New Order (24 page)

I can tell I’ve piqued his interest although he tries to keep his expression bland. ‘Go on.’

‘One of your spells is about to be compromised.’

I leave my words hanging in the air, eventually forcing him to fill the silence. His eyes shift. ‘Which one?’

‘Give me fifteen minutes’ full access to your files on Frolic and I’ll tell you.’

He looks at me as if I’ve suddenly sprouted green horns. ‘Absolutely not.’

I shrug. ‘It’s your funeral. I hope you have decent liability insurance.’

O’Connell’s face twists. ‘How do I know you’re telling the truth?’

‘You don’t.’ My gaze is open.

‘Does Frolic know you’re doing this?’

I smile and cock my head. ‘She asked me to get the files for her. She didn’t give me any pointers as to how to go about it.’

‘She doesn’t know you’re here, talking directly to me?’

‘No.’

A muscle jerks in his cheek. ‘So why are you doing this? Why not break in and steal the files?’

‘I’ll be honest with you, I’ve not had much success in that area lately. But while I don’t like you, Mr O’Connell, and I don’t like Magix, I have no desire to see thousands of people suffer thanks to corporate espionage.’

‘What makes you think we won’t find the compromised spell now that we know about it?’

‘Go ahead,’ I say softly. ‘Be my guest. Try and find it on your own.’ I link my fingers together, giving the impression that I’m relaxed and uncaring. ‘How many spelled items do you sell, by the way?’

He frowns. ‘Our files are electronic. I’m not giving you access to our system.’

‘I can assure, Mr O’Connell, I’m no computer genius. You can stand over my shoulder and watch if you wish.’

‘For all I know you could send a virus to attack our entire system.’

‘I don’t have the knowhow.’

‘Perhaps not. But you may have others at your disposal who do.’

I think of Rogu3. I’m glad I didn’t involve him in this. ‘Those are my terms.’

He mulls it over. ‘No. It’s too dangerous. I’ll print out the files for you.’

‘How do I know you’ll give me full disclosure?’

He smiles. ‘You don’t.’

I sense that this is far as I’m going to get with him. I give an almost imperceptible nod. ‘Okay then. Give me the files and I’ll tell you where to look for the duff spell.’

O’Connell rises. I watch him vanish into a nearby office. This might actually work. I close my eyes for a moment. Something brushes past my cheek. I jump, snapping my eyes open. When I see who it is, I let out a quiet snarl.

‘Bloodguzzler,’ whispers the security guard.

‘What do you want?’

He reaches out stubby fingers and trails them down my cheek. I flinch and try to move away but my energy has been sapped to the point where my efforts are feeble. The guard fingers a loose curl.

‘Your boss is right over there,’ I tell him.

The guard’s eyes gleam. ‘He won’t mind.’

I have the horrible feeling he’s probably right. ‘You like your women tied up and helpless? Does that make you feel like a man?’ I taunt.

He ignores me. ‘I always wanted to fuck a vampire.’ He forces his index finger inside my mouth while his other hand travels to my breast and squeezes it painfully. ‘I’ve heard the turning makes your pussy tight, like a virgin’s.’

I open my mouth a little more and bite down as hard as I can on his finger. He screams like a stuck pig. ‘I might not have the use of my fangs, you prick,’ I spit, ‘but I can still bite.’

He pulls back a hand to punch me in the face. I prepare myself for the pain but O’Connell appears from behind and grabs his fist. ‘She’s only in those cuffs while she’s in our building. The moment she steps outside she’ll be free,’ he says to the guard. ‘Unless you want to spend the rest of your life hiding behind these four walls, I suggest you rethink your actions.’

The guard sags. ‘Yes sir,’ he mumbles. He stumbles away.

O’Connell bows. ‘I apologise. That shouldn’t have happened.’

I’m spitting fire. ‘Some great company this is. Is sexual assault always on the menu?’

‘I’ll have him removed immediately.’ From the expression in his eyes, he’s not just talking about giving the guard the sack.

‘And people worry about vampires,’ I hiss.

‘Don’t be so naïve, Ms Blackman. We humans may lack your physical superiority but we can be far more dangerous.’

Despite my revulsion, I pull the shreds of my dignity together. ‘I’m not a fucking monster. Fire him and hand him over to the police so they can make sure he doesn’t try this kind of thing on anyone else.’

O’Connell purses his lips. ‘If that’s what you want.’

I want to rip the guard’s throat out and watch him bleed to death. That’s the reason why victims should never be responsible for doling out punishment. Unable to trust myself, I glare at O’Connell.

He nods. ‘So be it.’ He tosses a manila folder into my lap. ‘Here are your files.’ There’s a glimmer of satisfaction in his face. ‘I’ve added in a little something extra, just for you.’

‘What do you mean?’ I ask warily.

‘We don’t just keep files on wannabe witches, Ms Blackman. There’s a sample in there of what else we have on offer. Information can be a valuable currency. If you wish for more, come and visit us again.’

‘You’re not giving it away for free.’

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘This taster, so to speak, is gratis. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement if you want more.’

‘Unlikely.’ I struggle to my feet, just avoiding toppling over.

‘Never say never. You were recruited by Montserrat, were you not?’

I look him directly in the eyes. I’ve had enough of this place. ‘You have a new line coming out.’ I look down at the handcuffs. ‘Other than your vampire inhibitors that is. Something to do with glamour spells?’

‘Yes. They’re more popular with men than women these days. Everyone wants to look,’ he pauses as if searching for the right word, ‘buff.’

‘There is going to be a problem with it,’ I say.

‘What’s the problem?’

‘Frolic has the ingredients. She’s trying to recruit someone to break in and subvert one of them.’

‘Thank you,’ O’Connell says, after a long moment. ‘Ms Swanson?’ he calls over my shoulder.

She moves up soundlessly. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘Free Ms Blackman. I believe she can be trusted to make her own way out.’

She passes a wand across my wrists and the cuffs unclasp and fall to the carpet. I rub my wrists. The sensation is rather like when X did his mind-sucking thing. I stretch my limbs and flex them carefully. There seem to be no side-effects; once the cuffs are removed, recovery is instantaneous.

‘Thank you,’ I mutter.

‘Please deliver a message to Frolic from me. Tell her that this is for the best. Her obsession with her little shop was unhealthy. She’s free now. She can do whatever she wants.’

‘What if she wants is to destroy you.’

He looks away. ‘She probably does,’ he says softly. ‘I’m not – we’re not – the bad guys, however. We’re making the world a safer place.’ There’s an appeal in his expression. ‘A better place.’

‘You’re making me feel all warm and fuzzy.’ I give him a false smile then, without another glance, turn and walk back to the lift. The guard who assaulted me is standing there, visibly shaking. I knee him swiftly in the groin. He screams in pain and collapses. Then I leave.

Chapter Sixteen: Tattoo Tales

I’m still trembling when I pull up several streets away. The anger I feel at the guard’s actions is almost overwhelming. I rub furiously at my cheek where he touched me. I’m a goddamn vampire – how does he treat human women? I make a note to check up on whether O’Connell makes good on his promise to hand the guard over to the police. If he doesn’t, this won’t be our only encounter. I calm down as best as I can, then walk into the twenty-four hour newsagents on the corner and use their photocopier to make a copy of the files on Frolic.

While I wait, I flick through the extra papers that O’Connell gave me. I stare in shock at the top sheet: it appears to be a printout of the Montserrat accounts. Not only am I aghast that anyone could access such information, let alone a dodgy place like Magix, but I’m stunned by the figures. The Montserrat Family has close to nine hundred million pounds in its coffers. I knew they are rich but that amount is staggering. If Magix chooses to release this information to the rest of the world, it’s hardly going to appease the masses.

Deciding not to look through the rest of the Montserrat papers, I roll them up and stuff them inside my leather jacket. I’ll pass them to Michael later and he can decide what to do; it’s not really my call. I buy an envelope and stamps, and mail the copy of Frolic’s files to my grandfather’s house. A little insurance never hurts.

Five minutes later, I paste a smile on my face and stroll into Belgrave police station. ‘Hi!’ I say cheerily. ‘Is Simon in?’

I receive a shocked look.

‘Yes,’ I say, without missing a beat, ‘I’m a vampire. I’m looking for Simon. I’m helping him with some inquiries.’ Well, technically he’s helping me, but what’s a misplaced pronoun or two?

‘Simon Beauvoit or Simon Raval?’

Bugger it. ‘The good-looking one.’ I wink, keeping my fingers crossed that I’m right. ‘In his forties perhaps?’

The sergeant glares at me suspiciously. Unfortunately for me he knows how to do his job properly. ‘Sergeant Raval or Inspector Beauvoit?’

I have a fifty-fifty shot. I take a stab in the dark and guess. ‘Sergeant Raval.’

‘I’ll see if he’s available. What’s your name?’

‘Bo Blackman.’

His head jerks. ‘Blackman?’

‘That’s what I said.’

His eyes narrow but he doesn’t comment on my lack of a Family name. I’m getting a bit tired of this routine. Maybe I should just abbreviate my name to Bo. If it works for Madonna and Prince, why can’t it work for me?

‘Please take a seat,’ he says finally.

I can feel the policeman’s eyes on my back as I turn. He definitely doesn’t trust me. The small room is almost identical to the one I was in with Michael when we handed over Samuel Lewis, aka Slick, the feather mugger. I wondering if there are particular guidelines for the premises, like McDonald’s, and the government is aiming for reassuring conformity. There’s a rack of shiny leaflets on one side of the wall, filled with recruitment pleas for special constables and tips on how to avoid being burgled. On the other side, there’s the desk sergeant’s spot and to the left of that a keypad-locked door leading into the station itself. As I stare at the door, something tugs at my memory and I frown.

The door opens and a kindly face appears. The wires in my brain connect and my insides turn to ice.

‘Ms Blackman? I’m Sergeant Raval.’

I know instinctively that this isn’t Dahlia’s Simon. He’s too old and too damned nice. At this point in time, however, I don’t care. I stand up and shake his hand. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve made a mistake.’

He looks confused but I don’t have time for niceties. I spin round and walk straight back out again. I remember now where I saw Frolic’s henchman from Hyde Park: he was in the police station when we brought in Samuel Lewis. He was leaving while we were scuffling around with Lewis and the helpful officer. He’d come out from the secure door then saw us and made an abrupt return inside‒ meaning he works for the police too. I dig through my memory, trying to remember everything from that night and think of the scrawled hex the other copper showed me during my second visit. He also told me where Samuel Lewis lives. Or rather lived.

I pat my jacket, making sure the original files are still there. It’s barely eleven o’clock; I’ve got bags of time before dawn and Easthouse Road is only a couple of miles away. I look back at the police station, feeling a trickle of guilt that I’m not putting more effort into Dahlia’s case. I can’t help thinking she’s probably safe and sound, and wrapped up between the legs of Inspector Simon Beauvoit rather than in danger. Besides, the faster I can sort out this mess with Frolic, the better.

I glance up and down the street to check I’m safe. There’s no one close. I swallow hard, wondering if I’m getting paranoid. The trouble is that I don’t think I am.

*              *              *

I make it to Easthouse Road in record time. Parking Ursus’s bike, I pocket the keys, sprint up to the fifth floor and hammer on the door. From within, I hear a baby’s cry. A tired looking girl barely out of her teens opens the door and stares out. Her hair is limp and there are dark circles under her eyes.

‘You woke my baby! Who the hell are you? Who the fuck…’ She pales and takes a step back as she registers that I’m a vampire.

‘I need to talk you about Samuel,’ I say urgently. For a moment she looks confused. ‘Slick!’ I amend. ‘Slick! I need to talk to you about Slick!’

‘He’s dead.’ Her voice is flat.

‘I know. Please, hear me out.’ The baby continues to wail. ‘Are you his wife?’

‘What if I am?’

‘Did he talk to you about what he was doing the night he died?’

‘No.’ She starts to close the door.

‘Wait! Please. Did he say anything at all? Were there any clues about what he was doing?’

‘He was on a job, alright?’

‘What kind of job?’

‘Look, he wasn’t an angel. I know that. Just go away,’ she mutters.

I shake my head. ‘I can’t do that.’ I take a deep breath and try to slow down. ‘What’s your name?’ She stares at me. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. I can’t even come in.’ I wave my hand at the threshold as if to prove it. ‘But I think I know who killed him.’

Her eyes are despondent. ‘What does it matter? He’s dead. Knowing who did it isn’t going to bring him back.’

‘No,’ I say softly. ‘But it might stop them from hurting anyone else.’

‘Suzanne,’ she says, ‘my name is Suzanne. Slick liked to call me Suze.’ Her eyes well up. ‘He wasn’t all that bad. He was a good father. He looked after us. He was just trying to make some extra money, that’s all.’

A knot of sympathy rises in my chest. ‘How?’

‘There was a woman. He was supposed to go after her and take some feather from her. He wouldn’t have hurt her. He wouldn’t have done that.’ Her hands tense by her sides. ‘It was just a shitty feather,’ she says quietly.