‘Who’s the lucky lady?’ Medici asks.
Connor’s eyes widen. ‘Oh. Me and my big mouth. I probably shouldn’t have said anything. They told me not to…’
‘Matthew,’ Medici calls. ‘Who is Arzo’s long lost love?’
‘Dolly.’
Medici looks puzzled. ‘Do you mean Dahlia?’
Bingo.
‘Yeah, sorry.’ Matt nods. ‘Dahlia.’
Medici smiles nastily. I shiver. ‘Would you say he’d do anything for her?’
Before Matt can answer, Connor butts in. ‘Yup!’
Medici has obviously had enough of the ginger-haired human. ‘Get out of here. Matthew, get in the car.’
The nearest vampire stalks up and stands over Connor, blocking him from speaking to Matt who, again following the order he’s been given, goes to the car. Unfortunately for Medici he trips, sending the hot coffee he’s still clutching in a tsunami that drenches the vampire Lord from head to foot. All four vampires, including the one guarding Connor, jump forward.
‘Matt, let’s get out of here before Lord Medici snaps our necks,’ Connor says. ‘Run to the bike.’ The pair take advantage of the kerfuffle. As soon as the bike’s engine is revving, Connor shouts out, ‘I’m sorry! It’ll come out in the wash! Please don’t kill us!’ They disappear into the night. I want to stand up and applaud.
‘You idiots!’ Medici spits. ‘Get off me!’
The bloodguzzlers, who are ineffectually dabbing at the coffee that’s still dripping into tiny puddles around Medici’s feet, spring backwards.
‘I’m sorry, my Lord.’
‘We can go after them…’
‘Don’t bother,’ Medici growls. ‘There’ll be other times. At least we now know we did the sensible thing taking the woman. She may be an asset‒ when she calms down.’ A dribble of coffee travels down his cheek. One of the vampires reaches forward to wipe it away. Medici lunges out and grabs him by the throat. ‘I told you to get off me. Imbecile.’ He lets go and the vampire drops to the ground. Medici casually aims a kick at his mid-section then gets into the waiting car. Two minutes later, the square is completely deserted.
Chapter Twenty: Plant
Michael’s spine is rigid. ‘I’ll kill him.’
The murderous look in his eyes makes me quake. I’m glad I’m not in the Medici Family right now.
‘You can’t.’ Arzo is more pragmatic, despite the anguish visible on his lined face. ‘My Lord, if you upset the balance of the Families, you’ll set us back months. That’s time we can’t afford to lose.’
‘His actions could destroy everything.’ I gnaw on my bottom lip. ‘Who knows what else he’s planning?’
‘We could infiltrate them.’
‘How?’
Arzo shakes his head. ‘I don’t know.’
Michael’s mouth is set in a grim line. ‘The Family laws guard against that kind of action. It would be nigh on impossible.’
‘Do you think he knows we’re onto him?’
He shakes his head. ‘He might have suspicions but he won’t know for sure.’
‘What about the vampire from the street that I downed?’
He doesn’t meet my eyes. ‘He’s taken care of.’
‘How?’
Arzo raises his eyebrows. ‘The old time-honoured disposal technique?’
Michael nods. I put my hands on my hips. ‘Which is?’
‘It’s a Montserrat matter, Bo.’
My shoulders tense. ‘Are you suggesting I can’t be trusted?’
‘No. But this is on a need-to-know basis.’
‘And I don’t need to know? I was involved, Michael. I’m responsible for what happened.’
‘No, you’re not. Let it go.’
Uneasily, I search both his face and Arzo’s. If I push, I’ll never get a straight answer. I take the sensible ‒but more frustrating‒ approach and file it away. I’ll find out the truth when emotions are less inflamed.
Arzo changes the subject. ‘What about Dahlia? How do we save her?’ he demands.
Michael sighs. ‘We can’t. It’s too late. She’s already a Medici fledgling.’
‘Maybe she won’t drink. Maybe she’ll become Sanguine,’ I say. Arzo and Michael stare at me. I shrug uncomfortably. ‘It could happen.’
‘Yeah,’ Arzo spits. ‘Or maybe you’ll find a magical cure to reverse the process.’
I stop breathing. The vial of X’s blood sitting in my fridge upstairs might turn out to be the most dangerous‒ or the most useful‒ liquid on the planet.
Thankfully Michael interrupts, although he flicks me a sardonic look. ‘We used to have people trained in espionage who could infiltrate anything. The end of the Cold War has a lot to answer for. These days we leave that sort of stuff up to our American cousins. Our vampires are too damned rusty to be any use.’
‘A spymaster would be handy,’ I agree. Michael’s eyes slide towards Arzo. ‘What?’ I demand.
Michael shrugs uncomfortably. ‘You do need someone with experience to take charge of the firm.’
I shake my head. ‘Oh no. Don’t go there. Don’t even say the words.’
‘He knows tribers, Bo.’
‘He hates tribers.’
‘His beloved granddaughter is a triber.’
I hiss. ‘He’s retired. He won’t do it.’
‘There’s no harm in asking.’
I glare at them both. ‘He’ll turn you down.’
There’s the faintest of trace of a smile on Michael’s lips. ‘If you say so.’
I roll my eyes in disgust and grab my leather jacket. ‘I’m going out for some fresh air.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Michael says.
‘Don’t bother. I’ve got some business to attend to.’
He stills. ‘What kind of business?’
‘It’s personal.’ I look at Arzo. ‘I know you don’t want any secrets, but this is nothing to do with the firm or the Family.’
‘Take Matt then,’ Michael says.
I point to Matt’s gently snoring shape. ‘I don’t think he’s in the mood. And I’ve said it before, my Lord. You’re not my boss.’ I shouldn’t say the words but I do. ‘This is on a need-to-know basis.’
Michael snarls quietly.
I sigh, softening my approach. ‘I think I’ve proved I can take care of myself. I might be a fledgling but that doesn’t mean I’m a weak little kitten. I’m stronger than Matt. Perhaps you should have a little faith in me.’ I hold his gaze. I could lose myself for hours in those stormy depths. Maybe I don’t need to trust him, maybe I just need him to look at me with that intense spark that somehow touches the very core of my being…
‘I think that was a knock at the door,’ Arzo interrupts. ‘I’ll just go and…’
‘No, it’s alright. Bo’s a big girl. She’s right.’ A muscle jerks in Michael’s cheek. ‘You should go. You need to be back before dawn after all.’
‘Thank you.’ I reach up on my tiptoes to peck his cheek. His head turns at just the last second, however, and I kiss him on the lips. My insides tighten.
‘Don’t get hurt,’ he says.
I smile at him while Arzo coughs awkwardly. To avoid further embarrassment, I leave as quickly as I can.
* * *
Using my newly acquired company smartphone, I call ahead. It would be better to see O’Connell’s face when he learns that I’m alive but I’d barely make it across the Magix threshold before someone told him about my arrival so it would be a wasted effort. This way, at least I can catch him off guard. I’ll have to use a low-tech device – my own ears‒ to work out if he’s surprised that I’m not a burnt corpse. I’m hoping it will be news to him because then I’ll find out whether he’s happy or distraught. His reaction will determine whether he’s made an enemy for life or merely a disgruntled acquaintance.
‘Good evening. I’m calling from the Daily Digest. We’re running a story tomorrow about Fingertips and Frolics, a store that was pushed out of the ma
rket by Magix corporation’s dubious business practices. Would you like to include a quote?’
‘Hold the line.’
I wait. Less than half a minute later O’Connell’s voice fills the line. ‘This is O’Connell. I believe you’re a representative from the Digest?’
‘Actually, no,’ I say softly. ‘I’m not.’
He’s silent for some time before speaking. ‘You’re alive, Ms Blackman.’
‘I am.’
‘You know that it was not my desire to see you hurt. The man who attacked you has been dealt with accordingly.’
‘There were two men.’
‘Ah, yes. I’m told you dispatched the first one with admirable ease. Regardless, I have made it very clear to all my employees that you are not to be harmed. If you are, the consequences for them will be … devastating.’
I shiver. O’Connell clearly doesn’t appreciate dissent in the ranks. But I am satisfied that he’s telling the truth. ‘I was hoping that we could meet face to face,’ I say evenly. ‘I have a few questions.’
He laughs. ‘Ah. You’ve uncovered my pet project, haven’t you? You realise that if you really did work for the Daily Digest, you’d have quite a scoop.’
‘I’m sure you have plenty of willing hacks who’ll publicise your efforts when you want them to. After all, if you have the police moonlighting for you, why not a journalist or two?’
‘I am impressed! Ms Blackman, we really should put you on the payroll. You have uncovered a great deal.’
I dangle the carrot. ‘Then meet me.’
‘When would suit you?’
I stop walking and gaze up at the Magix building. ‘Oh, right about now sounds good.’
* * *
Swanson meets me at the entrance, magical handcuffs at the ready. I hold out my wrists like a good little vampire. ‘It’s good to see you’re still in one piece,’ she says. ‘Mr O’Connell didn’t want you killed.’
‘He’s all heart.’
She looks at me earnestly. ‘He is. He’s going to change the world, you know.’
‘So I keep hearing.’
‘Don’t be so sceptical. It’s taken a while, but he’s finally aligned everything.’ Her eyes shine. ‘We’re going to make history.’
Her adulatory tone makes me cringe but I don’t want to pass up the opportunity to make a friend. You never know which contacts might prove useful in the future. I humour her. ‘How long has he been in charge?’
‘Since 2001. I remember the day he joined us. It was September but still very hot and sunny. He spent three days meeting every employee individually. Not every boss cares that much.’
‘Mmm.’
She drops me off in the same waiting area as before. I decline the offer of a drink, even though she states proudly they have O neg on ice. I wouldn’t trust anything from this place passing my lips. She leaves and I settle down on the uncomfortable sofa. Thankfully this time I’m not subjected to my own exploits on CCTV; instead, the television is playing an old interview of O’Connell’s.
‘There are people who say that Magix is only concerned with profit,’ says the glossy interviewer. ‘What do you say to that?’
‘Money doesn’t interest me. It won’t do you any good when you’re six feet under. My priority is making the world a better place.’
I clutch a cushion and stare at his smiling face. Damn. I’ve heard those words before.
‘Ms Blackman.’
I turn in O’Connell’s direction and jump to my feet. I scan his features, taking in every detail. He strides over and takes my hand. ‘I would like to apologise sincerely again.’
‘And yet I’m still trussed up like a criminal.’
His lips purse. ‘You’re right.’ He releases the handcuffs. Strength and circulation return almost immediately. I murmur my thanks and pull away from his grip then raise my eyes to his.
‘You’ve combined black and white magic.’
He bows his head. ‘I’d love to take credit for it but we have some very capable techs who did all the real work.’
‘Why?’
O’Connell laughs. ‘Why? Are you serious?’ He leans towards me, passion in his face. ‘Black and white witches have been at each other’s throats for hundreds of years. Thousands even. By bringing them together, I’ll stop all that.’
‘And double your sales overnight. If black witches buy white magic products and vice-versa…’
‘That was how I persuaded the board. But think about what will happen. A new age of magic. Not black, not white. Just combined power and genuine peace.’
‘You’re kidding yourself.’ My voice is flat. ‘You can’t wipe out generations of inbred mutual hatred just like that.’
‘Oh, I beg to differ, Ms Blackman. We’re already there.’
I snort. ‘You can’t even get witches to follow a simple no-kill order. The black witch who came after me first? He was one of your hybrids. He wanted to slice my throat because I’m a Blackman. Because his kind holds a grudge against my grandfather. He couldn’t let go of that.’
‘That’s an entirely different matter,’ O’Connell blusters.
‘Is it? Well, take the second witch then. The one who so deftly threw a shuriken into Frolic’s chest?’ I watch him flinch. ‘He might have the power of black and white magic but he’s still a white witch at heart. He made it clear he hates black witches and everything they stand for.’
He glares at me. ‘He won’t be bothering us again.’
‘Two of your freaky witches and neither of them is prepared to let go of the past. You’re not changing the world for the better, you’re making it more dangerous.’
‘There will always be non-believers,’ he hisses. ‘My Janus witches will prove you wrong.’
‘You had Samuel Lewis killed.’
‘Who?’
‘Did you know he had a wife and child at home? You hired him to steal Frolic’s damned feather and when he was arrested, you had him slaughtered in his own cell.’
‘Some casualties are to be expected.’
‘You’re despicable,’ I spit.
‘You drink blood to survive, Ms Blackman. Who is really despicable?’ His veneer of respectability is slipping.
‘The witches aren’t really the Janus, are they, Fingertip? You are.’
O’Connell’s face drops. ‘Get out.’
‘You faked your own death to join Magix. Let your wife believe you were a stone-cold corpse. That’s why you had such extensive files on her.’
‘Have you seen a picture of this Fingertip? I can assure you I look nothing like him.’
‘Your company has been developing glamour spells. I’m betting that underneath the skin you wear is a very different looking man. In fact that’s probably why everyone who works here looks human. It must be a fucking good spell.’ I lean my head towards him. ‘But tell me, why did you do it?’
He snarls, giving in to the truth. ‘We were never going to achieve anything with that shop! Here I can change the world.’
‘You ran your own wife out of business.’
‘She needed to get away from all that! All she cared about was making money. I thought she’d take a break if the shop shut. Think about the bigger picture. After things calmed down, I was going to talk to her…’
‘Too late.’ I keep my face expressionless. ‘She’s dead.’
‘That wasn’t supposed to happen.’
I shake my head. ‘You set the wheels in motion.’
‘Get out of here!’ He fumbles towards me, arms flailing. I spin him round to avoid being hit and grab both his wrists with one hand. With the other, I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the baggie with the blood-encrusted shuriken. It’s a simple matter to transfer it to O’Connell’s jacket without him noticing. I jerk him backwards. ‘Your hands might not be dirty, but you’re a murderer.’
‘You killed a witch.’
‘That was self-defence.’
‘To protect yourself. I’m going to pro
tect the world!’ he shouts.
‘No,’ I say sadly. ‘You’re not.’
I release him and walk away, not looking back. I’m sure he’ll be on the phone as soon as I exit the doors of Magix, sending his horde of hybrids after me. The problem for him is that I’ll be on the phone too. There’s a certain helpful policeman who may not be able to get enough evidence for Samuel Lewis’s murder, but who might find enough to put O’Connell away for Frolic’s.
I examine my conscience. I don’t feel the slightest guilt. O’Connell may have had genuine motives but he’s still a dirty bastard who deserves to spend the rest of his life behind bars. I’m hoping it’ll make the world he’s so keen to save a slightly safer place.
Epilogue
Stephen Templeton and I stand amongst the ruined remnants of his life. He picks up the smashed frame encasing the photograph of Dahlia, Arzo and himself and stares at it. ‘I don’t even remember this being taken,’ he says.
I watch him silently. I’m sure that if I asked Arzo if he recalled the shot, he could expand on it in great detail. Templeton reaches down and scoops up the larger shards of glass.
‘I suppose I should be careful not to cut myself,’ he jokes. ‘I wouldn’t want you to jump on me and drain me of my blood.’
‘You’re in no danger from me.’
‘Are you sure the other bloodguzzlers won’t come after me?’ He pulls at his collar. ‘I could hire a bodyguard maybe. Witness protection programme even.’
‘The police run witness protection. And you can’t tell them what’s happened. You can’t tell anyone what’s happened.’ I don’t change the tenor of my voice. ‘Things will go very badly if you do.’
He laughs nervously. ‘Is that a threat?’
‘No.’ I hold out my palm for the photo but he shakes his head.
‘I’d like to keep this. If you don’t mind,’ he says.
‘As you wish.’ I look around. ‘Will you stay here?’
‘In this house?’ He shudders. ‘No. There are too many shadows. Too many ghosts.’
‘She’s not dead, Stephen.’