Red Angel (14 page)

Once we’re inside D’Argneau’s sanctuary, he offers me a seat. I decline politely.

‘I’m not sure exactly why you’re here, Bo,’ he says, perching on the edge of his desk. ‘Client privilege…’

‘I’m not asking for state secrets, D’Argneau,’ I spit. ‘I want to know how you got hired and why you took the case.’

He sighs dramatically and runs a hand through his tawny hair, giving a good impression of someone under pressure. ‘If it was anyone else, I would ask you to leave.’

‘Give it up. You’re not fooling me for a second.’

His eyes meet mine then he grins and shrugs. ‘Fair enough.’ He opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a single white card, about A5 size. ‘Here.’ He throws it to me. ‘This was couriered to me at around one o’clock in the morning.’

I stiffen. By my reckoning, that was before O’Shea and I had entered the gift shop. I read the carefully inked words.

Two humans may be arrested tonight in the vicinity of the Renfrew mansion. Ensure their swift release and you will be rewarded.

‘That’s it?’

‘It was a simple matter to scan the police frequencies and find out what had happened.’ He looks at me pointedly. ‘I knew you were involved, of course.’

I shake my head in confusion. ‘Why would you care?’ I wave the card around. ‘This doesn’t mean anything at all.’

D’Argneau’s expression is patient. ‘Dear Bo. Do you mean to tell me that if you received a mysterious message in the middle of the night you would ignore it? A note like that would appeal to anyone.’ His eyes light up. ‘The mystery and drama of it all!’

‘It could have been a practical joke!’

He tuts. ‘The Renfrew mansion? After all that business with the ear? Even if it were a joke, do you think I’d go to sleep and forget about it? No go, Bo.’ He smirks. ‘If this Tobias Renfrew investigation is continuing, I want some of the action. Besides, my time was well spent.’

I stare at him suspiciously. ‘What do you mean?’

He grins, reaches for his briefcase and opens it up with a flourish. ‘My retainer.’

Three shiny gold bars nestle inside. D’Argneau picks one up. ‘You can hold it if you want to. It’s not as heavy as you’d think but I can assure you it’s the real thing.’

‘These came with the note?’

‘No. They arrived upon my return, once I’d secured Wyatt and Creed’s release.’ He winks at me. ‘Someone was paying close attention and it wasn’t only you.’

‘The courier…?’

‘He was questioned, naturally. He knew nothing. It was an anonymous drop, set up online.’ D’Argneau leans towards me, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. ‘I don’t know about you but I’m excited.’

I roll my eyes, even though part of me unwillingly agrees. ‘Why you?’ I demand.

He looks offended. ‘Why not me? I’m a good lawyer.’

‘No. There’s another reason.’ I think it over. I’m betting it has something to do with me and my association with him. I don’t need to tell him that though. ‘Why does Michael Montserrat seem to think there’s something going on between us?’ I enquire, still wondering what led to his pissed-off phone call last night.

‘Lord Montserrat believes we’re having a fling?’ D’Argneau looks pleased. ‘Interesting. It could work, you know. After all, we
almost
had a night of steamy passion. The Red Angel and the lawyer. It has a nice ring to it.’

‘We did not almost have a night of passion. It was almost a night of seedy stupidity. And,’ I enunciate, ‘the key word is
almost
.’ I look at Kimchi, who’s sniffing at the gold bars with interest. ‘Come on. We’re leaving.’

He barks in response. I straighten my back and point at D’Argneau. ‘If you get any more of these cards, you let me know.’

‘I don’t work for you, Bo. Unless you want to revisit the passion aspect…’

I snort loudly and stalk out.

*

I’m still thrumming with irritation when I walk back outside but I take the time to smile politely at the doorman who keeps well away from Kimchi. ‘If anyone gives you any trouble because of him,’ I say, ‘give me a ring.’ I throw him a New Order business card.

‘Uh, thanks,’ he stammers. ‘Your car is waiting at the side of the road.’

I frown at him. ‘Car?’ I look over and see a sleek, midnight-blue limousine less than twenty metres away. I bite my lip. This could be interesting.

I tug at Kimchi’s lead to stop him licking the doorman again and stroll over. My heart rate pick up but that’s definitely because I’m still angry at D’Argneau for getting in my way. Definitely.

I rap on the passenger window. It winds down smoothly and Michael’s dark, impassive face glances out at me. ‘Hey!’ I say brightly. ‘Are you still in a mood?’

His eyebrows fly up. ‘A mood? I’m not a teenager, Bo.’

‘Then what do you call the way you acted on the phone last night?’

‘So you’re allowed to blow hot and cold all the time but the moment I get annoyed, I’m immature?’

‘That’s not what I said.’ Not exactly.

‘Why are you here anyway? What does that lawyer have?’

I purse my lips. ‘A white card and three gold bars.’

Michael frowns but before he can ask what I mean there’s a shout from the other side of the street. ‘Ms Blackman! I want to talk to you!’

I realise with a sinking sensation that it’s Arbuckle. It’s obviously taken her all of two minutes to realise I’m not dropping the Tobias Renfrew case. Maybe crawling around the Renfrew mansion and getting half of London’s police force to meet me there gave the game away.

‘Actually,’ I say to Michael, making a quick decision, ‘if you give me a lift, I’ll explain everything.’

‘Someone you’re trying to avoid?’ he asks, less irritated now.

‘You could say that.’

He scans my face. I wish I knew what he’s thinking. ‘Fine,’ he answers slowly, ‘but you need to kiss me first.’

I blink. ‘Eh?’

‘There are a few cameras around, if you hadn’t noticed. Half the world thinks you have a thing with Medici. We need to disabuse them of that notion.’

Arbuckle is weaving across the road. Damn it. ‘Make it quick,’ I mutter, bending my head down.

Even though I’m expecting it, the kiss still takes me by surprise. Michael’s hand snakes round my neck and his mouth is hard and possessive. There’s a smattering of flashes from behind as the followers and journalists snap away gleefully. I barely notice them. I can taste an odd mixture of salty blood and heady masculinity from Michael’s tongue and there’s a flutter deep in the pit of my stomach. Alright, less my stomach and more my loins. I reach in, one hand grazing the stubble on his cheek. Why does this have to feel so damn good?

‘Ms Blackman!’ Colonel Arbuckle says from a few feet away.

I growl, a strange rumbling sound deep in my throat. Michael pulls away and the car door opens. I get in.

‘Ms Blackman!’

The door closes behind me. Michael watches me with an unfathomable expression on his face. Arbuckle raps loudly on the window but we ignore her as the car moves off. Michael’s fingers twitch an inch away from mine. ‘Who was that?’

I swallow, trying to get my pulse under control. ‘Army.’

‘Let me guess,’ he says drily. ‘Tobias Renfrew.’

‘How did you know?’

He laughs. ‘It would hardly take a genius, Bo. I knew you’d go after him sooner or later. He has to be mixed up in this ear business. He was originally a military man too. Unless you’ve decided to sign up, I can’t think of any other reason why the army would bother with you.’

‘You don’t think I’m worth bothering with?’ I hate the fact that my voice still sounds breathy.

He gives a crooked smile. ‘Oh, I didn’t say that.’ He raises his hand and brushes a loose strand of hair away from my face. ‘Now, tell me what the fuck is going on with D’Argneau.’

His abrupt change in tone takes me aback. Still unsure why he’s so pissed off about the lawyer, I explain what happened last night. His eyes spark. ‘You keep forgetting that you’re still a fledgling vampire. You need to take more care. If you’re caught outside when the sun rises…’

I hold up my hand. ‘I know, I know.’

He leans forward. ‘That story doesn’t explain why you were out with him the other night.’

‘What do you mean?’

He sighs, reaches into a folder and slides out a glossy magazine. The pages are twisted and ripped as if Kimchi had gotten hold of it and chewed it up. Michael flicks to the centre pages and points. ‘There,’ he says flatly.

I glance down. There’s a full-page photo of D’Argneau and me. His hand rests on my shoulder and he’s licking his lips suggestively. I groan inwardly. It’s one of the selfies from the bar. The only way the magazine could have got this is if D’Argneau himself gave it to them. Prick. I wish I’d known about it half an hour ago when I confronted him.

‘It’s nothing,’ I say. ‘I met him in a pub to see if he could help me get hold of a time bubble. He couldn’t.’

Michael scans my face. Eventually he nods. ‘While we continue our relationship,’ he begins.

‘Such as it is.’

‘Such as it is,’ he nods, although I see a faint tightening around his mouth, ‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t see him. It will only muddy the waters. Things are bad enough after Medici’s little display.’

I don’t want to see D’Argneau at all but I might be forced to. ‘Nothing’s going on between us, it’s business. I can’t promise I won’t meet him again. Whoever is pulling the strings of those bastards from last night has involved him.’

Michael is silent for a moment then he lifts his chin. ‘Fine. But at least don’t meet him alone. Take O’Shea or Connor with you.’

I want to tell him he has no right to be jealous – and certainly not of bloody D’Argneau – but I’m reminded of how I felt at the restaurant when I learned that Michael had taken other dates there. I had no right to be jealous either. ‘OK,’ I say softly. ‘That much I can do.’

‘Thank you.’

We look at each other. The silence stretches out between us. Prickles dance across my skin. I drop my gaze. ‘Are we going on another date now?’ I finally ask.

‘Would you like to?’

I would. I bite my lip and nod. Unfortunately at that moment the car stops and the driver, a Montserrat vampire I recognise from my time with the Family, opens the divide with an apologetic look. ‘I’m sorry, Lord Montserrat. There’s a call coming in.’

‘Tell them I’m busy.’

‘It’s Ursus. He says it’s urgent.’

Michael curses and takes the phone. I turn away to give him some privacy and look out of the window but as he talks, he reaches out for my hand and squeezes it.

When he hangs up, he sighs. ‘I’m sorry. We need to take a rain check.’

I push away my disappointment. ‘Anything I can help with?’

‘No, it’s better if I deal with this alone. Medici has turned up on Gully’s doorstep and is demanding all the Family Heads meet for a vote on contacting the Kakos daemons to see if they’d like to work with us.’

My mind flies to X and I gulp. ‘Kakos daemons don’t work with anyone else.’

‘Not to mention that they’re bloodthirsty monsters who slaughter everyone they come across.’ He flashes me a grin. ‘Present company excluded of course.’

I try to smile. I don’t do a very good job.

‘No,’ Michael continues, ‘Medici is trying to cause more problems. There are rumours that Lord Stuart used to have a business agreement with a Kakos daemon. It’s all nonsense but he’ll use it drive a wedge between us.’

‘He probably doesn’t like that the four other Families are working together more closely than they ever have before,’ I murmur, wondering whether the information about Stuart’s ‘agreement’ is true.

‘Probably,’ he agrees. ‘Shall I drop you back at New Order?’

‘Yeah, I guess.’ No doubt my grandfather will have heard about last night’s antics and will be waiting to scold me. Frankly, it’s a miracle he didn’t barge into my flat again to do just that; I probably only escaped because I was woken up so early. As long as he doesn’t find out about my visit to Brigstone, I’ll probably survive.

‘What in the world were you thinking of, Bo?’ my grandfather bawls. ‘Storming an army base? It’s … it’s…’

I’ve never seen him lost for words before. ‘Preposterous?’ I ask, squirming.

‘Exactly!’

The Stuart, Gully and Bancroft representatives depart hastily. Even Arzo seems to have vanished. The only people who remain in the office are Connor, Matt and, irritatingly, Dahlia.

‘Did O’Shea grass me up?’

‘That poor excuse for a daemon? No, he did not.’

I frown. ‘Then who?’

My grandfather marches to his office door and pushes it open. Sitting primly inside, with the damn cat on her lap, is Colonel Arbuckle. My stomach sinks.

‘Oh.’

‘That’s all you have to say? Oh?’

I sigh and meet Arbuckle’s eyes. ‘I thought you didn’t want our paths to cross again.’

‘And I thought you were going to leave this Tobias Renfrew business alone,’ she says.

‘You’re chasing ghosts,’ my grandfather thunders. ‘The man is dead.’

Considering he was already aware of my investigation into the daemon billionaire, his anger is too obvious. The canny bastard is playing up for Arbuckle’s benefit. He’s clearly not happy that I breached Brigstone but the old man is more on my side than hers. The knowledge is remarkably satisfying.

‘I’m not so sure,’ I say calmly, raising my eyebrows at the colonel.

‘How much proof do you require, Ms Blackman?’

I tilt my chin. ‘Your secret photo was staged.’

She seems taken aback. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

I watch her carefully. Arbuckle is far too young to have been involved in Renfrew’s disappearance. She’s probably as much in the dark as the rest of us. ‘He was left handed,’ I tell her.

‘So?’ she sneers.

I wait. It takes a second or two for her face to drop. ‘There you go.’ I fold my arms.

My grandfather looks from her to me. ‘Would you like to explain?’

I shrug. ‘I can’t. It’s classified.’

Arbuckle hisses in annoyance. ‘We have a file,’ she says. ‘And a photo of Renfrew’s corpse.’

Dahlia gasps audibly.

‘Supposed photo,’ I remark, enjoying the fact that everyone in the room is sitting up straighter.

Arbuckle stands up, ignoring my grandfather’s cat that takes umbrage at being dumped unceremoniously onto the floor and swipes at her leg. ‘I will look into this further,’ she says stiffly, then stalks out.

My grandfather’s expression remains impassive until it’s clear she’s not coming back. Then he looks at me approvingly. ‘Well, well, well. You may have uncovered a decades-old conspiracy. There was never anything about a photograph of Renfrew’s corpse in MI7’s files.’

‘I don’t get it,’ Connor says slowly. ‘The army have a fake photo of Tobias Renfrew’s death? But if they faked it, then why didn’t they release it for the world to see?’

‘I have no idea,’ I answer. ‘It might have been Renfrew’s body in the picture, I couldn’t tell for sure. If it is him, I believe the army killed him. If it isn’t him, goodness only knows what they were hoping to achieve.’

‘It’s not New Order’s remit to investigate daemons,’ my grandfather says. ‘But I think in this case we can make an exception.’

I can’t keep the beaming smile off my face. ‘Brilliant.’

He jabs a finger at me. ‘If I hear you’ve been sneaking onto any more army properties, however, I’ll lock you up myself and throw away the key.’

‘It was a one-time thing,’ I say absently.

‘What can we do?’ Everyone is eager to get involved.

I consider. ‘I want to check up on the two daemon killers from last night. They might have something to do with all this and they might not but, either way, I’m not letting them get off scot free. It might be helpful to bring Connor along as a fresh set of eyes.’

Matt looks crestfallen. ‘Not me?’

I look from him to Dahlia. ‘I have some books I’d like the two of you to look at.’

‘Books? But that’s so boring!’ he complains.

‘It’s necessary,’ I say briskly.

‘What’s the daemon going to be doing?’ my grandfather asks.

‘O’Shea?’ I sneak a glance at Connor who simply smiles. ‘I’ll call him. He can come along to Creed and Wyatt’s with us. Matt, come upstairs and help me collect the books, please.’

He mutters under his breath and I grin at him. I’m still convinced that the enhancement spell that warped his mind is starting to lose its effect even though his feet are already leading him out of the room. I follow quickly.

Once we’re in my flat upstairs – and the door is safely closed ‒ I grab the pile of Renfrew-related books from the gift shop and hand them over to him. ‘This is important,’ I say in an undertone. ‘Dahlia was in the room so I can’t stop her getting involved, much as I might wish otherwise. I trust you and I don’t trust her. You need to cross-reference the material in these books to see if there’s anything new we can learn about Renfrew. You also need to cross-reference what Dahlia’s doing.’

‘Why can’t you trust her?’ Matt asks, confused. ‘I like her.’

‘She might be working for Medici,’ I say, pointing out the obvious.

He mulls it over. ‘So I’ll be like a super spy, will I?’

‘Exactly. That’s why I need you here instead of out in the field.’

‘OK, Bo. I can do this.’

I pat him on the shoulder. ‘You’re the best, Matt.’

There’s a knock on the door. Leaving Matt to carry the books, I open it half an inch. It’s Drechlin. ‘I have your dog,’ he tells me, with a curl to his lips.

I open the door further. Kimchi leaps forward, bowling me over. I receive several slobbering licks to the face. ‘Thanks,’ I say, doing what I can to keep my face away from Kimchi’s lolling tongue.

‘You should take better care of him,’ Drechlin sniffs. ‘This came for you too. Some courier who was too lazy to climb the stairs.’

I freeze. Kimchi’s blocking my view but I have a sudden feeling that I know exactly what Drechlin is holding. In his hands there’s a single white card. There’s not even an envelope. I gently push the dog out of the way.

‘When?’ I demand. ‘When did it arrive?’

He shrugs. ‘About half an hour ago.’

I grind my teeth. Damn it. I’d liked to have talked to that courier. I eye the card as if it’s a snake. Why now, I wonder?

I wait for Drechlin to hand it over, but he doesn’t seem particularly keen. ‘There are too many of you bloodguzzlers now,’ he says. ‘It’s a fire hazard.’

I’m not sure what his beef is; since the crowd of journalists left the street outside, Drechlin’s little dentistry business has been teeming with customers hoping to catch a glimpse of the Red Angel while getting their fillings done.

‘I’m sure we meet all the regulations.’ At least I’m sure Arzo and my grandfather have covered that aspect of our tenancy.

‘I could complain, you know.’

I look at him, exasperated. He’s complained about us often enough in the past. I’m not sure what’s stopping him this time. ‘That’s your prerogative, Dr Drechlin.’

He seems to be waiting for something but I have no idea what. When he realises I’m not going to say anything else, he exhales. ‘I could be persuaded to stay quiet.’

My nose wrinkles. Does he want a bribe?

He shuffles forward. ‘It must be difficult keeping your, uh, fangs clean. A vampire’s teeth are vital.’

‘You are suggesting I come in for a check-up,’ I say, suddenly understanding. ‘Perhaps have my photo taken while I’m there.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘You’re usually closed by the time I’m up and about.’

He smiles, revealing his own blindingly white teeth. ‘I can make an exception. In the interests of being neighbourly.’

I manage not to roll my eyes. ‘How about next week then? Monday? Around eight?’

‘I suppose I can do that.’

I lean forward and take the card from him. ‘I’ll see you then,’ I say firmly, waving him outside. Wonders will never cease.

‘I thought he didn’t like vampires,’ Matt says. ‘I tried to get him to clean my teeth a few weeks ago and he refused.’

‘He wants to jump on the fame bandwagon.’ My fingers tighten around the card. With my heart in my mouth, I flip it over. The handwriting is exactly the same as it was on D’Argneau’s missive. Even the colour of the ink is the same.

Leave Creed and Wyatt alone. They’re a dead end.

So … I reckon I’m on the right track with those two after all.

‘I’ve got to run, Matt,’ I tell him. ‘Make sure you keep an eye on Dahlia.’

I leap out the door with Kimchi at my heels. Speeding into the office downstairs, I find my grandfather in his chair. I fling the card down in front of him. ‘Look!’ I say, shivering with excitement.

He reads the card. ‘Real ink,’ he murmurs. ‘You don’t see that often these days.’

‘Real ink?’ I splutter. ‘That’s all you can say?’

‘It’s certainly interesting,’ he says.

Dahlia walks in and places a cup of tea on a delicate, flowered china saucer in front of him. She looks at the card. ‘Who’s that from?’ she asks.

‘The tooth fairy,’ I answer shortly. Her mouth tightens. Keep your enemies close, Bo, I remind myself. ‘By the way,’ I add, ‘I meant to thank you for keeping those soldiers from tracking me. You did a good job.’

A grateful smile spreads across her face. ‘Thank you!’

‘You’re welcome.’ I try not to soften towards her; she can’t be trusted, no matter how nice she acts in person. ‘Connor and I are leaving now.’

‘Remember the police are watching them too, Bo,’ my grandfather warns. ‘Don’t do anything foolhardy.’

I scoff. ‘As if.’

*

‘I have a location for Creed,’ Connor informs me, ‘but I’ve not been able to find much on Wyatt. His last known address was Manchester.’

‘Good work!’ I grin. ‘Where are we heading?’

‘Kensington.’

I’m slightly taken aback. It’s a pricey area more suited to the London contingent of large bank accounts and four-wheel drives. ‘You’re sure?’

He nods. ‘It’s an unusual name. I’m certain that’s our guy.’

I wonder how Creed’s neighbours are coping with a police presence in their leafy street. I hope that whoever’s been assigned to the stake-out is discreet. My alleged killers will already be on edge after their arrest. I need them relaxed and unworried – then they’ll be more likely to screw up.

‘Can you let O’Shea know?’ I ask.

‘Already have,’ he says cheerily.

There’s nothing in his tone to suggest he thinks of the daemon as any more than an occasional colleague. I’m tempted to ask him about his personal inclinations but I’m mindful of O’Shea’s request not to.

I settle for bland niceties instead. ‘O’Shea seems to be turning over a new leaf. He’s been helping us out a lot. He’s even got himself a gig as a mystery shopper.’

‘I hope he’s not working too hard,’ Connor says. ‘He needs to give himself time to go to the gym and keep that hard daemon body all buff and muscular.’ My mouth drops slightly. Connor winks at me. ‘I’m not stupid, Bo. I know what he wants from me.’

‘And,’ I ask slowly, ‘does it offend you?’

‘Not in the slightest. I have eclectic tastes.’ The corner of his mouth lifts up in a mischievous smile. ‘Humans. Vampires. Daemons.’

‘Men?’

‘And women. Devlin though…’ he pauses. ‘There’s something special about him.’

This is a brand new Connor that I’m seeing. There’s a glimmer in his eyes. If O’Shea is acting uncharacteristically shy around the red-haired human, then Connor is doing the complete opposite. ‘You seem very self-assured,’ I tell him. ‘Unusually so.’

‘I don’t understand why people get so nervous about relationships. There are some things in this world that it makes sense to be scared of. Your grandfather, for one. His cat for another. Hybrid witches. Kakos daemons.’ He sneaks a quick glance. ‘You.’

‘Me? I’m not scary!’

‘You’re the Red Angel, Bo. You’re bloody terrifying.’ He puts his hands in his pockets. ‘Being frightened of those things is logical. Being frightened of love? That’s daft.’

I shake my head fervently. ‘Love is the scariest thing there is. You’re more likely to be hurt when you love someone. There are complications and problems and arguments about toilet seats.’ I think about Michael. ‘Unnecessary jealousy.’

Connor smiles. ‘You’re not scared of falling in love. You’re scared of being hurt.’ His eyes grow serious. ‘But believe me, Bo, it’s much scarier to walk away from love than it is to experience it.’

‘You’re not in love with O’Shea, are you?’ I ask suspiciously.

He laughs. ‘No. Not yet anyway. Maybe I never will be. I mean love in the sense of the possibility of the word and all its meanings. I hoped that Devlin was going to see that too but I think I need to give him a nudge first. He’s quite a lot like you. That’s probably why you two get on so well.’