Chapter Two

 

I stood at the back, leaning against the wall with my arms folded while the others yelled.

‘You know how long we took in planning that operation? Goddamnit, Taylor!’

‘How could you have gotten the intelligence so wrong?’

‘I could have died climbing up that building and all for nothing!’

Taylor glanced at me. ‘Wouldn’t you like to join in as well?’

I shrugged. ‘We went for the Lia Saifir and it wasn’t there. End of.’

His mouth twisted. ‘Everything I had led me to believe it was there. My contact said…’

‘Well, your contact was bloody wrong, wasn’t he?’ Speck exploded.

‘This isn’t over,’ Taylor said calmly. ‘We’ll still get it. You’ll still get your payday.’

Lexie squared up to him. There was something very amusing about the tiny pixie with her fists at the ready while Taylor’s large, hulking shape gazed implacably down at her. ‘You’re damn right we will. I still want my money. It’s not our fault the jewel wasn’t there.’

Taylor scratched his temple. ‘It wasn’t mine either.’

‘But it was your plan! Your orders!’

He sighed. ‘Okay, I admit, I may have been slightly hasty and didn’t double check everything. But I’m in rather a tight spot and time was of the essence.’

I had a sudden sinking sensation. There was something about the tone of his voice. This was familiar territory as far as Taylor was concerned.

‘How much are you in for?’ I asked quietly, fixing my gaze on him.

The other three swung their heads in my direction then back towards Taylor. Brochan frowned. ‘What does she mean?’

Taylor waved his fingers in the air in an attempt to be dismissive. It didn’t work. ‘A small matter. I might have borrowed some money and had a punt on the horses.’

Lexie’s nose wrinkled. ‘Gambling?’

‘Just the horses?’ I asked. I would have crossed my fingers if I’d thought it would help.

Taylor wouldn’t meet my eyes. It was even worse than I thought, then. ‘Well, I went to the casino once or twice.’

I took a deep breath. ‘How much?’

‘A hundred grand. Give or take.’

I mulled it over, slightly taken aback. It was peanuts as far as Taylor’s usual indiscretions were concerned. ‘Less than the cost of a state-of-the-art bank vault door,’ I commented. ‘It’s bad but it’s not horrific. You’ve been in worse states.’

‘Are you saying,’ Brochan growled, ‘that we’re not going to get paid because you’ve been betting on Princess Pony to win the bloody Grand National?’

‘Actually, I lost most of it on Appaloosa at Ascot.’ Taylor pursed his lips. ‘But it was very good odds and I had an amazing tip.’

Speck threw up his hands. ‘Unbelievable. Absolutely frigging unbelievable. Did you travel down to England too? Because the cost of avoiding the Veil and the Lowlands…’

‘There’s a fabulous new invention, Speck. It’s called the internet. I can place bets without leaving the comfort of my own home.’

Speck flipped up his middle finger and turned away in disgust.

I was still focused on Taylor, not taking my eyes away from him. Something about this didn’t fit. ‘So pay those three then pay the loan back. Arrange for instalments or whatever with your usual broker. I can wait until you’re back on your feet.’

He took in a deep breath. ‘Under normal circumstances, of course that’s what I would do.’

Lexie stared at him. ‘Normal circumstances? How often does this happen? We’ve worked for you for more than five years.’ She turned to me. ‘Why didn’t you tell us this was a problem?’

Because until now it hadn’t been any of her damned business. I didn’t take my eyes off my old mentor as I framed my answer. ‘Because it never really has been before,’ I said, keeping my tone level and calm. ‘There have been a few times when things got a bit hairy but we always sorted it before we reached total disaster. What’s different this time? What’s happened, Taylor?’

He shifted his weight, a shadow crossing his face. ‘Someone else has bought the loan.’

I cocked my head. ‘People can do that?’

‘Yeah,’ he muttered.

‘Why would someone bother?’

His mouth flattened into a grim line. ‘To make a quick buck.’

I drew in a breath. ‘So talk to whoever bought it. Do a deal with them.’

‘I tried,’ he said helplessly. ‘They won’t talk to me. They’re demanding immediate repayment.’

Begging the question of why. I tightened my jaw. ‘Stall them.’

‘I did. I don’t think they’re prepared to wait any longer. I had a buyer lined up for the Lia Saifire and I thought that would solve all our problems but…’

‘All our problems?’ Lexie asked, incredulous. ‘Our problems?’

Taylor gazed helplessly at me. I shook my head. Lexie did have a point. I sighed and raised my eyes heavenward. ‘Tell me who they are and I’ll talk to them.’ I’d done it before. I could do it again.

Taylor’s response was heavy. ‘I don’t know who they are. We only communicate through a courier.’

My eyebrows flew up. I’d not heard of that one before. ‘That’s rather old-fashioned, isn’t it?’

‘I figured they didn’t want to leave a digital footprint. You should see the delivery guy though. He’s a brute. At least seven foot tall and almost the same distance wide again. He has a massive scar from his eyebrow to his mouth. No visible Clan markings.’ Taylor shivered. ‘He’s dangerous. And he’s just the errand boy.’ He flicked me a look. ‘Wild Man, of course.’

Of course. I passed a hand over my eyes. I’d bailed out Taylor many times in the past so my own savings weren’t as substantial as they should have been, given my career. They’d be enough to tide him over, though. ‘I have about a hundred and twenty thousand. That’ll cover your loan and leave some left over to give to Speck, Brochan and Lexie.’ I glanced at them all. ‘If you can wait for the rest, I’d appreciate it.’

Brochan shook his head. ‘Nuhuh. No way are you paying for us. I’ve got money. I can wait.’

Speck’s hand shot up in the air as if he were still a pupil at school. ‘I can wait too. It’s not like I ever really spend much money anyway.’

They both looked at Lexie. She pouted, her expression stubborn, but it took her less than five seconds to crack. ‘Fine! I’ll wait. Jeez.’

The relief on Taylor’s face was palpable. ‘I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’

I nodded. ‘I know you will.’ I meant it too. He always put things right ‒ sooner or later.

He beamed at us. ‘I think I have a new lead on the Lia Saifire. What we need is…’

‘Whoa.’ I put up my palms. ‘This was my last job. I’m out, remember?’

Taylor winced. ‘But you didn’t get the gem.’

I was sympathetic but adamant. ‘Not my fault. I’ll help you out with the money but I’m done. I’m due in Oban in five days’ time. I can’t start planning a new heist.’

‘Tegs, I need you.’

I met his eyes. ‘I’m sorry but Lexie, Speck and Brochan are capable enough and you have others you can contact if you need a fourth. I made my decision and I’m not backing down.’

He gave a pleading look that stabbed at my heart but, when it was clear he could look at me like that all day long and I still wasn’t going to break, he nodded imperceptibly and sighed. ‘I understand.’

The others remained silent, unwilling to get involved in what was essentially a family matter. I pushed myself off the wall and walked over to them giving Taylor a hug first. ‘I’ll send the money over this evening,’ I told him. ‘But I need to get home, get some sleep and start packing.’

‘Okay.’ He hung his head but didn’t quite let go of me.

I forced a smile at the others. ‘We’re still on for drinks before I leave though, right? At the usual place? You might need to buy those drinks now, of course but…’

‘We’ll be there!’ Lexie cried. ‘Of course we will!’

The pixie rushed towards me, ignoring the fact that Taylor’s arm was still round my shoulders. Speck rushed in too and then Brochan. All of a sudden all five of us were embracing in a warm, tight, group hug.

‘Guys,’ I squeaked. ‘I can’t breathe.’

They broke apart. ‘I’m going to miss you kiddo,’ Brochan said gruffly.

I smiled tremulously. ‘Drinks first, remember? I’m not leaving just yet.’

‘It’s still the end of an era though,’ Lexie sighed, her chin wobbling.

I took a step backwards. Despite – or perhaps because of ‒ our failure at the bank and the drama of Taylor’s admission, this was all getting a bit too much. I had to leave before I collapsed in floods of tears. I wasn’t usually ashamed to cry but I was afraid that if I started I’d never stop. ‘Saturday night?’ I managed to get out.

They all nodded. Then, very quickly and before my first tear escaped, I made my escape.

*

Dawn was just breaking. I wound my way through the familiar Clan-less streets while the sky broke apart into streaks of pink and purple, promising a perfect day. It was a long walk along the banks of the River Don but it helped me to get my head together. It was also a chance to take in the familiar landmarks and make my own silent goodbyes.

Crossing the invisible boundary into Old Aberdeen, I passed the High Kirk of St. Machar, pausing for a moment in front of its grubby, sandstone façade. In all the time I’d lived here, I’d never been inside. The place still gave me a shiver though. Along with numerous bones belonging to ancient bishops from the Clans, the left quarter of William Wallace’s body was buried deep inside. His brutal execution signalled the very last time that a person of Clan-less birth was ever allowed a position of leadership.

Things might have improved over time, if it hadn’t been for the Fissure. The Sidhe took full advantage of that terrible war with the Fomori demons ‒ and the ensuing Veil, which smothered the borders of Lowlands from the Firth of Clyde right down to England itself. Now they ruled without challenge. Either you played along and gave allegiance to one of the remaining twenty-four Sidhe Clans or you were out in the cold with the Clan-less and grubbing about to make a living. But then, Scotland was never known for its warmth.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and continued walking. A group of boisterous Bauchan fell out of a nearby pub, laughing uproariously to themselves. I gave them wide berth, resisting the temptation to follow them home. They looked like roughnecks, enjoying the fruits of several weeks’ labour out on the North Sea. They’d be loaded – and far too drunk to notice a tail. They were Clan-less though. I had some morals.

I wandered across the Brig O’Balgownie, raising a hand in greeting to Rab the Troll, who pulled himself up onto the stone parapet. ‘How’s business?’ I asked.

His grey face twisted. ‘Bollocks. Haven’t seen a Sidhe in weeks. Other than your fine self, of course.’

I lifted an apologetic shoulder. ‘I don’t count.’

‘When times are desperate…’

I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘Don’t get cute.’

‘Yeah, yeah. You see any of your kinsfolk, send them my way.’

As if. I just smiled.

By the time I got back to my flat, the pretty dawn sky had given way to a crisp blue morning. It was a shame I’d spend most of it in bed, catching up on the sleep I missed thanks to last night’s activities. Usually I loved early mornings. I had no idea whether it was a Sidhe thing or just a me thing, but the break of day was the best time to be up and about as far as I was concerned.

I unlocked my door, dropping my equipment as soon as I was inside and peeling off my black jumpsuit as I walked to the bathroom. At least at this time of the morning the water would be hot. My one indulgence when I moved in was to get a power shower installed with all manner of angled jets and sprays. It was well worth it. It didn’t matter how much money I paid, though – this was still Clan-less territory and I lived in an old building. It was undeniably beautiful, with a solid granite structure outside and cornices and stained glass inside. Perfect plumbing, however, was a luxury reserved for others.

I turned on the shower and got in, yelping as I half scalded my skin. Still, it was so good to get clean. I scrubbed away all the traces of grime and oil from my climb up the building and my ascent down the lift shaft – not to mention the clinging dust from the drill.

It was a crying shame that I couldn’t wipe away my guilt at the same time. I felt guilty for leaving Taylor in the lurch when things looked so dire for him, and guilty for enabling his gambling habit by paying off his debts. I dreaded to think what I would have done if he hadn’t helped me out all those years before. I wasn’t naïve enough to think that he’d not used me but he’d never once judged me for who or what I was, and he’d always been there when I’d needed him. Maybe Saturday would be a good time to mention Gamblers’ Anonymous again.

It was a good twenty minutes before I stepped out of the shower, my skin pink from the heat. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My white hair hung down past my shoulders, an unfashionable length for a Sidhe. My violet eyes blinked back out, with just the faintest trace of shadows underneath them. I looked even paler than normal. It didn’t matter how many hours I spent in the sun, there was never a tan or a blush of sunburnt glow to my cheeks. I never even got any freckles. Other people often commented on my skin, saying that they wished for the same kind of flawless complexion. I just thought it was boring. It might seem strange to desire a bout of acne but I actually did. If nothing else, it would make me appear less Sidhe – although with my eyes and hair, I was probably not going to pass myself off as anything else any time soon.

Giving up on my appearance, I towelled myself off and wandered through to my bedroom, pulling on a comfy pair of worn pyjamas before lying down on my bed and closing my eyes. I was dog tired and should, by rights, have fallen asleep within seconds.

My brain, unfortunately, had other plans. No matter how hard I tried to turn off my thoughts, my worry about Taylor wouldn’t let me rest. I ran through scenario after scenario. There had to be a way to help him out so that this kind of situation never arose again. I gnawed over the problem for three-quarters of an hour when, still wide awake, I got up again. Maybe some hot cocoa would work. Unfortunately I’d forgotten about my discarded jumpsuit and, while rubbing my eyes, I didn’t see it. My foot caught up in one of the sleeves and I went flying, sprawling on the floor in an ungainly heap.

‘Bollocks,’ I swore, picking myself back up again. I could scale buildings, abseil down mountains, perform feats of extraordinary acrobatic skill – but when it came to walking along a small corridor, I failed. My only saving grace was that I lived alone so no-one else had witnessed my clumsy collapse.

I turned round and eyed the offending clothing then scooped it up, heading towards the kitchen and the noisy old washing machine. It had a nasty habit of juddering its way across the floor in a thunderous motion which sounded more like a volcanic eruption than a mere spin cycle. I’d been meaning to replace it for years but it was low on my list of priorities. Now I was leaving it didn’t seem to matter although it was hardly likely to induce sleep. But right now it didn’t appear that the land of nod was anywhere on the horizon. The least I could do was get the last of my chores out of the way. It would make packing easier.

I patted down the pockets and pulled out a few errant sweet wrappers, a plastic Hello Kitty pinky ring that I’d completely forgotten I owned and which made me smile, and the letter opener I’d taken from the office. I threw the jumpsuit, along with my last remaining dirty items of clothing, and turned the machine on, then stared at the small knife. The handle was rather remarkable. My finger traced along its ornate carvings. Here in the light of day, it seemed much less elegant and graceful than it had in the dim office. There was something about it that drew me to it. Goodness knows why. It wasn’t even pink.

‘Like a moth to a ruddy flame,’ I muttered, pulling the knife out from its sheath.

The blade was stained. Clearly its previous owner hadn’t cared for it very much. The heady and unpleasant perfume from the letters it had been used to open still clung to the metal. Grabbing a nearby dishtowel, I gently rubbed along its length, wiping away the grime and, hopefully, the smell.

The washing machine began to kick into high gear, starting its shuffle across the marbled floor. That’s probably why I didn’t notice the strange buzzing sound to begin with. It was the odd scent of cinnamon which caught my attention first.

Wondering if it was a base note from the perfume, or perhaps remnants of a long-forgotten cleaning agent, I sniffed the blade again. As I did so, a blinding flash of light seared my eyeballs. What the hell was that? Crying out, I dropped the knife and covered my face with my arm.

‘I can still see you, you know. It doesn’t work for ostriches and it doesn’t work for you.’

I froze. The booming voice sounded as if it had come from right in front of me. Baffled, and still squinting, I lowered my arm and stared. The knife lay on its side where it had clattered to the floor and the washing machine continued to rumble ‒ but there was definitely no one else in the room. I was going mad. Or dreaming.

I turned slowly, wary that someone might be behind me. There was nothing more than the battered ironing board propped up against the far wall and the kitchen table covered with old bills and bits of paper that I’d left out so I could file them away in carefully labelled folders, ready for transportation.

‘Honestly, for a faerie, you’re pretty stupid.’

Okay: I definitely hadn’t imagined that. ‘Hello?’ I asked cautiously, wondering whether it could be a ghost.

‘Great Scott!’ The voice said, utterly exasperated. ‘I’m down here!’

Rubbing my eyes again, I stared at the floor, feeling like an idiot. ‘Where?’

‘Here!’

A flicker of movement caught my eye and I saw him, crouching down next to the discarded letter opener. A tiny man wearing what appeared to be a tuxedo. He wasn’t any larger than my thumb. I did what any girl would do in such a situation. I gaped.

‘I knew a goldfish who did that once,’ the little man commented.

‘Who are you?’

A grin spread across his face. I realised that he was the most perfectly apple-cheeked being outside of the toddler three doors down that I’d ever seen in my life.

‘I’m Bob!’ he answered cheerfully. ‘Who are you?’

‘Uh,’ I licked my lips, still not sure if any of this was real, ‘Integrity.’

‘Uh Integrity? That’s a strange name. I’m guessing it’s not your true one.’

Something inside me closed off. ‘You mean because I’m a Sidhe,’ I said flatly. ‘Well, we’re not all the same. I don’t have a true name.’

‘Every Sidhe has a true name. And a magical Gift to go along with it.’

‘No.’ I put my hands on my hips. ‘They don’t.’

Bob put a hand on his hip too, obviously mimicking me. Then he flounced. I definitely did not look like I was doing that. Whoever this strange intruder was, he was making fun of me. That was okay. I liked daft jokes ‒ but I still dropped my hands.

‘Ooooooh,’ Bob said. ‘Touchy.’

Folding my arms, I glared down at him. ‘What the hell are you and how did you get into my flat?’

‘Well, duh! Isn’t it obvious?’

A prickle of annoyance ran down my spine. ‘If it was obvious, I would hardly be asking you, would I?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s true that you don’t seem to be the smartest owner I’ve ever had but, hey, it’s not like I had much of a choice.’

My eyes narrowed. That was an interesting – and incredibly distasteful – choice of words. ‘Owner?’

‘Of course!’ He pointed to the letter opener. ‘I am Bob. The Genie of the Sword.’

I looked from the fallen blade to him and back again. ‘You mean letter opener.’

‘No, no, no, no,’ he declared. ‘This is a sword.’

‘It’s really not.’

He flicked a disdainful glance at it. ‘Alright,’ he conceded, ‘it’s not a sword. But it is a very fine example of a dagger.’

‘It’s a letter opener.’

‘No, it’s a…’

I held up my palm to forestall him. ‘Let’s agree to disagree, shall we? Besides, I thought genies lived in lamps. How do you live in a letter opener?’

‘Dagger. And there was one genie who lived in one lamp a very long time ago who gets all the sodding credit and is in all the sodding stories. Most of us aren’t that lucky.’

‘You live in the metal?’ I asked doubtfully.

‘Of course!’ He sprang back to the blade, grinning. ‘Watch.’

There was another painful flash of light. I swore again, wincing because my eyeballs felt like they were on fire. When I recovered enough to see properly again, I picked the knife up gingerly between my finger and thumb. Sure enough, reflected there in the flat surface, was Bob’s smiling face. He gave me a two-dimensional wave. Then the air filled with a hum once more. At least this time I was smart enough to cover my eyes.

‘So,’ Bob said cheerfully, ‘what would you like?’

I frowned. ‘Excuse me?’

‘What wishes would you like? You get three, you know.’

No way was I going to fall for that trick. Anyone with a scrap of intelligence knew to steer clear of anyone offering wishes. ‘I’m good,’ I told him with a definite edge to my voice.

‘I don’t care whether you’re good or bad. What do you wish for first?’

‘Nothing. I don’t need anything.’

‘Hah!’ he scoffed. ‘Everyone needs something. Go on. You can tell Bob everything. I can make it happen.’

‘No thank you,’ I said primly.

He gazed at me, disappointed. ‘Why ever not?’

‘I know how these things work,’ I told him. ‘I ask for money and the next thing I know I’m receiving compensation for having my leg chopped off in a freak accident. I’ve read the stories. Everyone’s read the stories.’

He pouted. ‘You’re no fun.’

That stung. ‘You know what the psychiatrist said to the genie, right?’

Bob looked at me suspiciously. ‘What?’

‘That his feelings were all bottled up.’

He deadpanned me. ‘I don’t get it.’

I thought about explaining and then decided against it. Life was too short. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘jump back into the let— I mean the dagger, and I’ll take you back to where I found you. You can give the banker his wishes instead.’

‘Whoa! Hold your horses, Uh Integrity! I don’t want to go back there!’

I waggled my eyebrows. ‘Well, you’re certainly not staying here.’

‘He’s never once cleaned the blade. I’ve been trapped inside that thing for years! I can’t go back to that.’ Bob got down on his knees and clasped his fingers together, holding them up beseechingly in my direction. ‘Don’t make me!’

‘So what do you suggest?’ I said. ‘I’m certainly not going to pass you along to someone else so they can get burned by wishing for stupid stuff they don’t need.’

Bob gazed at me with an air of unmistakable desperation. ‘I take back what I said before. You’re obviously very smart for a Sidhe. Let me stick around. Even if you don’t use any of the wishes, I’m sure I can still help you.’

‘First of all,’ I said, ticking off my fingers, ‘I don’t need any help. And second of all, I’m not really a Sidhe.’

His brow furrowed. ‘Of course you are.’

‘I’ve renounced my heritage.’

Bob threw back his head and laughed. ‘It doesn’t work like that, you stupid…’ His voice faltered mid-sentence. ‘Oops. I didn’t mean that.’

The washing machine suddenly groaned as it switched gears. Shaking dramatically, it began its inexorable path across the kitchen floor. Bob, alarmed, jumped about a foot in the air. ‘A monster!’ he yelled. ‘Don’t worry, Uh Integrity! I’ll save you!’

Good grief. How long had he been stuck in that letter opener? ‘It’s not going to hurt you. It’s just a machine.’

His eyes went wide and saucer-like. ‘You mean it’s a robot?’ he whispered.

I hissed through my teeth. ‘No. I’m going to bed. If you’re going to stay here then don’t touch anything. I have to get some sleep.’

‘But it’s morning. Why do you have to go to bed in the morning?’

‘Sometimes I work nights,’ I said shortly. I waved a finger at him. ‘And I meant what I said. Don’t touch a damn thing. I’ll decide what to do with you later.’

‘Sure, sure.’ He nodded his head vigorously. ‘There’s just one thing though.’

‘What?’

There was a sudden loud thump on the door.

‘Someone’s here to talk to you,’ Bob answered cheerfully. And with that he hopped straight back into the blade.