Red Angel (22 page)

‘So do MI7. And they knew nothing about it.’

‘They’re not as competent as they like to think.’

‘Actually,’ I say quietly, thinking of my grandfather, ‘they are. You doctored that photo yourself, didn’t you? A bit of Photoshop to throw anyone off the scent who came calling. You really did plan things out carefully. One might almost say with military precision.’

She folds her arms. ‘The photo wasn’t for someone like you,’ she says finally.

‘It was for the people you hired, right? In case they got curious and thought there could be more in it for them?’

For a moment, I think she’s not going to answer. Then she takes a deep breath and nods reluctantly. ‘I wanted to keep them under control. They’re mercenaries, their bottom line is money. I paid them enough to draw them in and to make them think there was a lot more. And that I knew exactly where it was.’

‘Because you had access to secret military files, not because you are Tobias Renfrew’s legitimate heir.’

‘If they knew that, don’t you think they’d have treated me rather differently?’ she enquires. ‘I’d have become their toy instead of the other way around.’ Her face shadows. ‘Maybe that would have been best.’

‘Tobias Renfrew’s fortune is locked away. Where did you get the gold from?’

‘My nanny had access to some funds he’d hidden away. She didn’t use them for herself. She was a good woman who gave up her life to look after me. I was only ten months old when my parents were murdered.’ Something inside me responds to her words but I don’t let my expression betray my thoughts. Arbuckle continues. ‘She died four months ago.’

‘Right before Madeline Gregory was murdered,’ I say, suddenly understanding. ‘You waited until your nanny was dead before you took your revenge.’

Arbuckle closes her eyes for a moment. ‘She wouldn’t have liked it. She thought the past should stay in the past. And she wanted to keep me safe.’

So much for that then. ‘I’ve learnt quite a lot about revenge since I became a vampire,’ I tell her. ‘The ins and outs of it. The way it can consume people and make them act out of character.’ Dahlia’s face flashes into my mind. ‘I do understand it. I understand how it can become a driving force. Hurting the trustees makes sense. They destroyed the life you could have had. Chopping off their children’s ears and piercing them with a ruby also makes sense. You wanted to give them a sign and make them think that Tobias Renfrew was after them. It would have scared them shitless.’ I purse my lips. There’s a symmetry to that last action that’s almost artistic. I clear my throat. ‘What I don’t understand, Colonel, is why you’d want the children dead. Their parents certainly. But their kids? They did nothing wrong.’

Arbuckle stares at me. ‘That’s not what you really want to know, is it? You want to know why I had the Agathos Court bombed, why I had a school attacked. Why you had a rescue a teenage boy from certain death.’

I tighten my jaw. ‘OK,’ I say. ‘You’re right. That is what I want to know.’

She leans against the trunk of a nearby tree. For the first time her shoulders slump and she rubs a hand across her forehead. It might be the only honest emotion I’ve seen from her.

‘Oh.’ I exhale loudly. ‘You
didn’t
want that.’

‘It’s my fault though,’ she says simply. ‘I dangled the carrot of my father’s money in front of those mercenaries’ eyes and that’s all they saw. I told them he’d hidden away lots of gold and it was theirs if they did what I wanted. And I wanted the trustees scared, I wanted them to be aware that someone knew what they’d done. They’d live out the rest of their lives in terror. Their children could lose an ear for that. I didn’t want those Trustees to know it was coming though. I had special envelopes made up, the kind people leave donations in. Checkers Children’s Charity. Hah!’ she scoffs. ‘I wanted their reaction when they opened the envelope and saw the ear to be one not only of fear but also total shock. So I told the mercenaries that if any of the trustees caught wind of what was going on before it happened, they’d get nothing. It didn’t occur to me that they’d kill the trustees’ children to make doubly certain of secrecy.’

And when O’Shea discovered the first ear in the pocket of a one-night stand and stole it, all hell broke loose. The mercs proved once and for all that they were prepared to do anything to get their hands on Renfrew’s hidden fortune.

‘Money,’ I say disgustedly. ‘That’s what it boils down to. The trustees killed your mother because they wanted your father’s money. The mercs you hired tried to kill everyone because they wanted it too.’ I eye her suspiciously. ‘Why did you hire D’Argneau to get Creed and Wyatt off?’

Arbuckle shrugs. ‘The others were already dead or in Venezuela. I really don’t understand why they came back ‒ after more of my father’s fortune, I suppose.’ I keep quiet. ‘Creed and Wyatt almost managed to stay anonymous. They weren’t going to quit though, not when they thought they could get all the money for themselves. I hired that lawyer because I knew he was good. He’d get them set free and then I could take care of them.’

‘By killing them.’

‘They weren’t going to stop,’ she says, trying to explain, an odd pleading expression crossing her face. ‘Sooner or later they were going to do something that no barrister could free them from then they’d give up my name in exchange for time off their sentence and I’d end up being punished. And I really didn’t want anyone to die. Not when I started this, anyway.’

I think about this. ‘Bullshit,’ I say finally. ‘If you’d said that to the mercs and made it clear there was more money in it for them if they
didn’t
murder anyone, then they’d have stuck to that. I know you only hired Creed and Wyatt after the others failed so spectacularly. They weren’t part of the original plan and they still committed murder. Even if you can’t admit it to yourself, it’s what you really wanted.’

Arbuckle is silent for a long moment. ‘Maybe all of us are lying to ourselves. We all want the people who hurt us to suffer.’

I grip my pebble. ‘Most people don’t act on those kind of thoughts.’

She regards me steadily. ‘You know, I misjudged you, Ms Blackman. I thought you’d back off when I sent you the gold.’

‘Money doesn’t drive me.’

‘You could have used it to buy your little daemon friend a new car. I saw it, you know, out by the warehouse.’

‘You were there, weren’t you? You met up with Creed and Wyatt before the police arrived and you took McIntosh’s body and his ear. You cleaned up the scene at Renfrew’s mansion too.  That’s why it was so perfect.  The army is used to having to clean up after itself. ’

For a second, a tiny smile plays around her lips. ‘I didn’t want it to happen but there’s still something satisfying about knowing that as far as Andrew McIntosh is concerned, his son is probably dead. He can’t be sure though. His son will always be missing. Just like my father.’

‘His ear?’

She shrugs. ‘I stuck it in the post. It’s not ideal and someone else might get suspicious and open it before it gets to him. Under the circumstances, though, it’s the best I could manage.’

‘All this for two people who you never really knew, even if they were your parents.’ I shake my head.

Arbuckle looks at me steadily, her eyes clear and guilt-free. ‘And the life I could have had.’

‘Does it make you feel better?’ I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. ‘Hurting the trustees, I mean. Is revenge sweet?’

She smiles. ‘Despite the path those idiot mercenaries took, it is actually. That’s why I’m sorry I have to do this now.’

I raise up an eyebrow. ‘Do what?’

Arbuckle reaches behind her back, calmly produces a gun and points it at me. ‘Kill you. You really shouldn’t have got involved.’

‘I was involved when my friend was almost killed.’

‘But he wasn’t. He survived and he’ll get over it. My mother didn’t. My father didn’t.’

‘Except,’ I say, smiling back at her, ‘your father did survive.’

Her smile falters slightly. Then she sets her jaw. ‘Nice try. He’s dead.’

‘No,’ I tell her. ‘He’s not.’

Confusion clouds her face then she sets her jaw. ‘He loved me. If he were alive, he’d have found me. I know that much.’

‘He thought you were dead, Colonel. Deutscher and the others thought your mother was pregnant. They didn’t realise she’d already given birth. When they killed her, they thought they were killing you too. A tiny foetus, not big enough to be visible. When Renfrew confronted them, they told him they’d killed Hope Havrington and her baby. He believed them because
they
believed it. The only reason I knew you existed is because I found a time orb. I made a bubble and used it at your father’s mansion and I saw your nursery and your crib. No one buys baby stuff and kits out a room when they’re not even showing signs of pregnancy. It tempts fate.’

Arbuckle blinks rapidly. ‘None of that means he’s alive. He’d have made himself known to someone by now. It’s been over fifty years, for goodness’ sake!’

‘Kill me and you’ll never know.’ I shrug. ‘Your choice.’

It’s more than an hour later when Arbuckle and I arrive outside the gates of the Black Market. I’m relieved to see that this time it’s free of dodgy black witches hanging around at the front.

‘If you’re playing me for a fool, Blackman, I’ll shoot you where you stand.’

I laugh. Considering that’s what she was planning to do anyway, I can’t see why I should be scared of her threat now. I reckon I have a fairly good chance of avoiding being shot; I’m stronger and faster than she thinks.

‘I’m telling you the truth. Come on. It’s this way.’

I lead her inside, weaving in and out of the stalls. We pass the creepy woman with her creepy snow globes; we ignore the purred sales pitches about spells and faked goods. I stroll along the narrow aisles as if I don’t have a care in the world. Arbuckle marches like she’s on sodding parade.

I find Merlin’s embroidered tent. Out of politeness, I step aside and gesture to Arbuckle to go ahead of me. She curls her lip, as if to indicate that she’s not that much of a fool. I shrug and go in first. Sitting round a hubble-bubble pipe are O’Shea, Connor and Merlin. I can’t see the painting.

‘Ms Blackman!’ Merlin coos. ‘Good to see you again. And who’s your friend?’

Alarmed when he spots Arbuckle, O’Shea jumps to his feet. ‘What’s she doing here? We’re not doing anything illegal! The army has no jurisdiction here!’

‘Shh,’ I tell him. ‘It’s OK. I’d like you to meet Tobias Renfrew’s daughter.’

Every one of them looks shocked; even Merlin’s mouth drops open. He recovers quickly though, putting on a charming smile and holding out his hand. ‘Ms Renfrew. What a delight!’

Arbuckle eyes him as if he were a snake but when he doesn’t react to her animosity she softens, no doubt disarmed by his brilliant grin. Sociopath or not, the man knows how to schmooze. ‘Call me Hope,’ she mutters.

I start slightly at her first name, although I should have guessed it. Noting my reaction, she turns to me. ‘I’d have been called Tobias if I were a boy. My nanny changed my surname to keep me hidden but I’m proud to have my mother’s name.’ There’s a defiant tilt to her chin as if she’s daring me to disagree.

I watch her as she nods in greeting to O’Shea and shakes hands with Connor. For all that she’s done, I can’t think of her as an evil person. I understand how much the desire for revenge must have burned inside her. Her own secret desires aside, I think she probably did just hire the wrong people. Someone with more honest intentions might have steered her down a different path. She could still have taken her revenge but it wouldn’t have involved the death of innocents, or out-and-out terrorism. Or the severing of ears.

‘So,’ Arbuckle says, looking around, ‘where exactly is my father?’

Merlin lifts his hands in the air with a dramatic flourish. ‘It’s so obvious! I can’t believe no one noticed until now.’ He shakes his head. ‘Honestly!’

Arbuckle draws herself up. ‘It’s not obvious to me.’

Merlin glances at me and winks. ‘Can I keep it? It’ll go nicely with my other piece.’

I fold my arms. ‘No. Bring the damn thing out.’ I narrow my eyes at Arbuckle. ‘You need to give me your gun first.’ I think I have this situation under control but there’s no telling what Arbuckle will do when she discovers the truth.

She frowns at me, obviously unwilling to let go of her weapon. When I harden my gaze, she places the gun on a shelf nearby. She angles her body so that I can’t get to it without going through her first.

Both O’Shea and Connor are frowning at me. It takes O’Shea a moment; his gaze drifts to the painting on Merlin’s wall, then to my face. It’s pretty damn obvious when it hits him because his expression is almost comical with shock. ‘No!’

I nod. ‘Yes.’

Connor kicks him. ‘What?’

‘The painting. Tobias Renfrew is in the fucking painting.’

Arbuckle stiffens. ‘What the hell do you mean?’

Merlin reaches down behind the table and brings up the picture from Renfrew’s mansion. ‘Here,’ he says. ‘Meet your father.’

Even though I already know the truth, I join the others in staring at it. Renfrew’s back is still turned. Unlike the figures in Merlin’s other painting, who stare out as if pleading for someone to help them, Renfrew doesn’t seem to care.

‘He must have done it to himself,’ I murmur. ‘Without Hope and their child, he couldn’t see any point in continuing. He trapped himself inside the picture.’

Merlin purses his lips. ‘It’s a theory,’ he says cheerfully.

‘Daddy?’ Arbuckle whispers in a small, childish voice. I look at her, surprised. Her expression combines disbelief with desperate desire. She can’t believe the little painted figure is him but she doesn’t want to believe it’s not.

‘I don’t get it,’ Connor says. ‘If things were that bad for him, why didn’t he just top himself? It’d be far less painful in the long run.’

‘Maybe he wanted to punish himself,’ I suggest. ‘He’s the one who got involved with Checkers in the first place. Perhaps he thought it was his fault and he deserved to suffer.’

‘And he happened to have that spell hanging around where he could get to it in a hurry?’

I drop my voice. ‘Maybe he had it on him because he was planning to use it on someone else.’

O’Shea nods. ‘You’re right. They changed his clothes, didn’t they? The trustees. They put him into an old tuxedo. The spell could have been in the pocket. Maybe he was going to use it on some other poor devil and changed his mind. And he never got around to disposing of it.’

We all look at Renfrew’s back again. ‘Talk about your chickens coming home to roost,’ Connor says.

‘Shut up!’ Arbuckle shouts. ‘Just shut up! My father was not a bad man!’

‘He was involved in the black market arms trade,’ I point out.

‘Fuck you!’ she spits. ‘What would you know about it?’

I’m tempted to tell her that I also know his daughter has incited terrorist activity. Instead, I keep my mouth shut.

She snaps out her hands, grabbing Merlin by his collar and yanking him forward until his face is inches away from hers. ‘How do we get him out? What do we do?’

The witch is not in the slightest bit fazed. He raises his eyebrows at me. I take three steps back, reach into my pocket and take out the pebble. I stare at it for a moment, then put it away again.

‘Bo,’ O’Shea begins, dismay written all over his face.

‘It’s fine,’ I tell him. ‘It’s absolutely fine. There’s no doubt that Tobias Renfrew was responsible for a lot of criminal acts in his day, regardless of what the good Colonel wants to believe. He’s been imprisoned for them. Maybe he deserves it.’

Arbuckle spins round and punches me on the side of my head. I could have ducked but it seemed fairer to let her have her shot. At least she can think about that when she’s imprisoned. There’s an odd crunching sound: I think my cheekbone has fractured. She certainly packs a wallop.

I shake my head to get rid of the searing pain and meet O’Shea’s eyes. He tightens his lips and gives an almost imperceptible nod. We both know it wasn’t Tobias Renfrew I was talking about.

Merlin claps his hands. He’s probably glad that he wasn’t the one on the receiving end of Arbuckle’s fist. ‘As it happens,’ he beams gleefully, ‘I do have a spell that’s meant to release such captives.’ He holds up his index finger. ‘I can’t guarantee that it will work though.’

I put my hand to my cheek and wince then stare meaningfully at Arbuckle. If she does this, it has to be of her own free will. ‘Not every spell works,’ I say, while O’Shea sucks in a breath. ‘And some of them have very nasty side-effects.’

She looks at me scornfully. ‘You don’t want him to be freed. It’s been well over fifty years! He’ll be an old man. He’s not going to hurt a soul.’ She lifts up her chin and addresses Merlin. ‘Do it.’

‘It tends to work better when someone close to the subject performs the spell,’ he says amiably. He takes a wrapped scroll from his robe and passes it over. ‘Just read the words.’

There’s something sickening about the anticipation in his expression. I bite my bottom lip. I promised Rogu3 I’d punish the person responsible for the attack on him. Arbuckle’s actions have caused a lot of deaths; she deserves to pay for them. Doubt gnaws at me, though. Maybe she doesn’t deserve to pay for them like this. ‘Actually,’ I interject, ‘you shouldn’t do this. The thing is…’

Arbuckle twists round and hits me again. This time I wasn’t expecting it; she connects with my already broken cheekbone and I reel backwards. Both O’Shea and Connor dash over to me while Arbuckle unwraps the scroll. She starts to chant.

‘No!’ I protest. ‘Don’t…’

There’s a flash of light and a strange crack as if of thunder. It’s too late. She’s already gone.

‘Where the hell did she go?’ Connor asks, bewildered.

Merlin, O’Shea and I turn to the painting. There, next to the door of the little farmhouse, is a small uniformed figure. I squeeze my eyes shut.

‘That’s not … but that can’t be … but…’ Connor stammers. Nobody responds. ‘You knew this was going to happen.’ His voice is filled with disbelief.

I open my eyes and stare helplessly at him.

‘Bo, you did that deliberately? How could you?’

I can’t bear to see the pained disappointment in his expression. He looks at O’Shea. ‘You knew too?’

‘Connor…’ O’Shea puts a hand out to touch his shoulder but he pulls back.

‘Is that what we do now?’ he yells. ‘We take revenge on people? What happened to due process?’

‘She did it, Connor. She hired the mercenaries that attacked the Court and Rogu3. She’s responsible for the deaths of the trustees’ children. She would have tried to kill me if I hadn’t brought her here.’

‘That doesn’t make it right!’

As I try to avoid his horror-filled gaze, my phone beeps. Worried that it might be the hospital, I pull it out and read the message. Then I hold it out to Connor. ‘There,’ I say quietly. ‘The three bastards who hid in Venezuela have been released. Charges are going ahead but they’ve been granted bail ‒ even though they’ve already fled once. Harry D’Argneau did his job.’

‘That doesn’t mean that she’d have got off,’ Connor says, wrapping his arms around himself and backing away as if he’s fearful of what we’ll do.

O’Shea tries again. ‘Connor, she knew there might be side effects. She knew…’

Connor whirls away. ‘That’s bullshit and you know it! I thought you’d turned over a new leaf, Dev. I thought things were going to be different.’

O’Shea opens his mouth to answer but it’s too much for Connor. He throws his hands up in the air and pushes past me, shoving the folds of the tent’s exit aside as he leaves.

‘Now that,’ says Merlin, ‘is why I prefer canvas to solid wood.’ He shudders. ‘It’s just so loud when people get annoyed and start slamming doors.’

O’Shea and I look at him with loathing. The daemon turns to me, a pleading expression in his eyes. ‘Go,’ I tell him. ‘Go after him.’ He sprints out in Connor’s wake.

Merlin knits his fingers together. ‘Are you sure I can’t tempt you to sell me this?’ He strokes the edge of the painting with one finger. ‘I’ll give you a good price.’

I pick it up. ‘No.’

‘What are you going to do with it?’

I consider. I should pass it over to Rogu3 but I don’t want to infect him with its negativity. I’ll simply let him know that the matter has been taken care of. ‘I’ll put it back where it belongs,’ I say. At least Tobias and Hope will be at home, as well as together.

Then I grab Arbuckle’s gun, tuck it under my waistband at my back and walk out.

*

I’m at the gates to the Black Market when my phone rings. It’s Michael. Assuming he’s calling to inform me of D’Argneau’s deeds, I answer it. ‘Hey,’ I say. ‘I already know. D’Argneau sent me a text.’

‘What?’ He sounds baffled.

‘Rogu3’s attackers have been released on bail.’

There’s a moment of silence. ‘That’s not why I’m calling.’

Dread taps on my spine. I curl my fingers tightly round the phone. ‘Then what? My grandfather?’ My voice rises to a screech. ‘Is it my grandfather?’

He sighs. ‘I’m outside the hospital. They wouldn’t let me call from your grandfather’s room.’

My mouth works as I try to find the words. ‘What?’ It’s barely audible.

‘He’s taken a turn for the worse.’

‘He’s dying?’ Sharp pain, far worse than anything I’m feeling in my cheek, wrenches at my heart. My knees buckle.

Michael doesn’t answer my question directly. ‘Bo,’ he says softly, ‘he’s slipped into a coma. His prognosis is … not good.’

The night air feels as if it’s closing in around me. I can’t move. I can barely breathe.

‘Bo? Where are you? I’ll come and pick you up.’

‘I’m going to kill her,’ I whisper.

‘Pardon?’

I grit my teeth and raise my voice. ‘I said, I’m going to kill her.’

‘The lab results still aren’t through. You don’t know that it was her.’

But I do know. I’m not sure how, but I can feel it deep inside me: Dahlia poisoned him. Now she’s going to pay.