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He frowned, perplexed. ‘I never met your mother, but from what I heard, your father was besotted with her, and Nataliya with him. I do not know that he ever did anything untoward to her—’
‘C’mon, Malik—that story about my father finding her at a fertility rite and the pair of them falling head-over-heels and then her tragically dying in childbirth? It’s just that: a story. One I stopped believing in a long time ago.’
Like I stopped believing in a whole lot of other things, like my father had my best interests at heart, and vamps were just people with pointy teeth, all thanks to the psychotic vamp my father betrothed me to: a.k.a. the Autarch, Britain’s Top Dog vamp—and Malik’s erstwhile master. I ignored the terrified, sick feeling in my stomach that always accompanied thoughts about my betrothed and glared at Malik.
‘It just doesn’t stack up.’ I smacked one of the steel beams. ‘I mean, how the hell did a vamp gatecrash a sidhe fertility rite in the first place, let alone survive long enough to get one pregnant? And then he actually kidnaps her when he escapes? Oh, and not to mention managing to keep her hidden from her queen and court long enough for a child to be born?’
‘Ah.’ He brushed his hair back where it had fallen forward. ‘I understand now. You think your father forced your mother in some way—’
‘I know he did!’ I yelled. ‘No sidhe would willingly have a child with a vamp—it just doesn’t happen!’
He stilled. Hot flames flared in his pupils, then snuffed out. The temperature on the walkway dropped about twenty degrees and I shivered in the sudden icy air as my horrified mind caught up with the stupid, thoughtless words my mouth had uttered.
‘And you know this how?’ he asked, his voice as chilly as the air.
I grimaced, my anger fleeing in the face of an insulted vamp—a powerful, dangerous, insulted vamp … a vamp I cared something for, and truly hadn’t meant to hurt. Way to go, Gen!‘Look, Malik, I’m sorry, that didn’t come out—’
‘Quiet, Genevieve.’
His order snapped into my mind, and my mouth stopped talking. Shock tripped through me, but before I could protest, he added, ‘Sit down and do not speak to anyone but me until you leave here.’
I half collapsed, half sat on the walkway, disbelief coursing through me that he’d sicced me with his mind-mojo.
‘Falling at your feet, is she? Lucky you, old chap.’
The loud, jovial voice came from behind me, and snapped me out of my shock. I twisted round to see its owner strolling along the walkway, his long platinum hair blowing out behind him like he was the star in a shampoo ad. The blousy red poet’s shirt and tight black trousers he was wearing added a pseudo-romantic flair, as did his dark, hooded eyes. But the manic grin, wide enough that I had no trouble seeing his fangs, spoiled the whole Byronic throwback look.
Tentative relief settled in me as I realised that Malik’s chilly rage might not be all about me.
‘You are not welcome here,’ Malik said, his voice soft with threat. ‘I suggest you leave now.’
Blondie threw his arms as wide as his grin. ‘Give it your best shot, old boy,’ he called, speeding up to a jog. Smoke-like shadows coalesced around us, drawing into spear-like lines of darkness that shot along the walkway to strike the now-sprinting vamp chest-on. He screeched, a high yipping sound, and the shadow spears vanished as he blurred forward and skidded to a halt a few feet away.
‘Dreamscapes are such fun,’ he chuckled, leaping up to hang from the steel rafters like a spider, ‘although I did expect the sidhe to be a tad more graceful.’ He leered down at me. ‘Still, I’m sure the blood makes up for any clumsiness.’
‘The sidhe is not your concern.’ Malik’s tone was back to being icy.
Great, let’s all talk about me like I’m some sort of pet.
I narrowed my gaze to peer at the vamp hanging above me. I recognised him. Blondie was the vamp Fi
Blondie dropped down, smoothed his hair and winked at me. ‘Any chance you’d be up for sharing with an old drinking buddy?’
‘Do not even consider it, Maxim,’ Malik growled, his voice vibrating harshly next to my ear. I jumped, startled at finding him crouched next to me. ‘Give me your hand, Genevieve.’ He held out his own, and I placed mine in his, thinking he meant to help me up.
Maxim gave a barking laugh. ‘Getting territorial over the sidhe, are you? Good God, that’s not going to go down well with His Royal Highness.’
Royal Highness?
Malik’s grip tightened on my fingers. I flinched.
‘ My apologies, Genevieve.’ Malik’s voice was calm in my head. ‘ I did not intend to hurt you.’
‘Don’t you want to know why I’m here, old man?’ Maxim asked cheerfully.
‘No.’ Malik flicked his hand, and the other vamp shot through the bridge’s suddenly insubstantial wall. For a second I thought he was gone, but he popped right back in and hunkered down next to us.
‘Good one that, old chap—caught me unawares,’ he said, still gri
‘This is not the time, Maxim,’ Malik said, glowering down at where he held my hand. Then he added in my mind, ‘ Genevieve, give me my ring, please.’
I frowned, adding ‘Royal Highness’ and ‘Lord and Master’ together and getting Autarch. Terrified panic clutched at me and I grabbed Malik’s arm. ‘What’s this got to do with the Autarch?’ I demanded.
‘Why, the Turk here is His newest Oligarch … Or should I say “toy”?’ Maxim rubbed his hands together with glee. ‘How long’s it been now, five months? Tell me, is His Royal Brattiness still at the “eviscerating and stringing of guts” stage, or has he moved on yet?’ Maxim gave me a sly look. ‘The rest of us have been greatly enjoying the holiday.’
I shot Malik a horrified look. ‘What the hell is he talking about?’
‘ There is nothing to fear, Genevieve.’ Malik’s voice came with a heavy push of mesmathat should have filled me with reassurance. It didn’t. ‘ You will be safe. But now you must go.’ He pulled his ring from my finger—
—my eyes snapped open. I stared up at the white ceiling of the silver-lined police cell, my stomach churning with barely suppressed fear, for me, and for Malik.
Blondie— Maxim—had said Malik was the Autarch’s new torture toy, and while Malik had looked okay, it had been a dream, and dreams and looks could both be deceiving.
Damn.I’d known Malik was London’s new Oligarch, and as Oligarch he would have been forced to swear an Oath of Fealty to the Autarch. I hadn’t thought through what that meant until now, no doubt thanks to Malik’s mind-mojo, but I was pretty sure I was the reason Malik had taken on the job. After the events last Hallowe’en I’d asked him to extend his protection to all of London’s fae and faelings until Clíona’s time limit was up, and he’d said yes. But that protection was worthless if all the Autarch had to do was snap his psychotic little fingers and say jump, and Malik would have to say how high.
It seemed to me to be an utterly stupid move on Malik’s part.
But stupid was one thing he wasn’t.
So what the hell was the beautiful, Machiavellian vamp playing at?
I sat up, my white-paper jumpsuit rustling, and checked out my left wrist. The spell bracelet was still there, half-submerged back into my body. After another few hours it would be totally absorbed. But Malik’s ring-charm was gone.