She smoothed her hands down her body, giving me a coquettish look from under her lashes. ‘One can never be too rich or too thin, isn’t that what that American said, the Duchess of Windsor?’
I cast a judicious eye over her well-endowed curves. ‘Too thin doesn’t appear to be in your remit, so why don’t you stop playing games? There’s no way you want the egg for its monetary value, and to be honest, if I were going to sell it, I could do that myself.’
She clasped her hands together, then, taking a deep breath—almost popping out of her bustier—she nodded, as if to confirm something. ‘Very well, I will explain why it is so important, but first I need to show you something else.’ She blew on the glass window again. ‘It is a memory, one I find ... distressing, but—Well, you’ll see.’
Chapter Twenty
The mist cleared and another picture formed in the glass. It was like looking the wrong way down a telescope at first, then it rushed closer until two figures, as large as life, were displayed across the plate-glass window. Candles cast flickering lights over the rounded brick ceiling above them and the mural of a barren landscape with its distant, rocky mountain painted on the wall behind them. The figures stood inside a circle marked out in red on the concrete floor, either side of a stone plinth on which was lying a sheet-shrouded body. The material draped close enough to show the body was female. One figure was the Earl, blond hair flopping over his forehead as usual, his arm raised, but motionless, as if frozen in action. His cold azure eyes were assessing as he looked at the other figure. She leaned on her stick, the hood of her cloak pulled back from her fleshless, yellowed skull; the rich purple velvet falling from her shoulders to the floor couldn’t hide the twisted hunch of her spine. I recognised her too. She was the Ancient One.
Hannah spoke, a harsh guttural language I didn’t understand, and the words raised goosebumps over my flesh and sent a shiver rasping down my spine.
The Earl’s arm flowed into movement and he grasped the shroud and peeled it back from the body. The body was Rosa, naked and statue-still, her long black hair curling over her shoulders, her fists clenched in pain or anger, her eyes staring open, lips drawn back from her fangs.
‘It is truly astonishing,’ the Earl said in his aristocratic voice. ‘The body still shows no ill effects after two years of the sidhe using the spell.’ He stroked his hand down over Rosa’s stomach and dipped his fingers into the bloody wound that marked her left hip. He brought his hand close to his nose, sniffed, and sucked his fingers clean, sighing with obvious enjoyment. ‘And the blood tastes even sweeter than the last time.’ He smiled benevolent approval at the Ancient One. ‘Your magic is exceedingly good, Crone. I really should commend you.’
‘My lordship.’ The Ancient One bobbed her head. ‘But I must warn you, it is not wise to feed as deeply as you have in the past. It could cause an imbalance.’
‘I will feed as I personally see fit. You are well paid to control the magic, you and your apprentice here.’ He waved a dismissive hand in our direction. ‘And indeed, speaking of problems’—he lost his smile—‘the sidhe is now working with the witches; they have offered her their protection.’
‘It is not something I could have foreseen, my lordship.’ The Ancient One’s voice grew querulous.
‘Nonetheless, it is a situation that must be dealt with. The prohibition was to end on her twenty-third birthday, but with the witches involved, now she will continue to be out of my reach, unless—’ He gazed speculatively down at Rosa, then brushed her hair back and traced the blue veins that ran like cords down her throat. A gold chain nestled in the crease of her neck and he hooked his fingers under it and followed it down to where an oval gold locket rested between her breasts. He slid his hand under the locket, cupped it in his palm as if weighing it, then smiled at the Ancient One. ‘You have the sidhe’s necklace, Crone, the one that belonged to her stepmother. You shall give it to me, then once she knows I have it, she will come to me of her own accord and the witches’ protection will no longer overly concern me.’
The Ancient One’s hand tightened on the head of her cane, her knuckles whitening. ‘I can’t do that, my lordship. I took it as security only. I have agreed to return it once the debt is repaid.’
‘While the sidhe uses the spell, she still owes you, is that not correct?’
‘It is, my lordship, but—’
‘Then there is still a debt.’ He released the gold locket, which slapped hollowly on Rosa’s chest, and adjusted his cuffs. ‘The necklace will be secure with me, probably more so, so there is nothing to alarm you.’
‘No, I will not risk it.’ She held a shaking hand up in denial. ‘The sidhe is young and unskilled, but it is not wise to cross one of the noble fae—’
‘It is not wise to cross me, Crone,’ he interrupted, leaning forward, menace in his lowered voice. ‘Do not think your Black Arts will protect you either. I have lived more than eight centuries, and I have dealt with sorcerers before.’ His lips parted on a glimpse of fang. ‘And Istill live,’ he hissed, ‘and theydo not—since even a demon-powered carcase such as yours is still mortal, and thus still needs blood and a beating heart to sustain it.’ He straightened. ‘Now, give me the sidhe’s necklace.’
Her stick trembled under her grip. ‘As you command, my lordship.’ She turned towards us, and for an instant it looked like the empty sockets of her eyes were crawling with fat grey maggots. ‘Hannah, fetch the black opal collar from the safe and bring it to me,’ she ordered. The large death’s head ring on her finger winked its amber eyes in anger. And Hannah, my lovely, bring me also the powdered dragons’ scale. This piece of blood-sucking shite needs to be taught a lesson.
Next to me, Hannah spoke more words in the hair-raising language.
The picture flickered. Time seemed to jerk from one frame to the next, then the tableau from the past flooded with red and a shower of blood obliterated my view. The blood coated the glass, which cracked and shattered, exploding outwards into hundreds of sharp shards of pain-bright light.
Instinctively I flung my hands up to protect my eyes, imagining that something had hit the plate-glass window and broken it, but I quickly realised it too was an illusion. I leaned my forehead against the cool glass and stared blindly down at the crowded dancefloor below, trying to take in the implications of Hannah’s memory.
For three years I’d been using my Alter Vamp spell, thinking I was donning a particularly expensive disguise sold me by the Ancient One. But all those three years I’d been walking round in Rosa’s body, and all that time she’d been at the mercy of the Earl, a manipulative, sadistic, bastardblood-sucker. Bile rose in my throat. Rosa might have been a vamp herself, and judging by her memories and her reputation she was no Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes—not that many vamps were—but no way would I wish that kind of existence on her, or anyone. And no way did I want it to continue. It wasn’t just about not using the spell any more for my own sanity; now I needed to find her body and release her from whatever magical bondage held her.
‘The Earl killed her, you know.’ Hannah’s words brought my attention back to her. She stood there, her hands curling into claws, her face screwing up with hatred. ‘When I returned with the necklace, he laughed and ripped her head off in front of me, like he was twisting the head of a chicken. But he was right, she was a sorcerer, and the first thing any sorcerer does is safeguard their soul.’ She laughed herself, a harsh sound, like the guttural memory spell. ‘There’s no point selling it to a demon if you don’t get the chance to enjoy the rewards is there?’