The Bitter Seed of Magic

swished out over the bronze pool and a gaping mouth with sharp teeth similar to Ricou’s own snapped at it. The mouth belonged to a five-foot-long eel thicker than my arm, twisting sinuously round and round in the shallow water. ‘She’s female.’ Ricou made a clicking sound as he laughed. ‘I’ve checked, so watch your fingers.’ He handed me a piece of rice paper. ‘Here’s the glyph to close the circle, luv.’ He sniffed the air. ‘You’ve got about five minutes until sunset now. Good luck.’

‘Thanks, Ricou,’ I said, then I undid Grace’s pentacle from round my neck—I didn’t want to lose it in Between—and handed it him along with my jacket. ‘Can you give these to Sylvia to look after for me?’

‘Sure, luv.’ He took them, hooking the pentacle carefully over a claw, then he hopped out of the circle of weapons and joined Sylvia on her seat.

Left alone in the circle, I crunched on a couple of liquorice torpedoes and looked round. I’d gained an audience while we’d been talking and the garden was now full. There were a dozen witches, their dark WPC uniforms all merging together. Constables Lamber and Taegrin had been joined by four other trolls. Hugh was standing with Malik, the pair of them almost hidden under the shelter of the memorial building, and sitting next to them was a large silvery-grey Irish wolfhound; looked like Mad Max had turned up in his doggy persona. Hopefully Hugh would get some useful info out of him.

And all of them were here to see the show. Lucky me.

Still, once the circle went up, the show would be pretty much over from their point of view, since they’d stay in this world while the circle, with me in it, would be in Between—if I cast it right, of course—apparently neutral ground was needed when calling on a goddess.

I wiped my suddenly sweaty hands down my jeans, decided not to send any prayers in case the wrong god heard me, and picked up the silver knife. It burned against my fingers. I walked to the edge of the circle. Holding the rice paper glyph in my left palm, I took a deep breath, focused, and sliced the knife through it and my flesh. Pain hit a second later and I stifled a gasp. Then my blood welled, bright and viscous, and the scent of honey and copper and magic filled the air. Hunger—not mine—cramped my stomach, nearly doubling me over, a hot, spiced wind blew my hair back from my face, and I looked around to find Malik, now standing inches from me on the outside of the circle, his hands clenched at his sides.

‘Set the circle quickly, Genevieve.’ His eyes were dark, bottomless holes. I glimpsed all four of his fangs as he spoke. ‘The scent of your blood is … tempting.’

Tempting? A perverse moment of retaliation sparked in me.

I held his gaze, taunting him as I extended my hand and let the blood fall. I felt, rather than saw, the first drop splash on an iron axe-head. It sizzled. His nostrils flared. The second drop hit the tip of the broadsword touching the axe. The tendons in his neck stood out with effort. Time slowed as the third drop splattered on to the black-plumed helmet eating the sword. He snarled and leaped—

The magic ripped out of me and I fell to my knees, screaming as it rushed round the weapons like wildfire and closed the circle. Above me rose a translucent dome of swirling, liquid blood.

I lay there getting my breath back, my eyes closed. Hell, I’d never felt a circle, not even a blood one, close like that before. But then, I’d never closed a circle into Between before. When I thought my legs would hold me, I struggled up to my feet. Worryingly, I could still see the garden and its occupants. Malik now stood a couple of feet back, watching with his usual enigmatic expression, and I wondered if I’d imagined him leaping for me. But the silvery-grey Irish wolfhound was standing in front of him, and the dog’s disconcertingly blue eyes twinkled at me as he wagged his long upright tail. His mouth was clamped round Malik’s wrist.

Behind them both was Hugh, the disapproving crevices that etched his face clearly saying, ‘Goading vampires is juvenile and stupid and wasting time, Genny.’

And satisfying, I added silently. But Hugh was right. I sighed, and gave him an apologetic shrug—

Only he wasn’t there to see it.

The garden had disappeared. Outside the dome was … emptiness: not fog, not sky, nor space or anything, just rolling emptiness.

Horror crawled down my spine.

I turned my back on it, strode back to the bronze pool and dropped to my knees. Before I could give myself time to think, I thrust my bleeding hand and Aoife’s clothes into the water.

‘By my blood, and the blood of her child, in this sacred place of war and death, I call upon the Morrígan,’ I shouted. ‘Hear me, Morrígan, and answer my call.’

Chapter Forty-Five

The water bubbled, the bronze beneath it turning it into molten gold. The eel reared up, and up, its body long and sinuous, then it twisted down and round and snapped sharp teeth in my face. Adrenalin-laced fear shot through me, but I forced myself not to move, to keep my hands in the water. Magic shivered over the eel’s skin, turning it a pale, luminous green. Its bald head flared, eyes growing large and glinting acid-yellow, skin splitting into holes where her nostrils should be, her slash of a mouth plumping until her lips puckered into a blood-filled pout. Below the face, bumps sprouted into rounded shoulders, extended into long, lithe arms and ended in elegant hands with thin, claw-tipped fingers that clutched and grasped at the air. Under the arms, the eel’s body thickened, morphing into a slender torso with high, full breasts, and then swept down to a narrow waist which tapered into the eel’s dark writhing body. The thin gold chain of tinkling keys was fastened around her left wrist and twisted tightly round her human-shaped half, continuing round the eel’s like a golden vine winding around a willowy tree until it disappeared into the bubbling golden water below.

‘Little sidhe,’ she said huskily, looking down at me and smiling. The smile was a predatory pucker of her blood-plumped lips that framed her one protruding tooth. ‘I have long waited for your call. I do not appreciate those who are tardy, or casual with my tasks. It will cost you dear.’

My stomach tied itself in knots. Damn goddesses and their timekeeping—just because time travels differently in the Fair Lands and she’d spent however many days, weeks or years waiting, it didn’t mean it was my fault. Not to mention that tasks was taking it a bit far. ‘You visited me yesterday, Morrígan.’ I lifted my chin. ‘I’d hardly call that a long time.’

Her forked tongue flicked out, swiping across my mouth. I tensed, managing not to flinch. ‘You taste of truth,’ she murmured, then she clasped my face, her clawed fingers digging sharp into my skull. ‘I will excuse you this transgression,’ and she lowered her mouth to mine, pressing a hard kiss against my lips. ‘But I fear others will not be as forgiving as I.’ She jerked the gold chain up.

The water boiled up like a well-spring, crashing over me. The force knocked me flying and I landed flat on my back. I swiped my wet hair out of my face in time to see the sleek green-black shape of the kelpie horse erupt out of the pool. He reared up above me, front legs flailing in anger, and I froze, not daring to move as he dropped back to all fours, front hooves thudding to the ground inches from my shoulders. He tossed his head, his tangled, beaded mane spraying water droplets in high arcs, then pushed his soft muzzle into my face and snorted. Hot whisky-peat breath seared my cheeks.

‘Hello, Tavish,’ I murmured, breathing in his scent, and before I could stop it, his magic. A glorious liquid languor spread through my body, drawing an expectant sigh from my mouth, washing all thoughts but him from my mind and raising my own Glamour. Honeysuckle fragranced the air, my skin glowed gold, and my magic spilled out and rippled over the kelpie horse like a stream in full flow—

And Tavish in his human form was on his hands and knees above me. He stared down at me, his silver- coloured eyes swirling, his bead-tipped dreads hanging like a curtain around our faces, hiding us from view.

‘Hello, doll,’ he said quietly. He grinned, his sharp-pointed teeth white against his green-black skin. ‘’Tis guid to see you, though you took your ain sweet time coming for me. The Morrígan’s been riding me ragged.’

I grinned back, struck by his Charm, and his magic eddied inside me, sending longing swimming through my veins. I reached up and traced the sharp, angular planes of his alluring face, his long, straight nose, his pointed