Trouble was, neither of us liked the other. We’d butted heads during the Mr October murder, and it wasn’t just because she’d wanted me to stay out of the investigation. No, our main bone of contention was Finn, my boss. At some point in their past, DI Helen Crane and Finn had jumped the broom together, and even though he said it was over, anyone could see she wasn’t of the same opinion. It didn’t matter that my relationship with Finn was nebulous at best; if DI Crane had been here, her feelings towards me where anti enough that I had no doubt she’d be cheering the Earl on from the sidelines.
I was thankful she was just on the TV.
And as she headed up the Metropolitan Police’s Magic Murder Squad, seeing her giving some sort of news conference outside the MMS headquarters, Old Scotland Yard, wasn’t any sort of surprise. The Earl turned the volume up.
‘—nothing more to report on the disappearance of Genevieve Taylor, the sidhe fae who is believed to have information about the tragic death of Tomas Eriksen, a local baker and businessman,’ Inspector Helen was saying. ‘Mr Eriksen was a much-liked and well-respected figure within the community of Covent Garden, and he will be sorely missed. Should anyone have information about the whereabouts of Genevieve Taylor, we ask them not to approach her for their own safety, but to call Old Scotland Yard immediately on the number now showing on the bottom of the screen. All calls will be treated as confidential.’
‘Detective Inspector Crane,’ someone shouted, ‘is it true that the sidhe is a suspect in the murder of Tomas Eriksen?’
Flashbulbs popped. The inspector’s three jade brooches and dangling garnet earrings glittered and for a moment I thought I could almost see the spells she’d stored in the gemstones. ‘We want Ms Taylor to help us with our enquires—’
‘Inspector, Kim Jones for the Daily Mail here, what evidence do you have that the sidhe murdered Mr Eriksen?’
‘If she’s not the killer,’ came a shout from the crowd, ‘why are you saying she’s dangerous?’
The inspector held up her hands, her collection of rings looking like expensive knuckledusters. ‘It is believed Ms Taylor was injured when the bakery exploded, and is thus not fully cognisant of her surroundings; we don’t think she would deliberately hurt—’
Shock sliced through me. ‘The bakery exploded?’ I blurted.
‘How else did you think you were injured, my dear?’ The Earl muted the sound. ‘I understand there was a lot of loose flour around; the news bods have had an expert on to explain the chemistry, something about starch being easy to burn and dust catching fire at the slightest of sparks, and then, boom!’ He threw his hands in the air to illustrate his point. ‘The explosion looks quite extensive.’
Questions jumped into my head; I picked out the most important. ‘Was anyone hurt?’
‘Only yourself and Malik al-Khan, who is sadly much worse off and unlikely to be around in the near future to provide you with any aid.’ He smiled happily and briefly squeezed my thigh, causing another wave of craving to wash painfully over my body, effectively silencing my other questions. ‘Oh look, this is my favourite part,’ he said, pointing the remote at the plasma again. Through lust-blurred vision I recognised the bakery. The CCTV recording showed the back of someone—me—dressed in running shorts and sweatshirt talking to the florist’s lad. I glanced around, giving the camera a good look at my profile and then stripped off my sweatshirt ... The date-time stamp on the picture flipped to around half an hour later when the front of the shop exploded outwards, spraying large amounts of broken bricks, debris and dust into the air. Bright orange flames started to flicker amongst the devastation. The TV screen switched back to a picture of a silent talking head.
‘You do have a capacity for upsetting people.’ The Earl brushed a speck from his knee. ‘It really is rather careless of you, my dear.’
I stared at the TV, my mind sifting through everything. Was he right? Had I angered someone enough for them to kill poor Tomas just to set me up? Or was there some other reason? Whatever it was I wouldn’t know until I—or the police—found his murderer. Trouble was, if I walked into Old Scotland Yard without an alibi, DI Crane would have me banged up faster than I could say I’m innocent. She’d already convicted me in her own mind, and very nearly to the world. No way was she going to be looking for anyone else, let alone another sidhe, to pin Tomas’ death on—especially when I was the only sidhe in London. And then there was the fact that I am sidhe fae: unlike a human, there’d be no sitting in jail serving my time for me, just a quick one-way trip to the guillotine.
The Earl was gazing at me expectantly, and since he appeared to be offering me the carrot after effectively threatening me with his fang-tipped stick, I dutifully asked the question. ‘What’s the deal?’
‘Direct and to the point as usual. It is one of the several aspects I cherish about you, my dear.’ He licked his lips. ‘But of course, business before pleasure.’ He waved at the TV screen. ‘I can make this problem go away.’
Surprise, surprise. ‘How exactly?’
‘Why, friends in high places.’ He gave a quick frown. ‘Or is it low?’ Then he smiled as if I should get the joke. I didn’t. ‘Well, anyway,’ he carried on, ‘friends who have the same ideals that I do, and who are, very rightly, concerned about the current situation.’
It was my turn to frown. ‘What situation?’
‘Why, my tragic demise, of course.’ He squeezed my thigh and a slither of lust made me gasp again. ‘My passing has left a breach in London’s vampire community. I fear the lack of true leadership will result in utter chaos. All my careful planning, my nurturing of our current status, will be destroyed by incompetence.’
‘What the—?’ I stopped at the Earl’s admonishing look, conscious of his hand on my leg. ‘I don’t understand what you’re talking about.’
His expression turned condescending. ‘Allow me to explain, my dear. I have worked tirelessly this last eight hundred years to ensure vampires here in my country are both respected by and respectful of humankind.’ He adjusted his cuffs. ‘It is how we were able to successfully recover our human rights; it is why we have not been hunted almost to extinction as in the Russias and the East. It is why we do not have to barricade ourselves into our castles as they do in the rest of Europe.’ He spread his arms wide as if to a larger audience. ‘To ensure that continues, I conceived the idea of vampires contributing to the entertainment and media industries, and thus elevating ourselves from the common perception of blood-sucking parasites subservient to the Witches’ Council to revered celebrities with the power to influence the human world as we so desire.’
Megalomaniac soap-box, much!
‘With my presence gone and me no longer the dominant voice,’ he carried on, ‘I fear that the reactionary elements within our society will force a situation where we have to return to hiding our faces, to pretending that we are something we are not in an effort to live lives of precarious comfort.’
I narrowed my eyes. ‘That still doesn’t tell me what you want.’
‘You are my blood-bond, Genevieve.’ He beamed at me. ‘You will be my avatar.’
‘What?’ I was still none the wiser.
‘All will become clear, my dear.’ The Earl waved a dismissive hand at the French doors. ‘Sadly, though, our time together has run out. Dawn approaches, so I will leave you to rest until later.’ He smiled his charming smile and then vanished.
Stunned, I stared at the empty air, not entirely sure if his fang-filled grin had remained like the Cheshire cat’s.