The Bitter Seed of Magic

complaining—is one of those cart-before-the-horse things. So: what’s the catch?’

‘Catch? There’s no catch, little cousin. All I want is the photo and that’s it. Good God, I’m not stupid, you know. The Autarch might have a few screws loose, but he’s easily distracted; it’s out of sight, out of mind with him. Malik, on the other hand, is like a bleeding elephant. He never forgets if you cross him, and he keeps coming after you until he’s managed to stamp you out completely. Look what he did to Elizabetta!’ He grabbed his head in both hands with a mock scream of horror. ‘Me, I’d prefer to keep my bonce on my shoulders where it belongs.’

I blinked. Personally I’d take Malik over the Autarch any day, but hey, he had a point with the head thing … and if all Mad Max truly wanted was a picture—

‘Fine, where’s the camera then?’

‘I bet you’ve got one on your phone, haven’t you?’ He smiled winningly and fluffed out his velvet cloak. ‘I’m a bit short on pockets in this get-up.’

Still suspicious about what he was up to, I pulled out my phone from my jacket pocket and warily held it out.

He took it and examined it as if it were diamond-studded. ‘Nice bit of kit! I didn’t think this model was out yet.’ His thumb moved over the small keyboard, almost faster than I could see. ‘I’ve been waiting to get a shot at one of these from a reviewer I know; she says it doesn’t live up to the hype.’ His brows lowered in concentration at the phone. ‘What do you think?’

‘It’s a phone. It does what phones do,’ I said, trying to calculate if I could make it past the dogs, most of whom were stretched out sleeping now, and out the door before—

‘Mind if I take a test pic of Dear Old Dad first?’ He looked up enquiringly.

‘Knock yourself out.’

He resumed fiddling with the phone, and I started slowly edging away from him and the staked vamp at my feet.

His hand shot out and clamped round my wrist. ‘Picture first, Cousin.’ He smiled; this time there was nothing winning about it.

‘Hurry up and take it then.’ I jerked my arm away, surprised when he let me go.

‘Come and cuddle up here.’ He patted his side, his bonhomie back, and indicated I should pose next to him, then held up the phone, camera lens pointed back at himself.

Feeling a bit like I had fallen down the rabbit hole, or was maybe climbing onto the hangman’s scaffold, I stepped over the body and angled in next to him.

He clapped his arm round my shoulders with a cheery laugh. I gritted my teeth.

‘Okay, now hold your hand up next to your face, the one with the member’s diamond on it.’ He looked up at the lights and moved us back fractionally. ‘Now look at the camera, and— One, two, big cheesy grin, smile!’ The phone clicked, and the flash blinded me.

I squeezed my eyes tight shut …

And when I opened them, the scene in the club’s foyer had changed.

Chapter Twenty-One

Mad Max, his dear-old-and-bloodily-staked Dad, and even the dogs were gone. The Coffin Club’s foyer was empty except for the sleeping goblin in the ticket booth. For a moment I wondered if I’d imagined it all, but my T- shirt was still damp with Fyodor’s blood, although someone had creepily cleaned my face and hands. Damn vamp tricks. Looked like the bastard had mind-locked me, something he shouldn’t have been able to do. And what the hell game was the mad vamp playing?

Not that I couldn’t hazard a guess: he wanted something from me, and while he was leery enough of Malik’s retribution not to want to hold me hostage, he wasn’t above using my possessions as a negotiating tool, since my backpack with its cargo of blood and my phone were also gone. Not to mention there was Darius, my pet-vamp himself, to worry about.

But before I could flush the mad-dog vamp out of wherever he’d disappeared to, a loud Big Ben-type chime rang, the club’s front doors swung open, and a crowd of people—humans—were laughing, whooping and racing through them.

Suddenly three of them split off and headed for me, their pale grey costumes streaking behind them like delicate wings blown by the wind. I recognised their black-and-white Pierrot faces: they were some of the Moth- girls from the blood-house where Darius used to live. I had a moment to brace myself before all three threw themselves at me, flattening me against the wall, thin arms wrapping around my neck and waist, hands clutching mine, and I was enveloped in a soft mass of rustling silk, satin and lace.

I breathed in the smell of rice-powder mixed with greasepaint as Viola smeared a waxy kiss on my cheek, caught the faint scent of liquorice-scented blood as Rissa’s long white hair trailed across my face, and felt the heat of the 3V infection pouring off Lucy’s arms around my neck. I laughed, squeezing hands and hugging them all, joining in their enthusiastic greeting—

The present disappeared as a memory speared into my heart.

She looked numbly down at her son where he lay cradled in her arms. The midwife had wrapped him in the blue blanket appliquéd with the red and white train. She’d bought it only two days ago, sure then that her superstitions were unfounded and nothing would go wrong. She touched his tiny, perfect hand … but unlike all those excited day-dreams she’d had, his little fingers didn’t curl round her own, but stayed limp and lifeless. That’s when she knew he wasn’t there, that he was gone.

I clutched Grace’s gold pentacle, and looked at the three Moth-girls. They were fanned round me in a semi- circle, almost like they were afraid I’d run away if they let me go. Behind them the crowd of excited, over-eager humans were snaking their way through the white zigzag ropes towards the coffin-shaped ticket booth. A large raven perched on top of the booth watching me. As I looked, it gave a loud caw, then flapped its wings and flew over the oblivious queue and out through the club’s open doors, disappearing into the night sky.

I turned back to the Moths.

I knew the heart-wrenching memory of the stillborn baby belonged to one of them, just as I knew it was the Morrígan’s bitter-tasting magic that had drawn the memory out for me to see. But I didn’t know which of the girls had lost their child, and none of the three appeared to know she’d shared the painful memory with me. I also didn’t know what, if anything, I was supposed to do about it.

‘You’re crying,’ Viola whispered as she slipped her thin arms back round my waist and squeezed. ‘Are you all right?’

I nodded, swiped at the tears and the sorrow from the memory dispelled.

‘Good,’ she said, then pouted prettily. ‘Wow, we haven’t seen you in ages and ages and ages. We’ve missed you so much, Genny.’

‘Yes, we’re so pleased to see you again,’ Lucy said, twining her fingers through mine.

‘’ave you come to see our Darius?’ Rissa swiped a tissue along my cheek. ‘Lipstick.’ She puckered up her own purple-painted mouth, then said, ‘It ’ain’t bin the same since ’e went and got the job ’ere and you not come any more.’

I smiled apologetically, realising I’d missed them too. ‘Sorry, girls. I’ve been coming here, and without Darius, well, you know …’ I trailed off, and we all stood and looked at each other awkwardly. I hadn’t really thought they’d want me visiting—after all, they’d been Darius’ little volunteer harem, as well as his breakfast, lunch and dinner most nights. And while we’d all had fun when I was there, I’d sort-of thought it was more because they’d put up with me as Darius’ blood benefactor than anything more.

‘Yeah, well, it’s not the same without him there, but you still could’ve come, you know.’ Viola squeezed my waist again. ‘We really, really do miss you.’

‘Right,’ I managed to say past the tightness in my throat. Tears pricked my eyes and I blinked them away. ‘Well, I really miss you all too.’ I smiled. ‘So I’ll come and see you on your next night off, okay?’