The Cold Kiss of Death

The glass wasn’t just a stylish break between his living and working areas. When I looked, the complicated Buffer spell that protected all his computers from getting zapped by magic lit the glass up like a sun-flare. And there was a lot of gear to protect: a three-high by five-wide bank of flat-screen computer monitors curved around a selection of keyboards and rollerball mice posed on flexi-stalks. It looked like a cross between a giant’s electronic bouquet and a hacker’s mega-expensive wet dream.

I pulled open the glass door; the low background hum of the electronics buzzed against my ears and I swallowed back the flat taste of the ionised, recycled air. Most of the monitors were playing sections of one large screensaver—a coral reef with darting shoals of tropical fish, and a pair of sharp-toothed sharks swimming lazily from one screen to another—but the monitor front and centre was paused on the CCTV footage showing ‘me’ standing in front of Tomas’ bakery talking to the florist’s boy.

My stomach did an anxious little jump at seeing it again. I hooked one leg under me and settled into the leather chair, reaching for the nearest keyboard—

‘Tavish says to remember the bracelets and the gloves,’ Fi

I stopped, hand in mid-air. ‘Thanks,’ I said and snagged a pair of the extra-thick surgical gloves from the box under the desk. I snapped them on and pulled them up over my wrists, then gingerly picked up two silver cuffs from the tray next to the box. They were half an inch wide and peppered with industrial-grade diamond chips. I clasped them round my wrists on top of the gloves so the silver didn’t burn my skin. The cuffs and gloves were probably overkill—seeing as each computer had its own individual Buffer spell glowing away—but I wasn’t going to take the chance of frying their hard drives by not wearing the magical inhibitors. Tavish might like me, but not that much.

‘Are you okay?’ Fi

‘I’m fine,’ I said, still simmering with a

‘You don’t look fine, Gen.’

I glanced down at the baggy T-shirt that was all I was wearing—Joseph’s boxers had been too large for me, and none of the fetish underwear in the mirrored wardrobes had appealed. Tavish’s Clean-Up spell had dried and de-sanded the T-shirt, but that was it. I sighed. Okay, I didn’t look so good, but hey, what did he expect after all I’d been through? Explosion and deep sea swimming anyone?

I turned to look at Fi

I shrugged. ‘Not all of us have the ability to callfresh clothes whenever we want to.’

‘I’m not talking about the clothes, Gen.’ He came over to crouch by the side of my chair. ‘I’m talking about this.’ He gently touched a pink patch of skin on my forearm. A tingle slipped inside me before the cuffs glowed and shut it down. ‘You’ve been injured.’ Anxiety shaded the moss-green of his eyes.

‘I’ll heal good as new in a few days,’ I said firmly, still furious that he hadn’t thought to check I was okay before he’d started chucking Stun spells around. I narrowed my eyes. ‘What are you doing here, anyway, besides your little spat with Tavish out there?’

‘Hell’s thorns, Gen,’ he said, exasperated. ‘What do you think I’m doing here? You’ve been missing since Tuesday morning; I’ve been worried about you.’

‘And now I’m not missing any more.’ I tilted my head enquiringly. ‘Are you here to help, or is there some other reason?’

A puzzled line creased between his brows. ‘Of course I’m here to help, why else?’

‘Oh, maybe so you can tell Detective Inspector Helen Crane, your ex-witch wife, where I am so she can come and arrest me?’ I said, not keeping the suspicion out of my voice.

‘Helen’s a police officer, Gen.’ He straightened, his face closing up. ‘She has to go by the evidence.’

‘Yeah, right.’ Disappointment twisted through me. Of course he’d take her side; it didn’t seem to matter that she might be looking at the evidence through blinkered eyes gone green with jealousy. I turned back to the monitors, clicked on the play button and started the CCTV footage rolling. The monitor-me stuck her hands on her hips outside the bakery and looked around.

‘She doesn’t need to arrest me anyway,’ I said after a moment. ‘I’ve got an alibi, someone who can prove I wasn’t with Tomas when he was killed.’

‘Who?’ Fi

‘Who’s your alibi?’ Fi

I frowned up at him, then opened my mouth to say Malik—Then I didn’t as my mind hit a snag I hadn’t considered before. Not only was Malik laid out with his injuries right now, but naming a vamp as my alibi was going to be like waving a bloody flag in the face of the Witches’ Council. It was one of those ‘damned if I do and damned if I don’t’ things. Shit.

‘It’s a sucker, isn’t it?’ Accusation sharpened Fi

I sighed. ‘I wasn’t withhim, Fi

He pushed his fingers through his hair, a worried line creasing between his brows. ‘You weren’t actually with him in person when the human was killed?’

‘No,’ I said, turning back to watch the screens. ‘I was ru

On the monitor the florist’s boy came out of the shop and I picked my way past his flower buckets to talk to him.

‘The problem, Gen,’ Fi

On the recording I stripped off my sweatshirt and dunked it in a bucket, then disappeared inside the bakery—walking into the trap.

‘So unless the real murderer puts in an appearance, I’m already tried, judged and convicted,’ I finished for him. ‘Looks like your ex has done a bang-up job,’ I added bitterly.

‘You disappearing didn’t help, Gen,’ he returned angrily.

‘Fi

He swung the chair round again and leaned down, dismay flickering in his eyes. ‘It isover between Helen and me, Gen, but it’s complicated. I didn’t realise it would affect you as it has.’ He dipped his head. ‘My apologies, my Lady.’

I stared at him, incredulous. ‘I don’t know what game you’re playing with all this “my Lady” crap, but you can forget it.’ I turned back to watch the monitors. ‘And just for the record, “complicated” is not an excuse, it’s a way of life.’