Instantly his face filled with rage again. ‘You will find me a bellarmine jug so I can take possession of the Clouded Map,’ he spat. ‘Or there will be consequences. Terrible consequences. You are supposed to be good at this, Ms Nash. That’s why I hired you.’
Temperamental bastard. Mallory drew herself up. ‘Iamgood at this. As per the terms of our contract, I will do my best to find a jug. However?—’
He didn’t allow her to finish her sentence. ‘You’d better find one.’ Chester Longchamps turned his back and made it very clear that their meeting was over.
‘This iswhy you shouldn’t deal with vampires,’ Boris told her. ‘They’re mercurial, dangerous and given to ripping out your throat at a moment’s notice.’
‘My throat is fine, thank you very much,’ Mallory said, despite still feeling disturbed by her meeting with Longchamps. She’d dealt with scary clients before and she knew how to hold her own, but there had been a brief moment when she’d genuinely feared he would attack her.
She shivered. All she had to do was try her hardest to find a bellarmine jug and she’d have completed her side of the bargain. She’d performed plenty of difficult favours in the past and she wouldn’t let a piece of damned earthenware thwart her. ‘It will be fine,’ she said aloud.
Boris shot her a dubious glance. ‘Are you trying to persuade me or yourself?’
She ignored him. ‘We can’t get hold of a jug from a store but we’re hardly out of options. Who else do we have from the witches who owes a favour?’
The spriggan pursed his lips. ‘There’s Alan North. He has a finger in lots of pies and he owes you two full favours.’
Mallory nodded. ‘True. I heard some reliable whispers that his coven is considering putting in a rival bid for the tram network, which will certainly put the proverbial cat among the pigeons. But I doubt he has a bellarmine jug. He’s new power, his family weren’t original Coldstream settlers, he’s not connected to the Council and he has several ancestors who weresquibs. I doubt he has anything like a real bellarmine jug in his possession – but find out, just in case.’
‘Freda Vargas, then?’ Boris suggested. ‘Her lineage is longer – she might have inherited a jug.’
Mallory nibbled her bottom lip. ‘Try her. And I’ll speak to Salty Miller. The druids wouldn’t typically have a use for one but there’s a chance that he might have one lying around. He’s that sort of person.’
‘His slate is clean,’ Boris reminded her. ‘His contract was fulfilled on both sides last year.’
‘That’s okay. I reckon he’d be amenable to opening a new one, especially if it’ll benefit him in the future.’
‘You’ll need to line your stomach before you go,’ he warned.
Mallory pulled a face. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I’ve not forgotten what he’s like.’
‘Last time your hangover lasted four days.’
She shuddered at the memory ‘Unfortunately, I haven’t forgotten that either.’
Mallory didn’t usuallyventure out during a full-moon event. When she’d first moved to Coldstream and been far braver and more foolish, she’d wandered the streets during a full moon and ended up cornered by two young werewolves in full rampage mode. They’d trapped her down an alleyway and taken great delight in nipping her several times. Although they’d only caused a few bruises and had quickly grown bored with her, it had been a terrifying experience for a young human woman with little Preternatural understanding.
Although she’d been born in the English countryside, Mallory had moved to the city of Glasgow with her parents inher teens. As a sixteen year old in a large unfamiliar city, she had quickly learned how to hold her own and she had been used to dealing with raucous partygoers, but werewolves with huge paws, sharp teeth and moon-invoked bloodlust were a different matter. It had been a sobering night that she’d vowed never to repeat.
She was a very different person now, and Salty Miller was leaving for New Orleans at the weekend. If she didn’t speak to him immediately it could be months before she saw him again. She was fortunate he’d managed to find any time for her at all.
She was carrying two vials of wolfsbane, one in each pocket, and was wearing plain dark clothing that was very different to her usual attire. Black would help camouflage her as she traversed the moonlit streets, and the tight-fitting leggings and top would make it easier if she needed to run. She’d tied her bouncy brown curls back and shoved them beneath a black cap. Under other circumstances, she’d have passed for a cat burglar or a ninja but all she really wanted to do was pass unnoticed.
She’d agreed to meet Salty at a druid bar on Hirsel Street. It wasn’t a particularly friendly place unless you had blue tattoos, and its patrons would be even more on edge than usual given the time of the month, but there’d been no point trying to persuade him to meet elsewhere. If she wanted to talk to him, she had to agree to his terms.
At least Hirsel Street was less than a half a mile from her flat on Crackendon Square, and even allowing for packs of howling werewolves it was little more than a ten-minute walk. Slipping out at dusk also helped; although some werewolves would already be roaming the streets, it was early enough to avoid them. As long as she wasn’t too late leaving Hirsel Street to return home everything would be fine. She hoped.
It was a few months since Mallory had frequented any of the boozy establishments along the busy street known throughoutColdstream for its nightlife and party atmosphere. When she’d started brokering secrets and favours, she’d spent countless hours haunting the bars and clubs.In vino veritaswas as true now as it had been in Roman times, and she’d learned a great deal from alcohol-sodden tongues. She still kept many of the Hirsel bar staff sweet, and they were prepped to contact her if certain Preternatural bigwigs turned up. These days she didn’t need to spend several nights a month trawling for secrets because more often than not people came to her, but part of her missed those frenetic days – even if her liver was grateful that it no longer had to work overtime.
As she’d expected at full moon, the small pub was quieter than usual although the usual diehards who would lock themselves inside and drink the night away were there. Although Mallory recognised almost every face, she knew better than to attempt small talk; she wasn’t a druid and even her best chatter would not be welcome. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Salty Miller and she prayed silently that she hadn’t missed him.
The barman eyed her coldly as he polished the glass in his hands in a manner that could only be described as menacing. She knew he wouldn’t attack her but he wanted her to think that he could.
The only approach was to go into full sunshine mode, so she plastered on a brilliant smile. Twinkly eyes and shiny teeth, she told herself. You’ve done this a million times before. If she could deal with the likes of Chester Longchamps, she could certainly handle this guy.
‘Good evening!’
The barman didn’t react: he didn’t blink, he didn’t twitch and he certainly didn’t smile. He simply continued polishing the pint glass and eyeballing her.
