The Sweet Scent of Blood

sadness settled on his face. ‘Look, there’s no other way to say this, but I know you’re suffering from salaich sìol.’

I froze, a tight band constricting my heart. He knew I’d got 3V—salaich sìol, as the older fae name it ... I closed my eyes, pulling my hand away from his and dropping my head to my knees. I didn’t want to look at him. I didn’t want him to see me. He kept on talking; his words washing over me like a gentle river, then fading away as a dark stream of pain and memory rushed into my mind.

‘I shall not allow her to enter sanctuary, troll.’ Soft sibilant sounds echoed in her voice as a rough palm touched my forehead. ‘The salaich sìol in her blood iss deeply embedded; it hass been there too long.’

‘But she’s fae, and just a child.’ Hugh’s words rumbled through me as I lay half-conscious in his arms. ‘The human tried to gut her like a fish; surely you won’t refuse her aid for her injuries. Does your vow not —?’

‘She iss ...’ for a moment doubt resonated in her voice, then she carried on firmly, ‘she may be sidhe, troll. But she doess not belong here in sanctuary, not with the vampiress’ blood-taint in her. There are the lesser fae to be considered; it would be too dangerouss—’

The rest of her words were lost as the pain rolled over me and I slipped back into the darkness.

‘... just because the suckers can’t trick you or mind-lock you,’ Finn’s quiet concern started to penetrate my mind, ‘that doesn’t mean you can pick and choose amongst them. I’ve seen before how venom addiction affects the fae.’

I tried to swallow past the ache in my throat. It didn’t matter what he was saying; all that mattered was that he knew. The rest was pointless. It was over, everything was finished.

‘Gen, it affects your magic too.’ He stroked a gentle hand over my hair. ‘Think about it, you can’t do a simple casting, even though you can absorb spells that would knock out a fae five times your age. And then there’s your Glamour. Some days it’s as though there’s no magic left in you, and others you almost take me under. It’s been hard to resist this last couple of months.’

Briefly the scent of warm berries curled around me and I took a deeper breath, trying to anchor it in my memory, but then it was gone.

‘I know you noticed it yourself,’ his voice was still quiet, but he was speaking faster, sounding anxious, worried. ‘Every time we got close my magic responded to yours. It was confusing, until I realised you weren’t consciously using your Glamour to entice—’

A loud bang on my front door interrupted him.

‘Hell’s thorns, I forgot—’ He jumped up. ‘I phoned the Rosy Lee while you were getting dressed.’

My mind was numb, empty. I stayed where I was, my head resting on my knees, not even trying to work out what to do, not caring. Out in my lounge, voices rose and fell, but the words made no sense. The breeze brought the scents of lavender and lemon balm through the window behind me. They eddied around my shoulders with a consoling touch and a tendril of soft multi-coloured light unfurled inside me. The brownie’s magic bloomed into gentle, comforting warmth that soothed and slowly eased away the darkness in my mind.

I sighed and lifted my head, rubbing away the dampness in my eyes, my conscience pricking at me. Never mind anything else; there was still something I needed to finish. I looked at my alarm clock. And I needed to do it soon.

The bedroom door opened and I looked up as Finn stood there, a serious expression on his face.

Next to him stood Detective Inspector Helen Crane. Hugh loomed behind them.

The police had come to call.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Detective Inspector Crane stood in front of my window. The afternoon sun cut through behind her, slicing to either side of her black-suited-figure, making it impossible to decipher her expression. Somehow I didn’t think she’d stood there by chance.

‘Ms Taylor,’ she began, her voice almost without inflection, ‘can you tell me your whereabouts at eleven-thirty p.m. last night?’

The question was expected—no way had I thought this a social visit—but if she was here about the headless bodies, the time was all wrong. I took a moment to think exactly where I’d been, and how much trouble the truth might cause me, but I was my father’s daughter, and I was sidhe. Neither gave me the option of straight-out lying.

Finn sprang up to sit on my kitchen counter, the movement catching my eye. A half-smile wreathed his mouth, as though he were completely unconcerned, but under his shirt the muscles across his shoulders and neck were tight with tension. It didn’t take much to realise the strained atmosphere had more to do with the relationship between Finn and Detective Inspector Helen Crane—whatever that was—and the fact she’d found Finn here with me than any official police business.

I frowned at the inspector. ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘Just answer the question, Genny,’ Hugh rumbled. I looked over at him. He had folded himself down to sit Indian-style on my rug—I appreciated his attempt to look less imposing—but when you’re a seven-foot-tall troll, not even sitting can manage that. His notepad was carefully balanced on his knee and he gripped one of his over-large pens between his fingers.

If I was going to have this many visitors maybe I ought to think about getting some furniture—nah, it probably wasn’t worth it. I didn’t want to send out the wrong impression. I was getting enough unwanted guests as it was.

A smothered cough drew my attention to the other uninvited occupant of my lounge: the ever-charming Constable Curly-hair stood to attention by my front door, her eyes flicking between me and Hugh, a happy little smirk wreathing her plump face. She looked to be the only person here enjoying herself.

‘Ms Taylor?’ The inspector clasped her hands and her rings chinked as if advertising her impatience.

Shrugging, I stuck my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. ‘At half-past-eleven I was in a black hackney cab. I’ve no idea what his licence number was, but his CCTV was running, I remember seeing the red light blinking.’ I rocked back on my heels. ‘’Course, if I’d known you were interested, I’d have made a note of it.’

Hugh rumbled a warning at my tone, and wrote something down.

‘Where were you going?’

I sighed. She had to know the answer to that one. ‘I had an appointment with my client, Alan Hinkley. He’d arranged for me to see Melissa Bank’s body, with you.’

Her lips thinned. ‘Only you never arrived at the police station. Why was that, Ms Taylor?’

Let me think. Oh yeah, I ran into a bit of trouble.

A trickle of sweat ran down my back, but I kept my voice level. ‘Hinkley didn’t turn up for our meeting.’

‘Did you not think that strange? Or maybe consider telephoning him to find out why?’

‘I would have, but I’d left my phone somewhere, and I didn’t know his number.’ And don’t worry, I added silently, he’s on my to-do list—he and whoever it was sent the revenants in his place. ‘I’d been planning to contact him today.’

‘That won’t be possible,’ she said. ‘Alan Hinkley was attacked last night.’

Shock jolted through me and I crossed my arms over the sudden cold feeling in my stomach. ‘Is he all right? What happened? ’

‘Mr Hinkley is in a coma.’ She twisted the large diamond ring on her finger. ‘His solicitor and a goblin guard were attacked at the same time. The solicitor is in intensive care and the goblin is dead.’

So that’s where the revenants had got the bat. Alan must have been first on their list. Someone was obviously serious about stopping me from seeing Melissa’s body, but if it was Declan— who still looked like the only candidate—Alan being attacked made even less sense.

‘Genny,’ Hugh broke into my thoughts, ‘we need to know the details of the taxi journey to confirm your statement.’