Текст книги "The Shifting Price of Prey"
Автор книги: Сьюзан Маклеод
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Текущая страница: 32 (всего у книги 33 страниц)
Chapter Sixty-Five
Bastien flashed fangs. ‘Well, well, my loyal shadow and my lovely sidhe princess.’
Malik stepped smoothly between me and Bastien. ‘Our agreement was that you should cause Genevieve no harm, Emir.’ His voice was soft with threat. ‘You will take my soul back now; else I will consider it broken.’
‘You know I have not broken any agreements, Abd al-Malik. The sidhe took your soul of her own volition.’
‘Genevieve would not have been in a position to do so, had you not altered the plan. This is—’
Malik fell silent as Bastien held up one finger then treated me to a gleeful smile. Dread crawled down my spine as I leaned forward to look at Malik. He was frozen, his beautiful face etched with anger and determination.
Crap. Looked like Malik didn’t get enough of the power in my blood. And going by Bastien’s expression, he hadn’t had the juice to trap Malik before. Damn. I so didn’t want to find out what other little extras chomping the Emperor’s head had given the psycho.
He waggled his finger at me. ‘I find my elevation to Emperor is proving to be immensely enjoyable, my sweet bride.’ He gave the statue-like Malik a delighted poke.
‘You mean the power you stole,’ I said flatly.
‘Stealing? Ah, yes, it appears thieves abound. For instance, did you know there is another who looks exactly as you do? I believe she may have stolen your identity.’
Confusion winged through me. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
Bastien whirled away, his toga flaring about him, calling, ‘Come and I will show you.’
Heart pounding, I raced after him, barely noticing the four werewolves who had taken up sphinx-like positions around the Empress on her stone, to a spot outside in the lee of the stage.
Bastien waved a hand at the open space with its chain circles and cages. ‘Behold!’
I looked. And stared in horror, my eyes refusing to believe what they were seeing.
The place was a hive of movement. Hugh’s boys and girls in blue had corralled the vamp centurions and a crowd of folk dressed in their designer best, who had to be the auction bidders, into some of the cages. And now they were taking statements from the huddle of Others who were obviously the ‘lots’ from the cages and their ‘coin-holders’ from the chain circles. But despite all the activity under the fierce glare of the halogen spotlights, my eyes fixed on the small group gathered at the heart of it all.
I, or someone who looked enough like me, right down to my black jeans and T-shirt, that Icouldn’t tell the difference, was standing talking to Hugh, Tavish and Finn. Bastien said something, but his words didn’t register past the pulse thundering in my ears. Finn had his hand protectively on the imposter’s shoulder, his horns curving up in full threat mode. Tavish had a nimbus of watery power surrounding him like an aura – a personal Ward – and, held securely in his arms, was a bundle of brown fluff that I recognised as Freya, my niece in her doggy form. The imposter had her arm round Katie, hugging her close. And loitering a few feet away from Katie, his shoulders hunched over, was Katie’s treacherous ‘boyfriend’, Marc, the big-cat-shifter.
It was his gaze, fixed unerringly on the imposter, which tipped me off.
She was Gold Cat. Somehow she’d got herself enough power to make herself solid and then Glamour herself up to look like me, then she’d pulled a fast one and taken my place. And none of my friends appeared to know the difference . . .
Gold Cat
Gold Cat hugged the trembling girl as she sank into the sliver of ‘Genny’ inside her, searching for– ah, the trembling girl was called Katie, and was much loved.She hugged Katiecloser, in spite of the acrid stink of fear, sweat, werewolf and the faint remnants of some disgusting perfume that clung to her. But beneath the stink were the cleaner scents of will and strength and courage. Katiewas a good choice to breed the next generation of their pride. Gold Cat looked over at the young male, Marc, nodding her approval. He jutted his chin, angry and frightened for the girl – protective. He’d make her a good mate– and confused for himself, but not enough to tell the rest gathered around them here, on this, the Summer Solstice, that Gold Cat was not who they thought. Not their ‘Genny’.
How’s it going?The voice of the leannán sidhe came in Gold Cat’s head. You finding your paws okay?
Yes. But not every “lot” is here. There are three missing. The gnome continued with the auction in the Emperor’s absence. The part of me that is Genny is worried about the missing, as is her police friend, the mountain troll. Do you know what has become of them?
‘Hmm, let me see . . . Ah, yes, here’s one. Lot number eight, the hairless cat in the blue jumper.’
Everyone froze as a tarot card appeared in front of Gold Cat. The card showed a tall, shimmering gold female, with shapely devil’s horns and a magnificent peacock tail, standing in one of the silver and copper chain circles. As soon as the gnome released her from the circle, the female smacked him on the head with her coin, then ran over, yanked open the cage and scooped the cat up, raining kisses on his hairless head before the pair vanished with a pop.
‘I wonder what misfortune will befall them from the gold coins,’ Gold Cat said, as the smiling image of the leannán sidhe, twirling her lavender parasol, took the pair’s place on the card.
‘Oh, I would not worry about them. I hear she has connections in low places. Very hot, low places. Like one of the lowest levels of H.E.L.L.’
‘Hell is a place I have never visited,’ Gold Cat said.
The leannán sidhe laughed. ‘You should work on your delivery. You don’t sound like the bean sidhe at all. You need to add some attitude. Oh, and your breasts are too big. The bean sidhe’s are smaller.’
Gold Cat scrutinised her generous proportions. Were they too large? The sliver of Genny thought so, though something else seemed to be encouraging Gold Cat to add to Genny’s slender curves. But she couldn’t afford to draw attention to her Glamour. Reluctantly, she adjusted her shape and size down. ‘I appreciate the advice,’ she told the leannán sidhe. ‘What befell– happened to the other two lots?’
The leannán sidhe tilted her head. ‘Now, who else didn’t give you their coin? Oh, yes, the selkie. His ex-wife kept it. She didn’t want to lose her shot at revenge after he abandoned her and their kids to go back to sea. But she didn’t barter for him. A man from the Golden Hindbought him.’
‘I am confused. Has the selkie not been . . . squatting in the Golden Hindfor the last few months?’
‘The ship on the River Thames, yes. He’s been quite the tourist draw. But his purchaser owns another replica, one in Devon. He wants the selkie so he can use him to drum up trade down there. Which is where the selkie’s family lives anyway.’
‘Why is . . . what’s the catch in that?’
‘Well done! That sounded more like the bean sidhe,’ Viviane nodded approval. ‘The catch is the selkie’s wife will keep his skin, and all his wages as alimony. Wrong decision, really, she should have let him go. This way neither of them will be happy.’
‘That is unfortunate.’
‘Oh, he’s got a better outcome than lot number nine. One of your pride’s ailuranthropes, I believe. No coin-holder turned up for him.’
‘Yes. Steve Dean. My pride memories tell me he was a human turned accidently by a Bite. He was given a position as one of the pride protectors.’
‘Well, Mr Kaito, International Purveyor of Rare Epicurean Delicacies, bid the highest at the auction for Steve Dean, so Steve is now on his way to the next Töhoku Fukushima Annual Charity Banquet. He is to be the main course.’
Gold Cat frowned. ‘Can he be rescued?’
‘He’s already on ice.’
‘Ice? Does that mean he is dead?’
‘Yep.’
‘This makes me sad,’ Gold Cat said. ‘It also makes me glad I consumed the gnome.’
‘How was he?’ the leannán sidhe enquired.
Gold Cat hawked and spat. ‘Ancient, big power, but bad taste.’
‘What about the satyr?’
A satisfied smile spread across Gold Cat’s face and she purred before she could stop herself. ‘The satyr is a good mate.’
‘Glad it worked out for you,’ the leannán sidhe said, her tone envious. ‘Well, I shall return to my cards now. I have one last reading to do for the bean sidhe then I shall gain my freedom. I wish you good luck.’
The world around Gold Cat unfroze and she plucked the tarot card from the air before it dropped. ‘Good luck to you too, leannán sidhe’ she murmured. I owe you one, as Genny would say.
‘Everything okay, Gen?’ The satyr’s concerned voice was warm against her ear.
She smiled at him. ‘Soon will be.’ She waved at the hive of activity in front of her. ‘Once we sort things out with Hugh and this is all over. Then we can go home.’ Which would be the second test.
She’d already passed the first test when the kelpie – Tavish– the one who could taste souls, had shown himself as the coin-holder for the small fluffy dog – Freya, niece, sort of,the sliver of Genny reminded her – though that sliver had been surprised and intrigued that Tavish was the one who’d come for the little shapeshifting faeling. Gold Cat hadn’t been interested enough to ask why. An oversight, she realised now, and something she’d need to rectify. Soon. Consuming the ancient gnome had given her power and living flesh. Shaping that flesh to replicate Genny had been easy, coating her spirit with the sliver of Genny’s soul not much harder, but the true test, as the leannán sidhe had pointed out, lay in aping Genny’s personality.
A human male approached – Bangladeshi ambassador –and Finn gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before leading Katie away.
‘Ambassador,’ Gold Cat said, injecting her tone with interest and sympathy; two things she did not feel, but the sliver of Genny did. ‘How can I help?’
The ambassador, his grey suit crumpled, orange and black striped tie loose about his neck, bowed in front of her, relief plain on his lined face and offered ‘Genny’ his gratitude for her part in rescuing his wife and their son. As Gold Cat listened, she shaded her eyes against the glare from the bright mechanical candles on metal sticks – halogen lights– the sliver of Carlson’s soul that she’d retained informed her. The world had moved on since last she’d walked it in human skin rather than fur, and with her own spirit almost intact. She had a lot to learn from the slivers inside her.
‘. . . we would be delighted to grant you a boon, Lady Genevieve,’ the ambassador finished quietly, ‘should you require one in the future.’
‘That’s very kind,’ Gold Cat said, echoing his deep bow, then felt a prickle of irritation as Genny’s sliver noted she wouldn’t have bowed; too archaic. ‘Thank you, Ambassador.’ Gold Cat forced her mouth to smile. ‘And thank your wife too.’
‘My wife and I wish to extend our gratitude to Mr Jonathan Weir, the zoo’s employee, for his heroic attempt to save our son, Dakkhin. We would not want Mr Weir to suffer for his actions. Unfortunately, the magic in the Bite cannot be taken back. However, Dakkhin is a godling; the grandson of Byaghradevi, the guardian of the Sundarbans, the beautiful jungle. Dakkin wishes to repay Mr Weir’s sacrifice by offering him his blessing. It will ensure Mr Weir will survive the shift. My wife would also offer to care for Mr Weir during this difficult time.’
Byaghradevi, the guardian of the Sundarbans. One of the minor Indian goddesses. A part of Gold Cat remembered meeting her once, millennia ago. Inwardly, she licked her lips; they’d feasted well together on the jungle’s two-legged inhabitants. She searched Genny’s sliver for the appropriate answer to the ambassador.
‘Fine by me, Ambassador,’ she said. ‘But maybe you should check with Jonathan Weir and his partner, who gave up his gold coin. It should be their decision, really.’
The ambassador gave his agreement to do so and moved away, his place taken by the five swan maidens dancing gracefully up to her with their thanks. The three dwarves who had been their collective coin-holder milled anxiously around the scantily feathered girls, getting affectionate, if somewhat sharp pecks on their bald pates for their fussing. The two centaurs came next and offered their own gruff gratitude, then after a mildly suggestive twirl of their ’taches, cantered off towards the Carnival where a spontaneous celebratory party appeared to be getting under way.
Mini the Minotaur stomped up and proffered her thanks by way of a free chase in her labyrinth to the pot of gold, then swung her coin-holder, the leprechaun, up on to her shoulder. The leprechaun gave a long-suffering sigh and grabbed one of Mini’s horns, and they too strolled off in the direction of the party, with a saucy flip of Mini’s tail.
The Arabian phoenix flew past with a grateful dip of its wings then joined her coin-holder, the chipped concrete troll with his fast-food cart. The bird landed on the cart’s burner, scoffed down a fireproof bun as the troll turned the flames up, and, whistling off-tune, pushed the cart towards the rest of the Others.
A fae male in a strange pirate outfit approached. He’d been hanging around the giant squid’s tank. Gold Cat licked her lips at the enticing scent of fish drifting from him then gave a small growl of disappointment. The male – Ricou, dressed in his Captain Jack Sparrow Glamour– lived with Genny as a . . . flatmate? – Ah, part of her pride– It disappointed Gold Cat that she wouldn’t be able to eat Ricou either in this guise or the male’s true naiad form. He smelled like he’d taste delicious.
‘Hello, luv, how’s tricks?’ the pirate said cheerfully. ‘Hear you’ve had a busy time of it.’
‘Hey, Ricou.’ She twisted her mouth in a grin. ‘Didn’t expect to see you here.’
Ricou pointed at the giant squid madly waving three of its tentacles. ‘That’s Gustaf, he’s Bertha’s pal.’
The name Bertha produced an image of a huge angry eel in Gold Cat’s mind. An angry eel with very sharp teeth that delighted in terrorising Genny. ‘Bertha’s got a pal?’
Ricou twirled his beard. ‘Bertha got a bit upset when old Gustaf didn’t turn up the other night, so I’ve been out looking for him. Wasn’t till she spat out a gold coin that it clicked what had gone on. She couldn’t come herself, obviously, so I did the honours. Thanks for saving him, luv.’
‘No worries,’ she replied. ‘Maybe Bertha will stop trying to take chunks out of me now.’ And if not, the eel would make a tasty meal in place of the naiad.
He made a high clicking sound: laughter. ‘She might, luv, you never know. I’ll get him home and see you later. Sylvia’s looking forward to catching up on the gossip.’
‘Sure,’ Gold Cat agreed, thinking gossip was not something she was accustomed to. Or overly interested in. Nor was she interested in talking to Sylvia, the other flatmate. Dryads were only useful when it came to sharpening one’s claws.
The kelpie sauntered towards her, the small faeling dog nipping playfully at his heels. Trailing after them was a small black Labrador-like puppy. As they neared, the Black Dog puppy lifted its head and fixed Gold Cat with its red eyes. Fear slammed into her and she almost shifted and killed it before she remembered she wasn’t herself; she’d deal with the Black Dog later. It was still a puppy so there was time to reverse its Prophecy of Death.
The kelpie indicated the tarot card Gold Cat held. ‘I’m thinking that card holds our answer, doll,’ he said, the beads on his dreads flashing an eager green.
Gold Cat forced her attention away from the Black Dog and looked down at the card. Against a blue velvet background it showed two images. The top image was of a Fabergé egg encrusted with sapphires and diamonds. The image below showed the same egg, but open, and nestled inside it was the sapphire pendant that contained the fae’s trapped fertility. The sliver of Genny recognised it as the Fabergé egg the sorcerer had used to trap souls last Hallowe’en, and was surprised and frustrated that she’d let it slip through her fingers more than once.
‘Yep, this is what we’re looking for.’ Gold Cat held the card up to show the kelpie, twisting her face with worry. ‘But it was lost in the demon attack. It’s in the River Thames somewhere.’ The kelpie’s eyes swirled black with satisfaction. ‘If ’tis in the river then ’tis as good as found.’
‘Good to know.’ Gold Cat handed him the card. And the problem. The only fertility she was interested in was that of her pride.
As if on cue, Finn wrapped an arm around her shoulders. ‘That’s everyone safe and sound, Gen. And Hugh says he’ll catch up with us tomorrow. Ready to go to the party and celebrate with the rest?’
Gold Cat smiled. She had a lot to celebrate, not least the satyr. ‘How about we have our own party at home?’
He dropped a butterfly-light kiss on her mouth. ‘If you’re sure that’s what you want, Gen?’
Gold Cat glanced over her shoulder to where the real Genny stared from the lee of the stage, anger and the urge to kill radiating from her. Gold Cat stiffened subtly, her hackles rising as the Death she’d seen in the Black Dog’s eyes flashed before her. She readied to defend herself, then as Genny slowly stepped back into the shadows, Gold Cat relaxed and turned to the satyr.
She smiled and cupped Finn’s cheek. ‘Oh, I’m very sure that us together is what I want.’ Mate.
Genny
The evil, life-stealing cat had her hands on Finn!
Rage and fear exploded in me, Ascalon leaped into my hand, and I ran—
Straight into an invisible wall. I bounced off, landing painfully on my tailbone, and belatedly looked. The blue curtain of a Ward shimmered like a heatwave, the grey drops of a Look-away veil distorting it like sheeting rain.
I focused, ready to crackthe Ward and Look-away, then froze as Bastien spoke. ‘Before you go racing off to demand satisfaction, my lovely sidhe, there is one small matter we need to discuss.’
I turned to find him with a gleeful smile on his sadistic teenage face. ‘What?’
‘I believe you have a set of tarot cards. Now would be an excellent time to consult them.’
I stared at him for a long moment, wanting nothing more than to plunge Ascalon into his heart as I’d done in the Dreamscape, then do the same to Gold Cat. Instead, I forced myself to stay calm, to play this out to the end. I let Ascalon slip back into the ring, slowly got up, and fished the cards from my back pocket. A gust of jasmine-scented wind blasted my hair back as one card flew to hover in front of my face.
The last tarot card.
The last tarot card didn’t need my blood, it already depicted an image. A male and female stood side by side, a plump cherub floating on a sunny cloud above and the Rod of Asclepius with its entwined serpent between them. The female figure was Sylvia, hands protectively spread over her pregnant belly and the sapphire fertility pendant nestled between her ‘Hello Boys’ breasts. The male figure was Bastien, crowned with his new imperial laurel wreath and (thankfully, since he was naked too) holding a misty grey disc about the size of a dinner plate strategically in front of him.
Of course, the last card would be The Lovers. The sadistic prick would revel in the irony of it. Especially as this was no doubt where the smarmy smiling psycho asked for my blood-bond and my body in exchange for telling me the answer to my question. Trouble was, I hadn’t a clue how I was going to get out of saying yes.
I curled my lip in disgust, hiding the dread icing my spine and flicked the card. ‘Hurry it up.’
Sylvia on the card gave me a tremulous smile I’d never seen on her in person. ‘You have a choice to make, Genny. It has to be made now, and if you make the wrong decision, then what has gone before will not matter; the fae’s fertility will never be recovered, it will be lost for ever and the fae will die.’ Her hands clutched at her bump.
I glared at Real Life Bastien. ‘Do you really think I’m going to believe that bullshit? When I know you and Viv have been in league since the beginning?’
He shrugged and tapped the card. Sylvia vanished to be replaced by Viviane, twirling her parasol with an affronted expression on her face. ‘The cards are sidhe-made, bean sidhe, so speak the truth. I can influence them to show less, but I cannot make them lie. You would do well to listen to them.’
Right. ‘What’s the choice?’
She reached over and touched the shoulder of Bastien in the card. A ripple ran through the picture and he blinked, then looked out of the card at me and flashed fang.
‘Ask your original question and he must answer truthfully,’ Viviane said.
I snorted. ‘Tell me how to find that which is lost, and how to join that which is sundered, to release the fae’s fertility from the pendant and restore it back to them as it was before it was taken.’
‘That which is lost is already found,’ Card Bastien said, and from behind the misty disc-thing he produced a Fabergé egg encrusted with sapphires. My heart stuttered as I recognised it as the one lost in the demon attack at Hallowe’en. Shit. I’d had the answer to the fae’s problem in my hands (or rather the bank) until the sorcerer had stolen the egg, and I’d never fucking known it. And now Smugly Smiling Bastien had it. I wanted to scream in frustration.
Real Life Bastien’s smile widened. ‘I know who has the Fabergé egg and on my word they have agreed to give it to you.’
‘Who’s got it?’ I demanded. ‘And when will you tell them to give it to me?’
Both Bastiens shook their heads, not that I’d expected anything else, then Card Bastien said, ‘To join that which is sundered and release the fae’s fertility from the pendant and restore it back to them as it was before it was taken, you will need this.’ He held up the misty grey disc and flashed something else. Thankfully, the tarot card was small, and everything else smaller, making it easy to ignore. ‘You will obtain it and bring it back to me.’
I gritted my teeth. ‘What is it, who has it and where is it?’
‘First you must agree the price.’
‘What’s the price?’
Both Bastiens closed their eyes, Card Bastien rubbing his fingers over the disc in a show of deep thought.
I clenched my fists as impatience warred with anxiety. The sadist knew exactly what he wanted; he was only drawing this out to make me sweat. While I needed this over with. Needed to do the bargain. Then I could kill Gold Cat and make sure my friends were all safe. Hug Katie and Freya. Talk things through with Finn. Tell Tavish how to restore the fae’s fertility. Get back to Spellcrackers and my life, away from all this craziness. And find out what happened next between me and Malik. Only, the roiling in my gut told me some, maybe even all, of that probably wasn’t going to happen.
Finally, Card Bastien nodded as if he’d come to a decision. ‘You are to keep Malik al-Khan’s soul.’
Surprise washed through me. Okay, that was unexpected and not necessarily a deal breaker—
‘No, Genevieve. You will not.’
–for me anyway. I winced as Malik’s shouted order clamped my mind, and his soul speared its claws into my heart. Then Malik’s order cracked and melted like ice caught in fire. I shot an astonished look over my shoulder to see him striding towards us, flames burning in his pupils, black shadows writhing about him in fury.
Real Life Bastien gave a grunt of disgust and, out the corner of my eye, I saw him lift his finger again and Malik and his shadows froze. I turned back to scowl at the psycho unease shivering over me. Bastien was determined to be rid of Malik’s soul, Malik was just as determined I shouldn’t have it, while his soul looked like it was clinging – literally – to my heart. And I was the one stuck in the middle. I didn’t need any of Viv’s predictions to tell me this wasn’t going to end well.
Bastien waggled his finger. ‘You will notice, my princess, that while you bear my loyal shadow’s soul you are no longer under his sway. He can no longer order you to do his bidding. Am I correct?’
Ah, well, that explained why Malik’s order didn’t take.Not that I was going to tell the psycho he was right. ‘Get on with it.’
‘You will also find you no longer carry his marks on your flesh.’ He waved a dismissive hand at me and I resisted the urge to check the bruises on my wrist and my chest, refusing to give him a milligram of satisfaction. ‘I believe that is what you wanted; to be the one in control of your life. To not have other people making decisions for you. To make your own choices, on your own terms. Well, now you can, my lovely sidhe.’
He was repeating – almost word for word – what I’d told Tavish at the gnome’s house right before the first tarot card reading. Fucking Viviane, earwigging on private conversations. And never mind what Bastien said, stripping Malik of the power to order me around didn’t instantly grant me control of my life. Or stop self-satisfied sacks of shit like Bastien from blackmailing me.
‘Fine!’ I snapped. ‘Your price for giving me the information I need to be able to sort out the fae’s fertility is to keep Malik’s soul. I—’
‘Not so fast, princess,’ he interrupted, angry colour staining his cheeks. Inwardly, I cursed. I’d known he’d want more, but I’d nearly had him. ‘There are two parts to your question,’ he said, ‘so there are two parts to my price. The first is that you are to keep Malik’s soul until either he agrees to take it back, or I agree its transfer to myself or another.’
Now we were getting to it. ‘What’s the second?’
‘When you attain that’ – he pointed at the misty disc Card Bastien was holding – ‘I am to have first use of it before any other.’
I clamped down on my shock. He didn’t want my blood-bond? Was this a trick? I narrowed my eyes. ‘Will your first use in any way negate or destroy the disc’s power, or stop it from having the ability to join that which is sundered and release the fae’s fertility from the pendant, so that their fertility is restored to all as it was before it was taken, in an acceptable time frame – which I would nominate as no longer than three human-world days – or in any way deny the fae the use of the disc immediately after you?’
‘No.’
Nice unequivocal answer, so no deal-breaker there. Something which had suspicion twitching over my skin. Really, if I ignored Malik’s agitation about keeping his soul, it was way too easy. ‘What’s the disc?’
‘An item of great power,’ Bastien said, an ecstatic expression lighting his face.
Figured. ‘Does it have a name?’
‘The Hidden Rune of Iron.’
Well, at least it wasn’t the Holy Grail or a Golden Fleece. ‘What’s it do?’
He gave me a look as if it were a stupid question. ‘One of its other names is the Restorer.’
I cut him a look. ‘What do you want to restore?’
He smiled.
I shrugged. ‘So where is it?’
‘The Hidden Rune of Iron is also thus named due to its ephemeral nature which makes it difficult to locate.’
Damn. Easy just got hard.
A sly look crossed his face. ‘But I have it on good authority that it has been seen recently at The Court of Love and Beauty in the Fair Lands.’
Crap. Hard just hit dangerous. An impossible to find magical item, and– ‘The queen of that Court is Clíona, my grandmother.’
He inclined his head. ‘Then maybe she can be of assistance to you, my princess, and your quest will be concluded quickly.’
Concluded and quick it would be, but not because I’d find the Rune. ‘My grandmother wants me dead.’
‘Well, well, not everything in life is convenient.’
He’d got that right.
On the card, Viviane twirled her parasol. ‘The time has come for you to choose, bean sidhe. Do you accept Bastien’s price, or not?’
‘So I keep Malik’s soul and attain this Hidden Rune of Iron under the exact conditions specified, and at that point you will ensure that the person who has the Fabergé egg will give the egg to me, or to any of London’s fae, with all knowledge that they have about the item, in its undamaged condition.’
A frown lined his brows. ‘The egg will be undamaged from their possession, as for anything else, I cannot say.’
I grunted in acknowledgement. ‘Fair enough. So that’s it? There’s nothing else?’ Like wanting my blood-bond?
Bastien smiled. ‘There is one other condition.’
Of course there was. ‘What?’
‘Time is of the essence,’ Card Bastien said. ‘You must leave now. No stopping to converse with your friends or anyone else. Otherwise the opportunity to attain the rune will be lost.’
I rocked back on my heels. ‘You’re kidding me?’
‘He cannot lie, bean sidhe,’ Viviane said softly. ‘His spirit is guided by the cards.’
I looked away from the card to the open space, at those I loved gathered around Gold Cat the imposter. If I left now, with her there, they might never know I was gone . . .
An ache closed my throat; my eyes stung. I took a deep breath, swallowed the threatening tears back. No way would I give Bastien the satisfaction of seeing how much leaving would hurt. Then panic overwhelmed that hurt as something way more crucial hit me. Gold Cat was out for survival, her own and her pride, and ruthless with it. If I left now, who knew what she’d do to Katie, and to Finn. And Bastien’s price meant I couldn’t even warn them, let alone protect them—
I had Ascalon. I could kill her.
It would take no more than a minute.
Or ten.
Or she’d fight back, and even with Ascalon I might not be a match for a primal spirit. Then what if I killed her? There’d still be the fallout. Ten minutes could end up an hour or more . . .
But no way did I trust Bastien or Viviane’s tarot cards not to skew things in their favour. For all I knew I could have days, weeks even, before the chance to locate the Rune was lost. But could I take that risk when the fae’s fertility was at stake, and ultimately their lives too?
In a weird déjà vu moment, I realised I’d been here before, not this exact spot, and not this exact choice, but I was still making a decision that would affect them all. But as Tavish had told me, it was my blood on both my fae and vamp sides that had started this. I was the key. If I screwed up and chose wrong it wasn’t only Katie and Finn in peril, but Tavish and Ana and Freya and Sylvia and Ricou and Baby Grace and all the rest. They were all fae. They would all die.
My heart hurting as if it were being ripped in two, I turned back at Bastien.
