Blood & Magic (24 page)

Meyer awoke to breakfast in bed, Ruth placing a silver tray on his lap. He finished the toast, the pot of tea and, as he ate the last slithers of egg, Meyer's thoughts turned to the day ahead. He hated the under-city: all the dirt, grime and beggars that filled the streets, but he had to go, what he had discovered was the only lead they had.

He dressed and made his way to the kitchen, where Ruth was happily washing up the pans from breakfast while singing some song about how her ‘hips don’t lie.’ She did listen to some God awful modern music.

“Thank you my dear, that was lovely,” Meyer said.

“Glad you liked it, great news this morning, isn’t it?” Ruth said.

“News? Have they made progress with Mark’s murder?”

“No, unfortunately. There were no caterpillars in the greenhouse today however, which is
brilliant
news. Looks like the little fellas have given up.”

“That’s great,” Meyer said, rather despondent.

“You find that, after a time, everybody surrenders to the constant pressure of war, the ungiving force that is as unrelenting as the wind.”

“They were only caterpillars you know.”

Meyer walked into the study and withdrew the vial of liquid he had stolen from Wade's office from the drawer. He held it close to his eyes, turning the vial slightly so the liquid oozed along the inside.

“What’s that?” Ruth said, entering the study as she unfastened her apron.

“Something I took from Wade's office, I have been trying to decide what to do with it. I think it's a weapon of some kind.”

“You should really figure out what it
does
then, my dear.”

“And how do you suppose I do that?”

“Ask Rosy, she’s good with that sort of thing.”

“Of course, I'll call her now.”

“She can let herself in and remember to give her my love. Righty then, when are we off?”

“
We
?”

“Don’t you go thinking I am going to leave you to get lost in the under-city? You struggle enough when you have to make your way home in London-proper and you normally have a driver!”

“It could be dangerous, I am not sure what sort of reaction I will face.”

“Whatever it is, we will deal with it together. Anyway, I haven’t been to the under-city in ages.”

So it was decided. Ruth accompanied Meyer to Camden market, but not before she had collected some snacks for their journey, allowing Meyer five minutes to call Rosalyn.

They walked along the market stalls in the old stables, until they came upon a shop stacked high with glass jars of tea, proclaiming to sell the ‘Best Tea Leaves in Camden’. Meyer thought it not the highest bar to set oneself against (only having the best tea leaves in
Camden
), but this was the entrance to the under-city he had always used, so the fact mattered little. Exchanging a twenty pound note for a small bag of tea leaves, Meyer and Ruth were permitted to walk through the satin curtain located at the back of the stall. Beyond it was a brick lined corridor that to a human, or indeed an Alternate who was unaware of it, appeared to be nothing more than a dead end. Meyer and Ruth walked through the
dead end
and into a similar shop in the under-city. The shop owner of the under-city part of the tea shop was waiting for them, so Meyer ended up with two bags of
finest Camden tea
that he didn’t actually want and the shop keepers maintained their money making scheme.

Their next job was to find Sabrina. Meyer was aware of the sewer entrance, but there were plenty of others that didn't involve crawling through drainpipes. The entrance via The Two Gates Club wasn’t an option either, Byron wouldn’t permit that, but Meyer knew of another.

They came to a little shop with a large glass door that opened to a multitude of mirrors of varying shapes and sizes, aged and speckled with flecks of silver and copper. The shop keeper shuffled out to great them, an old woman hunched over so much as to be able to touch her toes without trying (which would have been quite a task given her size, for she was as round as she was tall), and eyed Meyer with a sneer.

“What do you want, fatty?” she said.

“Pot calling the kettle black isn’t it my dear?” Meyer said.

“Bugger off,” she said.

“Well, that isn’t a way to conduct business,” Ruth said.

“Is it not? Well, as I said then, bugger off,” the old woman said.

“How much is she paying you?” Meyer said.

He reached out with his mind and was met with alarming hostility, his thoughts crashing into the wall that surrounded hers.

“That won’t do you any good fatty,” the old woman said.

He supposed that was to be expected, but this would have been easier if she had been any other kind of alternate than a mentalist.

“Then perhaps this will?” Meyer said.

He opened his wallet and pulled out two twenty pound notes. The old woman suddenly perked up, rushing towards him, her fingers splayed as she momentarily resembled a child in a sweet shop. She plucked the notes out of his hands and examined them closely, bringing them to her nose as if to smell them for authenticity. She huffed and, like a whip, flicked her hand across Meyer’s wallet and withdrew another two notes, these ones fifties.

“Much better. Go on then, fatties, through you go,” the old woman said. “It’s that mirror in the corner and make sure you don’t leave porky behind. If Sabrina spots you coming through this way, I’ll swear blind you forced the information from me, threatened me something proper, you got it?”

Meyer grabbed Ruth’s arm before she took a swing at the woman and headed for a single body height mirror leant awkwardly in the corner of the room. With an intake of breath, they walked through it and found themselves in the entrance hall of Sabrina’s lair. Ruth led the way into the grand ballroom which, through the trials of time, had lost any aspect of grandiose. The tables were covered in ash and the room was decayed beyond repair, the grand chandelier at the centre having lost so many crystals as to be more frame than anything.

It was a moment before they noticed it, the sound of springs compressing under more pressure than they were designed for, of a headboard banging against the wall and the creak of an old bed. It came from the room at the top of the stairs and what greeted them inside, Meyer could only describe as vulgar.

Sabrina lay on top of what was once, he assumed, a healthy man. She was naked, as was he. Those who have never seen the result of a Vampiris attack would be shocked, but Meyer had seen this handiwork before. The man was as white as marble, his muscles wasted to nothing and his hair thinned to fragile strands of grey. His mouth was open, his face expressing a weird combination of absolute pleasure and horror. She had drained him of all of his life and, as she lifted herself from him for one final time, his body gave way as Sabrina gave out a cry of jubilation, her body shimmering as it took on a new lease of life. She turned without any look of surprise to Meyer, a smile wide across her face, “You really should knock, you know.”

Five minutes later, Sabrina was dressed in a short red gown and had joined Meyer and Ruth around a table in the ballroom.

“What do you want?” Sabrina said.

“We should really arrest you for what you just did, girl,” Ruth said.

“I would love to see you try.”

“Mark’s body, where is it?” Meyer said.

“I wouldn’t know,” Sabrina said.

“Game is up Sabrina, I saw your effect on a particular technician at the morgue.”

“Oh, that was
clever
of you. Can I ask how?”

“You left a lasting impression, even if you tried to remove it before you left.”

“Stupid human emotions, so fragile.”

“So, I’ll ask again or Ruth will be forced to stick a stake so far through your heart, even you won’t be able to regenerate,” Meyer said.

“Ouch, no need to be mean. I didn’t take it, I was just the distraction,” Sabrina said.

“Then who did?”

“I am not telling you that.”

“I already know it was Silas.”

“I’m not going to say a word to you, I know how this works.”

“Well then, we will just assume that was the case and that he must also be the killer we are seeking.”

“Silas is not Grendal,” Sabrina said, laughing churlishly.

“If you force my hand, the Inquisition will be very interested to know-”

“He was working on behalf of Deliverance, they are the ones you want, not him.”

“Why should I believe that? Silas was always handy with a blade and he is quick, that much is true. He is also good at disappearing, as is the nature of your kind.”

“Look, okay. My foolish brother is unfortunately involved with the wrong crowd, but he isn’t your serial killer and certainly isn’t Grendal. Sure he kills a lot of people, but not humans. Why waste the energy?” Sabrina said.

“I'll need more than your word,” Meyer said.

“How about some information? Adrianna, and yes I mean
the
Adrianna, is behind the Deliverance movement. She paid Silas to retrieve the body in an attempt to work out who has been killing off the Inks.”

“Why does she care?”

“Adrianna isn’t the only third order alternate who isn't as dead, or mythical, as everyone has grown to believe. It's not just the competition she's worried about, rumour has it that Wade-”

A bell chimed on the wall, interrupting Sabrina. Meyer looked across to see what looked like an old service bell strung up in hotels, rattling on its fixture. Sabrina spun to look at it and turned back to Meyer and Ruth, her body rigid like a startled cat.

“Meyer, you did a service to my brother and I when we were younger, so now I return the favour. Follow me,” Sabrina said.

Whatever was coming, Sabrina was scared of it, that was obvious. It was enough to convince Meyer he could trust her. She escorted the two up into the bedroom and over to a large painting that was around six feet wide, spanning from ceiling to floor. It was of a couple, Sabrina’s parents, sitting upon a bed of their victims, blood dripping from the corner of their mouths. She moved to the side of the painting and opened it, as if it were a door. It revealed an iron safe, as deep as it was wide, filled with jewels and paintings stacked against every wall. Sabrina’s retirement fund no doubt, or gifts from short lived suitors.

“We aren’t going in there,” Ruth said.

“Meyer, trust me.
Please
,” Sabrina said.

Meyer pair stepped into the safe, Ruth following reluctantly behind, and Sabrina closed the door on them. They were left in darkness apart from a small glow of light from the corner. Meyer crouched down beside it, he couldn't see out into the dining room, but he could hear what was going on.

“Sabrina? Where are you?” a man’s voice said with a jester like tonality.

“I'm here,” Sabrina said.

“Sabrina, what were you up to? You must have known I was coming?” the voice said.

“I was just… finishing up with a client, you know my trade.”

“Oh, I do. That is why I am here of course. I would have come sooner, but there has been
so much
happening.”

“You know I don’t want to be involved in this.”

“You will work for me until I say otherwise or I will have her remove each of your limbs, one at a time, while you slowly bleed to death. Your regenerative powers will try to save you, but it will be of no use. The agony will be exquisite, I promise.”

He spoke softly, like reciting a nursery rhyme without the hint of the disgusting image of the things he was saying.

Who was he?

“The boy, our dearest Henry. What did you find? I hope you have good news for me?”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“You
didn’t see anything
? Maybe I should have Silas brought here and then gently remind you of how important this is to me. Tell me what you saw,
now
.”

His words hit a rhythm, vicious and deliberate, like strikes to a violin.

“His power was new, his memories a cascade of confusion, I saw no sign of it.”

“No sign? And I am to believe that? Are you telling me Meyer’s wards have held in place after all this time?”

“I am telling you the truth. If I did not see it, he cannot have.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am certain. Maybe he just has yet to come across it himself? The boy has only just changed, give him six months-”

“Six months!”

The jester’s voice turned husk, his tone unstable.

“Yes, I say wait six months. He will have access to all of Mark’s possessions and the entirety of the Inquisition by then. If it is hidden somewhere there, the boy’s subconscious will recognise it when he sees it, I will find out and tell you. Then you can take him, do what you will, kill him, I don’t care. Our deal was that I help you find the blood in exchange for my freedom,” Sabrina said.

“I won't lose it to them or to Wade,” he said.

“And you won't.”

There was the noise of steps across the floor, followed by a slap that echoed around the hall as Sabrina cried out.

“You don't want to disappoint me Sabrina. Until next time then.”

The safe door opened and Sabrina stood in front of them, blood trickling from her brow.

“Sabrina, are you okay? Who was that?” Meyer said.

“I cannot and will not involve you in this, now get out. You hold no fear to me, not compared to him,” Sabrina said. “The world is about to become a much darker place for all of us. You two should go hide, retreat to your Scottish mansion or leave the country, if you know what is good for you. Change is coming to both of the worlds and the fallout will be beyond your wildest nightmares.”

“And the boy?”

“It's too late for him, there is nothing you can do.”

“You are a fool, I put gate spells in Henry’s mind to stop him receiving any of Mark’s memories. Henry will not-”

“I know you did, but that doesn’t put a stop to his plan. Now Meyer, you can try and access my mind to find your answers, but you will fail. Ruth, you can beat me, but I fear someone who can do worse things than you can even imagine. It's over Meyer, this isn't a war you can win.”