Vowed (36 page)

‘I’m on it. Have Dante drop them in the, oh, never mind, they’ve just showed up. Okay, give me a few, I’ll call you back.’

‘Cheers,’ I say. ‘Have you heard from Aiden today?’

‘He rang maybe an hour ago to say he’s going to some meetings with his dad. And if you wanted him you just needed to call.’

I smile a wide smile. Things were almost back to normal between us. ‘Thanks, Kyle, you’re a real pal.’

‘Whatever. Must your life be this complicated, Kit?’

‘Work,’ I tell him. ‘Work your little fingers to the bone, Kyle Blackhart, so we can track this bugger and his pal and find those kids and steal them back.’

‘You think they’re still alive?’

‘Think about it – why would you strike a bargain with some stranger so you can take their child . . . and then kill him or her? Seems a bit wasteful, right?’

‘Oh, I think I know who you mean.’ The voice on the phone belongs to Neville Clarke, one of the main organizers for the Folk and Indie Harvest Festival.
‘Don’t bother sending the photos through, I’m looking at the site now. The “staff” gallery, right?’

Neville Clarke sounds exactly the way he looks from his photo on the site’s website: a large robust man in his sixties, with massive forearms and the kind of craggy face you only get to
see on people who spend most of their time outdoors.

‘That’s the German boy. He comes every year. Stella, what is his name?’

I look at Dante and we share a smile. Stella is the one who answered the phone when we called the number on the website. From the sound of it she’s overrun with questions from a lot of
children’s voices demanding her attention. When Neville answered he excused himself for a few moments to send his granddaughter off to go and play with her siblings.

‘Sorry, just bear with me.’ Neville’s voice becomes muffled as he presses the handset against his chest, no doubt. There’s a dog barking somewhere in the background and
it sounds like utter madness. ‘Hello? Yes, Stella thinks his name is Theodore Pfeiffer. Like I said, he comes every year with his father. His father is Ulrich.’

‘Are they an act?’ Dante’s doing his cop impression and it seems to work fine.

‘Yes, they travel with some of the professional Renaissance performers and do odd jobs around the place as required. They are also the core of the musician group. Sorry, who did you say
this was?’

‘My name is Dante Alexander, sir. I’m with the SDI in London. Would you like the number to ring my superior?’

‘You’re a policeman?’

‘My department is an investigative department within the police.’

‘Interesting. Yes, give me your superior’s contact information while you’re at it. What else do you need to know?’

‘Do you know where we can get hold of this Ulrich and Theodore Pfeiffer?’ Dante asks him after rattling off his office number and his superior’s name.

‘One moment.’ There is more yelling for Stella in the background. ‘I’m giving you to Stella. She’ll be able to locate the files.’

‘Thank you for your assistance, sir.’

‘You’re welcome. Can you tell me what this is about?’

‘I’m afraid we can’t, sir, not until we’ve completed our investigation.’

‘Are they in trouble?’

‘I can’t say anything about that either, I’m sorry.’

Neville Clarke mutters something and hands the phone over to his out-of-breath wife, Stella, who is all business but as friendly as her husband.

‘Theo and his dad travel around the UK and Europe for part of the year. They gave us this address.’ She reads it out and I scribble it down on the notepad. ‘I know they stay
with a relative in Dulwich for some of the time, but I don’t have their contact details there. I have Ulrich’s mobile number, though.’ She gives that to us too.

‘Mrs Clarke, you’ve been very helpful.’

Stella’s voice drops and I have the impression she’s walked some distance from her husband because the background noise of young voices sounds further away. ‘If they’ve
done anything wrong, you will let us know immediately? We can’t afford to have any negativity connected with the festival. It would mean the death of us.’

‘We’ll let you know within the month, Mrs Clarke. I’m really sorry to have bothered you about this.’

‘You’re more than welcome. Anything else we can do for you, do let us know.’

Dante hangs up and we stare at one another for a few seconds. I’ve looked up the address on my phone and it’s somewhere in the middle of the Black Forest in Germany.

‘What do you think?’

‘That, unless the Pfeiffers are in Dulwich, we’ll have to travel to Germany.’ I stifle a yawn and peer at Dante. His magic seems contained and I cautiously let mine drop to see
how I react to being around him. He seems pretty stable and I’m impressed that he’s not dropped the glamour on his horns the whole day we’ve been together.

‘I really hope they’re in Dulwich,’ he says, logging into the SDI’s database. ‘I’ve never enjoyed flying. I get air-sick.’

I grin at him. ‘I really don’t want to go to Germany either.’ I pick up the phone and ring Kyle and ask him to check if he can find out anything about the two Pfeiffers from
our own database. He promises to get right on it.

‘Who do you think they’re working for?’

I shrug as I stand up and stretch again. I feel achy and cold, sitting on the floor. Why I’ve been sitting on the floor for most of the afternoon I’m not sure, especially as
Dante’s couches are so comfortable.

‘I don’t know, we’ll have to figure it out.’ I feel my back unkink and turn to find Dante watching me from shadowed eyes. ‘What?’

‘Just thinking something.’

‘Is it bad thinking or good thinking?’

His smile is slow. ‘Well, that totally depends on your point of view of good or bad.’

‘Are you flirting?’

‘Maybe, just a bit.’

I laugh at his jokey evasive tone of voice. ‘Okay, well. Just know that, if you try something, I’ll be able to take you down.’

‘Huh. And that’s supposed to not be a challenge?’

My breath hitches when he stands up unexpectedly. He’s faster than he was before, I realize. My magic shield slams closed around me but I stand my ground, refusing to give way even if
I’m feeling a little scared. I know I can fight Dante if I have to, but I tend not to like beating up my friends. Also, I don’t know what his magic abilities are and how they’ll
manifest here in the Frontier. I’ve seen a Fae who was pretty average in the Otherwhere lift up a truck, and throw it at a friend when they got into an argument about turning up at a party in
the same outfit.

‘I’m kidding. Geez, woman, I just want to go and put the heating on in the kitchen. I don’t know about you, but I’m actually cold.’

‘I’m also hungry,’ I tell him, looking at my watch, pretending nonchalance. Breakfast seems a very long time ago. ‘What have you got to eat around here?’

‘Not sure. We can order something in.’ He moves past me and into the kitchen. He rummages in a drawer and finds take-away menus. ‘Choose something.’

While I flick through the leaflets he mutters something darkly about the boiler but seconds later it starts humming happily to itself.

‘I don’t really care what we eat, as long as we eat a lot of it. I am so hungry I can’t think any more.’

I glance to where he’s leaning against the oven with his arms crossed. He looks awkward now, I realize, in this place. Before this was where he lived and he liked it. Now he seems to be a
stranger here.

‘Indian?’ I say, holding up a handful of leaflets. ‘We’re right on the doorstep of Brick Lane. We can’t not have Indian food.’

‘As you wish,’ he says, waving his hand negligently. His wallet, lying next to the microwave, twitches then flies straight at me. I duck, letting out a yelp, and it slams into the
back of the couch with a
whump.

‘Shit!’ Dante’s by my side, checking me over for wounds before looking at his wallet. ‘Did I just do that?’

‘I’m fine, don’t worry, and yes, I think you just tried to knock me unconscious with your wallet.’

‘How? Can you explain that?’

I shrug. ‘That’s not really how my magic works. I can lay down magics, I can See weird things, I can sort of step sideways and see time move past, but I can’t animate objects
the way you just did.’ I prod his shoulder with a finger. ‘Try it again.’

‘Okay.’

For ages nothing happens but then I feel a shift in the air and the entire couch lifts three feet in the air, moves a foot sideways, knocking into the small table and sending it tumbling over,
before crashing back down again.

‘Uh.’ I look at him doubtfully. ‘Were you trying to do that?’

‘No. I was trying to move my wallet again.’

‘Oops.’

Once more the dream crept up on him. What alarmed him was that it wasn’t night and he wasn’t asleep. He sat in his study at the top of the tower, overlooking the
cascading waterfalls in the distance, a treatise on magic and how the Frontier and Otherwhere were linked open before him.

Kit ducked into the rubble-strewn room and her gaze met his. Her smile lit her face and she breathed his name.

‘I’ve been looking for you,’ she said, her tone light, but there were definite signs of worry on her face.

He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and drew her to him. She hesitated at first before resting against him, her arms curling around his neck as she hugged him tight.

‘I’m glad you found me,’ he said and it was the truth. How he missed the clean smell of her, her ever-changing moods reflected in her hazel eyes, how she fitted perfectly
against him.

‘Thorn, there’s danger here.’

‘I know.’

‘You must be careful.’

‘The danger is not aimed at me, but at you.’ It was the truth. He could sense the growing menace deep within the abandoned derelict palace. ‘You should leave. This is none of
your concern.’

‘It is.’ She made an effort to untangle herself from him and he felt the pang of loss the second she moved. ‘They have to be helped. I’m the only one who can help
them.’

‘Why does it have to be you?’

There’s the sound of something heavy moving nearby and Kit edged further away from him, her ever-present sword drawn smoothly and ready for attack.

‘Thorn?’

The voice did not belong in his dreams. He shifted, irritated that it dared intrude on this stolen moment.

‘What are you doing?’

He blinked slowly, watching Odalis’s features swim into view. ‘Memorizing,’ he said without missing a beat. ‘The treatise.’ His hand dropped onto the pages before
him. ‘I didn’t realize before how closely the two worlds were connected.’

Odalis gave him a flinty look but nodded. ‘The relationship is one of symbiosis. What happens in the Fae Otherwhere affects the human Frontier and vice versa. The witches from the Frontier
have a saying: as above, so below. I do not think they realize how apt it truly is.’

‘Have you come to ask me something?’ he asked, watching how her mouth tightened. She was not an unattractive woman but her stern demeanour and haughty manner made her an unappealing
tutor and unpleasant to be around. Not for the first time he wondered if his father deliberately sought out the most miserable person to tutor him in his new role. He knew his thoughts were
uncharitable, but thus far she’d not done more than push book upon countless book at him. Then question him for hours and make him practise scrying until headaches debilitated him.
Occasionally they would practise magic and he would be required to sense what kind of an attack she was about to launch at him. He got the feeling she was as unimpressed with him as he was with
her, but that she was doing this as her duty to Aelfric.

‘A messenger came today: there is to be a ball to celebrate the winter solstice. We have been invited.’

‘Us? You mean both of us?’

‘Correct. Your father has made it clear that your presence will be required. He has the dragon lords from Chin coming and the Empress of the Rus has agreed to travel all that
way.’

Thorn raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sure my father knows what he’s doing – inviting dignitaries from all over the Otherwhere so soon after his brother’s attempt to
destroy his kingdom.’

Odalis made an impatient gesture at his disapproving tone. ‘Don’t be stupid, boy. You know he wants to show you off. You’ve become a key part of his diplomatic relations with
the rulers of the Otherwhere. The Empress is even bringing her granddaughter with a view to you two becoming betrothed.’

Had Thorn not been sitting he would have staggered. As it was, his hands curled into the pages of the book in front of him and he slowly stood up.

‘I’m not sure I believe you.’

‘Believe what you will. You will hear proof of his plans at the ball, I’m sure.’

Without waiting to be dismissed, Thorn slammed the book shut, tucked it beneath his arm and left the study. He walked to his room, ignoring the surprise of the servant tidying his quarters, and
flung the book against the wall. The tray with the goblet and silver jug followed suit. Next he kicked the small table over. In the distance thunder rumbled and dark clouds scudded across the
sun.

‘Get my horse,’ he snarled at the startled servant, who watched him with pity rather than fear. ‘Now!’

The man fled the room as if the hounds were after him.

Within half an hour Thorn strode into the stables and accepted the bridle from the worried-looking stable boy.

‘Sir, there’s a storm brewing.’

‘I know.’ He swung up onto the horse’s back and clicked his tongue. The stallion surged beneath him and he was soon lost amid the swaying branches of the forest surrounding the
tower.

The drive to Dulwich takes a long time. It’s been raining for most of the day and there are snarl-ups along the route. Dante’s dressed warmly against the cold but
also against the iron and steel in the car and I have the dubious honour of driving us. I’ve put on the radio to kill the awkward silence that’s filled the car.

The way Dante’s holding himself, away from the car door and slightly rigid, reminds me of the way Thorn sat when we drove up to London and then Scotland just a few months ago. The
unexpected memory leaves a pang in my chest and I swallow against the upswell of emotion. With Thorn, even though we floundered for a bit, we had a clear mission to work towards. We needed to get
him home and help his family regain Alba’s throne. This involved preventing his uncle Eadric from successfully opening a gateway to another realm to bring about the return of the imprisoned
Elder Gods. Easy. (My ass.) But we did it. And then he left. And I stayed behind. And now I’ve got his long-lost (hidden) cousin working with me as a partner and I have so many questions.