The gems in his silver circlet glowed, the yellow stones shining like cats’ eyes in the dark, and Bobby’s face crumpled with pain. The jade chips embedded in the silver cuffs flashed green and bright, and his fingers spasmed open, releasing me. He thudded to the floor, whimpering, pink-tinged tears rolling down his cheeks as he curled into a foetal ball.
I gazed at him, wanting to help him, but knowing there was nothing I could do. I let my head fall back against the wall and took a deep breath, feeling guilt and remorse as well as frustration at his plight. Even without the restraints he was wearing, Bobby wouldn’t have been able to actually bite me, so I’d never been in any danger. I looked at the bloody scratch on my knuckles, then closed my eyes; it had been stupid to pull my hands away from him. I’d been taught better than that. Matilde, my stepmother, had drummed into me that struggling and running only got a vamp more excited. Of course, freezing wasn’t going to stop a vamp biting you if they were lost in bloodlust, but submitting might keep the vamp from killing you. But Bobby hadn’t been lost in bloodlust, he was just young, hungry and desperate, even before you threw in the ‘memory’ we’d just shared. I shuddered and slammed that thought away in a locked corner of my mind. So I should’ve remembered to stay calm and freeze.
‘Ms Taylor, are you all right?’ asked a male voice, soft and concerned.
My eyes snapped open and I blinked at the man in the smart grey suit hovering a few feet away, a worried look on his twentysomething face. His well-trimmed van Dyke and gelled highlighted hair looked familiar. Then I noticed the red Souler cross pinned to his lapel and I came up with a name: Neil Banner.
A Beater goblin, a nearly five-foot monster, was standing next to him.
‘Would you like Thaddeus here to assist you with the vampire, Ms Taylor?’ he asked.
Thaddeus the goblin hoisted his shiny aluminium baseball bat and bared his black serrated teeth in a warning grin; they glinted red where small cross-shaped rubies had been embedded. His long grey-and-red-streaked hair was bandaged like a horse’s tail so it stood a good eight inches straight up from his head, then cascaded down over his massive shoulders. His own red cross was pinned in pride of place above a dozen other badges, right in the centre of his chest. And over the usual Goblin Guard Securityuniform, his navy-blue boilersuit, he wore one of the Soulers’ grey tabards, again marked with a large red Crusader cross.
‘Just say the word, miss,’ Thaddeus growled in a voice deep enough to be a troll’s, ‘and I’ll make mincemeat of the sucker.’
I gave Bobby a sympathetic look where he was still curled on the floor. ‘I think he’d probably appreciate it more if we left him alone to recover, gentlemen.’ I slid my finger down my nose, offering Thaddeus the respectful goblin greeting along with a closed-lip smile; no way did I want him to think I was challenging him. ‘But thank you,’ I added politely. ‘If I ever need to make mincemeat out of a vampire, I’ll know who to call.’ I wasn’t joking either, and not just because Thaddeus stood head and shoulders—literally—over any other Beater goblin I’d seen. The standard-sized ones were ruthless enough; I imagined dealing with a pesky vamp would probably be like swatting an irritating fly for Thaddeus.
‘No problem, miss.’ Thaddeus’ grey wrinkled skin fell into sombre lines as he lowered his bat. He slid his own finger down his nose, returning my greeting.
Neil Banner smiled eagerly. ‘Ms Taylor, I wonder if I might have a word?’
I held my hands out, indicating my Glamoured appearance. ‘Only if you call me Debby,’ I said drily. ‘Debby-with-a-y, that is.’
‘Oh, of course.’ His smile widened. ‘I was forgetting you were incognito.’ He fished in his jacket pocket and produced a neatly folded handkerchief. He held it out to me. ‘Er, you’re still bleeding ...’
I took it from him. ‘Thanks.’ I dabbed at my hand, frowning. He’d obviously had his Crusaders and their pet Gatherer goblins out looking for me—the poodle-perm Souler who’d taken my picture with her phone on the Underground was evidence of that—but just to be sure, I asked the question anyway. ‘I’m curious, how did you recognise me?’
He pulled out his phone, thumbed the keyboard and held it out to me. The screen showed a picture of my Glamoured self. ‘I had a little help.’ He smiled sheepishly. ‘And I apologise for the cloak-and-dagger antics, but it’s important that I speak with you, and with the situation as it is, I assumed, rightly as it turned out, that sooner or later you’d use the Underground, or come here. And quite possibly be in disguise. And of course, there’s not much magic that can fool a goblin’s nose.’
Why was he babbling? ‘I take it you’re not going to inform the police of my whereabouts?’
‘Er, not at this moment, no.’ His smile wilted a bit round the edges.
Which made whatever he wanted vaguely threatening. ‘What is it you want to talk about that’s so important, Mr Banner?’ I said calmly.
‘It’s a rather delicate, Ms—’ He clasped his hands together nervously. ‘Um ... I think you might have something in your possession that belongs to our Order. As we’ve met previously, my superiors decided it might be easier if I approached you instead of a stranger.’
‘So what’s the item?’
‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to tell you,’ he said apologetically. ‘All I can say is that the item was a bequest to the Order from someone recently deceased. The solicitor dealing with the will maintains that it is in your safekeeping.’
I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘Why all the mystery, Mr Banner?’
‘The item is important, apparently, so you’ll know if you have it or not.’ He was practically wringing his hands. ‘But my superiors don’t want any information about the item becoming public knowledge.’
‘In other words they don’t trust me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he rushed on, ‘I advocated being straight with you, I told them that you saved my life at risk of your own when that vampire attacked me, that you deserved to be told everything, but—’
‘I’m a suspected murderer on the run. Don’t worry, I get it. It hardly makes me trustworthy material, does it?’
His cheeks coloured hot with embarrassment.
‘Thought so.’ I checked my hand where Bobby’s fangs had caught it. The skin had scabbed over already.
I gave Thaddeus an appraising look. Beater goblins were usually employed in Sucker Town, a private police force paid for out of the vampires’ pockets to keep the night-time streets safe for human visitors. It’s not such a contradiction as the idea suggests, since goblins are all about the job, right down to the last full stop on the contract. Although the Soulers are the only humans that use Beaters instead of the smaller, more acceptable Monitor goblins for any business dealings involving vampires or magic, since turning up with a baseball-bat-toting bodyguard is notthe way to engender trustful relations. So Neil Banner searching for me with a monster Beater goblin at his side wasn’t that surprising ... but then he’d mentioned our first meeting. That time he’d only warranted an inexperienced, imported goblin as a minder, even though he’d been mixing with the Earl and a couple of his fang-pals. Either his standing within the Order had gone up in the last month, or his errand was of prime importance. And once I started thinking of the Earl, it didn’t take much to put it all together. He was the only one I knew who had died recently and who had given me something of value.
The Fabergé egg.
My bullshit antenna twitched. Why would a vampire leave a religious organisation such a legacy—especially when said organisation believed that vampirism was evil and anyone who accepted the Gift was destined for Hell? And apart from anything else, the Earl had been around for eight hundred-odd centuries, so I doubt he’d expected to die when he did.