Wraith(8)

‘They’ve already searched everything,’ Becky whispered. ‘The goblins went through it all.’

‘But you know where the real hiding places are.’ I looked into her eyes. ‘Am I right?’

She swallowed and nodded; she knew exactly what I was talking about. Everyone in Stirling with any sense had special nooks and crannies where important objects were concealed. It might be the family silver; it might be the last of their money or emergency rations that had to be squirrelled away. Whatever was kept there, you never showed it to anyone outside of the family. You never knew when even your best friends or kindest neighbours would destroy you in order to survive. There was a strong sense of community on these mean streets but desperation could drive anyone to insane lengths. We were only human after all. Most of us, anyway.

‘What are you going to do?’ Becky asked in a small voice.

I gave her a tight smile and steeled myself to reach out and ruffle her hair. Go me. I could touch someone twice in the same conversation without physically recoiling or throwing up when I had to. ‘I’m going to get ready.’

Becky clutched her neck. ‘Will she swing?’ she asked.

An image of the empty nooses up at Mercat Cross flashed into my mind. I swallowed and pushed it away. ‘Not if I can help it,’ I promised. I couldn’t say much else. To deny Becky’s question outright would be to lie.





Chapter Two


As soon as Becky disappeared to search her flat, I sat down and sent my consciousness back to my shadow. I prayed that nothing had changed and I was still shrouded in the same concealing darkness as before.

It took a moment or two for my senses to return fully but when they did I breathed out in silent relief. Other than a few more Kanji staff members, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere to serve the new VIP, everything was as it had been. Good. I had to vamoose and get my shadow back home before Becky returned.

I slipped round the long way, edging up the raised area towards the back and avoiding all the lighted tables. Tilly and the twins had been relegated to their original positions. Isabella, however, was now up here, her body facing in my direction and her expression animated. Two men were seated across from her. Although they were both turned away from me, the confident posture of the nearest one made it clear that this was the hooded man who’d entered earlier. I noted dark hair curling at the nape of his neck and the briefest flash of pointed ears. A Dark Elf.

For a moment I forgot my other woes and simply stared. Why here and why now? The trickle of dismay I felt at not being able to stick around to find out more was very real; this was valuable news indeed. While I considered, Isabella stood up and gracefully draped herself across the Dark Elf’s knee. One bejewelled hand reached round the back of his head, her fingers entwining in his hair.

I stared at the ease with which she initiated physical contact. It wasn’t love she felt; nobody fell in love that quickly, no matter what the storybooks and fairy tales might suggest. I imagined such feelings only grew over years of being together. Isabella Markbury was either overcome by lust or was pulling out all the stops to get the Dark Elf to save her from this mess in Stirling.

I watched the way her head tilted towards his and shivered. Was I jealous? Probably. Then I shook myself. Enough of this; I couldn’t abandon Becky’s mother – though I could perhaps kill two birds with one stone.

Reminding myself to breathe again, I slipped past the group and headed out of Kanji’s elegant exit. Instead of trailing through the city at street level, I flung myself across the rain-slicked rooftops. As a result, I made it back home in record time and slid past the three goblins who were stationed outside our block of flats. They were laughing and joking amongst themselves, totally indifferent to the chaos they’d caused by arresting Ange.

I scowled. The Filits had always been bastards, even before the siege. They’d been manageable bastards though, even if they kept a tighter rein on things and held to the letter of the law with more pedantic vigour than you’d find in other parts of Scotland. Most of them had possessed at least a semblance of a sense of humour and it had been possible to chat to them and pass the time of day. I even knew of a few women who’d had flings with the goblins; apparently they were very well-endowed. Now the lot of them were wankers. It might have been hunger. They got far better rations than we did but they still had to be suffering. Their behaviour might also be the result of downright nastiness. Whatever, these days the only good goblin was the one you didn’t have to see, speak to – or smell.

I flitted round the corner and bounced up the drainpipe to my open window. Wasting no more time, I flung my shadow back at my inert body. I allowed myself one small moment of happiness at feeling complete again then I got to it.

I retrieved my holster and sheathed knife from the battered suitcase underneath my bed and belted them round my hips. Both were just the right side of worn and shabby, giving the appearance that they were used regularly. In truth, I had more chance of stabbing out my own eye than stabbing an assailant, and the knife was more use for spreading butter than slicing flesh. I relied on my wraith form to do my dirty work but without it I needed to give the appearance that I was not to be messed with. Most of the time it worked.

I shrugged on my old leather jacket, because nothing suggests hardass quite like leather, and ran my fingers through my closely cropped hair. I’d love to have long, flowing tresses but long hair on a shadow would be too much of a giveaway. Not only was every other wraith I’d ever heard of male, but one loose shadow curl could draw someone’s attention to what wasn’t supposed to be there. More’s the pity.