He shrugs and finishes the bottle in a second gulp. ‘Happy to support Kinfolk enterprises,’ he says, before pouring himself two fingers of my top-shelf whisky and downing that just as quickly. ‘Even if I still don’t understand why the Hunters get to control St Marnox.’
‘Because if someone has bested us to get there, we’re stuck with looking after them. Consider it motivation for every hunt to end as it should,’ I point out.
The conversation moves on, but I notice Vittoria glance at Chris more than once. He downs several more bottles of Stox at speed and I can see the concern in her eyes.
‘It’s just as well you’re Kin,’ I point out to Chris. ‘A human would be seeing monsters in every shadow by this time.’
‘Why bother looking for monsters in the shadows,’ Chris says. ‘I can see you all right in front of me sitting in chairs.’
‘Enough!’ Vittoria says, grabbing the bottle of Stox from his hand and taking it over to the drinks tray. She screws the lid on and pours him a glass of water, handing it to him. ‘It allows us to control humans, Chris. We’re not supposed to get addicted to it ourselves.’
Stox is sold as a craft beer, a branded version of a substance that we’ve been using for thousands of years to, under certain circumstances, control any human who ingests it. A perfect system, since it doesn’t show up in human lab work. It’s not exactly a drug. It’s been called different things over the centuries. Fairy food. Magic.
Stox is only one way in which we offer this substance to humans and it’s proved surprisingly successful. A putrid, herbal concoction, it has been brewed by monks, ironically enough, for the past seven or eight hundred years– maybe even longer– at St Marnox, a former monastery on the edge of the Highlands, which exists simultaneously in both the human world and the Underworld.
St Marnox hasn’t had anything to do with any established church for more than a millennium although somehow no one ever thinks to check. It’s an extremely picturesque, thin place, leading to an area of the Underworld which doubles as a sanctuary for any accused Kinfolk fortunate enough to escape me hunting them down. Anyone can visit it in the human world, although it’s something we discourage. St Marnox is not under the rule of the King, but The Unseelie Court, and it’s considered a punishment for my family that we are bound to ensure the wellbeing of any who evade us during the hunt and reach its sanctuary. Most residents, however, call it a prison as there’s no escape, except death or to face trial at The Unseelie Court.
Still, despite Stox’s foul taste, and its reputation– or perhaps because of that– it’s the most popular drink in the city. I’ve lost count of the number of licences my family has been granted thanks to the fact that Stox makes humans extremely persuadable. On the flip side, we do get to keep the income from the brewery which is significant and the main reason why my family can afford the lifestyle and status that we’ve come to enjoy.
‘Don’t be such a fucking snob, Vittoria. The taste reminds me of home.’
‘If you’re so homesick, Chris, maybe you should consider spending some time in the Underworld.’
‘But it’s so much more entertaining here, dear sister. Especially watching you trying to control Dad and get him to make you his heir instead of me.’
A hush falls across the room, as everyone’s conversations come to a halt. It’s no secret just how much Vittoria desires to rule The Unseelie Court. Her ruthless nature would undoubtedly mean change for the Kin, but her father, Vincenzo, is determined to follow tradition, and it’s not just him. When the Blight hit, both The Seelie and Unseelie Courts were ruled by queens, but since then the patriarchy has taken over and rewritten the rules– using this fact as justification why women shouldn’t rule the Court. There hasn’t even been an Unseelie queen since Vincenzo’s wife died almost twenty years ago. There were no other suitable women in that generation, and if he had remarried someone not born of the Court, he’d have had to give up his throne. And the only way Vincenzo will do that is over his dead body. Possibly the only thing we have in common.
I shake my head, leaving Vittoria to have a go at her brother while my thoughts return to Niamh. She’s… I’m not sure what she is, exactly, other than lingering unexpectedly in my thoughts.
I wonder how well Niamh really knows Rose. My sister has secrets, she’s vivacious, volatile– and the only reason I’ve allowed her relationship with Matt Muir to progress is that he seems to keep her out of trouble. I wonder, would Niamh be capable of drawing me out of my own darkness? I stare into the mirror above the fireplace, barely seeing my friends reflected in it. No, the vision in my mind’s eye is so much more appealing. Niamh, running from me but looking back. Tempted. Unsure whether to run or surrender?—
The sound of cheering from the other room breaks my train of thought. I frown, my sister’s party is interrupting the business I need to conduct with the Kin.
‘Seven minutes, starting now!’ someone shouts, and a door slams shut. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, reminding myself that Rose is no longer a child, despite the game they’ve chosen to play, and she won’t thank me for interfering with her life. A wave of brotherly protectiveness comes over me. If any of the guys here does anything to upset her or harm her, they’re going to wish they’d never been born.
‘I wonder what poor bastard will end up having to kiss Rose’s virginal friend?’ Vittoria ponders. I fight to keep my expression neutral as her face twists into a nasty smirk. I have a sudden urge to march down there and take Niamh away from every single last one of them. Most of them are my friends– or Rose’s. Acquaintances at least. All Kinfolk, with the exception of Niamh.
‘Well, I for one wouldn’t say no to solving that problem for her.’ Chris raises his glass.
‘Have some self-respect. Really, Cillian, I can’t imagine why your sister even invited her. She’s utterly out of her depth. Poor girl. You should have sent her home.’ Vittoria sneers at me.
I tense, about to snap back at her, before remembering that it is not wise to encourage Vittoria’s clear, spiteful jealousy.
‘Right,’ Chris slams his glass down on a table and rubs his hand together. ‘Well, I’m going next door to the fun party.’
We all watch as he barrels out the room.
‘Go with him, would you?’ I ask Aiden, nicely. He might work for me, but he’s a friend, too.
Vittoria sits in a dark cloud of silence beside me, before she gets up and goes to stare out the window into the dark garden. I move to stand behind her, putting my arms around her and pulling her back against me.
‘You’re intrigued by her, aren’t you?’ she asks.
‘Who?’ I bluff.
Vittoria turns in my arms and puts her arms around me, pressing her body against mine and capturing my lips in a kiss. Uncaring if there’s anyone in the garden who can see us, she runs her hand over my cock, her lips curving when she feels me harden beneath her. She rubs slowly, with frustratingly languid movements, taunting my desire, before she pulls away suddenly. I expect her to take my hand and pull me into a more secluded part of the house, somewhere I can play with her, taking what’s mine and forcing pleasure out of us both. To my disappointment, she doesn’t.
‘I should take my brother home,’ she says, moving towards the door. I don’t follow her right away, forcing my body under my control before turning to see her check her appearance in the ornate mirror on the sitting room wall. She smiles seductively at me, then leaves the room.
