Vowed (23 page)

I think about what Aunt Letty said: that we would know if it was Lilith. The
world
would know. It puts my mind at ease that whatever we’re dealing with here is not Lilith related.
It’s too quiet, too small, too below the radar.

It’s just before dawn and I’m sitting at the desk in my tiny room at the top of the house. As I look out over the rooftops of Camden, I wonder exactly what we’re dealing
with.

My dream of Thorn had me sitting up in bed, gasping, a scream hovering on my lips, my heart pounding. Unable to get back to sleep, I’m worrying at the edges of my research like an angry
but tired terrier. The cup of coffee next to my paperwork has gone cold and I lean back in my chair, stretching and yawning, hearing my shoulders click.

My phone buzzes next to me and I look down to see a text from Dante.

Can’t sleep. Worried about you.

Aw, isn’t that nice? I text back:
I’m okay. It was a long day yesterday. Go back to bed.

Why aren’t you asleep?
He sends back, super fast.

Bad dreams. Also, this Spook called Dante keeps texting me. I think he fancies me or something.
I grin as I type it out, knowing it will embarrass him.

Ha, funny girl. I’ll pick you up at 7.

Are you going to feed me?

It seems it’s all we do. Talk and eat.

I’m not a complicated girl. :-D

There is more to life than . . . no, you’re right. I need food. See you at 7.

I put my phone on charge and flick through Andrew Lang’s
Red Fairy Book
and reread the Ratcatcher’s story. The story of the Pied Piper of Hamelin is so well known: a group
of elders reneged on a deal they made with the piper to rid their town of rats; he took his revenge by leading the town’s children away, into a mountain, never to be seen again. There were
rumours, about a hundred years after the tragic events in Hamelin, that travellers came across German-speaking people living in Transylvania. There was no clear history to explain how they actually
came to be living there, and rumours circulated that they were descendants of Hamelin’s stolen children.

How that translates into the here and now, I’m not sure.

I set the books aside and stretch again. I need a run and some exercise, I decide. I feel slow and ungainly and I can’t remember the last time I had a decent workout. Running from a pack
of slavering dogs in your dreams doesn’t count.

I pull on my jogging shorts, hoodie and trainers and slink out of the house, after strapping my baton to my forearm.

The streets are deserted, with only the occasional car driving by. The bakery on the corner has its lights off but I can see Carmel and her husband Tony in the back, shaping loaves. They wave as
they recognize me and I wave back. There are delivery men dropping off newspapers and milk and some of them banter words back and forth with one another as I run by.

As I run, calmed by the rhythmic slap of my feet on the pavement, my thoughts turn back to the dreams I’ve been waking from in a tangle of damp sheets. I’ve never really had vivid
dreams before. Or, rather, been someone who remembers them after waking. I have the occasional nightmare that leaves me feeling weird and uncomfortable afterwards. And even, once, a devastatingly
sexy dream about my friend Karina’s brother, Udo, where my cheeks flamed just remembering it.

But last night’s dream felt real, even in the cold light of day, as they say. It had been so vivid, the details so intense. I can still feel the air in the Otherwhere rush against my skin,
and hear the sound of dogs racing behind me. I remember the hesitant way Thorn reached out to me at first.

Him kissing me. I close my eyes for a second, relishing how it felt. The taste of him, the feel of him as he pressed me against him. Oh my God, I am becoming insane and falling for a guy in my
dreams. He is real – somewhere – but so far out of my reach physically and emotionally. I’d have more luck falling in love with a Hollywood movie star. I open my eyes and see a
homeless guy watching me from his warm nook in a shop doorway. He gives me a shaky smile and a thumbs-up and I return the gesture before running past him into the morning.

The path along the canal is deserted. A soft mist rises from above the water and tangles around my feet. It feels great being able to run and being on the move. I pass a few other joggers and we
nod at one another. An elderly gentleman is walking his tiny Jack Russell, which clearly is under the impression it’s a Great Dane because it bristles at me as I step off the path to make way
for them. The sky above me remains grey with no sign of the sun raising its head, apart from a slight lightening in the east. As I near the top of Regent’s Park, the traffic’s increased
enough to make jogging unpleasant. I turn and head back home the way I came, this time on the other side of the canal.

I’m about halfway when I sense movement behind me. Instinct and Jamie’s training makes me duck and swerve just in time and someone careers into me. Since my centre of gravity is
lower than theirs, I am only knocked a few paces sideways. A muttered curse is followed by a whopping splash, as whoever it is lands in the canal with little grace.

‘Idiot!’ I hear someone snarl just as a punch takes me in the ribs, close to where the drug dealer’s bruise is slowly trying to heal.

I stagger back in shock and spin to face my attacker. He’s a big guy, dressed in a tracksuit and sneakers. I passed him and his partner, the guy now swimming in the canal, on the other
bank. They’d even smiled at me.

The utter bastards. If they thought I was some kind of victim, they had another thing coming. I flick my wrist and the baton slaps into my palm.

‘What the hell?’ I say, talking to the big guy. ‘What do you want?’

‘To smash your pretty little face, love,’ he replies, lunging for me again. ‘You’re sticking your nose in where it don’t belong.’

I sway out of his way and bring the baton down against the side of his knee. He lets out a yelp and I spin out of reach, keeping an eye on the other guy, who’s trying to climb out of the
canal. There’s movement in the water behind him as a smooth dark back crests out of the water and I hurriedly move away from the edge, not liking where this is going.

A black shape rises from the canal, water sliding off its steaming flanks. It moves swiftly through the water towards the guy, who must sense something behind him because he turns to look over
his shoulder. His mouth opens in shock but no scream comes.

The pookah lunges at him, long white teeth distending from a large strong jaw, clamping firmly down on his shoulder and lifting him away from the edge of the canal where he was trying to clamber
back onto the walkway. The man lets out a shriek – cut short as the pookah tosses its head, jerking him up and down like a ragdoll, or as a crocodile would treat its catch. It then sinks
beneath the surface, taking the thrashing man with it.

‘What the hell?’ My guy stares at me in horror, then at the restless water of the canal. ‘What—? Did you see?’ He runs to stand at the edge, his hands going up to
the sides of his head, the universal WTF gesture people display when confronted with the impossible. ‘What is a pookah doing here?’ He swings back to me. ‘All of this is your
fault, you stupid girl. Look what you just did!’

‘Who sent you?’ I ask him warily, keeping my distance.

He is completely distracted by the disappearance of his friend. I would be too. That pookah is one of the largest I’ve ever seen and it looked quite pissed off. Also, hungry.

‘I’m talking to you, mate. Who sent you?’

‘How do
you
command a pookah?’ The guy demands of me. ‘I have never seen one come to the defence of a human. What did you do? Who did you swear fealty to,
Blackhart?’

The way he pronounces ‘Blackhart’ makes me laugh openly. It sounds like a swear word, and I like it. I’m as shocked as he is by the turn of events but, really, he is just
bleating now. And if he thinks I have some kind of control over what that pookah in the canal did, well, that’s okay by me.

‘I’m running out of time.’ I take a step closer and swipe at him with the baton again and he yelps, jumping out of the way. ‘Who sent you?’

‘No one you’d know, but listen closely. You’re being warned to stay away from the children and the estate. This has nothing to do with you, regardless of what
she
made
you promise. This is older than even Suola.’

Interesting. So he knows I’ve been employed by Suola to find the missing kids. That means he has to be working for the person who stole them.

‘Why are you even coming to me?’ I counter, pursuing him as he keeps backing up. ‘If Suola tells me to stop investigating the case, I’ll stop. All you need to do is
convince her.’

His face twists in a grimace of distaste. ‘I don’t speak to her kind. But know this, Blackhart, we know where you live, who your friends are.’

My chin lifts. ‘You’re threatening my friends and my family now? You utter snivelling coward. Tell this to whoever sent you. I vow to do unimaginable damage to anyone who lays a
finger on any of my friends or family – because of a job I have been
legally
employed to do.’

The sound of sirens had never been this welcome and I try not to show relief. Maybe someone saw us fighting on the towpath, maybe not, but it makes my attacker less likely to stick around.

The guy’s face, already rather red, turns florid and he scowls at me. ‘They said you had a mouth on you. Asking too many questions, interfering.’ He’s focused on me
again. ‘They want you to stop. This isn’t going away and nothing you or your family does will make it go away.’

I keep my arms wide in invitation as I take a few steps back. ‘Come on. Teach me a lesson.’

He’s fast for a big guy and has obviously had some boxing training. He lands another blow that glances off as I turn at the last minute. It still hurts and I exhale sharply as pain flares
through me but it passes quickly and I land my own punch to his throat. Not a move of which Jamie would be proud, because it’s not exactly sporting, but this guy is far bigger than me. If he
gets hold of me properly, I will land in hospital with broken bones.

He staggers back and I follow him closely, laying in with my baton. The folds of his tracksuit catch many of the blows, as it hangs loosely off him, but enough of them land and hurt. He howls in
annoyance, grabbing me around the throat, then starts squeezing.

I’m a strong girl, but even I can’t go one on one against an adult man trying to choke the life out of me. I lift my hand and concentrate hard on my magic, forming a small intense
white ball of light in my palm. It takes longer than I would like but as soon as I feel the light against my skin I thrust my hand into the guy’s face. He screams in shock at the bright light
and drops me. As he lets go, I drop to my knees and punch him hard on the inside of the leg and he goes down onto his knees, his hands protectively cupping his eyes where my magic’s clinging
to his face, blinding him. I jump up and deliver a satisfying knee to his jaw, my breath coming fast.

The sirens are closer now, startling me into running, and I leave my injured attacker behind.

I’m shaking so much that I spill my coffee down my front when I turn away from the counter. Kyle frowns at me over his bowl of Cheerios.

‘You okay?’ he asks through a mouthful.

‘Just angry,’ I say, joining him at the table, ‘and annoyed. It’s the second time now someone’s sent people to pounce on me, and this time round I’ve not even
done anything.’

‘And you’re not hurt? Cut or bleeding?’

I shake my head and lift up my shirt to examine my ribs. Why do people keep punching me in the ribs? I suppose it’s better than the face, but still, my poor ribs are a kaleidoscope of sore
muscles and bruises. ‘Just a bit bruised. Won’t be wearing my bikini any time soon.’

Kyle sucks in the air between his teeth when he sees my ribs. ‘Jesus, Kit. How big was this guy?’

‘Not that big, maybe a bit smaller than Jamie.’ I wave my hand. ‘I’m okay. Nothing’s broken, I swear. I just haven’t recovered from the other beating I had,
oh, the other night.’

‘And it’s definitely about the disappearances and not Glow?’

‘Warned me to stay away from the estate and the missing kids investigation, and I was told to stop sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. Definitely about the
disappearances.’

‘And they were human?’

I shrug. ‘They looked human. One was dragged into the canal by a pookah so, you know, things could have gone worse for me.’

‘We have to tell my dad,’ he says looking worried. ‘He might have to talk to Suola about what happened.’

I roll my eyes. ‘And what will he say? Please spread the word that whoever it is stealing the kids can’t pick on Kit Blackhart, cos she’ll cry you a river?’

‘Did you cry?’

‘Shut up, Kyle.’

He smirks at me and drinks his tea. I lift my cup and grimace at the pull against my ribs. I spot Kyle watching me. ‘What?’

‘Why are you ignoring Aiden?’

I pull a face. ‘Not you too! I spoke to him yesterday. I’m not ignoring him. He’s just not been around.’

Kyle picks up his phone, a soft sleek thing that looks as if it could do the dishes, the laundry and arrange for your house to be cleaned at the same time, and waves it at me. ‘You can
always call him, you know. Keep him up to date with how things are going.’

‘When did he become my keeper?’ I counter. ‘He’s a friend, not a partner, or my minder.’

‘My dad didn’t want you to tackle this case by yourself, Kit. He said to keep Aiden close.’

I push away from the table. ‘Look, I’m my own person, Kyle. I understand your dad’s worried about the Spook and the case, but I’m sure I can handle the rest of this. I
don’t need Aiden to babysit me.’

‘You really have become such a brat,’ Kyle mutters as I stalk out of the kitchen. ‘You used to be my favourite!’ he calls after me as I climb the stairs to go and have a
shower.

The weather outside is one hundred per cent autumn, marching into winter. I choose a pair of skinny jeans, my modified calf-high Docs and various layers of long-sleeved
T-shirts to keep me warm. With my leather jacket over this, I should be snug enough. I find a soft fabric scarf I’ve inherited from Megan and wrap that around my neck. I stuff my fingerless
gloves into my pocket and slide my favourite knife into the sheath in my boot. I dither about the baton but decide that today I’m going to try not to get into any fights. I can barely move
without wincing and I deserve a day of not being punched and stabbed. My knife will have to do. I suspect that Jamie would be a tiny bit disappointed in me but, you know, he’s not around so
I’ll just have to cope.