Sorry about last texts, can explain and won’t give Hugh the letter. Also, have had two visits from Bastien (Dreamscape and astral) saying I had to save him from the Emperor or I’d lose the chance of finding the fae’s fertility. He also said to give you this message verbatim: ‘I have honoured the agreement between us. I will not harm the bean sidhe, but due to your incessant vacillating, I have made the choice for you.’ So V Important we talk. Meet me at midnight, please. And remember, whatever’s going on with the Emperor and Bastien, I can help.
I went to hit send, then stopped and added:
Is Bastien your son?
Before I could change my mind, I sent the text, then shoved the phone back in my pocket and opened another water, thinking astral projection must come in handy for a vamp stuck in his daytime sleep.
Hugh patted my shoulder gently. ‘That’s your sixth, or maybe seventh bottle of water, Genny. You all right?’
I glanced up at his cloud-grey eyes, squinting against the too bright sun, as I dug my toes into the straw-like grass. ‘Not sure. I feel like I haven’t had a drink for weeks. And I don’t mean alcohol . . . ’ Damn. That was it. I pulled a face at Hugh. ‘I took a Hot.D and a Reviver earlier. It’s just the hangover catching up.’ I knocked back the last of the water, waved the empty bottle at him with a rueful smile. ‘Don’t s’pose you’ve got another?’
‘Looks more than that, Genny.’ Worried fissures lined his ruddy face. ‘Hot.Ds usually have a hydrating effect. Look at your hands. They look like an old person’s.’
He was right. The skin was all dry and wrinkled. Like I needed intensive hand cream treatment, or something. ‘Huh. Maybe it’s a weird side-effect of the Reviver.’ I upended the bottle again, the plastic creaking as I sucked all the air out of it.
Hugh stood, his large bulk blocking out the sun.
‘Shade,’ I murmured. ‘Nice.’
He cupped my elbow, carefully helping me up. ‘Come on, Genny. I’ll get Lamber to take you to HOPE. Get the docs there to check you out for any problems from that spell mix the cambion had.’
‘Can’t go.’ I yanked out of his hold as desperation dropped me to my knees and thrust my hands into the dusty grass. My flaking skin shimmered gold as the brittle stalks crackled against my fingers. But it wasn’t enough. I collapsed full-length, rubbing my face into the earth. Still not close enough. My fingers clawed at my shirt, popping the buttons. I needed more skin—
Water poured down on me.
I flopped onto my back like a starfish and opened my mouth wide, letting it rain over me. Gods it felt good, ice cold, wet and salty. Ugh. I jerked up, spluttering as I got a mouthful of saline solution. I swiped my hair and the stinging water from my eyes, and scowled at the person crouching next to me. Finn.
His hair looked as if it had grown since yesterday, his bracken-coloured horns almost hidden in the dark blond waves. He was wearing dark suit trousers and a smart, short-sleeved shirt, cream with a thin ivy-green stripe, the collar open. It was his usual summer business style. And he looked good enough in his handsome human Glamour that I wanted to tear the clothes off him. The thought of the two of us rolling around on the dusty earth, naked, clenched things low inside me. I curled my hands into the grass and stifled that thought. Maybe the cambion’s cauldron mix was affecting me. Though Finn’s salt-drenching seemed to have solved my ‘hot and thirsty’ problem. And seemed to have cleared my head. Not that I was feeling overly appreciative.
‘Thanks,’ I muttered, glaring at the blue fire extinguisher he had his hand on.
He grinned cheerfully. ‘You’re welcome, Gen.’
I sniffed. ‘I wasn’t being grateful.’
‘I didn’t think you were.’ His grin widened. ‘Looks like I’ll have to make do with the view instead.’ Wickedness lit his moss-green eyes as they flicked down then back up to my face.
I looked down. Sighed. If there was a wet T-shirt contest to be found, my boobs would be taking point and leading the way. As there wasn’t, they’d just give anyone too close an embarrassing poke. Great. Still, at least I had boobs, and not the mosquito bites that the Magic Mirror spell kept inflicting on me. I pulled the soaked shirt away from my chilled skin, flapping it gently; in this heat it and my bra should dry in no time. On the plus side, the soaking had almost washed away the bloodstain from Dessa’s bite. Maybe the day was looking up.
‘Gen?’
I looked back at Finn; his grin was gone.
And maybe it wasn’t. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘The Forum Miribilis. It’s not good.’
Chapter Forty-Seven
‘It’s an auction site,’ Finn said to me and Hugh. ‘The online auction runs all the time, but once every ten years they hold a real-time “Special Auction” in conjunction with the Carnival Fantastique on the Summer Solstice, which is tomorrow night. That auction has a listing of rare items for people to bid on. Plus there’s another section, a bit like “Want it Now” on eBay. People list hard-to-find items that they want to buy, either for cash or by offering something in exchange, then the Forum’s procurers step in to source the lots. If they do, the site’s updated ready for the real-time auction.’ He flicked his fingers and called an electronic tablet. ‘Tavish downloaded screenshots from the website.’
I peered over Hugh’s shoulder as he read.
Forum Mirabilis
Where anything can be ordered, bought or bartered: contraband spells, banned substances, exotic slaves, rare epicurean delicacies, magical beings or even your heart’s desire, if you are prepared to pay the price.
Finn brought up another screen and, with a grim look at Hugh, said, ‘We think this might be related to the kidnap victims at the zoo.’
The screen showed an entry from ‘RiverCat1’: Wanted: Female ailuranthrope. Panthera tigris – any subspecies preferred, though would accept any female ailuranthrope of any big cat species. Must be pure bred, not bitten, and of breeding age.
There was a tick in the column headed: Sourced.
‘Weretigers are obviously not as extinct as everyone thinks,’ I muttered.
There was a note added to the ‘Sourced’ column: ‘Subspecies Panthera tigris tigris (Bengal tiger). Female comes with one pure-bred cub, also Panthera tigris tigris (Bengal tiger) – male; aged six. Lots can be offered separately or together.’
They were going to auction off the ambassador’s wife and her kid. I hugged myself, chilled despite the summer heat. ‘That’s sick.’
Hugh rumbled agreement. ‘However, it does explain the Bangladeshi ambassador’s insistence on his diplomatic immunity.’
‘Damn. He’s worried about people finding out, isn’t he?’ I said. ‘Though really you’d think that would be the last thing on his mind.’
‘The longer a secret is locked in fear, the more impossible it becomes to release it, even when a more immediate danger threatens.’ A puff of worried dust escaped Hugh’s headridge. ‘But now we know the motive behind the kidnap, it should be easier for us to help the ambassador.’
‘It doesn’t explain why they took the zoo employee too.’
‘No doubt we’ll find out,’ Hugh said, ‘when we find him. Which is more important right now.’
‘This should help.’ Finn handed the tablet to Hugh. ‘There’s a lot more info about the Forum in it. It’s been around since Roman times in various guises, but now all the pre-organisation, leading up to the actual auction date, is done online. It also talks about the gold coins the Emperor’s werewolves throw around.’