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‘Abraham, new member needs checking out,’ Gareth said quietly, then gestured at me. ‘Give him your hand so he can do his stuff.’
Goblins, like trolls, are impervious to magic, but unlike trolls, goblins are the ultimate magic detectors; they can spot a vamp mind-lock at twenty paces, and they can sense if someone’s under the influence of a vamp’s mesmawith just a brief touch. They’re also the ultimate ‘letter of the law’ followers: once a goblin’s agreed a job and been paid, nothing can corrupt them, which is the main reason goblins are so popular with humans who do business with the vamps. And it’s why the Monitors act as gatekeepers for the vamp clubs: the law states vamps can’t use mesmaor magical persuasions to force humans to enter any premises licensed for vampiric activities. Being checked out by a Monitor goblin makes the punters feel safe. Of course, there are other ways of persuading people that have nothing to do with mesmaor magic, which is something the law doesn’t account for.
I ran my finger down my nose in the respectful goblin greeting, then held my hand out, palm up. The goblin adjusted his miniature black wraparounds with the precise movements of someone utterly drunk and trying to hide it, then returned my greeting. ‘St’early?’ he queried to Gareth.
‘Abraham, it’s not too early, and she ain’t human. The vamps can’t mind-lock sidhes, so it’s just for the cameras anyway.’
‘S’okays …’ He belched, his chin falling to his chest, and a sour reek filled the air.
I jerked my hand away, incredulous. ‘Are you mad? Don’t you know how risky it is having a goblin milked up on methane above ground during the day? What if he gets hit by sunlight?’
‘Hey, no worries!’ Gareth beckoned me to put my hand back. ‘Abes ain’t go
‘Handmiss,’ Abraham slurred.
Frowning, I offered it again and Abraham dipped a finger in the water-dish, reached out and brushed my palm with a butterfly’s touch, so light and quick that I almost didn’t feel his sharp claw slice my skin. He pressed the seal into my blood, then leaned drunkenly forwards and stamped the form next to my/Mi
I stood looking at the neat diamond design he’d cut into my palm, stu
‘One of the vamps thought it’d be a good gimmick, and the members love it,’ Gareth said, picking Abraham up and strapping him into a child’s high chair next to his own seat. He held up his own hand; a similar diamond shape glowed blue-white on his palm. ‘Invisible ink’s made from tonic water, the UV lights make it glow, and a spell tagsit in place. It’s like getting your hand stamped with that indelible ink the other clubs use, only some members don’t want nobody knowing they’ve been to a vamp club’—his lip curled with contempt—‘so it suits all round.’
Crap. ‘How long does it last for?’
‘Long enough, Ms Taylor,’ a deep voice said next to me.
I jerked round at the voice, my pulse jumping in my throat, wondering for a mad moment if it was the dog speaking.
A vampire was standing a couple of feet away, an avuncular smile on his handsome fortysomething face—a fang-free smile, of course, a neat trick the older vamps practise: Fyodor Andreevich Zakharin, head honcho of the White Diamond vamps.
Chapter Twenty
I gave Fyodor a narrow-eyed once-over: long silver-white hair, long-skirted coat covered in military-looking braid sewn with diamonds, waistcoat and breeches tucked into high soft leather boots. His clothes were all white other than his boots, which were gleaming black. His white silk cravat was stuck with a diamond tie-pin so enormous that it would make a goblin queen drool with lust. The white outfit sparkled in the UV lights, giving him a glowing nimbus, like I guessed an aura would, if I could see them. Next to him sat the dog-tagged wolfhound, tongue still lolling, silver-white coat looking not unlike the vamp’s silver-white hair.
‘Let me guess,’ I said, pleased my voice came out calm, ‘you’re either going to a naff elf-themed wedding, or you’re shooting an advert for soap powder that can reallymake your whites sparkle.’
The dog growled low in its throat, and was answered by more rumbling growls. My stomach clenched with apprehension as I flashed a look around me. Gareth was blank-faced, mind-locked—not that he’d be any help, even if he wasn’t—and the goblin was snoring softly in his high chair. And half a dozen more huge wolfhounds ringed the entrance hall, standing between me and the exit. Great, a doggy ambush.
‘Genevieve is our guest, Max,’ Fyodor, the sparkling vamp warned, drawing my attention back to him as he patted the dog’s head.
I dipped my shoulder and caught my backpack by its handle. The three bags of blood inside it weren’t heavy, but the couple of bricks I kept in it were, and they made it a handy weapon. Malik might’ve given me protection, but it still pays to stay alert. You never know when some vamp’s going to develop a superiority complex, or think he’s found a get-out clause that’ll let him keep his head attached to his shoulders.
‘Guests usually get to leave when they want.’ I had a moment’s regret that I’d used the last of my Security Stingers on Sylvia the dryad. ‘Oh, and there’s the other thing: didn’t you swear an oath to your liege lord Malik al-Khan not to approach me?’
‘Please, Genevieve, put away your fear.’ He held his hands out in welcome. ‘You have no need of it here. We acknowledge Malik al-Khan’s protection over you. We also offer you the hospitality and protection of White Diamond blood while you are with us.’
I relaxed. Slightly. Offers of hospitality and protection were all good, even if I’d rather he hadn’t spoken to me in the first place.
‘But even were it not for these assurances, you are safe,’ he carried on, smiling like he was about to tell me I’d won a prize draw, ‘for you are among your true blood-family now.’
I held up my hand. ‘Wait just one minute. My father might be White Diamond blood, but I’m not a vampire, and there’s no way I’m admitting any co
‘Genevieve, please, I assure you I mean you no harm. Our blood co
Just what a girl doesn’t need: long-lost vampire relatives.
His smile widened, and this time I caught a glimpse of fang. ‘I was privileged to be at your christening, although you would not recollect that, but you should recollect meeting me at your betrothal to the Autarch. I asked if you’d be kind enough to call me Cousin Fyodor.’
A flash of him smiling in just the same way, saying just the same words, with my father standing at his side, lit my mind, then it was snuffed out by the gut-churning fear any memory of that night brought me. I stared at him, a voice inside irrationally screaming, If he was family, why hadn’ t he helped?Anger and disbelief that he hadn’t—and now he expected me to remember him—burned the fear away. I glared at him. ‘Are you trying to be fu