Across London, he felt the Thames and all its tributaries stir in response to his anger. He might be the least and youngest of his father’s sons, but he was still a dragon of the royal house. With an uncoiling shove he thrust backwards, forcing the thug from his back and away, and pushed himself up, teeth bared in a snarl.
More bodies hit him and took him down, heavy hands pinning his wrists to the pavement. His claws left marks in it as he struggled for leverage. For the first time he felt a prickle of doubt. Perhaps it would be wiser to fully take on his true form, one that they could not possibly restrain. It would alert all London that a dragon walked in their midst, but if he should lose …
A hand snarled itself in his hair, pulling his head back, and he felt cold metal snap shut around his neck. And now abruptly there was the ferocious, electric tang of Fae magic in the air, locked around him, binding him. He cried out in sudden shock as the distant rivers faded and were gone from his senses, as his fingers, now purely human, scraped against the concrete.
‘That should do it.’ That cold voice was the first time that anyone had spoken during the whole attack, and it was the last thing Kai heard. There was one final blow to his head, and then he surrendered to unconsciousness.
CHAPTER ONE
The night before …
It was a pity about the poison in her wine glass, Irene reflected. The underground room was hot, and a glass of chilled wine would have been refreshing.
She hadn’t needed Kai’s murmur from behind her shoulder. She’d been watching the crow-masked man in the mirror. His real name was Charles Melancourt, and they’d both been hunting for the same book for the last few weeks. He was the agent for a Russian buyer. Irene was an agent for the Library. They’d both run into each other often enough while investigating the same sources, and he had certainly recognized her in spite of her mask, just as she had recognized him.
The bidding finished for the current item, a set of gold-plated dice with rubies as the points, and there was a gentle ripple of applause. Everyone was masked, even the waiters carrying round the trays of food and wine. This auction wasn’t exactly illegal, but it was certainly dubious. The patrons included eccentrics, the very rich and a large number of people who had lawyers just to prove how absolutely not guilty they were. (Of anything.) Ether-lamps burned on the walls, casting a white glare on the room. It made the beading on the expensive dresses and military decorations glitter as much as the items on auction. She’d recognized some of London’s Fae too, behind their masks. But Lord Silver, their unofficial leader, wasn’t present - a fact for which she was extremely grateful.
Irene had gained entrance with Vale’s help. It didn’t hurt to be a personal friend of London’s greatest detective. In return she’d promised to make sure that she and Kai were out of the place before midnight, before a scheduled police raid happened. A promise she intended to keep. She’d spent the last few months in this alternate world building a cover identity as a freelance translator, and having a criminal record would be inconvenient.
‘Next item,’ the auctioneer droned. ‘One copy of Abraham or “Bram” Stoker’s La Sorciere, based on the book of the same name by Jules Michelet. We are sure that our guests don’t need to be reminded that this book was banned by the British Government. And the Church denounced it on the grounds of public indecency and heresy. No doubt it’ll provide the buyer with something entertaining to read, ha-ha.’ Her laugh lacked anything resembling humour. ‘Sold as part of an anonymous estate. Bidding starts at one thousand pounds. Do I hear any bids?’
Irene raised her hand. So did Melancourt.
‘Lady in the black domino, one thousand pounds,’ the auctioneer intoned.
‘One thousand five hundred!’ Melancourt called out.
So he was going to go for big jumps, rather than take it up by stages. Fair enough. At least they seemed to be the only people interested in this lot. ‘Two thousand,’ Irene said clearly.
‘Two thousand five hundred!’ Melancourt declared.
That got a few whispers from the other bidders. The book was rare, but not hugely so. Certain museums had copies, so Irene was being comparatively virtuous in buying the tome at an underworld auction. She could have stolen it, after all. The thought made her smile. ‘Three thousand.’
‘Five thousand!’ The sudden jump in price made the room fall silent. People were looking at Irene to see what she would do.
Kai leaned over her shoulder. True to his cover as bodyguard, he’d been standing throughout, refusing food and drinks, and keeping watch on the carpet-bag with their assurance of payment. ‘We could let him win this, and then visit him later,’ he murmured.
‘Too risky,’ Irene whispered back. She picked up the glass of wine from the tray he was holding, raising it to her lips, and couldn’t mistake the sudden tension in Melancourt’s posture. Yes, this had been from him. She’d thought so.
‘Wine, boil,’ she murmured in the Language, and quickly set it down again as the glass heated up under her fingers. The wine was already bubbling, and it overflowed onto the tray, hissing and steaming as it evaporated. Kai’s hands tensed, but he held the tray steady.
The silence had deepened. Irene broke it. ‘Ten thousand,’ she said casually.
Melancourt brought his fist down on his thigh with a curse.
‘Do I hear any other bids?’ the auctioneer demanded, against a rising susurrus of whispers. ‘Ten thousand from the lady in the black domino, going once, going twice … sold! If you will come over to arrange payment with our staff, madam, thank you very much. The next item …’