Marlowe gulped. “Look, it’s not something I can personally prove, but I’ve heard it a lot over the years. There’s a rumour that we, that is, mages, are descended from a bloodline that came from the sea.”
“The mer then,” Edwin prompted.
Marlowe shook his head. “No, separate from them. Something maybe even older. It would make sense when you consider the number of things we can’t explain.”
“Like what?” Luc said, one hand entangled in Charley’s hair as he held him firmly with the other.
“Our skin markings. Look.” Marlowe tugged off his sweater and began rolling up his shirt sleeves. Sorley caught a whiff of his scent and felt his hackles rise. Whatwasit about this man he’d never laid eyes on before this evening that was creeping him out so much?
Alec stiffened by his side. “He smells bad,” he whined. “I don’t like it.”
Gethin was up and out of his seat, moving to loom protectively over Sorley’s chair before Sorley could react to his friend’s statement. The wolf growled and his claws shot out, his need to protect evident by the way he was obviously fighting not to shift. Justin and Susan were on their feet too, then Edwin and Dalziel, prompted by their visceral instinct to see wolves as a threat. Charley whimpered and shoved his face into Luc’s chest. The Fae and the witches, Clancy and Trace, all froze. Eleanor paused with her pen in one hand and the fingers of her other wrapped around her tea, looking wary.
With a put-upon sigh, Rosie Anderson got carefully to her feet. She tapped Marlowe on the shoulder. “Maybe don’t be stripping off right the now, laddie. Let’s sort this out first. Just you stay nice and still a minute.” She poked a polish-tipped finger at Dalziel’s chest. “You, sit down. You too, Edwin, and the rest of you.” She waved her hand around the table. “Swear to God, it’s a miracle the bloody Council ever made it through its inaugural meeting at this rate.”
Sorley’s lips twitched. Even though discomfort over the mage still swamped him, Rosie had a way of cutting through the atmosphere that made him feel everything might turn out all right. Plus she got bonus points for daring to tell Dalziel to sit down. He thought perhaps Baxter was the only other person who could get away with that. He still didn’t like the fact his sire was sleeping with the witch, but he could admire Rosie as a person.
Everyone apart from Gethin did as Rosie commanded, their eyes wide and distrustful, their movements slow. Rosie glared at Gethin.
“You too, pal, c’mon. Shove Mr Wolf back in his box and Return. To. Your. Seat. Nice ’n easy now.” Her tone wavered but there was a note of command in it that made Sorley think of thrall. He idly wondered if Dalziel’s interest in the witch was for more than her pretty face and shapely arse.
Gethin snarled softly but his claws retracted and he clumped back to his chair, resisting the urge to sit until Rosie made an echoing snarl in the back of her throat.
“Right, that’s better. Eleanor, hen, d’you mind hitting the wee button to call the lovely Pavel in please? Nothing like a nice cuppa to settle some ruffled supernatural feathers, aye?”
Eleanor did as Rosie asked. Everyone sat in breathless silence as Pavel arrived, gulped quietly at the assorted expressions of the assembled group, then hurried off to bring the requested refreshments.
Rosie perched on the edge of her seat, looking thoughtful. Eventually she spoke.
“Sorley, Alec, yous both feel extremely uncomfortable around Marlowe. Why? Are you able to explain? Alec first please.”
Alec placed his hands on the table in front of him, clasped as if trying to bolster his self-confidence. He glanced apologetically at Marlowe, then looked at Rosie.
“His scent. I beg your forgiveness, Marlowe, as this is going to sound very offensive, but I find it hard to be in the same room as you right now. And yet I do not understand why.” Rosie made a ‘go on’ gesture. “To my knowledge we have not met before. I am not certain if I have ever met a mage, although I would deem it rather unlikely that I havenot,but your scent truly repels me. Do you perhaps all smell the same? In which case why was I not bothered before now?”
“Oh my God,” Sorley breathed. “That’s it. It’s notyou.”He pointed at Marlowe. “It’s someone whose scent reminds me of you. Reminds us both of you. How did it take me so damned long to join the dots?” He sagged, propping his head on his hands as the realisation hit him.It’s the same scent from the night I was attacked, I’m sure of it.
Volik caught Rosie’s attention and she gestured for him to speak. All hints of his earlier flirtatious manner was gone and he was solemn as he asked, “Are we to assume that mage magic is behind the attacks? That is a serious allegation and problematic too.
“I believe a mage has to swear allegiance to use their magic for good, not ill. It becomes a bond within them, am I correct? Marlowe, without further distressing our vampire brethren, I think you were about to illustrate this?”
Marlowe looked green but he nodded. “It’s true, my Lord. We do swear an oath, first to our families and community but latterly to the Council, that we will only ever use our powers for good.” He gazed around the room. “We have markings on our skin, like the faintest imprint of an old tattoo, if you can imagine such a thing. Some of the markings are reminiscent of scales, hence my earlier comment about a common ancestor in the sea. In those of us marked as being of the old blood line, they are present at birth, but not everyone has the magic running through them in such a way as to be useful for more than helping our crops grow a little bigger or staunching a small wound within seconds. The stuff mundanes think nothing of, as there have been healers since the world began. Maybe you’re the kind of person who always has good weather for important occasions, or always has the exact change you need for the coffee at the marketplace.” He took a glug of the tea he had asked for and exhaled.
“If we are more able, it starts to show alongside the darkening of our markings. But only when we swear our allegiance does the bond take and the markings move.”
Charley gasped. Sorley watched as Luc’s arms tightened around him, the press of the young shifter’s lips clearly illustrating his own discomfort.
Rosie looked taken-aback but her tone was level as she repeated, “Move?”
Marlowe affirmed her question. “Not massively, but yes. They…ripple, I suppose you’d say. That’s why you’ll rarely, if ever, see a mage without long sleeves and trousers, or thick tights. Having them on show can freak people out.”
“That explains a lot,” muttered Dalziel. Rosie turned her attention to him and he shrugged. “I knew of the markings, but not that they moved.”
“Same,” Justin offered. He fixed every person present with a hard stare. “This is something intensely private that we have ordered Marlowe to share. The information he has given us does not leave this room. You do not mention it. You do not even, orespecially, discuss this as pillow talk. Is this understood?” He waited until everyone gave him a verbal agreement before instructing Eleanor to make two distinct copies of the minutes. “We shall discuss where to store the non-redacted copy later. For now, Dalziel, can you find a secure location here?”
Dalziel murmured his assent. “Now we need to go back to the possibility of your people having come from the sea,” he said to Marlowe. “If that’s true, then what Clancy said means someone is controlling and using one of your lot, because I can’t imagine a mage working alone and breaking the terms of their bond for this reason. Andthatis fucking unsettling.” His hazel eyes considered the mage. “Your scent is slightly brackish, reminiscent of sea water. It’s light, and I find any hint of the sea pleasing so it hadn’t particularly registered with me. Do you know if others of your kind smell the same?”
“They do.” Gethin scraped a hand through his beard. “Like you, Millar, I wouldn’t have given it any thought before now, but I’ve met a couple of mages and yes, they all have that mild briny tang to their scent.” He didn’t look in Sorley’s direction as he confessed, “I kind of like it.” Sorley felt the words like a punch to the gut, but even he could tell Gethin was aiming to be conciliatory at a difficult time, so with some effort he vowed not to take it personally.
