The Sweet Scent of Blood

We were marooned in an empty acre of grey flagstoned floor, lit by the red glare of a fire I couldn’t see. My father, tall and blond and aristocratic, was dressed in his special black suit with the satin lining, the one that matched Matilde’s sapphire-blue eyes.

His guest, a stranger to me, stood opposite. The firelight left him alone, as if not wanting to encroach the darkness that surrounded him. I gazed at him, curious to see this new vampire visitor, but his face was hidden by shadows that fell from nowhere.

Matilde gently pushed me forward until I stood between the two vampires.

The stranger’s low voice came out of the darkness. ‘Is this the child, Alexandre?’

A shiver ran down my spine.

‘Greet our guest, Genevieve.’ My father’s hand pressed down on my shoulder.

I stuck out my black patent toe, clutched the slippery green satin of my dress and bent my knee in a trembling curtsey.

Cold fingers gripped my chin, lifting my face. ‘The eyes are truly sidhe fae,’ he murmured.

I stared up, but still couldn’t see him through the darkness.

He turned my face from side to side. ‘Her profile certainly has a look of you about her, Alexandre.’

‘She is my daughter.’ My father sounded unexpectedly anxious. ‘This was reported to your Master at her birth.’

‘An achievement indeed.’ The stranger was faintly mocking as he released me.

Matilde swept her arm around me, holding me close and I looked up at her. She was staring at my father’s guest, and her eyes were wide and scared.

Why was she frightened? Why was my father not happy? My heart pitter-pattered in my chest, and all three vampires turned their attention to me.

‘Control yourself, Genevieve.’ There was an edge of fear in my father’s voice I’d never heard before.

I bit down on my lip, closed my eyes and counted under my breath, ‘One elephant ... two elephants ... three elephants ...’ My pulse started to slow.

‘Impressive in one so young.’ The stranger clapped, the sharp noise interrupting my counting.

‘... five elephants ...’ I opened one eye and glared up at him.

‘You have taught her the old ways well.’

‘... seven elephants ...’

‘She is satisfactory.’ The shadows shifted and then settled. ‘I am sure my Master will be pleased.’

Matilde’s hold on me relaxed.

‘... ten elephants ...’

‘All that is left is to confirm the contract. I am to take a sample.’

‘Niet.’ Matilde spat out the word.

My father hissed, ‘It is but a taste, Matilde; no harm will come to the child.’

‘... thirteen elephants ...’

Her fingers dug into my arm, but after a moment she acquiesced and let me go.

‘My apologies.’ My father offered the stranger a low bow. ‘You have the knife?’

‘... f—fifteen elephants ...’

The man knelt on one knee and held up a thin blade. ‘Forged by the northern dwarves from cold iron and silver,’ he said, as the knife gleamed red in the firelight. ‘Tempered in dragon’s breath. The handle is carved from a unicorn’s horn.’ Pale light bled from between his fingers. ‘And set with a dragon’s tear.’ An oval of clear amber winked against his palm.

‘... s—seventeen elephants ...’

A cold hand circled my left wrist and my arm went numb.

‘... e—eighteen ...’

The blade traced an icy-hot slash down my inner arm.

‘... n—n—nineteen ...’

Blood ran in thin rivulets to pool on the flagstone floor.

‘Stop him, Alexandre.’ Matilde’s voice was shrill. ‘He’s wasting it.’

I looked up at the stranger and the shadows fled from his face. He reversed the knife, placed its handle in my palm and clasped his hands round mine to hold it straight and true. His obsidian eyes stared into mine as he pulled on my arms and the thin silver blade stabbed into his chest and plunged into his heart.

‘... t—t—twenty ...’

* * *

Malik stood as he had in the alley, arms outstretched, the pearl-handled knife shining pale against the blackness of his body.

‘Genevieve.’ Sorrow lanced in his voice. ‘See what you have done.’

Matilde and my father stood on either side of Malik, mirroring his stance as blood ran from the gaping wounds in their own chests.

A sharp pain—grief—struck my own heart. I whispered their names.

‘Genevieve . . .’ Their voices echoed like ghosts in my mind.

Chapter Nineteen

I woke with a start to find myself tucked up in bed with the sheet pulled up to my chin. Then I realised I wasn’t alone, that there was someone else in my bedroom—and fear slammed into me. I froze, squeezing my eyes tight shut and trying not to breathe.

‘I can tell you’re awake, Gen,’ Finn’s voice held a trace of anger, ‘so don’t try pretending you’re not.’

The fear slipped away. Taking a shallow breath, I pulled the sheet over my head. ‘Huh. He thinks he’s auditioning for the part of Big Bad Wolf,’ I muttered.

‘Try the Big Bad Boss.’

Not yet you aren’t, Finn. But I didn’t say it, deciding maybe I didn’t want to antagonise him, at least not until I’d found out what he was doing here, and what sort of trouble I was in.

I peered from under the sheet and looked at my clock: I’d been asleep for almost five hours, double the time it usually took to recover after one of my Sucker Town outings. Still, at least I felt so much better and with the amount of venom I’d taken, the feel-good factor might even last the week—if I could ignore the dream-shadows stalking the outskirts of my mind. I stretched and sighed. I was clean, obviously thanks to Finn. And naked—

I rolled over and stared at him; he was sitting on the floor, arms loosely crossed over his chest and legs stretched out in front. His head was tilted back against the wall, his horns their usual size, and I wondered if I’d imagined them being taller the night before when we’d kiss—Damn, I’d promised myself I wasn’t going there. A take-away Rosy Lee Café cup sat beside him and the faint smell of coffee lingered in the air. He looked like he’d been there a while.

I sat up, wrapping the sheet round me, and hugged my knees. ‘Why the morning call, Boss?’ I asked, my tone as neutral as I could make it. ‘I’m not due at work for a couple of hours yet.’

His moss-green eyes briefly met mine and then he looked down, appearing to find the pile of shoes and boots under my bed engrossing. ‘I came round about the brownie magic problem,’ he said finally, uncrossing his arms and letting his hands fall into his lap. ‘I think there’s a way you could use the spells up.’

I stared at him, incredulous. Was he just going to ignore how he’d found me, and how I’d got that way? Not that I wouldn’t be just as happy not explaining, but somehow I didn’t think it was going to be that easy.

‘The brownie magic?’ I asked in the same neutral tone.

‘Yes,’ he said, a muscle twitching along his jaw, ‘it’s how they teach the baby witches sometimes.’

Right! So now I’m reduced to nursery games.

‘It’s not hard.’ His hands curled into fists, belying the calmness in his voice. ‘Picture something small, something nearby, and cover it in magic. Then call whatever it is to your hand as you