Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

O ne of the things Gwil had been grateful for was that he was still able to eat after he'd been turned. His body had adapted in the most painful of ways in the days after he'd been bitten, he'd cried out in agony, screaming for mercy and begging for it to end. But holding the massive doner kebab with chilli sauce made it all worthwhile, and his anti-garlic shots meant he no longer had to worry about the odd rogue clove, although it still wasn't pleasant the morning after if he got the timing wrong.

He liked to walk around London at night. Fridays were a particular favourite when the city came alive to celebrate the start of the weekend. Christmas parties had been in full swing, after-work drinks and couples on dates all mixing together. By the time he'd finished with Dr Gilgil, a gnome client wanting a track and trace on his sister, he'd hit the prime human club chucking-out time, and the pavements were as busy as the morning rush hour. As much as he liked the architecture, it was the people, in all their diversity and vibrant mess that he loved most about London. There was a clash of cultures when different clubs and pubs emptied, yet it was rare for a real fight to break out. There were scuffles and drunken arseholes, who were usually mopped up and escorted away by their friends, but no mass brawls. Pockets of hate happened in every city, London was no different, but it wasn't on his radar most of the time.

Gwil headed over the river across Waterloo Bridge. A group of ladies on a hen do, dressed head-to-toe in pink and with fake wings, catcalled him and he winked back. It was nice to have his ego stroked, although he'd have preferred to have been on the receiving end of a stag do's attention. Finishing the last of his kebab, he licked his fingers and balanced his rubbish on an already overflowing bin, then took a shortcut through the arches. It wasn't a route he'd have taken when he was still human. It had been worse back in his day, a rat-run of squalor and filth where those lost to society gathered, and there were still elements of that now.

He heard a scuffle, as a vampire his hearing was more sensitive, but even a human would have been hard-pressed to ignore the obvious noises of someone being handed a beating. If it had been humans he'd have carried on walking, but the squeal sounded fae. In the dark recess, two orcs were laying into a prone form.

"Oi, what's going on?"

They stopped and turned to face him, the one on the left was missing a tusk, and had only one eye, his friend had a patchwork of scars running over his leathery green skin. "Move on, Bitey. No need for you to get involved."

"I don't think so, I don't know what he's done but one fae getting a kicking from a couple of orcs ain't fair."

"Suit yourself. We can give you a kicking too."

Orcs weren't known for their intelligence. They had recognised him for what he was and were still considering taking him on. Orcs did not annoy vampires, in the pecking order of the supernatural they were at a different end of the social scale. But then again so were the fae.

A few throws, and a well-placed punch or two was all it took to have them staggering away. He'd file a report at some point, and he suspected they'd be pretty easy to identify.

Curled up in a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible was the fae. "They've gone. Can you get up?"

He uncurled and, like most fae, he was beautiful, his white-blond hair contrasting with his brown skin and his eyes—well, the one he could see that wasn't swollen shut, were somewhere between bronze and gold. "Why did you help me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

He got to his feet, he had the typical waif-like fae build, enhanced by the skinny jeans, tight T-shirt and fitted leather jacket. "You don't know who I am, or if I deserved the beating."

"I'm Gwil, you tell me your name, and for a fae that's a friendship already. Whether you deserved it isn't my call, but you could tell what you did."

"I'm Chase."

"That's not a very fae name."

"I'm not very fae." He smiled, then winced at the cut in his lip that started to bleed.

Footsteps made Chase flinch, but they died away, and he snatched up a bag Gwil hadn't noticed before. It was a duffel, the sort of bag someone kept all their worldly goods in. "Do you have somewhere to go?"

"Not in London, I'm heading north to stay with a friend. I had intended to find a dark corner to sleep in and then carry on my travels when the trains start."

"You're using human transport? Why?" Most fae had magic, not all on Hyax's level, but he should have access to the portals for general travel.

Chase held out his arm and he saw the Greek letter Sigma tattooed on his wrist. "Understand?"

"What did you do to have your magic limited? That's a five-year sentence."

"Nothing so bad. I'm a little light-fingered, and not tight-lipped—you could say that's what got me into trouble with those orc gentlemen."

"You stole from orcs?"

Chase snorted. "I am neither stupid nor suicidal." He winced and clutched his side. The fae healed fast, but not in damp corners.

Gwil's interest was piqued. "I can offer you a sofa to sleep on."

"That's very trusting. Perhaps you should have offered me your bed."

"You're in no fit state to share a bed with me."

"Pity. I've heard great things about vampire sex."

Gwil shook his head and began to walk away. "Come on if you're coming. You'll be right as rain in a few hours with some sleep."

"Have you got anything to eat at your place?" Chase asked falling into step alongside him.

"I daresay I can rustle something up. As long as you're not fussy."

"That's one thing I'm not."

They weren't far from his place and it was a good job because Chase started limping, although the orcs could have caused much worse damage, and it occurred to Gwil that it was either a warning or a message. He stopped outside his front door. "Before I let you in, what did you do to earn a beating from the orcs?"

"I may have access to certain information that could fetch a decent price to the right people. As you saw, I've had my magic limited which means I have far fewer opportunities to make money."

For the little Gwil knew about the fae legal system, those in Chase's position remained in the fae realm, exactly for those reasons. "Then why come to the human world? Why not live out your time with the fae where you wouldn't need money?"

"That was part of my punishment."

He decided they'd stood outside long enough, and thought he could get more on the information Chase had sold with the offer of food. The fae weren't interested in giving a straight answer. If needed, he could see if Hyax had any insight or had a way to find some.

They took the stairs to his flat that was over his office. He pointed to the lounge. "Make yourself comfortable, I'll see what I have in."

The pickings weren't great, since most of his sustenance came from blood he didn't need to keep much real food in the house, but he did have a penchant for soup and so a few minutes later he returned with a bowl of mulligatawny and some not-as-stale-as-it-could've-been bread.

His offering was gratefully received. "Brilliant, thank you. Humans are quite versatile with their food. Beats honeysuckle blossom and nectar."

"Oh, you're a flower fae? I hadn't realised." He should've realised, now he was inside and closer he could smell the faint waft of roses, and that meant he was a member of Hyax's tribe, and one of the higher-status fae. He wondered if he had a rank. "A summer dancer?"

"It's been a while since I have gone by that mantle. But in essence, you're correct."

They were part of the elite so it was even more surprising Chase was in this predicament. Gwil sat opposite him at his small dining table that was used more for balancing piles of paper than for eating. The more he learnt the more he wanted to know. "Time to answer my questions. If you do I'll pay triple your train fare to wherever you're going."

"Have you a need to know, or are you just nosey?"

"One does not negate the other. But start talking, or I'll toss you back outside and you can shiver your fae arse off and we'll see how quickly you recover in the cold. I hear it might snow."

Chase watched Gwil over his spoon as he took several mouthfuls of soup. "What is it you want to know?"

This fae was as canny as they came, Gwil knew his questions would need to be specific or the answers would be full of vagaries and half-truths. "What information did you sell, and to whom, that upset the orcs?"

Chase smirked. "Nothing that upset the orcs."

"All right, that upset whoever paid the orcs to give you a good kicking."

"Now that's better. It's debatable whether it's real information or just a story from the fae realm that someone who wanted could twist into something real."

Most of mythology was like that, the humans couldn't keep stories straight in their history books, had squandered the presence of the oracle at Delphi, where the priestess had delighted in misdirecting their peers into believing any old rubbish, and he hadn't met a human who wasn't oblivious to the one in Moorgate.

"Which was?"

"The five vials of the tears of youth are real. They don't work in the way humans think, they give a longer lifetime for a human but only because they sit between realms, drawing extra time from each."

He scoffed. "That's not new news, twinkletoes, so you might have told that to a couple of orcs but whoever sent them wouldn't have fallen for it."

"You're brighter than you look. Or older, it's amazing what some humans will and won't believe."

"We're not talking about humans."

Chase picked up the bowl and drank the rest of his soup. "There's a relic. You might have heard the Met have been raiding places trying to find it."

He'd been quick to dismiss the idea there was anything new and shiny. Relics came up almost every other week, one of his sidelines for the Vampire Council was investigating the rare incidences that could be real, and nothing of that ilk had come his way for decades. But then Hyax had mentioned Goya had visited…

"What sort of relic?"

Chase cocked his head to one side. "Fae of course."

"Bullshit. Nothing leaves the fae realm without the royal family of whichever tribe knowing."

"Seems like they aren't as omnipotent as they think they are," Chase said, smirking.

"Okay, let's say that it's true, what sort of relic is it? And remember, while I might not be fae, I have a fairly decent grasp of fae history so don't lead me more of a merry dance than you've already tried."

"I guess it's not really a relic per se. There was once a belief that all fae talent, no matter the faction, came from the Coronet of Alphal, although it turned out to be more of a conduit. But the coronet has seven pretty spikes with a jewel on the top of each representing the seven tribes. The fifth spike has a crystal to drive transmutation—pity it's a fake."

For a moment he thought Chase was taking the piss, or that he might be high on something that had damaged his mental faculties, but there was something about the way his eyes sparkled that made Gwil reconsider. "I would have thought the fae would have noticed."

"The coronet is in the keeping of Queen Talia's tribe. They know but none of the other tribes do and she needs to get it back before they find out—what do you think the Met police are searching for on behalf of the fae once the royal family established it was no longer in the fae realm? And who do you think sent the orcs after me for telling a few people the truth?"

It wasn't the most outlandish story Gwil had ever heard, but it was close. "Given this would be a bit of a big deal, how the fuck do you know?"

"I'm one of Queen Talia's concubines. Or I was. I lost that gig when I got caught helping myself to a few additional pieces from the palace."

He did not like where this was going. "I guess that's why you have your magic limited and were cast out."

"Yup."

"Surely she didn't tell you, or they'd have known you knew about the stone, and you'd have been serving time within an iron circle."

He scoffed at that. "They might have cast me out, but us fae are not barbarians, the iron circle is for only the worst criminals. And a few silk scarves and perfume are hardly worth that."

Something else that didn't add up—the Queen's Concubines might be dismissed by some as posh prostitutes, but in reality it was a cherished position and fitted with Chase being a summer dancer, and the same could be said for those assigned to the king. "Why did you risk your future for something so trivial?"

"It wasn't the stealing per se, more the selling them on to a buyer who paid huge amounts for things belonging or smelling of the queen. Don't look at me like that, it's not like I was selling her used knickers or anything intimate."

"Fucking hell." He realised Chase still hadn't told him how he knew. "But how did you find out about the stone?"

Chase waggled his eyebrows. "Her Majesty talks in her sleep."

He should have left this stupid fucker with the orcs. "I need a drink."

His choice of blood options wasn't great, recovering from the portals had taken more than he usually used, and with the excitement of the new place and upcoming move, he'd not got around to restocking his favourites and wanted comfort not sustenance from generic blood packs he kept for emergencies. Instead he reached for the half bottle of whisky, it still gave him a buzz, and maybe all he needed was the fire as it burned on the way down. He didn't bother with a glass and took a swig straight from the bottle.

Chase yawned. "I need to sleep."

"The couch is all yours."

"Sure I couldn't persuade you to let me share your bed. The QCs don't have the reputation for being the best in the realm for nothing."

Chase was a pretty fae, but then all of them were, still if he was tangled up in the mess with a stolen crown jewel, missing relics and orcs, it would be best for Gwil to avoid the inevitable shitstorm of shagging someone at the centre of it all.

"Not this time." He shooed him away. "The bathroom's on the right. Knock yourself out. I'll grab you a spare pillow and blanket."

He'd need to speak to Hyax about this. Hyax had said he thought something was going on, and if that was the reason, which sounded like it probably was, then that would mean his parents hadn't told him.

He'd be apoplectic.