Crimes Against Magic (20 page)

I raised an eyebrow and started in on a second sandwich and a double decker chocolate bar. "Really? I thought human blood was the best you could get."

Laurel smiled, showing a tiny amount of fang. "You like steak, yes? Would you like steak every day for the rest of your life? Of course not, that would be stupid and you'd soon get bored. So we mix up the human with cow, chicken, or any other animal we feel like. A few years ago one of us started biting the animals at London Zoo, apparently lion blood is delicious."

 For some reason I couldn't help but find that ridiculous and laughed. It was the kind of laugh that makes your ribs ache, which as I'd had mine broken not long ago, made me wheeze and cough in pain. "Don't do that," I said with a smile.

"You're an odd man for a sorcerer," Laurel said, removing the cooler so I could lie back down.

"Why do you say that?"

"Most of your kind are suspicious of vampires. They think we're only one step away from one of your fabled crimes against magic. You don't appear to have that problem."

"Maybe the old me did, I just don't remember."

She shook her head. "Maybe, but ever since I was turned against my will fifteen years ago, you're the first sorcerer I've met who has looked at me with honesty in his eyes. Not fear, suspicion, or the need to use me for his own agenda. "

"Who turned you?"

"A bitch. Francis saved me from her, and has looked after me ever since. He likes you, and that's rare."

"He charged me money for saving my life," I pointed out.

"But he saved your life. With his own blood. Anyone else he would have just had Jerry toss the body into the Thames."

What a pleasant thought. 

Chapter 21

"Nathanial, we need to have a conversation."

I didn't bother to open my eyes. "What time is it, Francis?" 

He paused briefly, probably looking at his pocket watch. "A little after seven."

"Wake me up at ten," I said and smiled as Francis exhaled in annoyance.

"Nathanial..." he started.

I opened my eyes and sat up, immediately wincing with the sudden movement. "Nathan or Nate. For crying out loud, Francis, it's not that bloody hard. How would you like it if I called you Frank?"

Francis' eyes narrowed. "That would be... unwise."

"Then don't piss me off." I swung my legs off the bed and stood, causing more muscles to protest. I felt like I'd been hit with a car, and then backed over to make sure I got the point. 

"Feeling sore?" Francis asked and motioned for me to remove my t-shirt. He examined the bullet hole and ribs, ignoring the six dark swirling marks on my chest and ribs. "They're healed, almost to the point you'd never know you were shot. The deep gash above your eye has vanished. The ache you're feeling is the gargoyle venom and remains of the silver poisoning, they're leaving your system, but you'll feel stiff and achy for a few days."

Apparently the vampire blood wasn't a total miracle worker. Still, I couldn't help but be impressed. "You should bottle your blood and sell it, you'd make millions."

"And kill millions more," he said without missing a beat as he removed the gauze from my stomach. "Drinking any more than a fraction of vampire blood by someone who is not gravely injured will kill them. Painfully and slowly, and that's if the madness doesn't drive them to suicide first. Your magic stops most of the blood's adverse effects. It's lucky you were as hurt as you managed to get yourself, otherwise you'd still be nursing a bullet wound. Besides it's a one shot deal to humans, they can take it once and if it saves their life that's it. No second try."

"Why?"

"Anymore than one dose in a human will heal the wounds, but drive them insane." He started washing his hands in the nearby sink. "Basically, all the bad shit that could happen to a person who takes it
will
definitely happen if it's your second time."

"How do you know all this doctor stuff?"

"Laurel taught me." He motioned for me to replace my t-shirt. "She used to be a nurse and likes to keep up to date with modern medicine. She's probably better than most doctors."

"Where is Laurel? I wanted to thank her."

"Gone to sleep for the day, she had a long night." Francis walked over to a blue tea pot placed on the table next to the armchair and poured two cups of white tea. He stirred some honey into both and passed one to me. I took the hot china teacup in hand and hoped my days of passing out were firmly behind me. I didn't need the cost of a tea set added to my bill. Knowing Francis it was probably worth thousands and had belonged to Queen Victoria. 

I took in the aroma of the white tea and honey before taking a sip. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Why you got shot, and generally how much shit you've brought down on me by coming here."

I took another drink of my tea and started to tell Francis about the past few days, the job at Mars Warfare, the murder of Daniel and rescuing Dani. It took a while, but Francis never interrupted, not even a cough. He got up once to refill his cup, but that was the extent of his reaction to what he was being told. 

When I got to the meeting with Jenny and my slight brain spasm, he leaned closer, as if that was the really interesting part and then moved back when I recounted my escape.

"So you and this Jenny girl are lovers I assume," Francis said. As an opening gambit, it had style.

I had to smile at his lack of tact. "Yes, we did the dance of forbidden love. Why?"

"Did you have any visions or, as you put it, brain spasms, as you were mating?"

I shook my head and tried not to think about Francis' use of the word
mating
. "Only the one at the pub, although I had a strange dream last night. You think Jenny's a psychic?"

"There are several types of psychics. Some have convulsions when they see a vision. Some enter a trance-like state. Some even cause both themselves and the person they're viewing to go into that trance-like state. The one common denominator is that they need body contact, the more powerful the psychic the less contact they need. Did she have contact with you?"

I raised an eyebrow. 

"Other than the sex," Francis said impatiently.

"She touched my hand with her finger."

Francis chuckled at whatever it was he found amusing, I wasn't about to ask what it was. I was already sure I didn't care. "Psychics live a shortened life, even shorter than a human
normally
does. I've known many, and only a few live into their fifties, let alone beyond. And even those have to be the most powerful. I once met a psychic who could cause visions just by caressing your skin. She was sixty-three years old. How old is this Jenny girl?"

"Mid-twenties."

"In that case, unless she is the single most powerful psychic in a millennium, I would say it's a coincidence. Maybe she slipped you something in your drink."

"I got the drinks."

"The photos could have jarred something loose. But no matter, I'm more interested in this blood magic talk. When we spoke about possible causes for your memory loss I hadn't considered it. Mostly because I know little to nothing about it. Sorcerers keep the secrets of blood magic close to their hearts."

"What do those marks on my chest mean? Could they be part of the spell on me?"

Francis looked confused for a brief moment. "What marks?"

I lifted my t-shirt again and the six marks came into view once more. "These, what else am I talking about? You just examined me and they were there, you going blind in your old age?"

Francis walked over and lowered my hands gently. "Nathan, I don't see any marks.”

The news hit me like a freight train. I blinked in shock, my mouth refusing to work. When I finally learnt to speak again, I said, "I have six dark marks on me. They're always changing, each about the size of my fist. How can you have never seen them?"

"Has anyone, in the ten years you remember, ever asked you about them? Even once?"

"They're not always there," I said weakly. "They only come when I'm using magic, or if I think about them."

"No one has, have they?"

I shook my head. "What are they?"

"I don't know, Nathan. But I'll find out for you."

I laughed. "And how much will
this
favour cost me?"

"We'll make a deal. You don't pay a penny, not for my help or for the vial of blood. But in exchange you'll do certain jobs for me at a much reduced cost. You do that, and I'll help you with this in any way I can."

"And why would you do that?"

"If I involve myself in whatever crap you're in, that will use my time and resources. Favours might need to be called, and as information is power in my business, that could cost me in the long run. So instead of making you pay a cost, you'll help me in return. 

"And to answer your question, I'm going to help you because, despite myself, I like you and you need my help. But nothing's for free in this world, Nathan. This is about as good a deal as you'll ever get from me."

Having Francis' full help would certainly make my life easier. But the idea of working for him on a more official basis concerned me. In the long run, it wasn't like I had a whole lot of options. The mystery woman on the phone wasn't exactly in any hurry to tell me what was going on, and with no memory of whom any of the people trying to kill me were, I couldn't go straight to the source and end it all. 

In the end I had one choice. "Three," I said to Francis' obvious confusion. "I'll do three jobs, no pay, in exchange for your help and support. And I pick them. I'm not going to spend six months trying to infiltrate the mafia so I can steal a fifteenth century oil lamp."

Francis' smile reminded me of an Orca that's just found its next meal. "Deal. As of right now, I work for you. What do you need?"

Well, that stopped me in my tracks. What did I need? A missile launcher? Some sort of guide on how to kill a gargoyle? "Information," I said after a minute's silence. "I stole the Iliad for you. I want to see the people who wanted it."

"Out of the question."

"Francis, since I stole that book I've met a psychotic murderer called Achilles and been told that this whole mess started with King Priam. I don't think that job was a coincidence. Whoever came to you either knows what's going on, or they're neck deep involved. I need to see them. Preferably before the well-funded bastards after me get their wish."

Francis removed a pad of paper and a pen from his pocket and began to jot things down. "If I do this, you can never mention it to anyone. I can't have people know that I betrayed my clients."

"My lips are sealed."

He looked to be fighting something internally before finally nodding. "I'll see what I can do."

 "One last thing. Blood magic. I need to know how to get rid of whatever crap someone cast on me."

"I'll look into that too," he said. "Come with me." He led the way as we left the room and walked down a dark corridor, the tiny amount of lighting coming from fading bulbs in the ceiling. Eventually we came to his main office. The mute bodyguard was once again in his seat by the front entrance. He nodded a greeting at me as I entered. 

Francis ducked behind the counter and there was the click of a safe being opened. I didn't know why he would need a safe. The fact that somewhere in the darkness of the tunnels there was a pack of vampires was a pretty good security system.

He stood and placed a small red bag on the table. I picked it up and Francis vanished into the back of his office, returning a moment later with a sword cane, placing it on the counter. It was black with red slashes that gave the appearance of claw marks. The bottom half of the cane was covered in a single piece of steel. The handle was made of ivory, a deep red dragon sat on the tip. I opened the bag and removed the contents – a black Heckler and Koch USP. 

"I never noticed before," Francis said. "But don't you find it odd that someone gave you the exact same type of gun you were using the night someone fucked with your head?" He opened a green box behind him and retrieved my wallet, mobile, and the gun I'd been given a few days previously. 

I picked up both guns, they looked identical. "She was there," I said mostly to myself. "She had to have been if she knew the type of gun I used."

"So maybe she's not telling you everything you need to know." He thumbed the catch on the sword cane, and removed the rapier like blade from its home, passing it to me.

It felt a lot heavier than I'd have expected it to be. Francis had told me long ago that the blade had a high silver content. Despite the fact that it was one of the few things I had with me when I woke up a decade ago, I always felt strange holding it. "That dragon still reminds me of King Arthur," I said.

"No one in King Arthur's court has ever carried such a weapon. And I doubt they'd want to. Rapiers are a stabbing sword. You could do some damage with it, but it's not a good weapon to fight with in the long term." 

I replaced the sword in its scabbard. "Could be ceremonial."

"Maybe, but everything I know about it says that Arthur didn't use ceremonial swords such as these. He would have used
proper
swords."

 "I'd better go see Holly and Dani. Make sure they're okay and try to figure out our next move." I put on the holster and the newest USP, replacing my wallet and phone in my jean pockets.

Francis passed me an old army coat to wear and cover the gun, it was made of wool and weighed a ton, but it was better than being arrested. "There's a cab upstairs for you. Jerry called it." Francis turned to place the sword back where he'd retrieved it and a shout broke through the subway.

I darted out onto the platform in time to see Dani, wearing a set of red pyjamas and some white trainers, fly down the stairs, Jerry right behind her. She crashed into me, knocking me back, as giant sobs escaped her. "What happened?" I asked Jerry.

He shrugged. "No idea, she said she needed to see you. She was in this state. I figured as she was human, and carried no weapons, that she was of little threat."