The Sweet Scent of Blood

Bobby’s best interests at heart. The one I’ve hired hasn’t dealt with vamps before. Ms Taylor, we need as much help as we can get.’

I didn’t disagree, but I didn’t want to get involved and so far I’d heard nothing that would make me. ‘That still doesn’t tell me why you think I can help you?’

Alan dropped his gaze to the table. ‘My wife died six years ago of a rare blood disease.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I offered inadequate sympathy.

‘Bobby was a teenager when she died, and he went through a rough patch afterwards.’ He looked up. ‘Now, Bobby is—was—training to be a doctor. He thought if he had enough time he could help find a cure, so he accepted the Gift three years ago.’ His fingers clamped around the pepper pot. ‘I might not agree with his lifestyle choice, Ms Taylor, but he is still my son. He’s the only family I have left.’

I looked at him for a moment, then said softly, ‘Mr Hinkley—Alan—I’m sorry, but I really can’t help you. Even if another vamp did kill Melissa ... I find spells, then break or neutralise them. That’s all I do.’ I didn’t like to say but there is nothing magical about a vampire sucking you to death.

He rolled the pepper pot on its edge. ‘That’s it, though: we want you to look at Melissa and check for magic. The coroner says that the evidence points to just one vampire partner, Bobby, but we think that the other vamp has covered up his bites with a spell.’

Straws and grasping came to mind.

He placed the pepper pot back next to the salt. ‘Not only that, you work for the Human, Other and Preternatural Ethics Society at their vampire clinic—’

I interrupted him. ‘The clinic’s not just for vampire victims. HOPE treats all types of magical attacks.’

‘Yes, but you’re used to seeing vampire bites, more than the coroner.’

Except the victims I saw were usually still alive.

Alan twirled the vinegar bottle. ‘We thought that once you’ve uncovered the bite, you might be able to identify the other vampire.’

My stomach tightened into a hard knot. ‘Mr Hinkley, even if there is another bite hidden by magic, and even if I managed to find it, there is no way I could pinpoint the biter. I doubt even the coroner could do it, not without an actual sample bite to compare it against. And even then, vamp DNA only points to the bloodline, not the individual vampire.’

He looked straight at me. ‘But we thought you could do it with magic.’

My pulse sped up. I didn’t like where he was heading: vampires thinking I could use magic to identify their bites? That along with everything else would not be beneficial for my health. ‘Then you thought wrong, Mr Hinkley. I can’t use magic like that, and I doubt that it’s even possible.’

His face fell. Then he tapped his thumbnail against the vinegar bottle, making a tiny tinkling sound, and his mouth twisted into a hard line. ‘I can pay you whatever you want.’

I sighed. Not that I couldn’t do with the money, but the answer was still no, even with his association to Stella. She might have pointed him in my direction, but Stella wasn’t about to let one of her employees work for a vampire, even once removed. The witches and vamps ‘live-and-let-live’ thing started in the fifteenth century—it was one of the more gruesome and sensational parts of history lessons, what with the witch hunts, the inquisition and everything—and anyone who’d been to school could’ve told Alan Hinkley I wasn’t about to say yes to his job. So why was he being so persistent? And why hadn’t Stella come with him? Something about that didn’t add up. Unless she was leaving it to me to turn him down just so she wasn’t made out to be the wicked witch in this sad little scenario. If that was the case, Stella was going to find out I didn’t appreciate being cast as the bad-tempered faerie, and soon.

‘It’s not about money,’ I said slowly. ‘I don’t want any involvement with the vampires. It’s one of the main reasons I work for Spellcrackers.com, so I don’t have to. Vamps don’t give the fae the same respect as they do humans.’

‘I’d heard that, but I wanted to talk to you anyway. I’m sure it wouldn’t cause you a problem just to look, Ms Taylor. It wouldn’t take long.’

I kept my eyes on his, a suspicion forming in my mind. ‘What happens if I say no?’

His forehead creased in puzzlement. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘C’mon, Alan: you’ve waited all day so you can speak to me away from the office. You persuade my boss to let you talk to me, but you don’t want to put any pressure on me by having her here while we chat. We’ve been down the sympathy route.’ I leaned forward, took the vinegar bottle from his fingers and lowered my voice. ‘Your only son, a vampire, is accused of murder. If he’s found guilty, he’s not going to sit in jail for the next twenty-odd years. They’ll send him to the guillotine, burn his remains and scatter them over running water.’ I slammed the vinegar bottle down on the table. ‘Why don’t you tell me the real reason you think I’m going to help you?’

He flinched and sat back, crossing his arms. ‘I’m not the bad guy here, Ms Taylor. I’m just trying to save my son.’

I didn’t bother to say anything, just waited for the rest of it.

‘Okay,’ Alan’s shoulders hunched, ‘Bobby said to give you a message, but only if you said no. He wouldn’t tell me what it meant. He said it was better if I didn’t know.’ Desperation filled his eyes as he went through some internal struggle, then he spoke again, his voice hard and flat. ‘My son wouldn’t do anything wrong.’

‘Then you’d better give me the message, since I’m supposed to be the one that understands it.’

He glanced round the café, but it was still empty. Even Katie hadn’t returned with his coffee yet.

‘Siobhan’s brother sends his regards,’ he said quietly.

Adrenalin rushed through me. The hairs on my arms lifted.

Siobhan’s brother.

Fuck, I should’ve known. What was the bastard playing at this time? Alan was watching me, a horrified expression on his face. ‘It is blackmail,’ he murmured, almost to himself. ‘Bloody hell, what a mess—’

I swallowed, trying to ease the tension in my jaw. ‘No, it’s not blackmail. Not exactly.’

It might not be blackmail, but I still didn’t have a choice. I’d made a bargain, and the fae don’t make or break bargains lightly; the magic demands too great a price. But it had never entered my mind that this particular debt would be called in for a vampire, rather than one of their victims.

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 much more 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 request really 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.