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And since offence is the best defence, I bared my teeth in a smile and waved at the imperial pair. ‘Nice party, guys,’ I called. ‘Thanks for the invite.’
‘Genevieve Nataliya Zakharinova,’ the Emperor said in a soft voice that sent shivers skittering down my spine. ‘You are due this.’ He leaned forwards and tossed something at me. It skimmed through the air and landed in the circle at my feet.
A gold coin.
I looked up. ‘You’re not exactly going for subtle, are you?’
‘I have no need to,’ he said, and sat back.
The tent nearest to the stage vanished. In its place was a giant circular birdcage.
Inside the cage was Katie.
She was sitting, hugging her knees to her chest, long blonde hair scraped back in a messy, high ponytail. A vamp centurion crouched behind her, his grasp on her ponytail holding her head up so her grubby, tear-stained face was easily seen, as was the thick leather collar with its iron chain around her throat. She was inside a circle of ashes.
Rage and fear slammed into me, my vision blurred and somewhere nearby I could hear a low, menacing growl. It wasn’t until another centurion loomed in front of me brandishing his fangs and snapping his fingers an inch from my face, as he demanded I be quiet, that I realised I was the one growling.
I clenched my fists and swallowed the growl back. I took a deep breath, concentrating on calming my frenzied heart. I needed my wits if I was going to save Katie.
Save kits.A snarl in my head agreed. Save both kits.
Both kits? I swiped a hand over my eyes to clear my vision, vaguely surprised as it came away wet, and saw the cage’s other occupant. He was lying just outside the circle Katie was in, a similar leather collar and iron chain around his throat, dark hair matted where he’d obviously been bludgeoned, and pale face smeared with dried blood. Marc. Big-cat-shifter and Katie’s treacherousso-called-boyfriend—
Want help break mate bond, Fi
‘ Fine. I won’t hurt him,’ I snapped back. Then promptly forgot about him and anything else but Katie.
I jumped up and down, waving and shouting at her, wanting to let her know I was here. That I’d get her out whatever it took. She didn’t react. I shouted again.
‘Merchandise can’t communicate with bidders, Ms Taylor,’ a familiar mike-enhanced voice boomed out. ‘It’s against the Forum’s ethics.’
Ethics?I whirled round.
A single spot, trained stage right, illuminated an auctioneer’s lectern. Standing on a step-stool behind the lectern, holding a golden gavel, was Mr Lampy the gnome. He treated me to a denture-filled leer. ‘Cages are bespelled,’ he said. ‘One-way viewing for bidders and barterers only.’
I slapped my hands on the invisible wall of the circle, desperate to escape it, release Ascalon and skewer the disgusting little gnome, the smug Emperor and the heartless Empress. Instead, I snatched up the gold coin with a shaking hand and forced myself to sit. There had to be a way to fix this.
A loud gong sounded, reverberating through the air and the ground beneath me.
‘Romulus Augustus,’ the gnome shouted, with a flourish of his golden gavel, ‘the last Emperor of the Western Roman Empire, and his lady, the Empress Shpresa, welcome you to the Forum Mirabilis. The Forum where anything can be bought or bartered for, if you are prepared to pay the price.’ Another more ominous (to me, anyway) gong sounded. ‘Ladies, gentleman and Others, please prepare to view our very rare and very special merchandise, gathered exclusively for your delectation on this glorious Summer Solstice night.’ The gnome swept his gavel out towards the semi-circle of tents. ‘Full details and 360-degree live videos are available on the electronic tablets located in front of your seat.’
A sensation of movement came from the shadowed bleachers on the stage.
The gnome pointed at Katie’s cage. ‘Immediately to my left is lot number one: an extremely rare, pre-mated pair of ailuranthropes – shifter subspecies: sabre-tooth cat cinereus– long thought extinct. As you will see from the details, I have personally performed all the necessary checks on the female, so survival is guaranteed post ritual, as is breeding, if the pair are mated within the specified period of time.’
Fury rolled through me. I wanted to rip the gavel from the pervert gnome’s hold and use it to perform every u
‘Next is lot number two: another extremely rare and hard to come by item’ – I peered out between my fingers – ‘a pre-change ailuranthrope – shifter subspecies: Royal Bengal tiger – with no bonds of loyalty in place.’ As the gnome spoke, the tent next to Katie’s disappeared to reveal a man curled in a foetal position, collared and chained much as Katie was. Jonathan Weir, the zoo employee. ‘Bidders note that no refunds will be offered if he does not survive the shift.’
He’d survive. Viviane said so, but only to lose his partner later. Sadness flickered through my rage at the Emperor. He’d only given me one coin. And I had to use it to save Katie. But I wasn’t going to let David die, I vowed, yanking my boots back on. I’d find some way to stop the Forum’s future deterrent. Then I caught sight of the Emperor. A suggestion of a smile wreathed his mouth. He knewwhat was going to happen to David. And that I knew it too. Bastard . . . I was going to make himpay. Somehow.
I ripped at the dried grass as the gnome continued to extol the Forum’s ‘merchandise’ cage by cage. Number three held a selkie. The one who’d been squatting on the Golden Hind– the replica warship – moored on the Thames at Southwark? I decided I didn’t want to know. Cage four held a small black Labrador-like puppy. He was listed as a Black Dog, untrained, so his howl could not be guaranteed to bring about immediate death.
There were five swan maidens, evidently numerically appropriate in someone’s mind, in cage five. Cage six: a centaur; cage seven: Mini the Minotaur; and cage eight: a hairless cat in a blue sweater. Looked like the Forum’s procurers had raided the Carnival’s shows to up their auction specials.
I felt bad for them all and, if I could, I’d help them.
Cage nine was another ailuranthrope – shifter subspecies: sabre-tooth cat cinereusbeta – which apparently meant he’d been Bitten, not Changed by Ritual or Born, so was infertile according to the gnome’s candid description, and was bound by loyalty, so was ideally suited for the epicurean markets. Gold Cat stirred inside me, and at her prodding I lifted my head to check: the man in the cage was the third of the grey and black big-cat-shifters. Steve Dean, she murmured, her sorrow filtering through my own thought that Stevewas more baddie than goodie, so while the idea that he was going to end up as some sick fuck’s ‘Special of the Day’ turned my stomach, he really didn’t register that high on my ‘Person Who Needs Saving’ scale.
The kidnapped woman and her son – listed as ailuranthrope shifter subspecies: Royal Bengal tiger – were in cage ten, to be sold either as one lot or separately, dependent on bids. I raked my hands through my hair. Katie was my main concern, but neither she nor I could turn our backs on a little kid and his mother. Fuck. This was so going from bad to evil. It was almost a guilty relief to hear that cage eleven and twelve held a giant squid in a huge glass tank and an Arabian phoenix respectively, and neither were anyone I knew.