“You're on Bremor land, lady,” Burke said, voice low and threatening. To his credit, my cousin hadn’t assumed I might have business with a bloodsucker.

  Kate’s eyes lost all trace of warmth. Her smile didn’t fade, but her tone sharpened as she replied:

  “But this land is in Farnell, my dear Lord Oldstone, in a city I’ve long considered home.”

  The fact that she knew Burke’s title knocked some of the bluster out of him, and raised his guard. Thin streaks of purple lightning flickered across his skin.

  Kate gave a derisive snort.

  “Don’t strain yourself, boy. You’re not your father yet.”

  Before things got any worse, I repeated my question: “What are you doing here?”

  “Business,” she said, dropping the pretense. “An official matter from the Blair nest to Clan Bremor.”

  “Then you’ll want to speak to my uncle.”

  “Pff. Easier for a vampire to get an audience with the King than with the Earl of Bremor. Don’t be stingy, Duncan — you’ll have to hear me out.”

  I sighed, rubbed the bridge of my nose, and said to Peter: “Can you find us a room?”

  “There’s a conference room next to Albert’s office.”

  With two seasoned shifters stationed nearby? Perfect.

  “Lead the way,” I said.

  Burke tried to follow us in, but Kate shut that down immediately, saying bluntly that he didn’t know the local players well enough to be of use. The golden light of evening was dimmed as we lowered the blinds, though Kate still chose the shadiest side of the table and immediately removed her scarf and hat. The room settled into a half-light.

  That might have made things difficult for someone else, but thanks to the potions my grandfather used to force down my throat as a child, I could see her almost as clearly as she could see me.

  “Go on,” I said.

  “Not even going to offer a lady some tea?”

  “What next, a glass of blood? Arterial, perhaps?”

  “Oh, can’t even joke now?” Kate muttered, putting on her socialite face. But the look I gave her made her drop the act. “I want to hire a team of hunters,” she said, serious now.

  That took me aback, but I still asked the obvious: “You’re joking again?”

  “I’m not.”

  I probably should’ve turned her down on the spot. Bremor folk don’t work for vampires, and I hadn’t forgotten the games her father played using me as a pawn. But I was intrigued.

  “All right. You’ve piqued my interest. Let’s hear it.”

  “Do you know the name Albert Shearing?”

  “Up-and-coming jazz star? Performed at The Golden Tear last week. The girls wanted to go, but you know how it is, we’re not exactly welcome there.”

  “I could smooth that over,” the bloodsucker offered.

  “Don’t even think about it!”

  Nothing good ever came of my visits to that club, it was always the same: brawls, gunfire, ruined clothes, and outrageous expenses. If the ban was lifted, Finella and Simon would definitely make a beeline for it. Spark would drag Goat along, and she’d drag me…

  “You shouldn’t be so quick to say no. There are a lot of people there…”

  “And non-people.”

  “Rude!” Kate scolded, scandalised. “Non-people or not, some of them are very important. At The Golden Tear, deals are struck that would make the best offices in the City blush.”

  “Stick to the point. What’s Shearing got to do with this?”

  “Shearing had cancer.”

  “Had?” I repeated.

  Cancer was one of the few diseases that magic and alchemy had little defence against. Cancer was life — wild and unchecked. Tumours duplicated themselves energetically on the subtle body, and the only known treatment was Death, the magical domain, not the literal end. A hostile element to work with. Mishandled, it could land the patient in a coffin faster than the disease ever would.

  “Had,” Kate confirmed. “Not because he was cured, because Shearing was murdered two days ago. Someone tore his head off. Literally. I want that creature found and killed.”

  “Two questions, then: why not do it yourselves? And who was he to you? Why is the Blair nest so concerned about Albert Shearing’s death?”

  “The death of Shearing isn’t what troubles us. He was going to die, one way or another. But the fact that Albert Blair was never born, that’s what I can’t forgive the creature who killed him.”

  Ah. That made it clearer, vampires do love to make things dramatic. Or rather, they love power, status, and influence, and a rising jazz star could’ve put the Blair nest on the global map, much like Jariz Sardou once did. Kate had drawn a winning ticket, and someone had snatched it from her hand and torn it in half right in front of her.

  This wasn’t grief, it was wounded pride, and she wanted revenge. The messier, the better.

  But why with our hands?

  “Returning to my first question…” I reminded her.

  “We might not be able to handle it.”

  “I beg your pardon?” I raised an eyebrow.

  For a vampire matriarch to admit that?… Though, to be fair, Kate had already demonstrated weakness the day Evan forced her to choose between death or guarding my life. This might be another gambit, one of those tangled manoeuvres vampires are so unhealthily fond of. Still, it piqued my curiosity again. Kate wasn’t just a master vampire, she was the head of the most powerful nest in Farnell. With her resources, she could train and arm a fledgling army. Illegal? Certainly. But since when did laws ever stop vampires?

  And even an army could be disposed of afterward.

  “His name’s the Brute.”

  I frowned. She said it like I was supposed to be impressed.

  Kate raised her eyebrows theatrically.

  “The Brute. As in — the Rat King’s enforcer.”

  “Who?”

  “Are you seriously playing dumb, or do you really not know?” She looked genuinely confused.

  “No idea who you’re talking about.”

  “The head of Farnell’s criminal underworld.”

  “He exists? I thought all that business was divided between the nests.”

  “Ha!” Kate snorted. “We’re practically lambs compared to the rest! Our legal holdings outstrip some of the city’s so-called reputable families. Duncan, Farnell runs on the port. Smuggling flows through it like a golden river, and everyone dips their cup: customs, the police, the Duke, even the Mayor. And orbiting around that river is another trade dirtier, bloodier, less profitable but much more brutal: murder, drug trafficking, forbidden magic. At the top of that pyramid sits the Rat King.”

  “Does he have a real name?”

  “No one knows. Some say it’s the Duke himself. Others say someone from deCamp’s secretariat.”

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  “Why not the Mayor himself?”

  “He’s Gifted. That’s the rumour anyway, and it’s a compelling one. In the underworld, personal strength still matters.”

  “And the Brute? Anyone know who he is?”

  “No.”

  “So what went wrong between you?”

  “We own a chain of butcher shops across Farnell. Last week, the Rat’s men came to me. Wanted to start selling drugs through our counters.”

  “And you said no? That’s a lot of money.”

  “I can count,” Kate snapped. “Earning money is easy. Earning a reputation, that’s harder. The nest’s not in a position to make that sort of sacrifice.”

  “So this kingpin had your boy killed over a refusal? Doesn’t exactly scream ‘mastermind of crime.’”

  “Maybe…” Kate muttered, crumpling her handkerchief. “Maybe I was a little too sharp in my reply. But the brat was far too smug!”

  “What exactly did you do?”

  “Me?!” she gasped, all mock innocence, hand to chest. “I simply showed his messenger the door!

  “And he took offence… and reached for the heroin to cheer himself up. Overdose,” she said flatly. “It was in the papers.”

  “Lady Blair,” I growled.

  “Lord Loxlin,” she replied, saccharine and sharp. “Friends are meant to help each other. Otherwise, what are we?”

  “We’re not friends, madam.”

  “Are you sure, Duncan?” she asked, cold now. “Then what are we?”

  Kate had tugged the cat’s whiskers once too often, thinking no one could prove her link to the ‘accident’. But criminals aren't coppers, they don’t need proof. She’d pulled the tail of a tiger thinking it was a kitten.

  Now she had two choices: submit to the Rat King, or come crawling to us, hoping for mercy. And mercy was in short supply.

  Her nest, already weakened by recent conflicts, wouldn’t survive another war. Still… damn, she held her poise well. As if she weren’t neck-deep in it already.

  And those words of hers…

  If we’re not friends — then what are we?

  Enemies?

  Was that the threat?

  What can a weakened vampire nest do?

  On its own — nothing. But if we refuse, we push Kate straight into the arms of Farnell’s crime lord. If she can’t hurt him, she’ll make a mess of us instead.

  The days when she could just be wiped off the map are long gone. Killing a vampire matriarch now would raise far too many questions. And it’s not like she’d be careless enough to walk into a trap. From under the Rat’s wing, she’ll remember every slight and humiliation — how Evan made her kneel, how Harry shamed her, how I spoke to her.

  We couldn’t say no. And damn it… I almost respected her for it.

  “Bremor doesn’t do business with vampires,” I said, forcing Kate to clench her jaw to keep from baring her teeth. My hand almost twitched toward the Stoneflesh ring I wore now instead of the Stoneskin one. A master vampire could be very fast — better to keep logic ahead of emotion.

  “But,” I continued, “sometimes our interests align.”

  And they really might. That crowned rat was almost certainly tied to the abductions.

  Kate slowly brought the smile back to her face.

  “Vampires are intensely social creatures, Lord Loxlin. We need friends. Shared interests can be a wonderful foundation for friendship.”

  “Don’t push it, Kate. I’ve heard you. So tell me, what’s threatening your nest right now?”

  “Right now? Nothing, I think. My visit won’t go unnoticed, so we’ve probably got a few days while the enemy re-evaluates.”

  Clever bitch. Even if we’d thrown her out on her ear, she’d still have bought those few days.

  “I’m not promising anything. But about your brute…”

  “The Brute,” she corrected.

  “Right. Him. And your Rat King — start gathering information. Bloody hell…” I winced, already picturing the scope of the analysis ahead. “On the entire criminal underworld of Farnell, actually.”

  “The entire underworld?” Kate blinked. “I’m not looking to start a war, just to send a message that I’m not to be touched.”

  “That’s exactly why I need information,” I lied. “To send the right kind of message.”

  “Feels more like you’re just trying to get a free intelligence briefing at my expense.”

  “Well, yes. That too,” I admitted. “Now off you go. I’ve still got to brief the senior staff, and I’m already late for a date.”

  Kate rose, clearly in a better mood.

  “Give my regards to Ellie.”

  “I’ll be sure to pass them on,” I said automatically. And maybe I actually would.

  I saw her out, even observed the niceties, then made a dash back to Albert’s office. Five pairs of eyes turned on me with curiosity, scepticism, and the slightest trace of reproach.

  “You all heard that, yeah?” I asked.

  “We did,” said Burke, “but I can’t say it made things any clearer. Especially the way you switched gears at the end. One second you’re saying you’re no friends of hers, next second you’ve got shared interests.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Albert came to my defence. “The criminal underworld intelligence.”

  Everyone looked to me now, expecting an explanation.

  “Not just that,” I said. “Better she spends her energy sabotaging the gangsters than making trouble for us.”

  Burke wasn’t satisfied.

  “How does she even know you? You don’t just become her ‘friend’ out of nowhere.”

  “That,” I said darkly, “you’ll have to ask your father. That favour was his doing.”

  I checked the time.

  “Right, since you all heard everything, you can explain it to the Lord. I’ve got a date to get to.”

  “Wait a minute!” Peter protested. “What about my assignment?”

  “I’ll drop by tomorrow. No time today!” I said with finality. The architect had no choice but to accept it.

  Thankfully, Knuckles had finished his rounds and was already waiting behind the wheel. He dropped me off at The Anvil and took the Thompson with him. He’d only be in the way from here.

  I pulled up outside the Sheridan house right on time, and picked up Ellie and Finella. The redhead still got on my nerves, but at least she didn’t go full drama queen tonight. A few blocks in, she jumped out and transferred to Simon’s car — the relationship they were still hiding from her hot-headed big brother. Ellie and I had no choice but to help them cover for it.

  But the second Finella left the Cooper, my Goat practically pounced on me, hit me with a kiss so hot I nearly forgot my name, and let my hands wander across all her finer assets. Only for a minute, but it was enough to rev me up like a brand-new Martin roadster.

  Bloody hell, I know she’s a proper young lady, but I’m only human.

  Stone.

  Right now I’m stone. So damn stone it hurts.

  Finella and Simon would be tumbling around until late… Well, until ten, to be precise. I was to drop the girls home by half ten.

  Tonight’s plan was My Man Godfrey, a popular romantic comedy. Ellie loved romcoms, didn’t matter if they were on stage or screen. So we hadn’t missed a single big-name release these past two months.

  Early on in our dating, I’d insisted we see The Three Rapiers, a home-grown film made using the new Cinemachrome tech — full colour.

  The colour was about the only good thing it had going for it. The acting was appalling, the fight scenes were laughable, and the drama was pure cheese. Since then, we’d agreed: only romantic comedies.

  At least they all ended in weddings or close enough, which put Ellie in a far more agreeable mood. If we didn’t have to pick Finella up later, I might have even talked her round tonight.

  The film was decent, actually. The plot was utter nonsense, but that’s forgiven in a romcom. Godfrey, picked up off the street as a bit of fun by two rich sisters, ends up working as a butler in their powerful father’s house. He stands up to the snide elder sister, wins the heart of the younger, saves the family from financial ruin, and, already a rich man himself, returns to the slums.

  There, he builds an entertainment complex with his own money and hires all his fellow down-and-outs. The younger sister chases after him, expecting to find him in a shanty, instead finds a glamorous club, with Godfrey at the helm. The film ends, almost, with a wedding.

  The young lady informs him they are getting married, and that his guest room wallpaper needs changing. Her family agrees, and his opinion doesn’t matter. Following that final scene, I got kissed for a full two minutes.

  If not for the packed cinema, I might’ve gotten a bit more than that.

  Maybe I should buy a telereceiver? Set it up in my room, wait until they air something romantic, invite Ellie over…

  Not a bad idea, if only it didn’t cost a fortune. With that money I could buy three Coopers. Or a brand-new Martin roadster.

  Hmm… what about a radio drama? I should check the programme, see when they air that kind of thing.

  After the film, we had half an hour to spare at the cafe. Ellie chirped on about the film while I nodded and imagined her naked.

  By touch alone, I’d nearly mapped every inch of her. But seeing her in full, that pleasure I’d yet to earn. There was a lot I hadn’t earned yet. And bloody hell, I wanted to.

  It was slowly driving me mad.

  When the clock struck ten and Finella and Simon still hadn’t shown, I began hatching plans. Didn’t have to take her straight home, did I?

  Maybe a trip out of town, look at the stars? No… too obvious. Ellie wasn’t stupid, she’d clock it straightaway. The park, then? Somewhere we could stop without straying too far off course…

  Another ten minutes ticked by. Struggling to maintain an air of calm, I paid the bill. I was ready to sprint to the car. Last thing I needed was to run into that pair around the corner.

  Ellie and I stepped outside, made it a few metres toward the car park, when suddenly, in the quiet of the night, came the dry click of a hammer being cocked, followed by something cold and solid jabbing me between the shoulder blades.

  “Don’t move,” said two ominous voices.

  I obeyed.

  Thanks to the rear-vision spell, I didn’t need to turn to see Kettle’s grinning mug.

  He had one finger against my back.

  Finella had done the same with Ellie. The hammer I’d heard belonged to Simon’s revolver. Thankfully, the idiot had enough sense not to point it at me, it was aimed safely at the ground.

  Bloody hell.

  So much for my plans.

  They’d clearly been lying in wait outside, hoping to give us a laugh.

  I was furious.

  Out of my bloody mind, actually.

  Right then, let’s give them a laugh, shall we?

  My skin turned to stone, literally. I cast Stoneflesh, spun on the spot, and drove a stony fist straight into Simon’s jaw.

  His amulet flared on impact, a burst of grey light showered from the strike. Problem was, the defence charm was built for bullets. What it wasn’t built for was a full-force punch. Simon dropped the pistol, thank God it didn’t fire, and landed squarely on his arse.

  “Duncan!” Finella shrieked.

  Ellie promptly kicked her. Sent the redhead flying even farther than her boyfriend. My Goat had strong legs.

  “Uuurgh!” Kettle groaned, lifting a hand to adjust his jaw. “Alright, alright, fair play. That joke didn’t land.”

  “Are you completely brain-dead?” Ellie snapped, stashing her cleaver back under her skirt. That damned lump of metal. Always in the way when I’m trying to get handsy.

  “What if I’d killed you on the spot?” I asked Simon.

  “Well, I sort of knew what you were capable of,” he said, picking himself up and hurrying to Finella, who was already on her feet, brushing herself off. Looked like she’d picked her defensive enchantments with Ellie in mind.

  Kettle checked his lady wasn’t hurt, rubbed his jaw again, and turned back to me.

  “I did expect you to either recognise me or use your crystal blades,” he admitted. “I’d set my protections against them.”

  Well. Now it would just be rude to say I’d recognised him.

  Or maybe I should tell him, let him know I’d spared him on purpose?

  No. Let him think I don’t use that spell regularly.

  …Only I hadn’t used it tonight.

  I pulled a small notebook from the inner pocket of my jacket and flipped to the Rear View entry. One, two, three duplicates listed, none used.

  “You alright there?” Simon asked, watching me frown.

  “Just had an idea,” I muttered, waving it off.

  I had my first quick-cast spell. And that’s not something to go shouting about.

  Among casters, it’s like your final trick, the one you hide from even your closest allies, in case you ever need it to kill your way out of an impossible corner.

  I wasn’t yet sure how to best use it, but it definitely had potential.