Mad Max shot me a fang-filled grin and drawled, ‘Sorry, love, no can do. Not till the old kelpie here says you’re not going to chew my face off.’
‘I’ve told you I won’t,’ I snapped. ‘I gave you my word.’
‘Aye, doll, but you’re nae the one in control,’ Tavish said, the beads on his dreads flashing from black to warning amber and back again, as they had since he’d first clapped eyes on me and seen not only my own golden soul but the red glow of Viviane’s too. Damn kelpie. If he’d keep his eyes on everyone’s shells instead of their souls, this would be so much easier. So far, for whatever reason, he’d missed Gold Cat. And no way was I planning on mentioning her after his kneejerk reaction to Viviane.
I threw my hands in the air and looked appealingly at Hugh. ‘Can’t you do something?’
Hugh shook his head silently. He’d bowed to Tavish’s greater experience about my so-called possession, though he didn’t look too happy about it; his ruddy face was creased with concerned crevices, and anxious red dust sprinkled his straight-up black hair and the broad shoulders of his pressed white shirt. Neither did Mary, standing to attention next to Hugh, her face watchful, her police-issue stun baton extended ready at her side. Backing them up were Dessa, Constable Taegrin, Lamber and the rest of the WPCs and trolls from the Met’s Magic and Murder Squad. If sheer numbers counted in rescuing the kidnap victims, they’d be safe already. As they weren’t, we were putting Mad Max’s ‘trap’ plan into action.
Once Mad Max had popped out of his doggy shape he’d told Hugh the details of the ‘trap’ to get me into the Forum. He was to send me through a replica of the Portal spell the Emperor’s werewolves had used to kidnap the victims from here at the zoo. Hugh was hoping that once the replica portal was open all his girls and boys in blue would follow me through but, in case that part of the plan didn’t pan out, Mary and the witches were aiming to recast the replica Portal spell once they’d seen it. The preparations had been going swimmingly right up till Tavish appeared and declared me possessed by Viviane.
I gritted my teeth, turned back to Tavish. ‘I’m the one in control, not Viviane.’
His lacy gills snapped shut against his throat. ‘Aye, well she’ll be letting you think that, but with Viviane in occupation, you cannae be.’
And whose fault it that?I wanted to yell at him. Yours! You should’ve said I was only supposed to give the tarot cards my bloodonce instead of taking off in a kelpie hissy fit. Instead, I stuck my hands on my hips. ‘Time’s running out. Max, you need to get in the circle and, Tavish, I want those cards. Now.’
In answer Tavish crouched, calleda flick-knife, sliced his finger and flung blood on to the circle marked on my blue plastic. The circle rose, sealing me in, its dome rippling turquoise like the Caribbean Sea in a stiff wind. Tavish straightened, threw his arms wide and started muttering. His eyes swirled the same turquoise colour, and power beaded like water on the green-black skin of his bare chest, trickling down to be soaked up by his black silk harem pants.
The frown on Hugh’s face deepened. ‘What are you doing, àrd-cheann?’
Trying to exorcise me,Viviane said cheerfully. You should tell him that only works when the spirit is in full possession. Something only a demon can truly achieve for more than a few hours.
‘I’m not interested in telling him anything he already knows,’ I muttered, slicing my index finger on my own knife, then jabbing my bloody finger at the watery dome. It popped, as I expected, like a kid’s balloon, thanks to the safety feature I’d built into it. And even as I glimpsed shock on Tavish’s face, I calledthe Stun spell from Mary’s baton and flicked it towards him. He jerked at the last minute and it glanced off his shoulder. It was still enough to take him to the floor in a flash of green lightning and a burst of burned mint.
‘Maxim Fyodor Zakharin,’ I shouted. ‘You are tasked to put my needs above all others, including yourself. I need you to get in this circle now.’
Mad Max’s jaw dropped as his legs moved of their own accord and marched him into the circle. As soon as he was in, I bent and touched my blood to the circle. This time the dome rose up with a shimmer of reddish-gold. I gave Tavish a suck-on-that smile.
Mad Max shook as if shedding water. ‘It seems it is truly you, Cousin.’ He sketched a bow. ‘As I am apparently at your command.’
Well, that pretty much confirmed my other suspicion. The text Malik had sent telling me I was dumped, and that I should talk to Mad Max if I needed anything, hadn’t come from Malik. But psycho Bastien. Malik hadn’t dumped me, though he had still cut me out of the loop when he’d ‘sent’ me home from the boating lake island, so we still had stuff to sort out. But hell, if the psycho prick was using Malik’s phone, it meant the beautiful vamp was in trouble.
I jabbed Mad Max in the chest. ‘What’s the sadistic bastard done with Malik? And don’t try to pretend you don’t know what I mean.’
He heaved a theatrical sigh. ‘Dogs are given commands, not information, cousin dearest.’
‘Dogs also have ears,’ I said.
‘Doesn’t mean they hear anything of interest.’
‘Bastien told me you would lead me to Malik,’ I snapped.
‘Me lead you to the Turk?’ Mad Max shrugged then tapped his head. ‘Sorry, don’t have that order in here, love.’
I glared at him, desperately wanting him to tell me where Malik was, to pound the information out of him. And knowing it would be a waste of my energy. ‘Well, that’s just crap,’ I muttered, frustrated.
He grinned jovially, then wrinkled his nose and sniffed. ‘Talking about the Turk, he’s not going to be a happy bunny that you stink of sex, satyr and fetid feline, Cousin. Whatever have you been up to?’
Damn vamp supersenses. ‘Nothing you need to know about,’ I said flatly, trying not to squirm and wishing I’d had time for a longer shower in the zoo’s staff facilities. At least Mary had a clean T-shirt and jeans ready for me. I poked Mad Max. ‘All you need to do is follow my orders.’
‘Then follow them I shall, love. I’ve always had a yen for woman with power.’ He raised a sardonic brow as he leaned forward and whispered, ‘Oh, what fun we could have, if not for the Turk and his Royal Brattiness.’
‘And the fact that I’d castrate you quicker than you could say “Poodle Power”,’ I snapped back.
‘Ouch.’ He shuddered dramatically and leaned away.
‘Okay, so now I need the tarot cards.’ I looked at Tavish, who was holding his no doubt numb arm and glowering at my circle. ‘You can see I’m myself, so you ready to give them to me yet?’
His beads turned murky grey with refusal. ‘Doll, I cannae give you the cards. You cannae trust yourself with Viviane. She’ll lead you astray afore you ken what she’s doing. She’s a leannán sidhe.’
‘Leannán sidhe!’ Mad Max’s eyes almost popped out of his head as he backed up until he hit my circle.
Viviane was one of the dark muses? Well, that explained her obsession with all things arty. And Mad Max’s panic and Tavish’s alarm. A leannán sidhe’s inspiration comes at a high cost: possible madness and early death, though usually nothing that could be pinned on the muse herself. Van Gogh, Marilyn Monroe and Alexander McQueen were all suspected victims of the leannán sidhe. Still, Viviane wasn’t likely to drive a non-human to a quick, iffy demise through an overload of inspiration so she could suck down their creative energies, but if she got her metaphorical claws in deep enough, she could probably send a vamp crazy. Not that it would make much difference in Mad Max’s case.
Which made me wonder what exactly she’d done to Tavish for him to trap her in a set of tarot cards for near enough quarter of a century. I asked.