Vowed (40 page)

‘Look, my family – the Blackharts – hunt monsters that aren’t human, and you obviously know there is something supernatural going on here. Dante and I have been asked to
help find these missing children. So please, just tell us what you know.’

There are murmurs but then Tia’s father speaks up. ‘What can you do? How can you help them? Don’t you think we’ve tried to stop this? And now you’re here, children
yourselves . . .’

I see so much pain and anger in him that I bite back my hasty retort. ‘I may be young but at least I’m prepared to help. So is Dante. So are my family and the organization Dante
works for. All we’re asking is for you to trust us, to tell us why your children are being singled out here.’

Their murmurs die down gradually and the women stare at Dante as if they’ve just seen their favourite pair of shoes go on sale right before their eyes.

‘Please, with your help, we can end this.’ He spreads his hands in a gesture of appeal and suddenly everyone is smiling at him – and I mean everyone. ‘We will do our
utmost and get your children back, but we can only do that if you help us.’ I feel a wave of persuasive energy flow from him. It rolls around the room and even the sullen man who’s been
staring daggers at me shifts his attention and watches Dante tenderly.

Flipping heck, the boy is good, I’ll admit that, even if it scares me a little. I edge away and let my flames die down – a wise precaution given my next move is to get my phone out
to record the conversation.

‘I have a picture here and I’d like to know if you recognize him.’ I pass the photo that Ulrich Pfeiffer gave us to the first person, who looks at it, nods in affirmation and
passes it to the others, who are murmuring among themselves.

I feel excitement and suppress a smile of relief. Maybe we can win this after all.

The clearing Thorn had been heading for was at the base of a small mountain range; beyond it lay his destination. The palace on the flattened hill ahead was more of a fortress
than a playground for courtiers, and between him and it lay a large town. Thorn knew from clandestine research that the entire palace, with its countless rooms and private gardens, lay abandoned
– along with the town at its base. It had been unoccupied for over two thousand years, and he doubted anyone had visited it for an age. An air of neglect lay heavily over the whole area, and
the forest he’d thundered through felt unnaturally still.

Even without using his newly heightened senses and magical ability, Thorn could sense that he was being watched. He resisted the urge to throw up a masking spell and instead dismounted from his
horse, starting the slow walk to the town itself.

It took him almost an hour to cross the clearing, and not once did he hear a bird or see another living thing. It was eerie and gave him too much time to think. Clouds lay low and heavy across
the trees and a cold breeze blew down from the mountains, bringing the scent of the first snowfall.

Thorn knew that storming out of the tower was an over-reaction, even childish, but Odalis’s news was shocking and unexpected. He knew in theory he’d be expected to marry a bride of
his family’s choosing, but the reality felt very different. And he hadn’t expected to meet her so soon – at the Midwinter Ball. He’d felt on edge for weeks, expecting
something from his father, and this was it. He knew he was merely a pawn in a bigger game, and it made him bitter and short-tempered. The nightmares and fears filling his dreams in recent weeks had
kept him strung out, always on the edge of an outburst. Odalis’s announcement was simply the final straw and he’d needed to get away.

The visions he fought so heavily during his lessons found their way into his sleep. He saw a war coming to the Otherwhere and at its centre sat the Blackhart family, besieged from all sides with
just a handful of supporters.

The vision twisted him inside, because he knew Kit was at the heart of the unrest. She was in a world of danger and, try as he might, he just could not make sense of what he saw. She lay
unconscious and bleeding on a stone altar, her hair longer than he remembered, streaming out in a ghost wind. She was dressed in unfamiliar armour that looked Fae made and her trusty sword lay
broken beside her. The wolf lay in the shadows, its fur thick with blood, and panting with foam at its mouth.

And then the vision burst into flames. From them, a woman emerged, stately and ringed in fire. She looked directly at him and brought her finger to her lips, bidding him be quiet. Then he woke
up screaming because he too was consumed in her fire.

It was these dreams that made him search the tower’s vast library, looking for answers. He scried, wading deeply into the power of the songlines and singing them awake. He opened doorways
to the past and future, always seeking answers to what his dreams meant. Odalis knew nothing of this; he made sure of that.

What he found pointed to the ruins of the ancient fortress before him. So he was damned if he was going back to the tower before he found out its impossible secrets.

‘So, I heard the shouting,’ Chem says as we walk out of the community centre ahead of everyone else. ‘Then it got really quiet. Did you hypnotize them or
something?’

‘Dante did. He made them all fall in love with him.’ I grin wickedly. ‘Right?’

Dante grumbles under his breath as he tugs his jacket back on. ‘It’s really hard concentrating when you know you don’t look like you.’

Chem looks confused but he holds up both hands. ‘Look, I don’t care what happened in there. My nan called. I need to get home. You guys okay? You on top of this?’

‘We are, yes,’ I assure him before he jogs off.

Dante heaves a sigh and his breath plumes in front of his face in the frosty air. ‘I feel exhausted,’ he says. ‘How do the Fae keep their glamour up in the human
world?’

‘I don’t know. But you’ve been doing a good job. Can you maybe just, I don’t know, tone all of it down a bit? You’re being super distracting.’

He twists towards me and his lips curve – oh so enticingly. I take a step back from him. ‘No, I’m not even joking, Dante. If you come near me I’m going to whack you in
the head with my iron stick.’

‘So violent,’ he says but he looks away, pressing fingers across the bridge of his nose. ‘Give me a few minutes to figure this out.’

I turn and watch the handful of people walk back to their homes, their steps slow. A few of the women look out for Dante in the darkness. One of the men, younger than the rest, stops and lights
a cigarette in order to stare at him for a minute or two, before clearly coming to some decision and walking off behind the rest.

Once Dante has himself under control (never a good thing when you want to lick your friend’s face), we’re heading to Milton’s to confront Torsten.

At my core I know I shouldn’t be surprised at the truth behind the children’s disappearances. A logical part of me understands that, although the Blackharts do their utmost to right
wrongs, some things slip us by. Especially when they’ve been carefully hidden under layers of deceit, outright lies and Fae machinations that are centuries old.

At least we’ve finally discovered the link between the missing children and the estate. The key is the land – or rather who the land belonged to. It all goes back to the Saxon lord
Brixi, plus his housecarls and their extensive holdings. They have somehow maintained their centuries-long grip on Brixi’s estates, and its inhabitants still owe them a tithe of their own
children. Not that we know why – yet. As for the link between the children and the music festival – we’re still looking on that one.

I believe Suola knew what she was doing when she decided to interfere here. There are depths to the case that I’m not sure I fully understand.

I shiver in the cold air and dig deeper into my coat, pulling it more tightly around me and shoot a look at where Dante’s pacing and muttering to himself.

The estate isn’t quiet, not by a long shot. Music and the sounds of an argument carry on the wind towards us. The music is dub-step with a heavy bass line and I hum it under my breath,
drumming my fingers inside my pockets. Then the tune changes to something darker and Thorn’s lullaby wraps itself around me. It takes a few bars for me to realize what I’m humming and I
stop short in fright, making it Dante’s turn to look at me.

‘You okay?’ he calls out softly.

‘No, can we go?’ I don’t wait for him to answer and instead just walk past him, exerting a great amount of will not to sway towards him. Right now I don’t want to appear
vulnerable. I need to be tough and in charge of my own mind. Without conscious thought, I tighten the wall of magic between us as I walk back down towards the car. I start it up and wait for Dante
to get in.

‘Are we ready?’ he asks, as he buckles himself in.

‘No, but neither is Torsten, I think.’

Vauxhall isn’t that far and we make it in a decent amount of time. I park a few blocks away and we walk slowly along the darkened street to the club’s main entrance. Rorke’s
solid presence before the club’s large vaulted doors reassures me that some things are still as they should be.

‘You here to make trouble, Blackhart?’ His voice is a deep rumble but there’s humour there. He stands a bit straighter when he sees my serious expression and notices the pommel
of my sword over my shoulder. He glances at Dante then back at me. ‘I’m half inclined not to let you in.’

‘You don’t have to,’ I say. ‘We just need to speak to Torsten. It’s business.’

There are about twenty people in the queue waiting for Rorke to notice them and let them into the club, but he’s paying them no attention at all. One of the girls in the queue, a pretty
blonde girl with incredible legs and huge chocolate-brown eyes leans out to ogle Dante. Her friend grabs her just in time to prevent her from leaning too far and falling on her butt. Dante turns to
look at her briefly before turning to look back to Rorke, who’s not moved to let us pass.

‘Is this Suola’s business?’ Rorke looks worried now. ‘The Beast’s been in every night since she came here to see you. He sits upstairs and just waits.’

‘Is he here tonight?’

‘Not yet. It’s too early. After midnight, usually.’

‘Do you know what he’s waiting for?’

Rorke shakes his head. ‘He orders a drink and that’s it. He hardly touches it. People come and go, leaving gifts for him to take to Suola and he barely acknowledges them. He’s
freaking everyone out. Especially Miron.’

‘Does he speak to anyone?’

Before Rorke can answer Dante’s question, someone from the queue calls out impatiently. ‘Hey, come on! It’s cold and we want to get in before dawn, mate. Can you chat to your
friends after you’ve let us in?’

The guy who spoke is severely under-dressed, even for Milton’s. He blanches as both Rorke and Dante turn to look at him with savage intent.

‘I will let you in as and when I like,’ Rorke says with a smile that holds far too many teeth to be comfortable viewing. ‘And right now? I don’t like. So stand there and
keep that girl from passing out. What’s wrong with her, anyway?’ He shakes his head. ‘Youth of today. No stamina.’

Dante mutters something I can’t hear; his attention is focused on the girl who’s being held up by her friends, and I become aware of his magic pressing up against me. It fizzes
against my own and I feed more energy into my shield, locking it down, but even so there’s a need to do bad things to my partner.

Dante gives me a haunted look before he leaves my side to stalk towards the girl. She looks up and her eyes go wide, her tongue flicking nervously across her lower lip, as if anticipating a
kiss. She whimpers as she tries to straighten up and her friend curses roundly as she’s pushed away by her. But the girl’s not the only one who finds Dante interesting. The guy who
spoke up, Mister Tightpants, reaches out a hand and trails it along Dante’s arm as he passes, staring after him with a look of longing on his face.

‘Is she okay?’ Dante asks the blonde’s friend, who seems stricken with numb-tongue. ‘What’s wrong with her?’

The blonde straightens so that she can look up at Dante. Her reaction is immediate – somehow reminiscent of a flower that had grown in darkness, then was exposed to sun for the first time.
The smile that curves across her full red lips is both dazzled and hungry. She shakes off her friend and presses herself up against Dante so that there’s no light visible between their
touching bodies. Her hand curls up around his neck, into his hair, and she stands on tiptoe to reach his lips with hers.

‘What the hell?’ Rorke asks me, turning to the display of wantonness on his doorstep. ‘Is he just kissing some random girl?’

‘Dante isn’t . . .’ I take a deep breath. ‘Dante is having a problem controlling this new gift of his,’ I finish lamely. ‘It’s making for interesting
times at the moment.’

‘Gift?’ Rorke’s grey eyes flash dangerously. ‘When you’ve finished talking to Torsten, this is a story I want to hear.’ He walks over to where Dante has the
girl pressed up against the wall, his head bent over hers. I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure he’s not kissing her. Instead it looks as if he’s talking to her and
she’s clinging to him like a drunken sailor would hang on to a last bit of flotsam before being swept into the sea.

Rorke grabs Dante by the collar and literally pulls him off the girl. The girl reaches blindly for him but her friend’s there and grabs hold of her instead. Rorke says something and his
tone is dark, utterly pissed off. He makes a gesture and one of the black taxis that’s always parked nearby drives up. The two girls climb into the back and Rorke speaks to the driver. I see
money change hands and the taxi speeds off into the night. Rorke, still holding on to Dante, walks him back towards me with his large hand now pressed between my partner’s shoulders.

Dante looks feverish and he’s shaking. His eyes are wild and he can’t seem to decide what to do with his hands. Static energy is coming off him to which Rorke seems completely
oblivious. The few people left in the queue now seem far more interested in watching what we’re doing than trying to get into the club.