She looked at me in silence for a long moment, then said, ‘Did you hit your head when you fainted?’

I huffed. ‘I didn’t faint.’

‘If you say so.’ She grinned then said, ‘Okay. Weretigers, or ailuranthropes to give them their proper name, became extinct’ – she frowned – ‘on 21st June 1758, in Hunan province in southern China, when the last one went loco and mauled eight teenage girls. The girls died and the locals trapped the weretiger in its animal form and stoned it to death.’

I blinked. ‘That’s . . . very specific.’

‘Mum was looking at something in the witch archives the other night, to do with weres, proper name, therianthropes.’ Mary’s mother was on the Witches’ Council. ‘It stuck in my memory.’

The hair on my nape stood on end. ‘Really? That’s a weird coincidence.’

‘Why weird?’

‘Because I asked,’ I said, mulling over how likely it actually was a coincidence, or was the Witches’ Council somehow aware or even involved in what was going on. ‘And because I was just thinking about werewolves.’

‘Werewolves, proper name, lycanthropes, are the only therianthropes that aren’t extinct,’ Mary said blandly.

‘I know,’ I answered just as blandly. ‘What was the problem your mum had?’

She gave me her cop face. ‘Why do you want to know, Genny?’

I hugged my knees, debating what to tell her, if anything, saved from making a decision when Hugh appeared.

He hunkered down next to me, concern creasing his face and offered me one of the takeaway cups he was carrying. ‘How’re you feeling, Genny?’

‘Good, thanks.’ I wrapped my fingers round the cool cup, inhaled the welcome scent of orange juice. ‘Now I’m awake.’

He patted my shoulder gently. ‘The medic wanted to take you to HOPE’ – the Human and Other Preternatural Ethics clinic where they treated all things magical – ‘but as your vitals were stable, I thought if you stayed here it would be easier for us to talk.’

‘Yeah, we need to,’ I said, then got to the point. ‘It was the blood on the bodyguard’s kurta. Its scent was the trigger and knocked me into a sort of vision.’

‘The scent knocked you into a vision?’ Interest lit his cloud-grey eyes.

I glanced at Mary listening a few feet away. She was a friend, but she was also a witch, and her mother was on the Witches’ Council. And they’d been looking into wereshifters. My paranoia hit: I still had a nasty taste from Witch-bitch Helen interfering in my life. I dug a Privacy crystal out, set it, then filled Hugh in on nearly everything; the tarot cards, the ambassador at the mosque, the werewolves, and Malik’s memory (which I asked Hugh to call a ‘sort of vision’ to respect Malik’s privacy). ‘Only none of that tells us why the werewolves kidnapped the victims from here,’ I finished. ‘Or where they’re holding them. Or what they gave the ambassador. Or what it all has to do with the fae’s trapped fertility.’ I gave him a hopeful smile. ‘Any ideas?’

Hugh’s ruddy-coloured face creased with worry. ‘That’s a lot of information, Genny, and I’m not happy that Tavish has involved you with the fae again, or with the vampires, but what’s done is done. And I can see why you agreed to help.’ He tapped his cup thoughtfully. ‘As for everything else, most of what you’ve told me is uncorroborated and circumstantial.’ He held his hand up as I started to disagree. ‘But I’ll get the blood on the kurta checked for werewolf identifiers, which will give us something concrete. And I’ll put an official request to the Oligarch’s office to speak with Malik al-Khan.’

I scowled. ‘Told you, I’ll be talking to him myself, tonight.’

‘You also told me Malik is being difficult.’

I’d actually told Hugh Malik was being an idiotic, irritating vamp, but hey. And Hugh had a point. Despite my ‘blackmailing’ text, Malik might still go all Lone Ranger on me, but he wouldn’t ignore an official request from the police. And this was about the victims. I nodded. ‘Sure. Whatever works.’

‘Good.’ Hugh said, giving my shoulder a satisfied pat. ‘This is why I wanted you here, Genny. I hoped that with a closer look, your sensitive nose might pick up a recognisable scent. Which it seems it has. Admittedly, it was a bit of a long shot, but with three victims’ lives at risk . . .’ His mouth split in a smile, pink granite teeth gleaming. ‘No stone unturned is always a good motto.’

‘Ha ha, Hugh.’ I rolled my eyes at him. ‘But glad I could help, even if it’s not much. Though my “sensitive nose” disappeared yesterday. I’m not sure why it picked up the blood smell so strongly.’

‘Smells associated with traumatic and/or important events often bring strong memories or flashbacks. Which seems to be the case here, albeit second-hand.’ Anxious red dust puffed from Hugh’s headridge. ‘But there’s something else that worries me in all this. These tarot cards. For a question dealing with the fae, they seem very focused on getting you involved with the vampires. Are you sure the cards haven’t been tampered with?’

I raked a hand through my hair. ‘It’s crossed my mind. But Tavish assures me it’s not possible. And I trust him.’

‘Tavish is the àrd-cheann, and as such he is the one fae, other than yourself, who has regular dealings with the vampires.’

Right. Tavish’s dealings were with Malik. And I trusted Malik too. Only for the last few months he’d been under the sway of the Autarch, thanks to that icky Jellyfish spell. The only way I’d trust Bastien was if he was a pile of ash, even then not so much.

‘I’m not saying there is a problem with the cards,’ Hugh continued, ‘but . . .’

‘Be on my guard,’ I finished for him.

‘Yes,’ Hugh agreed. ‘Now, I’d like you to tell Mary about your vision. The event is obviously magical and distinct enough that she may know something that can help, either you or the kidnap victims.’

‘No stone unturned?’

‘Exactly.’

I laughed, deactivated the Privacy spell and Hugh explained what he wanted to Mary.

Mary looked intrigued. ‘You had a vision? Was that why you fainted?’

‘I don’t faint,’ I grumbled.

She grinned, getting out her notebook. ‘Fell over, then. Or tripped.’ She scratched a note, muttering, ‘Ms Taylor did not faint but tripped, and this enabled her to experience a vision.’ She looked up and gave me a beatific smile.

I stuck my tongue out.

‘Ladies, please.’ Hugh’s long-suffering sigh was belied by the amused glint in his eyes. We laughed, Mary took notes about the dead man in the snow and the young girl in collar and chain inside the circle, while I drew what I could remember of the glyphs.

Mary gave me a quizzical look. ‘You know I said Mum was looking into therianthropes in the witch archives? This was the ritual. I can ask her to compare the glyphs to check’ – she looked at Hugh – ‘if that’s okay with you, sir?’

‘It is,’ Hugh said. And as Mary took photos and emailed them, Hugh handily asked the question I wanted to. ‘Why was your mother looking at this particular ritual?’

‘There was an unauthorised user alarm on the private archives.’

I stiffened. I had a horrible feeling I knew who the ‘unauthorised user’ was— Katie: when she’d done her own werewolf research.

‘Mum was tracking what they’d been looking at,’ Mary carried on, ‘in case it was anything dangerous. There’s some pretty ancient spells in there. This is one of them.’ She cut me a look. ‘It’s part of that weretiger story I told you about.’

‘What weretiger story?’ Hugh asked, and Mary filled him in.

‘Um. When exactly did the unauthorised user access the archives?’ My question got me piercing stares from Hugh and Mary. I tried not to look guilty on Katie’s behalf, and no doubt failed.

‘The night of the “Harry Potter” spell in Leicester Square,’ Mary said, her cop gaze pinning me where I sat.

Damn. It had to be Katie. It was too much of a coincidence otherwise. ‘Okay,’ I said, ‘before you start interrogating me, if the ritual I saw of the girl in my “vision” chained up in the ash circle is the same one that was being looked at in the archives, what’s it for?’ I asked the question, though really I knew; I just wanted to be sure.