16
Gideon
Sinead:I’ve made the arrangements, and Mr Moriarty assures me that everything will work. All you have to do is get her back to Sanctus.
THE SMELL HITS MEbefore I’m five feet from the door.
Bergamot and patchouli assault my nostrils, bringing tears to my eyes. If this is human magic, then give me some of that Dusk Court blowing-the-world-to-smithereens nonsense any day. And to smithereens is the absolute worst way to get blown.
But this… this istorture.
I have to do it. For Arabella. For my grand gesture.
Arabella and Winnie have been working on the Sanctus finances for a week now. She’s sorting coins, making calls, and driving up to London with stacks of treasure in the boot of her car. She returns empty-handed, but when I check my bank account, the number climbs at an alarming rate. Thanks to her contacts and astute deal-making skills, the treasures the vampires paid me are worth more than the value of their homes, and she’s barely made a dent in the vault. At this rate, I’ll be able to fund the rest of the project without having to court another investor.
I’m not surprised Arabella is brilliant. Iamsurprised that she agreedto help me save Sanctus. It’s given me hope that maybe the Nevermore Coven’s crazy plan for a grand gesture could work.
I’m about to find out.
It’s after 7 pm. I’ve just woken from my daysleep and talked myself into coming here against my better judgement. TheCLOSEDsign is flipped over the door of Spell The Tea, but I can see Isis, Dora, and Komal at the counter, sharing a bottle of wine while they glare at a computer screen. Komal’s laugh is audible even through the thick glass.
I’d intended to go straight to Celeste for assistance, since she’s Arabella’s closest friend in the Coven, but Winnie tells me Celeste is away visiting her mother and can’t be reached, so I’m here to prostrate myself before these three intimidating women.
I knock on the window.
Isis’s face lights up when she sees me. She’s been fond of me ever since I carried her out of that secret room in Black Crag Castle after Baylor tried to husk her. She hurries over, her purple dress flaring out around her, and flings open the door.
“Gideon, come in, come in!” She grabs my wrist and yanks me inside.
A shop bell plays a tinny bar of “Black Magic Woman”. Smells assail me from all sides, as if I’ve wandered into a Roman army camp after they pillaged a perfume shop. The mild woody scent of sandalwood mixes with fruity, floral ylang-ylang and the unmistakable tang of marijuana from the shop’s clientele. And rising above it all, the delicious waft of human blood from the three Nevermore Coven members. I pinch my nose in an attempt to keep out the competing scents and follow Isis deeper into the shop, being careful not to knock over any of the precariously balanced crystals or grinning Buddha statues. I cannot afford any karmic retribution where Arabella is concerned. Ordinary, everyday Arabella retribution is hard enough on my poor vampire body.
“What can we do for you?” Isis breathes, her cheeks flushed. “Anything you need, on the house. I can tell your fortune if you like?”
“No thanks. I prefer to discover my future the old-fashioned way – by living it.”
She shrugs. “Your loss. If you walk off a cliff tomorrow, don’t come crying to me.”
“You see me walking off a cliff?”
Isis smiles mysteriously and taps the side of her head. “I see many things, Gideon Blake.”
“Mostly the bottom of this wine bottle.” Komal sloshes the nearly empty pinot gris. The two girls cackle with glee.
“We’re doing our taxes,” Isis explains as she pulls out a bedazzled ottoman for me to sit on. “Well, Dora is doing our taxes. Komal and I are lending moral support.”
“I’m plying Dora with Bollywood dances so she’ll do my taxes, too!” Komal does a little shimmy, twisting her hands around her head like a dysfunctional helicopter. “I’m no Arabella, but I think it’s working.”
“It’s not. Would you like a cup of tea, Gideon?” Dora calls from the back room. “I’ve just put on a fresh pot. We have a lovely tea for vampires distilled from dried blood.”
“Tea would be brilliant, thank you,” I call out.
“Sooooo,” Isis leans over the counter, head resting on her palms. Her various necklaces clank and clatter together. “If not a reading, what are you here for? Are we going to talk about how to catch this killer? Or is this about a certain lady you want to impress?”
“Isis has some great penis enlargement spells,” Komal giggles.
“I’m perfectly fine in that department, thank you.”
“That’s what all men who need the penis enlargement spell say.” Komal tosses a small bag of herbs at my head. I catch it and toss it back at her. She ducks and it hits a display of tarot decks, knocking down cases like celestial dominoes.
