He scanned the list, putting names to faces. The gangly white man with a prematurely greying ponytail was Trace Dempsey, and the short pale woman with a faraway expression in her matching pale eyes and patchwork clothing was Clancy Weatherfield. They were two of the three witches present, but to be honest, with those names and without their photographs, it could have been the other way around. He was pretty sure he’d have known what they were without the list. Rosie Anderson, the third of the witches present, was a bit of an enigma. She didn’t reek of the same standard old magic as Clancy in particular, but of something less refined, possibly newer magic, untamed and full of mystery. Blonde and busty, with a pronounced Glaswegian accent, she also stank of sex — and specifically, Dalziel.
“Should’ve known he couldn’t keep his hands off a pretty blonde,” he whispered to Alec with a sneer. More evidence, if it was needed, that his sire preferred women. The unwelcome knowledge lodged in his heart, making him sigh.
Alec touched his hip, a lightning press of his fingers designed to comfort. “Do not fret, you have bigger and better fish to fry.” He winked, then Sorley watched his friend track Gethin’s progress across the room to speak with Luc and Charley. The big wolf scrubbed up well, in a fitted suit of dark grey cloth, cut to accentuate his thighs and biceps without making him look like a badly-stuffed sausage. A pale blue shirt and royal blue tie, with matching pocket handkerchief, ruined Sorley’s vow to not even think of the man for the rest of the night.
It was Gethin who asked out loud why they were still waiting. “I see there’s a Pilar expected—” He glanced up as if unsure of the pronunciation. “—but are we really waiting on the Fae to appear? They have such a warped sense of time as it is.”
Dalziel ushered the Anderson woman to a seat and tucked her chair in for her. She shot him a small but intimate smile as he took a seat next to her: Sorley averted his gaze as his sire returned the look.Urgh.It looked as if they were holding hands.
“We should begin.” Justin’s modulated rumble cut across the remaining chitchat. He caught Dalziel’s eye, who nodded. Sorley felt his stomach go into freefall. This was about him, or rather about all the poor sods who’d ended up hurt, or worse — he had unfortunately recognised the dead man as someone he’d had a dalliance with — because of him. Who hated him so much they were intent on destroying other folks’ lives?
With everyone seated, the absence of the Fae was marked. Charley, looking very young and nervous, addressed his father.
“Is it because of me they’re not coming? Because they don’t like my mixed blood?” His lower lip bore evidence he’d been gnawing at it; it appeared the meeting was a source of discomfort for him too.I hear you, kid.
“Absolutely not,” Dalziel pushed a wave of assurance across the polished wood towards his son at the same time Luc growled, “Better fucking not be.” After a brief glance that swept the room, Dalziel continued. “Like Gethin says, the Fae have a peculiar aversion to Earth time.” He smiled softly and added, “Which isn’t usually a problem, but I’d have appreciated a heads up if nobody was planning on attending. An issue like this requires as many perspectives as possible.”
“You don’t think their absence might point to their potential guilt? It would be pretty ballsy to rock up here if they’re somehow involved in the attacks.” Luc again.
Dalziel and half a dozen others inhaled sharply. Sorley choked back a snort of laughter: the shifter pup was ballsy himself to voice that opinion at a Council meeting.
Dalziel answered as if the wolf child hadn’t just risked igniting a war with his hotheaded suggestion. “No, I don’t think so. We can’t be a hundred per cent sure of anything right now, but I had a message from Volik himself expressing outrage at the attacks. He’s a man of few words, so for him to make a public stand would suggest he’s confident there are no Fae involved.” He hesitated, then pressed on. “And that kind of Fae magic would leave a residue that even humans could potentially have picked up on, so no, while I understand the question, I—”
His reply was cut short by the distinctive thwap-thwap of helicopter blades overhead. Everyone’s eyes swivelled to the windows.
Dalziel stood and crossed to open the heavy curtains. Charley giggled. “If that’s the Fae, I thought they had their own wings. Coming in a chopper issodramatic.”
Everyone around the table bit back their smiles. The one person Sorley hadn’t yet got a handle on, an unremarkable but pleasant-looking man of indeterminate age, spoke softly to the boy, although his words somehow resonated around the room.
“The effort of remaining undetected by humans, to become and stay invisible, plus the strain of flying any long distance in this dimension, would require more magic than is wise if a Fae wishes to participate in a meeting of this kind. Your question shows you still have plenty to learn about your heritage. I am sure your father will have many books on the subject for you to read and absorb.”
Charley nodded vigorously. “Thank you, um, Marlowe? Is it okay to call you Marlowe?”
Marlowe inclined his head. “It is. You’re doing well, recalling so many names at your first Council meeting. I imagine it must be quite overwhelming for you.”
Charley glanced at Luc, who had slung a protective arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders when the mage started speaking. “I dunno. It beats chasing all over the country to avoid a bunch of fuckers who wanted me dead or hurt. Well,” his eyes softened, “apart from the whole being with Luc part, which was awesome. I’m not fussed about this meeting really. Dad says everyone’s super important and all that, but they’re just people. We all want the same thing, to stop anyone else getting hurt.”
“Amen to that,” murmured Dalziel’s PA, an attractive middle-aged human woman named Eleanor. Sorley liked Eleanor. She was both motherly and frighteningly efficient and had what he suspected was a decades-long crush on her boss, even though it never stopped her from calling Dalziel out on anything she deemed problematic in his behaviour. She always made sure to check up on Sorley when he visited, her questions more probing than he’d have allowed from almost anyone else, but from her he knew it stemmed from a sincere desire to help.
Justin’s voice broke the expectant hush. “So, can you see Pilar? Whoever it is isn’t exactly rushing and they’re already late.”
“I do have security posted in the grounds, you know.” Dalziel sounded amused. “A thorough grilling by a few of my thugs sorts the wheat from the chaff. Although there’s no doubt it’s the Fae. I can see more than one of our winged cousins. Not sure if Pilar is one of them.”
“You don’t employ thugs,” Eleanor contradicted him with a snap. “I’ll get the door.”
She headed for the door but a sudden, “Wellfuck,” uttered quietly but with feeling, made her pause.
“Dalziel?” Several of the Council were on their feet, including Sorley.
His sire turned back to face the room. “Volik himself has come.” He beckoned to Eleanor. “Sit down, please. I shall welcome them personally.” He strode to the door, pausing to palm Charley’s shoulder as he passed. Without turning around he said, “Eleanor, inform Pavel we have three Fae guests. Charley, Gethin, you will come with me.”
23
GETHIN
Gethin followedDalziel and Charley along the passageways, puzzled as to what Dalziel might require of him. He didn’t have to wait long.
“I need you to read the room with every sense you’ve got while the meeting is on. I could be preoccupied with our tardy guests.” A quick hitch of his eyebrows indicated the grounds beyond the house. “I’m specifically interested in the witches, Trace and Clancy, and Marlowe, the mage. Can you manage all three?”
