossed his face, followed by a longer, more pensive one. ‘You believed Shpresa was my wife?’
Did that mean she wasn’t? Hope lit in me. I tamped it down, keeping my voice dust dry. ‘I believe I might have made that assumption at certain points during the last day or so, yes.’
‘I see.’
The two small words were bland, giving nothing away, but underneath I sensed he was pleased at the ‘assumption’ I’d jumped to, and was now . . . stretching the answer out. . . I crossed my arms and gave him a narrowed look. ‘Well?’
The last of the tension between us dissipated as his mouth softened into a barely there smile. ‘I have never had a wife, Genevieve.’ He cast a look at the Empress, his smile fading. ‘Shpresa was my mother.’
His mother? I reached out, touched his arm. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you,’ he said softly. ‘But she was aware this would happen. It was her choice.’
Which didn’t make it any less sad for him. Though if Shpresa was his mother . . . ‘So,’ I said tentatively, ‘Bastien’s your brother?’
He nodded. ‘Half-bother, yes. His father was Suleiman.’
Half-brother? Still not wonderful, but way better than son. And the Empress on the tarot card telling me to save her children made even more sense now. She wasn’t just talking about Bastien and his vamps, but Malik too. ‘Ah. Right. So who was your father?’
‘As with your story, that is one for another time.’ His enigmatic mask reappeared as if a switch had been flipped. Looked like I’d hit a sore point. Still we’d have plenty of time for talking about all sorts of things, later. ‘Now, Genevieve, I would drink, please. If you are agreeable?’
I glanced at the dead Empress, uncomfortable. ‘Here?’
‘No. Not here.’ He held his hand out.
I placed my hand in his and he led me to the far side of the tent. The heavy material sliced open with a touch from Janan. We stepped outside into a small shadowed area enclosed by high, dense bushes, the only light from the stars studding the night sky above us.
We stood, my hand in his as anticipation stretched a taut line between us. ‘Do you wish me to drink from the wrist?’ His question was neutral, but a dark intensity glittered in the black depths of his eyes.
‘Hmm,’ I murmured. ‘It seems practical, unless you have a better idea.’ I let a smile ghost my lips.
‘I believe I may.’ He inclined his head, the glitter taking on a heart-fluttering promise as his gaze turned dark with need and possession. Pulling me into his embrace as if leading me into a dance, he moulded my back against the firm planes of his chest. ‘Genevieve.’ His murmur grazed my hair, causing my heart to race. His tongue traced the sensitive whorl of my ear and I gave a small, surprised yelp as he nipped the tender lobe, then sucked it hard into his mouth, making my knees weak. Dark spice and honeysuckle entwined in the air; our scents mingling. My breathing quickened as lust coiled inside me, and a blood-flush electrified my body in readiness for his bite. I let my head fall back to his shoulder, offering him my throat, the pulse there jumping beneath my skin as desperate need and joyous desire collided inside me. His hold about me strengthened and I felt the thick hard length of him press against me, ready and eager.
He cupped my cheek, his thumb gently circling the vulnerable spot beneath my jaw. ‘How long, Genevieve?’ His murmured question glided over my collarbone like a summer breeze.
‘Two nights.’ My own whisper was breathless. Two nights since I’d satisfied my body’s craving for vamp venom.
A low growl vibrated through him as his lips marked a heated trail from my ear to my pulse. His mouth closed over it, the teasing press of fangs drawing a whimper of need from me. For an achingly long, heart-thudding moment he held me, his arms wrapped about me, his mouth at my throat, only the thin barrier of my skin separating us. Then he pierced my flesh.
Pleasure, sharp and exquisite, sliced through me as his venom shot into my veins. But even as my body reacted in fierce delight to the demanding draw of his mouth, the feeling morphed, twisting into excruciating, torturous agony. I screamed, throwing myself away from him, only to have my legs give way as I collapsed on the grass, shaking with pain-filled aftershocks.
I slapped a hand over my bleeding neck and gaped up at him. ‘What the—?’ My croaked demand stuttered. He was staring with enough horror that an errant part of me wondered if I’d suddenly grown three heads, half-a-dozen assorted limbs and shifted into some sort of monster.
‘What the hell was that?’ I croaked again.
He crouched before me, with none of his usual elegance, his body radiating panic, whispered, ‘You bear my soul, Genevieve.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, shivering as I realised it wasn’t only Malik who was panicked; his soul was too. The ball of silvery light felt like it had stuck claws into my body; the source of all the pain. ‘How else was I going to give it back to you?’
He pulled Janan from behind him. ‘You will allow me to transfer it to this.’
I frowned, then remembered him telling me Malak al-Maut, whose knife Janan was, had used the knife to carry those souls he’d collected. ‘Sure—’
He stabbed me in the chest, the stench of burning flesh hit me and Malik gave an agonised yell, his hand spasaming open.
I stared in shock at the blade buried to the hilt between my breasts, its amber dragon’s tear flashing like a warning beacon, instinctively thinking it should hurt, and that there should be blood. Only, of course, it was a soul-bonding knife; there was no blood, and if there was any pain the claws piercing my body eclipsed it. I swallowed then looked at him. ‘Give a girl some notice next time . . .’ I trailed off. Pink-tinged sweat beaded his forehead, his stare fixed on the knife in dismayed disbelief. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘It refused!’
‘What did?’
‘My soul.’ He grabbed my wrist, yanking me to my feet. ‘Come. We must find Bastien. You must bond my soul back to him.’
I bit back a scream as the claws gripped harder at Bastien’s name. No way did Malik’s soul like that idea. ‘Why can’t you have it back?’ I said, then yelped as the claws shrank back and tried to burrow inside my heart; his soul obviously wasn’t on board with that suggestion either.
A shudder rippled through Malik. ‘It does not like the revenant.’
I opened my mouth. Then shut it again. We were heading back into weird possession/alter-ID territory again and I didn’t feel up to debating it, not with his soul chiming sharply in on the discussion too.
‘Bastien said he didn’t want your soul back,’ I told him.
‘He will.’ Resolve crossed Malik’s face. ‘You should not have bonded my soul to yours, Genevieve.’
‘I didn’t bond them,’ I said. ‘I’m an Anima Devoro, remember?’
Shock flashed in his eyes. ‘You atemy soul.’
‘No, of course not. I absorbedit. It was happy about it so it’s not hurt. That only happens when the soul or spirit objects.’
He released me, horror filling his eyes. ‘How many souls have you eaten, Genevieve?’
‘Stop looking like that,’ I said, annoyed. ‘It was only some of the half-formed in Betweenand I spat the pieces back out again. They’ll stick themselves back together soon enough; maybe even manage better shapes next time. Oh, and the two that didn’t fight’ – Viviane and Gold Cat – ‘are fine. Same as your soul’ – I placed a hand over my heart – ‘it was here, quiet as a mouse, until you bit me, so why not leave it—’
He shook his head, eyes blazing. ‘My soul is damaged, Genevieve. It will cause you harm. You have seen how Bastien is.’
I blinked. ‘Bastien is a crazy psycho because he had your soul?’
‘Yes.’
I frowned, recalling Malik’s harem memory and the child Bastien ripping his sister’s doll apart. He’d seemed pretty much fully-fledged as a psychopath back then. ‘Did Bastien have your soul as a child?’
Malik swiped an anxious hand over his head. ‘No, he did not. He took it some years after I was cursed with the revenant. Come, we must find him.’ He took my wrist again.
‘Wait!’ I pulled out of his hold. ‘I can’t wander around with a knife-hilt sticking out of my chest. People will freak out.’ I carefully wrapped my hand around the flashing dragon’s tear, hesitated, then, under Malik’s worried gaze, yanked it out. As far as I could tell, my own soul stayed in place, seeing as I didn’t drop down dead or float off with the breeze, as did Malik’s; its claws still had their death-grip on my heart.
I tucked Janan safely in the back of my jeans. ‘Right,’ I said, pleased my voice only shook slightly. ‘Let’s go and find Bastien, but remember, the priority here is to get the info about the fae’s trapped fertility out of him. We can worry about your soul later, okay?’
‘I do not think—’ He stopped, stared up at the heavens as if entreating some god, then just as I was about to push the point, he took a breath he didn’t need. ‘We will do that, Genevieve.’
‘Right.’ I rubbed my breastbone as the pain there vanished. Malik’s soul had sheathed its claws the second he’d agreed and was now back to being a soft ball of silvery light. Damn. It was determined to become a permanent resident. Later.
‘So,’ I said, ‘did you get enough of my blood for whatever it was you were planning to do?’ Not that I thought either of us were up to him trying to bite me again.
‘It is possible, but we shall see.’ His mouth twisted and he offered his hand, wary. I took it just as cautiously, braced for the claws. Nothing. We both sighed in relief.
He held the slashed tent open and we stepped back in together.
Waiting for us was Bastien.
