The Spy Who Haunted Me

“And I suppose you feel the need for a big strong man to look after you,” I said. “To protect you from the nasty monster.”

“Exactly!” Katt snuggled in close again and looked up at me from under heavily mascaraed eyelids. “I don’t do mysteries, I don’t fight monsters, and I very definitely don’t do roughing it. I mean, come on; what am I supposed to do if we should find a monster here? Chuck it under the chin and beguile it with my famous charms?”

“If anyone could, you could,” I said generously.

Katt sighed. “I don’t know why Alexander ever thought to choose me for his precious contest.”

“I think the idea is, we’re supposed to learn to work as a group, calling on our various talents as required,” I said. “All of us working together, for the greater good.”

“Until we have to betray each other,” said Katt.

I smiled at her. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that. Now, if I could have my arm back, please? I have no intention of getting close to you, in any sense of the word. I would quite like to die in bed, but preferably of old age. So do us both a favour and go vamp somebody else.”

She smiled su

She strode off, still somehow sure-footed and graceful even on the muddy bank of the loch. She was heading for Walker, and I mentally wished him the best of luck. I moved over to stand beside Honey, who was staring suspiciously out over the dark unmoving waters of the loch as though she suspected them of pla

“We have to get organised,” she said, acknowledging my presence without looking around. “We’re on a deadline, and the clock is ticking. Alexander didn’t look as bad as I’d been led to expect, but we have no way of knowing how accurate that vision was. He could go at any time and take all his secrets with him, the selfish bastard. He has a duty to hand over his hoarded information to those best suited to make good use of it. Not make it the prize in a stupid game.”

“I don’t think Alexander King has ever been very strong on duty,” I said.

She glanced at me and smiled briefly. “We’d better work together on this, Eddie. We’re the only real professionals in this group.”

“There’s Walker,” I said.

“Too much of an unknown quantity. Never trust anyone from the Nightside.”

“And the Blue Fairy might just surprise us.”

“Never trust an elf.”

I had to smile. “Come on, Honey. You’re CIA. You don’t trust anyone.”

She looked at me severely. “You have to trust someone, or you’ll never get anything done. The day of the independent operative is over, Eddie. The world’s grown too big, too complicated, for the lone wolf following hunches and instincts. Only big organisations have the resources to deal with today’s problems.”

“My family would agree with you,” I said. “But I’ve always had problems with my family.”

“So I’ve heard,” said Honey. “Why do you do it, Eddie? Why do the Droods feel they have the right to run roughshod over the whole world?”

“Because we’ve been doing it for hundreds of years,” I said. “And we’re very good at it.”

“Not always,” said Honey.

“Well,” I said. “No one wants to be insufferable.”

She laughed. It was a free, easy sound, utterly at odds with her determined stance and coolly professional face.

“You give your whole life to this, don’t you?” she said. “All you Droods. You play the game till it kills you, or till you drop in your tracks. Why would you do that?”

“Someone has to,” I said.

“No, really. Why?”

“Really?” I considered the question. “Duty. Responsibility. Or maybe just because for all its treacheries and dangers, it’s still the best game in the world. The only one worthy of our talents. Why do you do it?”

“Oh, hell, Eddie, it’s just a job. A way up the ladder, towards getting on and moving up. I’m going to be somebody, doing things that matter. Making the decisions that matter.” She glanced at me. “You Droods don’t care about politics. The rest of us don’t have that luxury.” She looked out over the loch again, making it clear with her body language that the subject was closed. “So, how do you find one monster in a lake this size?”

“Good question,” I said.

Out of the corner of my eye, I was watching Katt try out her charms on Walker. (It’s a poor secret agent who can’t think about two things at the same time.) Katt kept trying to slip her arm through Walker’s, and he kept dodging her without quite seeming to be aware that he was doing it. Finally he turned and looked at her, and she actually fell back a pace. Even at a distance, I could feel the chill in his gaze, colder than the Scottish air could ever be. He said something, and Katt reacted as though she’d been struck in the face. She gave Walker a quick professional smile, turned her back on him, and stalked away with her nose in the air. Walker went back to studying the loch, his face calm and thoughtful and entirely untroubled. I decided I’d better keep a watchful eye on Walker. Anyone who could stare down Lethal Harmony of Kathmandu and send her ru

Katt stalked right past the Blue Fairy without even glancing in his direction, presumably because she knew all her charms and skills would be wasted on the famously homosexual half elf. She had nothing that would interest him, except perhaps fashion tips. Honey was saying something useful but boring about the necessity for taking direct action, but I was still watching the Blue Fairy. All of us looked out of place in this wild and savage setting, but he looked more than usually lost. He had his hands thrust deep into his belt, and his chin was buried in his wilting ruff as he glowered at the muddy ground before him. He looked tired, and alone, and out of his depth. My first reaction was Good. Serves him right.

But . . . I’d known Blue a long time, on and off. I liked him, trusted him, gave him a chance to be a hero in the Hungry Gods War. He turned his back on that, and on me, just for a chance to ingratiate himself with his arrogant elf kindred. I should have known . . . and I should have known better. The Blue Fairy’s whole history was one of broken words, cold-blooded betrayal, and falling short. He liked to say he was somebody, back in the day, but truth be told he wasn’t, though he could have been . . . if he hadn’t thrown it all away, indulging his many weaknesses. And he was half-elf. Never trust an elf. Everyone knows that. I really shouldn’t take it personally that he let me down in front of my whole family after I vouched for him. That he made me look bad.

That was what the Blue Fairy did.

He stole a torc from the Droods and got away with it. You had to admire him for that. No one else had ever managed it. Give the man credit for thinking big. And I of all people understood the demands of family; the need almost despite yourself to belong, to be accepted . . . and all the stupid self-destructive things that could drive a man to. So I left Honey talking authoritatively to herself and strolled over to join the Blue Fairy. I didn’t hurry. I wanted to give him time to move away, if he wanted. But he just looked around as he sensed me approaching, raised one hand briefly to the golden torc at his throat, and then turned almost defiantly to face me. His head came up, his mouth firmed, and he stood his ground. He’d come a long way from the broken, defeated man I’d found more dead than alive in a pokey little flat in Wimbledon. If nothing else, it seemed his time at the Fae Court had put some backbone into him.

I stopped a respectful distance away and nodded briskly. “Cold day,” I said. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a flask of something bracing about you?”