Sweet Scent of Blood (11 page)

Hugh’s hair had flattened, giving him a hard, crushing look. Had he remembered about the goblin’s bling, remembered how young and inexperienced the goblin was? ‘Hugh,’ I muttered, trying to catch his attention.

‘Not now, Genny,’ he said, voice calm. ‘Go back inside. This is no place for you.’

Maybe he was right.

But it was too late.

The door crashed open. A chill wind rushed in, swirled round the hall, set the lights swinging on their chains and rattled the glass in the windows.

Then all was perfect stillness.

And the sound of the goblin slapping his bat on the palm of his hand sounded as loud as a fire-dragon’s jaw snapping closed.

Chapter Nine

T
hree vampires walked into the police station.
It sounds like one of those jokes, except I doubted anyone would be laughing by the time we got to the punch-line.

The first one through the door lived up to the romantic stereotype: he swept his velvet knee-length jacket back with a flourish and posed with one hand on his hip. Ivory lace billowed at his wrists and neck, and a black ribbon caught his tawny hair in a loose pony-tail at the nape of his neck. Aquiline nostrils flared as he cast an arrogant look around the room, passing over Alan Hinkley, Neil Banner and the grinning goblin, all clustered on my right. He stopped when he reached me.

A shiver ran down my spine as his eyes met mine.

It looked like it was the night for all the old ones to surface, though as with the Armani-suited vamp, I didn’t recognise this particular vamp either
.

A warning rumble issued from deep within Hugh’s chest.

The vampire snapped his head round, sniffed with disdain at Hugh, then settled his attention on DI Crane. His expression turned intense, brooding. With his eyes never leaving hers, he extended his right leg and bowed. ‘You are very beautiful, Madame.’ He spoke slowly, with a thick accent.

Her eyes wide, she pressed her lips together until they disappeared. Her fingers, clenched around the sapphire pendant at her breast, were almost bloodless.

Damn.
The new DI was afraid of the vamps - not just a healthy, ‘hey, they could be dangerous’ type of fear, but what looked suspiciously like a full-on phobia. So what the hell was she doing running the magic murder squad?

I shot a look at Hugh, but he was still glowering at the lace-bedecked vampire.

‘Good evening.’ Vampire Number Two appeared, moving with effortless grace to stand just in front of Lacy. He smiled, fangs hidden. The smile was charm itself, not vamp
mesma
, just centuries of practise - eight centuries, to be precise, if the media had got it right, except he looked to be in his early thirties. An Oxford-blue shirt accentuated his azure eyes and blond hair, while his blazer, grey flannels and loafers gave the impression he was generally to be found idly punting down the Thames. Instead he played the Godfather to London’s Blood Families.

This was the Undead Lord, the Earl.

‘I must apologise for the theatrics.’ The Earl gestured at Lacy. ‘Louis, my companion, is a little concerned about his friend, Roberto October. I am afraid his feelings have rather overwhelmed him.’

I frowned at Lacy Louis. Was this the same Louis who’d sunk his fangs into Holly, the faeling I’d met earlier? The vamp she’d said Bobby had argued with?

Louis was still brooding at the Inspector. ‘I
regrette
also, Madame.’

Then the third vampire shuffled in behind, his shoes squeaking across the floor like an anxious mouse. He stopped, hovering halfway between the Earl and Alan’s little group. His rumpled suit looked about as comfortable as a hair shirt and his undone shoe laces trailed about his feet. One sharp fang had pierced his bottom lip, and a sluggish bead of blood dripped onto his collar, merging with the rusty stains already there. He peered around, the fretful look of a young child on his thirtysomething face.

The other vamps ignored him. But then, he did kind of spoil the show.

‘That’s the vampire solicitor.’ Alan’s muttered comment to Neil Banner broke the expectant silence. ‘He didn’t look like that last night. What’s the matter with him?’

It was a good question. A better one was why had the Earl brought him along?

‘My dear Inspector.’ The Earl extended his hand to DI Crane.

She flinched and Hugh moved nearer, his warning rumble again reverberating around the hall.

Shuffle Vamp stumbled backwards.

The Earl let his hand fall. ‘My sincere apologies for calling upon you unannounced, as it were,’ he said smoothly. ‘When Westman’ - he indicated Shuffle Vamp - ‘explained the situation to me, I felt I had to come immediately.’ His charming smile was tinged with sadness. ‘Please do forgive me.’

DI Crane appeared to regain her composure. She gave him a small nod. ‘Yes, of course, Lord—?’

‘I am known simply as the Earl, my dear lady. There is no need to stand on any ceremony. My claim to my title passed some long years ago and I have no wish to inconvenience the current bearer by reclaiming it. Time stands still for no man.’ He inclined his head. ‘Please do not let me keep you from your duties any more. It is Mr Hinkley I wish to speak to.’

DI Crane frowned uncertainly at Louis until Hugh bent his head down to hers and said something too low for me to hear. She straightened her shoulders, shaking her head.

I rubbed the back of my neck, still uneasy. What was Lacy Louis doing here? That ‘friend’ story was a load of crap. The Earl turning up full of concern, that was believable; he was probably running media interference ... except that there were no reporters hanging round to scribble down his well-thought-out off-the-cuff remarks.

And that led me straight on to another question: why weren’t there any journalists about? You’d think they were an extinct species, going by the lack of news coverage outside Old Scotland Yard. The only hack in evidence was Alan himself - who was now listening intently to the Earl - and he didn’t count.

‘Such a terrible time.’ The Earl’s tone was warm, solicitous, with just the tiniest whisper of vamp
mesma
to boost the feelings. ‘And I understand you have dispensed with Westman’s services.’

At the mention of his name, Westman shuffled closer to them. He didn’t look in any fit state to offer advice - and he also appeared more interested in Neil Banner and his goblin than in his erstwhile client.

I narrowed my eyes, frowning. Why
had
the Earl brought him along?

The goblin twisted his bat in his palm, his head swinging like a metronome from side to side, trying to keep both vampires in range.

I was still frowning when I realised the Earl was moving my way.

‘It is wonderful to meet you at last, Ms Taylor.’ He smiled and held out one pale manicured hand.

I tried not to tense as I shook his hand. His palm was warm and dry and felt exactly as a hand should. But that was it. There was no annoying throb in my neck. No desire to spill my blood at his feet. The apprehension in my gut went down a notch. The G-Zav was doing its thing.

‘I have heard such delightful things about you.’ He gave me a benign look from under his flop of blond hair. ‘I feel as if I already know you, so I shall call you Genevieve.’

I beamed at him. He could call me what he liked, so long as he didn’t think I was going to call him Master.

‘You really are extraordinarily beautiful, my dear.’ He reached out, traced a butterfly touch along my jaw. I wanted to brush his hand away, but gritted my teeth instead. ‘A delicate, yet eminently strong bone structure.’ His blue eyes lit with manly appreciation ... only something told me it was more because he thought I expected it than because he actually meant it. ‘You have a dancer’s figure: slender, muscled, but ultimately feminine. You would look wonderful cast in bronze. I have quite an extensive collection of Degas.’ He patted my hand and leaned towards me. ‘I would be honoured if you would view it some time.’

I gave a surprised laugh, tugging my hand from his. Were we talking euphemisms? ‘I’m not sure bronzes are my thing, but thanks anyway.’ Then I frowned. Why were the DI and Hugh still holding their staring contest with Lacy Louis?

‘Perhaps you could enlighten my curiosity then, Genevieve.’ He adjusted his cuffs carefully. ‘Admirable as your offer to help dear Roberto is, I do find it a little strange, given your usual avoidance of the vampire community.’ He gave me a conspiratorial smile. ‘How exactly did you make his acquaintance? ’

‘Through Roberto’s father, Alan Hinkley,’ I said.

‘How interesting.’ His words came with a push of
mesma
to tell him more. It buzzed round me like an irritating fly. I mentally waved it away and looked over at Alan.

Had Alan repeated that cryptic comment about Siobhan to the Earl? Not that it mattered; Alan didn’t know anything else. Now he was talking to Banner, looking anxious. In contrast, Banner was ignoring both Alan and Jeremiah the goblin, gazing past them at Westman like he’d found the last chocolate in the box. And wasn’t he lucky? It was only his
favourite
.

Westman stared back, his expression mirroring Banner’s. Damn. Westman had hit him with a mind-lock, and not the careful, controlled mind-lock the Armani-suited vamp had used on Alan Hinkley earlier, but a full-out melding, as dangerous for the vamp as for his victim.

This was
so
not good.

Westman licked his lips, took another shuffling step towards Neil Banner.

Shit.
Had anyone else noticed what was happening? I looked at Hugh, but he was
still
glowering at Lacy Louis, and DI Crane was
still
clutching her sapphire - it was almost as if someone had pressed pause on them.

I looked back at the Earl. He watched me with interest, his charming smile full of calculation.

‘What are you doing?’ I snapped.

‘I? Why, nothing, my dear.’ He gestured at Westman and Banner. ‘But it looks as if they are of like mind, and far be it for me to come between them.’

Banner took a step towards Westman.

The goblin let out a high-pitched howl.

Banner and Westman ignored him.

The DI and Hugh stayed frozen like statues.

Hoisting his bat, Jeremiah the goblin bounced on his feet, trainers flashing red, and charged at Westman. Trapped in his own mind-lock, Westman didn’t even see the goblin coming. The goblin’s bat slammed into the back of the vamp’s legs with a loud snap, bringing him to his knees. The goblin pirouetted with the up-swing, ringlets fanning out in a circle, and swung the weapon round, smacking Westman solidly in the stomach. He doubled over, head thudding against the floor with a sickening crack. Another elegant pirouette, the bat raised high above him, and the goblin was ready for the third and final blow, the one that would smash Westman’s skull like an overripe melon.

I have to end this.
‘Jeremiah, stop!’ I shouted, hoping desperately that he’d heed me.

The goblin hesitated, then froze.

Screams of pain echoed round the hall.

Westman lay crumpled, silent.

The screams came from Banner, who writhed on the floor, fingers scrabbling at the lino, trying to pull himself to Westman.

I grabbed hold of Alan’s hand and he started, looking down at me in shock. I pushed him at Banner. ‘Keep him away from the vampire,’ I cried as I shoved the command into his mind and pointed at Westman. Alan looked dazed, but nodded, and I raced towards the fight.

I slid onto my knees between the goblin and Westman and threw my hands up. The goblin’s black plastic lenses stared down at me as the silver-foiled club glinted in the overhead lights. His ski-slope nose twitched once, acknowledging that he saw me.

‘Magic not gone.’ His soft voice held confusion.

‘It’s joined together.’ I brought my palms together and entwined my fingers, ‘Like this.’

He flexed his arms, lifting the bat higher. ‘I break it.’

‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘You can’t break it. You’ll hurt the human you protect.’ I banged my hands on the floor, keeping one fist inside the other. ‘See.’

A ringlet fell across his face as his head dipped. ‘Job bad.’

‘No. I can stop the magic.’

His nose twitched again.

‘Like this.’ I extended my fisted hands and slowly eased them apart until I held them out to either side of me, palms facing up.

He studied my hands for a moment, then whispered, ‘Job good?’

I blew out a relieved breath, the tension in my shoulders easing. ‘Job good,’ I agreed.

The goblin started to lower his bat ...

... a dark blur hit my back, knocking me on my side ...

... hands lifted the goblin up like a garden faerie snatching a dragonfly, swung him round and launched him hard through the tall window into the darkness outside ...

A stunned silence filled the hall.

Louis walked over to the window, placed a finger on a jagged piece of glass and pushed it out of the frame. A faint tinkling noise echoed through the open gap. Turning to survey the hall, he smoothed pale hands over his velvet jacket, a satisfied expression on his face.

‘Jesus effing Christ!’ A voice I didn’t recognise broke the silence and as I swivelled towards it I saw a uniformed constable crouching over Alan Hinkley’s body, staring at the broken window.
Damn.
Where was Banner? Two more uniforms, one human, the other a large troll I recognised, Constable Lamber, had their backs towards me; they had someone barricaded in the corner. Constable Lamber held his hands out in a placatory manner as he backed away. And I saw Banner. The Earl was using his limp body as a shield.

Footsteps sounded behind me and I turned to see Constable Curly-hair running towards the front door.

Louis loomed over me and I glared up at him. It was he who’d thrown the goblin out of the window. ‘What the fuck did you do that for?’ I sat up. ‘He’d stopped.’

Louis dropped into a crouch, forearms resting on his velvet clad thighs. ‘
Fuck.
I like zis word.’ He smiled, but his eyes stayed blank, like a dead fish. ‘Fuck. Fuckfuck.
Fuckfuck.
’