Heart pounding, I raced after him, barely noticing the four werewolves who had taken up sphinx-like positions around the Empress on her stone, to a spot outside in the lee of the stage.
Bastien waved a hand at the open space with its chain circles and cages. ‘Behold!’
I looked. And stared in horror, my eyes refusing to believe what they were seeing.
The place was a hive of movement. Hugh’s boys and girls in blue had corralled the vamp centurions and a crowd of folk dressed in their designer best, who had to be the auction bidders, into some of the cages. And now they were taking statements from the huddle of Others who were obviously the ‘lots’ from the cages and their ‘coin-holders’ from the chain circles. But despite all the activity under the fierce glare of the halogen spotlights, my eyes fixed on the small group gathered at the heart of it all.
I, or someone who looked enough like me, right down to my black jeans and T-shirt, that Icouldn’t tell the difference, was standing talking to Hugh, Tavish and Finn. Bastien said something, but his words didn’t register past the pulse thundering in my ears. Finn had his hand protectively on the imposter’s shoulder, his horns curving up in full threat mode. Tavish had a nimbus of watery power surrounding him like an aura – a personal Ward – and, held securely in his arms, was a bundle of brown fluff that I recognised as Freya, my niece in her doggy form. The imposter had her arm round Katie, hugging her close. And loitering a few feet away from Katie, his shoulders hunched over, was Katie’s treacherous ‘boyfriend’, Marc, the big-cat-shifter.
It was his gaze, fixed unerringly on the imposter, which tipped me off.
She was Gold Cat. Somehow she’d got herself enough power to make herself solid and then Glamour herself up to look like me, then she’d pulled a fast one and taken my place. And none of my friends appeared to know the difference . . .
Gold Cat
Gold Cat hugged the trembling girl as she sank into the sliver of ‘Genny’ inside her, searching for— ah, the trembling girl was called Katie, and was much loved.She hugged Katiecloser, in spite of the acrid stink of fear, sweat, werewolf and the faint remnants of some disgusting perfume that clung to her. But beneath the stink were the cleaner scents of will and strength and courage. Katiewas a good choice to breed the next generation of their pride. Gold Cat looked over at the young male, Marc, nodding her approval. He jutted his chin, angry and frightened for the girl – protective. He’d make her a good mate– and confused for himself, but not enough to tell the rest gathered around them here, on this, the Summer Solstice, that Gold Cat was not who they thought. Not their ‘Genny’.
How’s it going?The voice of the leannán sidhe came in Gold Cat’s head. You finding your paws okay?
Yes. But not every “lot” is here. There are three missing. The gnome continued with the auction in the Emperor’s absence. The part of me that is Genny is worried about the missing, as is her police friend, the mountain troll. Do you know what has become of them?
‘Hmm, let me see . . . Ah, yes, here’s one. Lot number eight, the hairless cat in the blue jumper.’
Everyone froze as a tarot card appeared in front of Gold Cat. The card showed a tall, shimmering gold female, with shapely devil’s horns and a magnificent peacock tail, standing in one of the silver and copper chain circles. As soon as the gnome released her from the circle, the female smacked him on the head with her coin, then ran over, yanked open the cage and scooped the cat up, raining kisses on his hairless head before the pair vanished with a pop.
‘I wonder what misfortune will befall them from the gold coins,’ Gold Cat said, as the smiling image of the leannán sidhe, twirling her lavender parasol, took the pair’s place on the card.
‘Oh, I would not worry about them. I hear she has connections in low places. Very hot, low places. Like one of the lowest levels of H.E.L.L.’
‘Hell is a place I have never visited,’ Gold Cat said.
The leannán sidhe laughed. ‘You should work on your delivery. You don’t sound like the bean sidhe at all. You need to add some attitude. Oh, and your breasts are too big. The bean sidhe’s are smaller.’
Gold Cat scrutinised her generous proportions. Were they too large? The sliver of Genny thought so, though something else seemed to be encouraging Gold Cat to add to Genny’s slender curves. But she couldn’t afford to draw attention to her Glamour. Reluctantly, she adjusted her shape and size down. ‘I appreciate the advice,’ she told the leannán sidhe. ‘What befell— happened to the other two lots?’
The leannán sidhe tilted her head. ‘Now, who else didn’t give you their coin? Oh, yes, the selkie. His ex-wife kept it. She didn’t want to lose her shot at revenge after he abandoned her and their kids to go back to sea. But she didn’t barter for him. A man from the Golden Hindbought him.’
‘I am confused. Has the selkie not been . . . squatting in the Golden Hindfor the last few months?’
‘The ship on the River Thames, yes. He’s been quite the tourist draw. But his purchaser owns another replica, one in Devon. He wants the selkie so he can use him to drum up trade down there. Which is where the selkie’s family lives anyway.’
‘Why is . . . what’s the catch in that?’
‘Well done! That sounded more like the bean sidhe,’ Viviane nodded approval. ‘The catch is the selkie’s wife will keep his skin, and all his wages as alimony. Wrong decision, really, she should have let him go. This way neither of them will be happy.’
‘That is unfortunate.’
‘Oh, he’s got a better outcome than lot number nine. One of your pride’s ailuranthropes, I believe. No coin-holder turned up for him.’
‘Yes. Steve Dean. My pride memories tell me he was a human turned accidently by a Bite. He was given a position as one of the pride protectors.’
‘Well, Mr Kaito, International Purveyor of Rare Epicurean Delicacies, bid the highest at the auction for Steve Dean, so Steve is now on his way to the next Töhoku Fukushima Annual Charity Banquet. He is to be the main course.’
Gold Cat frowned. ‘Can he be rescued?’
‘He’s already on ice.’
‘Ice? Does that mean he is dead?’
‘Yep.’
‘This makes me sad,’ Gold Cat said. ‘It also makes me glad I consumed the gnome.’
‘How was he?’ the leannán sidhe enquired.
Gold Cat hawked and spat. ‘Ancient, big power, but bad taste.’
‘What about the satyr?’
A satisfied smile spread across Gold Cat’s face and she purred before she could stop herself. ‘The satyr is a good mate.’
‘Glad it worked out for you,’ the leannán sidhe said, her tone envious. ‘Well, I shall return to my cards now. I have one last reading to do for the bean sidhe then I shall gain my freedom. I wish you good luck.’
The world around Gold Cat unfroze and she plucked the tarot card from the air before it dropped. ‘Good luck to you too, leannán sidhe’ she murmured. I owe you one, as Genny would say.
‘Everything okay, Gen?’ The satyr’s concerned voice was warm against her ear.
She smiled at him. ‘Soon will be.’ She waved at the hive of activity in front of her. ‘Once we sort things out with Hugh and this is all over. Then we can go home.’ Which would be the second test.
She’d already passed the first test when the kelpie – Tavish– the one who could taste souls, had shown himself as the coin-holder for the small fluffy dog – Freya, niece, sort of,the sliver of Genny reminded her – though that sliver had been surprised and intrigued that Tavish was the one who’d come for the little shapeshifting faeling. Gold Cat hadn’t been interested enough to ask why. An oversight, she realised now, and something she’d need to rectify. Soon. Consuming the ancient gnome had given her power and living flesh. Shaping that flesh to replicate Genny had been easy, coating her spirit with the sliver of Genny’s soul not much harder, but the true test, as the leannán sidhe had pointed out, lay in aping Genny’s personality.