“You magicked that bag the night James was sick, didn’t you?” Edwin challenged. “Iknewthat wasn’t witchcraft. How come you’ve not been doing other magic?”
I’d been expecting this. “The bag wasn’t for my benefit,” I explained quietly. “There was no absolute guarantee it would work, but the fates were kind to me that time. I haven’t even been able to do toddler-level magic for myself for a century.”
The set of his mouth was terse, but he gave me a nod.
We sat in a circle. Edwin found a bottle of wine and he and Baxter got stuck in. I refused, wanting a clear head, so James made me a herbal tea. Terrance joined us, his eyes solemn as he perched on a fork handle. I’d have rather he sat on my shoulder, but perhaps he wasn’t comfortable with how I looked now. He’d come to me back in the 1960s, out of the blue when I’d lived in a tiny stone cottage on the outskirts of Strandhill, Co. Sligo, eking out a living and attempting not to starve to death. I’d never got to the bottom of his appearance out of nowhere, and he’d never told me. I’d been grateful for his company and we’d become…friends, I guess. It had seemed like a spectacularfuck youfrom the universe togift me a bird familiar when my own wings had been bound, but I’d grown to love him nonetheless.
Edwin broke the silence with a wry chuckle. “You know the other week, when you said everyone has secrets and we’ll find them out when we need to know?”
“Yes?” I hedged.
You weren’t kidding, were you? ‘Need to know’, I think you said.” His sapphire eyes narrowed. “So what changed? How come we’re suddenly seeing the real you? Was your sentence on a timer and you just got parole?”
Baxter giggled. “God, you’re so dense, it worries me at times.”
Edwin shot her a filthy look. “You’ve been no fucking help, so don’t laugh at me now. Least you could have done was clue me in. I feel like a right tit.” He gasped. “It gets worse! If you knew,then Dalziel knew too, didn’t he? And Justin? Who else? Volik, I suppose, but that’s hardly a shock in the circumstances.” He scowled again.
“Calm down, for fuck’s sake. Of course Volik knew. He’d have to. It was one of Neele’s sisters who placed the curse on Trace. And yes, Dalziel knew, and Justin, but they didn’t tell Clancy, who was invited to join at the same time, or even Dexter.”
“Dexter? Oh yes, the mage who got himself killed in the Alps. I’d forgotten about him.” Edwin took a swig of wine straight from the bottle and grimaced. “What I don’t get is why I’m never included. Like, never.” His bitterness was palpable.
Baxter tched. “Need to know basis. It was Dalziel’s idea to set up the Council with Trace and Justin, so they both had to know. They needed me for laying believable computer trails, even back then.” She ticked off on her fingers. “Volik and Neele, for obvious reasons. Trace couldn’t even tell anyone what the issue was. Had to suggest Dalziel spoke to Volik.” She turned her attention on me. “Serious kudos, by the way, for keeping such a cool head at the big meeting over Sorley and the Cormack business. I confess I voted against your being invited, but Dalziel insisted you’d be professional. Which you were.”
“Didn’t have much choice, but thank you.” It had stung not to even be acknowledged, but my kinsfolk were superb at compartmentalising.
Baxter returned to Edwin. “Okay, mate, you’re not going to like this, but hear me out. That was five people who knew one secret. Most would argue that’s four people too many to keep it a secret, but we did, all of us, for over thirty years, although” — she caught my eye again — “I understand Dalziel had already guessed?” I inclined my head in agreement. “There was one more person involved. He had to be, for reasons. We chose the best.”
“I don’t like riddles at the best of times. Spit it out, Bax.” Edwin’s fingers clenched and unclenched on the arms of the garden chair.
“We needed a forger. Trace didn’t have papers that would stand up to anything but the barest scrutiny. And of course he’s had them updated a couple of times since then, mostly with his ‘date of birth’.” Her voice was small, her stance tense.
Edwin’s face fell. “You really know how to wound a bloke, sis. I thoughtIwas the Council’s best forger.” I itched to reach across and comfort him but held still, wary of how this might play out.
Baxter heaved a sigh. Her expression was sorrowful as she said quietly, “Youarethe best, babes. You totally nailed it, every time. Then Dalziel wiped your memory.”
His roar rattled the windows. “You fuckingwhat!?”On his feet faster than I could blink, he was nose to nose with Baxter, fangs bared in a snarl.
“Don’t shoot the messenger, bruv. This was agreed by everyone else. Above my pay grade. Only reason he didn’t wipe mine is cos they needed me to keep shit up to date. Check for weaknesses in the system. Look out for cracks. Or I’d have been in the dark just the same as you.”
“You fucking lied to me!”
“Lie of omission!” she yelled back.
“Guys, please…” James, his hands over his ears, looked anguished. He’d slid so far down in his chair he was likely to end up underneath it.
I stood up. Cracked my knuckles. “Eddie…”
“Fuck off out of this,Thèlo.Sibling stuff.” He gestured to Baxter. “Over there?”
“You’ll lose, little brother.” But she followed him into the space between the fruit trees,myfruit trees.I stood rooted to the spot, my heart in shreds at the callous way he’d spat my real name at me as if it were tainted.
40
EDWIN
It wasover before I managed to sling even one punch. Somehow, Baxter sidestepped me, cracked me one under the jaw that made blood spurt from my tongue as my teeth clacked, then tripped me up with a round kick to the back of my knees and, as I fell, wrenched both arms behind my back. For good measure, I slammed my head into the trunk of an apple tree as I fell. Dazed from having my bell soundly rung, I lay there, undignified and aching, as she perched on my back, one hand cranking my arms up just a little more than was necessary and the other gripping my hair to remind me she had control of my neck.
I spat out a mouthful of blood — for some bizarre reason, vampires aren’t keen on their own, to prevent self-draining, probably — and whined, “Pax. I’m done.”
