The Cold Kiss of Death

‘Hello, Gwen, my dear,’ he said, this time flashing fangs as he smiled. ‘I am so delighted to meet up with you again. I was devastated after we missed each other last year—as I am sure that you must have been. It has been such an age since we last conversed, has it not?’ He snapped his fingers and Joseph’s ghost appeared, his owl-like eyes blinking behind his glasses. ‘And here is your charming son, Joseph. You have kept him out of the limelight, but I must say, I am overjoyed to make his acquaintance at last.’

Then he opened his mouth ...

I blinked—

... and they were both gone.

The Earl was now looking down at Tavish. The tranqed kelpie slept on peacefully, his gills flaring with each breath he took, one hand outstretched as if pointing towards Bobby and Rosa. I’d seen him sleep like that, nestled into the mud and sand of the riverbed.

‘A soul-taster, no less.’ The Earl smiled merrily at me. ‘My, my, there really is an abundance of riches here, is there not, my dear? The gathering of shades and souls out there—’ he waved a limp hand towards the open doorway—‘four vampires, three tasty little humans, two necromancers, a soul-taster, and a long-lost sorcerer.’ He almost sang the list, making it sound like a cheerful little Christmas carol.

Suddenly he was standing next to me.

I swallowed again, my mouth dry as dust, my throat still painful.

‘Then of course, there is you,’ he said softly. ‘But I fear we are still missing someone.’ He circled behind me, trailing a fingertip across the back of my neck. I froze, my heart stuttering in sudden terror. The snakes woke up, slithering and shivering under my skin. ‘My, you have been enterprising,’ he went on, still speaking softly. ‘It has been a long time since a sidhe has fully consumed a soul, and I do not believe one has ever consumed a soul belonging to a sorcerer—a soul that has already been marked as mine.’

‘What do you want?’ I asked, my voice harsh.

‘What do I want?’ As he leaned in to whisper in my ear a musty sulphur stench seared along my cheek. ‘I want an avatar, my dear, someone to do my business in this mortal world, someone whose body is more resilient than a human’s, someone whose body will not grow old ... Someone who will always be here for me.’

‘I am not that someone,’ I said, clenching my hands to stop from screaming.

‘No?’ He sounded thoughtful. ‘Then choose one, Genevieve.’

‘Choose one what?’

‘A soul, of course.’ He stepped back and spread his arms wide. ‘There are more than enough on offer.’

‘No.’

‘Well then, I shall take them all.’

‘W—ait a b—leedin’ minute ’ere,’ stuttered Moth-girl, stumbling to her feet, her dress fluttering like frightened wings. ‘If she ain’t gonna choose, then I get to. You c’n take me.’

‘Shut up, Moth—Sharon,’ I snapped.

‘No, I knows ’ow this works,’ she hissed. ‘If I’m willin’ to sacrifice, then he don’t get t’take any of ’em ovvers. Only fing is—’ Her voice cracked and she stopped for a moment, then went on, ‘You’ve gotta promise to look after my Daryl—’e’s smart enuff, but ’e’s a bit soft, see.’

‘All terribly commendable, I must say.’ The Earl gave her an amused, patronising smile. He leaned down to her and whispered, ‘So you’re willing to spend eternity suffering in the fiery pits of Hell to save your friends, are you?’

She gulped. ‘It ain’t a real pit, is it?’ she whispered back. ‘Me Gran allays said as ’ow it’s jus’ the vicar’s make-believe so’s we’d be good.’

‘Hell is what you make it,’ he said solemnly, then as he straightened, he chuckled. ‘Or maybe Hell is what I make it. But unfortunately, my dear’—he touched her forehead with his finger—‘your basic information is wrong. You see, the willing sacrifice only works when you are dealing with gods, and I, luckily, am not a god, but a demon, and that whole righteous, holier-than-thou martyrdom that the willing have just takes all the profit out of the job. And thus that particular rule does not apply to me.’

‘Bleedin’ ’ell,’ Moth-girl cried, ‘so what’s the point in ’er choosin’?’

‘Trick or treat, Sharon,’ I murmured, bending down to pick up the ghost knife, then walking slowly to stand next to my body, still going over the flimsy plan in my head. Nerves twisted in my stomach; I kept expecting him to stop me—then I decided he was probably arrogant enough to let me try whatever it was I was going to do, since I couldn’t possibly win against him.

I really hoped he was wrong.

‘He wants me to think that I can save the rest by choosing just one,’ I carried on. ‘That’s the treat—but the trick is: it’s actually the other way round. Only the one I choose will live, so long as I do what he wants, of course. Isn’t that right, demon?’

‘It appears the joke is against me, my dear,’ the Earl sighed. ‘I was so looking forward to that part of the proceedings. So now I believe I will rescind my offer of a boon.’

‘’E can’t do that, can ’e?’ Moth-girl cried, frantic.

I looked at the wall behind Rosa and Bobby. The spells caught there glowed like pinholes of light against the dark stone, their magics small and insubstantial. Was it going to be enough? Not that it made much difference; it was the only option I had. It either worked or it didn’t.

‘I’m a demon, my dear.’ He shot his cuffs and smoothed the lapels of his jacket. ‘There is no blessed blood and bone to curtail me, it is All Hallows’ Eve, and so, I am delighted to say, I can take any soul not already claimed by another.’

‘Wot, even them’s not dead yet?’

I focused on the heart of all those tiny spells, concentrating my will.

‘Well, perhaps not technically,’ he said, smiling, flashing fang, ‘but life—human life particularly—is such a transient part of our existence.’ He stood in front of Grace and brushed his knuckles gently down her cheek, then hooked his finger into her scrubs. ‘This one is the only soul here barred to me.’ He pulled out a gold chain; a small pentacle glinted on the end of it. ‘But then again,’ he smiled cheerfully, ‘I can still have fun dismembering her along with all the rest of you.’

I cracked the magic.

The wall exploded inwards, throwing brick and rubble across the room, and a torrent of murky water gushed through a hole the size of a drain cover, sweeping all before it.

The Thames had come to join us.

Tavish and the vamps would be okay; they could survive under water, and so could the souls and shades, since they were already dead. It was the three humans I feared for most; I prayed Grace, Moth-girl and the florist’s lad could all swim better than me.

Within seconds the water was swirling around my knees, then it was up to my thighs. I turned to face the Earl, my heart pounding with fear and hope.

He stood in the gushing torrent, the faintly amused smile still on his face, as if the water was nothing more than a childish trick I’d played on him.

Fuck, this so had to work.

‘Demon,’ I shouted over the thundering waves, ‘under River Lore, all souls here belong to the kelpie, and so I claim.’

His face shifted, his eyes blazing into burning red holes, his mouth stretching into the blackness of the abyss, the water bubbling and boiling into steam around him as he advanced towards me. I grabbed the soul-bonder knife in my other hand and, praying to whatever gods might be listening, waited until he was close enough, then stabbed both blades up and into his chest.

The River Thames closed over my head.

Epilogue

I woke to a sky that glittered and twinkled with rainbow-coloured lights, only this time it wasn’t an angel that peered down at me out of the mist, but something else, something oddly smooth and