Dave reappeared a moment later, still wearing his grubby dressing gown and characteristic scowl. He avoided looking me in the eye but thrust something at me. ‘Here,’ he grunted. ‘Take this.’
Um…
He pressed it into my hands. ‘Take it,’ he insisted.
I looked down at the small, carved wooden amulet that lay in my palm. It was intricately constructed and I knew from the hum of magic that emanated from it that it was both powerful and expensive. ‘Dave, this is too much.’
His scowl deepened further. ‘It’s a loan,’ he muttered. ‘Not a gift. You can return it when you get back. It’s made from rowan, a protective charm of the sort you don’t often get nowadays.’
I curled my fingers tightly around it and swallowed. ‘Thank you,’ I whispered. ‘I’ll do everything I can to make sure it gets back to you.’
He nodded. ‘I don’t know what you’re doing, girlie. Or why.’He wagged his finger. ‘But you’d better return. I hate those damned cats of yours and if you don’t come back I’ll use them for my next hotpot.’
As if.I smiled, hoping the lump in my throat would soon subside. ‘You’re one of the good ones, Dave.’
His cheeks coloured. ‘So are you.’ Then, doubtless because the swell of emotions was becoming too much for him, he slammed the door shut. I knew he was still there on the other side because I could sense his lingering presence.
The rowan charm was on a simple leather cord. I hung it around my neck and tucked it carefully beneath my shirt; it already felt warm against my skin. I placed the palm of my hand against Dave’s front door. He’d know what I was doing.
I bowed my head for a moment then I turned on my heel and headed for the street.
We weren’tthe only tram passengers but the other commuters gave us a wide berth. Frankly, if I got onto public transport and I was confronted by a werewolf dressed in black and carrying weapons, a cat with one ear wearing specially designed body armour, and a purple-haired woman with a glint of crazed determination in her eye, I’d have kept well away, too. We meant business and everyone realised it.
The tram driver was a witch whom I knew vaguely from other journeys. When we hopped off at Crackendon Square she called, ‘I hope it goes well for you. Don’t kill anyone unless they really deserve it!’
I glanced at She Without An Ear. ‘Welcome to Coldstream,’ I murmured. The cat purred in response and Thane grinned.
We crossed the square quickly and took the shortest route to Hirsel Street; at the pace we maintained, it was littlemore than a ten-minute walk. The sky was already lightening so there was no risk of any wandering vamps spotting us but I remained wary because other creatures besides the fanged ones knew of the Understream and frequented its depths.
Luckily, most of the passersby were too caught up in their own affairs to pay us any attention though one bleary-eyed drunk, staggering home after a night on the tiles, lurched in our direction.
‘Cat!’ he exclaimed to nobody in particular. ‘Look! A cat!’ He crouched down as if he wanted to scoop She Without An Ear into his arms. She snarled, hissed, then snapped at his outstretched fingers. Sensibly, he pulled away and we continued the rest of our journey unimpeded.
Most of the pubs and bars were still open; actually, they never really closed because Coldstream’s party central catered for all Preternaturals, regardless of their nocturnal or diurnal proclivities. Hirsel Street itself was almost empty, however. Only a slow-moving wirry cow disposing of the weekly rubbish was making her way towards us. We nodded a silent greeting as we passed her.
Cold Tones, the karaoke bar, came into view. ‘Okay,’ I said quietly. ‘We’ll go in together and order a drink. All I know is that the entrance point to the Understream is somewhere beneath the stage. We’ll have to look for it without anyone realising what we’re doing and then slip in unnoticed when we can.’
From her spot by my feet, She Without An Ear miaowed. I inclined my head. ‘Thank you.’
Thane raised his eyebrows in question and I nodded. ‘Yes.’
He took my hand and squeezed it. ‘Then let’s do this.’
I squared my shoulders and we marched to the door.
Although the strains of music were faint from outside, oncewe entered the bar they were much louder. It was all a bit much for this time of the morning.
A pixie was on the stage, belting out ‘Come on Eileen’ as if her life depended on it. The smattering of people inside certainly appreciated her efforts and were joining in the chorus, adding claps and foot thumps when required.
Thane and I drew into a shadowy alcove. As I’d said aloud to Thane, I planned to buy a couple of drinks so as not to draw attention, but from the distant look on the bartender’s face she didn’t care whether I spent any money or not.
She Without An Ear wasted no time in weaving her way through the tables and chairs to the stage. I watched her for as long as I could, but when she vanished behind the backdrop I leaned against Thane and checked out the other customers. Nobody was taking any notice of us. I smiled grimly.
‘So far so good,’ Thane murmured in my ear.
Indeed. Although there was a lot that could go wrong and this was an incredibly risky operation, I was a one-problem-at-a-time kind of person. Getting into the Understream was the first problem but so far we were on schedule and about to solve that particular problem. I wasn’t happy – but I was satisfied.
One minute ticked by, then another. The pixie yielded the stage to a bearded troll who appeared to have a penchant for Britney Spears. I twitched and waited for She Without An Ear to return but there was no sign of her.
