A Crack in Everything (3 page)

‘Not a fan, huh?’ She felt a little guilty. But Dylan would understand, wouldn’t he? Or not. Probably not. Guy-pride would see to that. But apart from him the band were pretty bloody awful. Especially the bass-dork. What was his name again? Jeez, Marianne said it often enough.

‘Not as such,’ Jinx said, although his voice softened, and genuine humour inflected it. ‘That guitarist of theirs can play,’ he offered after another moment or two. Izzy’s breath evened out. Dylan, he was talking about Dylan. That assuaged her guilt a little.

‘He can. The others though …’ She shrugged.

‘At least you seem to have some taste to replace your lack of sense. What were you doing in the alley to begin with?’

As if she didn’t feel ashamed enough of her foolishness. She should have known better, even in daylight, in the middle of a city. But with the angel there, she hadn’t thought. Instead she’d had images of art projects at school, of recreating it somehow.
All she’d wanted was a photo. Source material and all that. It was such a stupid reason when she thought about it now.

‘I wanted to see the angel,’ she whispered, mortified.

‘An angel?’ His face grew serious. ‘Well, angels are something else little girls should stay away from.’

‘
Little …?
’ But Jinx smiled, a broad wide smile, and she realised to her greater embarrassment and outrage that he was teasing her. ‘Oh …’ She wanted to stamp her foot and storm away, but that would just confirm it to him, wouldn’t it? That she was just a kid getting into trouble by herself? ‘Very funny!’ she snarled at him and held her ground. ‘What is the angel, anyway?’

Jinx frowned at her, his glower intimidating.

Someone can only intimidate you if you let them, Isabel
.

That was what Mum always said. Although the business suits, the multiple degrees and the MBA probably helped. Didn’t matter. Izzy held her ground.

‘Well?’ she asked again, her hands jerking up to her hips so her elbows stuck out at either side. He wasn’t going to answer.

‘Aren’t you already late?’

She could try a different tack. ‘
What
is Mistle?’

At the sound of the tramp’s name, the corner of Jinx’s upper lip drew up into a sneer. ‘
That
is someone you
definitely
don’t want to see again. At best, he’s a petty thief. Back away, Izzy. Mistle and his kind are scum.’

‘And what about
your
kind?’

Jinx snorted and set off again, striding down the narrow
street. Izzy hurried after him, struggling to keep up with his long-legged stride. For a freaking Goth, he moved fast. And here she thought they were all emo vampire wannabes.

He stopped at the junction of Exchequer Street, with the black-painted façade of the music shop on the other side of the road. The city swirled around them, cars, pedestrians, bicycles, all those lives whirling by.

‘Well, there you are. Enjoy.’

A slightly discordant clash of drums and guitars burst out of the doorway and Izzy winced. Jinx’s chuckle made her look up at him.

‘Are you an expert or something?’

To her surprise a smile flickered over his lips. ‘Something,’ he replied. ‘You take care now. I’d best be going.’

She nodded and pursed her lips together. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered and his eyes widened in surprise

Jinx’s face hardened again almost as quickly. ‘You’re welcome,’ he grunted. ‘Go on. They’ll be worried about you.’

That would be the day.

She waited a moment longer, staring up into his sculpted face. His eyes stared deeply into hers, unwavering, and for a moment she wondered if he would lean forward and kiss her. It wasn’t far. If she stood up on her toes she’d be within reach. He’d only have to bend his head, curve his long neck.

His lips parted and before she knew what she was doing, she let her eyelids flutter closed, tilting her face up towards him.

But he didn’t kiss her. Instead he gave the smallest sigh. ‘I’ve got to go.’

Shock and shame flooded through her like icy water. She turned away and crossed the street, head down as she aimed for the door and tried to staunch the sting of mortification.

Jinx’s voice drifted across the sound of traffic and pedestrians. ‘Goodbye, Izzy.’

She turned around as she stepped up onto the pavement and caught a final glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. He stood there, without moving, staring at her. Only for another moment before he turned sideways. The sunlight flared behind him, blinding her, and then he was gone.

Chapter Three

Old Blood

J
inx let Izzy go reluctantly. She crossed the road, a little slip of a thing with shoulder-length red hair that, illuminated by the sun, seemed too bright to be entirely natural, darting through the traffic and other people. By the time she reached the far side and glanced over her shoulder, he had already pulled the glamour around him, turning sideways to the sun so as to be invisible to human eyes. The girl paused in the doorway of the music shop, gazing back almost as if she could – well, not see him, but still sense him, perhaps? Could that be it? A touch of old blood, perhaps? It had looked like she could see through his glamour, just for a moment or two. But that wasn’t possible in this day and age when fae and humans rarely mixed anymore, let alone interbred. The old blood had largely died out.

His instincts stirred, the deep-seated ancient knowledge of
hunter and hunted, intuitive and primal. Standing still as a statue, the late afternoon crowds flowed around him. Light broke through a far off gap in the clouds and fell on her. She glowed with it – special. He couldn’t shake the sense that she was special. And that discomfited him more than he could say. Mistle had already noticed her, after all, and it took something mighty special to get him to crawl out of whatever bottle he was currently drowning himself in.

Even Jinx’s glamour hadn’t worked as fully on her as it should have. Mortal girls blushed and flushed, begging him for attention from the moment he touched them. A fae could always make a human’s blood run hot. It was the way of things.

But she’d fought it. She’d fought so hard. For all appearances, it had barely affected her at all … well, right up until the end.

Why hadn’t he taken advantage of that moment? He breathed out slowly, forcing his body to unwind. She’d looked like something else, something much greater than she was. Old blood, old soul, old and powerful. But she wasn’t. She was just a girl.

Jinx waited until she sighed and turned away. She vanished inside. The sun slid behind the clouds and his world seemed a darker and colder place.

Coincidence, he told himself. Nothing more.

But that was a human excuse. The problem was that in the world of synchronisations all the fae inhabited, there was rarely any such thing.

Unsettled, he headed back home, subtly moulding a path through the crowd of pedestrians who could not see him. A small trick, easily crafted, but one that made life so much easier. Just a case of turning their attention to something – anything – else but him while at the same time making them loath to walk too close to him. Just enough to get them out of his way. From the alleyway it was a short step into the Sídhe-space comprising his home, part of the larger network of
Sídhe-ways
which made up Dubh Linn. The fae city existed slightly to the left of the human one, overlaid upon it, lurking in the shadows and the forgotten places, the points of intersection where the two converged and all the places stolen away by his people over the centuries. It was grubby and glorious, full of things that never were, the half-dreams of a drink-sodden night. If the gilt had rubbed off it in places, that was only to be expected. Dubh Linn was not for the unwary.

He was suddenly glad he’d shown her the way out.

The club was almost deserted. With all the lights on, it lost its mystery and took on a shabby air. A far cry from the hollows of old, the elders were fond of saying, his matriarch Holly most dismissively of all. Jinx didn’t know and didn’t really want to know. Life in a hole in the ground, miles from the arse end of nowhere, didn’t appeal. He’d always lived in the city, as had most of the fae he knew. Times had changed, another favourite quote among his elders, but in this he was glad of it.

A sound at the open door made him turn. The Magpies stood there, side by side, blocking any chance of escape. They
looked alike, dressed as always in pristine black and white, their sharp eyes focused on him and on him alone.

‘Well, now, there he is,’ said Mags, smoothing back his glossy black hair from his forehead.

‘A hard man to track, our Jinx,’ Pie agreed.

‘What do you want?’ he asked, shifting nervously and failing to hide it. ‘Silver’s not here. Club’s not open until later.’ And if Silver found them muscling their way into her domain without permission, she’d have their hides. She was in charge of this hollow.

Mags cocked his head to one side and smiled that heartless smile. ‘Oh, we’re not after a social life. Not yet, anyway. The council’s meeting for a parlay in the Casino. You’re wanted.’

He froze, staring at them. It couldn’t be a lie. Not even the Magpies would risk that. The council operated on a level of mutual distrust and loathing – enemies under a painfully fragile truce – that somehow worked to maintain equilibrium between all the different kiths. Their word was law – or as close to an actual law any of his people would obey. So the council, gathered together, demanding his presence specifically… that couldn’t be good. The Magpies served just one member of the council, the Amadán, and Jinx owed no allegiance to him, a fact for which he was eternally grateful. But a summons from the council … What they want? What did
Holly
want? As matriarch of his kith, she wasn’t the patient kind. It would bend her nose right out of joint if he shamed her in front of the other members. Especially if Brí was there.
It was no secret the two of them loathed each other. And no secret that Jinx had been born in Brí’s hollow and handed over to Holly after the fact. Brí had marked him as surely as Holly, giving a geis to ensnare his destiny instead of tattoos and piercings. They always left their mark, the matriarchs.

He had no choice but to attend. Shame Holly and he might as well hide for the rest of his short and miserable life.

‘Well, we wouldn’t want to keep them waiting, would we?’ he said, as if it didn’t bother him at all.

Mags laughed as Jinx pushed by him, shoulder nudging shoulder, neither of them wanting to give way.

‘There’s a good dog,’ Pie murmured with a snide tone as they followed him out of the hollow. At the back of his neck, Jinx felt his hackles rise.

The Sídhe-ways wound between the human world and the fae one, part of neither and intrinsic to both, in and out of time and space, borrowing minutes here and paying them back whenever. It made travel faster, but it could also mess with time, making an hour seem like a day or a week appear to be no more than an hour. Travellers had to know what they were doing, and even then, Jinx thought as they stepped out of a shimmering heat haze to evening sunlight instead of afternoon, it was too easy to slip up.

Pie cursed and checked his watch, the hands of which were
whirling around to catch up with reality. ‘Come on, we’re late.’

Jinx didn’t hurry his gait as they headed across the lawns to the small neo-classical house built in the eighteenth century and quickly assimilated by the Aes Sídhe council so that it dwelt in a neutral area of Sídhe space. Stolen, some might say, or borrowed. Snatched out of one world and into another, but not gone. Not really. It transcended here and there, balanced precariously between the two. The Aes Sídhe loved all things beautiful and deceptive, and it fitted that description. The Casino was only fifty feet square but contained sixteen rooms, and myriad tricks of the eye. Most people translated the name as ‘Little House’ when ‘House of Pleasure’ was nearer the mark. It had never been used for gambling. Well, not for money.

The three of them passed unseen by the thin trickle of unwary tourists heading down the steps to the reception – who barely noticed them, let alone anything strange about their surroundings – and climbed the steps on the northern side to the enormous weathered oak door. Set inside the panels was the actual door, of a more normal size, and it opened to them at a touch. In the main hall, they crossed the highly decorated floor and Pie opened the central of three polished mahogany doors. The air shimmered like a heat haze. Jinx followed Pie, Mags taking up the rear, and they entered through a portal built into the fabric of the house. But like this place built entirely of illusions, the door led elsewhere. The world shifted subtly, shivering like a dog with a flea on its back,
and the Casino changed with it, still resplendent and ornate, but now eternally new, gold instead of gilt and dazzling in its beauty.
This
Casino, on the fae side of the worlds, glittered and the space stretched to accommodate a banqueting hall far greater than possible in the building outside Dubh Linn.

But inside, anything was possible.

Lights hovered beneath a mirrored ceiling, revolving around one another, illuminating the chamber and the table dominating the centre, its surface inlaid with rare woods in intricate, delicate patterns that defied the eye. The three figures sitting around it remained oblivious to the finery of their surroundings. Beside each of them was an empty chair, demarcating the boundaries and distances between them. The largest chair of all, right at the end of the table, was similarly unoccupied.

The Magpies fell behind Jinx as he entered the room. Silver smiled from her place by the silk-lined wall, her hair iridescent in the moving light, her pale grey eyes darting warily to Holly. Their matriarch didn’t deign to notice Jinx yet. She was feeding scraps of fragrant meat to the fae sitting at her feet. She teased him, dangling the food over him before allowing him to take it with his mouth.

He was one of the Aes Sídhe too, the higher nobility of the fae, but that didn’t spare him. Stripes of red scored his back from her crop and he shuddered with a mixture of humiliation and despair as she fed him. His hands remained pressed hard on the polished parquet floor. It was hard to feel any sympathy. Most of the Aes Sídhe who’d ever paid Jinx a scrap
of attention in the past had mocked and ridiculed him. But that didn’t make it any better to see one of them so broken now. It just reminded him of the things Holly had put him through over the years. She loved to show her power over those she ruled, especially those who crossed her. She wielded her power like a scalpel. Or a cudgel, when it suited her.

He wondered what this poor sap had done. He didn’t want to know.

Jinx fought to keep the scowl off his face as he watched, waiting for her to notice him. She was his matriarch. Until she did that, he didn’t exist for anyone else in the room. He used the time to study the other members of the council sitting today. Only three members had come, the three who hated each other more than the rest. Yet still they came, and met. Mainly to show they didn’t fear each other. Even if they did. Jinx suspected it made no more sense to them than it did to him.

Brí’s riotous red hair was a marked contrast to Holly’s sleek blonde bob. She was shuffling through some papers, looking anywhere but at Jinx. Brí was as beautiful and terrible as any one of the Aes Sídhe, but normally reclusive.

For a moment she looked so very familiar that something inside him ached and he wanted nothing more than to go to her, to serve her. He’d been born to be her creature, and the blood ran true. His father had died torn between her and the family he should never have even tried to have. And even when Brí had given Jinx to Holly in payment for honour
broken, she’d cursed him at the same moment, giving him a geis that made him walk on a knife’s edge in everything he did, one that could see him enslaved or dead in a moment. An
obligation
. That was the polite term for it. When the Sídhe deigned to be polite.

Her dog. Always. Even when he wasn’t anymore. The urge was too strong.
The blood ran true
. That was what happened to any pack animal, any hound. And though Holly owned him, though her charms and sigils bound him more firmly to his Aes Sídhe form, the dog would not be silenced completely. It wanted out. Always.

The only other person seated at the table was Amadán himself, an aged man in appearance, but nothing so vulnerable in reality. He ruled alone, without a matriarch, and his followers, like the Magpies, were to be feared.

There was no sign of Donn, naturally, but he never came anymore. Jinx couldn’t remember a time when he had. They kept his place though – wouldn’t dare not to. Donn was the most powerful of them, or so the lore said, the oldest and the most obscure, the dweller in the dark. Jinx had never laid eyes on him. He didn’t know many who had.