If the houses were hosting the Emperor and his gang, then they would take the bridge at the crossroads. Only I wasn’t stupid enough to head down the creepy, ambush likely path after them.

But I didn’t need to. I could go the long way round through the more open parkland, which would make it easier to see anyone coming and, if I sprinted, still get to the crossroads before them and lie in wait. Yeah, it risked losing them but tailing them was looking more and more like a long shot anyway.

‘But first,’ I muttered, ‘a little added insurance.’

I fished inside my T-shirt, hooked out the chain I was wearing and pulled it over my head. The tiny blue-glass bottle that had contained the Morpheus Memory Aid potion dangled from the chain like a pendant. I’d salt-washed the bottle and filled it with Tavish’s disgusting werewolf repellent. Not that I was planning on anointing myself with the stuff – it stank enough that everyone, including werewolves with sensitive noses, would know I was about – but the bottle was fragile enough that it was easily broken. If anyone came at me with nefarious notions, werewolf or not, I’d crush the bottle and even if the obnoxious smell didn’t drive them away, it would give me a couple of seconds’ distraction.

And a second was all I needed to release Ascalon.

I placed another ‘I went this way’ drop of blood on the ground. Then, gripping the tiny bottle in my left hand, its neck chain wrapped round my wrist, and holding my right hand with Ascalon’s ring at the ready, I started running, sprinting over the summer-dry ground as silently as possible.

The bushes on my right grew denser as I raced past, leeching away the light and shifting with amorphous grey shadows that seemed to be keeping pace with me. Shadows that reminded me of the animal I’d seen on Primrose Hill the other night, the one my Morpheus-Memory-enhanced dream had shown me. My mind told me it was down to my imagination, to being hyper-aware of my surroundings, and that the grey shadows I kept glimpsing out the corner of my eye, and the hair-raising rustles and snaps I could almost hear coming from the thick vegetation, really weren’t a pair of huge werewolves licking their lips as they loped alongside me.

I neared the crossroads and slowed, pulse pounding like thunder in my ears, as I looked for a good spying place.

Shock splintered through me as a familiar presence pinged my Spidey senses.

I jogged forwards warily until I reached the crossroads and could see all four paths.

All seemed deserted.

But I knew there was a vamp nearby.

One I could feel, but couldn’t see.

The taste of Turkish Delight teased my tongue and my heart thudded with anticipation.

‘Show yourself,’ I murmured.

Shadows coalesced from nowhere at the start of the bridge twenty or so feet in front of me, twisting like smoke as they took on line and form and detail, until a figure stood, legs apart, arms loose at his sides, his black leather coat snapping around his leather-clad legs in a non-existent wind; the same wind blew his shoulder-length black silk hair away from his pale, perfect face and I caught my breath at his beauty.

Malik al-Khan.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

‘Typical flashy vamp entrance, Malik,’ I murmured, knowing he could hear me, and wondering why he’d followed me here instead of waiting for me to turn up to our date. Was it concern? Or something else?

The corner of his mouth quirked briefly. ‘Genevieve.’ His scent of warm leather mixed with dark spice and liquorice curled round me like a teasing summer breeze, making my stomach flutter. Part nerves, part lust. Mesma.

Wary, my fingers tensed around the bottle of werewolf repellent; the stuff stank enough that it would work on a vamp too. I trusted Malik. But only if he was the one in control. And since I’d last seen him, I couldn’t be sure that Bastien the sadist hadn’t been up to his torturing tricks. My gaze skimmed over Malik’s beautiful face, down his long lean body, searching for any new nasty spells or possible injuries. Nothing.

‘Just so I’m clear,’ I said, raising my voice slightly, ‘who am I chatting to? Is it you or is this going to be like the other night, with the Autarch doing his remote string-pulling thing, or whatever was going on with that Jellyfish spell?’

Malik touched the faded delta scar on his forehead as if in a brief salute. ‘I appreciate why you might be concerned, but with the spell’s influence removed, I am the only one who is pulling my strings. I give you my word of honour.’

His word. Good. Neither Malik nor the Autarch would mess around with that. I slung the tiny bottle on its neck chain back over my head.

‘Glad to hear it,’ I said, the knot of worry under my heart easing as I allowed myself a longer, more appreciative stare. And damn, in all that leather he might be wearing the clichéd, dangerous vamp look that all the Fang-Fans drooled over, but hell, I was ready to drool too. In fact, after our close encounter on the table at the hotel, I was ready to do way more than drool. And there’s no reason I couldn’t. At that thought, desire coiled deep inside me—

Malik’s obsidian eyes took on his sleepy tiger look. ‘Are you well, Genevieve?’

Oh, yeah.‘Good, thanks,’ I said, giving him my best innocent smile. He might have vamp supersenses, but just because Malik could tell what my body was feeling didn’t mean I couldn’t at least try to keep him guessing.

His look sharpened. ‘Is there a reason you are jogging in the park and are not at the mosque?’ His question held an edge of disapproval. Hmm. Irritating vamp better not be getting ideas about doing his whole ‘protecting the sidhe’ thing again.

‘I was chasing a couple of the Emperor’s werewolves.’ I shrugged, like it was an everyday occurrence, and started walking towards him. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve seen any sniffing around?’

A fine line furrowed his brow. ‘Were these werewolves in human, animal or beast form?’

He hadn’t denied the possibility that the Emperor or his werewolves might be about. So, did that mean he knew something, but was going to stall me, or what? ‘Human, last I saw, but that was nearly ten minutes ago.’

‘I see.’ He lifted his chin, nostrils flaring, then his frown cut deeper. ‘It is possible they have come this way, but I cannot tell conclusively.’

My frown joined his. It wasn’t the answer I expected. Or wanted. Annoyed, I stopped a few feet away from him. ‘Why not?’

‘A werewolf in human form does not carry enough of their wolf’s scent for them to be identified by smell alone; it is part of the magic that allows them to be two-natured. I would need to have met them in their human form before I could pick out their scent from the myriad of others that permeate the air about us. As for scenting a werewolf in their wolf or beast form, there are a number of scents upon the air that could be wolf, or a large canine of some description, but with the zoo and the Carnival nearby that is to be expected.’

Right. Good that he was giving me chapter and verse without any prevarication. It meant he was on the level and not trying to hide anything. For a change. My irritation dissipated and I took a step closer. ‘So a werewolf in human form smells like a human, and in their wolf form smells like a wolf?’

‘Yes,’ he agreed, giving me a look that said he had his own questions but was prepared to answer mine. For now. ‘They are much more easily identified by sight, or by their blood.’

I blinked. ‘They don’t smell different, but their blood does?’

He moved closer; his coat brushed against my jeans. I stuck my hands in my back pockets, resisting the urge to run my fingers down his black T-shirt where it stretched over his hard abs. Later.

‘Their blood has a certain tang to it, yes.’