Page 33

Chapter

Twenty-Three

I woke up early, luxuriating in the warmth of my bed. All five cats had clearly forgiven me for my earlier transgression in staying out all night and had snuggled around my body. She Who Loves Sunbeams had even stretched a protective paw across my cheek to guard against any escape attempt.

I had no plans to do any such thing. It was pitch dark outside and I reckoned I could snooze for a good few hours before I had to get up. This was more like the early retirement I’d anticipated; this was what I wanted.

I turned over and buried my face in my pillow.

Thump.

‘What the hell was that?’ I muttered and covered my ears.

Thump. Thump.

Damn it. Go away.

Thump. Thump. Thump. ‘Kit! Wake up! Open the door!’

I sat bolt upright, disturbing three of the sleeping cats. I apologised to them hastily. It sounded like Trilby, but I couldn’t imagine what they would be doing at my front door at that hour of the morning.

‘Kit! ’

Shit. It really was them. I cursed, scooted out of bed and grabbed a jumper before making my way blearily to the door.

I opened it and peered out. Trilby looked bright-eyed and bushy tailed.

Their clothes were uncreased, their hat was perfectly perched on their head and they looked wide awake – but they weren’t smiling.

‘What are you doing here?’ I asked. ‘It’s practically the middle of the night.’

‘It’s 4.30 in the morning, Kit, hardly the middle of the night. Besides, you need to put on some proper clothes and get moving. You’ve got work to do.’

I passed a hand in front of my face. ‘Trilby…’

They gazed at me grimly. ‘There’s an attack underway.’

Suddenly I was wide awake. ‘An attack? Where?’

‘On the MET building. Somebody has broken in, knocked the duty officer unconscious and gone straight for the cells.’

My stomach dropped. Instantly, I knew what – or rather whom – Trilby was alluding to. ‘Fetch Jackson? Is he still there? Has he escaped?’

Trilby shook their head. ‘I don’t know, but you should get there as fast as you can.’ They turned away and trudged back to the garden gate.

‘Wait! How did you know about the attack? Who told you?’

Trilby didn’t answer. I cursed then darted back inside to make myself presentable. It took me four minutes to yank on appropriate clothes, grab everything I might need and run out of my front door.

By the time I arrived at the MET building, magicked lights were illuminating its facade. There were people everywhere, and a cordon had already been set up to hold them back. I pushed my way through a group of curious vampires, then stared aghast at the scene.

The front door, which would normally have been firmly closed at that hour, was hanging off its hinges; scorch marks suggested that some sort of powerful magic spell had been used to blast it open.

Four paramedics were crouched around a fallen figure dressed in a MET uniform.

I felt the pulse of magic as they worked on her wounds and I swallowed hard.

The acrid stench of violent magic clung to the still air. The idea that somebody would storm this building was unprecedented; even though I could see it with my own eyes, it was difficult to believe what had happened.

A hand grabbed my arm from behind. As I spun, I instinctively reached for my would-be assailant. I jabbed them with my elbow, throwing as much force as I could into their solar plexus before I swung around.

Thane choked and doubled over, wheezing and gasping for air. ‘Goddamnit,’ I hissed. ‘Haven’t you learned by now not to creep up behind me?’

The vamps stared at me with their black eyes, their expressions blank, but at least the nearest ones stepped back to put a distance between us. ‘She’s stronger than she looks,’ one of them muttered to his companion.

‘Those self-defence classes at my local community centre are worth their weight in gold,’ I replied, tossing my head as I helped Thane straighten up. He wiped away involuntary tears and managed a weak smile. I didn’t return it. ‘Trilby?’ I asked.

Thane nodded. ‘About ten minutes ago.’ His voice was strained but I remained unrepentant. ‘They banged on my door to wake me up although Tiddles had already done that.’

At least it had saved me from waking him.

‘Jackson?’ he asked.

I shook my head. ‘No sign of him yet. ’

He rubbed his eyes again and gazed at the building. ‘There must have been an army of people involved to do this.’

Not necessarily: with the right tools and the element of surprise, a single person could be responsible.

‘A pinch of enchanted trevishate to blow off the doors, followed immediately with a black-market stun grenade.’ I sniffed.

‘Laced with valerian, if I’m not mistaken.

A child could do it – not to mention someone from the witches’ council. ’

I cursed silently. It had never occurred to me that anyone would be so bold as to mount a brazen attack like this, even with a potential king’s ransom of silphium at stake. The lengths to which greed drove people never failed to amaze me.

‘You think someone from the witches’ council is responsible?’ Thane asked.

‘Or a power-hungry druid.’ I glanced to the right where a baker’s dozen of pale-faced, black-hatted witches were standing. Three metres away was a cluster of tattooed druids. Both groups were glaring at each other. I examined each face in turn.

‘They look as shocked as we are, Kit,’ Thane murmured.

He had a point: their reactions appeared genuine. I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t expected this sort of brutal, decisive action. I watched them for another moment then made a decision and ducked beneath the cordon.

I marched towards the building but I didn’t get very far. A stony-faced MET officer appeared seemingly out of nowhere and blocked my path. ‘Where the fuck do you think you’re going?’ he growled.

‘Has he escaped?’ I demanded. ‘Has Fetch Jackson gone?’

Something odd flickered in his eyes, but before he could speak there was a sharp cry from the crowd and a figure burst forward. Harriet. Oh no.

‘Somebody called me and said there was a commotion here. Where is he? What has that bastard done?’ She squared up to the MET officer. ‘Tell me! Where is the fuck who killed my brother?’

There was a flicker of movement beyond the shattered door.

I caught a glimpse of a shaken Captain Montgomery, then four paramedics appeared carrying a stretcher.

On it lay Fetch Daniel Jackson. My jaw dropped.

Suddenly I realised this hadn’t been an escape attempt at all: it had been an assassination.

‘Out of the way!’ Montgomery yelled at the crowd. ‘This man needs to get to a hospital!’

Bloody hell. I stepped back and grabbed hold of Harriet to encourage her to do the same.

The paramedics moved past us. Jackson’s face looked pale and waxy; though his eyes were open, there was a glazed edge to his irises.

As I stared at him, I realised the grim truth: Daniel Jackson was dying.

It was too late for any hospital or magicked medical intervention. Nothing could help him now.

Jackson raised a hand and let out a guttering wheeze, then his body seemed to collapse in on itself. The paramedics muttered to each other with the hurried calm of experienced emergency workers and lowered the stretcher to the ground. ‘Daniel,’ one of them said. ‘Daniel, stay with us.’

The Fetch croaked. When he turned his head, his dying gaze landed on Harriet and his lips began to move. ‘I didn’t do it,’ he whispered. ‘I didn’t kill Knox. I’m sorry. It was…’ His voice faltered and caught in his throat as the last of the light faded from his eyes.

The paramedics started CPR immediately but I stepped back, dull with the knowledge that it was already too late.

‘Harriet, come with me,’ I murmured. ‘We need to give them space.’ I reached for her again but she staggered away from my grasp, spun back and pushed through the crowds.

Unable to do anything for Fetch Jackson, I followed her.

She made it to the other side of the street before she stopped and braced one arm against the wall of a small witchery store, gulping in ragged breaths. This time I didn’t try to touch her, I simply waited until she raised her tear-filled eyes to mine.

‘He wasn’t lying,’ she whispered. ‘He was telling the truth. That man did not kill my brother.’

‘It was a deathbed confession,’ I told Thane as we walked away from Harriet’s house.

She was safely inside with her next-door neighbour making sure she was alright.

I couldn’t help by staying with her. I couldn’t do anything to salve her complex emotions – but that didn’t mean I couldn’t help in other ways.

‘Deathbed confession or not, it doesn’t mean what he said is true,’ Thane retorted.

I still couldn’t tell him that Harriet was a Truth Seeker so I prevaricated wildly.

‘I’ve heard a lot of last words, Thane. Few people lie when they face death.

’ That wasn’t even remotely true. Lots of people lied when they are about to die.

Sometimes they even lied to themselves. I doubled down regardless.

‘I know what I’m talking about. Daniel Jackson isn’t the killer we’re looking for. ’

He sent me a sidelong look. His scepticism wasn’t a surprise. He knew me too well – and I wasn’t deft at twisting the truth. ‘It was his glove you found soaked in Knox’s blood.’

‘I’m not saying I understand how he’s not the killer,’ I fumbled, ‘I’m saying I believe he’s not.’

‘Or maybe you want to believe there’s someone else behind this. You’re so caught up in this investigation that you don’t want it to be over.’

‘But it’s not over,’ I pointed out. ‘Somebody killed Daniel Jackson. Somebody blasted off the front doors of the MET, invaded the building and killed him.’

‘That was probably the witches’ council tidying up their own mess. It’s obvious they believe he’s a killer, no matter what they’ve said to the contrary, and they don’t need the bad publicity Jackson would have brought to their door.’

‘If that was the case, they'd have waited until they had him in custody, not attacked the damned MET.’ I sighed and tried again. ‘Look, if we assume that the underlying motive is to get hold of this silphium stuff, Fetch Jackson wouldn’t have needed to tie up Knox and torture him to find out where it is. He used a truth spell on me at the mortuary. Twice. He could have used the same magic on Knox.’

Thane wasn’t giving in. Bloody hell. ‘Knox Thunderstick was a druid, and a pretty good one if his green-fingered skills were anything to go by. He might have been strong enough to resist such a spell. Besides, a truth spell only forces you to speak the truth – it doesn’t force you to speak.’

Perhaps not, but Knox had been badly beaten before he died. He would have been prepared to say anything. I came to a halt and Thane stopped next to me. I glanced at him. ‘You said you trusted me.’

‘I do.’

‘Fetch Daniel Jackson didn’t kill Knox Thunderstick. I can’t tell you how I know, I just know. I need you to believe me so we can move on.’

His green eyes looked into mine. ‘Okay, Kit.’ He put his hands in his pockets and started walking again.

Wait. That was it? I stared after him then shook myself and caught up. ‘You don’t want to discuss it anymore?’

‘You’ve asked me to trust you. I trust you. Jackson didn’t kill Knox.’

I didn’t know what to say. Hell, I didn’t know what to think .

‘Yeah, it’s weird for me too,’ Thane said gently and grinned. ‘Come on. We need to get back to Adrienne’s place.’ His smile disappeared. ‘Because one thing is for certain – her life is still in danger and we’re not finished playing heroes yet.’

Unfortunately, I was no longer feeling heroic in the slightest. But I was even more determined to get to the bottom of all this shit.