“So,” Neele’s musical inflection cut across the sombre mood, “do we think someone is controlling a mage? Or is a mage using their powers alone with ill intent?”
“‘He seeks vengeance with the powers of the sea-born’.” Susan parroted Clancy’s words. “That definitely sounds as if our bad guy is using a mage. But how?”
Dalziel looked as if he’d ingested poisoned blood. “Thrall is the obvious answer, but it would need to be a fairly powerful vampire to keep a mage in check.” His sigh was profound. “I think we need to assume this is the case for now. Sorley and Alec both had a definite negative reaction to Marlowe’s scent, which points us to another mage.” His gaze swept the room. “Are we in agreement this is the wisest place to begin narrowing down our search? Quick show of hands please.”
Everyone agreed. “We’ll take a break,” Justin announced to sighs of what sounded like relief. “We shall convene back here in an hour. If anyone isn’t sure where their room is, Charley, Luc, Eleanor or Pavel will be happy to show them. Please be respectful and don’t wander about too much. This is Dalziel’s private home as well as our temporary meeting place. We are very grateful to have such a gracious host. Let’s not take advantage of his generosity.”
25
GETHIN
Gethin had intendedto take Sorley aside and ask him how he was holding up, but as he grabbed a mug of tea he saw Sorley slip into a side room with Alec hot on his heels. It wasn’t a door labelled for use by the attendees, so he assumed they had permission from Dalziel. The reminder that Sorley had a whole lifetime of shared experiences with the senior vampire stuck in Gethin’s craw. When he examined the reason, he didn’t much like the answer.You’re jealous, plain and simple.
He scowled into the depths of his brew.
“It’s all a bit shit, isn’t it?” Charley’s usually chipper tone was laced with cynicism. Gethin looked up to see the boy’s filterless mouth wrapped around the neck of a bottle of spirits, vodka if he wasn’t mistaken. The label had been shredded, but the distinctive aroma was escaping to perfume the air of the corridor they were standing in.
He eyed the bottle. “Getting drunk at a Council meeting is rather frowned upon.”
“Pshaw.” Charley’s eyebrows disappeared under his messy hairline. “Like I care about the rules. What’s anyone gonna do, tell Daddy on me?” His eyes glittered dangerously for a few seconds, then his bravado vanished and he wrapped his arms around his torso, looking more like a young teenager than the man of almost twenty Gethin knew him to be.
“It’s alot,you know?” he whispered. “I mean, I know my dad’s a vampire and all that. And Luc’s a wolf. But fucking ’ell, Gethin, Alec is sixhundredyears old! That’s like, ancient. I don’t even dare ask about the Fae. I don’t think I want to know.” He gulped. “I’m ’pparently related to Volik. What a fucking trip! He’s a total badass ain’t he? I don’t need to know my family history to work that out. He looks like he’d have your bollocks as a snack just cos he was feeling mean.” He snorted, then hiccoughed, making Gethin wonder how much he’d drunk this evening, before letting loose a slightly hysterical giggle. “I don’t mean eating you in a good way either. He’d make ithurt.”
Gethin agreed, but he didn’t think it would help Charley any to feed his trepidation. He changed the subject.
“Where’s Luc got to? Not like him to be far from your side.” It was an educated guess that, judging by the combination of scents leeching off the kid along with the vodka fumes, Luc and Charley were usually joined at the hip. Gethin wondered if other supernaturals experienced him and Sorley in the same can’t-tell-them-apart way. He suddenly found himself hoping that Justin’s prediction about the meeting being his official coming out was true. Being branded as Sorley’s made him feel warm and fuzzy. He was also comforted that Council business was forbidden from being discussed in public, so coming out was limited to those in the room.
Charley frowned. “He’s got some drama going on at Milton’s. Something about sponsoring a Pride event in the town where their headquarters is. The board are split down the middle about putting their name to the event because it could backfire on them or some shit. It’s a few dozen bottles of condiments for the food vans. How in hell’s name is that going to wreck a company of their size, even if the bigots do throw a tantrum? Who evenwantsto sell to wankers like that? They can have the value brand supermarket crap and I hope they fucking choke on it.” He grinned. “Anyway, Luc is supposed to be down south arguing the toss in person, but he said this meeting was more important. So he’s in the library on a conference call with his granddad and someone else, working overtime, trying to sort out fuck knows what.” His mouth pursed as if he was thinking. “Where’s your piece of hot stuff?”
Vexed that he couldn’t manage ten minutes without his thoughts circling back to the bloodsucking object of his affections, Gethin ignored the question and nudged Charley.
“How about we head outside for some fresh air? You don’t really want to be three-quarters vodka for the rest of the night, do you?”
Charley eyed him through slitted lids. “Not really,” he admitted. “Although it takes a fuck load to actually get me drunk. But it wouldn’t reflect well on Dad if I smell like I’m steaming.”
They went down the front steps and at Charley’s instigation headed across the wide expanse of green towards a tower on the other side of the lawn. Charley told him it had been one of Dalziel’s renovation projects, along with a number of small cottages on the far side of the estate.
“He’s teaching me how to restore the cottages,” he said, his tone more animated. “He used to live in one, with his wife and kids. I thought it would be painful, having the reminder, but he says it’s the opposite. He says it helps him keep a hold on his humanity, or what’s left of it.” He grimaced. “Seems kinda spooky to me, but it’s not hurting anyone and I’m getting dead good at lime plastering now.”
“That’s good, to have something to occupy you while you sort out the rest of your life,” Gethin said neutrally. Charley agreed.
They reached the base of the tower. Charley slapped the stone wall with his palm. “I like this place. It’s gorgeous inside. Luc and I toyed with moving in, but it’s a bit far from the house for meals.” His grin was unapologetic. “I’m way too incompetent to cook everything myself and Luc would stink the place out cooking sausages all the time.”
“Pavel would deliver,” Gethin remarked with an echoing smile.
“Which is another reason not to move here. He does so much already.” Charley sighed. “I really don’t want to add to his burdens. He’s a weird one, but I like him, you know?”
Gethin did know. The shadow was a closed book, but he had a way of putting folk at their ease which endeared him to most of Dalziel’s guests.
Both men started when a figure appeared from the shade of a tree behind the tower. He smiled shyly, then made a half bow to Charley, his eyes flickering uncertainly between the pair of them.
“Isher, isn’t it?” Charley seemed instantly cheered. “Did you have something to eat and drink? I know Pavel made a blueberry mousse because we thought some Fae were coming. I had three pots of it before he chased me out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon. There’s bound to be some left; he always over caters.”
Isher blinked at the rapid-fire delivery. “I didn’t know that, but I shall maybe try some later, thank you.” He eyed Charley. “You can conjure the elements, can’t you?”
Charley stiffened a little. “Umm, kind of…I wouldn’t say it’s something I can control. Well, there was the other day I sort of stared at my glass and made my drink colder because it hadn’t been in the fridge very long and…”
And he was off. Gethin clasped Charley’s shoulder lightly to say he was leaving. He retraced his steps across the lawn until he reached the house, where he veered to the right and circumnavigated the square tower wing to reach the back lawns. It was silly to hope he might catch a glimpse of—
