Something shoved me aside. The Irish wolfhound, wiry hair brushing my face as he leaped, snapped his jaws on the jade serpent. I stumbled, falling atop Werewolf Guy. For a moment he trapped me in his arms, holding me tight, then a flood of magic washed over me, spreading out over Trafalgar Square like the pressurised shockwave after an explosion. I glimpsed the hawk hovering; Mad Max shaking the serpent like a terrier with a rat—
Mad Max, the hawk and Werewolf Guy all vanished.
I sat on the stone edge of the left fountain, half-listening to the splash of water and the background rumble of traffic, as Mary, Dessa, and a dozen Peelers from the local police station finished taking statements. The Peelers had turned up a few minutes after it all went down, and along with the heritage wardens had managed to corral the majority of the bystanders into a makeshift witness waiting area, using the square’s café as their base. Even without the free tea/coffee/juice on offer, the majority were eager to hang around and recount everything exciting they’d seen.
And what they’d seen, according to Mary, came with the usual add-ons of imagination and conjecture. Some thought the hawk was an eagle, or a vulture, or even a remote control toy; Werewolf Guy’s hair colour was everything from blond, through red, to his actual black; and the ‘dogs’ varied from ‘a brace o’ wee terriers’ to a pack of rabid wolves— that particular witness was currently getting the third degree.
I was waiting to get my own third degree (as per Mary’s instructions) from Hugh. Waiting for Tavish to phone me back about the gold coin; I’d emailed him a set of pictures. And for Freya to shift from her doggy shape to human, which she was refusing to do. But most of all for Ana, Freya’s mum, to turn up.
I reached down to Freya, lying sphinx-like by my feet, ears pricked forwards as she watched the square with an unwavering doggy stare, and ran my fingers through her thick silky fur. It had dried in the sunshine, and I could just make out the darker tint on the ends, all that was left from when she’d magically dyed her hair green a couple of months ago. Attention seeking, Ana had told me with a long-suffering sigh. Freya’s dad had left during the ToLA case, after discovering what his brother, the deranged baby-making wizard behind all the abductions, had been up to. Supposedly, it had all come as a big shock to Freya’s dad.
Yep, and I was a goblin queen.
Freya grumbled low in her throat, flattening both ears in a sulky ‘leave me alone’ gesture. I stopped petting her. Where the hell was her mum? School was nearly finished for the day, Ana wasn’t here waiting for her daughter to arrive home, and all my calls kept getting her voicemail. My paranoid imagination was running riot, involving Ana in various awful scenarios with the Emperor, his werewolves, Bastien, or more likely, giving birth on the Underground.
I pushed my uneasy thoughts aside for another ten minutes until they hit critical, and dug Werewolf Guy’s gold coin in its clear plastic evidence bag out of my pocket (after a ‘discussion’, Mary had agreed I could hang on to it until Hugh said otherwise). I turned it over, examining it for any clues I might have missed the last twenty times I’d looked at it. It was a little larger than a pound coin, had a golden eagle on one side, a man’s head crowned with a laurel wreath on the other and Romulus Augustus writ Roman-style around the coin’s circumference. It didn’t take a genius to add coin and Werewolf Guy together, and come up with the Emperor, even without the face on the coin looking like the picture on the Emperor’s website.
Romulus Augustus was the last western Roman Emperor. His reign started on All Hallows’ Eve in 475 when he was around fifteen, and lasted for all of ten months, until he’d was deposed and shipped off to the Castel dell’Ovo on an island in the Gulf of Naples, from where he later ‘disappeared’ a.k.a. Accepted the Gift and became a vamp. Of course, Wikipedia didn’t mention the becoming a vamp bit. Or that the Emperor was Head Fang of Europe and Bastien’s master.
Or that the Emperor’s werewolves had just dog/spell-napped Mad Max instead of me.
‘Idiot dog,’ I murmured, wondering again why the hell he’d pushed me aside.
Freya nipped my ankle and regarded me out of accusing doggy eyes.
‘Not you, pup. Granddad Max.’
She whimpered then tucked her head on to her front paws.
I frowned down at her where she dozed in the sunshine, her black nose twitching occasionally. I could understand Mad Max sacrificing himself for his grandkid. But even with me donating my blood to Freya, there was no way I could see my self-seeking, use-anybody-and-don’t-give-a-fuck-who-gets-hurts cousin deciding to save me by playing snake-catching hero.
Hugh’s huge figure cut out the sun. ‘Maxim’s actions appear to be out of character,’ he said, echoing my own thoughts.
‘Yep,’ I agreed, looking up at Hugh’s ruddy face, deeply creased with worry. Two major incidents in less than a week were taking their toll. ‘Anything more from the witnesses?’ I asked, though to be honest I didn’t expect there to be. If there had been Hugh would’ve been acting on it, not talking to me.
He shook his head as he sat, large hands cradling a mug of milky coffee. He took a sip, then looked pointedly down at the dozing Freya. I got the message: we needed her to shift to talk, but she wouldn’t, and he had an idea to persuade her. I tilted my head to show I understood, and he started the ball rolling. ‘Run through what happened one more time for me, Genny.’
I did, ending with, ‘. . . the hawk threw the Snake spell, Max intercepted it, and was zapped away instead of me.’
Hugh nodded encouragingly. ‘So you think the hawk was using the Snake spell to remove you from the scene?’
‘Well, me or Werewolf Guy,’ I agreed. ‘We weren’t that far apart.’
‘Only the Snake spell didn’t touch the werewolf male, but he still vanished. So the spell was more likely for you.’
‘Yep, that’s what I thought too.’ I grimaced and held up the plastic evidence bag with its gold coin. ‘But that still doesn’t explain this, or why Werewolf Guy threw it at the dogs.’
Hugh held his hand out and I dropped it in his palm. He opened the bag and sniffed, lifted it up to catch the sunlight, then held it like he was weighing it. ‘It’s solid gold, and going by the smell, it’s as old as it looks.’ He sealed the bag and offered it back. ‘It’s probably an extremely valuable antique.’
I took it back. The plastic was slightly gritty from his skin. ‘So why throw it at a couple of dogs, even if he knew who they were?’
‘It could be payment of some kind.’
‘Payment? To Max for me?’
‘Yes. This looks like a classic set-up to me. Max uses Freya to get you here.’ Freya’s ears pricked up at her name. ‘The werewolf male tries to snatch you, your niece warns you and the plan goes pear-shaped.’
It actually made sense, especially if you knew Mad Max. ‘Why did he snatch the Snake spell, if he was part of the plot?’
‘You were callingthe spell, trying to catch it.’
‘Yeah.’
‘And if you caught it, it wouldn’t have worked, would it?’
‘No.’
‘So we’d have the spell as evidence, and would be able to trace it.’
Which was partly why I’d tried to catch it. That and not wanting to be taggedby an unknown spell, of course.
‘So,’ Hugh carried on, ‘Maxim catching the Snake spell before you could achieves two things.’ He held up two large fingers, and out the corner of my eye I saw Freya raise her head and fix Hugh with anxious eyes. ‘One: it makes sure no evidence is left, and two: Maxim is safely removed from the crime scene and not available to answer questions.’
I heaved an exaggerated sigh. ‘Sounds just like Maxim to cut and run when his plan goes wrong. Bet he turns up later with some story about how he escaped.’ Freya stood, ears back, hackles raised. I made a show of ignoring her. ‘So there’s not much point looking for him, is there?’