Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

G wil didn't run. Hundred-and-eighty-year-old vampires did not run. No—he progressed forwards at an accelerated pace, leaving the museum as fast as possible. Once outside, he hailed a black cab and was on his way to the Dock Club, determined not to think about pretty fairies. Maybe he was reading too much into Hyax's reaction, but he didn't need to explain himself. Hyax had been his business associate for fifteen years, and they'd known each other less well for a while before that. He'd always had an attraction towards him and in the last few years, he was sure it would have been obvious, had Hyax wanted to see it.

But he hadn't and now Gwil was on his way across London to a club he didn't want to go to, to spite a man who probably wouldn't give a toss he'd gone in the first place.

If a Hollywood producer were to imagine an underground club frequented by London's finest paranormal inhabitants, then the Dock Club would have been what they'd have pictured. From the outside, it looked like an abandoned warehouse, complete with age-old graffiti, within which were hidden several identifiers and passcodes to get into the club. About halfway up the wall, written in Aramaic was the vampire code word: rhesus pieces . Several other languages Gwil didn't speak were scrawled in various fonts but he recognised the odd word, including those in Tasharick, the language of Hyax's particular brand of fae, not that he'd be here tonight with his painter date. This was not the place to bring your human plaything, unless you wanted to risk them getting eaten, turned or something even worse.

The brute on the door was not pure orc, there was definitely some troll in the mix, and he flared his nostrils as Gwil approached, his olfactory sense as good a species-scanner as any shop-bought or warlock-supplied one. "Evening, son of Scaran."

The traditional greeting to vampires surprised him, he'd not heard that in years. Mind you, that had probably been from an orc too, they tended to be formal beasts, before they ripped the head off their enemy. "Rhesus pieces, my goblin brother."

The doorbeast stepped aside and Gwil entered. Gone was the barren nature of an empty warehouse, the innards of the Dock Club were as nice as any human nightclub of the type that wasn't so fussy about who they let in. Nightclubs weren't his idea of fun and one of the few things he missed about being human was his gentleman's club. The vampire one didn't quite have the same air about it, although in the 1900s the clientele wore a lot more clothes and were unlikely to be bumping and grinding with each other, which would not be the case in the Dock Club in a few hours.

He hurried over to the bar and ordered an Italian 19, preferring something younger, and a bit sweeter this evening. Glass of blood in hand, he scanned the club to find who he was meant to be meeting. The dancefloor wasn't busy, it was too early for the serious dancers. He spotted Nella in a corner deep in discussion with who, at first glance, he thought was human. Then he realised his ears were too pointy and he mustn't be on his time of the month as the rest of his werewolf traits were well- hidden. Also with them was an older woman, a wood nymph by the pattern on her skin, which reminded him of bark.

"Hi, Gwil. Wasn't sure you were going to make it—thought you might bail on us," said Nella.

"Wonders will never cease," he said, taking a seat.

"Always good to see new faces. I'm Gloria," said the wood nymph.

"Fred." Their puppy pal held up a hand and then, scratched behind his ear. "Yeah, welcome, I don't bite. Unless it's a full moon."

"Right." God, werewolves had the worst sense of humour. "Pretty sure you guys don't go for vampires. Something about how you prefer fresh meat."

Fred gave him a cursory sniff and wrinkled his nose, which was disconcerting but expected once he'd said who he was. "You're safe from me. But then so are the living. I'm dry. I haven't eaten a human since 2019. Very freeing it's been."

"Fred's a member of the Furry Freedomers," said Nella, with a shy smile. "He's got his orange badge already."

He'd heard of the vegan werewolf brigade and the last thing he wanted was this to end up in a discussion about recipes for meat substitutes and nuts. "I'm afraid, I still partake," he saluted him with his glass. "Blood substitutes just don't cut it for me. Although I tend to go by the bottle rather than fresh from the source."

"It's still human blood though, just because that vampire nerd Hoffman figured out how to stop it coagulating in the bottle doesn't mean it's less human consumption," Fred said.

Dear God, there was nothing so self-righteous as an ex-consumer. "I'm not here to argue ethics, but I know that the draining process they use for bottling doesn't kill or turn the human, so I think if you're into human rights, you should be pro-bottled blood." It wasn't the whole story and he'd bitten enough humans when he'd been newly turned and not got a handle on his blood lust to get pulled into this argument.

"How would you know that? The process is closely guarded."

Another story he didn't want to share. "I dated Hoffman for a while." Twenty years, and he was still a friend, although he did do a good impression of a creepy ex at times.

Gloria gasped. "You could have been living a life of luxury, he's richer than God!"

"Money isn't everything." He cleared his throat. "Anyway, enough about that, it was over forty years ago."

He scanned the dancefloor, hoping to see something pretty enough for the evening to take his mind off Hyax. He didn't know why he bothered, it was fruitless trying not to think of him, but at least this way he could trick himself into believing he was doing something to break his infatuation.

Nella scooted closer. "I didn't expect you to come. What changed your mind?"

"Needed a night out. There's only so much TV I can stand, and if I'd stayed in, I'd have carried on working."

"No pretty fairy with you, I see."

"He's busy." He tried not to sound bitter but he couldn't manage it. "Always too busy for me outside of work."

Nella pouted and squeezed his thigh, he didn't need her pity. "The fae are self-absorbed creatures, have you tried telling him how you feel?"

He'd thought many times about telling Hyax, almost did once but had backed out when Hyax had got his head turned by the arrival of a gorgeous Black singer and had left him mid-sentence. "It's better to be in the friendzone than no zone."

"That sounds a very human thing to say."

"There's no need to be insulting. Besides, we're business partners, it could ruin everything if it got weird between us."

"It's already weird," Nella said, sipping a glowing green concoction he thought he'd rather not know the contents of.

Fred leant in. "Did you guys hear about Testament?"

"The club under The Strand?" asked Gwil. It was a pretty popular high-end nightclub, the sort of place that wouldn't let him through the door. "What about it?"

"It got raided by the Met last night."

"Which Met? The real police or the spooky brigade?"

Nella snorted. "Bitter much?"

"Paranormal branch. Goya himself! I heard they had a tip-off about some sort of relic."

Gwil tutted. Goya turning up was nothing special—he wanted to be seen to be doing something even if it was completely useless. "There's always a relic or a hot spot. They've probably overreacted to a whisper or have been asked by a high-ranking ghoul to raid the place because he was pissed off he didn't get in one time."

Fred seemed sceptical. "Dunno, a colleague told me they carried off several boxes—one of which was glowing."

In Gwil's experience, deadly supernatural objects did not glow, hum or sparkle, they were the most normal-looking things, which was why in some part they were so dangerous.

"Did they arrest anyone?"

"Not that I heard."

"Then it wasn't anything more than them flexing their muscles. Listen, there's mayoral elections around the corner, talk of budget cuts every other week, and the Met will need to try and stay relevant."

He'd ask around, just in case, because it was good for business to make sure he was ahead of the curve.

Fred scrunched up his nose. "It's gotta be more than that. There's been several of these raids—I don't want to believe it's just the police being heavy-handed."

Fred's naivety was refreshing, especially coming from a werewolf who, from what he'd witnessed, were one of the most persecuted sub-species. "I'd rather that than there being a real problem."

Gwil drained his drink. "Anyone for another?"

It seemed that the others were happy to nurse their drinks even with someone else paying. He took a circuitous path to the bar, taking a moment to watch the dancers. Those who were already dancing were a bit too enthusiastic for it to be just for the joy of the music, and he suspected they were high. Two pretty fae, although not of Hyax's kinfolk, were grinding together. Part of him wanted to get in between them but that would be a mistake. He didn't have the patience to deal with anyone dosed up to the eyeballs with the designer drug du jour.

The bar was now busier than earlier and he had to wait longer to get served. Briefly, he considered giving up and going home. Tonight had not been his brightest idea, coming here to spite Hyax had been dumb.

"I thought it was you."

He turned. "Penelope. As beautiful as ever I see."

"All in the genes. Have you been deliberately avoiding me, brother dearest?"

Family relations had been strained over the years. He'd been surprised she'd remembered him, as it seemed to be a bit hit or miss if a vampire remembered their life before they were turned, but then she'd gone on to not speak to him for three decades when she realised that his sire had been a higher-ranking vampire than her own. She'd solved the issue by marrying up.

"Busy, that's all. I didn't think a Dark Countess would be seen in such a place as this."

"I like to see how the normal people live," she said with a smirk.

A barman came straight to her when she waved and ignored his scowl as he was passed over to be served. "Bottle of the Parisian 45, two glasses."

She smiled at him. "I assume you'll join me for a drink. There's a couple of things we should discuss and I thought, with your line of work, you may have some valuable insights."

Penelope didn't wait for him to answer instead she slunk away to a booth in the VIP area. He sighed. There was no way he wasn't going to hear her out and he followed, only to be stopped by a security troll. She peered around the side and beckoned him over.

"Go on then, I'll bite," he said sitting down.

She poured two glasses of blood. "How very droll, now I understand why you don't have a boyfriend. Let alone a husband."

"I left the marrying to you, Mother would have been so proud."

"Somehow I doubt having both her children turned into vampires would have been high on her achievements list."

"She was an ex-nun—it was evidently ecumenical karma." He wasn't in the mood for small talk, be it with his sister or his friends. "I remember her being vaguely pleased that I joined the police, less so when she found out about my laudanum habit, but there you go. Now what is it you want?"

"Why are you so grumpy? Here I am offering you an expensive drink in a lovely… well… nice enough club. The night is young."

"Well, I'm not."

"All right, grumpus. What do you know about Stardust?"

"The film? Or the drug?"

"For someone who wanted to move the conversation along, you're being rather facetious. The drug."

"It's what half the dancefloor's on by the look of it. Latest fashion, short high but relatively harmless compared to others."

She played with her glass. " Harmless … now that's an interesting adjective."

"It's not highly addictive or known to cause lasting side effects. At least not to supernatural creatures—it's killed a couple of humans."

"But it does lower people's inhibitions, and I heard there's been a couple of batches that hit the streets recently that caused concern."

"Why?"

"A little bird, in a little lab, told me it was contaminated with iron filings. And another with silver."

That gave him pause. Stardust was usually snorted and even a small amount of either of those elements could cause a nasty reaction in certain species. "I assume the authorities think it was deliberate."

"Since their stance on drugs is that if someone takes it then the consequences are theirs to own, the authorities haven't given it a moment's consideration."

"They don't turn a blind eye to drug deaths. They'd be all over those."

"Oh, no one's died—yet. But there was something else, another component that was isolated but not identified, and the boffins think it makes an individual more suggestive, compliant almost."

"Surely that's most drugs." He glanced back over the dancefloor. "Look at them, they're lost in the rhythm of the music, almost hypnotised by it and whatever it is they've taken."

"But they're not shedding magic."

He almost choked on his drink. "What?"

"I thought that might get your attention. A fae was brought into A&E unable to stop herself projecting, almost drained the poor thing. Healers flushed her through and she was fine after a transfusion and rest."

He didn't like the sound of that. "Just fae?"

"There had been other incidents but not confirmed."

"And how do you know all this?"

She knocked back her drink and refilled her glass. "I have my people in several places, no different to how you have yours."

She made it sound as if he had his own Bow Street runners, and while his contacts were good, they weren't a pack of street urchins running around feeding back information. Well, not exactly. "I suppose I could ask a few discreet questions."

"That was what I was hoping. You have avenues to explore that I don't."

"Why do you care though? Stardust isn't your poison."

"It might sound strange, but it isn't sitting right, there's something odd and I don't like it. Put together with the increase in Met activity, it makes the Council unsettled."

He groaned. "I'm not getting involved in Vampire Council business."

"I'm not asking you to. You're simply doing your sweet little sister a favour—to put her mind at rest."

His sweet little sister who through her marriage had worked her way into liaising with the elite security wing of the Vampire Council, and had come to pick his brain and resources knowing he couldn't say no. Gwil knew tonight had been a bad idea. He grabbed the bottle and stood. "I'm going home. And taking this with me."

"Be my guest. Perhaps you and that delightful Hyax of yours can pop around for tea? I'll send an invitation."

"He's not mine, as well you know."

He slunk off. He wanted to go home.