The Sweet Scent of Blood

Pink and orange motes floated before my eyes. I pictured my kitchen, and the salt in its cardboard container. I started throwing the motes at the salt, splattering them like paint, focusing my will. C’mon ... come on ... It had to work. Focus, I told myself, chewing my lip as my stomach knotted ... There was a thud, and something stung against my legs. My eyes flew open.

The salt had arrived—but the container had split and the salt was spread like white sand across the blue- rubber floor. Still, I’d called it. I punched a fist in the air. One down, two to go.

I grabbed a large pinch of salt and held it to Finn’s mouth. ‘Open up,’ I told him gently, ‘it’ll help unstick the spell.’

He stuck his tongue out and I touched the salt to it. He shuddered and forced himself to swallow, pressing his lips tight together. I grimaced and hoped he wasn’t going to sick it up. I watched him for a moment, then gave him some more.

I stroked Finn’s arm and called the next thing I needed. My stash of liquorice torpedoes arrived without the plastic jar, raining down like enormous hundreds and thousands. I stuffed a handful in my mouth and sighed in relief as the sugar hit my system and made it easier to concentrate. Calling the vodka felt almost effortless after that. I even managed to land the bottle upright. I drank a scant mouthful, then gathered up more salt, poked it in the bottle and shook it up.

Finn watched me through half-closed eyes, a pinched, disgusted expression on his face.

I gave him a sympathetic look. ‘Think of it like a margarita without the lime.’

‘Hate margar—’ Another racking cough interrupted his complaint.

I ignored him and when it stopped, I tipped the bottle up and trickled the salty mixture into his mouth until it was gone.

The grey fog raged and boiled around Finn. It was making me queasy. What if I tried to take the spell and it didn’t work? I pressed my hands to my stomach, which felt like it was caught in a vice—Oh wait, I was still wearing the fucking corset! I yanked at the laces. Skin to skin was always better for magic anyway. I pulled the loosened corset down over my hips, taking the net skirt with it, and kicked the clothes away. The spell felt like greedy grabbing hands, wanting more, all the time. What if, rather than absorbing it, the spell consumed me instead?

‘I’m going to undo you, Finn.’ I clutched the silver keys, feeling them burn against my palm. ‘I don’t know what’ll happen when I call the spell.’

He moved his head slightly in agreement. Leaning over, I unlocked the shackles and pulled them apart, freeing him. I slung them out of the way. Finn groaned in pain and curled in on himself. For an instant I saw something black at the base of his spine. His tail? Then it was gone.

Moving carefully, I lay down behind him, gently spooning along his back. His heart beat fast and shallow against my breasts, the hair on his flanks was rough against my thighs, his shoulders clammy beneath my cheek. The smell of sour berries caught at the back of my throat and I swallowed back my tears.

This had to work.

I hugged him tight and called the magic.

The grey fog surged up and over me. I opened myself to it, inviting it in. It rushed through me, spiralling fast, whirling me into a vortex. I let go of Finn and rolled, over and over, spinning the grey with my body. Gold drops sparked, running like thin golden streams through the whirlpool, draining away at its centre. I poured more gold into the vortex and the streams turned to torrents. Gasping for breath, I stopped rolling, then threw myself into reverse, forcing the torrents to funnel up from where they flooded away. The whirlpool started to slow and the gold and grey bands coalesced and stretched into long sticky strands that set like a cage of cooling sugar ... and trapped the spell. I stopped rolling and lay there for a moment, my pulse speeding with anticipation and fear.

I shattered the cage.

The spell crumbled into dust that drifted sweet into the air and I floated on a golden haze. Tiny perfect black pearls of magic floated with me.

Chapter Forty-Six

‘Genny,’ Katie’s voice sounded urgent, ‘Gennny, pleeease wake up, you’ve got to wake up—’

Katie?

With the after-effects of the magic still wafting through my mind, I sat up, wobbled, squinted up at her. Mascara smudged across her cheeks, her hair hung in a messy ponytail, and her jeans and vest top were creased and dirty.

I frowned and rubbed my hands over my face.

Then I stared at the vampire gripping her arm. His own blond ponytail was much neater, his grin was full of fangs, and his frilly red shirt billowed in a nonexistent breeze. My heart tripped anxiously as I recognised him: the count, aka Red Poet, the leader of the fang-gang.

He looked at me. ‘Good, you’re awake. I am pleased it didn’t take you long to recover.’

‘You’re not the only one.’ I scrambled to my feet, my pulse thudding. ‘Only I have to admit to being disappointed that you didn’t get staked for real in the Théâtre du Grand- Guignol .’

‘Good,’ he laughed, ‘you have a sense of humour. Let’s see if you find this funny.’ He bent and kissed Katie on the forehead. She flinched and he laughed again. ‘Tell your friend what it is we want, child.’

‘I’m not a child,’ she sniffed.

Relief settled in me: she couldn’t be too badly hurt if she could still backchat him.

‘Talk, child.’ He shook her arm.

‘He wants you to be his Blood-Bond,’ she said, sneering up at him.

‘Let me guess.’ I bared my teeth at him. ‘Katie is my incentive? ’

‘Good, you are smiling.’ His grin widened. ‘I will enjoy spending eternity with you as my slave.’

‘Genny, don’t do it, you mus—’ Katie stopped as the blankness of a mind-lock crossed her face.

‘She really is the most annoying human child,’ he said. ‘She never closes her mouth. But as you can see, I have not hurt her. She is my little lottery ticket.’

I looked surprised. ‘You do the lottery?’

‘Of course! Unfortunately for me, in my younger days I was more interested in having fun than in salting away a fortune for my future.’ He sniffed disdainfully. ‘You don’t think I enjoy being staked, do you? The pay is good, but it takes me five humans to recover.’ He grinned again. ‘But now I will have you, a sidhe.’ He leered at me, running his gaze over my naked body. ‘And you will keep me warm at night, in more ways than one.’

Movement caught the corner of my eye.

I stuck my hands on my hips and took a deep breath, pushing my breasts out at him. ‘So we’re talking what, exactly? Sex, blood—and what else is part of this bargain?’

He wasn’t looking at my face any more. ‘That all sounds good.’

‘Uh-huh.’ I frowned, stroking my stomach. ‘I want to know what type of sex first.’

‘Sex is sex.’ He took a step nearer, pulling Katie with him as he started sniffing at me like a bloodhound.

‘Now that’s where you’re wrong.’ I trailed fingers over my breasts. ‘Are we talking with or without magic? What about partners? Is it going to be just me and you? Or are you into threesomes? Foursomes? Girl on girl, what?’ I turned sideways and run a hand down over my hip. ‘There’re all sorts of things to consider.’

He licked his lips, almost panting. ‘Yes. All of that.’

I waved at him, to get his attention back on my face. ‘And what about getting staked for a living, are you —?’

His eyes went wide. He let Katie go as he lurched forward. Looking down at himself he touched the spreading wet stain on his shirt and opened his mouth ... but no words came out.

Katie’s face lost its blank look and she stumbled, falling to her knees at my feet. She crawled behind me, shaking.