I chugged the rest of the blood-fruit Mary down, and stepped back.

Something crunched under my foot.

It was the fortune cookie the old Chinese woman had given me. I’d stowed it in my backpack.

Gingerly, I picked it up. It crumbled in my hand and a blank tarot card zoomed out to hover in front of me.

Pulse speeding with excitement, and a little trepidation, I hurriedly set a Privacy spell (there was too much wood around and no way did I want any of Sylvia’s mother’s spies hearing about this), swapped the glass for a knife and slashed my index finger.

‘I offer my blood solely in exchange for the answer to my questions. No harm to me or mine,’ I said, and touched the tarot card.

The little mouth latched onto my blood with gusto. Still no pain, other than a tiny tickle.

‘Tell me how to find that which is lost, and how to join that which is sundered, to release the fae’s fertility from the pendant and restore it back to them as it was before it was taken,’ I asked, repeating my original question.

The mouth stopped sucking. ‘Eh, why’s everyone so blummin’ impatient,’ a crotchety voice grumbled. ‘Blimey, can’t ye let a body have a few moments to drink in peace?’

‘Um, sure,’ I said, not sure if the voice was male or female. ‘Sorry.’

‘So ye should be, girlie. So ye blummin’ should be. Now keep yer mouth shut till I’m done.’ The mouth latched back on and I watched as my blood turned the card red from the bottom up.

An image appeared on the card.

Chapter Eighteen

A blood-red moon hung between two Romo-Greco-style pillars, frowning down at a grey-brown wolf which was baying up at the moon, and a dog with a stick in its mouth. The ground was covered with snow, apart from a black-cinder path leading between the two beasts and into the distance. A nebulous dark shape was clawing its way onto the path from the crimson-coloured river running along the front of the card.

The Moon. Symbolising feelings of uncertainty, of being haunted by the past, and associated with dreams, fantasies and mysteries. Well, it got that right; my past was haunting me in the shape of the Autarch and the Fertility pendant; Malik had the dreams and fantasies nailed, and the Emperor was certainly a mystery. And if I needed any more convincing, the moon was shadowed by a black sickle shape, matching the black gem in Malik’s ring; the dog was a silvery-grey Irish wolfhound, like Mad Max in his doggy persona; and the wolf was a werewolf with distinctive green starburst-patterned human eyes. Which left the dark thing in the river. Wasn’t it supposed to be a crayfish? Though since it was meant to represent ‘fears that come out of the abyss’, the dark shape had it covered.

The card stopped sucking on my finger and I repeated my original question.

The wolf howled at the moon and leaped out of the card on to my arm. I tried not to flinch as its sharp prehensile paws dug into my flesh.

‘He knows! He will tell you! For a price!’

‘Is he the Emperor?’ I asked, double-checking.

‘Yes.’

‘Is the Emperor a vampire?’

‘Yes.’

Good to have what I knew confirmed. ‘Can you tell me where to find him?’

‘No.’

‘Can you tell me what price he wants?’

‘No.’

Figured. Rather than get a straight yes or no again, I risked an open question. ‘What can you tell me?’

‘They are coming.’

Informative. Not. ‘Who are they?’ I asked. ‘And why are they coming?’

‘They are the beasts. They come for you.’

My pulse sped. ‘Why do they come for me?’

The Irish wolfhound barked and dropped the stick he was holding, then jumped out of the card. Snapping at the wolf’s heels, the dog chased it back into the card. As the two hit the snowy scene the moon flashed bright as a halogen light and illuminated the shape that was clawing its way out of the river. It was a monstrous grey and black striped cat, bigger than both wolfhound and wolf.

As a pictorial manifestation of ‘fears that come out of the abyss’, the cat had a crayfish beat hands down. It opened its jaws wide, showcasing huge sabre-tooth fangs, then shook itself, spraying bloody droplets over the snow-covered ground as well as the stick the dog had dropped— no, not a stick but a silver dagger, half-buried. It looked similar to the one the Emperor had been holding in the first tarot card, only now I could see some of the handle. It was carved twisted bone and eerily familiar—

The cat screamed and the card disintegrated into a mini snowstorm. The crimson-tinged flakes drifted down to melt like ice on my skin.

I stood stunned. I was pretty sure the dagger’s handle was carved from a unicorn’s horn. The last time I’d seen a dagger like that was during the demon attack at Hallowe’en. It couldn’t be the same knife; that one had gone to hell with the demon. But this one looked similar enough that I wondered if it had the same power— a Bonder of Souls.

Only, why would the tarot cards show it first with the Emperor, then with Mad Max’s doggy persona? And should I be more worried about the knife, or that the Emperor’s beasts were coming for me? Or maybe they were already here; Katie thought she’d seen a werewolf after all. And I’d been so fixed on the flasher/watcher/shapeshifter being the Autarch that I hadn’t believed her.

Damn it. Katie.

If the werewolf had been at the Primrose Hill park to sniff me out, then there was a good chance it had sniffed Katie out too. Tavish might say there was nothing in the old wives’ tale about werewolves chasing virgins, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t go after her to get at me.

I yanked my robe on and called Tavish.

He answered on the ninth ring and, almost jumping up and down with worry, I demanded, ‘Did you give Katie that werewolf-repelling perfume yet?’

‘Aye, course I did, doll. I sent it her right after we chatted. Sent some to you too, ’twill be in your fridge. Why?’

The anxious knot in my stomach relaxed slightly. Katie was safe; the perfume should keep the werewolves at bay. And the Ward on her necklace would protect her from almost anything else.

I said thanks and filled Tavish in on the Moon tarot card. ‘So,’ I finished, ‘I obviously need to watch out for werewolves, but what about the knife? Could it be another soul-bonding one? And if it is, why does he want it?’

‘Och, Soul Bonders are a rarity. The knife may be another thing entirely. ’Tis difficult to say why, doll, with only two cards revealed. ’Twill be easier to divine once the full reading is complete.’

‘So not helpful, Tavish.’

‘Aye, well, I told you searching out the answers takes time.’

‘What about the fact that the Emperor’s holding the knife in the first card, but the Irish wolfhound has it in this one? That’s got to mean something?’

‘Nae doubt it does, and the cards will tell you in time.’

He sounded preoccupied, but then I could hear his computers beeping and the clack of keys in the background. I tapped my foot, anxious. ‘Tavish, c’mon, they’re your cards. Give me something to work with here.’

‘Aye, but ’tis your reading. So ’tis catered to what’s in your mind and heart, nae mine.’

‘Okay, then how’s this for a theory.’ I closed my eyes, trying to fit the pieces together. ‘The werewolf on the card said the Emperor’s werewolves are coming for me. It felt like a threat, but what if it’s not? What if it’s just a heads up? I mean, when I asked the werewolf why the Emperor wanted me, the Irish wolfhound chased the werewolf off. And when I asked Malik about the Emperor last night, he started prevaricating, and he was under the Autarch’s influence.’

I leaned on the kitchen counter, head in my hand and clutched the phone closer. ‘So if we take it the Irish wolfhound, a.k.a. Mad Max, represents the Autarch, and the werewolf represents the Emperor, then the dog stopping the werewolf from telling me things could mean that the Autarch is trying to stop me from finding the Emperor.’