Back at the bus stop I took the time to check my phone. I'd delivered the best bread and honey the Co-op could provide into the fairy ring, and now there was a message with a thumbs-up and an extreme close up of a boggart's face. How they did that without a phone of their own I don't know. Probably best not to think about it.
There were a few messages on the Whatsapp group, most importantly Topher confirming that he hadn't been eaten by werewolves, although in slightly more guarded language. I've told them they don't need to worry what they say in the Mitchester Arms RPG Club group chat, but I guess we're all still getting used to that. Fiona had a lead on what was going on with the licensing situation, so I let them know I'd dealt with the fairy ring problem and would join them there.
There turned out to be Holly Court, one of those hideous brutalist flatblocks that seem to have grown on this city like a rash. I was the last to arrive, and explained that I'd made a deal with three boggarts. They were sceptical, but appreciated that it was a better option than unleashing a rawhead on the city.
Inside, Fiona headed for the lift. I looked at how cramped it was, especially with Topher and Fiona already inside, and decided to take the stairs. I arrived out of breath, just in time for Fiona to fail to get the lock open. I took over, and next thing I knew the pick had snapped. Of course Topher managed to punch it open with damn near surgical precision. Not that I was complaining.
I don't know what Fiona was expecting to find in this flat, but none of us were expecting nothing. The place was completely cleaned out. Except it wasn't completely empty. There was a lingering scent of bitter ash. The same thing I could smell when visiting the boggarts. Shit.
I was reluctant to believe there was absolutely nothing left here so went for a more thorough look around. Behind a curtain there was a far more mundane ash smell. Picking through the burned fragments in an ashtray I found a photo. East Asian woman, maybe Chinese. A note on the back called her a target and an easy mark. Fiona recognised the picture. Lin Xia, a city council clerk. Seems someone used her to cause our licensing problems. Fiona took the photo to give to DS Gunne as evidence. Strange it was still here though. Careless. That didn't fit with everything else we'd seen here.
We were just about to leave when we heard the door swing open and some kid walked in. I say kid. Didn't take long to clock a fledgling vamp, especially when he clearly wanted us to know. He called himself Steve and said we were on his turf. Thank god for Fiona's ability to bullshit her way out of damn near anything. There was some talk of him doing a better job with his sigils in future and we made another attempt to leave.
Except as I was following the others out, Steve said he recognised me, and that's not a good thing coming from a vampire. I hung back a bit and suggested maybe he'd seen me in the pub, but no. It was as bad as I feared. Lucien. I stopped entirely. Not smart, but at that moment being alone with a fledgling vampire sounded better than having to explain to the others about Lucien. Apparently he still talked about me as 'the one that got away'. And Steve was reminding me that while he was only a fledgling he was still a predator, and it was all I could do to remind myself that so am I. I might have left a little faster than was entirely dignified.
Fortunately there was plenty to distract me back at the pub. Cassie was looking frazzled and the agency staff we'd got for the day weren't inspiring much confidence. Plus there was the impending meeting with Clan Kielsyn that Topher had set up. What really worried me though was that bitter ash smell. It felt like fairy magic, but no kind of fae that either Fiona or I had ever heard of. I needed help, and who better than an actual associate member of the Council of Merlin?
Amelia answered the phone pretty quick, and it did feel good to hear her voice again. Asking for help didn't feel so good. She agreed, but of course it came with a price. And the price was having dinner with possibly the only person on Earth I like even less than Firs or Lucien. My old Dee College tutor, Percival Fitz-Percy.
I was thinking of checking what kind of mess the tweaker that the agency had apparently mistaken for a chef was making of my kitchen when I heard screams from downstairs. Seems Celia had been attempting some divination and it had gone...not well. Topher said she'd had frost coming out of her mouth, which certainly explained why he'd thought it was a good idea to throw a kettle of boiling water over her. Fiona was applying first aid, so all I really saw was the triskele she'd drawn on the floor. Apart from where the water had washed it away, it was identical to the one on the coin Firs gave me.
There was nothing else we could do for her at this point, and we couldn't miss our appointment with Clan Kielsyn. So I packed my trowel, and a surprisingly charming guy called Gus picked us up in some fancy car and took us to the Cornubia. A hole underneath a pub wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting - but then, what had I been expecting? It was a challenge getting Fiona and her chair down there and I suspect it hurt more than she was letting on. But it was worth it.
The room was beautiful. It had everything. Vaulted ceilings, carved walls, designs picked out in gold and gems showing a mix of native wildlife and pretty much any occult symbol I could think of. But the important thing was the three people covered in frost, floating above an empty pool in the middle of the room. Even under the frost I could see one of them was Damian.
After some careful examination we had a fair idea what we were looking at. A ward, and a big one too. If we were going to get those people out, we were going to have to destroy it, and that probably meant destroying this room with it. Which I'd do in a heartbeat, but I wasn't so sure about Gus. I guess I shouldn't have underestimated pack mentality.
It took all three of us plus Gus to do it once we'd got everyone else clear. At least if this all went wrong there'd be none of us left to blame. As we hit the four corners, the carvings melted and flowed onto the floor. I kept my eyes on Damian, and saw him and the others sink slowly to the ground as the frost retreated. They were obviously in need of urgent medical attention and Gus and Topher carried two of them to the ladder. I'm not that quite that strong but found it in me to drag the third all the same.
Gus was pretty hard to read when we got out ourselves, but he gave Fiona and me business cards which seemed to be some kind of token of respect and took us back to the Mitchester. Poor Cassie. We're definitely not going to use that agency again. And if that wasn't bad enough, we all spotted a familiar pair of six inch Louboutin heels. Fiona knows how to handle Carolina Fortunato though, whether she's acting on behalf of the Mayor or the Sodality.
My kitchen was a wreck, but before I could get started on fixing that I had to check on Celia. Seems Topher felt the same. We'd put her to bed in a spare room, but she was awake now and looking much better. And we had good news for her. We'd found Damian and he was going to be OK. She started tearing up at that, so I hugged her, and then the floodgates opened.
She'd just about managed to calm down and start asking why we were looking so gloomy when we'd just saved someone's life when suddenly she dropped the mug of cocoa she'd been holding, threw back her head, and started speaking in a voice I didn't recognise.
"A figure made from fire, ash and smoke laid in repose on a black stone table with a broken crown at its head. Flowers of pink, blue and yellow sprouted from its body and were burnt away only for new blossoms to erupt from under its skin."
Then she was back with us, and in her own voice asked Topher why she'd just seen him burning.
She was clearly exhausted, and we left her to sleep, but Topher was acting shifty. I knew what the flowers meant. Discipline, self-control, honour and bravery. Was that how Topher saw himself? He didn't seem sure about the brave part. And he was definitely hiding something. Celia's vision had clearly shaken him up, and it seemed to be something personal. But he obviously didn't want to talk, and I had a kitchen to clean. We could discuss it in the morning.
I was thinking it might be nice to get up a bit early and take wing for a while, but at something like half three in the morning I was woken up by someone hammering on the door. I legged it downstairs and found the most nondescript man I've ever seen demanding Topher tell him how many of us were here. Then he called over someone I never expected to see at the Mitchester. The Avonian Sibyl.
We did all the right stuff, inviting them in, offering hospitality. Turns out the Sibyl likes draught beer and pork scratchings. Mr Average turned out to be not quite so average in the teeth department. At least he turned down the offer. That could have been nasty.
The Sibyl had a request for us. "The clan found Damian’s odour too strong for their delicate noses, yet took him in anyway. It was only when Nigel’s name came up that paranoid Klaus relented and called him brother. Why?" We had twenty-four hours to get them an answer. We could hardly refuse. I watched the Sibyl go. I'd never seen anyone quite so powerful before. So why did they look melancholy and defeated?
No comments:
Post a Comment