CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Time Passes

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

About the Author

Also by Richard Amos

Copyright © 2020 Richard Amos

All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Cover by Vanesa Garkova

ONE

JAKE

The glass bunny stared up with me with its big obsidian eyes, cradled in the arms of Norah Davis.

I got the sense of one evil bloody soul inside that transparent body.

“I’m so grateful for all you’ve done,” Norah praised in Dutch. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if my poor Shayla had died.”

Shayla. The bunny who’d fallen into a pod—creepy, colourful blobs of scary energy that’d infected the world and could, well, make a once fluffy white bunny turn into glass.

Not only was the bunny freaking me out with its twitching nose and devil stare, I was also freezing my bollocks off.

Some people say it’s too cold to snow. I didn’t believe that, and I could feel snow in the air. Yeah, sometimes I was a walking meteorological device. The clouds in the dark sky looked orangey and gray, ready to send down some of the white stuff.

How much longer did I have to stand here and listen? At least we were in a quiet street called Jacob Van Lennepstraat. Thank God people were indoors, avoiding the cold.

Dean was back home with our daughter while I sorted this mess out.

Norah was a bunny obsessive. I hated the whole cat lady thing, but she was a bunny lady. There were like twenty of them living in her house, running free, in all colours and degrees of ear-floppiness. Can’t say I’m a big fan of rabbits. Traumatic experience from my childhood. Me and my sister Jessica had been given a gray bunny with pink eyes by our mum and dad. Man, we’d been so overjoyed and had given her a name we’d both insisted she was addressed by in full: Rachel Jade Destiny Margaret Ruby Winter.

Mum had tried to make us go with Hoppy. We’d laughed in her face.

Lovely Rachel Jade Destiny Margaret Ruby Winter and her skippy ways, living in her hutch outside, coming out for cuddles and a run around the garden. At least, that’d been the dream.

The reality had been savage.

The demon bunny of my childhood had terrorised my mum when she’d tried to clean her hutch—heavy-duty gardening gloves had been needed. The fucker always lunged out of the dark like some feral beast, tearing into the glove. Someone told us to get a Guinea pig because she’d have a friend and that would calm her down.

We’d found the poor Guinea pig, Sparkle, all over the hutch the next day, an eyeball resting against the mesh being the first thing I’d seen. I’ll never forget it.

You couldn’t let the devil bunny out. No way! The one time we did, she’d escaped, got into a neighbour’s garden and killed a cat. Actually killed a cat! Then she’d managed to get into another rabbit hutch and shagged the male bunny living there. She didn’t kill him, amazingly.

It hadn’t taken Dad long to tell us she’d been set free into the wild one day. Which probably meant him and Mum and destroyed her in some devil bunny slaying ritual, then salted the earth afterwards. The crazy hopper needed it!

So yeah, not a big fan. And I hated the way they stared, like they were sizing you up.

“She is such a character,” Norah continued waffling. “You’ll have to come and see her in action. She’s so funny.”

I’d seen enough of Norah’s damn house of bunnies. Like fuck was I stepping foot in there again.

“Yeah, that’ll be great.” Always had to go for some fake politeness.

I picked up the pet carrier I’d stored Shayla in. I mean, she’d come without a fight when I’d tracked her down to this street, sitting under a tree. That was one good thing—she wasn’t psycho.

Shayla had ended up this way because she’d escaped from Norah’s place, fallen into a pod outside the front door, transformed instantly, then run off before Norah could do anything. Containing the other bunnies with the front door open had been a challenge for the bunny lady, and Norah had almost fallen into the pod herself in her battle.

Speaking of the pods, there was one nearby. Blue, glowing in the dark of the late afternoon. It’d appeared within the last five minutes. Not that Norah had noticed, now banging on about how her best friend had knitted one of her rabbits a pair of socks that the bunny loved so much.

Sure it did.

Shayla’s eyes moved from me to the pod. Her back legs kicked a little.

“Norah?” I warned.

“And I would love for her to wear the knitted hat, but she’s not very keen on it.”

Shayla was wriggling, but Norah’s mouth wouldn’t stop.

“Norah!”

“I know, I’m—”

“Norah!”

The bunny had sprung free, landing heavily on the ground.

“Careful,” Norah said sweetly and laughed. “Such an escape artist.”

Shayla was off before Norah could grab her and leapt headfirst into the blue pod. It was big enough to swallow her whole body.

“Fuck!” I yelped.

“Shayla? Darling?”

It took less than thirty seconds for the glass bunny to go from regular sized to a huge beast about ten-feet tall.

“Shayla?” Norah looked up, dumbfounded.

“That’s pods for you,” I said.

“Shayla? What are you doing?”

Was she for real? Her stupid bunny had gone and thrown itself into the damn pod. Obvious bloody scenario!

Crazy bunny. Probably descended from Rachel Jade Destiny Margaret Ruby Winter.

I drew my double-pointed spear from the holder on my back. The white smoke came to life across my skin, spiralling all the way up the wooden shaft to the golden blades on both ends—a still mysterious, but cool effect.

Shayla reared, and roared. She turned her scary head to her owner.

“Shayla! Darling! Oh no!”

“Get back, Norah!”

“She’s my baby! My baby!”

Something sprung out of Shayla’s mouth. A tongue. Like a frog tongue, but transparent and dripping sticky clear liquid all over the ground.

It was wrapped around Norah’s neck.

I went to move to help the poor woman, but she was whipped through the air straight to the wide-open mouth of her not-so-fluffy-kins.

She screamed as Shayla threw her head back and swallowed her whole. Even though the bunny was transparent, there was no sign of Shayla in her belly.

The creature’s black eyes were then on me.

Now it was my turn.

I ducked as the tongue lashed out, then dove into a roll to miss the next lashing.

This was supposed to be a simple bunny handover!

Another spring of sticky tongue, this time missing me by inches. Thank God for my regular training which allowed me to kick-ass and move quick enough to avoid joining Norah for the tummy party. Dean had taught me well over the years.

Ugh. Stupid bunny.

Whenever opportunity popped its head out, I made sure to try and bloody well go for it. I swung at Shayla, cracking her on the side, hard enough to administer a fracture.

Awesome. But it wasn’t enough. Getting onto all fours, the bunny roared and hopped at me, her paws making loud booms on the concrete.

Although my choice of weapons was limited to, well, the spear because of residual energy from my time as an actual weapon, my fussy body did actually allow me to use potions, as well as some magical traps. Thank fuck for that! Chipping away at the bunny with my spear wasn’t going to cut it, and I couldn’t run too far to let Shayla go on a rampage.

Potion time!

As I ran, praying I didn’t take a tumble, I reached into the potion belt, pulling out a vial appropriate for the situation. Being prepared for the weird was how you kept alive. Or hoped to if you didn’t—

The tongue caught me by the leg. I fell onto my front, immediately dragged across the ground to a waiting Shayla.

I’d dropped the spear, but not the vial.

Me and Dean had both come to the conclusion that if the bunny needed putting down, it might be a good idea to have some freezer potions. They worked like liquid nitrate, and would weaken the glass so it would crumble, rather than explode. Using an exploder potion would make the environment deadly with flying glass.

I swear sometimes we just knew that shit was gonna mutate into a shit monster, then dive into a fan.

I flung the potion at Shayla. It burst into an icy fog, swallowing her in one puff—like the steam that unleashes from a just-finished dishwasher. Then it was gone, leaving behind a frozen glass bunny.

The tongue flopped uselessly. I untangled it, getting sticky gloop all over my hands. Fuck that for now. I had to take this bunny down.

I scurried to my spear, hurried back to Shayla, then took a moment to wish Norah well on her journey into the afterlife. Maybe she’d go to a happy field of bunnies and rainbows.

Poor woman. I’m sure the other rabbits were in her will. There was nothing I could do to help her now. This hopper couldn’t live to hop another day.

I whacked Shayla with my spear, and she crumbled into lumps if ice. I was expecting a few strikes, but that one whack had struck nice and bloody true.

Standing amongst the frozen bunny bits, was Norah. Alive, soaked to the skin in God knew what (bunny tummy juice?) and shivering.

“My baby…” she whispered.

“Sorry, Norah. But, well, you know.”

“Shayla.” I saw her eyes roll back, then she fainted.

Oh, bollocks!

WITH SHALYA in the hospital with no injury that’d kill her, the case was closed and I’d practically skipped home with relief because I could shower and wash the scenario off me in a rain of hot water.

Ah! This was the life. A heavy fantasy tome in hand, a mug of hot chocolate steaming away, the lights set to a comfortable glow to read by, candles flickering, all the while curled up with my man as our kid snored away in her bed upstairs.

Give me all the cosy shit again and again.

Snow was falling heavy outside. I’d been spot on with my guessing! Not that I was watching it. The curtains were firmly drawn against the outside world because there were too many eyes that wanted to look in. Like the crazy bastards from The Conclave (nutty religious types who hated magic and all things supernatural). Specifically, a set of twins—a man and woman—who’s mum and triplet brothers were bumped off by the creepy Christmas bone-sucker a couple of months ago. My fault apparently, as was the state of the world ever since Coldharbour returned, along with magic and supes being exposed.

Yeah, all my fault. Naughty me!

Where life was complicated being a PIA (Paranormal Investigations Agent) and a dad, there was also the stuff with that American bloke called Parker Smith, who was now parading around as head of The Conclave by the name of Elijah Hart. He’d gone from funding the first ever Conclave HQ building, currently under construction on the edge of Beatrixpark, to being the head of the Amsterdam branch. Guess money talks. Every time I saw him on TV, I wanted to smash his face in for trying to trick me with the friendly guy crap he’d tried before I knew better.

Ugh. Bollocks to all that, to the rest of the list we had of mysteries to solve. We had this moment on a cold Tuesday night in February. You couldn’t beat snuggling in the winter, locked in your pocket of happy with the man you loved, and the best daughter in the whole world who was snoring like a freight train.

I looked up from my book, listening to her. “She’s worse than you,” I told my fiancé.

Dean laughed gently next to me—all deep and yummy. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

We were sharing a blanket on one of our brown sofas, and his response made me shuffle closer to him. He put his arm around me, pulling me closer to kiss my forehead.

Engaged. Me. To him. No date set yet, but I was wearing a ring put there by him on New Year’s Eve.

Man, it’d all been so sappy, and I’d loved every minute of it. As soon as the clock chimed midnight at the small gathering in our house, we finalised on the engagement that’d taken place back in early December after that whole bone-sucker drama, with matching titanium and diamond rings sliding on fingers, a kiss, cheering from our friends Sophie, Luuk and Cherry, as well as our little girl.

Cheesy stuff. Why not? Good to have some cheese now and again until you couldn’t handle anymore. Over the festive period, I’d eaten way too much and had carried on for most of January until I had a word with myself and went cold turkey. Was still missing the brie and crackers though. Hard!

Lou’s snoring was a like chill out music to my ears. It meant she was content and in some dream world. Actually, she was probably drifting in space, dancing on the rings of Saturn seeing as she was obsessed with all things space. She was four and so advanced for her age. It was amazing and a little scary, but as long as she had our love and support, nothing else mattered. I wanted nothing but the best for that crazy, beautiful kid.

I put the bookmark in my fantasy novel and picked up my drink in my Lord of the Rings mug—which was bigger than the last one I’d broke. Not a bad thing. Meant more hot choccie for me.

“Remember Soph’s coming over for seven in the morning,” I said, sipping at the velvety brown liquid.

Dean nodded, popping his paperback down—some political thriller. “I remember.”

“Ugh. I’d kill for a lie in.”

“What’s a lie in?” he countered.

“Yeah, tell me about it. May as well scrub it from our minds.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic.”

“Can’t help it. My natural go-to.” I snuggled even closer until I was almost in his lap.

He wrapped his arm around me again. “I know. But I’m here to give you hope.”

“You are?”

“Listen to this, baby.” He cleared his throat. “Valentine’s Day. A romantic meal out, the pair of us making googly eyes at one another across the table, a walk by the canal, then back here where there’s just you and me.”

“The whole house to ourselves?”

“Yes. We can spend the whole night naked, walk around with everything hanging out.”

I loved the sound of that! “Bang wherever we like?”

“Please don’t make it crude.”

I sat up, twisting to get a look at him. “Seriously? You’re telling me you weren’t thinking about fucking on the kitchen table?”

His sexy Asian features darkened in the hot way they always did, mischievous shadows dancing in his dark eyes. “I’ve never thought about you spread eagled on the kitchen table in my life.”

“You haven’t?” I felt my left eyebrow quirk with speculation.

“Maybe the sink.”

“The sink? Ouch!”

“Not actually in it.”

I was getting hard, even if I was thinking about taps digging into my back. “Then what?”

He tapped his head. “You leave that to me.”

“I’m not getting in the sink, treacle!”

“Never said you were.”

“Cool. So you’re climbing in, yeah?”

His grin sent warmth to my groin. “Why can’t you just wait and be surprised?”

“Surprises are good as long as you’re not getting hurt.”

“I’d never let you get hurt.” His eyes went from hungry lust, to puppy dog.

I melted like the pushover I was. “Aw!” Shuffling closer, I reached out and ran my fingers through his black hair. It was all soft, still damp from his shower. The normal slick and coiffed look was gone, leaving him all adorable and smelling of peach shower gel. “Look at that face.”

He caught my hand, taking it down to his lips.

“Why, sir,” I declared. “You flatter me.”

Dean kissed each of my fingers in turn, then took my middle finger, sliding it into his warm mouth.

“Oh,” I whispered. “Good job I washed my hands after sorting the bins out.”

He froze.

I laughed. “I’m joking. Suck away.”

He removed my finger from his mouth. “Not funny.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“I’d rather suck on something else.”

I giggled as he whipped the blanket off us, tossing it to the side.

“Is that so?” I asked, stretching onto my back, head resting on the arm of the sofa.

“Look what we have here,” he said, running his hands up my navy pyjama bottoms, working his way up to the hardness that was waiting for him.

Every single time he touched me my body reacted with a billion pulses of fiery pleasure. Was it healthy to be this into someone? I didn’t give a crap. Let me be totally unhealthy and addicted to him. This was the good kind of addiction, nothing harmful or toxic about it. We’d been through a lot to get to this point, to this happiness. And one day he’d be my husband.

Dean’s fingers hooked into the band of my PJ bottoms, tugging teasingly. I locked my eyes to his dark gaze, held there in utter bliss, connected as the fabric started to slide down my hips.

I gasped as my cock was freed. Lifting my hips allowed him to pull the bottoms even lower, then all the way off.

He lowered his head, taking me in his mouth. Yeah, my dick being in there was a hundred times more fun than my finger. With familiar expertise, he worked me, ran his finger on the wonderful strip between balls and arse, giving me a good tickle there.

I giggled and he offered a muffled laugh as he continued to devour me.

Dean’s rhythm intensified, building up a delicious friction that made my back arch, my hands slide into his hair.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Yes.”

I came pretty quickly, tugging on his hair at the release. You had to love a quickie.

He lifted his head, a cheeky grin on his face. “Enjoy that, baby?”

“What do you think?” I pulled him in for a kiss. “Your turn.”

He stripped his shorts and vest off, then positioned himself so he was straddling my chest, his cock resting on my lips.

He’d got his piercing in. Yay!

I licked the silver ring, took it between my teeth and rolled pulled a little to make him moan.

Before I got to work, I had to drink him in; that body of toned muscle, a powerful force above me. He was breath-taking, beautiful. I just liked to stare at his naked flesh. My hands ran up his sides to his chest, back down to his flat stomach, then to his thighs.

“I love you,” I said.

“Love you too,” he answered, stroking the side of my face, tracing his fingertips across my stubbled jawline. “So much.”

I took his hand, kissing his engagement ring.

What a soppy pair!

With that, I moved my hands round to his buttocks, adjusted my position and let him slide his pierced cock into my willing mouth.

He rocked back and forth, making love to me in this other way we liked to do. I teased his backside as he thrusted, drawling circles across that sweet crevice with one hand, while the other played with his balls.

Dean loved it, and I loved hearing his rapid breathing, the moaning that escaped his luscious lips.

I’d had a night of cocoa and an epic fantasy book planned, yet here we were getting down to business. Spontaneous nookie was the best! And the fact he had that Prince Albert of his in tonight made it all the better. There was something about that silver ring that drove me wild.

He climaxed inside me, all hot and yummy, then got off my chest. I moved over to accommodate him on the sofa, and he slid next to me. His arms opened to welcome me in, and I snuggled into him, resting my head on his shoulder, those arms wrapping around me, his chin resting on my head.

We lay there naked and breathless, enjoying each other’s nakedness for a bit, languishing in a happy moment.

I was never gonna finish that book!

“That was fun,” I said.

“It was, baby.”

“Can we stay like this all night?”

“If you want. Better put some clothes on eventually, though.”

“Yeah, that’d be wise. But only until Valentine’s Day, right?”

“Absolutely.” He kissed the top of my head.

I gently ran my fingernails up and down his stomach. “What’s the plan for tomorrow, then?”

One of the cases we were working on involved major weirdness. When wasn’t it weird? There’d been a series of incidents with a creature, a pod-born, hitting tourist attractions and leaving behind dancing clay figures to cause havoc and freak everyone out. We’d encountered one in Rijksmuseum, which had come at me waving its fists. Landed a few blows on my shins, which had been surprisingly painful seeing as the figure was about one-foot tall. I’d kicked the fucker, breaking it into several pieces as it was made of the flimsiest clay ever. The pod-born making it all happen kept slipping through the poxy net!

That was the nature of our lives now. Head-scratching bollocks. As PIAs, we dealt with all sorts of weird. This case was at the ‘hunting the perp’ stage. Various eyewitnesses had given the police a description, which they’d handed over to us so we could track down this creature. Plus, I’d seen the knobhead briefly in the museum.

“Map stuff,” Dean answered my question. “I want to go over it all again before we head out.”

“Okay.” My fiancé thought he might have found the locale of the clay puppet master’s hideout. “Then we go get it?” I asked.

“Yes, baby.”

My stomach did a little flip. Wasn’t like I didn’t know we’d be going out into the field tomorrow. It was just that, well, I hated leaving Lou behind. The Conclave scared the shit out of me, and so did all the stuff with Elijah Hart/Parker Smith. Not having the full story made it a hundred times worse.

Okay. No thinking about that now. “Shall we get dressed?”

“Five more minutes,” he replied.

“Not gonna argue with that.”

DRESSED, our previous positions of book reading on the sofa restored, I was just getting to a really exciting bit where it looked like one of the heroes was about to be bumped off, a fresh mug of cocoa poised at my lips, when a horrible scream came from outside, followed by a heavy bang on our front door. In fact, the whole house shook.

The wards!

“Friggin’ hell!” I yelped, spilling the hot beverage all down my front as I leapt off the sofa, cracking my knee on the coffee table. “Bollocks!” My mug landed some feet away, smashing, my book tossed somewhere else.

God dammit!

Dean was already at the window. “Oh shit!” He sprang into action.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s a dead goblin on our doorstep!”

TWO

DEAN

I paused at the door, looking back to make sure Jake was ready.

Louise was still asleep, snoring away. That was one good thing. I didn’t want her seeing any of this.

Jake pulled on some boots and grabbed his spear from its secret place in the hallway. I’d built a secret compartment there for a dagger, also adding a bigger compartment to accommodate his weapon.

I slipped some trainers on and retrieved the blade. “You good?” I asked.

“Let’s do it.”

At the top of our stoop, right on our doorstep, was a goblin. His naked body sported multiple stab wounds all over his green flesh, the eyes swollen and purple, his mouth wide open with only a few teeth left in there.

A woman shrieked.

Spread-eagled on the snowy canal path that ran past our house was a man dressed in a long black coat. There were two women backing away from him, their phones out for calling the police, but looking really panicked by the way they fumbled with their devices.

Jake ran down the stoop stairs as I pulled my own phone out.

“Hallo? Dean? It’s so late,” Lars’s sleepy voice answered in Dutch.

“Sorry for the late call, but there’s been an incident.”

Lars was our direct contact with the police, the best man to deal with in a sea of arseholes in the force who didn’t enjoy the company of PIAs. Too bad as they had no choice but to work with us in this insane world we shared.

“What’s happened?” He yawned down the line.

“There’s a dead goblin and what looks like a dead human outside our house.”

“Excuse me?”

“I think you’d better get down here to see for yourself.”

“Give me twenty minutes. Any witnesses?”

“Yes.”

“Shit! See you shortly.” He hung up.

“Definitely dead,” Jake called to me as he checked the human body. Then he went to speak with the women. I could see blood pooling beneath the head, staining the snow a dark crimson under the dim glow of the streetlights.

Sophie and Luuk, our neighbours, came out of their front door to see what all the commotion was about. I waved them over.

“Oh no!” Luuk gasped as he saw the body.

“What’s going on?” Sophie asked.

“This just happened now.”

Sophie looked past me through the open front door. “Is Louise asleep?”

“Yes. At the moment.”

“We’ll go inside,” she said, “keep an eye on her while you deal with this.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “Really appreciate it.”

Sophie, a witch, was Louise’s babysitter and part-time tutor when we didn’t have the time to school our daughter—and all regular schools were closed because of the pods. She and her husband Luuk, a human, were a Godsend, having helped us out time and time again with child-watching duties.

They went inside, closing the door behind them.

I stepped over the goblin, going down to join Jake and the women.

Both of them were pale with red noses from the cold, one with a pink hat, the other a red one. Jake had taken them away from the dead figure.

“This is Jess,” Jake told me, gesturing to the woman with the pink hat. “And this is Fiona.”

Fiona was sobbing.

“Did you call the police?” I asked them in Dutch.

“Sorry, we don’t speak the language,” Jess said with a British accent. “We’re here on holiday.”

I nodded. I repeated my question.

“No,” Jess answered, “he told us you would.” She pointed at Jake. “You’re PIAs?”

“We are and I have called the police, so don’t worry.”

Fiona sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of a gloved hand.

At least it was just the two of them out on the street. None of the other neighbours had come to their doors. No gathering crowd, for now, was a helpful.

“I just need to talk to my fiancé for a moment,” I told them.

They both nodded, smiling at the word fiancé. “Okay”.

I took Jake to one side. “What did they say?” I kept my voice low.

His forehead creased into a frown. “Don’t know if you were thinking the same as me, but it looked to me like that bloke on the ground had got too close to the wards by putting the goblin on the doorstep.”

“Yes. I was thinking that.”

“Well, Fiona and Jess both said the bloke ran up the steps, the body already there. And he was being chased.”

“By who?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“The goblin was already there?”

“Yeah. Fucked up, right?”

I went over to the human, crouching down for a better look. There was a cut on the forehead, but there was something far worse at the back making all the blood leak out. I wouldn’t move him just yet—wait until the coroner showed up.

“I want to go home,” Jess said. “Can we go?”

“In a bit,” Jake soothed. “We just need to take down some statements first. The police will want to chat to you.”

“Oh, God.”

“It’ll be okay.”

“All we wanted was a fun night out.”

Part of my power as a half-fae was mental manipulation. I could work on the minds of these women, calm them down, make them forget what they’d seen. I didn’t use it much these days, but sometimes a witness needed a magical placebo to make things better after they’d done all they could.

These two would need it as they were both sobbing together now.

My front door opened and Luuk came out with two thick coats flung over his arm.

“Good idea,” I said as he handed me mine. “Thanks. Should’ve thought about that.”

“No problem,” he replied, giving Jake his and hurrying back into the house.

The air was bitterly cold. Adrenaline has a funny way of making you not notice things, even freezing weather, until it fades away. I shrugged the coat on, checking Jake had done the same. We could have gone inside with these women, but we didn’t know them. No stranger got in our house. The circumstances didn’t matter. Our daughter’s safety was the number one priority, and that was our house. Not our offices, but our sacred space. Plus, you never knew who would be working for The Conclave, trying to worm their way into our sanctuary and destroy my family.

I wouldn’t let that happen.

Blue lights in the distance. Lars was approaching.

LARS and I used his car to take the statements from Fiona and Jess while Jake went inside the house. Another three officers had shown up, including Evi, who was another officer on our side, and possibly dating Lars. She and two male officers blocked off the area, which had caught the attention of the neighbours, while the coroner and her crew of two dealt with the body. The appropriate goblins had been notified about the slaying of one of their own, on their way to come and collect him.

The two women sat in the back of the car, us in the front. Lars had a huge notepad ready to record their statement.

Fiona didn’t talk much, Jess the voice of the pair. “We were celebrating being single. Why not? People celebrate anniversaries all the time. We’ve been free from our partners for six years. Both got out around the same time. That’s how we’ve always done things. It’s like we’re twins, really. Anyway, so we decided to come to Amsterdam to celebrate, thinking it would all be pretty and wintery.”

“It is pretty,” Fiona added with a sniff.

“Yes,” Jess agreed. “We heard about that weird candy-striped thing, but then that’s life. Not like we don’t have stuff like that in England.”

“Where are you from?” I asked, watching her through the grate separating the front of the car from the back.

“St. Albans.”

“I know it,” I said.

“Have you been?”

“Once. Lovely cathedral.”

She nodded. “Seems to get way too many pods inside it, though.”

“Really?”

“It’s closed a lot now.”

“Such a shame,” Fiona chimed in. “I love it there.”

I waited, not saying anything. Lars had his pen poised on the paper.

Jess looked out of the window and sighed. “This really is lovely here. It was. It is. I just want to go home.”

“Take a breath,” I said. “You don’t need to rush this.”

“I’m fine.” She let out a heavy sigh. “We’ve been drinking, as you can tell. Had cocktails, went to a peep show, flirted with some guys but we’re not getting involved with men for now. When you’ve been tangled up in a miserable relationship you just need to be free. Not abusive or anything, just everything fizzled out.”

“Yep,” Fiona said.

I got that. Before I’d fallen for Jake, and before leaving Brighton for Coldharbour, I’d had a girlfriend. Claire. We’d grown apart, just friends sharing a flat and a cat and some memories. She’d moved on, I’d found out, married with two kids, finding someone who actually made the sparks go off like I had. Good for her, and good for me.

“I’m waffling,” Jess said. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Take your time,” I replied softly. “You said this man was being chased?”

“Yes. So we had the drinks and all the fun and started back for our hotel which isn’t that far from here. Anyway, we saw that poor man running down the path as we approached your house. He slipped a lot and looked really scared. There was…someone else. Something else. It…shimmered.”

Lars looked at me with a puzzled expression, then said, “Can you elaborate?”

Jess massaged her temples, groaned. “Did I actually see it? Too many cocktails.”

“It looked like a person,” Fiona added. “Like you could see the outline of the figure, running, shimmering, blinking on and off.”

Lars scribbled that down, underlining it twice.

Fiona continued, having now picked up the talking stick. “The guy ran up your steps, tripped on the goblin and smacked his head off the ground. I screamed, realising there was a goblin body there, like my brain had just woke up. That shimmering figure slammed into your door. Jesus! The red ripple that went over your house.”

The wards.

“Before the running guy could get to his feet, the figure was up and on him and dragged him off your stoop. Happened so fast. It slammed the man’s head down hard several times. Then it ran off.”

It hadn’t taken me long to get to the window when I’d heard the scream and the bang on the front door. “That was fast,” I said.

“Too fast,” Fiona responded.

“I feel sick,” Jess said.

“Let me open the door,” Lars said, getting out of the car.

“What creature can move like that?” Fiona asked.

My brain was already pondering that exact question, along with the shimmering invisibility aspect.

“Is there anything else?” I asked.

“No. I don’t think so. Can we go now?”

“Yes,” Lars answered. “I’ll take you home.”

“If you remember anything else,” I added, “please don’t hesitate to contact us or the police.”

FULLY DRESSED NOW, the two witnesses gone, Jake and I conducted an investigation of the area before the bodies were removed.

With my specially designed UV light, a handy tool which picked up paranormal traces, I checked the body, the steps of our stoop, and the general area. The dead man had fingerprints of brownish yellow—pod trace—all over his body. Whatever that shimmering thing had been, its hands were all over the corpse. The police would’ve already taken their own images of these prints, and I did the same with my phone. There would be some research going down in my study tonight.

“Pod?” Jake asked from behind me.

“Yes.”

So much for a cosy night with a book, blow job and sleep.

The goblin didn’t have any evidence on him to the immediate eye, the scanner showing nothing. An autopsy might.

I turned to see Jake sitting on the porch steps, the goblin gone, shoulders slumped, staring into space.

“You’ll get a numb bum,” I said, approaching.

He looked up, his blue eyes snaring me with their intensity. “What are the chances that two people needed our help in one night? If the goblin had been looking for us, that is.”

I took a seat next to him, my coat protecting my backside from the cold of the snow for the moment. “We still don’t know the facts. We can’t rule anything out.”

Jake rested his head on my shoulder. “What if the goblin was put there?”

I put an arm around him, fingers stroking the short dark hair at the nape of his neck.

“We’ll figure it out, baby.”

“It’s too cold for a naked goblin to go about the city unnoticed,” he continued. “People would notice.”

“They would. I think him being dumped here is a safe assumption.”

“But why? What does this have to do with us? You think it’s The Conclave? Why would they want to murder goblins to fuck with us?”

“Because they’re cruel.”

“Yeah, but it makes no sense. Guess that’s the point.”

I pulled him closer into me as the man’s body was taken into the coroner’s van.

“Do you think he’s human?” Jake asked.

“Seems to be. You never know, though.”

“Yeah.” He blew out a long breath, condensation curling in the night. “I hate that this shit has come to our house again. I feel compromised. Work should be at the office, not here.”

We didn’t put any information anywhere about where we lived, but folk always seemed to find a way to track us down.

“Do you want to move?” I asked.

He sat up straight, turning to give me an appalled expression.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Don’t look at me like that. I was being serious.”

“And this ain’t my serious face?”

I laughed gently again. “Well?”

“Of course I don’t wanna move! Are you crazy? I love this house.”

“It’s not a question about loving the house or not.”

“Er, it is actually. I ain’t being driven from my home by no knobhead. We’ve built our life here, and we have the best neighbours ever. Well, maybe not them…” He paused and nodded to the neighbours on the other side—the snooty vampires. “Anyway, yeah. I’m not moving.”

“I didn’t say we had to.”

“I know you didn’t. You don’t give the orders around here, matey boy.”

His face had reddened. “I think you overreacted a bit there.”

He frowned. “No, I didn’t.”

“You don’t need to be testy. I was just throwing it out there.”

It took a moment for the regular alabaster shade of his complexion to return, and for his forehead to un-crease. “Because you’re thoughtful,” he said softly. “That’s so sweet of you.”

“Oh, you don’t need to say that.”

“I do. I’m a knob. I’m sorry. I get worked up about these things.”

I tried not to laugh again. “Really? You? Get worked up? Never!”

He shouldered me. “Cheeky sod.” His hand found mine, our fingers interlocking. “I’m telling you now, whatever all this shit is, we’re having that Valentine’s Day you were talking about not matter what.”

“Determined, are you?”

“Damn right I am.”

“Me too.”

“Good. Ugh.”

“What?”

“That poxy clay figures thing too.”

“It’s looking like a busy month.”

He stood. “I’m going in. You were right. My arse is friggin’ numb now.”

“I’ll warm it up for you.”

LUUK AND SOPHIE had left an hour ago. It’d just gone half one in the morning. Jake was asleep on the sofa beside me as I researched invisible entities on the Encyclopaedia of Species (EOS), via the Supernatural Eyes VPN, on my laptop, with another tab open for the Dossier of Supernatural Crimes (DSC)—a website for those with the codes to unlock it.

I’d uploaded the pod prints, running a scan against the DSC files. It was halfway done. No results so far. It would only register prints belonging to a supernatural, the police’s scan trawling the human files.

As for invisible creatures, the only thing I was getting were potions that weren’t commonly used nowadays on account of their deadly repercussions. Too much grief for a complicated magic which required, bizarrely, the scales of a ghost fish, and the eye of a black dragonfish. It didn’t say why, but there would be a lot of deep-sea diving involved to get those ingredients. I’d talk to Mila about it, though. She was an alchemist and may know more about this stuff, if there was actually a market for these potions regardless of the dangers. Just because there was this one man who’d melted his face off while invisible from taking the potion, eventually found when his rotting body had started to stink out his house, didn’t mean people wouldn’t still try it. Folk consumed pods, thinking they had healing properties. No. Wrong. Only bad things happened. Still, there was a whole movement of pro-pod idiots.

Jake stirred, yawning his head off. Our daughter was still snoring away, completely oblivious to the horrors that’d taken place outside her home.

Guilt. So much guilt. The moving idea I’d mentioned to Jake did have some serious truth to it. I loved our house too, but our lives were dangerous doing all this PIA stuff. I knew that and the guilt of putting Jake and Louise in danger gnawed at me every day. It also didn’t help that my mind went to some dark places, conjuring up scenarios in which I’d lose them to awful deaths—all because of me. Mila’s Calm Elixirs helped with this extreme version of OCD, but not with the guilt.

In an ideal world, I’d whisk them both away to somewhere hidden and safe. But where would that be? The world was overrun with pods thanks to the supernatural council messing everything up. They couldn’t be outrun.

And I had a past to make up for.

“Shit,” Jake said sleepily. “What time is it?”

I told him.

“It is?”

“Yes. We should go up really.”

“Yeah. Need bed.”

“Just letting this print scan run first.”

“Find anything?” he asked.

“Not yet.”

Jake let out another huge yawn.

“Go up, baby. I won’t be long.” His eyelids were heavy. “Unless you want to stay down here?”

“No way. The mattress is calling. See you in the morning.” He slowly got to his feet. “Once my head hits that pillow, I’m gone.”

“Goodnight, Jake.”

“Night.”

With a quick kiss, he was gone.

THREE

JAKE

“And now I can name all of Jupiter’s moons, Daddy. Without looking. I’m not joking.” Lou looked up at me expectantly as I scrambled some eggs on the stove.

“Go on, then.”

“There’s seventy-nine.”

“You what?”

“But fifty-three with names.”

“Okay. Off you go, then.”

“Callisto, Ganymede…”

Lou had been up since six—half an hour after me. My brain wouldn’t let me kip much in the end. It was now half six, the morning still dark. The snow had come down hard overnight, laying it on thick.

“Europa…”

Her obsession with space also meant she had a favourite planet. I mean, don’t we all? I was quite partial to a bit of Neptune myself. I’d once told Dean I loved Uranus—thinking I was hilarious. To me it was funny!

Lou loved Jupiter. She found it the most fascinating place in the universe, full of hope that one day there’d be a chance to visit it. Was good to have dreams, even about holidays on gas planets.

Thank God there weren’t seventy-nine names though. I loved her enthusiasm, but mine wasn’t quite up there yet. Few more cuppas would fix it.

Normality was good. It meant she was oblivious to the bollocks that’d gone on out in the big, bad world neither of us could fully protect her from but took it as a win when the shields were working.

Lou reeled off a few more and was done, timing it perfectly with me dishing up the scrambled eggs and toast.

“Well done,” I said. “Clever girl. Your brain is so big.”

That made her frown at me. “My head isn’t big, Daddy.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I said your brain was big. I meant you’re clever.”

“Oh.” She started feeling her skull with the cutest paranoia. I supressed cracking up at her because it ran the risk of setting her off.

“Come on,” I announced, taking things in a breakfasty direction. “Grub time.”

Checking her skull forgotten, Lou’s mouth stretched into a happy grin. Scrambled eggs on toast was one of her favourite wake-up foods. Not that she needed waking up. Blimey! Talk about being full of beans.

I sat with her, not hungry. Partially because of last night, and partially because sometimes I just wanted a liquid breakfast of the hot variety to get me through the morning—especially when running on hardly any sleep.

I’d have to wake Dean soon. He’d have got less kip than me. God knows what time he’d rocked into bed. Hadn’t noticed, but he was there when I woke up, sleeping deep. He did that—pulled all-nighters. It worried me sometimes, but when he got something in his head it was best to let him run with it.

“You’ve got spellings today,” I said.

Lou nodded, stuffing some egg in her mouth.

“Then maths this afternoon.”

She swallowed her food. “I know, Daddy. Sad you won’t be here for it.”

“I know, sweetie.” Crap! That hurt! “Remember you’ve got your special day with Papa tomorrow, though.”

“I looking forward to it.”

I loved those mistakes in her speech because it anchored her back into being a four-year-old. She could name all the moons she wanted. Lou was still our little girl.

It was her birthday next month—March. Five. Five! How the hell did that happen? Seemed like five minutes ago we were doing bottle feeds, changing nappies, not five years ago. Ugh. Bollocking time and it needing to slam its foot down on the pedal.

Slow down, knobhead!

No special day for me, though. I’d be holding the fort at the offices of Jake & Dean Investigations. Dean did that a lot, and he needed a break. He’d tried protesting, but I’d told him tough shit, get over it. This was a partnership, not all on him with me drifting in and out when I could. Yeah, I’d rather be at home with Lou doing the schooling and all the homely things, but that would be neglecting my duty as Dean’s partner.

I couldn’t do that.

If I was honest, there was a conflict going on inside me. The events at Crimbo had brought all thoughts closer to the surface. But that was stuff I wasn’t gonna think about, or voice. It wasn’t fair. I had to push it down or I’d lose it. And I wasn’t about to give in to my fears.

“Do you want to move?”

“You want some more?” Lou had cleared her plate.

“Yes please, Daddy.”

“No worries. I made loads.”

As I got up, I checked the clock. It was approaching 06:45. Soph would be here soon. Time to wake up Dean. Maybe I shouldn’t have left him to sleep so long. Lou thanked me as I popped the second helping of food before her.

Footsteps and there he was, standing in the kitchen doorway, immaculate in black jeans and a gray jumper, his hair slicked back and him smelling fresh out the shower.

Blimey. Wish I had those kinds of get-ready skills. He didn’t look the slightest bit knackered. I know I did.

“Papa!” Lou cried with her mouthful, egg spraying all over the table.

I let her have that one on account of her being excited about seeing her papa. But only the one. Table manners mattered.

“Good morning, darling.” He sat down with her. “How are you?” She started to talk, and he stopped her. “Finish that mouthful first.”

I’ve never seen anyone chew so fast. “I told Daddy about Jupiter’s moons.”

“What about them?”

I brought him over some eggs and a cup of coffee. He liked it black, nothing else.

Hardcore.

I took a seat too, now on my second cup of tea and Lou started naming the planets again.

Dean was totally enraptured with her. He listened patiently to every word, letting her take her time when she got tangled up on a few of the names. It was adorable on so many bloody levels. I could watch the pair of them all day.

She was the spitting image of her dad but had the dark curly hair of her mum—which was wild at the moment. It was a fucker to brush. Always me who did it. I had the skills for getting the knots out, and the authority to make her sit still. I always won every battle, no matter how much she tried to get the upper hand.

“Daddy?” Lou said to me.

“Yeah?”

“Why you drinking from that cup?”

“What do mean?”

“Where’s your favourite one? Lord Ring?”

I laughed. “Lord of the Rings?”

She giggled. “Silly me!”

“I broke it.”

“Another one?”

“Yep.”

“Blimey.”

I’d just taken a gulp of tea, which went the way of the eggs she’d sprayed, and up my nose. I coughed and spluttered while laughing at the same time, which set her off in a fit of giggles.

Dean patted my back, laughing too. “You two are crazy.”

I got up for a cloth and to regain some dignity. Yeah, that’d gone out the window years ago.

“Why do I always end up with tea down me?” I rubbed at the fresh stain down the front of my hoody. “That’s what I get for wearing white.”

Dean went for a sympathetic look and failed. “I thought you liked the stained look. Suits you.”

“What the fuck?” I winced at the same time as him. Oops!

Lou immediately pointed at me. “Euro in the swear box!”

Bollocks. “Yeah, I know. And don’t point.”

“Sorry, Daddy.”

“Yeah, well. Blame Papa for being rude.”

“I wasn’t rude.” Dean held up his hands.

“You were, Papa. You dissed Daddy’s fashion.”

“See?” I said. “Our daughter knows how it is.”

Dean offered me a cheeky grin. “I’m being punished for being honest.”

“Do you want me to stick your face in those eggs?”

“Mercy!” He then burst into laughter which Lou joined in with.

“Wind-up merchant.”

“You’re too easy, baby.” He took me by the hand and kissed my knuckles.

“I’m off to change before Soph—” The doorbell rang. “That’s her.”

I left the pair of them to their giggling and answered the door—double-checking it was Soph and not some fucker out to get me. She had a key but didn’t like to use it unless she had to. Privacy and all that.

“Hey,” I greeted her, cold air rushing in. “Holy fuck! Get in here quick. That’s one cold bastard out there.”

“I heard that!” Lou called from the kitchen.

I lowered my voice. “That’s the second time in five minutes.”

Sophie closed the door behind her. “You’ll be broke soon.” She removed her coat and hung it on the rack. “But you’re right, it’s terribly bitter outside.”

“Want some eggs and coffee?”

“I’d love some. Thank you. What happened to your clothes?” She eyed up my front.

“Tea incident.”

“Again?”

What the friggin’ hell? Where had this rep as me being into spilling crap down myself come from?

“Yeah, well.”

I led her into the kitchen, Dean and Lou greeting her as I put on some toast.

“Oi, joker,” I poked my fiancé in the back of the head. “Keep an eye on the grill. I’m gonna change.”

“Of course, my beloved.”

“You want tea down you too?”

“There’s no need for violence, light of my life.”

“See what I have to live with, Soph?”

“You cannot excuse him of lacking in chivalry,” she replied.

“Is that what you call it?”

“Yes,” Dean cut in. “She’s right.”

“Don’t let the toast burn,” I said, leaving them giggling.

“NOW YOU MAKE sure to do all your spellings for Sophie.” Dean had Lou in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder.

There’d been some tears, but she’d calmed down, still a bit sniffly. I wiped her red eyes gently with a tissue, then her nose.

“Okay, Papa.”

“Then tomorrow we can have some fun.”

“Down to business today,” I added, “like we said.” I pushed a curl out of her face. “Tonight we can play some games. Yeah?”

She nodded, having a sniff. “Down to business.”

“That’s right.”

Soph kept her distance, waiting in the living room. This was a familiar pattern, a horrible bloody pattern we had to face a lot. Had to be steady in the storm, no matter how much it tried to lob you out of the boat.

“We’ve got to go,” Dean said. “Big day of business for Daddy and Papa too.”

“We all got business,” she responded.

“Yes, darling. If you went to an actual school, you’d be going there now anyway. So think of it like that.”

She didn’t say anything.

Dean put her down, crouching down to her level. “We love you very much.”

I joined them. “Very, very much.” We gave her a hug at the same time.

“Daddy?” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Did you pay the swear box?”

FOUR

DEAN

“Maybe we shouldn’t do the Valentine’s Day thing,” Jake announced.

We turned onto Oudezijds Achterburgwal, making the short walk from our house on Blauwebeergracht, a stretch of canal near Keizersgracht. Our bikes wouldn’t handle the deep snow, so we’d decided to trudge to work. Normally it took around ten minutes. Today it took twenty.

“Why?”

“We should spend it with Lou. Doesn’t feel right.”

The canal to my left was frozen solid, a pigeon skating across its surface in a fluster. The whole of the red-light district was drowning in white. “But what about us?”

“All about the sacrifice, right?”

“Yes, but we also have to take those together moments so things don’t stagnate.”

“Stagnate?”

“You know what I mean, Jake.”

He sighed as the snow crunched under our boots. “I do. I agree.”

“It’s the tears,” I said, taking his hand. “They hit like a bullet. But she’ll be fine, and we’ll go out after she’s put to bed. How about that?”

“Not like she’ll wake up.” He smiled. “That girl could snore away the apocalypse.”

We reached the offices of Jake & Dean Investigations, a building of three floors. The top two were ours, the bottom a window where our friend Cherry worked. Her blue light was off, the red curtain drawn closed. Not the best time of day for clients, and not really the weather either.

“Okay,” Jake said, “we’ll do it.”

“It’ll be fun.” I stuck the key in the lock.

As we entered the narrow hallway, the door on left which opened into Cherry’s window was open. I looked up the stairs leading to our offices. Our front door was shut.

Jake drew the spear from the holster on his back, me readying my knuckle dusters.

“Cherry?” I called.

“Hallo?” she called back.

“Overkill,” Jake muttered.

“Better to be safe than dead.”

He nodded, putting his smoking spear away.

“You okay?” I asked in Dutch through the gap.

Heels clicking, then she opened the door. Cherry’s red hair was sleek, her thin face painted heavily with makeup that was slightly smudged around the eyes, and she wore a small pink nightgown with matching fluffy heels.

“I’m fine. How are you both?”

“Good,” Jake and I said at the same time.

“I had a late client. Just cleaning up.”

“Need some help?”

“No, no. You boys get to work. I’m sure you have a busy day ahead.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. Thank you.”

“Rest up,” I said.

“I will. Have a great day.”

Something wasn’t right.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” I pressed.

She nodded, her eyes glistening.

“No you ain’t,” Jake said. “Come here.”

She fell into Jake’s arms, breaking into heavy sobbing. He stroked her back, let her cry into his chest.

“What happened?” I asked.

She looked up from Jake, makeup even more smudged. “I don’t know, I’m just so…so tired.”

“Did someone do something? Hurt you?”

“No. It was Victor. He was as sweet as always. I just…I just feel so alone. He makes me feel lonely because he’s so lovely. Sorry, I’m being stupid.”

We’d heard about Victor before and how much she enjoyed it when he came to visit her window—which was becoming a weekly thing. “You’re not, and I get what you’re saying,” I offered. “You want things to be real with that man.”

“That makes me stupid. He’s just a client.”

“He comes every week though,” Jake said.

“That doesn’t mean I should feel like this. What I do isn’t real. It’s a service, not love, not affection. Maybe there is some affection sometimes with the gentle guys, but Victor is more than gentle, he is like a lover. But he still pays to touch my body, and that makes it unreal. And I wish it wasn’t.”

She’d fallen for him. I knew what that felt like when it was new and confusing and tearing you up inside. Like the first time I’d seen Jake and how I’d wanted to protect him, to know more about him. Some people just got under your skin, filled your head and your heart, and Jake had been something unexpected. I’d tried to fight it, but love has a funny way of turning the world upside down.

“I need to sleep,” Cherry said. “That’s all.”

No, that wasn’t all, but who was I to give lectures on matters of the heart?

Jake had a hand on both her shoulders. “Take it easy, yeah? You’ll be okay.”

“You’re both very sweet.”

Jake and I hugged her and left her to clean up, heading up the stairs into our offices.

The heating was on, warming up our messy space. Our desks were loaded with paperwork, laptops sitting in the middle of the chaotic sea of notes and research. Jake had dusted a week ago, not that it looked any different. This was one of those places that just collected dirt, never letting it go.

I sat down, opening my laptop. “I’ll carry on with last night’s stuff.”

Jake nodded in agreement. “Cool. I’ll carry on with the clay fucker. But first, I need more tea. Fancy a cup?”

“Please.”

THE RESEARCH HADN’T BROUGHT up any species with invisible powers at all, and no indication of similar crimes or matching supernatural fingerprints. That was fine. I was expecting a call from Lars—he’d texted to let me know he’d contact me shortly with some information. That was one thread I’d deal with, put together a plan for. As for the goblin, it’d be a case of digging deeper. So far, the two incidents on my doorstep appeared to be unlinked. We had a name for the dead goblin—Roberto. Goblins specialised in cleaning up messes, and he’d helped with the clean up here when that guy who’d been injected with liquid wand crystal had breached our wards and exploded in the bathroom upstairs. That was all the information The Goblin Society of the Netherlands had provided so far.

Someone had part of Jake’s DNA, allowing those wards to be breached. Parker Smith/Elijah Hart. Mila had fixed the wards and beefed up the ones at home too. I was convinced Parker/Elijah had been responsible for that exploding incident. Now I just needed to know what it was he wanted with Jake. Because there was something. There always was.

Another mystery to solve.

The autopsy on the goblin was completed. Trauma to the head, multiple stab wounds. Basically, what we already knew. No pod traces, but tests were being carried out on some of the fibres found in the wounds, but I didn’t hold out much hope of them revealing anything other than what the murder weapon, or weapons, was.

I also needed to talk to Mila, but my calls were going to her voicemail. She never had her phone on when she was asleep. Can’t say I blamed her.

My phone rang.

“Hallo, Lars.”

“Hallo. We have a match. I’ve emailed over the details. His name is Thomas Ark. Eighteen. Been in trouble once for drunk and disorderly behaviour. Nothing else before or since.”

I opened the email. “Is he still at this address?”

“Ja. I’ve some officers heading over there now to bring him in.”

As the PIA on this case, I’d need to get over there for the interview. “I’ll be at the station in thirty minutes.”

Jake looked up from his work, cocking an eyebrow.

“I’ll be here.” Lars ended the call.

“They got a match?” Jake asked.

“Yes.” I gulped the last of my tepid tea. “They’re bringing him in now.”

“Cool. Well, not cool for him or the dead bloke…. you know what I mean.”

“You really didn’t need to explain yourself.” I gave him a wink.

“You’re being one cheeky git this morning.”

“What? What have I done now?”

“Don’t play innocent.”

“Not playing at it. It’s true.”

He smirked. “Silly sod. Anyway, what do you want to do about the clay thing? Want me to go? Or should I start talking to goblins?”

The clay doll wasn’t a danger, just a nuisance the city wanted rid of. Still, where I’d maybe pinpointed its master to wasn’t somewhere I wanted Jake to go alone. “We’ll sort that out together. Do you mind talking to some goblins?”

“Sure thing.”

THE CITY COULD NORMALLY GET a handle on snowfall, keep the streets clear for everything to function. Not today, not in recent times.

Nowadays, snow was an extremely disruptive event, unrelenting until it was done. It started to fall again in heavy clumps as I made my way to the Nieuwmark metro station. The trains were still running, in part, at least, unlike the trams.

Eventually, after being crammed into a carriage, enduring the journey, then heading back up to the surface to trudge through deeper snow, I arrived at the police station.

Lars was waiting in the doorway. He was a big guy with an even bigger ginger beard that seemed to grow a few inches every time I saw him. His blue uniform strained at the swell of his huge arms that were folded across his chest.

“Really shit weather,” he announced as he opened the door.

“I’ll say.” I dusted myself off, stamping snow off my boots. “How are your people doing with this Thomas Ark?”

“We had to bring in a snow plough.”

“Really?”

“Great, isn’t it? I wish this snow would fuck off.”

“Same.”

“Anyway, it’s going to be longer than we thought. Let’s have a coffee and a catch up.”

WE SAT in the empty cafeteria, nursing black coffees in Styrofoam cups.

“You think this kid has been messing with some potions?” Lars said. “Maybe some pods?”

“That’s one theory. He could have invisible powers as a result of pod contact. Scary prospect.”

“Very scary!”

The autopsy results would be coming through at some stage today. Hopefully we’d have more to go on other than Thomas Ark’s fingerprints and some pod traces.

Was this guy pod-born?

I kept my head on straight, but I was itching to talk to him so he could give me an explanation as to what he was doing outside my house.

FIVE

JAKE

Of course I’d fallen flat on my arse, swallowed by the poxy snow.

Ugh.

Even as I sat up, the walls of white were almost covering my face. I felt like shouting ‘peekaboo’ to the next person who came past. Not that there were many people on the streets. A lot of the businesses were closed, or closing, because you had to be one crazy knobhead to be out in this.

A crazy knobhead like me.

Back to being vertical, I continued my slow walk down Zeedijk, which wasn’t far from Jake & Dean Investigations.

Was Amsterdam about to be swallowed by snow? It better not! I’d like to get in my front door again!

A woman walked past me, stumbled, and ended up on her backside.

“You okay?” I called.

“Yes!” she yelled, leaping to her feet. She looked like a snowwoman, covered head to toe.

I thought better about recommending she get herself a carrot to complete the look.

She didn’t say a word, carried on, no emotion on her face. Bet she was fucking fuming on the inside.

With patience I never knew I had, I made it to the narrow side street I needed.

The Goblin Society of the Netherlands was smack bang in the middle of the bunched-up row of buildings, a wooden plaque with gold lettering indicating the helpful fact I already knew. This place was the go-to for the goblins of this country. Looked too small to be a seat of power, but then I wasn’t a goblin, so what the frig did I know?

I knocked the light brown door, polished to within an inch of its life, then rang the doorbell. Always good to cover both avenues.

A few seconds later, the door opened and a goblin in a red smoking hat, with a white beard and red robes with golden trim, answered. He looked like a mini, green-skinned wizard.

“Oh, it’s you.” His amber eyes regarded me through wonky spectacles.

“Me?”

“Jake Winter.”

I felt like I should bow—I’ve no idea why. “That’s, er, me. How do you know my name?”

“Any goblin worth his or her salt know all about you and your escapades.”

“My escapades?”

“Yes. Indeed.”

“Oh.”

“I’m Rebus.” He offered me his tiny hand.

I shook it. Rebus really didn’t look too pleased to see me. I had one goblin super-fan back in Coldharbour, but not in this bloke.

“Nice to meet you, Rebus.”

“What do you want?”

Talk about frosty. “I need to talk to you about—”

“The goblin murder.”

If you knew that already, why did you ask? Prick! “Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Is there any information you can give me about Roberto?”

“He was murdered.

“I know that. But, you see, he did work for us before. I don’t know if—”

“Yes, yes. I know.”

“Then—”

“What is there to say, Mr. Winter?”

“Well, anything that you think might help.” He clearly wasn’t about to let me in. “He—”

“No. Not here. I will not have this brought here.”

Keep your cool. “If you know all about me and what went down in Coldharbour, then you’ll know I was on the side of your people, that I have—”

“I know. Rose and Randy speak highly of you.”

Man, this bloke was exhausting! “Cool. Then what’s the problem? I’m not the enemy here.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“So why this treatment?”

He hesitated a moment, even stroked his beard. “I know the good you did, but I also know of the danger that follows you. Now one of mine is dead.”

“But—”

“If you’re about to give me a speech on how this is the nature of this world, then save it. I will not be condescended. All I know is that Roberto did some work for you, and now he’s dead.”

“Then what about the others who worked with him that day?”

“What about them?”

“Are they dead?”

He shook his head. “We’re looking into it.”

Oh shit. “What? Tell me.”

“This is a goblin problem. We do not require the services of Jake & Dean Investigations. You’ve done enough.”

He slammed the door in my face before I could answer.

“Rebus!” I hammered on the wood, kept a finger on the bell for at least twenty seconds.

The door wasn’t answered again.

“Bollocks!” I yelled and kicked the door. “Fucking bollockingshitfuck!”

FUCK THE GOBLIN SOCIETY KNOBHEADS. I’d try a few little green people I knew. Later, when bars and cafés might start opening again.

Poxy snow.

Freezing my nuts off, I made my way back to the office, stopping off at a bakery first, ordering myself a sausage roll (Saucijzenbroodje) and a coffee, managing to get them back without slipping again. Amazing work on my part!

Thawing out back at my desk, I called Dean.

“How rude is that!”

“Didn’t lose my rag.”

“Good, good.”

“Okay, I did kick the door, but that was it. Played it as smooth as, well, your backside.”

He laughed. “Thanks, baby.”

“I was being sarcastic. We need to get the wax out.”

“Is this revenge?”

“No, a fact.”

He laughed again.

“So what’s happening that way?”

“Still waiting on the suspect.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Going crazy.”

“Is Lars that boring?”

“I heard that!” Lars replied.

That made me chuckle.

“Just too much waiting around,” Dean answered.

“At least we ain’t out hunting that clay bastard. That would’ve seriously pissed me off.”

“Small mercies, I guess.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I’m gonna make some notes, and hold the fort.”

“Okay. Call if you need me.”

“Will do. Same to you.”

“Love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

“You two are so cute!” Lars said.

“And so not boring!” I replied.

“Why does he keep saying this, Dean?”

“He’s messing with you. Ignore him. Bye, Jake.”

“Bye.”

THE BUZZER RANG.

A new client?

I lifted the receiver of the intercom. “Hallo?”

“Hallo.” I recognised that woman’s voice. She wasn’t Dutch.

“Who is it?”

“You don’t remember me?”

I remembered within a second. Implacable accent, but probably Italian, just like her mother’s.

One half of Tessa’s surviving twin offspring.

I went to the window, opening it up to look down on the street.

There she was, short black hair, olive skin, her green eyes looking up at me, a stupid fuckin grin on her face. Standing by the edge of the canal was her twin brother, same green eyes, his black hair longer and messier, grinning just the same.

Elena and Emilio Ricci.

“Oh, you’re still alive?” I called down. “Shame.”

Her grin waivered just a little, which made me happy. “I could say the same about you.”

“What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Revenge.”

“I didn’t kill your mum.”

She looked flummoxed for a moment. “Not that, the other thing you did.”

“And what was that?”

“You brought all this upon us.”

“Oh, that old crap.”

Elena folded her arms, her brother mirroring her actions. “Crap? Yes. Pods are crap. You are crap, a heathen, nothing but a vile sinner and a sodomite.”

“Guilty!” I stuck a hand in the air.

Her grin was gone. “There’s nothing to be proud of. You are scum, Jake Winter, the doom that keeps on living.”

“And just like your dead mother, you’re fucking clueless.”

Emilio trudged forward, slipping in the snow in his anger.

I tried not to piss myself at how stupid he looked—a wobbly wannabe bad arse.

“You!” he’d taken over the bollocks talk. “You did all of this!”

“Yawn!”

“We’ll kill you! You and your family! The world—”

Let the blood boiling commence. “Make one more threat about my family and I’ll rip your throat out.”

He slammed his fists on the door, the sound reverberating through the office. Sounded like he had a mean punch on him.

Two could play at mean.

“God wants you and yours dead!”

“Does he now?”

“Yes!” the siblings replied in sync.

“Hold that thought.”

I darted up the stairs to our storage floor where we kept all the books and potions and charms and magical traps—all the fun stuff. I took a bottle of purple liquid from the shelf. It was a special concoction made by my bestie, and witch, Naomi. I didn’t have a huge supply of it, so only used it on the most deserving of knobheads.

The pounding on the door carried on.

Man, they really wanted to kill me.

Fine.

Whatever.

The coast was clear—just the twins out there in the snow. I flung the vial at them. The potion wouldn’t do any damage to anything. Not even them. An exploding potion would’ve been awesome, but I wasn’t about blow my own door in and spray their body parts everywhere, no matter how tempting that was.

A cloud of purple smoke engulfed them. Moments later, they started howling with laughter.

Ah, memories. Thank the universe for Naomi!

The smoke dissipated, revealing the hot mess of the Ricci twins.

They were laughing their heads off, bright red, panic all over their tear-stained faces. But they couldn’t stop giggling, going for it hyena style. Both of them looked up at me, clutching their chests.

“Now fuck off.” I gave them a wave as they fell, struggling to get back up.

Neither of them could answer, only try their best to run away, and doing a piss poor job at it with all the snow. I needed to kill them, go down there and stick my spear into their guts.

It took everything to resist that—a serious amount of metal energy to not go murderous. The law would be a spanner in the works. The Conclave too. It was a given these two belonged to that crazy group, just like their mother, and had featured in a few Conclave videos preaching filth, mourning their mum and really driving home the Conclave’s selling point—supes and pod-born bad, the end of magic, and all that came with it, good.

The Conclave was the biggest danger to all of us. No question. I didn’t doubt they’d try and take the reins of power at some point from the council and government. Their movement was on a terrifying up.

Knobs.

I watched Elena and Emilio scurry off like the rats they were.

Squeak, squeak, fuckers.

This was the first time since our first meeting they’d made a move on me. I’d been expecting it, waiting for the day. Now war was officially declared.

They’d get theirs again and again and again. I’d find a way to bury them so deep that maggots would never bother to snack on their rotting corpses, being so far down they were on the doorstep of Hell.

Fuck this.

I fired off the quickest text ever to Dean, telling him I was going home. The office phone started ringing, but my chest was too tight, anxiety spiked to the max. Bollocks to the caller, to anyone who had a problem. It wasn’t mine!

I stormed down the stairs, spear out, ready for a showdown. The twins had gone, not a threat right now, but their shrieking laughter still echoed down the street over the other side of the canal.

Deep breath.

I had to curb my rage, which was so hot it could melt all this white shit around me.

I knew better.

The grip of my spear had my hand throbbing. Just over the water, right there, howling in the street, easy pickings. Those twins would be dead quickly. I could end it all now.

No. It wouldn’t end. It’d just be the beginning.

I knew better.

With another deep breath, I went in the other direction—the direction of home.

SIX

DEAN

Dr. Geels appeared at the police station. She was the last person I was expecting to see.

“Hallo!” she greeted us cheerily as she strode into the cafeteria.

It didn’t look like she’d been out in the cold, but on a sunny holiday somewhere exotic. Her dark skin was glistening with a summery glow. The only give away that she was sharing the same plane of existence as the rest of the city was her big duffel coat.

“I’ve emailed you my report,” she said in Dutch, plopping a briefcase on the table.

I checked my phone for the notification. It was there, along with a text from Jake. Why hadn’t I noticed either? “Thanks.”

Jake had gone home. An incident with those Ricci twins.

“Why are you here if you’ve sent the report?” I asked.

“Your cafeteria has the best blueberry muffins,” the doctor answered. “And I like to discuss the results.”

I dialled Jake immediately.

“Hi.”

“Sorry. I didn’t notice my phone.” I got up and walked away for a bit more privacy. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just need to be at home. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Are you home now?”

“About to burst through the door. How’s things?”

“Dr. Geels just showed up at the station.”

“Why?”

“Wants to talk about the results of the autopsy on the human guy.”

“Oh. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Do you want me to come home?”

“No. Take care of business. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. Speak later.”

“Okay. Bye. Love you.”

“Love you.” He hung up.

At least he was home, that was the main thing. He was rattled, which seemed to be a common state of mind for him lately. I was too. Those wretched twins…

“Everything okay?” Lars asked as I returned to the table.

“Yes. Sorry about that.” I sat back down. “Please tell us what you know, doctor.”

Dr. Geels had found herself a blueberry muffin during the interim. She took a bite of her cake, chewing thoughtfully. For some reason, even after slicing up a dead body, she couldn’t help her craving for baked goods. “Wonderful.” She opened her briefcase to fish out some paperwork, adjusted her spectacles and began. “The victim’s name is Sander Greven. Twenty years of age. Served six months in prison for petty theft when he was nineteen. No family to contact. He died from severe trauma to the back of the skull. From his affliction, and the bruises on his cheeks, it’s very clear he was murdered by the assailant grabbing his head with both hands, driving the skull repeatedly into the ground.”

“There wasn’t much time between me opening the door and seeing Sander dead,” I said.

She nodded. “Then the killer must be pod-born, with the power of great speed and invisibility—to a degree, it seems. There were pod-traces on Sander’s neck, as well as more fingerprints. Each pattern of the print was laced with pod traces. But Sander himself is fully human.”

“So this Thomas Ark is definitely pod-born, then,” Lars cut in.

Dr. Geels nodded. “Also, there were two puncture wounds on the right side of Sander’s neck.”

That made me sit up. “Vampire marks?”

“Yes. He wasn’t a vampire, but a human servant.”

“Which means he probably works for Brem.”

“I would imagine so, yes.” She took another hearty bite of her cake.

“This really makes no sense,” Lars said. “Have you got beef with Brem?”

The relationship between the vampire mafia-type lord and us wasn’t exactly friendly, but we tried to keep out of each other’s way. Apart from an incident in December, there hadn’t any more contact with the arsehole.

“No.”

“Then why did that man come to see you?”

Ill intent? Was that it? Maybe wasn’t coming to us for help.

That theory didn’t sit right, and Thomas Ark still hadn’t been brought in.

“Anything else?” I asked.

“No. That’s the extent of it,” the doctor replied.

The information was mostly confusing and didn’t bode well. I really didn’t want to have to deal with Brem. He wouldn’t help, just aim to cause trouble, or try and trick us into working for him. The bastard liked to trap people.

“At least we have some more stuff to go on.” I made some notes in my phone. “Now we just need to talk to Thomas Ark.”

I still wanted to rule everything out and needed to get in touch with Mila. I sent her a text, seeing if she was around this evening to talk.

She was.

Officer Evi burst into the room, panting. “Oh, God!”

“What?” Lars was on his feet, hurrying over to his maybe-girlfriend. “What happened?”

She took a moment to catch her breath. “There’s been a murder and…and Thomas Ark isn’t home.”

A WOMAN’S body was impaled on a spiked fence at Vondelpark. By the face. The rest of her was slumped against the fence while the spike went up through her mouth, bursting out the back of head.

There was blood everywhere, and a lot of witnesses who’d been playing in the snow.

The consensus was this:

There’d been a scream, a woman struggling on the ground. She was thrashing violently, crying for help. But there was nothing there, not until her body started to float through the air as if being carried. And then the carrier appeared. The figure of a human man, shimmering, not quite there, held her in his arms, resisting her kicks and struggles, then yanked back her hair before driving her face down onto the fence spike. She’d died almost instantly, then the shimmering figure ran away until it vanished from sight.

I made notes while the witnesses spoke. The whole place was turning into a circus. Even in adverse weather, the media still managed to show up. A corpse skewered on a fence was more than enough to make the news.

The police were controlling the crowd, doing their best to usher them away. Lars, who seemed to be a full-time detective for the police while still not officially receiving a promotion, had officers out in the city hunting Thomas Ark. Thanks to his criminal record, there was a face to the name—actually seeing his face was going to be tricky, though.

It was safe to assume Sander Greven had been coming to Jake and I for help, if this latest killing was anything to go by. I didn’t like that he’d come to our home, but the ill intent theory was dead. He’d been stalked by this pod-born killer and been too late to escape him. The goblin was something different.

I’d forgotten to ask Jake about the goblins!

Later. It wasn’t like I could do anything about it right now, nor was there a visible link between the two incidents on our doorstep for the moment. Maybe one would come up, but I had to focus on the present.

“Another autopsy,” Dr. Geels said. “I was thinking I had a light schedule today.” Then her phone rang. “Hallo? Yes. Yes. What did you just say? Oh dear.” Her face transformed from the usual passive to one of shock. The phone slipped from between her ear and hand, disappearing into the snow.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Sander Greven is missing.”

SEVEN

JAKE

I hugged my daughter until she got fed up, smothering her in my cold, snow-covered clothes, then listened to her tell me about her spelling lessons as she hugged the radiator after our contact.

“Sorry,” I told her. “Daddy should’ve taken his coat off first. You’re just so squishable.”

She giggled. “Silly Daddy!”

Getting back to telling me about her day, she’d completely nailed the word ‘superficial’. Didn’t quite get why that word, but it was awesome all the same. I was proud of her and so happy to be home.

“Are you alright?” Sophie asked quietly.

“Yeah, just decided to come home.”

She knew there was more to it than that but left it alone.

“Glad you home, Daddy.”

I stripped off my coat and scarf. “How about some hot chocolate?”

“Yes please!”

“Cool. A quick break, then we’re getting back to it.”

“Cool, Daddy.”

I ruffled her curls. “Fancy a mug, Soph?”

“Sure.”

“To the kitchen!”

“To the kitchen!” Lou repeated, charging into the lead.

A CALMNESS HAD FALLEN over me. Not a full blanket, more like the most delicate rice paper in the world. But I was doing better than I had been, soothed by the hot chocolate and the presence of my daughter, our home a happy shell around us.

Lou was in the living room making the most of her break from her lessons, eating a ham and gouda cheese roll while watching a documentary about humans possibly moving to mars.

“I know you have a business to run,” Soph said, “but I think this is the best place for you right now.”

“Is it bad I ignored the phone?”

“Do you feel bad?”

“No.”

“There’s your answer, Jake. Your priority is your family, and they were threatened. Anyone in the same position would’ve done the same. I would have.”

Soph’s wardrobe of bright colours always cheered me up and helped with calming me down. Yellow trousers, orange jumper, pink cardigan—she was her own rainbow and I loved it. Her blonde hair was tied up in an orange ribbon, and there was even glitter on her fair cheeks.

I nodded. “But wouldn’t most people worry about whoever had made the call?”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’m a PIA. I’m supposed to care.”

“I wouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You can’t be everywhere at once, and these are extenuating circumstances. There will always be problems in the city, throughout the world.”

“Maybe I should’ve redirected the phones.”

In my desperation to get home, and seriously fuming state, I hadn’t given any of that stuff a second thought. Normally, when out of office, a call would come to our mobiles via a redirection so we wouldn’t miss a potential case, and at least give prospective clients a chance to leave a voicemail.

“See, you do care,” Soph said.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Guilt and me had a funny relationship. I had a lot of it when it came to Lou, as did Dean, but where it used to eat me up back in the day over my late ex-husband, over pretty much everything, it didn’t now. As along as the people I loved more than myself were happy and safe, that’s all I needed. Yeah, I wanted to help the people we helped, and would go all out to right a wrong or solve some crazy mystery. But I had a line. The line had been crossed this morning, so here I was.

The wards would keep Lou safe. They were hardcore, having a hardcore creator in Mila Young. Nothing better than being a physical presence, though—for reassurance.

“Do you want me to go?” Soph asked, taking a delicate sip of her cocoa.

“Not at all. Stay if you like. Unless you want to go.”

“I can stay. I enjoy the lessons.”

“Then she’ll have two teachers today.”

Soph smiled. “I think Louise would love that very much.”

“HOW DID YOU UNDERSTAND THAT, LOU?”

She’d solved an algebra problem. While my eyes had glazed over, along with my brain, my four-year-old had gone and added x and y and divided by fuck knows what.

“Shit.” I immediately got up and shoved a euro into the black box decorated with silver stars.

Lou nodded, saying nothing.

“Well done,” I added.

She gave me the thumbs up. “I love numbers.”

“You can tell Daddy doesn’t,” I replied.

“Daddy doesn’t need to. I’ll help you if you ever need me.”

“Aw, bless ya cottons.”

She grinned, loving it when I said that. “Bless your cottons, Daddy.”

“Cheers.”

Another thumbs up.

“What about this one?” Sophie suggested.

Lou returned to the coffee table, hunching over her workbook.

What a cosy way to learn, in a warm living room, all comfy and stuff.

It was snowing heavily again and it was starting to worry me. How long was this load gonna take to thaw out?

Bollocks to it. I read the math problem too. “Ah! I know this one.”

“Me too, Daddy!”

I high-fived her. “Let me see you do it.”

A boom on my front door. “What the fuck!” I yelled.

Talk about Deja vu from last night.

I was on my feet immediately.

“Daddy?”

Glancing out the window, I saw a man in the snow. Getting up, looking extremely familiar. Was he naked?

“Shit!” I hissed.

“Daddy? I’m scared.” She was in Soph’s arms.

“Wait here. I’ll be back.”

Tears rolled down my daughter’s cheeks. “It’s okay. Just wait here.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

This dickhead was going down fucking hard.

Spear in hand, I was outside, staring down my stoop at the naked body of the man I’d seen dead last night, repelled by the wards once again. He was covered in stitches where surgical instruments had cut into him, pale as a corpse, dead as a fucking doornail.

So why was he staggering towards me, his arms outstretched like a zombie?

I knew how necromancy worked. It reanimated a corpse, and you could see it happening with the purple energy present on the body, usually dancing around the head. And the necro would be nearby controlling. Also, if the body was being sent to be incinerated in Deathwell, Amsterdam, by a necromancer, as was common, the corpse would simply stroll away, take no detours, only make its way silently to the city’s necro HQ to go get its ash on.

Not this one. Where was the purple magic? Where was the necromancer?

“I wouldn’t move,” I warned. Useless talking to a dead body because—

“Help…”

—because a body didn’t talk, not even with necro power.

What. The. Fuck.

“Did you just—”

“Help…”

Necros could use dead bodies as weapons, to do things for them, but not for making conversation. Couldn’t even project their own voices through the dead mouths.

“Help…” He came a step closer.

I pointed my spear at him. “Don’t fucking move!”

My phone. I needed to—

“Help…” The man fell onto his knees, bone cracking on the clear steps of my stoop. He didn’t give one bit of reaction to the impact. “Help…”

He stayed like that, staring up at me with dead eyes.

Yes. He was dead. There was no question about it.

“Jake?” Luuk was on his doorstep. “What’s going on?”

“Do you mind popping into mine and asking Soph to come out?” I called back, needing help and not wanting to move or shout to frighten Lou. Plus, I didn’t want her left alone.

“Sure.”

We had a back route that linked our gardens—handy for emergencies and not having to use the front if need be.

Soph appeared by my side moments later.

“You seeing what I’m seeing?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Just wanted to check.”

“Help…” The man seemed more than happy on his knees. He was dead, so what would he care anyway? There was nothing inside him to give an emotional response about where his knees were. He could be on fire and he’d not notice.

He was an empty shell.

An empty shell with a voice.

Shit.

“Is there a spell you can do to check for nerco magic?”

“There is,” Soph answered. She mumbled magical words I’d never understand, being of the non-witchy persuasion, and blue energy flashed.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

The man’s skin went from dead gray to blue, back to gray.

“Help…” he said again.

Soph was thrown backwards in a sudden jolt through the partially open front door, crash-landing in my hallway.

“Shit!” I yelled, charging after her.

I slammed the door behind me. Fuck the corpse for now.

She was on her back, still consciousness, green eyes blinking up at me. “My head.”

I checked her as Luuk came bounding into the hallway, Lou on his heels.

“Sophie!” my daughter cried.

“No damage on the outside,” I said as Luuk helped her sit up. “What happened.”

Luuk’s hands were all over her, checking every inch, his pale green eyes loaded with love and concern and panic.

Lou ran at me, and I pulled her up into my arms, resting her on my hip. “We should get you to hospital, Soph.”

The witch shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“I’d rather you saw a doctor,” her husband responded.

“No, I’m—”

“Outvoted,” I said. “You need to go get checked out.”

Luuk nodded. “But what happened?”

“So much power,” she whispered. “Necromancy…like I’ve never experienced before.”

Ugh. “I was afraid you were gonna that.”

“Help…” the voice of the man came through the door. Another bang—the wards repelling him again.

“I guess I’m calling Deathwell. Get to the hospital. I’ve got this.”

“We can’t leave you,” she protested.

“Seriously, go. We’ll fall out if you don’t get checked out. I know it’s a pain to travel, but please.”

“Come on, Sophie,” her husband told her softly. “I’m worried about your head.”

“I do feel dizzy.”

I got her tangled up in this. Ah, here came some guilt. Hello, old friend. Nice to see you again. Not!

“Go,” I insisted. “Please.”

She gave in, Luuk whisking her away.

I had some necros to call.

MR. Z. NO OTHER NAME. That was it.

He wore a black turtleneck jumper, black leather trousers so tight there couldn’t be any blood reaching anything in there, shiny black shoes, and a black beret. His face was painted white, his lips rouged for the gods, and he smelled of roses.

Mr. Z.

The head of Deathwell, Amsterdam. He didn’t talk, didn’t shake hands, just let his assistant, Marie, do all the talking for him. She was a red-faced French woman, also dressed in black, cropped brown her slicked back, looking really harassed and desperate to not let it show.

Pretentious arsehole bosses would do that!

He’d write everything down on a notepad and then hand it to Marie. Even something as simple as hello!

Ugh.

We were standing outside, the dead man still on his knees, still pleading for my help. There were other necromancers, all in black, forming a half-circle around their master.

The skinny necro had just handed another piece of paper to his assistant.

Marie read from it straight away. “Mr. Z says there is great power here.”

Duh!

“An untrained skill,” she continued. “Whoever this necromancer is, they must be found.”

That was it? Stating the obvious much?

Mr. Z took the notepad and wrote some more.

For fuck’s sake! “What sort of power would he or she need to be able to do this?”

No one said anything until Mr. Z had finished writing.

This was getting on my tits! “This person isn’t in the area, we can’t see their magic, and this dead man can speak. What’s happening? Have you heard of this before?”

The necro boss handed over the paper.

I wondered how a round of having his stupid face repeatedly dunked in the snow would go down.

Lou was inside, under a blanket, watching her favourite Jupiter documentary. With Soph and Luuk gone, I had no choice to but leave her alone. I kept telling myself she was only a few feet away, that she was safe.

She was fine in herself, content, knowing I was only outside talking to some people for work. I did think she knew better than that, because this was her life. And the fact she promised not to go to the window. There was no curiosity there. She knew bad things didn’t need her eyes.

I wanted to tell all of them to take this dead man and fuck off. I kept coming close to it, but also kept biting my tongue

Shame. Would love to rattle Mr. Fucking Z!

Marie cleared her throat, her boss shooting her a disgusted glance. She shrank under his evil glare, going redder than she already was, then straightened herself up. “Mr. Z says an investigation will be conducted, and that this has happened before. There are necromancers in the world who bring voice to bodies, but they are normally only released into the open under extreme circumstances, and after years of training to suppress the power. It is a problematic skill that has no value.”

She handed the pad back to Mr. Z.

I folded my arms. “What does that mean?”

Mr. Z wrote and my patience broke.

“Do you know how annoying that is?” I blurted.

His pen paused and he gave me the same look he’d offered Marie. He wrote something down furiously, handed it to Marie.

“Mr. Z says you would do well to mind your manners if you want his help.”

“Then maybe he should—” I didn’t finish. My mouth got me in trouble a lot. Not so much nowadays, but it was still there, making shit for me. “I’m sorry. This is frustrating and this is my home. I don’t want this on my doorstep, especially with my daughter inside.”

The necromancer continued to scribble.

I needed to call Dean at some point. I hadn’t so much as texted him, which was pretty crappy. But when things were going a bit bonkers these things just slipped through the net.

I went for my phone just as another slip of paper was handed over to Marie and she started to speak, no throat clearing this time to wind her dickhead boss up.

“Necromancers with that much power have a tendency to die young. Most do, which is a tragedy. But power as potent as that is a terrible strain on the body, and there is no use for a corpse to speak. It means nothing, only a ghost harbours the true voice of the dead person. Those necromancers who are lucky to survive for some degree of time are locked away in safe houses around the world, enduring punishing physical and mental training. It is not just control over a dead body, but control at great distances. A regular necromancer does not have that ability, and being in close proximity to a corpse is commonplace and must be respected to reduce the risk of chaos. Nobody wants to see bodies walking the streets with no evident control around them. Also, this dead man speaking is the necromantic magic affecting his final desire. He wanted help. He’ll need to be taken and studied. We are constantly testing the reanimated corpses used by these types of necromancers. I will have my people contact the police should they need more access, along with you and your partner.”

“Blimey. Okay.”

“It could be that he or she has escaped from a facility,” Marie continued reading, “or that we have a new power here in Amsterdam. I will examine our records of the twenty necromancer who boast this ability, but I have not received word of a breakout. I’m leaning in the direction of a new power.”

So was I.

If only we could talk to the ghost of this guy. Way too late for that now. There isn’t a specific timeframe for a ghost remaining on this plane, but they didn’t hang about for more than an hour, and some ghosts won’t play ball if they do stay as long as that. That was why we didn’t really consult the necromancers in murder cases, and neither did the police. Only occasionally. They could only help if the ghost was there. When a ghost moved on, they left a shade—and echo—that were nothing than empty energy. In murder cases the trauma could move the victim’s ghost on quickly, as if they needed to seek the comfort of whatever lied beyond. I’d like to think I’d hang around as long as I could to get justice, but that’s not how it works, and I’m not dead. Not something for me to comment on.

What else was there left to say? “You’ll get back to me as soon as you know anything?” I asked.

Rather than write, Mr. Z nodded.

“Thank you. Is there anything else?”

He shook his head.

“Okay. Well, we have something to go on. I need to call my other half and fill him in on this.”

As if by magic, my phone rang.

“I need to take this.”

Mr. Z nodded, clicking his fingers at his necromancers to take the dead man away.

“Hey.”

“Jake? Are you okay?”

“Boy, have I got stuff to tell you.” There was something in his tone. “What’s happened?”

“That dead body, his name’s Sander…it got up and walked away. Straight out of the morgue. No one saw him walk, he—“

“He’s here,” I said.

“What?”

“I’m so sorry, Dean. There’s been drama here.” I explained everything. “I was gonna call, but you know how these things snowball.”

He was calm. “I’m coming now.”

“They’re taking Sander to the Deathwell now.”

“Get them to wait.”

“Dean—”

Mr. Z broke his cool and silent image by letting out the most ear-bursting shriek ever. I almost dropped the phone.

“Jake?”

“The head necro guy. What the fuck?”

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know.”

Why were they backing off from Sander like that?

“Jake?”

“Something wrong.”

“Be careful!” Marie yelped.

“What’s happening?”

“The—”

Sander spun round. His eyes blazing red, his hands balled into fists.

“What the—”

He lunged at me. I dropped the phone. No time to get my spear out, I swung a punch, smacking him in the centre of the face. Being dead, he didn’t register the pain, and the force hadn’t been strong enough to knock him on his arse.

Sander grabbed at me, rambling like he was speaking in tongues. Every other word was ‘help’ and he clawed at my clothes, trying to wrestle me to the ground. I kicked his legs out from under him. He went down, but grabbed my left leg, tugging hard on the denim. He was pretty strong for a corpse.

Those eyes! They weren’t his. Some fucked up demon shit. What had this super-necro done to him?

With my right foot, I kicked Sander in the face, breaking his jaw. Still didn’t stop him. He had a, well, death grip on me.

“You want to fucking do something?” I barked at the watching necros.

Mr. Z was standing right back, a hand covering his shocked mouth.

What a useless prick!

I kicked Sander again.

“The specimen!” Mr. Z shrieked. His whole image was crumbling.

“Then get it off me!”

One of the necromancers reacted and came to help. At least someone had broken out of the weird spell Sander had them all under, then another until they were all pitching in. It took four of them to get the dead guy off and restrain him.

This whole necro lark was one weird setup. I made a mental note not to approach them first for help whenever I was in a pickle.

Idiots!

Sander was dragged away, still calling for help between the rambling, still kicking and also going in for some biting. Mr. Z and Marie were still standing a few feet away, watching this poxy spectacle.

I dug into the snow, fishing out my soaked phone. Dead. Cold. Shit.

“Marie? Can I have that notepad please?” I asked, stuffing my poor phone into my jeans. I didn’t do well with keeping phones or Lord of the Rings mugs safe.

Talk about cursed! Still, I had a spare and hopefully the sim would still work.

She handed over the pad and pen, much to Mr. Z’s horror.

He really wasn’t in the place to act any way but ashamed of himself for being a total wuss. Head of the necros of Amsterdam? How did that happen?

I wrote down my email address, as well as my phone number. “We’re done here,” I handed the pad back to the harassed assistant. “Send me over any details.” I turned and headed back indoors before the prick could start writing some shitty reply.

“Vaarwel,” Marie said.

“Bye.”

I closed the door, resting my back against it, taking in some much needed deep breaths.

So fucking done.

“Daddy?”

“I’m coming, hun.”

It was twenty minutes later that the front door flew open. I leapt off the sofa, diving into the hallway, bracing myself for an attack, my mind screaming that the wards had suddenly failed, along with the necros, and Sander was back to sink his teeth into me while demanding help.

But it was Dean, panting, hands balled into fists.

The relief was better than an orgasm. “Oh my God.”

He ran to me, grabbing me in an uber bear hug. “You’re safe.”

“Yeah, fine. Are you alright?”

“Now I know you are, yes.”

“Papa!” Lou called, charging into the living room. “Papa! Papa! Papa!”

Our hug ended as Dean scooped her up. “Hello, darling.” He gave her loads of kisses on the cheek.

She giggled at every peck.

“I’ll put the kettle on,” I said.

EIGHT

DEAN

Saying the day had not gone to plan was a huge understatement.

“I’ll need to get back out there soon,” I said to Jake over a cup of coffee. “If that happened to Sander, then there’s a risk the same thing will happen to the latest victim.”

I was doing my best not to shake as I brought the cup to my lips, still reeling from my run home. I’d been a creature possessed, tearing through the snow while high on fear and adrenaline, my brain conjuring the bad things, my heart on the edge of exploding with terror that something had happened to my family.

But they were safe and sound, and I was at the table drinking coffee with the man I loved, while my daughter was busy with some new drawing at the living room coffee table.

They were okay.

Not injured.

Not dead.

Not tangled up in any of the scenarios flashing across my mind.

Jake took my free hand. “We’re fine. I promise.”

He knew all about my issues, having seen me through some really bad nights. And I hated that he did, that he’d witnessed me broken. I was supposed to be his protector, his fiancé, his rock. I needed to care for him, to shield him and Lou against the worst storms the universe could throw at us.

Being broken in the head was failing them. Even when Jake told me I was being ridiculous, that I was conjuring some unnecessary pressure to put upon myself, I couldn’t change my headspace. I loved him and Lou so much and hated my weaknesses. What man wanted to have these thoughts of his dead loved ones all the time? What kind of man was I?

A failure.

I gave his hand a squeeze. They were fine. “This is good coffee.”

“It’s the new stuff I found in the supermarket. So going back there again.”

“Please do.”

I loved the way he smiled at me. “Do you want another one before you head out?”

“No. Better not. Too much to do.”

“Shit. I’ve left it all on you.”

“You haven’t, baby.” I put the cup down and took both of his hands in mine. “You really haven’t.”

“But—”

“Please. Don’t think that.”

He went to say something, then stopped himself. I knew what it was—that I should take my own advice and not think the way I did all the time.

“I wish it was that simple,” I said.

“You knew what I was gonna say.”

“Yes.”

“Of course you did.” He sighed heavily. “I’m an insensitive dickhead.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“I wish I could take all those bad things away.”

His eyes glistened with tears. “Oh, baby. Don’t cry.” I scraped the chair closer to him, taking him in my arms.

“Sorry.”

I rubbed his back. “I’m okay, Jake. I’ll get there.” No matter how down on myself I was, I had to get there. For him and Louise, for my own sanity.

“I know. I know.” He pulled away, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper. “The state of me.”

“You could never be a state.”

“You’re cute.”

“I know.”

“And so modest.”

“That’s me, baby.”

He leaned in for a soft kiss. “Be careful in the snow. Can’t be having you breaking anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

He sniffed, sitting up straight. “When you get home tonight, I’ll pop out and start talking to goblins.”

I nodded, frustrated that Rebus hadn’t been accommodating to Jake at all, and nervous at the thought of him going out alone. The good thing was we lived close to De Wallen, which was the area he’d be covering. He wasn’t going to be branching out too far from home.

I kept my face and posture as relaxed as I could and nodded.

He kissed me again. “I’ll call Luuk in a bit, see how Soph’s doing. She seriously went down hard.”

“Let me know how she is.” I gulped back the last of my coffee. “I need to go.”

“Cool.”

“I won’t be late,” I said, stroking the side of his beautiful face with the back of my hand.

He nuzzled into my touch. “What do you want for dinner?”

“You really are husband material.”

“Aren’t you a lucky git?”

“Definitely. I don’t mind. Surprise me.”

“Done.”

We kissed again and then it was time for me to pull away, to head back out into the cold and confusion. I hugged my little girl goodbye, kissed Jake one more time because those lips were so addictive, then pulled up my collar, stepping outside as the sun broke through gray clouds.

At least there was sunshine again.

AT THE MORGUE in Bosje hospital, the woman murdered by way of fence spike had gotten up again just like Sander, attacking Dr. Geels.

The doctor was okay, calming her nerves with a coffee and a maple and pecan Danish while Lars and I stood out in the hallway watching Merel Dees, the reanimated victim, thrash on the operating table while strapped down. A white sheet was fixed over her to cover her nudity.

Things had gotten to the autopsy stage, Dr. Geels ready with her scalpel. Just as metal had touched skin, Merel had woken up, and the chaos had begun, though contained quickly.

It was just like Jake had described—red eyes, kind of speaking in tongues, savage. Her jaws kept snapping at the air as she strained against her restraints.

There was one word she spoke between the jumbled talk. “Kyler!”

I’d made a note of the name.

“A shame she’s not saying Thomas,” Lars said. “That would be more straightforward.”

“If only the world worked like that.”

The necromancers were aware of this new situation and would be here soon. At least Merel was secured in the operating room, unable to do any harm. But that also meant an examination wasn’t possible. Maybe the necromancers could help better. From the look I’d had before Merel had reanimated, I saw there were no visible puncture marks. A second look would be needed, but this probably meant she wasn’t linked to Brem.

Rather than go to Brem’s and demand to talk to him, which wasn’t the best way to play things, I’d have to go to his house and politely request an audience. Hopefully he would talk to me, otherwise I’d have to go down the route of law. One of his human servants had been murdered, so he’d have to answer questions. But hitting him with the law would rile him up, and he was an extremely difficult bastard to deal with without the added aggravation.

The door behind us opened and a small, red-faced woman walked in with six necromancers all dressed in black.

“Hallo,” she said. “My name is Marie. I am here representing Mr. Z.”

Lars greeted her first. “Is Mr. Z not coming?”

“No. He is preoccupied with the male specimen.”

Specimen? “Hallo. I’m Dean Tseng.”

She shook my hand. “Yes. I met your partner earlier. Nice to meet you.”

“You too. So, any solution to this problem?”

Marie didn’t say anything straight away, coming to stand beside me at the window, the necromancers gathering around her.

“Kyler?” Marie finally said. “Who is that?”

“Working on it,” Lars replied.

“Thomas Ark is not a registered necromancer,” Marie announced. “That doesn’t mean he isn’t one, though.”

“What about Kyler?” I responded. “Could you check that name against your database?”

“I can indeed.” Her attention was glued to Merel’s unrelenting attempts to be free, red eyes flaring with dead rage.

“Also, can you do anything about her thrashing?”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing we can do to override the magic.” She turned to face me. “It is unbreakable. Sander is completely immersed within a spell we have not encountered before. Mr. Z is trying to break through, but finding no way in. Usually, with power such as this, there is a way in, a little give to pick at. It can take hours, but that give is always there. Not in this case. There is no weakness in the magic. Not one single soft spot.”

“So this is potentially a completely new power?” I asked.

“Yes, Mr. Tseng. And that is terrifying. It means we have no idea how to deal with what this necromancer is capable of.”

Not a fun situation. “Do you have any way of tracking down this person?”

“No. We cannot find a way to lock onto the power. Usually we can use sensing runes to locate necromantic energy, but not in this case. It is nowhere—which of course is impossible as we’re seeing the results of it before our eyes at this very moment.”

“What’s the plan?”

She shook her head. “If we cannot find anything from these corpses, then they must go straight into the fires.”

“Keep us updated,” Lars added. “I’ve every faith there is a way in.”

“So do I,” Marie replied. “Mr. Z will fix this.”

Mr. Z sounded like a complete wimp when the chips were down, but maybe he worked better off the field, working his magic in the safety of Deathwell, Amsterdam.

“There’s nothing else I can do here,” I said. “I need to take care of some other things.”

One of those things would be visiting the home of Thomas Ark. The police had done their sweep, and now it was my turn.

“Sure,” Lars said. “See you later, buddy.”

BEFORE THOMAS’ house, though, I needed to head to the office.

Mila had texted me, agreeing to meet me at Jake & Dean Investigations within the hour after I’d explained the latest developments in my own message, which saved me heading down to her home in Spui. I’d gathered some evidence for her, hoping the pod traces would last until she had a chance to look at them. She’d possibly find something else on the fingerprints that I wasn’t seeing.

The snow was thawing. Just like that. It was still freezing cold, but it in the short time I’d been inside the hospital, it’d halved in size.

I sat down at my desk, checking the messages.

“Hallo, Jake and Dean,” a woman’s voice said, “this is Miss. Shoe and I’m in a bit of a situation. Someone has stolen my tomato plant. Ja, it grows in the cold weather. All weathers actually. I’ve been adding pod to some of its feed, which has given it the strength to withstand the elements and grant me such wonderful fruit. You should try one. You could if it were here. If you can help, I will not only pay you for your time, but also offer you plenty of tomatoes. Store bought will never look the same again. Thank you very much. My number is…”

Unfortunately, she was for real. We got calls like these all the time as there were plenty of idiots messing with pods. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was somewhat mutated herself from not only feeding her tomato plant with pod essence but consuming them too.

Yes, we’d pay her a visit. Yes, we’d find the tomato plant. Yes, we’d destroy it. Hopefully it hadn’t fallen into the wrong hands.

There was another message.

“This is Miss Shoe again. I still haven’t heard a response from you. How rude. What sort of business are you running when you don’t call prospective clients back? I heard you were the best, but I must have heard wrong. Deeply unprofessional and unacceptable. I’ll be taking my business to the Jansen Agency.”

She’d called this morning when Jake would have been here—when he’d left after the whole Ricci twins encounter. Fine. Let the Jansen’s have it. They were a rival PIA agency, who were idiots and unnecessarily aggressive in their competitiveness with the five other agencies in the city—including us. However, they would also get the job done. They’d destroy the plant and put Miss Shoe on a watch list for her pod misuse.

The buzzer went off and I went to the window.

Mila.

I buzzed her in and sat back down.

Footsteps on the stairs and the door opened. “Hallo to you.” She swept into the room, her pink sari billowing as if she were standing in front of a wind machine.

And she had no coat on. She never had a coat on. Ever. It could be arctic conditions and she’d still turn up in one of her saris, acting like summer was in full swing.

“How are you?” she asked, sitting down.

Mila was a highly skilled alchemist. We depended on her for potions and information, and she’d relied on us back in December when Sonny the Snake had stolen a luck charm from her.

She placed her bag on the table, pulling out a hand mirror to check herself.

“I’m fine, thanks. Yourself?”

“All is well. How are Jake and Louise?” She brought out some powdered foundation and a hand mirror, brushing some over the brown skin of her face.

“They’re good, thank you,” I replied.

“Excellent.” She snapped the mirror closed, returning the beauty tools to her bag. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m not so glad to hear about all of this drama going on.” She waved her hands dramatically, golden bangles jangling. “Dead bodies getting up, murdered goblins, invisible necromancers. Awful. I do apologise for my late response, but I had a prior commitment.”

“That’s fine. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. Now then, let’s get to it. First of all, I have my own research underway regarding invisibility potions. So far, nothing, but I am waiting to hear from a few people. As you may know, invisibility isn’t something even the nastiest of criminals are prepared to deal in. It is too unstable. Witches avoid it for the same reason.”

I nodded. “But pods are a different ball game.”

“Indeed they are. Do you have the items for me to work with?”

“I do. Let me set things up.”

From the store cupboard by Jake’s desk, I dragged out a fold-out table for her to work on. Sometimes she conducted her experiments here, rather than at her lab. I always let her decide what do. If there was a chance there’d be an explosive reaction, she’d say and move things to the lab for further investigation.

Nice and reassuring that she wouldn’t blow a hole in our building.

I laid out the evidence as she set up a rack of three vials containing powder in different shades of blue. Then she placed an ocular lens onto her right eye, which was surrounded by smaller lenses and some tiny bronze levers. She leaned closer to the petri dish containing the pod traces, then moved onto the prints.

“Hmmm.”

Mila uncorked one of the vials—the one with the lightest blue powder—and sprinkled it over the fingerprints.

“Interesting. Bring your UV light over here, Dean.”

I did as I was told. “What is it?”

“In my bag you will find another lens. Fetch it, then run your light over this.”

Again, I did as was asked and fixed the lens to my left eye. It really brought the world into an intense focus.

“How is the vision?”

“HD.”

“Good. Do you need any adjustments? If you do, push the levers on the right to make it focus better. The levers on the left will replace the larger lens with the smaller, should you need more scrutiny.”

“I think this is fine.”

“Good.” She gestured to the table. “Now look.”

The powder was glistening on the fingerprint, almost rolling across each line of print, showing me something else. There wasn’t just the fingerprint of Thomas Ark here, but a mark of purple. It was a smudge, faint and barely there. Most contraptions would have missed it, but the combination of revealing powder and this lens brought a whole new level to the investigation.

“What is that?” I asked.

“That is a signature of a necromancer—purple to match the colour of their magic. Now step back for a moment. We must ascertain if this signature belongs to the same man.”

Signatures were as notoriously hard to pin down as pod traces. In fact, they were worse. I’d never found any to use as evidence. This was like finding a spec of dust in a wind tunnel.

Mila sprinkled the next shade of blue onto the print, followed by a tiny amount of the darkest. She didn’t ask me to come closer as she bent over the table.

“This signature doesn’t belong to your suspect, Dean. Not a match.” She straightened, removing the lens.

“Then we have to find someone called Kyler.”

“Help me!” a man roared from outside. “Please help me!”

I was off, straight down the stairs and into the melting snow. He tumbled onto his front right before me, scraping his face on the exposed part of the canal pathway. His coat was ripped, exposing a pale and bloodied torso. Part of his blonde hair looked like it’d been ripped out of his scalp, leaving an angry patch of bleeding mess behind.

“Oh, thank God!” He looked up at me, chin and right cheek grazed, then he looked behind him. “Get me inside! Get me inside!”

Someone further down the canal screamed and I saw it, the shimmering figure of what looked like a man.

Thomas?

I grabbed the man by the hand and dragged him through the door.

“Please!” he screamed.

“Don’t let him—”

The figure was on us, had the guy by the ankle and yanked him out of my grip with terrifying force before I could slam the door. He flew through the air, crashing through the icy surface of the thawing water.

“Shit!”

The figure stood before me, flickering in and out of my vision.

“They always come to you.” The voice was male and slightly raspy, the language Dutch.

“Thomas?”

The figure seemed to startle, then turned and leapt into the canal. I ran after him, pausing at the edge as the water churned and splashed violently.

“Is it him?” Mila asked, arriving by my side.

“He’s in there with—”

Before I could finish, the water went from gray to crimson, then the head of the blonde man floated to the surface, eyes scrunched shut, mouth wide open in pain.

“Where is the rest of him?” Mila crouched down for a better look.

A sheet of ice a few feet away smashed open, and the shimmering figure surfaced, clambering for the edge.

I ran, making straight for the bridge to cut him off on the other side. The bastard wasn’t getting away. He was struggling, slipping every time he tried to climb out.

What to do with an invisible perpetrator? Sure, he shimmered, but he didn’t always.

Mila was right behind me, letting out a cruse about the slushy ground. I was with her on that one, slipping as I darted onto the bridge.

Thomas was still stuck. That water would be freezing cold.

“No!” A small guy cried, his face hidden inside the hood of an oversized white hoody. He was standing some feet away from the bridge on the other side of the canal. “No!”

“Get down!” I yelled, hitting the ground.

The guy had a wand in his hand. Deadly things wands, and practically forbidden unless you knew who to speak to in the darkest of markets. They could also blow you into oblivion.

A rush of pearlescent wand energy roared overhead, crackling and deadly. The boom that followed rocked the bridge beneath me. Dust and debris came crashing down on top of me. I covered me head with my hands as I was swallowed by a dust cloud.

NINE

JAKE

“Concussion, but she’s doing well. She’s with the doctor now.”

“Oh, thank fu-, God, for that,” I said to Luuk down the phone. Narrow escape from the swear box there. “When can she come home?”

“Hopefully soon. The hospital is chaotic at the moment. There are rumours that a dead body attacked a doctor. People are frightened.”

“That did happen.”

“What?”

Dean had texted me a while ago about the dead Merel attacking Dr. Geels. My sim card hadn’t been damaged by my phone’s dive into the snow, so I was back on the grid with the crappier phone I kept in my beside drawer for emergencies. Maybe I needed to have fewer fancy phones.

“It happened just before the doctor was about to perform the autopsy,” I said. “Also happened here. That Sander guy went mental, tried to attack everyone.”

“Oh, God!”

“Please be careful.”

“That’s awful! Who is doing this?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“So awful.”

“At least the snow’s melting.”

He sighed. “Too quickly.”

“Stupid weather. Anyway, how are you doing?” Poor Luuk having to see his wife go through that, and I wanted to get him away from panicking about crazy corpses.

“I’m fine. Relieved she’s awake. She’s in very good spirits.”

“That’s Soph.”

“It is. What’s happening, Jake?”

“The pieces aren’t quite fitting together yet,” I said. “Even the necros are stumped.”

“Are they zombies?”

“No, zombies are different. Doesn’t lessen the danger though, mate.” Ah, friggin’ hell! I was supposed to be reassuring the poor bloke, not making it worse. “So, yeah, hopefully you’ll be home soon.”

“You don’t need to try and change the subject, Jake. I won’t fall apart.”

“I, erm... You’re right. Sorry.”

“I’d better go. Take of yourself. See you when we get home.”

“You too. Bye, Luuk.”

He was gone.

I checked on Lou, who was busy working on some more maths.

“You okay, honey?”

“Yes, Daddy. Chillin’.”

“Great. You want a snack? A drink?”

“Could I have come milk please, Daddy?”

“You can.” I went to fetch it for her.

Rivulets of water ran down my kitchen window from the melting snow on the roof. The sun was brighter too, making the tiny rivers sparkle down the glass. I opened the back door to check the small garden space for potential flooding. The ground was soaked, but there’d be no floods. The Dutch were famous for being hardcore about drainage and stuff, which applied to every house on this street. I mean, the county was made up of land reclaimed from the sea, so the reputation was earned big time. I didn’t understand the technical bits, but there was stuff going on beneath my feet that kept my house, garden and flooring safe.

The rate of the changing weather was scary, one big fucking omen to a shit storm down the road. This was a world of increasing freaky weather events.

I hadn’t noticed it straight away on account of the brightness of the day, but over in the left corner of my garden was a yellow pod. Great. Poxy thing.

I closed the door and took the drink in to my daughter. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” she took the glass, gulping half of it down.

“You’ve got a milk moustache.”

She giggled and wiped it off with the back of her hand.

“How’s the maths coming?”

“Good, Daddy.”

I checked her work so far. “Who’s my cleaver girl?” I ruffled her curls.

“Mind the barnet.”

I loved how she picked up some of my lingo. Well, the good bits. Thank God the swear box was a deterrent for her. Not that she was old enough for pocket money, but it was there as a scary consequence. Good. I did try and behave myself with the curse words. It was one tough battle.

While she continued doing her thing, I went to the front window, my index fingers scratching my thumbs in a steady rhythm. Anxiety spiked at the pit of me. It’d been a crazy twenty-four hours.

Staring at the spot where Sander had lay dead, I tried to flood my mind with fun things. Like the coming Friday night—Valentine’s Day. Give me all the soppiness. If we could pull this off, I’d savour every mushy moment, embrace every cliché, and be so fucking happy. Yeah, so looking forward to soaking it up with my man.

Something caught my eye at the bottom of the stoop, sticking out of the snow.

I pushed my face against the glass, straining for a better look. All I did was leave a cheek mark.

“I’m just popping outside, Lou.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Nothing bad. Don’t worry.”

“Cool, Daddy.”

I took my spear anyway because only a dickhead wouldn’t. Slowly, I went down the steps, looking left and right for any potential threat. There were a few more people around now that the paths were clearing, though everything was wet and slushy and dirty and looking like total shit. Melting snow was always a bit depressing.

The thing in the snow was half buried, the exposed bit part of a hexagon. I crouched beside it, not going for a touch. It was that shade of red blood goes when its congealed. What was it? Carm…carmine, and there were purple veins running through it.

Yeah, I so wasn’t touching that without the proper equipment. Wasn’t even giving it a prod with my spear.

I called Dean, seeing if he could run something over from the office even though he’d be busy.

His phone was off.

Strange.

“Hey. It’s me. Call me.”

Might be on the phone. Maybe I should take Lou for a walk, swing by the office myself.

Hmmm…

No. She was way better off without fresh air today, staying safe behind the wards.

I tried Dean again.

Still no answer.

He never turned his phone off. I told myself again that he might be on the line to someone else, talking to Lars or something. He. Was. Busy.

Five minutes, I told myself. Yeah, I’d give him five minutes. But at the same time, that weird thing a few feet away couldn’t just sit there. We had some stuff at the house, but Dean was so much better dealing with this stuff. Like a proper detective. I was, well, the sidekick who tried to pull his weight as best he could but was much happier being the homemaker.

No, I had to check it somehow. I couldn’t always rely on Dean. We had a handheld device that could detect harmful magic. It was like Dean’s UV light, but less cool. He’d got the parts online a few weeks ago and had put it together with the help of Mila and her concoctions. In three days, they’d made a fuel for it. The pair of them should go into an inventing business together. Talk about wasted!

The detector would tell me if thing was deadly or not.

Oh, shit! What if it was a bomb or something? Fuck!

I dashed inside, retrieved the device from the kitchen.

Back outside, praying this thing wasn’t about to go off in my face, I waved the black metal pebbled-shaped detector over it, holding it by the cool metal handle.

It ran on a frequency that put magic on a scale of aggression and potency. There were two screens—one with a dial, the other with a number. A little buzz was nothing, a middle buzz worrying, a hardcore buzz meaning you should run like hell for your life. The numbers indicated the level of magic, not the danger. One being the lowest, ten being the highest.

A little buzz and a potency reading of eight. So not dangerous, but pretty powerful. What the fuck was it?

Research time. I’d fire up the laptop and run a search through the Paranormal Eyes VPN with a description of the thing to see if anything came up. I was guessing was a hexagon in shape but what I could make out. That was my best shot for now until the snow melted, and I wasn’t gonna sit around and just wait. Had to be as proactive as I could.

If I couldn’t get hold of Dean again, I’d call Mila.

I had one more, responsible thing I needed to do. Using some of Lou’s white card from the stash in her room, I wrote a warning in big red letters:

Beware! Pod! Keep away!

I grabbed a broom, stuck the sign on the top, then rested it against the stoop. Not bad for a crappy makeshift sign, and a pod warning would be enough to keep the sane people away.

I went back inside, grabbing my laptop for some searching. I typed in ‘carmine hexagonal object’. Nope. Wasn’t having it. That was all I had go on for now. What else was there to say about it? I typed in carmine objects, even charms. All that came up was a love charm, which was a pillar box red, nothing like that thing outside, and love charms were decagons. Plus, it was supposed to have a really strong strawberry scent—which wafted up into the intended lover’s face, infecting them with infatuation for the person who’d put their mark all over the charm. They sold for around eighty euros. Expensive. How the hell were these things allowed to be on the market? Man, some new regulations seriously needed to be put in place.

Okay. Not dangerous, but potent. What the bloody hell was it?

I called Dean. Still nothing. My tummy fluttered.

I tried Mila. Nothing.

I tried the office. Nothing.

Shit.

I stood by the window, watching the object, waiting for the rest of the snow to melt away, my phone almost crushed in the grip of my right hand.

ONE AGONISING HOUR LATER, my phone rang again.

It wasn’t Dean or Mila.

It was Luuk.

“You okay?”

“Jake!”

I didn’t like that greeting one bit. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Dean! He’s here. They’ve just brought him in.”

“What do you mean they’ve just brought him in? What the fuck is going on?”

“He’s at the hospital. There’s been an accident.”

TEN

JAKE

The world had slowed down the moment that word had left Luuk’s lips.

Accident.

Dean had been in accident.

The phone slipped from my hand, Lou’s voice from behind me sounding so far away. Everything was grinding to a halt.

Accident.

“Daddy?” So far away…

Accident.

“Daddy? Daddy!”

Tugging on my arm.

“Daddy! What’s wrong? Daddy! DADDY!”

Wham. Her shriek struck me like a cold slap to the face. I looked down, her scared face even more of a force for restoring my senses.

“Fuck.”

For once, she ignored my bad language, reaching for me. I picked her up and she started to cry.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” she buried her face into my shoulder, gripping me tight.

“Papa’s at the hospital. We need to go see him. Okay?” There was no point in hiding the truth, trying to put together some bollocks story. Her papa was hurt, we were going to the hospital—there was no other way to spin it. Lying to her wasn’t protecting her.

“Is he alright?”

“There’s been an accident. We need to go.”

My phone. Crap! Luuk’d been talking and I’d seized up. I bent with Lou in my arms, fishing it off the floor. No damage. One robust gadget.

I called Luuk back.

“Jake?”

“We’re heading over there now.”

“Call me when you arrive.”

“Is he okay, Luuk?”

“I can’t say for sure, there’s so much chaos. I’m trying to find him, but he was awake. I saw him awake.”

That was something. He was awake.

I could hear the chaos in the background. People were really freaked out.

“I’m calling a cab now,” I said and clicked off.

He was awake.

Accident.

“Right.” I put Lou down. “Let’s get our coats.”

The phone rang again. Unknown number. “Hallo?”

“Hallo. Is this Jake Winter?”

“Speaking.”

“I’m calling from Bosje hospital. You’re the emergency contact for Mr. Dean Tseng, correct?”

“I am. Is he okay?”

“He was involved in an accident earlier. If you come to the emergency department, you’ll be able to see him. We are extremely busy here, but reception will help.”

“Thank you. I’m on my way now.”

“I’ll let him know.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I really need to go. He’s fine. There was an incident with a wand. Just go to the emergency department.”

The phone call ended.

A fucking wand?

Oh, God!

But he was okay. Fuck knows how with a wand involved.

LOU’D BEEN SO good in the taxi—calm as anything, not even a sniffle. Sometimes I thought she was stronger than me. I’d been biting my nails, something I didn’t do anymore, on the verge of having a complete meltdown with fear over Dean.

I’d called the hospital again on the way, trying to get some more info, and got nothing but chaos and then the phone going dead. What was I expecting? There was nothing I could do but get there and see him.

He was fine. Even though something had happened with a wand, he was okay. I held onto that.

I got that a dead body attacking a doctor was terrifying, but seriously? It’s not like people weren’t aware of things that went bump in the night being a reality. Maybe I was being insensitive, frustrated that this taxi didn’t have the ability to just teleport. Plus, there was so much traffic clogging up the main road to the hospital which wasn’t helping my anxiety.

“Sorry,” the driver said. “Looks like there’s going to be a wait.”

Those vehicles weren’t going anywhere fast. How far away was the hospital. A mile? A mile and a half. Maybe two?

The driver’s radio crackled. “Hallo?”

I barley heard what the woman on the other end said.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“There’s been a crash up ahead. Ambulance crash.”

“Oh, God!”

“I know.”

“Anyone hurt?”

“I don’t know. Hope not.”

So did I, but I couldn’t wait. “Here.” I handed him some cash. “We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“Are you sure? You’re looking at two miles.”

There was my answer. “It’s fine. I need to get to the hospital as quick as possible.”

“Well, I see your point. You’re not getting there through this. Probably better walking.”

I took Lou’s hand as we exited the car.

“Come on, honey.” I picked her up and hurried along the path of slushy snow and dirt, a chorus of honking horns filling the air.

FORTY MINUTES LATER, we arrived. My whole body was hot and sweaty, my socks wet where the slush had leaked in. And carrying Lou for two miles had played heavy on my back. I didn’t give a shit, though. We’d done it, we were here.

The traffic had barely moved, the police having blocked off most of the road and only letting dribbles of vehicles through. On the other side of the road, and now some yards back, was the overturned ambulance. I didn’t stop like the people gawking to ask what’d happened. I hoped whoever had been involved was alright, but I had my own shit to deal with.

There were people everywhere outside the hospital, shouting into their phones, crying. I kept my head down, carrying Lou inside.

I tried calling Luuk and couldn’t get through, so I fired off a text to let him know we’d arrived.

The crazily busy reception area of the emergency department threatened to swallow me whole in a sea of frantic patients and people hollering at doctors, red-faced, puffed up, or full of terror. Every single member of medical staff was uber-harassed, looking ready to knock some big mouthed wanker the fuck out.

I held my daughter tighter as she whimpered. “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay.” I cradled her, pushing my way through the throngs of bodies to the desk.

All this over one reanimated corpse?

The phones were going mental. There was a man and a woman behind the desk, grabbing phones, placing people on hold, trying to deal with bark after bark from people demanding information.

There was a gap, so I made for it.

“Don’t push in!” a man hissed at me, giving me a shove and blocking the gap.

“Touch me again and I’ll break your face.”

“You talk like that in front of your little girl?”

“Tell you what, mate, don’t talk me, yeah?”

He was taller than most people in the room and looked a bit ashen. “Gladly. Just don’t push in.”

“I wasn’t. I saw a gap. Not like there’s a queue or anything.” Getting into a fight with Lou in tow wasn’t happening.

The man looked behind him, then his shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry.”

Okay, that was a shock! “You what?”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m not usually that much of an arsehole. If I scared your girl…”

“It’s fine. She’s fine. We’re trying to find her papa.”

He nodded. “I’m looking for my wife. She was brought in here. Cut herself on a kitchen knife. When I got here, there was this.” He gestured with his long arms. “It’s just…you can see for yourself.”

I nodded, not wanting to talk. Dean was here and hurt and I needed to touch him, to see his chest and see his lungs fill with air, feel his heartbeat—experience all the things that made him alive. “The body,” I answered.

“Not just one.”

“You what?”

“I heard someone shouting about all the dead people waking up.”

“Has anyone been attacked?”

“No. Not like the doctor in the morgue.”

That didn’t mean anything.

“She must’ve been a zombie,” he added.

The woman receptionist was free. “Next?”

The guy leapt into action, demanding answers about his wife.

“He’s right.” I turned to see an old woman on my left. “They’re all waking up. My friend’s husband passed away at lunch time. She was refusing to leave his side, so they’d given her some time to say goodbye. Then he sat up and said her name. That’d been his last word to her. And now he can’t stop saying it. He’s not alive, anyone can see that. But my friend is beside herself with relief, won’t let anyone into the room. Not like the nurses can spend time worrying about her when the same thing is happening all over the hospital.”

Oh, bollocks! I didn’t know what to say. I needed to get to Dean.

The tall guy had gone from being an initial prick, to ushering me into the gap. “This man was next!” he bellowed.

I looked up at him. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Then he was gone.

“Yes?” the male receptionist asked.

“I’m here to see a patient. Dean Tseng.”

“Are you family?”

“Yes.”

The man checked his computer as a woman roared in my ear about the poor service. Even though she’d almost burst my eardrum, I ignored her. Ninety percent of the crowd were doing the same.

“Go through those doors,” he pointed behind him, “and you’ll find him in bed seven, bay fifteen.”

“Thank you.”

“Next!”

I battled my way back through the sea. Generally, when people saw I had a kid in my arms, they moved out the way, keeping their frustration and aggression to a minimum. Lou hadn’t looked up, keeping her head on my shoulder, her eyes closed.

More bodies getting up? What the actual hell?

I pushed through the double doors and followed the signs to bay fifteen.

My heart almost stopped with the shock of seeing him attached to a drip, with cuts over his face, gauze on his forehead.

“Papa!”

I put her down, letting her run to his bed. It was taking me a moment to catch up, glued to the spot.

“Hi, darling.” He leaned over the side of the bed and scooped her up.

Dean was in a blue and white hospital gown. He looked so vulnerable on that bed, frail even though he wasn’t.

“Come on, Daddy!” Lou called. “Come see Papa!”

One foot did its job, then the other followed, repeating until I was by his side, me being led by their own volition.

“Hi, baby,” Dean said, his voice a little dry.

On closer look, there was more gauze on top of his head.

But he was okay. Hurt, but okay.

He reached out a hand—the one with the intravenous line inserted—and I took it.

“Dean.” Crap. My eyes were filling up.

I sat down on the bed. Lou was lying beside her papa, cuddling up to him.

“I’m alright,” he said. “I promise. Just roughed up a bit.”

I didn’t let the tears fall, managing some deep and shaky breaths to keep them at bay. This was awful seeing him like this. Memories tried to bite me, the pain from years ago when…no. They weren’t getting in. Michael had been murdered. Dean was fine. Everything was fine.

“They said…” I took another breath. “They said something happened with a wand. Did you get hit?”

“It missed me and hit the building next door to our offices.”

“What?”

“There was an attack on another human right outside the office. At least, I think he was human. It was the invisible guy again. I saw him shimmer. I tried…I tried to help the human guy.” He winced. “Shit. But he was dragged into the canal and Thomas took his hea—” He looked at Lou.

“I get the idea.”

“Anyway, Thomas was trying to get out of the canal and struggling. I went to get him. Mila was with me. As we crossed the bridge, some guy in a hoody appeared with a wand and fired. We ducked in time, but the building got hit and sent debris on top of us.”

“Oh my God!”

Lou started to cry.

“I’m okay, though,” he said. “See, Louise? Papa’s fine.”

He squeezed my hand as he kissed the top of her head.

“He’s a bad man,” Lou said, “who you talked about.”

“He is, darling.”

“Is Mila okay?” I asked.

“She’s fine too. Same as me—some facial and head lacerations, bit concussed. They want to keep an eye on me and stitch me up properly as soon as the doctor comes. But, well, there’s a delay. You must have seen it when you came in.”

“Mental.” I told him about the dead patients reanimating.

“That’s strange. Hope someone called the necromancers.”

“I’m sure they did.” I didn’t offer to call them myself. Fuck that for now. I wasn’t leaving his side. I did text Luuk again though, along with Dean’s location.

I gave my finance’s hand a soft kiss. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze in return.

Luuk appeared with Sophie, who was also dressed in a hospital gown.

“Got your text,” Luuk said. “Sorry I missed your call. Signal was weird.”

“No worries,” I replied. “How you doing, Soph?”

“Sore,” she said, leaning on her husband “but okay, thank you. This is insane. Have you heard about the other deceased patients?”

“We have,” I replied.

“The receptionist did call the necromancers,” Luuk added. “And there are police wherever a corpse is, in case of attack.”

“We were just talking about the necros. Glad the coppers are here.”

Sophie winced, sucking in air between clenched teeth.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Back started to hurt,” she answered.

Oh crap! “Not damaged is it?”

“No, just hurts. I’ll have a nasty bruise by nightfall. I can feel it.”

“We should get you back to bed,” Luuk said. “She just needed a walk around.”

“No going home anytime soon?” I asked.

“No,” Soph answered sadly. “Just like you, Dean.”

“It’s not happening in the immediate future,” my fiancé replied. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Same to you. I really need to go back to bed. My head is still a little fuzzy.”

“You rest up, Soph.”

She smiled at me, then blew a kiss to Lou. “Take care, all of you. See you back home.”

“Bye,” Luuk said.

They left the bay slowly.

“Where’s Mila?”

“Bay ten,” Dean said, “in a private room. She doesn’t want visitors. She sent a nurse to tell me she wouldn’t be seen dead in the gown, and to be sure to stay away. You know what she’s like.”

“A diva no matter what.”

“Yes.”

Our eyes locked. My beautiful Dean on a hospital bed, his face…his face. Fuck. I had to hold my shit together or I’d end up a blubbing mess. It could’ve been so much worse.

“I love you, Papa,” Lou said.

“I love you too, darling.”

That was it. I was gone. Tears tumbled down my cheeks in a hot flood.

“Don’t cry, Daddy. I love you too.”

HALF AN HOUR LATER, I’d stopped sobbing. I’d been a total disaster, unable to hold back the tears. Bloody hell! Talk about extreme waterworks!

Lars had turned up, checking on Dean. He’d had coppers out on the hunt for this Thomas guy and the hoody bloke, and was now running a check on the name Kyler, to see if it was linked to Thomas Ark. He also had the area outside our offices blocked off.

“Knew I should’ve taken annual leave,” Lars said. “I always pick the quiet weeks to be off.”

“Ain’t that a fuc—” I cleared my throat. “Annoying?”

“It is, Jake. It is.” He scratched his big red beard. “I should get going soon.”

A scream. Man, was I fed up with hearing screams this week!

A male police officer staggered into view, clutching his neck.

“Holy shit!” I leapt off the bed as Lars ran forward.

Blood was gushing through the officer’s fingers, pouring all down his blue uniform. He’d been struck on his neck.

“Shit!” Lars caught the bloke as he collapsed.

More screaming, people running down the corridor.

“I love you! I love you!” An elderly man with red eyes staggered towards Lars, blood stains all around his mouth, his arms outstretched. He was speaking in tongues, or whatever, between those three little words.

Before he could land on Lars, or the nurse who’d backed up against the wall, I cracked him with an uppercut. His teeth burst out of his mouth, his jaw twisting horribly. He actually lifted off the ground and flew backward, landing with a sickening smack.

“I love you!” he cried, trashing on his back.

“Blood hell!” I yelled. “Someone get me some rope or something!”

Lars was by my side. Though the corpse was frail, the legs actually broken, it was strong as hell, and took the two of us to finally cuff him. Another officer had joined, cuffing his ankles together.

The bitten copper had been whisked away.

Chaos rang all around. If things were mental before, then things had really spiralled now. For fuck’s sake. Other dead bodies were starting to attack all across the building. More and more police were turning up, flooding the corridors. I’d been ordered to stay in bay fifteen with Dean and Lou. Only police officers were permitted in the corridors, and no new patients were being admitted. Doctors and nurses were escorted to every bay and ward.

I could’ve offered my help, and would’ve jumped in if needed, but at the same time, my people were here, not out there. I had to protect them.

I had my spear out, never taking my eyes off the corridor.

Mila, Soph and Luuk were all okay. I’d checked.

We sat together in silence. Lou was asleep, having cried herself to exhaustion. The sun was beginning to set, blazing a golden winter light across the sky, the snow clouds having moved on completely.

All we had to do was wait this out. As soon as the go ahead was given, we were out of here.

A tall, thin male doctor came. He looked about twenty-one, black-haired and pale-faced, and pretty shaken up. A female officer waited outside, constantly checking left and right down the corridor.

“Hallo,” he greeted us. “Mr. Tseng? I’m Dr. Caris. Nice to meet you. I’m here to do your stitches.”

I introduced myself and added, “Are you sure you’re okay to do that? No offence, but you’re shaking.”

“I assure you, Mr. Winter, there’s nothing to worry about. I always have a steady hand.”

“As long as you’re sure.”

“There’s no need to worry. Your husband is in good hands.”

“Not married yet.”

“Oh. My apologies.”

“Engaged,” Dean said. “Haven’t set a date.”

“It can be tricky, can’t it? I took two years for my husband and I to pick a venue. It was worth it, though.”

He sorted his equipment. I moved Lou further down the bed so Dean could untangle himself, careful not to wake her.

Dean swung his legs off the bed, sitting up as the doctor got to work. As soon as he started threading the stitches into Dean’s forehead wound, the shaking stopped. Man, did that wound look nasty.

I took Dean’s hand. “Where did you get married?” I asked the doctor.

“Hotel Firefly.”

“Very nice.”

“It was. I suggest a spring wedding. Ours was the end of April and it was perfect weather to use their gardens—small but extremely beautiful. If you can get some decent spring weather, then you’re in for a treat.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Dean answered.

“Once I’ve done this,” Dr. Calis said, “I’ll get to work on your other wound. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until the police give the all clear before you can finally go home.”

Footsteps, then a stream of necromancers marched down the corridor. Mr. Z appeared, pausing to look at me, then moved on with Marie right behind him. She waved, I waved back.

“Finally,” I said.

“I’m glad to see them,” Dr. Calis said.

I didn’t elaborate on how much of a dick Mr. Z was.

“We must pray for everyone!” a male voice boomed.

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered. That American accent belonged to only one man.

Parker Smith/Elijah Hart arrived outside the bay. The officer shouted at him, but two women got in her face, sparking an argument. Then more followers of the Conclave filled the corridor like swarming locusts ready to feast. They actually wrestled the officer away!

What the fuck?

I was on my feet, ready to face the scum.

Parker Smith/Elijah Hart locked straight onto me, striding over. Sun-kissed face, glasses sitting on the edge of his nose, messy brown hair shorter than the last time I saw him, sporting more of a paunch—he was actually here within kicking distance. Who was he? Parker? Elijah? He’d lied to me in that book shop where we’d first met, being all weird and mysterious and friendly as Parker, when all along he was nothing but a Conclave wanker with a different name.

Right?

“Jake Winter,” he announced dramatically with his cronies in tow—two young men with snarling faces.

“Parker Smith.” I couldn’t help myself, and took joy out of the fact he clearly didn’t like me calling him that.

“As rude as you are full of sin,” he responded. “This,” he gestured at me while addressing his two followers, “is the epitome of darkness. You can already see that by the way he sits with the other man as if it were romantic love they shared.”

“Leave here immediately!” Dr. Calis barked before I could unleash. “Or I’ll have you arrested.”

“Did you see how that worked out just then?” He nodded back to where the officer had been, Conclave scum in her place. “We’re here to help.”

“By abusing my patients?”

“There’s only one I can see,” Elijah retorted.

“Get out.”

“No. We are here to provide spiritual defence. That is the best course of action when the Devil is present, when his corruption permeates everything.”

Dean had once suggested Parker and Elijah were two different people, and sometimes I did wonder if that were true. Another set of twins, maybe. This bloke was different to the one who’d shook my hand in the bookshop, therefore stealing my DNA to make that guy infected with wand crystal breach our wards at Jake & Dean Investigations and blow up. But this was the same bloke, only acting differently when he was Elijah. It did my head in not being sure of what was going on with this man. Split personality? Game playing? Something else? Or maybe he wa simply a twin to the real Parker Smith.

Ugh.

“What bollocks,” I countered. “We’ve got the police and necros. We don’t need your claptrap.”

“Is God claptrap, Jake?”

“Sinner!” the two young men yelled together. They weren’t twins—one was tall and olive-skinned with pointy features, the other short with a dark complexion and rounded face.

“Papa?” Lou stirred, sitting up.

“It’s okay,” Dean replied.

“Papa? Daddy?”

“Poor child,” Elijah said, “having to live with sodomites.”

“Get out!” Dr. Calis yelled. “I mean it!”

“I’ll break your fucking head open,” I said, stepping forward.

Elijah smirked. “The Conclave have taken control of the hospital, Jake. So I wouldn’t make threats I’ll only destroy.”

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Dean said coolly. “You put one hand on him and that’s you done. I don’t care how many of your people are here. I’ll kill you.”

He tsked, which really pissed me off. “How pathetic. Not even the police could stop us. We’re too many.”

My fingers twitched with the need to grab my spear, which was resting against the bed only inches away. “You know, we’ve dealt with men with inflated egos like you before. Didn’t end well for them.”

That smirk was still on his face. “Whatever sense of superiority you have, Jake, is lost on me. You’re not special for what you did in Coldharbour. All of the pain in this hospital is because of you.”

Dr. Calis looked a little startled by what he’d heard, but he went back to work on Dean like the pro he was.

“Just like Tessa, you know fuck all about Coldharbour. Completely misinformed.”

“Is that so? I see the evidence around me, heard all of the stories.”

How had they come to this fucked up conclusion? That was the million quid question. I’d managed to hide away from the stories of that city, all the media circus that’d surrounded it. People who knew stuff about me would never talk. But there was misinformation out there about me, some twisted version of the truth I didn’t understand, or have any knowledge of. What were the Conclave doing?

“Give up,” I said, “I’m not your poster boy for bad shit. Why don’t you go talk to the council?”

“Oh, they’re as much to blame as you.”

“Fuck off, Elijah.”

“I would advise you not to swear in front of your child.”

“Get out,” Dean warned, “now.” The doctor was almost done with him. Good on the doc for carrying on with the fixing.

Elijah ignored Dean, looking me up and down. “It’s a shame Tessa isn’t here to see how the world will change again.”

“She died a horrible death,” I said.

That wiped the smirk off his face. “You—"

“Yeah, really messy. Poor cow.”

“What an awful, sinful man you are. That creature was because of you. Her death is because of you. The sorrow and suffering of Elena and Emilio is all on you. Their reckless actions are all your fault. I know they came to you, and you hurt them with that awful laughing spell.”

Potion, not a spell. “And?”

“You will pay. In pain, in suffering, and then in death. That is what God wants.”

“Whatever. I’d go and get your information ironed out. Whoever is filling your head with crap needs a good slap. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but we do. You have cursed us by freeing—”

“Wait,” I cut him off. “Are you saying I should’ve left the city of Coldharbour to its fate?” I couldn’t help laughing. “Blimey. You really are a dumb arse.” I launched myself at him, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, rage kicking in.

His men went to move, but he lifted a hand to stop them.

“You weren’t there, you didn’t see any of it. So take your filthy lies and back the hell off.” I pressed my nose against his. “When I say you have no idea, take it.”

Dean was at my side. “Time to go, Elijah.”

The smirk was back. “Go where? I’ve already told you we’re here for spiritual defence.”

“Daddy?”

I backed off at Lou’s voice, letting go of the prick.

“Wonderful example to set your daughter.” He stepped back, the two men moving in to separate us from him. “Now we pray.”

How were we standing here, not kicking the shit out of him? Back in the day I’d have jumped straight in, tossed caution to the wind and got my hands dirty in a good old-fashioned punch up. This wasn’t back in the day. My recklessness was a dying thing, and I was glad for it, especially with Lou around. Still, you couldn’t deny a little bit of sweet temptation.

More Conclave members came into the room and they all joined hands, forming a circle around their leader.

“Dear Lord,” the prayer began from Elijah’s lips, his eyes closed. “We thank you for your strength, for your love, for all the light when the darkness swallows so many hearts and souls. Thank you for being the lighthouse, the ever kind and giving father, the blessed song for our open ears. Lord, please bestow these blessings upon those who cannot hear, for those whose hearts are closed to you. Forgive them, embrace them.” He took a breath. “Protect this hospital from the evils within, let the souls of the dead come to you. They are being denied, Lord, by the wickedness of necromancy, of magic. Let them come to you, save them. Save them.”

How much did he know about this case?

His eyes opened, looking straight at me. “Protect us in the presence of the Bringer of Doom, the evil one. His tongue is vicious, but we stand firm. The time for the blessed fire is near. He will burn, he will be cleansed from your garden like the demonic weed he is, and then the earth will be free of the pain he has wrought. Give us the strength to see this through. We will take him.”

Dean bristled beside me, the glow of his pink fae magic igniting in his curled fists.

One of the young men noticed. “Elijah!”

“He is only fae,” Elijah responded. “Stand strong. The fae are—”

Flashes of pink, then tendrils of rose light danced across the room, interconnecting, weaving a net above our heads.

Someone let out a whimper.

“God will protect you!” Elijah cried. “This fae cannot harm us.” Didn’t stop him keeping a solid lock on the weaving magic above his head. “We are full of God’s love. This creature is a demon, not from the seed of our lord.”

The net fell, smothering them. Light sliced through bodies, not hurting them, absorbing into flesh. Just like that, the prayer was broken.

Elijah blinked at me. “Jake Winter?” Then he looked around, confused, as were his dickhead followers.

But not all of them. Those unaffected by Dean’s memory magic out in the corridor came rushing in.

“Elijah!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Snap out of it?”

“We need to go to the hospital,” Elijah said. “To pray.”

The fae magic didn’t touch me or Lou—not that it’d affect me. It never had done. It’d also missed Dr. Calis.

“You are in the hospital,” a woman said to him, taking him by the shoulders. “We’re here. We have control. We can stop the badness here, show the world what we can do!” She turned to Dean. “What have you done, fae scum?”

Dean was unsteady on his feet, so I took hold of him, letting him put his weight on me. He was hurt. Using his fae power wasn’t good when he wasn’t feeling a hundred percent. Lou was right behind us, sitting on the bed, silent.

“Get out of here!” I spat.

“We’re not going anywhere. Once we take power, you’ll see, you’ll learn that we’re the real nightmare for the nightmares.”

She was British, a Birmingham accent, and her rosy skin scarred badly with what looked like knife cuts. The same on her hands. Her brown hair was scraped back into a ponytail, her features hard and pointed, her eyes an icy gray.

“I can be your nightmare,” I said. “More than you can imagine.”

“Don’t make me laugh. You’re pathetic. A heathen. Elijah is the chosen one, the true holy father. He’s bigger than any pope or bishop. He’s bigger than anything else. He is the way to God. He is touched by our lord.”

“Amen!” the followers not hit by the fae net joined her.

“Just piss off.”

“We have work to do. Don’t look so scared, Jake. We’re not ready for you yet, though you might want to watch your back. You’re not safe from a roughing up.”

“Neither are you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Are you thick? Wait, yeah, you’ve already proved that.”

She licked her thin lips. “I wouldn’t fuck with me, Jake.”

“Oh! You swore! Tut tut! Not good for you to swear, is it? Devil tongue! Devil tongue!”

“Don’t fuck with me!” She charged at me, then froze.

She wasn’t even looking at me, but behind me.

At Lou.

I turned, ready to kill this woman if she made even the tiniest hint at laying a hand on my daughter.

“Dean!”

He turned too. “Oh, God!” He almost fell over, but I steadied him.

Lou’s eyes were pure pink, her hands glowing just like her papa’s did whenever he summoned his fae magic. That magic pulsed but didn’t leave her open palms. She was as still as stone.

“Lou?”

I caught Dean looking back and forth. “Something…Jake?”

“What?” I glanced over my shoulder. “What the fuck?”

The scary woman had frozen. Literally. She wasn’t moving at all. Neither was anyone else in the room. Not even the doctor.

“Statues,” Dean said. “She’s…how is she doing this?”

Dean was half-fae, Lou’s mum was human. That made Lou a quarter fae. She’d never shown any signs of her fae side, and Dean had told me we would’ve seen something when she was a baby. The magic was there straight away in fae babies, albeit as tiny as they were.

But this…this was…I didn’t know what to think.

“Lou?” I touched her small arms. “Honey? You can stop now.”

Her head titled, her eyes not changing. “I wanted it to stop. Too much swearing and horrible things, Daddy. I want to go home.”

“We will, honey. We will.”

“Are you okay, darling?” Dean asked.

“I want it to stop. They want to hurt Daddy and you, Papa.”

Dean sat on the bed and pulled her into his lap. She was rigid, unbending, only her head tilting back and forth. “You can stop, darling. They won’t hurt us.”

To say I was flabbergasted was an understatement. Were we knobheads to not expect this, to assume that she wouldn’t have any power of her own? I mean, we were running on facts, not assumption. I didn’t know loads about the fae world, but I knew what Dean knew and his knowledge was peachy for me.

But this…

“Come on, darling,” Dean soothed, “you can stop now.”

The magic died in her hands and then she slumped against her papa, immediately snoring.

“What the fuck?” There weren’t any other words.

Dean stroked her hair as she slept. “We need to get out of here.”

I turned back to the scary woman, who was pinching the bridge of her nose, groaning.

Commotion. “Get back!” a woman’s voice boomed.

“What—”

Men in white wrestled the stunned Conclave members to the ground out in the corridor.

“Jake Winter?” Elijah said. “Where are we?”

“I said get back.” I saw the woman, brandishing a wand, dressed all in white herself.

A supernatural council solider. They wore white these days, not like the black of a few years ago, as if they were trying to prove they were a force for good, angels we could count on.

Complete bollocks on the whole, but I was glad to see them. They must be super-pissed to be involved. I mean, they should be. The Conclave wrestling control from the police like they just did? Not right. And the Conclave were a big threat to the council and government. They couldn’t be allowed to slither into power, because that’s what they were aiming for.

The soldiers overwhelmed the Conclave and had broken the police free too—who were now back to doing their job.

“Nice to see you again, Ana,” Elijah said.

“Can’t say the same for you, Elijah.” She pointed the wand in his face, the crystal buzzing with deadly power. “Try anything and I’ll blow you apart.”

“Get away from him, bitch,” the scary woman hissed.

A male solider stuck a wand in her face. She didn’t look scared at all, but still didn’t move.

“Keep your mouth shut too, Izzie.”

Izzie. I made a note of that.

“Now,” Ana said to Elijah, “what’s going to happen is this. You’ll walk out of here and keep going until I can’t see you anymore. Go home, or to wherever you waste your time, and don’t ever try and pull this shit again. Next time you do, I’ll use this wand. You know I can without any consequences.”

“God’s judgment will be your consequence,” Elijah countered.

“Will it now? Start walking.”

“Not our fault the police are pussies,” Izzie added.

“That’s enough,” the male solider said. “Walk.”

They marched but started chanting some prayers again. I didn’t listen, didn’t care. My daughter had just displayed signs of fae magic and frozen the whole room.

Another soldier took over with the wand-pointing at Elijah, and Ana came over to us.

“Ana,” she said, offering her wand-free hand.

We both shook it.

She had skin like white marble, blue eyes, and a serious expression I guessed never really left her face. Guess that came with working for the council as a solider.

“Thanks for the help,” Dean said. “Big move by them, isn’t it?”

“They’re arseholes,” she replied, “thinking they can overthrow the police like that. Those officers will need some better training to deal with these type of situations.”

“There were a lot of them,” I added.

“Doesn’t matter. We can’t have them ruling the roost. Anyway, are you both alright? Your daughter?”

“Fine,” I said. “Thanks.”

“I can escort you home if you like. Just to be safe.”

“What about the situation in the hospital?”

“The necromancers have it under control.”

I took a deep breath, needing the safety of home. “We’re ready to go home.”

“Great. Come with me.”

ELEVEN

DEAN

I sat propped up in bed, Louise between me and Jake, still snoring. I’d scanned her, checked her thoroughly. Nothing out of the ordinary. Didn’t lessen my worry for her, though. This power of hers had been a complete bolt out of the blue.

“What’re we gonan do?” Jake asked. “Who can we talk to about this?”

It had to be someone fae, but who? I didn’t want to visit Faerie, or even call my dad. But I knew it had to be my father. My power was from his blood, Louise’s mine. But the idea of it made my blood run cold.

We weren’t on the best of terms because he had no interest in being a dad or a grandad. Still, I’d need to contact him, bite the bullet and send him a letter via Faerie Post.

The sudden manifestation of my daughter’s magic was terrifying. It never happened. And for her to freeze a room like that? We had to get her seen to, in case there was more. What if there was more? What if she was a sudden leap in fae evolution, the beginning of the next stage of our species?

My head swam, the pain from my injuries an irritating reminder of what that guy in the hoody had done. I needed sleep. It’d clear my head, help me focus better.

“You look exhausted,” Jake said gently. “Let’s just not do this now.” He turned off his light and plunged the room into darkness. “Sleep, Dean. We’ll figure this out in the morning.”

I was gone before I knew it.

SUNLIGHT WOKE ME UP, glowing along the fringes of the drawn curtains.

It was Thursday.

I sat up, head still sore, cuts stinging. It was eight in the morning, and I could smell something good wafting into the room.

Jake and Louise weren’t in the bed.

I went to the bathroom to pee, which never seemed to end, pulled on my dressing gown and padded downstairs.

“Morning,” Jake said over his shoulder, busy at the stove.

“Hallo, Papa.” My daughter was swinging her legs, sat up at the table. “How you feeling?”

I took a seat next to her. “A bit sore, darling. How are you? Something smells good.”

“I decided we’re having a full English,” Jake said. “The works. Sausage, bacon, eggs, hash browns, beans, tomatoes, fried bread, toast, mushrooms.”

“A feast.”

“Yep.”

“Can’t wait.”

He blew me a kiss over his shoulder. “You looking forward to a day of rest?”

No. “Yes. At least we can still have our day,” I said to Louise.

“Ja, Papa.”

“And I’ve decided there’s no schoolwork today.”

“Yay! Really, Papa?”

“Yes. This is a day of movies and popcorn and fun.”

“Yay!”

“Ah, I’m jealous,” Jake said.

“Wish you could stay, Daddy.”

“There’s a few things I need to do first, honey. But save that movie about the talking cats and dogs for me. I’m dying to see it.”

“Will do, Daddy.”

“Thanks, Lou.”

We hadn’t discussed anything last night. “What are your plans for today?”

“We’ll have a chat after breakfast, yeah?”

“Okay.”

He popped a plate of food in front of Louise. It looked bigger than her.

“Gotta to get my carbs in,” she said, and Jake howled with laughter.

“Looks delicious,” I said.

What were these plans of his? I needed to know now but knew better than to push.

It was my turn for food. How many calories were on this plate? To hell with it. I loved a Full English, and I think we’d all earned it. He placed a coffee beside it.

“Enjoy.” He bent and kissed my cheek, then did the same to Louise.

“Are you having anything?”

“Of course.” He sat down with his own plate and a cup of tea. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Ain’t that right, Lou?”

She nodded enthusiastically while filling her mouth with baked beans.

“It’s certainly the greatest today.” I picked up my cutlery and tucked in, lost in food thoughts for a little while.

AFTER THE HEARTY MEAL, a dose of healing potion which we had stored in a bathroom cabinet, and three cups of coffee, I felt a lot better than when I’d first woke up. Now I was sitting in the living room, Jake standing by the TV.

“I got an email this morning from Mr. Z about that thing that was outside.”

I’d seen it when we’d arrived home. Ana had spotted it too and had taken it away in a protective chest, sealing it with runes. We had one back at the office, using it as a trap sometimes. I really needed to get another one for the house now. They were expensive, but worth it, and we needed to be better prepared in case anything like this happened again.

“The council found necromancy in it,” he added. “So they sent to it to Deathwell and they’re convinced it’s a charm.”

“A charm?”

“Yeah, some death charm. But wait for it. Guess what?”

“What?”

“There was one in the morgue with Merel, and with that guy killed outside our office. His name was Nick, by the way. Anyway, he was brought into the morgue too and ended up joining in the reanimation party. There was one of those charms in cold storage with him. He’d been banging to get out, even without a head.”

“Wait, what? How didn’t anyone see these charms? I was there and saw nothing on or around Merel.”

He shrugged. “It was stuck to her back.”

How was that possible? “But she was checked. That makes no sense.”

“Mr. Z is looking into it but thinks that the charm is what caused the bodies to get up and attack. With everything contained in the hospital, it had a wider effect than with Sander being outside. They reckon this new necro is leaving them behind, but not straight away—like they’re an after-effect of the magic.”

“They’re made during the reanimation?”

“That’s one theory. They also think these charms are blocking ghosts. The whole hospital was blocked out, so none of the recently dead could talk to a necro.”

“That’s incredible to have that much power. Is that wrong for me to say?”

Jake shrugged. “It kinda is, but it’s also fucking annoying.”

Charms of death. Or was that charms of reanimation? I’d never heard of anything like it. As far as I was aware, necromancy was used via a magical spell—a transference of that specific magic to the corpse which gave the necromancer dominion over the body. Most of the time it was used to get rid of bodies or talk to ghosts of the dead if they were still around.

“Really annoying,” I replied. “So, what are these things you’re doing today, baby?”

His intense cobalt eyes locked onto me for a moment, which made me squirm in my seat. It was a mixture of unnerving and sexual energy. Heat flushed to my groin. He had a ‘will he fuck me or kill me or both?’ vibe to him. It was hot most of the time. But not now. He had something to tell me.

“I’m going to Thomas’s house,” he said. “You can’t, so I will. We have to know more about him.”

“No, Jake.”

“Dean, I wouldn’t. I’m going.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“What, so for you to go is okay, but not me? I’m supposed to let you walk into danger?”

“That’s—”

“That is what you’re saying.”

I knew when I was beaten. “You’re right.”

“Look, I’ve called Lars, he’s coming with me as backup. I wouldn’t go in by myself. Anyway, the place is under surveillance, right?”

“It is.”

“He probably won’t be there,” he added, “but there might be something else. Also need to look more into Merel and Nick.”

I wasn’t happy, but he was so right. I curled my feet inward so they were tight balls in my slippers—my way of hiding my anxiety. The rest of me I kept as cool as I could muster.

“I’ll also try and talk to the goblins tonight. Kind of got lost last night.”

“I can do that if you want.”

He shook his head. “You’re staying in today. That’s an order. You need to rest up, conserve your energy for Friday.” He winked.

I smiled. “I guess I do. But I can help lighten the load.”

He bent, cupping my face in his hands and kissing me so softly on the lips. “Nope,” he breathed. “I want you here and safe. Please, Dean. Just for today, stay inside with Lou. It was supposed to be your day anyway. Let me get on with this without thinking about where you are.” He let my face go. “Promise me.”

God, the way his gentle kiss made my lips tingle. “I promise, baby.”

“Thank you. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Okay, Lou!” he called. “Daddy’s leaving in a minute.”

She bundled into the room for a cuddle.

I’d just made a promise.

A promise to do nothing.

Why did it burn my insides?

TWELVE

JAKE

I met Lars outside a two-storey house on a street a mile west of the NDSM neighbourhood in Amsterdam Noord. Of the twenty houses, ten on each side of the road, half were being used. The others were boarded up.

Police surveillance was taking place in a house behind me, coppers hidden within the unused house.

Me and Lars stood outside number nine with its peeling black door, exposing the wood beneath the paint. A few doors down, a pink pod had just blinked out of reality.

“Ready?” Lars asked and pulled out his skeleton key.

I had ours in my pocket, just in case, but I knew the copper would have his own. Perks of being in my line of work. Handy for investigations.

We entered the house, stepping into a dark and dusty hallway. It smelled of damp and cigarettes. This place hadn’t seen a feather duster in a long time. Grubby white walls were cracked, as was the ceiling. The floor was dirty wood, some of the floorboards broken. Man, it was bloody cold in here, completely unsuitable place to live in.

There was a door to my left, then one up ahead. To my right the stairs, the red carpet covering worn to hell. The third step was broken.

“I’ll start down here,” I said. I needed to check everywhere, including this hallway. The police had done their bit, now it was my turn.

Lars nodded. “I’ll scope the place while you get to work.” He had a taser out, ready for any kind of showdown.

I headed through the door on my left. A tiny kitchen met me, with dirty crockery piled high in the sink, a half-eaten loaf of bread on the worktop.

“Jake!”

I was just about to get the UV light out when Lars’s voice boomed from upstairs. I was off like a shot, leaping over the broken step as I bounded to the second floor.

Three doors on the landing, only one open. I went to it, finding Lars standing beside a double bed with his phone at his ear, and the body of a young man lying on the sheets.

It stank of sweat and dirt and…a familiar smell.

I took a step back, the room spinning, morphing into a place of pain. The cracks in the walls seemed to expand, wanting to engulf me. Something rustled under my foot.

Foil.

That smell…

It was…this was…heroin. Drugs.

“Oh, shit.”

Lars turned to me. “Be careful. There could be needles.”

The guy on the bed was a junkie. Just like I’d been…was. Recovering…always recovering. Heroin. I’d been addicted to coke, but I’d never forget the stench of heroin—that vinegary smell. All those drug pit shit holes I’d used to visit when completely off my head in those dark days had that constant stench.

I closed my eyes, letting things settle within me. That was the old me. I’d been clean for over five years now. I’d always be a recovering addict. That was the cold, hard fact. Fine. I’d rather that than be a full-swing addict. I’d never go back to that again. Ever. The smell all around me wasn’t a temptation, but a shock. I hadn’t encountered it for a fucking long time, and it’d hit me like a violent wave.

“Yes,” Lars said into his phone, “he’s breathing.”

I had this. It was a testament to my resistance that I could take a step forward, that the smell repelled me, that all it brought up was badness and sorrow—red flags of warning of paths leading to Hell and loneliness and the loss of everything I held dear. Destruction. That’s all addiction ever did and had done—almost destroying me. I was one of the lucky ones. I’d found love in dark places, I’d found the dawn of a new day, and so many reasons to live and be free.

I may always be in recovery, but I’d learnt to give my past the biggest ‘fuck you’ I could muster. None of that shit would ever touch my body again. I didn’t go about praising myself, but yay for fucking me.

I so had this.

The shock gone, the shields of steel up, I walked across the stained carpet, scanning for needles. There were some empty beer cans, even an empty condom packet.

I got a closer look at the body on the bed.

Red-haired and young, looking around eighteen or nineteen. His face was deathly pale and thin, speckled with freckles. He wore a blue hoody and ripped black jeans. There was nothing on his feet. The right sleeve of his hoody was rolled up, a needle stuck into his arm, a belt rope tied tightly to give access to a vein.

“Ambulance is on its way,” Lars said, “they—”

“No! Kyler!”

I span, startled out of my skin by the cry of a male voice.

Standing in the doorway was a shimmering figure.

Oh, bollocks!

THIRTEEN

DEAN

Uselessness. It was the worst feeling in the world.

A movie about a group of animated pirates with hearts of gold ran in the background, Louise completely engrossed, cuddled up to me and nibbling on popcorn.

I was somewhere else, staring at the screen, taking nothing in. Louise was on my mind, this new revelation. And what was I doing about it? Staying indoors, nothing but a waste of space. It was all well and good to have a movie day, and normally I’d be so happy to do that, to have this time with her. But these weren’t normal circumstances.

The Thomas Ark case too, or cases including the goblin death, was also spinning around up there, not letting me go. Too much to know, too much going on. There was nowhere for the frustration to go, so it stayed and spun and mixed together until it felt like my skull would implode.

Louise laughed. “I love this bit!”

I chuckled with her, having no idea what she was referring to on the screen.

I had to stop, to just be. I’d made a promise.

Useless.

On and on and on.

I could write the letter to my dad. Yes. I could at least start on that.

Too much to do, stuck indoors. I had to get out here and do something.

Goblins. I could help with the goblins. Now the snow as gone, I was more likely to encounter them in the cafés and restaurants. In fact, there was a chef called Ronnie I could talk to and it was completely low-risk. Bringing Louise wouldn’t be a problem. Sure, I was breaking my promise, but I already had a plan to patch over that damage.

“Louise?”

She looked up at me. “Yes, Papa?”

“Let’s go out and get Daddy a new mug.”

“But Daddy said to rest up and not go out.”

“I know, but how fun would it be to get him a new mug and see his surprised face?”

“He loves his mug. He keeps breaking them. But you promised.”

She’d heard that. “I know I did, but don’t you think he’d be so happy to have a new one?”

“He’d make a cuppa straight away ‘cos he be full of the spring joys.”

She meant ‘full of the joys of spring’—a saying Jake’s dad said a lot and she’d picked up on.

“Exactly,” I agreed. “Shall we put a big smile on his face?”

“Yeah!” She clapped. “He’ll love it so much, Papa.”

A layer of filth had formed over my skin. Not physical, but there all the same. I was manipulating her to go outside. Yes, we would get him a new mug, but that was a biproduct of my intensions, and that made me dirty.

“Get your coat, darling.”

FIRST STOP WAS Mug Boutique down in Spui.

We sat at the back of a tram, Louise loving to ride them whenever she could. She was glued to the scenery passing by.

Mila lived in Spui, but we wouldn’t be paying her a visit. She was home and refusing to have anyone see her until she was good and ready. Not that she was traumatised, but because she wasn’t in the mood to show off the cuts on her face—which were probably well on their way to vanishing with all her lotions and potions.

I wasn’t conscious about mine. Who cared? I’d rather they weren’t there, yes, but I wasn’t bothered about people looking at me. I had bigger things to worry about than vanity.

We got off at our stop and went to Mug Boutique. Outside the book shop next door was a green pod, completely blocking the entrance. The owner had put up a sandwich board next to it, informing any potential customers that they could still come into the premises through the back entrance.

I watched it glow, a still blob of radiant jelly waiting to inflict chaos on the world. The most harmless looking things always did the most damage.

Maybe not always.

We entered the shop.

“Goedemorgen,” the shopkeeper greeted us. “Back again?”

“Need a new mug,” Louise said.

“Oh, dear. Another one lost. Well, I’ll leave you to browse.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Mug Boutique was a cave of mug wonders. That was all they sold, in all sorts of designs. Pretty much anything you wanted this place would make for you.

Louise led me by the hand to the relevant section where a row of Lord of the Rings mugs sat.

“Look at this one, Papa!”

“Nice.” I picked it up. The handle was the one ring, although slightly bigger to accommodate hands.

“We should get that one,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Yay! Shall we get him two? Just in case?”

“Good idea, darling.”

I paid for both of the mugs, then exited back into the bright but chilly day. Every last scrap of snow was gone.

In the centre of the square that was Spui, a small stand had been set up. A poster was stuck to it, informing passers-by that this was a Conclave stand.

The Ricci twins stood there, beginning a preaching session. Their eyes fell to me, mouths stretching into grins at the same time as if they shared the same brain.

Anger sparked, but I held back. I had Louise with me. She was too busy looking in the Mug Boutique’s window next to me.

“Hold Papa’s hand,” I said.

From the corner of my eye I saw her look up at me. “Okay.” She laid her tiny hand in my palm.

“The Conclave welcomes all who wish to be cleansed of the sins of the world!” the twins said together, their male and female voices blending to form a powerful harmony. “It is not too late to find the love of God. He waits for you to come home, to repent magic, to pray with us. One day our Lord will remove the pods, will destroy all the magic and supernatural taints that poison so many.” A small crowd of shoppers was gathering. “If you have been sullied with an unnatural ability, come to us, deny the evil within, pray for your soul.”

“Come on, darling,” I said to her.

“Like him!” The twins pointed at me. The eyes of the gathered turned to me.

Shit.

“He is tainted with fae blood,” Elena said.

“And the sin of homosexuality,” Emilio added.

We were regressing back to some dark age. At least, we would be if this way of thinking carried on spreading the way it was. They were rotten apples in the barrel of the world, infecting one person after another. Even if some people didn’t believe all the offensive rubbish, the power of fear was incredible. Did they really think they could pray away the pods and all the things that made up our changing world? With the right kind of social engineering, a dangerous consensus could be formed.

It was already happening.

Louise’s grip on my hand tightened. “I’m scared, Papa.”

“Don’t worry, darling. They’re no one.” Was it a good idea to say that—to lie about the dangers of these two? They were Conclave, which didn’t make them no one. It made them a serious threat.

“If only he would renounce all of this,” Elena continued, “come to the side of light and goodness. God will save you, Dean Tseng. He will. You and your daughter. You live too close to the core of sin that is—”

“Why don’t you move your filth somewhere else?”

Mila. She came sweeping across the square, purple sari billowing behind her. Cuts on the face be damned, then?

“And who are you?” Emilio demanded.

“Annoyed,” she replied. “Some people would rather not hear the vitriol spilling from your mouths.”

“It’s only poison to those of—”

“Boring.”

“You—”

Mila raised a hand, her gold bangles jangling. “Enough.”

“You can’t—”

“Can’t what? Stop you? Are you going to claim freedom of speech? That you have some right to think you can use the name of God to spread hate and fear?”

“You—”

They weren’t getting a word in. “Rubbish. It is you who should fear God, not this man here, not the creatures He made in His image.”

“He did not make werewo—”

“Who did, then? If God exists, who made them?”

“The Devil!” they screamed together.

“Right. He has the power of divine creation?”

They glared at her.

“Your logic is flawed and rather pathetic. One moment it’s the Devil’s fault, the next someone else’s.” She was referring to this trend of blaming Jake. “God’s creations are varied and beautiful, and dark and terrible as much as they are wonderous. I don’t proclaim to know God’s plan, but I know it has nothing to do with you.” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the twins.

“You’d dare to speak the name of God, witch?” Elena shrieked.

“I’m not a witch.” Mila retrieved a potion vial from the folds of her sari. “Leave here at once.”

“Those who stand against the dark will never shy—”

“Oh, do be quiet!” The alchemist threw the vial of amber liquid.

Emilio yelped as it broke at his feet. Together, the twins stared down at the shattered glass and pool of liquid. But their fear soon abated when nothing happened. In that synchronised way they had, the siblings looked up with gleeful menace in their eyes.

“God protects us,” they said as one.

Mila folded her arms. “Is that so?”

The amber liquid sparkled, then let off vapours that curled up towards the twins quicker than any vapour should. Each tendril flooded every available orifice.

“What is this?” Elena gasped, her arms up in defence—as if that would do anything.

Amber spots began to appear over the olive faces of the twins, then over their hands.

Emilio yelped again.

Next, their dark hair started to streak with amber until the whole thing was smothered in a glittering brightness.

“What have you done?” Elena cried. “Stop it! Stop it!” She scratched at her collar, at her face, popping some of the boils which reformed straight away.

“It itches!” Emilio yelled. “And burns! I can’t stand it! I can’t stand it!” He was scratching himself frantically, tearing open his coat and lifting his tee. There were amber spots all over his stomach and chest, along with what looked like a pretty nasty redness for good measure.

The gathered people backed off, but not leaving the entertainment. Because that’s what it was. Even Louise let off a giggle, her grip on my hand loosening.

“They’re on my ass!” Elena roared, clawing at the back of her jeans.

“Mine too!” her brother echoed. “And on my feet!

Then the dancing began. They hopped from foot to foot, straining to scratch their backs, or stuffing their hands down their jeans to get at those spots. It was like watching a pair of drunken monkeys.

The crowd rippled with nervous laughter. Some were disgusted, though, and had been taking in every word of the hate speech.

“What have you done to them?” a woman demanded, getting up in Mila’s face, her shopping bags swinging on her wrists. “You stop this at once! They are holy people!”

“If you do not kindly back off,” Mila snapped, “you will be joining this dance.”

The woman quickly scurried away, clearly not stupid enough to start something with the alchemist.

Not that much of a defender of the holy, then.

“What have you done to them?” I asked.

“Nothing with permanent damage,” she answered. “I wanted them to experience irritation on the same level they irritate me with that filth they spew. I could hear them from my apartment, and I do not care for such behaviour in my neighbourhood.”

“Well, why should you?”

Emilio fell over the small stand, screaming as he landed on his back. His jeans were around his ankles, exposing his baggy red boxers.

“Get off the floor!” his sister bellowed.

“I can’t! Help me!”

But Elena let off a power shriek and tore off across the square, almost tripping along the way. She soon disappeared down a side street, still screaming.

“Don’t leave me!”

“Help him!” one of the sympathisers cried.

“Go ahead,” Mila said. “I cannot guarantee the infection won’t spread to you.”

“You’re a monster!”

Mila brandished another vial. “If I hear one more word of a Conclave nature, I’m setting this loose without prejudice.”

The crowd pretty much dispersed, apart from a few remaining folk who applauded.

Emilio was on his feet, jeans back up. He ran, tripped, then got back up to follow his sister into that same street.

“There,” Mila said, “peace at last. Dean, what are you doing here? You look dreadful.”

The best thing to do was just answer her question, not say she looked like hell too. “We just wanted to do a bit of shopping.”

Louise nodded her head.

“I see. Anyway, I’ve been looked at too long. I must return home.”

“Thanks for your help.”

“Of course.”

Never one to stand on ceremony, Mila swept off.

“Come on,” I told my daughter. “Let’s get out of here.”

RONNIE OWNED The Golden Leaf café not far from Jake & Dean Investigations, just beyond the main drag of the red-light district. It served a mean breakfast. If Jake’s epic feast hadn’t happened, I’d be ordering some of their famously amazing ontbijtkoek (breakfast cake) with my daughter. Well, famous amongst Jake, me, and our friends. The Golden Leaf was struggling. It was tucked away in a dark corner along a small strip of water, mere feet away from the foot traffic along the main canals. I often chatted with Ronnie whenever we paid the café a visit, and he was a tenacious goblin. Refused to move to a better spot, always stating he wasn’t breaking with his family history. His father, and his father before him had kept the business going in this exact spot, and he wouldn’t disappoint them. Trying the argument of time changing circumstances, and sometimes you just had to adapt, was pointless. He would not be moved.

Holding Louise’s hand, we crossed the tiny bridge over a water, passing under the arch of flowers around the pine door which had ornate carvings of a tree in it.

Inside, the place was like an underground wonderland. The ceiling was a tangle of roots and fairy lights, the ground solid and giving the illusion of packed earth—but really made of stone. The sunlight streamed through round windows, spotlighting some of the dark wooden booths that made up the café.

Sitting in the booth nearest to me on the right was Cherry.

“Hallo,” she said, looking up from her magazine.

“Cherry!” Louise cried, hurrying over. “You look so pretty today.”

“That’s very kind.” She gave my daughter a hug. “What are you up to?”

“We got Daddy a new mug.”

“He broke another one?” she said.

“He did,” I replied.

“Hallo, Dean.”

“Hi. You okay?”

She nodded. “Very good, thank you.”

That means she saw Victor again, but this time she wasn’t feeling so sad about things.

Cherry looked so relaxed and casual in black jeans and a red jumper, nursing a cup of coffee. Out of her work clothes she looked so different, so much fresher.

“He’ll break this one,” I added about the mug.

Cherry laughed, so did Louise. “I’m sure. He isn’t very lucky with those mugs, is he?

“So bad,” Louise said, shaking her head. “I can name the moons of Jupiter.”

“Wow. Really?”

“Ja. The ones with names.”

“All of them?”

“Yep.”

Down the far end of the café was a small bar. Well, not really a bar. That was another thing about this place—it was dry. Not one drop of booze crossed the threshold. That wasn’t a problem for us because I’d given up drinking, and Jake didn’t touch it. But I guess it was a problem for the general public. Another trick Ronnie was missing.

The goblin was over there, wiping the inside of a cup with a dishcloth.

“I need to talk to him.” I nodded towards Ronnie.

“You can leave Louise here if you want,” Cherry replied.

“Yay!”

I wiped a trace of sleep from under my little girl’s eye. “Are you sure?”

“Of course. Louise needs to tell me all about these moons.”

I smiled. “She’s a clever girl.”

“You go and talk to Ronnie. We’ll be fine here, won’t we?”

“Sure will, Papa.”

I hesitated. Even leaving the short distance of booth and bar between us made me nervous. I wasn’t supposed to be out here. It was bad enough we’d had that encounter with the Ricci twins in Spui.

“Dean?”

Ridiculous. This was The Golden Leaf. A safe space. Plus, no one ever came here apart from the loyal. Louise was fine. Everything was fine. It was Cherry, for goodness sake. Louise loved Cherry.

Her power. What if she used it again? What if someone saw?

What I needed to do was get her home before Jake found out about any of this. And what was I going to tell him? Keep the incident with the twins from him? Louise would bring it up, and I couldn’t do anymore lying.

Shit.

I had to face him. He’d understand. He always did. I didn’t make a habit out of breaking promises and he knew that.

I had to talk to Ronnie. This goblin case couldn’t keep being pushed aside. That body had been dumped on my doorstep and I had to know why.

“Thanks. I won’t be long,” I answered, getting up. “Be a good girl.”

“I will, Papa.”

“Now,” Cherry said, “tell me about these moons, Louise.”

I walked up to the bar, Ronnie still wiping a cup.

He looked up. “Oh, hallo. Wasn’t expecting you today.” He always wore a white tunic, making him look more like a dentist than a café owner, and he had cropped white hair to match.

The floor on his side of the bar was higher than on the customer side, which meant he was always on the same level whenever he stood behind it.

I took a seat on a stool. “How’s business, Ronnie?”

“Same as always.” He inspected his handiwork. “Ah, the perfect sheen.”

“Always good to have one of those.”

“It is, Dean. What can I get you?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“About what?” He lifted a green hand. “And before you speak, let me get you a drink. Can’t be having you in here without having anything. On the house.”

“No, Ronnie. No freebies. A black coffee would be good.” Even if I’d had three this morning.

“Don’t insult me. Take the freebie.”

“Ronnie—”

“In goblin culture, it is rude to refuse a gift.”

Was it? I didn’t argue. “Fine. Thank you for the generosity.”

“Anything for my best customer.” He poured some into a gleaming mug, pushing it at me. “Sugar?”

“I’m good.” I took a look at Lou, who was using her fingers to count off the moons.

“So, what do you want to talk to me about? Try the coffee.”

I did. “It’s good.”

“Good.”

“Yes, good.”

“No, that wasn’t a question. I was just saying that’s good you think it’s good.”

“Your coffee is always good, Ronnie. Anyway, let—”

“Pastry?”

“Ronnie.”

“Sorry, can’t help myself.”

“Natural born host.”

“You could say that.”

“Okay, Ronnie. Are you ready now? Want to offer me anything else? Get it out of your system now.”

“I’m good.”

“Good. Right, so have you heard about the goblin murder?”

“I knew you were going to say that.”

“You did?” I asked.

“There’s been an embargo over it all.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Rebus doesn’t want outside sources involved.”

“He doesn’t? Why not? We already have the victim’s name. It’s Roberto.”

Ronnie looked left to right, leaned in closer. “I don’t get it either. Rebus is losing the plot, I swear. He’s pulling away from everything. He wants all working goblins to quit their jobs. No idea why. Actually, I do.”

“You do?”

He scratched his green chin, backing off. “I don’t know how he’d expect us to make money if we’re not working. Is there a magical goblin money fund all of a sudden?” He chuckled at himself. “Crazy. He’s crazy. And freaked out.”

“You’re hiding something,” I countered his rambling.

He polished the cup too hard. “Crazy old Rebus. How’s the coffee? I’d better get back to work.”

“Ronnie, stop. Talk to me.”

“Busy, busy—”

“You’re not busy, Ronnie. You’re deflecting. This is me you’re talking to. Now stop and tell me what you know. Why would Rebus want you to quit your job?”

The goblin paused, not looking at me. “Not here.”

“What?”

“Not here, Dean. Someone might hear us.”

“But there’s no one here apart from Cherry and Louise.”

He shook his head. “Not here. I feel too exposed. What if someone walks in and we don’t know?”

“I think you’d know if someone walked in.”

“Dean, if you want to know, we go out the back.”

“I need to keep an eye on my daughter.”

“It’s only out the back.”

I turned to the still-reciting Louise. “I shouldn’t.”

“Then later, when you’re alone.”

This had to be now, or all of my promise-breaking was for nothing. “Fine. Let me just talk to her.”

“I’ll meet you out there.”

I slid off the stool and headed back to the booth. “Hi. How’s it going?”

“Good, Papa.”

“Amazing,” Cherry replied. “I didn’t realise Jupiter had so many moons.”

“Neither did I. Listen. Ronnie just wants to show me something out the back. Are you guys okay for five minutes?”

“Absolutely,” Cherry answered.

“Sure, Papa.”

“Five minutes.”

I left them to it. Louise wasn’t even halfway through yet anyway. It’d be good to let her finish.

Self-pacification helped the nerves like a stiff brandy sometimes.

I pushed through the swing door leading to the back, big for the human staff that used to work here before they were laid off through lack of customers to serve. Ronnie was standing by the industrial oven. The kitchen was a stark contrast to the front—all chrome and purposeful, lacking any soul. It didn’t need to be anything other than functional—Ronnie’s words. And I agreed.

“Talk to me,” I said.

He went straight in. No deflection whatsoever. “A group of goblins has gone missing. Roberto was one of them.”

This had taken an interesting turn. “That explains Rebus being paranoid.”

“Yes, paranoid. But we can’t stop living, can we?”

“No. So, do you have a list of names? Dates and times when they went missing?”

“He’s worried they’ll all end up like Roberto.” He hadn’t answered my question.

“That doesn’t need to happen,” I said. “I can help find them, stop any more deaths.”

He sighed. “I know that, Dean. But Rebus…he won’t back down. He blames you and Jake for getting those goblins involved in the clear up.”

“Sorry?”

“All of the goblins who cleaned up the mess in your offices when that poor man exploded. They’re the ones who disappeared.”

“But…why? Why would they even be involved? Goblins clear up messes all the time.”

“I don’t know, Dean. That’s all the information I have. I can…give you the names.” He shook his head. “No. I can’t do that.”

“But you just said you would.”

“I can change my mind.”

“No. You can’t.”

He cocked a brow at me. “I think I can. I’ve already said too much.”

I blocked his path. “This is ridiculous. Why all the cover up?”

“I don’t know.” He tried to move around me, getting blocked again. “Please, I need to get back out there.”

“Ronnie, talk to me. Please. Whatever you know. This won’t come back on you, I promise.”

There was that word again. Another one to break?

“I can’t, Dean. I’m sorry.”

“Please. What are you hiding?”

“You don’t know Rebus. He’s not kind. If he found out I talked to you…”

“He’d what? Kill you? That would make him a murderer too. Defeats the point, doesn’t it?”

Ronnie shook his head. “Not kill. Punish.”

“For trying to solve a case?”

“He would see it as breaking my word.”

I knew all about that this morning. “What kind of punishment?”

“It doesn’t matter to you.”

“It does, Ronnie. You’re my friend. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”

“Then don’t make me talk.”

I had to hold my hands up to that. “Okay, okay. I’ll shut up.”

“I’ve already given you enough.”

“I said I’d shut up.”

“Can I go back out there now?” he pointed behind me.

I stepped out of his way.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pausing by the door.

“I get it. Don’t worry.”

“I want the case solved too, Dean. I really do. I know you’d get it done, but I have to respect the wishes of Rebus.”

“Seriously, Ronnie, I get it.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

He wasn’t the only goblin I’d be talking to. Just the friendliest.

Ronnie pushed the door open and I went follow. “Oh,” he said.

“What?”

“Where’s your daughter?”

My heart almost stopped. “Don’t say that.”

“But where is she?”

I hurried back into the café, down to the booth to find Cherry slumped across the table and Louise gone.

“Louise?” I called. “Where are you?”

“She’s asleep,” Ronnie said.

I looked down to him, expecting to see my daughter curled up. She wasn’t. He was talking about Cherry.

He checked her pulse. “Sleeping.”

“Louise!”

No response.

“No, no, no.” I burst outside, practically tearing the door off its hinges. “Louise!” I ran back inside. “Louise! If you’re hiding, come out. It’s not funny. You’re scaring Papa.”

Silence.

“Louise! Do as you’re told!”

Shit. This wasn’t…no. She was hiding. She never ran off. Ever. She was a good girl, even for a four-year-old. Taking off was forbidden and she knew it. She was so good like that.

I darted back outside. “Louise.”

An iron fist had closed around my heart, crushing.

“Louise!”

“Dean?”

“Louise! That’s enough!” But she didn’t do things like this. Unless she did. Unless I’d misjudged her. She was a young child. No matter how brilliant her mind was, she was still a long way off maturity. All kids rebelled, did these things from time to time. She had to be hiding somewhere. This was a game of hide and seek.

“Dean!” A big boom for a little creature.

“What?”

“I sense magic on Cherry. Fae magic.”

Another iron fist burst through my chest as my senses kicked in.

There it was. Fae magic.

“Louise!”

FOURTEEN

JAKE

“Thomas,” I said, bracing myself.

“Get away from him.” His voice was raspy.

Sometimes he shimmered, sometimes he blinked away for a few seconds. So not hardcore invisibility, but good enough to allow him to bump off three people.

“Thomas, you need to calm down.”

“Get out of my house.”

Lars was by my side. “This doesn’t need to be difficult.”

Thomas moved across the room, vanished, then shimmered again by the side of the young guy on the bed.

“Kyler.” I saw his hands move up to Kyler’s terribly pale face. “I’m here. It’s Thomas. I’m here.” His transparent form leaned closer, and he planted an invisible kiss on Kyler’s cheek—the kiss of a lover.

They were together. “An ambulance has been called.”

Thomas didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry I’m late.” He stroked Kyler’s face. “I’m so sorry I didn’t answer the phone. I was taking care of Jonah and we weren’t supposed to meet here, remember?”

Jonah? What the hell? Another murder?

“It’s almost done, we’re closer to being free now.” His voice trembled. “Why did you have to do that? Why? Was it because of me? For not answering the phone? You know I love you so much. Please don’t leave me.”

Purple light pulsed outward in a ring from Kyler’s body. It cut right through me, the walls, and disappeared. Another followed a few seconds later.

“I need to get you out of here,” Thomas said.

As Lars went to make a move, Thomas had Kyler flung over his shoulder in a blur of speed and was back at the door before my brain could process what’d happened.

“You won’t touch him again.”

Holy shit. This guy was so juiced up with pod.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Thomas added, “but I will if you get in my way.”

“Thomas!” Lars yelled. “You’re under arrest. Stay where you are.”

Thomas was gone.

“Fuck!” Lars bellowed, chasing after him. “We can’t let him get away!”

We ran down the stairs, back outside, no sign of Thomas or Kyler anywhere.

Panting, I said, “Kyler overdosed.”

“And there’s been another murder,” he added. “You heard that, right?”

“I did.”

During the brief time we’d been inside the house, a yellow pod had appeared in the middle of the road.

Lars received a call as the ambulance turned into the street, blue lights flashing. I went to move, putting myself between it and the pod. That’s all we’d need—the vehicle driving into the pod.

It slowed just as Lars ended his call. “We need to go. Now. They’ve found victim number four.”

KYLER. My mind was on Kyler and his state. He wasn’t good, fully in the grip of his drug addiction, possibly dead by now.

They were together, in love. What the hell had happened to get them to this point? Who were these people being killed? What did Thomas mean by it almost being done?

We arrived at a spot near Centrale Markt, in the western area of the city. It was already a fully swinging crime scene—white tent, police tape, the whole shebang. Oh, and three tiny pink pods for good measure.

This victim’s murder was bloodless, but no less grim. His head had been twisted almost all the way round, the dark skin of his neck a twisted mess of horrid bumps to indicate a nasty break. There was also a sock stuffed into his mouth, and his eyes were bulging.

“I think you’ll find his name is Jonah,” Lars said to one of the investigators.

“How do you know that?” the woman asked.

“We just had an encounter with the killer.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Fucked, right?” I contributed.

She nodded. “This whole case is. Also, we found another of those charms. We’ve contacted the necromancers. They’re on their way.”

“Hope the ghost is still around,” I said.

THE GHOST HAD GONE by the time Mr. Z arrived.

Great.

Wicked.

Bollocks!

We were no closer to anything and it was seriously pissing me off. There was no trace of a Kyler linked to Thomas Ark. At all. No social media presence, no criminal record. Zilch.

I left the crime scene, needing a break by myself. I didn’t walk far, ducked the police tape and leant myself against a wall.

The sun was dying, the day coming to a close. Man, how fast the days get swallowed up. Seeing as there wasn’t much else for me to do, apart from maybe bang my head against this wall, I planned on going home to get to cooking up another masterpiece for my special ones.

Yeah, I needed release and happy things to stop the image of Kyler flashing across my mind, of all the things I could’ve done to help under different circumstances.

What was this? A need to help? If I were honest, I’d been thinking about this before Thomas. There were so many addicts out there, and I had a story to tell—one of hope and recovery that could help some of the lost people. But it made me feel arrogant, like I was rubbing my success in shaking the demon of addiction in the faces of those who didn’t have the same luck as me. I mean, I had Dean and Louise, I had my friends and my experiences in Coldharbour. Not that you’d call the time in that city lucky—the really dark bits—but at the same time it was because it’d been the steppingstones to the place I was in now. I’d healed there.

Maybe I was coming from a point of privilege because of the comforts I now had. But I’d had comfort before before when I’d been a model and the addiction had taken hold of me. Money and the beginnings of fame, and a husband. I was on the up, only for the lot of it to come crashing down in one big rumble of devastation. Had it all, lost it all, got back up again. Was that a story addicts wanted to hear? That they could survive the crash too? Money didn’t matter. We all had our different lives, different stories. Why couldn’t mine help trigger another chain of events to start someone on the path to recovery?

Arrogant. Yeah. It’d feel like lecturing people. But this Kyler needed help, and someone to talk to. If it weren’t for all this shit going on, and the fact that his boyfriend was a murderer, maybe I could be the shoulder he needed.

Thing is, addicts need to make the first step themselves, to accept the addiction, to want to listen.

What the hell was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just not give fuck and be all about my family? It’d be less complicated, giving me a much cleaner mind.

Aha! I did have a soul after all! And it confirmed the life-long knowledge that I was completely full of hot air most of the time. Deep down, I did give a fuck. Well, a bit of bravado never hurt anyone, did it? Actually, maybe it did. My bravado had gotten me in trouble a few times.

Jake Winter: big gob, awesome hair, and wannabe saviour of the broken.

Yeah, right. Okay, two out of three.

I so needed home time. First, I’d call ahead, check in as I loved to do, then tell Lars I was done and all the usual ‘keep me posted’ stuff.

My phone buzzed. It was Sophie.

“Hi. Are you—”

“Jake! Thank goodness!”

I didn’t like the panicked tone. “What’s wrong?” Shit! Please don’t be something bad. Obviously it was, but a man could live in hope.

“I’m at yours with Louise. She was sitting on the doorstep.”

“What? Why was she on the doorstep? What’s Dean doing?”

“He’s not here. I tried calling him but there was no answer.”

How many times in my life had I experienced the sensation of ice in my veins? No way of counting. “I’m on way now.”

Ice. So much bloody ice travelling to every corner of my body.

FIFTEEN

DEAN

A missed call from Sophie.

Not now.

I couldn’t talk now.

“Louise!”

Cherry had joined me, catching me up and fully awake again. I was too mired in fear to talk to her, but she’d told me a woman in a green cloak had come into the café, and then she’d fallen asleep.

“It was her, Dean. She did it to me.”

Fae magic. The smell of rotten flowers wafted off Cherry, the spell she’d been put under dying. It was now deliberately potent as if this fae had wanted me to know who they were without explicitly revealing themselves.

Because I’d rip them into a million pieces.

Had Louise’s power called them? That possibility was spinning. Why else would they come after a four-year-old like that?

My phone was buzzing again. Still running, I pulled it out expecting to see Sophie’s name. Maybe she’d seen Louise!

It was Jake.

Shit.

I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t lie.

“Jake—”

“I’m at home. With Lou. Interesting day you’ve both had.”

I ARRIVED home as the sun went down, full of relief that my girl was okay, but full of dread and shame too. Miraculously, I still had the carrier bag with Jake’s new mug in my hand.

I skulked up the stairs of the stoop and entered my home.

The house was quiet, too still and dark, apart from the living room light being on.

Jake was standing by the TV, arms folded across his chest.

“Hi,” I said.

He didn’t say anything.

“Where’s Louise? Is she alright?”

“Upstairs. She’s upset, rattled because she couldn’t get back to her papa.”

My mouth went completely dry at the thought of it. “What—”

“Happened? Well, some woman in a green cloak took her out of The Golden Leaf, told her she had to come because it would hurt her papa if she didn’t. Yeah, this creature had said ‘Papa’. She knew what Lou calls you.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“So,” Jake continued, “this fae woman led her down some streets, and Lou tried to get away, but the woman insisted it was dangerous to run, that she wouldn’t see you again if she didn’t take part in this secret mission.”

“I—”

Jake held up a hand. “Do you know, Dean, when she was telling me this, she was crying in a way I’d never seen before. In a proper state. Not like when she’s upset that we have to work, but utterly terrified. The worst I’ve ever seen. And she’s so brave because she believed she was helping you, that she had to do the right thing.”

My tongue had stopped working, throat closing up.

“She’s four and had to go through that.” He shook his head, his eyes glistening with tears. “Anyway, back to the story of Lou’s fun experience. Well, this bitch took her to a Faerie portal in the flower market. Yeah, Dean. She thought she was going on a trip to Faerie. And guess what? There were no guards at all.”

There should’ve been. All Faerie portals were guarded from both sides, twenty-four hours a day, with strict border controls.

“But thank fuck that trip didn’t happen.” Jake continued. “Instead, this woman told Lou that she needed something from her, to stay still.”

“What?”

“She touched Lou on the chest with a finger and something grew hot there, made the woman’s hands glow pink like Papa’s.”

“Oh shit.”

“Then the woman said they wouldn’t be going to Faerie today—again, thank fuck—but maybe some other time, and she brought Lou home, saying goodbye and leaving her on the doorstep. That was when Sophie spotted her. Not the fae woman—she didn’t see her.” A deep breath. “She was sobbing her little heart out, calling for you, for me.”

My chest was fit to crack open and release my heart onto the floor. “Cherry saw the fae,” I offered. “She was watching Louise.”

Jake shook his head. “You broke your promise.”

He was calmer than I’d thought he’d be. For now. “I know, I’m—”

“After everything that’s happened, you took our daughter outside, knowing all the bullshit that was going on. You put her at risk and you…you…broke your promise and scared the shit out of Lou and me. What were you thinking?”

“I’ll talk to her. I’ll put this right.”

“She doesn’t wanna see you. She needs rest and to…I don’t know how she’ll get over this. Fuck.”

I reached for him. “Jake, I—"

“Don’t touch me.”

“Jake.” I tried again.

“I said don’t fucking touch me! How could you do this to her?”

“Jake—”

“You sat there and lied to me, made me feel like I didn’t have to worry so much about you and Lou today. How fucking wrong I was! You’re a liar, Dean Tseng. A fucking liar.”

“I didn’t plan this straight away.”

“Straight away? What does that mean?”

“It means I couldn’t sit back and let you do all the work. I had to help, feeling like a bit of a spare part. I was going crazy knowing I couldn’t do anything. I forgot myself, and I know that’s no excuse, but I did.”

“I don’t wanna talk anymore.”

“What? You—”

“Fuck off.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Jake. You wanted to talk. Listen to me.”

“Oh, so you didn’t want to talk about this yourself? Never wanted to mention you’d been out there talking to goblins and letting Lou wander off with strangers?”

“I didn’t let her. It just…” The real firestorm was about to begin. “

“We haven’t got to the best bit, have we? Skirting around the juiciest part.” Those eyes of his were full of murder. “Even worse than some fae putting her hands on Lou. You had an encounter with the Ricci twins, didn’t you?”

In response, I reeled it all off to him. He watched me, barely taking a breath in his stony stillness.

“Jake?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the story.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“The Conclave. The fucking Conclave.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You put her in the path of the Conclave.”

“Not on purpose. You know that.”

“You bastard.”

“Jake, don’t—”

“The fucking Conclave!” he roared. “Those fucking twins! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Keep your voice down. She’ll hear.”

He did actually lower his tone, which was pretty impressive for a famous hothead like him. “I can’t believe this.”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to help. I did talk—"

“All because you wanted to feel useful?” He cut me off, not into hearing my answer at all. “That’s really your excuse to drag her outside?” His face was reddening. “Oh, my bad. You weren’t at the hospital last night, were you? You must have missed all that drama with those crazy knobheads and our daughter’s little freezing trick.”

“You don’t need to say it like that.”

“Don’t I? You seem to have memory loss. Anything could’ve happened.”

“I fucked up. I’m sorry. Don’t stand there and act like I deliberately put my daughter in danger. You know me better than that. I get you’re angry, and you should be, but to act like this was me dragging Louise into danger on purpose is unfair.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s your daughter. My mistake. What right do I—”

Now he’d seriously pissed me off. “Fuck you, Jake. When have I ever said that? When have I ever made you feel like she wasn’t yours too? Never. That’s low. So low.”

“And so is sneaking out the house.”

“I can’t talk to you anymore.”

“Then don’t. I’m done.”

“Good. Me too.”

He glared at me. “Trying to take the high road, eh?” He shook his head. “Prick.”

“Why are you talking to me like that?”

“I can say whatever the fuck I want.”

“I thought you were done.”

“I thought you were done!” Up went his volume again. “Yeah, I’m done.” He stormed out of the room and went upstairs. A door slammed, triggering Louise to call something I didn’t quite catch from her room.

I heard a door open. “All good, Lou,” Jake called. “You just chill.”

The door closed, gentler this time.

I stood in the living room for some time, empty, not knowing what to do. I should’ve been raging at the way he spoke to me, but I was just cold. I’d completely messed up and didn’t know what to do. Why couldn’t I have just stayed in and had papa and daughter day like I’d planned? I could’ve avoided this mess.

Jake hadn’t noticed the carrier bag in my hand, the Lord of the Rings mug still waiting for him inside. I’d forgotten it until the rustle of the bag reminded me.

There would be no more surprises tonight.

The portal. It became a sudden focal point as crimson mist descended.

I left the house, retrieved my motorbike from its position locked and covered beside the stoop, and tore into the night.

I ARRIVED at the flower market in record time, breaking so many speed limits I didn’t care one degree about.

Down a side alley, away from the stools selling flowers that were starting to close for the night, I saw the portal ripple, even in the dark, an upright pool slightly tinged with silver. There were two booths either side of it, small enough to accommodate a council border guard in each—both armed with a wand.

Where had they been when my daughter had been brought here?

Removing my bike helmet, I approached, and the men stepped out to greet me. The dim lights of the city and the booths barely revealed their features.

“Documentation,” the man on the left said gruffly in Dutch. Border guards were notoriously moody.

“I don’t want to cross.”

“Why you here, then?”

“For information.”

I showed him my PIA identification. The other guard looked at it too, staying quiet.

The left guard nodded. “What information?”

“Did you see a little girl brought here earlier today with a woman in a green cloak?”

“No.” He looked to his comrade, who shook his head.

“You were on shift today?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“And you saw nothing?”

“That’s what we said.”

“You’re sure?”

“Last time I checked, it was my job to notice stuff like that. No one has crossed here today. People don’t much anymore. If they do, they use the crossing at Amsterdam Centraal.”

The other guard nodded.

Amsterdam Centraal station had a new purpose-built railway to feed trade with the Summer state in Faerie, as well as tourism. Some of the best beaches were over there but going on holiday required so much paperwork it hardly seemed worth it.

“Okay. Fine. Thanks.”

That was all the information I was getting.

I really needed to write that letter to my dad.

And maybe leave this city…

SIXTEEN

JAKE

Dean had left, gone out.

For now, maybe that was for the best. I was too angry and had no intention of speaking to him again for a while, even if I did miss him being here.

What was he doing out there? What if he got himself hurt?

I was in bed, under the covers in darkness, my bedroom curtains open so I could see the moon. It was slightly soothing, but not enough to temper my fears.

A fae had taken Lou and taken something from her.

I couldn’t move, just wanted to lie down and be still and listen out for Lou in case she needed me. After Dean had left, she’d had some hot milk with turmeric and cinnamon, and fallen asleep sucking her thumb, asking where her papa had gone.

“For some fresh air,” I’d told her.

“I heard you shout at him,” she’d replied.

“Sorry you had to hear that, but I’m very cross with him.”

“Did he give you the new mug?”

“You what?”

“We got you a present.”

“You did?”

So he’d got me a me a new Lord of the Rings mug? Didn’t make a bit of difference. What I’d wanted was for him to keep his promise and keep our daughter safe.

Crap. Here came the tears, hot and stinging.

Lou hadn’t mentioned what she’d done at the hospital, and neither had I. Thinking about it upset me, which was like burying my hand in the sand. Whatever. I wanted my head there, just for tonight, maybe a while longer.

Despite her trauma, Lou was in a deep sleep. I’d checked on her ten minutes ago, before going back to being still in my bed. If I was still, the world wouldn’t spin apart around me.

SEVENTEEN

DEAN

A different part of the city, facing two more guards in a different context.

These two guards weren’t council guards, but golems—hired help to guard the house of Brem.

I hadn’t seen these guys before, all beefy and suited up in black, wearing dark shades despite it being night.

The one of the left with the white quiff said, “You wanna see the boss?”

“Please.” Well, despite the grim expression, he was a lot friendlier than the other golems I’d had to speak with here.

The other golem offered me a small smile.

Was I in some alternate dimension?

The smiler turned and went inside.

“Won’t be long,” the remaining golem said. “Cold night, eh?”

“It is.”

“Nice the snow’s pissed off, though.”

“Yes. Makes it easier to get about now.”

He nodded, saying nothing, watching the street, his head moving as if it were a camera on his wide neck and not a massive skull that’d take a sledgehammer to crack.

A few minutes later, the black door opened and Brem stepped out in a red kimono with matching slippers. I’d never seen him in anything but a suit and stiff body language before. He looked incredibly relaxed, his brown hair messy and not sculpted to perfection as usual, and his lips were an exceptional shade of scarlet, striking against his alabaster skin.

He’d just fed.

“Mr. Tseng,” he said, sandwiched between his bodyguards. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“You were?”

He pulled a cigar from seemingly from thin air, lighting it up. “No Mr. Winter tonight?”

“No. Why were you expecting me?”

“Because of Sander.”

“Right. You knew we’d need to talk to you.”

“Of course.”

“Are you willing to talk about this now?”

“Sure.”

“Out here?”

“Yes. I need the air.”

While puffing on a cigar? Bit contradictory, but his business. “That’s fine. What can you tell me about Sander?”

“He was a human servant of mine. I fed on him a few times, but I didn’t really like the way he tasted. There was something rather unpleasant about him.” He grinned, making his handsome face flood with shadow. “He took care of some business for me—courier duties. He had a bad attitude and had some unsavoury friends.”

If Jake were here, this would be the moment he’d put his foot in it. Brem was one to talk—a dodgy bastard who kept most of his business outside of Amsterdam aside from the odd thing no one could get him on. They call that not shitting on your own doorstep.

A lot of folk wanted to get him on something.

I waited as he watched me, quite obviously in no rush. I guess stuffing yourself with blood and sex resulted in contentment—just like a Sunday roast.

“A particularly odd group,” he continued. “I had the sense that they were organising a death cult of some kind.”

“A death cult?”

“Committing murder for a deity.” He blew a huge cloud of smoke into the air. If he had working lungs he’d be hacking himself to death right now. “Sander would say strange things when I fed from him, in his sleep. It is fascinating how sleep can spill some of the darkest secrets held within a human heart.”

I didn’t answer, preferring him to do all the talking.

“The night of his murder he was supposed to come and feed me. My darling Lydia and I were looking forward to a threesome with him after the feeding. No matter his dark heart, he was always rather fun in the bedroom.”

Again, I kept my mouth shut between the pauses. If I had to speak, I would.

“Alas, he didn’t show up. Now, Mr. Tseng, what is important information for your investigation is the group I spoke of. Unfortunately, I don’t know much about them, only that they used to meet in a hideout within the Metro tunnels. Highly dangerous activity if you ask me. I’d hate to go out meeting a train at full speed. Messy.” The two golems nodded in agreement.

“Do you know where?”

“I do. Near Nieuwmark. Be careful if you pay it a visit.” He winked. “What I would presume is those four murders after Sander are of those from his group.”

“Don’t you mean three?”

“Oh, did you not hear? There was another earlier today over in Centrale Markt involving some shimmering human.”

“Right.” Did Jake know about this?

“Anyway,” Brem said, “I wish you all the luck in the world.”

I didn’t buy it. Anything he said lacked sincerity, sounding more like the words of a demonic serpent.

“Thank you for your time,” I said.

“Indeed.”

I left, not looking back, feeling his eyes burning into my back until I turned off his street.

EIGHTEEN

JAKE

The front door opened, and I didn’t move. The bedside clock had just passed one. Sleep was miles away, but at least Lou was deep in it. That’s all that mattered. I hoped she was dreaming of space, of Jupiter, of the things that made her happiest.

The sounds of Dean’s footsteps coming up the stairs making me tense up all over. It’d been a while since we’d argued. It never really happened because what was the point in fighting? A waste of energy and time that could be better spent.

But he’d messed up massively. He’d put Louise in danger and broken the promise he’d made.

He went into the bathroom. I waited, listening, expecting him to go into the study or back downstairs. He wouldn’t come in here. Not tonight. For the first time since we’d officially become a couple, we’d never slept apart. Even when one of us was sick.

Fuck.

I didn’t realise having one night in separate beds would sting like this.

Fuck.

But he didn’t go downstairs or into the study. The bedroom door opened, closed gently, and he crept to the bed.

I listed to the rustle of his clothes being removed, of his light breaths. Within my anger was happiness at his weight dipping the bed beside me.

He didn’t lay down. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve stayed home. I wish there was something I could do to make it better.”

I didn’t react.

“I love you and Louise so much. You have no idea. You might think you do, but you don’t. I’ll put things right with you, I promise. That’s one I’ll keep.”

At my silence, he spread out, adjusting his position to get comfortable—his back to me, only inches away from my spine.

The threads of anger weakened. I rolled over. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

He immediately rolled over to face me in the dark, the moonlight painting his face with silver and shadows. “You’re awake.”

“I know you’d never do these things on purpose. I just…I just don’t…I need to get over it, you know?”

He reached for me, placing his palm on the side of my head. It was so warm, so safe and reassuring. There was no repel in me now, like when I’d raged at him. His touch was so bloody welcome.

“I’m so scared, Dean. What’s happening with our girl?”

“We’ll figure it out. I’m going to contact my dad.”

“You are?”

“I have to. He might be able to help.” His thumb stroked the tip of my ear.

“I don’t wanna fight,” I said.

“You have every right to be angry, Jake.”

“I know, and I am. But I don’t have the right to speak to you like that.”

“How else are you supposed to react?”

“I don’t know.”

He shuffled closer. “Don’t hate me, Jake.”

“Why would I hate you?”

“I saw so much disappointment in your eyes. I never want that again.”

“But that doesn’t mean hate. Just means you’re a dickhead.”

He smiled. “It does.”

“Where did you go?”

“I went to the Faerie portal to talk to the guards.”

“What did they say?”

His hand moved down to my bare shoulder. “They didn’t see anything.”

“Dodgy fae tricks.”

“I spoke to Brem too.”

I suppressed a gasp. “You went to him alone?”

“I had to do something, Jake.”

That was how his mind worked, I knew. “Dangerous, though. Probably not as bad as when I’m with you.”

He laughed lightly. “It was drama-free.”

“Rude!”

“Truth hurts, I guess.”

“Double rude.”

Those threads of anger were breaking. Life was too short to hold onto it, to let it rot. Yeah, I’d need to fully get over it for it to completely fall away, but I didn’t wanna waste my life holding on to negativity. Dean was not a deceitful man. He made a bad decision for a good reason. Now the rage had died down, I was coming back to my senses piece by piece.

“What did Brem say?” I asked.

He told me. “Interesting. I’ve got some stuff to tell you too.”

I explained the stuff about Thomas and Kyler and the new murder. We’d not had a chance to get to any of it, the latest saga having pushed it out of my mind.

“Are you okay after seeing that?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I’m really fine. I just don’t know what to do next. How are we supposed to track them down? I doubt they’ll ever go back to Thomas’s again. Anyway, Thomas said to Kyler they weren’t supposed to meet there.”

“We need to talk to Lars tomorrow, and then see if we can get any more information about those death charms.”

I reached for him, my turn to rest my palm on his cheek.

“Jake…” he whispered.

I rolled over, suddenly on top of him, my body reacting to the need of him. He looked up at me with surprise, and I kissed him. Our tongues and lips writhed as his hands slid into my hair, then down my arms before moving to my back. His fingers traced my skin, drawing circles all the way was down to my arse.

I moaned softly as his fingers teased the band of my boxers. “Fuck me,” I demanded.

To hell with this shit. A fire burst to life. No slow sex, no gentle. I wanted it hard and fast and sweaty, for that fire to burn everything down.

I broke our kiss, stretching over to the bedside cabinet to retrieve the lube from the drawer. He pushed himself up to reach my neck with kisses. That delicious cock of his was pressing against my belly, only his boxers between my skin and the pierced tip.

First things first, I removed my underwear, then pulled his off, moving with determined speed.

“Jake…” he breathed.

I kissed him again, grinding my arse against him, the metal ring brushing against my crevice in teasing strokes.

Tongues and lips, the intensity of our kissing going up some notches. His hands went everywhere. He slapped my backside and my cock pulsed with need.

I grabbed his face. “Fuck me, Dean.”

I got off him, rolling onto all fours.

“Oh, baby.” A cool finger, slick with lube, slid into me.

God, I needed this.

“You want me to fuck you, Jake?” He slapped me again, inserting another finger.

“Own it. Fucking own it.”

Another slap. “This arse is mine.”

He removed his fingers, and within seconds his pierced erection thrust deep into me.

There was no slowness, no making love. Just pure fucking. His thrusts came hard and fast, that ring of his striking my sweet spot over and over again. The sounds of flesh slapping on flesh chorused around the room, joined by my moans, his grunts of pleasure as he well and truly owned my arse.

I straightened, turning my head for his mouth. He met it, pounding me deeper, a hand going to my cock. I slid my arm behind his head as his lips moved to my neck, sucking and nipping as he worked.

I fell forward. His hands gripped my waist. I looked behind me, watching as he angled himself up so he was on one knee, pushing himself deeper into me. I liked to watch him, the moonlight casting shadows over his nakedness, the light glinting in his dark eyes.

He went for it on the last stretch, pounding me as I worked my dick. I came first, clawing at the bedsheets with my free hand as he pumped his way to climax, filling me up with his sweet heat.

Dean collapsed on top of me, flattening me to the bed, panting and sweaty. He kissed my neck again, cock still inside me.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you, Dean.”

IT DIDN’T MATTER how late it was. It didn’t stop us from lying in the bath together, my back against his chest, his arms around me beneath the bubbles.

Steam curled upward in the candlelight, the sweet aroma of oranges and cinnamon wafting up from the hot water.

“This is our Valentine’s moment,” he said. “Technically it is the big day.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thank God you didn’t tear your stitches.”

“By tearing you up like that?”

“Yeah, man.”

“All good on the shagging front.”

“Good to know.”

I loved this transition. Animal fucking to tenderness in the bath. That shag had been the need of that moment, now this softness was the need of this one.

We’d both agreed to not have a Valentine’s dinner during sociable hours later today. We’d have a family dinner instead. This was our romantic time, like he’d said, and we’d actually managed to do it on Valentine’s Day.

He’d gone all out. Candles, rose petals over the bathroom floor, glasses of some fizzy pear and apple drink to make up for no champagne. It was gone two in the morning but who gave a fuck? Not me. I knew how to take good shit when it presented itself to be grabbed.

I wasn’t mad anymore. Okay, I was a bit, but fully embracing romance too. This was his way of making things right with me. Lou would be next.

“Can we stay like this forever?” I asked.

“You want to be a prune?”

“Maybe not forever, then, but let’s not hurry. Screw sleep.”

He kissed my neck again. Man, I loved him planting one there. “I’d rather screw you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He wrapped his arms and legs tighter around me. We didn’t have the biggest bath in the world, but it was enough for us to have snuggle time in.

“By the way,” I said, “I think you have a little something for me.”

“I wouldn’t call it little.” He pushed his hardness against me.

“Oh, round two?”

“I’ll go as many rounds as you want.”

“What a charmer. Hold the sausage for a moment, I was talking about something else.”

“Did you just say hold the sausage?”

“Go with it, treacle. Now, have a think. It’s hard…oh, God.”

He chuckled. “Right. Go on.”

“You can drink from it.”

“You’re so dirty.”

“There’s a ring…” I threw that one in deliberately. Why not embrace the dirty talk?

“And it’s poking you in the back. Ding! Ding! Ding!”

“You horny bastard! You know what I’m talking out.”

“Yes, we’ve established this.”

“The mug.”

Another kiss on my neck. “I know, baby.” He sighed. “It was a…shit.”

“What?”

“My way of getting us out of the house. I told Louise we’d go get you a new mug.” His dick was softening. “You’re going to hate me again. It was manipulative, but it wasn’t like I didn’t genuinely want to get you a new one at some point.”

“Stop saying hate.”

“Well, I manipulated our daughter into leaving the house. I’m sorry. I wasn’t keeping it from you, I was going to tell you. Just so much was going on and—”

“Stop it, Dean. Lou already told me, so I kind of worked that out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t wanna go back to that,” I said. “I don’t wanna be angry. You’re not a bad person, and you did what you did because you felt like you had to. Okay, let’s put it this way. You fucked up. Fine. Once is bad enough. You do it again, and I’m putting your bollocks in the blender. Got it?”

“Ouch! Heard you loud and clear!”

“And, as part of these new conditions, you’re staying home tomorrow. We both are, but if something comes up then I’m the one doing the work. In fact, I’m going to leave you two alone as much as I can. You need quality time. Okay?”

“Okay. I’m so doing as I’m told.”

“I know you are. Also, you have a lot of making up to do with Lou. I know you know that, but I’ve got to follow this authoritative shit through.”

“It’s sexy.”

His dick was back up again.

“I’m trying to lecture you here.”

“I know, and it’s sinking in deeper than you know, baby. It really is. That’s a shit version of parenting I put out there.”

“It was. But now is the time to shovel the shit…can we not go down the shit road?”

“The shit road? Sounds gross.”

“There used to be an alleyway near my mum and dad’s house called Dog Shit Alley.”

“Nice.”

“Worse in the summer because of the stink. Annoying because it was a handy shortcut.”

“I think I’m losing my hard on again thinking about this wonderful alley.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry, moving away from the shit talk. Let me stuff my face with something else to make sure I’m really silenced.”

“Now I like the sound of that!”

NINETEEN

DEAN

As I woke up to the sound of knocking, I could still taste Jake’s forgiveness on my lips.

Jake was asleep beside me, curled up into a ball under the covers, so beautiful, so amazing, even if he was snoring.

I didn’t deserve his forgiveness. By rights, he should’ve put me in the deepest parts of the freezer. But he hadn’t because he was an incredible man, and I wouldn’t take any of it for granted.

This was the truest love.

The knocking continued. The bedside clock read 10:30.

Oh, wow. We hadn’t slept this late in ages.

“Come in,” I said.

The door opened and Louise entered, her hair a wild mess, her thumb in her mouth.

“Have you just got up.”

She nodded.

“Come see Papa.”

I was expecting her to hesitate, but she didn’t. She padded across the room to my side of the bed, and I scooped her up, holding her so tight. She nestled her head into the crook of my neck.

“I love you so much, darling. I’m so sorry for what happened to you. Papa’s an idiot and I would never do anything to hurt you. Ever. I won’t break my promise again and I’m staying here all day with you. Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it. Okay?”

She nodded as best she could in her position, thumb still firmly planted in her mouth.

“Shall we do downstairs and let Daddy sleep some more?”

Another nod.

“We can make him some breakfast.” I stood up, carrying her out of the room as Jake continued to snore away. I grabbed my dressing gown from the back of the door on the way out.

I wouldn’t push her about the fae woman. We needed as much information as we could get, yes, but not now. This was a time for healing, to reassure her that her papa wasn’t a complete let down.

“You want me to carry you downstairs?”

Louise nodded.

So I did.

ONE OF MY specialties in the kitchen were pancakes. Jake enjoyed cooking more than me nowadays, but I could make a mean pancake.

Louise was helping make the batter.

“What fruit shall we have?” I asked.

“Strawberries, Papa.”

“Shall we have cream with them?”

“Yummy!”

The thumb had come out of her mouth after we’d had a cuddle and a drink at the kitchen table—a coffee for me, an orange juice for her. She hadn’t talked about her experience, but about how she might start liking Neptune more than Jupiter. She’d given no explanation as to why, moving onto the movies we could watch today.

“Strawberries and cream it is.” You had to love a sweet breakfast.

“What’s all this?”

A bleary-eyed Jake entered the room, his hair as messy as Lou’s, wrapped up in his dressing gown.

“We’re making brekkie, Daddy,” Louise said. She pulled out a chair for him—the chair slightly taller than her.

“Oh. Well, what a nice surprise.”

“Plonk your bum down, Daddy.”

He grinned at her. “Why thank you, kind little lady.”

“Welcome. Papa? Can Daddy have a cuppa.”

“On the case.”

“Papa’s on the case. Wait!” She shrieked and bolted out of the kitchen.

“Blimey!” Jake responded. “Few more years and she’ll be cracking glass with those notes.”

“No running!” I called.

She was back. “Sorry, Papa, but he should have it in this.” She was brandishing the carrier bag with the mug inside.

Jake looked at me and smiled warmly. God, I was so lucky.

“You give it to him,” I said.

“This is for you,” she told him. “Don’t break it.”

Jake removed the mug from the bag, beaming. “Aw, this is awesome. Thank you so much!” He gave her a hug and kiss.

“Thought you’d like it, Daddy,” she answered, wiping his kiss from her cheek.

Jake stood up, walked over to me and kissed me on the cheek too. “I love it.”

Our eyes met, my heart fluttered. “Remember what Louise said—don’t break it.”

He chuckled. “I hate having this reputation.”

“I’m so glad you’re happy again,” Louise said.

And so was I.

TWENTY

JAKE

Monday. Pissing down with rain and bollock-numbingly freezing.

Another murder. That made five.

I stood inside a tent erected outside Weesperplein Metro station as Mr. Z brought his purple magic to life. It spiralled from his fingertips, making its way to the body of the man with no head.

A wand had been used to blow the head off. The tent stank of burnt flesh, the traces of wand crystal still burning around the edges of the bloody neck stump.

The necros had got to the scene pretty fast.

“The ghost is here,” Mr. Z said. The notepad crap had gone out the window for now.

Fucking bingo! “Really? You can talk to him?”

“I can.” He closed his eyes as more magic poured out of his fingers. “Hallo?”

Finally! We’d snagged a ghost! I couldn’t wait to tell Dean, who was out on a mission with Lars in the underground Metro tunnels looking for this supposed hideout of Sander’s and his creepy friends.

If Brem was bullshitting, I was burning down his house.

Lou was at home doing her work with Sophie, who was back to normal after her head crack on my hallway floor.

The weekend had been quiet, just us three. I’d made us a family feast Valentine’s night, Saturday night, and then whipped up a massive roast for Sunday lunch. I was still stuffed from all the food. It was like bloody Christmas again! But, man, had it been awesome to be locked away in our cocoon of happy, safe from the world.

If only today was the same, but that was the Monday blues for you.

At least it was safe to go back to Jake & Dean Investigations again—though there’d be some disruptive repair work taking place over the coming weeks.

“Yes. Yes.” Mr. Z said. “I know. I am sorry for the manner of your death, but I must ask for your help before you move on. May we speak? Thank you. Tell me about Thomas Ark. Did he do this to you? Yes. The others. You were friends?”

Mr. Z didn’t say anything else, just nodded at the invisible ghost during the rest of the conversation. His face was completely unreadable.

Marie was standing next to me. “Can you see the ghost too?”

“Yes. He’s as he was in life—with his head.”

She showed me her notepad. This guy’s name was Mikey. He was from the UK, Merel his girlfriend. Caucasian, beard, receding black hair.

“I guess you can’t tell me anything else until he’s finished?” I asked.

“No. Sorry. Mr. Z will want to discuss it with you.”

“Yeah, no worries.”

So I waited.

TWENTY-ONE

DEAN

Because of the new murder scene Jake was attending at a station further down the line, this branch of the Metro had already been suspended. It saved Lars some paperwork.

Flashlights in hand, the two of us navigated the railway tracks in the dark. The dim lights weren’t enough of a guide to not have some beams of our own.

Along the tunnel were a series of alcoves, some simply brick indents, others sporting locked metal doors. The air was warm and stuffy, a far cry from the grim day above my head.

When we reached the second junction of our journey, one of the alcoves had a hole cut into the brick. It came up to my waist. I crouched, shining my flashlight inside.

It was a hovel. Some books, a grubby duvet and mattress, and a candle that was still lit.

“Someone’s been here,” I said. “They must have known we were coming to not blow the candle out.”

Lars crouched beside me to get a look. “What a shit hole.”

I crawled through the gap, which was big enough to accommodate a guy built like Lars, and he followed me in.

There was a sick smell and an open bottle of cola still fizzing in a plastic beaker. The books were all dog eared, classic literature. I stepped over a particularly battered copy of On the Road by Jack Kerouc. One of my favourites.

“One mattress,” Lars said, pointing his beam up into the cobwebbed ceiling. “Do you think this still the hideout of those murdered people?”

“No. I think Thomas and Kyler were here.” I nodded to a full bucket containing vomit. “Thomas brought Kyler here to recover.”

He nodded. “I was thinking the same.”

“And we’ve just compromised it.”

I got to work with my UV light, looking for anything I could find. Lars scoped the place too, opening books after I scanned them.

We found loads of fingerprints, but no pod traces.

“I’ll get a team down here,” he said. “Those prints need collecting.”

I scanned the last item—the beaker with the cola. Nothing. Shit! We’d scared them away. Why hadn’t we seen or heard them? Kyler wasn’t invisible. Unless being in close proximity to Thomas covered him too. It was a theory to explore.

Back to square one. Sort of. There must be somewhere else they’d go.

“I want to check the parks and the NDSM neighbourhood. Particularly the abandoned warehouse. Also, the homeless shelters need checking.”

“I’ll get people on it, and get surveillance along all Metro stations and all known exits in case they surface or try and get back in. I’ll also have the rest of the Metro lines searched.”

“Good idea. I want to try those tunnels in Flevopark too.”

If Thomas and Kyler knew about the hidden places of the city, then they might well know about that underground place where I’d killed the Christmas bone-sucker. Plus, I wanted to check out that strange door with the Gaelic writing on it again.

“Fine. Let’s go,” Lars said, “I’ve got no signal down here and I need to get this wheel turning.”

We made our way back up to the surface.

TWENTY-TWO

JAKE

Mikey had been part of a group of friends that included Sander, Merel, Nick, and Jonah. As a foursome, they’d pretty much grown up together, living on the streets, selling drugs when they could get the work, stealing, trying to survive. They were a solid unit, bonded by dark pasts and the determination to not let life get the better of them, no matter the circumstances.

But things were beginning to take a dark turn. Sander had brought in drugs, selling them, as well as dabbling in dark magic. None of the foursome had any magical ability, but Sander had been reading up on the theory of death magic. Not necromancy, but a form of magic where murder was the price to pay to gain magical ability—which was complete bollocks. It didn’t exist. But there’d been plenty of cases over the years of people giving it a bash.

Stupid knobheads!

The group followed him, wanting a boost of joy to their lives, to try and get out of the tunnels and get themselves rich. With magic, they could do anything. Why shouldn’t they have what they wanted? Life took and took and took from them, never giving anything back.

Mikey’s ghost had got himself all animated on that last point, according to Mr. Z.

The only one not into the death magic stuff was Thomas. He didn’t believe in it, and they all thought he was some sort of stuck up goodie two shoes. He’d been spending less and less time with them, sometimes not coming back to the den in the Metro tunnels for days, occasionally a week.

He’d met someone. A junkie. A customer. Well, he wasn’t actually selling the guy anything, but helping him with his addiction. They’d fallen in love.

Kyler Vos.

The group had fumed about it, felt like Thomas was abandoning them. The fact that Merel and Miley had got together after years of back and forth didn’t matter. They still had the backs of their crew. What Thomas was doing was pulling away, trying at a life without them. A fight had broken out, and Thomas had told them all to go fuck themselves.

The problem was, Sander had been like a brother to Thomas. They were the first to meet on the streets, to protect one another before the others joined. If anyone had a bond, it was them two. Not romantic, but brotherly. They were the leaders, the rocks, unbreakable, and came as a package.

Sander had taken Thomas’s slight badly.

Mikey, apparently, didn’t blame Sander for being pissed off. Thomas was acting like a complete dick, thinking he was better than all of them for not wanting to take part in death magic, and for getting himself some arse—a skanky piece of junkie arse.

Mr. Z took a sip of water, not taking his eyes off me. “So,” he said, “in a fit of rage, the group hunted Thomas and Kyler down and took them to the woods. Thomas would die, they said, the sacrifice for the brothers and sisters he failed. And Kyler would watch him die.” Another sip of water. “Kyler tried to put up a fight. That explains why his necromancer mark you and the alchemist found was on Sander. Mikey punched him, telling him he was next. As they beat Thomas and stabbed him repeatedly, Kyler got away, screaming for help as he ran. Mikey said Kyler was scrawny and weak and pathetic for running.”

“He was running for help.”

“I’m just telling you what he said.”

I kept my gob shut. Yeah, not like I was gonna get the chance to argue back with the ghost.

Mr. Z continued. “So, Kyler ran and Thomas was murdered. No magic came to the group, as it wouldn’t, so they set fire to Thomas’s body and fled before Kyler could come back with any help. They all decided Thomas had been an unworthy victim and would find another. But Thomas came back, this time with the power of invisibility and speed. He hunted them all down, Mikey being the final one. He has no idea how it happened, or any information about Kyler being a necromancer.”

Somehow, amid all that, Thomas had ended up on a pod. “Did Mikey mention a pod?”

Mr. Z shook his head. “No. My theory is Kyler’s power is linked to trauma, that something awoke during the murder of Thomas, resurrecting him somehow, allowing him to go on a killing spree. That was why Sander and Nick came for your help, but obviously failed.”

Was it wrong that a part of me was glad they’d failed after what they’d done? “What about those charms?”

“Again, a piece of Kyler’s magic I do not understand. We’re still looking into it.”

“Then I need to try and find him again.”

Mr. Z nodded, saying nothing more.

“Mr. Z will need his rest now,” Marie said. “We thank you for your time.”

Sounded a bit backward. “Thank you for your time.”

Neither of them said a word, falling into deep contemplation which I took as my cue to get out of there.

I left the tent, dialling Dean. No answer. Must be underground still.

In need of a cuppa after all that stuff, my brain swimming with a shit load of information, I decided to head to a café for tea and a doughnut. Man, did I need some sugary goodness.

I sent Dean a quick text to get him to call me ASAP, that the necro had got some intel from a ghost, then made my way down a narrow street towards a sign with a teacup on it. That was my kind of sign! The morning was so dark, and it looked like the rain was about to go hardcore.

My joy of impeding caffeine was shut down when Parker Smith/Elijah Hart stepped into my path.

“Hello, Jake.”

Automatically, I whipped out my spear. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

TWENTY-THREE

DEAN

A text from Jake. Finally! A ghost to talk to! I gave him a quick call. No answer. So I left him a voicemail to get back to me.

As I swung a leg over my motorbike, ready to head over to Flevopark, I heard running footsteps coming my way.

Another victim needing my help? It hadn’t ended well for Sander and that Nick guy.

No. It was Sonny the Snake—a pod born thief who’d once been a fully-fledged human, and now had a rattle snake tail. He was also a complete pain in the backside who’d kept a really low profile the past month or so. It was better for his health to not get involved with stealing things from dangerous folk.

He was hesitant, looking at the scene of police behind me. “Alright, Dean?” He was from originally from the UK.

“What’s up?” I was good at reigning in my desire to smack him in the face. He’d almost got Jake killed, so I wasn’t his biggest fan to say the least.

“I know I’m the last person you want to see, but I have something for you.”

“Not today.”

“I’m not trying to trick you.”

“No? And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“I didn’t…I didn’t mean for any of that stuff with those crazy Conclave bastards.”

“Okay, Sonny. Good to see you.”

“Don’t just dismiss me!” He grabbed my arm.

I met his yellow serpentine eyes. “You want to let me go before you lose that arm?”

He quickly released me. “Sorry, I’m just, well, trying to tell you something.”

“Not interested.”

“You’re supposed to be a PIA! I’ve got information.”

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, he was right. “Go on, then. Make it quick.”

He nodded, brushing down his grimy green raincoat. What he was actually brushing off was anyone’s guess. “You’re looking into the goblin disappearance, right?”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do.”

“How?”

“Goblin told me the other night. He’s a drinking buddy of mine. Said he’d be in the shit for telling me, but there’s been a group disappear who worked for you, and one of them had turned up dead on your doorstep.”

I folded my arms. “Go on.”

“Well, there’s something weird going at this house.”

“What house?”

“Okay.” He held his hands up. “I gotta be honest. I was trying to break in. I’d been scoping the neighbourhood and it’s the first house I tried with my goblin mate.”

“I wouldn’t say that too loudly.” Really, I should shop him in. “What neighbourhood is this?”

“Westelijk Zuilengang.”

“That’s a posh area.” It wasn’t far from Amsterdam Centraal station. “Makes sense for someone like you to scope it.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Well, there’s something wrong about this the house. Real wrong. He ran off, my buddy, when we checked it out together. Proper freaked out. When I found him the next day, he told me he sensed something dark there, and smelled goblin on the wards all across the front and back of the house.”

“He smelled goblin? Did he report it to Rebus?”

“Nope. Says he doesn’t want anything to do with it. I haven’t seen him since. He’s not much cop really, probably would’ve fucked up the burglary.”

Again, I should be shopping him. “Then you need to report it to Rebus,” I said. “In fact, I will.”

“Can’t you come and take a look at the house? I need to know what’s in there.”

“You need to know? Sonny, I’m working a different case.”

“What if this is something, Dean? It feels so bad.”

There was a chance it could be a lead.

“Fine. But you’re not coming with me.”

“But—”

“Don’t push your luck, Sonny. Get out of here.”

He did as he was told.

TWENTY-FOUR

JAKE

“I’ll ask you again,” I seethed. “What the fuck do you want?”

The bastard was all jolly and sunny like the first time I’d met him—when I’d thought him to be someone else. He wasn’t as he’d been in the hospital but reset to the happy knobhead with no menace about him at all.

That meant sweet fuck all.

“You don’t need to be so hostile,” he said. “I’m here to help.”

“Help with what? Burning me at the stake?”

He chuckled. “That’s the last thing I want.”

“Listen, stop this shit. Who are you really? One minute you’re this, the next you’re that vile Conclave bastard. What’s your secret?”

He smiled, taking a moment to answer. “Some of us don’t want you dead. You’re too interesting to me.”

“Then what was with all the burning me stuff? That means there’s two of you. Answer me!”

“Maybe you’re right, but that’s not important right now.”

“I think it’s really bloody important.”

He titled his head. “Fascinating.”

“What’re you chatting about?” I was ready to stick him with my spear.

“You are so, so fascinating.”

“And you’re so, so annoying. Fuck off.”

“Not before I leave you something.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

He removed a piece of paper from his jeans pocket.

“What’s that?”

“An address for you.”

“What?”

“You’re trying to find that necromancer and his invisible lover. I know where they are.”

“You’re lying.”

“Do what you want with it.” He dropped it. The folded paper landed on the wet concrete. “I just wanted to help.”

“There’s two of you,” I said. “What the hell is going on? Answer me!”

But all he did was smile warmly at me. “I don’t want to burn you, Jake. I’m on your side.”

“Bollocks! Tell me what you want.”

He turned to walk away, then over his shoulder he said, “I want to see what happens!”

“Come back here!”

Parker/Elijah/whoever the hell he was, broke into a run. I chased after him as he made a left at the end of the street into another. He was gone when I reached the point where he’d turned. The street was straight, no curves and not many people on it. I dashed down it, checking every nook and cranny and finding nothing. Not a single trace of the prick.

Okay, now I was fuming. Supressing a roar, I charged back to where we’d encountered each other, pulling my phone out. If I got my hands on the knob I wasn’t pausing for a chat again. He was getting his arse kicked big time, then tied up and smacked around until he spilled the friggin’ beans!

“Jake? You okay?” Dean answered.

“No, I’m not.” I unleashed, getting out details about the ghost stuff as well.

“Shit!”

“I know.”

“Has to be a trap.”

“What if its not, though?” Amid my anger, there was that spark of what if.

“Too dangerous. Go home.”

“I can’t. This has got me rattled.”

“Talking of which…” He went to explain his morning with Sonny.

“A trap?” was the first thing I blurted. “What the hell is going on?”

“Either people are messing with us, or we’ve just got lucky with some further information.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I.”

“But we don’t have anything else.” The downside of being a PIA was being in the dark when you had no light to point into the shadowy corners of a case. Now that we had some, we didn’t like the poxy thing.

We had to be rational about this. “Okay, we can’t leave this,” I said. “We need a plan.” I had one cooking, my anger subsiding. “We check these things out. But not alone. Can Lars come with me? Or send someone over? And can you get someone to go with you?”

He sighed down the line. “You’re right. We can’t risk losing this. Okay, I’m calling Mila. She might be able to help with this house.”

“Fine. But be careful. Update me as much as you can.”

“Same goes for you.”

“I will. If something doesn’t feel the slightest bit right, we get the hell out of there.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Make sure you stick to it.”

“I promise. And that’s a solid stone promise, Jake. No more flimsy ones.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“Okay. Let’s do this. Don’t leave the area until we’ve made arrangements. I’ll talk to Lars now.”

“No problem. I’m still gagging for a cuppa.”

“Of course you are.”

“It’ll help me think.”

“I love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

TWENTY-FIVE

DEAN

Mila met me outside the house on the short, immaculate street known as Westelijk Zuilengang as the rain came down. Every brick house was four stories tall and well kept, all uniform in appearance and perfect.

Mila was holding a turquoise umbrella over her turquoise sari. You would never know she’d been close to an explosion. She was cut free and projecting plenty of glamour.

“Dean, your face is a mess. Let me give you some ointment after this is over.”

I thought I’d got away with quite a lot when it came to facial damage. “Thanks.” Always best to go with it where Mila was concerned. Made for an easier ride.

She had a matching turquoise bag with her and swept closer to the door of the warded house, popping open her luggage.

“I can already sense what this is,” she said. “Ugly magic. Stand right back.”

First of all, she sprinkled a circle of white power around her from a large vial, forming a circle of salt.

“Is that salt?”

“No, Dean. Get back some more please. That’s it. Do not move from that spot or your face will end up in a worse state than it already is.”

Tactful as always, and extremely harsh. I’d hate to hear what she had to say if I’d actually been seriously messed up by the attack.

She opened a vial of what looked like liquid red smoke and threw it over the door. Immediately, the door creaked, a blaze of red sparks rushing all over the house.

“Remember to stay where you are!”

The red magic rushed up to the roof in one big surge, forming a huge red ball. It rippled and sparked and then contorted into the shape of a face. It was giant and sexless and flew at Mila. It struck some invisible force field made by the salty circle, pulled back, then turned its attention onto me.

Though its eyes were hollow, it didn’t lessen the sensation of an evil gaze penetrating me.

“Stay still, Dean!” Mila yelled.

The red head flew at me, sparking and raging. Shit! It was about to crash into me. Every instinct was telling me to move, but I liked to listen to Mila. She was smart, knew what she was talking about. The red monstrosity blinked out of existence just before the first sliver of red touched me.

“There,” Mila said.

The front door of the house creaked and fell inward off its hinges.

“Unfortunate,” the alchemist proclaimed.

“Is that it?” I asked.

“Yes, Dean. I broke the ward. It was made with goblin blood.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yes. That’s what that goblin picked up on. It is a dirty magical ward. Without the proper protection, as I provided, that red head would have infected us both with a toxic magic that would have melted the skin from our bones. Horrendous.”

“I’m glad I didn’t move.” She could’ve alerted me to the risk better!

“These types of wards are quite difficult to pull off. I’m impressed.”

“You need to set the bar of impressiveness much higher than that.”

She turned to me, casting a lofty look my way. “No matter the intentions, I am always impressed by a fellow caster of wards if they pull off a clever feat. I hope this person offers the same level of awe to me for breaking it.”

“Thanks for breaking it.”

“You’re welcome. Now, shall we go inside?”

“Let’s.”

“I wonder if the goblin blood added that extra pizazz.”

“Sorry?”

“The red head. Normally it would all be a boring cloud of magic, but this took sheer craftsmanship. It must have been the blood.”

I ignored her as we crossed the threshold into the house. We were on completely different levels of what fascinated us. I was all for inventive things, of learning and discovering different aspects of the world. In fact, I got my kicks from research a lot of the time. Knowledge was definitely power. But the possibility of having goblin blood add an extra layer of showiness to a ward? No. To me, that was gross arrogance—rancid showing off.

I hated the white theme of the house. Everything was white or cream. The walls, the furniture, the carpeted floors. It was sterile and boring, and our shoes were leaving wet footprints all over the place.

“Don’t worry,” Mila said, “I’ll remove our footprints when we leave.”

Despite the whiteness and the fact there were things in the house to indicate someone lived here, there was a layer of dust over a lot of the surfaces on closer inspection. The white was so bright it seemed to burn through the dust to the casual eye.

There was also a thick perfume in the air, both citrusy and floral.

“It is masking something,” Mila said.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

I headed upstairs.

Every room followed the same white pattern. This wasn’t a house whose owner visited often.

The perfume was thicker up here, at its most potent right beneath the loft hatch above my head. There was also what sounded like a hum, or a buzzing, above my head.

“Mila?” I called.

She joined me on the white landing. “Yes?”

“Can you hear that?” I asked.

She nodded and removed a blue stone from her bag. Placing one on the floor, the tiny oblong released a thin beam of blue light at the attic.

Nothing.

“It is safe to open,” she said.

“What is that?”

“A safeguard ward finder.”

“Right.” I wanted one. We’d have to chat about that later. “I’ll see to that.” There was a cord, but the hatch was locked with a bolt and padlock.

She nodded and I pulled a chair from out of a small bedroom. Climbing up, it was my turn to perform a trick with my lockpick. I made short work of it, and the padlock landed heavily on the carpet. I slid the bolt open and stepped off the chair.

“You pull, I’ll prepare for attack,” she said.

I took a few beats and yanked the cord.

A ladder roared downward, stopping halfway. A cloud of black poured out of the hatch. Flies. So many flies buzzing like a million chainsaws tore through the house.

“Shit!” I yelled, batting them away.

A cloud of orange and the flies were repelled, many of them dropping dead around us.

“Thanks,” I said, spitting one out, brushing others from my hair and coat.

“This is not a good sign,” Mila said, cool as anything without a fly on her.

What was her secret for maintaining her image like that?

And she was right. All those flies, that overwhelming perfume. Something bad was up there. Real bad.

I pulled the rest of the ladder down, placing a boot on the first rung.

Movement from downstairs. Voices. Shit! The owner.

“Hallo? Dean Tseng?”

This male voice knew my name.

“Who is it?” I called back as Mila readied a potion.

“This is Rebus of The Goblin Society of the Netherlands. An acquaintance of yours contacted us about this house and told us you were coming here.”

Sonny.

“What are all these flies?” the goblin added.

“Come up,” I replied.

Rebus was in black robes and had two male goblins with him dressed the same.

“There are so many flies, Mr. Tseng,” he said as he came to the landing.

“I know.”

“What is that smell?”

“I think we might have found something.”

His eyes widened at that moment, as if a sudden realisation had struck him. “No. No. This isn’t what you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?” I asked.

“I’m going up there with you,” he answered.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. This is not what you’re thinking.”

If only he’d been right. But all those flies and that perfume were a result of one thing. Death. And in the loft was a horrendous display of death.

Goblin bodies. A pile of limbs, hints of green, flies everywhere, dancing and landing on the corpses. The perfume masked the state of decay they were in. Most of the green had given way to the purple and black of rot.

The three goblins let out a cry that was nothing short of heart-breaking.

TWENTY-SIX

JAKE

The house was dilapidated. A hole in the roof, windows on the top floor all broken. This rain would be getting into every nook and cranny. It was a creepy house, not helped by the graveyard directly opposite, twisted iron fence in need of some TLC forming the perimeter. Me and Lars stood on the same side of the road as the graveyard, taking shelter under a large umbrella, an old and dead oak tree hunched above our heads.

I’d just got off the phone to Dean, who’d found the missing goblins. He was on his way here, Rebus having taken over the entire murder scene. There was nothing else he could do there now.

“Poor things,” Lars said. “That’s fucked up.”

“It is, mate. It is.”

Had that goblin on our doorstep been looking for us too? If so, why had he been naked? Or had he been dumped them for some twisted reason?

Fuck it! I hated this.

With a deep breath, I took in more of the house. The ones neighbouring it were just as rotten and in a state of falling down, boarded up and forgotten. It was only this particular house that was half-secure with those wooden boards. The main downstairs window had a board hanging off at an angle, looking like it’d been pulled off, exposing the fractured and barely intact glass panel behind it.

From this position, I couldn’t see anything. I wanted to go in, but Dean wanted us to wait. I’d have been the same. Anyway, I liked it when we got to work together, even if everything was one big shit pile. Plus, it always good to watch for a while. Scope stuff out. After all, Parker/Elijah had given me the details of this place over in Slotermeer.

Those poor goblins.

“I’ll keep an eye on the back of the house in case they spot us,” Lars said.

“Good idea.”

There was a gate on the right side of the house, slightly ajar. I watched Lars cross the road and push the gate wider. He waited there.

Dean arrived ten minutes later.

Were Thomas and Kyler here? Or was Parker/Elijah just a complete dick and wasting our time for kicks?

Oh, fuck! I called Sophie as Dean got off his bike.

I sighed with relief as I ended the call. Everything was fine.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked.

“Just had a horrible thought that prick was trying to distract us and had made a play for our place.” I was shaking.

Dean took me by the shoulders. “Breathe, baby. It’s okay, right?”

“Yeah. Completely.”

“Good. Breathe.”

I did, slowly in and out, settling my nerves.

“How are you?” I finally asked.

“Processing it.”

I hugged him. Mission or not, I needed him close just for a moment. That goblin massacre was one fucked up scene to witness.

Hug over, I faced the house again.

“Shall we?” he asked.

“Let’s do it.”

We went up to the front door with its missing lock. Dean pushed it open without any resistance. My spear was drawn, Dean’s knuckledusters fixed to his leather biking gloves, ready for action.

He took point, me following him into the dark building.

Everything was grim. No wallpaper, no flooring aside from rotting exposed floorboards.

“Watch your step,” Dean said.

The middle of the stairs was missing some steps. Wouldn’t be trying those straight away.

God, there was mould everywhere, leaves and dirt and nothing but empty sadness. This place had not been loved in a very long time. If I thought Thomas’s house was bad, this was on a whole other level of depressing.

“In here,” Dean whispered, pausing by a doorway on the right.

Ahead of me was another door hanging off its hinges. Looked like a kitchen back there.

I joined my fiancé.

“Kyler” I said.

In a room of more grime and leaves, with an empty cabinet in the corner, Kyler was laid out on a mattress, covered in a thick yellow blanket.

The rain seemed to pound the fractured window harder as we stepped into the room. Kyler was alive, but my God did he look in a bad way. There was nothing of the poor guy, all bones and skin, and he was paler than pale.

A purple glow was radiating off him.

“We—”

Wham! Something smacked me in the back of the head.

The last thing I heard was Dean call my name as I fell into the dark.

“JAKE?” Dean’s voice.

“Jake?” Lars’s voice.

They called me repeatedly, melding together into one deep melody of baritones until I came to, head sore, mood sour, and with the sensation of being tied up.

Ah, bollocks! Me and Dean were tied up back to back, our wrists bound together behind our backs, rope crossing our chests, sitting on the floor. Over in the corner by the door we’d entered this room through was Lars, also tied up with his hands behind his back.

“What the fuck?” I said.

Lars nodded in the direction of Kyler.

“Thomas,” Dean said.

The shimmering figure was bent over Kyler’s frail frame. Purple magic crackled all over his the necro’s body, puffs of violet condensation curling out of his open mouth with every deep, sleeping breath.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Thomas said softly.

“We know about your crew,” I responded.

His head moved, as if to face me. The shimmering was bloody unsettling. “They deserved it. All of them.”

“I know they did, but that doesn’t change the fact that you killed people.”

Dean was fiddling with the binds, trying to untie us.

Over by the window was my spear, resting against the wall.

“I don’t want to hurt any of you.”

“The pain in my head says otherwise,” I countered.

“I had to. You would interfere. We don’t need that shit. We need to be free to live our lives.”

“He doesn’t look well,” Dean added gently. “We can help.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. You’d either kill me or lock me up.”

Dean didn’t answer.

“Kyler’s special,” Thomas said. “Real special. His power isn’t like those dicks at Deathwell. He’s not like anyone else. He brought me back into my body, fully resurrected me with his magic. All that violence trigged his power, brought it to life. But I was so badly burned I couldn’t stand the pain I’d woken up with. So I ran, shamefully, and fell into a pod somewhere in the woods. I didn’t want Kyler to see me like that, all charred and blistered, screaming in agony. I was selfish to run.” He shook his shimmery head. “What happened after I fell into the pod was a miracle and a curse. It cured the pain but made me invisible. Sometimes I can be completely gone, but most of the time I shimmer like this.”

“That’s terrible,” I said.

“At least we could be together. But there was a problem. Somehow, Kyler had locked onto all of my crew, got his magical hooks in deep when they’d cut me down.” He sighed. “But with that weird connection he’d made to them, he’d also landed himself some serious pain. They haunted him, all of them. Not just the memory of what they’d done, but their energy was tied to him—their living spirit. It was like they were a poison he needed to get out. So it was my mission to kill them.” He sighed. “He’s not in control of those charms. He didn’t mean for that stuff to happen. All he wanted was for them to be dead.”

“And you thought killing them would save him.”

“Yeah. He was using again, after getting clean. He had to, so he could block out their voices. You saw him. He almost died that day in my house, but I saved him. Then your boyfriend and cop found the old crew hideout we’d crashed in, and we had to move. This was the only place I knew I could come to, even though…” He stopped.

“What?”

“This was where I lived as a kid until my junkie mum killed herself. Dad left before I was born. She…she never got over it and hung herself while off her face.”

Oh, God. “I’m sorry. This is—”

“I don’t need pity.”

“Okay. I get it.” These poor young men had experienced nothing but darkness in their short lives. All they wanted to do was be together, to live their lives in love.

“I took to the streets then,” Thomas continued, “nothing but a kid, found my way as best I could. Then I met Kyler and knew that love was possible. Even if he was putting that stuff inside him, I loved him, I helped him. We both came from shit, lived on the streets, had a bad start in life. But we’d found each other, and he was getting clean and we were planning a new life in the South of France. Somewhere hot with a pretty beach. We hadn’t decided. But then life fucked me again when Sander lost his mind with that death magic stuff. Now this mess. I have to help him, but I don’t know what to do. Why didn’t it work? They’re all dead, but look at him.”

Fuck. What did I say to that?

I watched his shimmering shoulders slump. “He’s not getting better.”

If I mentioned the necros helping him, he’d probably go off on me.

“He didn’t want any of this magic.” He sighed. “I thought I could save him from it. But he’s getting worse. He’s fading and I don’t know how to stop it.” He stroked the sweaty face of his love. “Wake up, Kyler. Please.”

There was a vulnerability in Thomas’s voice that didn’t fit the violent serial killer he’d been profiled as. He was someone getting his revenge, a vigilante for love. It was amazing he’d told us all of that. Whatever he said, he wanted help. He was so young, only eighteen.

“You won’t like this,” Dean said, “but the neromancers are Kyler’s best hope.”

He was braver than me for saying it.

“No!” Thomas yelled. “I don’t want those bastards near him. I don’t want anyone near him. I told that American guy the same thing. No one puts their hands on Kyler. No one!”

American guy. Oh, bollocks. “Was his name Parker Smith by any chance?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“The fucking prick! He gave us this address.”

“What? How? Did he follow us?”

“I’ve no idea. He likes to play games. You have to let us go, Thomas.”

Dean was working through the binds, loosening them up bit by bit.

“No, I can’t. You’ll ruin everything.”

The purple magic continued in its brightening.

“Look, you opened up to us,” Dean added. “You must know you can trust us deep down. You have to let us go. Parker Smith is dangerous.”

“Kyler?” Thomas said, distracted. “Kyler?”

“Thomas, listen to me,” Dean urged.

But Thomas was too lost in his love.

I watched as Kyler moaned, as his eyes started to open, as the magic grew brighter and brighter.

“You’re awake!” Thomas rejoiced. “Oh, Kyler. I’m so happy you’re awake.”

“Thomas…” Kyler wheezed as he looked up into the shimmering figure, his eyes full of purple magic

Something was seriously wrong.

“How’s it coming?” I whispered.

“Almost there,” Dean replied.

Kyler screamed, his spine bending.

“Kyler!” Thomas cried.

Kyler lifted off the ground, spine continuing to bend until he was in the shape of a half moon. Thomas was trying to pull him back down, to straighten him, but failing, a powerful force lifting his skinny frame higher.

“Thomas!” Dean roared. “Untie us so we can help!”

I couldn’t see how we could, but more hands on deck was better than one pair.

Above Kyler’s chest, the magic crackled, and a black shape started to form.

“What the fuck?” I gasped.

It took the shape of a hexagon, carmine and veined purple, growing until it was the size of a beach ball.

A charm of death.

It released purple lightning that shattered the windows and tore at the ceiling. Then it spun violently, pulsing purple, no more lightning, but churning up a wind that stole my breath.

Kyler screamed again and Thomas screamed his name.

The charm started to grow again, swelling and swelling. It’d take over the fucking living room within minutes!

Shitshitshitshitshitshit!

There! Dean had cracked it! Our arms were free. Together we worked on the other ropes around us as the charm continued to grow at a terrifying rate.

Done. Free with moments to spare.

With no time to untie him, me and Dean grabbed Lars and dragged him into the hall as the walls creaked and the house started to shake. A crack ripped through the wall next to me.

We didn’t stop dragging the copper until we were on the other side of the street.

TWENTY-SEVEN

DEAN

Lars was free from his binds, his jaw on the floor at the show only feet away.

That charm of death had broken through the house, swollen like an overfull water balloon. Brick cracked, glass shattered, and the air up and down the street was disturbed, churned into a roaring frenzy.

It’d attracted the attention of other people, who ran or watched, or tried to do both and ended up tripping over themselves—people who’d been squatting in the rotting houses.

The houses either side of it were starting to take some of the strain as the charm grew and grew, bulging just like their neighbour. I could only hope they were empty.

The rain was getting heavier, soaking me through to the skin. We moved further down the street, crouching behind a car, a tree creaking above in the wind.

“How do we stop him?” Jake said.

It was too dangerous to go back inside, and too dangerous to leave whatever was happening to continue much longer. There was powerful necromancy being summoned, which would only lead to bad things.

Throwing an exploder potion wouldn’t work. Too risky with the wind.

There was only one way. “The council.”

“What?” Jake enquired.

“Wands,” Lars said, clearly on the same wavelength as me.

Jake shook his head. “We can’t let them do that. What about the necros? They might have something to stop him. Or even Mila. Right? There’s always a better way than a wand.”

Seeing as the arrival of the pods had stopped all guns working, or so it was believed, wands were the only firearms left in the world.

“I’ve put out a call to the council already,” Lars said.

I was nodding as Jake looked back and forth between us. “He’ll die. They’ll die.” I could see he was desperate to find another way, but there wasn’t one showing itself.

Muddy waters. Thomas had killed, yes, but victims hadn’t deserved anything less. Anyone could see that, but the law wouldn’t. Maybe Thomas and Kyler did deserve to be happy together, but the grim reality was they just seemed to be doomed.

“I’d love to be able to give them hope, Jake, but—”

“Yeah, the world just sees them as screwed, a waste of time.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. Poor them, right? Dealt the shitty hand.”

“Yes, they were dealt a bad hand,” I replied. “But that’s not what this is about now. If there was a way to stop whatever Kyler’s doing without hurting him, I’d go for it. But we’re between a million rocks and billion hard places.” I took his hand. “We’ll do what we can.”

The harshness of the real world really stung sometimes.

What were the facts we had? Kyler was connected to the now dead five killers of Thomas. Killing them hadn’t broken that awful hold they’d had over him. Also, he’d resurrected Thomas and had incredible power—as we were seeing.

There was still only the one route out of this.

As I looked over the car, an almighty boom went off. The house exploded in a spray of brick and dust and glass. Instinctively, I leapt onto Jake, covering him with my body. Something heavy hit my back, but not enough to cause damage, only hurt.

“Fuck!” my fiancé cried as debris rained down.

The worst of it missed us, Lars too, from the shield of the car. The officer had a cut to his forehead, and left hand, but he wasn’t badly hurt.

“You good?” I asked him, getting to my feet.

He nodded in response.

I helped Jake up, brushing dust off him as he did the same to me.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No. You?” I could see he wasn’t, but that was never an assumption anyone should ever make in a situation like this.

“Dean…” He was looking the other way.

Remnants of the house, and from the neighbouring buildings that’d taken damage, were scattered down the street in chaotic devastation, some if it near my feet. Bricks had smashed the front and rear windows of the car, dented the roof.

We’d been lucky.

The house had pretty much gone, apart from the lower shell and foundations. Kyler was still floating in the air with his spine bent back, the huge charm spinning above him. Thomas was below him, shimmering and helpless. I could just about hear him.

“Shit!” Lars grunted. “Someone’s hurt.”

There was a man on the ground, facedown.

“Is that a pool of blood?” Jake asked.

Lars took off, running to help. Jake and I followed him across the sea of damage.

The man had taken a hit to the head, a hole in the back of it where he’d been struck. And he was lying in his pooling blood.

“Oh, no,” Jake said. “No.”

This had to stop. One body was one too many.

“Kyler!” I heard Thomas, then, clearer than before.

The wind had taken to forming a cocoon around the pair, spinning in a protective violent shield nothing could penetrate. It didn’t suck anything in, pushing debris away from the shielded lovers.

How tough was it? Could wand get through? I had a feeling it could.

We had a wand, but I couldn’t leave the scene to go get it. It’d take too long to go to the office and back. It was times like these I wished I carried it with me, even if it was a deadly instrument that unnerved me. I really didn’t like using it. Too much power—that’s why they were outlawed.

Wait…

“They had a wand,” I said. “Kyler used one against me.”

Jake frowned, a darkness falling across his features. “Remind me why I don’t want him to die again.”

“Don’t worry about that now.”

“He could’ve killed you,” he said, as if he’d just remembered Kyler’s attack. “The fucking prick.”

“Jake! Focus!”

He blinked, taking a few seconds to come back from the dark place. “Sorry. Yeah, the wand. What about it?”

“Can you see it anywhere on the ground?”

Sirens in the distance. Police. Ambulance. Fire crew. They’d all come.

He scanned around himself. “Let’s see if we can find it.”

His tune had changed. Shit. I could only hope he wouldn’t snap now he’d had this remembrance. No matter what, I didn’t want him to go crazy with rage.

“I’ll go this way,” he said.

I wanted to tell him to stick by my side, or not to go too far, but that wouldn’t help. We needed to cover as much of the road as quickly as we could.

“Don’t go near the house,” I said.

“Haven’t got a death wish, treacle.”

The image of those dead goblin bodies blinked behind my eyes. All those flies, the screams of Rebus and the others, that awful perfume shieling the stench of decomposition. And I had no clue what it was all about—only that Jake and I were somehow caught in the middle.

That sensation of helplessness would never truly die.

I kicked debris away, hunting for the wand that might not be there. My eyes met with Lars. He was still with the dead guy, making calls.

He mouthed to me that the council were on their way.

I looked over to Thomas and Kyler again as the sirens grew closer. No change. Thomas pleading, the scene the same.

I turned to Jake as he searched for the wand. He was having as much luck as me. It probably wasn’t here.

Purple waves of magic were flung across the sky from the hexagonal charm in all directions, crackling like fireworks. The charm’s spinning had slowed down, now throbbing and releasing its energy. The magical reach was wide, as if it were spreading across the city.

No. Those charms reanimated corpses, turning them violent.

Shit.

The sirens were almost on us.

Purple magic was spiralling up from Kyler, feeding the charm. Thomas was frantically trying to reach him, jumping yet missing each time, inches away from grabbing him.

If only I could get in there.

“Oh my God!”

I spun to see what Jake was shouting about.

On instinct again, I ran, leaping over debris to get to him.

They staggered toward the fence, skeletons and rotting bodies, some more intact than others. Mud caked every inch of them. An army of dead with red eyes, their jaws moving, some silent, some moaning. The ground of the nearest grave burst open, a skeletal hand tearing its way upward.

A dead guy that looked fresher than the others broke into a run and leapt the fence, making a beeline for us.

“Holy shit!” Jake cried and pulled his spear.

The other walking dead sped up too, either jumping the fence or crumpling into a mess of limbs and bones because they were too far gone.

Jake caught the guy on the end of his spear right through the chest as another came at me, followed closely by a woman with half her face missing.

“Shit!” Lars cried and fired his taser. The dead guy beside him went to get up and met the sole of the officer’s heavy boot before anything could happen.

I dropkicked the guy who lashed at me with muddy hands, and put my fist right through the woman’s head. A spray of bone and rot and maggots burst from her skull, catching me in the face.

Quick glance at Jake before the next body reached me. He’d sliced through the guy from stomach to shoulder, now taking down two other men with his weapon.

Crunch. Squelch. Those sickening sounds rang in my ears as I fought. A pile up was going on over at the fence, making a convenient ledge for more dead to climb over.

They moved as if they were alive, even if they were half-rotted.

Why did the cemetery have to be so big? There were so many dead and they were so damn relentless!

Three at a time, leaping the fence like athletes, coming straight for me. At the head of the group was a woman with worms hanging from her nose, her hair lifted by the wind into brittle, fair weeds. I leapt back as she clawed at me and lost my footing on a brick. She sprang, rambling some gibberish that was nothing more than death noise, and we tumbled across the debris.

“Fuck!” I yelled and unleashed punches into her.

Something sharp stuck me in the right side. Deep. It was hot there, and I soon felt the blood flowing. The others had landed with her, pulling at my arms and legs. Teeth bit down on my boots as another guy crawled up claw at my face. I kicked the biter off and shoved at the woman as the filthy nails of the crawler guy gouged across my forehead.

“Get the fuck off him!” Jake boomed and her head exploded at the swing of his spear.

Roaring, he booted the crawler in the face, and I heard his spear stick something else. Blood ran down my face, dripping into my eyes. Shit. That man had cut me deep.

Jake was back, panting by my side. “Oh, God! Dean! I’m—”

A skeleton wrapped in rags landed on him, jaws snapping at his face. I swung upward and shattered its jaw, then Jake shoved it off him.

“We have to get out of here!” he said, taking my hand. “Oh, God! That cut!”

I winced, unable to get upright. “Shit. Jake, there’s something stuck in my side.”

“I—”

A heavy figure bundled into him, his spear flying out of his grip.

TWENTY-EIGHT

JAKE

I narrowly avoided my face breaking open on a jagged bit of stone.

Fucking knobhead!

I elbowed him in the face, my strike going all the way through soft skull. My God the smell! I wanted to puke my guts up, but that’d give the prick a window of opportunity I sure as frig wasn’t gonna hand over!

Another came at me as I got to my feet. This one was well on its way to being a skeleton, limping over as the last traces of flesh hung from its ribcage. I made short work of it, then grabbed my spear. A woman caught the collar of my jacket and pulled hard, choking me. I took her head off with my smoking weapon.

Bollocks to all of this!

I hurried back to Dean, taking down a knobhead dead bastard before he could hurt my man anymore than he was.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

The crazy dead fuckers kept on coming. I took down another as it clawed at me. Nothing truly shut them down because, even in broken piles, they never stopped moving.

All because of Kyler.

Crappinghellballs!

“I’m getting you out of here,” I told him, the rain washing the blood down his face.

At least he was still awake. “That’d be good, baby.”

I looked at his side. “Oh, crap.” A jagged piece of metal had gone into his lower back. What if it’d hit a kidney? If I tried to pull it out, I could do some serious damage.

Thankfully, there were blue lights at the end of the road, the siren’s louder.

Lars came over, clutching his left arm. He was bleeding, and his face splattered with gore. He stopped a zombie woman as she leapt at him with one brutal punch that took her head off. The body fell, still writhing and trying to get at her prey. With a roar he stamped on her arms and legs until they were a pulpy mess. The torso still trashed, the jaws in her head nearby snapping away.

There was a lot of blood coming from his arm.

I was forced to fight again, twirling my spear. Me and Lars teamed up, protecting Dean, who also protected himself with some powerful kicks which must’ve hurt like fuck to perform.

My beautiful, agile fighting fiancé who never gave up, who always battled on and would always put himself in the firing line for me. Like when the house had blown up. The knob! I’d been mad and grateful and wanted to snog the face off him all at the same time when he’d done that.

No matter what, he was always my hero.

But I was so gonna be his too!

Police officers stormed across the debris, followed by nercos and paramedics. We had an army at our backs, taking on the army of the dead.

Evi was with Lars. She checked his arm then high-kicked a zombie in the face.

Rage. That’s what this was. These crazy dead weren’t out for brains or any of the clichés associated with them. It was all connected to Kyler and his pain. The dead were an extension of his suffering, a release of his internal agony. Or so I was thinking. I mean, with what Thomas had told us, that had to be it. And it was so fucking sad.

He’d tried to kill Dean…

Yeah, remembering that detail after being stuck in a fog of sympathy was really not leaving me fully on the side of hope for this pair. Funny how things can be blown to smithereens with on click.

The police had formed a circle around us, with Mr. Z and Marie joining us along with two paramedics who saw to Lars and Dean.

“This power,” the head necro said, “is out of control.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me.”

“The council soldiers will be here soon,” Evi said. “Then it’ll be over.”

God. It so would. Just like that. Bang! The wand would take them both out. Unless it couldn’t break that windy shield…

“I—”

A collective thump and the wind died off.

“What the hell?”

I pushed through the ring of police. Every single corpse and skeleton was still and as dead and as unmoving as the rules nature dictated, scattered across the street and the sodden ground of the graveyard.

No purple magic in the sky.

I went to the other side of the police ring. Everyone was watching the destroyed house.

The wind shield was gone, the charm too. Kyler was on the ground, his head resting in the lap of a horrifically burned man who stroked his face with charred fingers.

Thomas. No more invisibility.

I walked over brick and bodies until I was only a few feet away.

Kyler’s neck was twisted, broken at a killing angle. His eyes were closed. The paleness and emaciated look of him was chilling. Man, he really was frail as hell, and now dead.

Thomas looked up at me. Within all blackened flesh and the red sores making up his ruined body were a pair of green eyes that shone brightly with sadness. There were even tears cutting down his charcoal cheeks.

Piece by piece, bits of him broke away, crumbling like ash. He didn’t say anything as he watched me, holding the lover he’d just killed to save the city.

A sacrifice not many would make. Couldn’t say I would.

I watched him become nothing but ash, smothering Kyler in black. The rain didn’t take long to wash his remains off the fallen necro, forming a circle of black around the body of the necro like it was Thomas’s final act of protection.

TWO WEEKS LATER

TWENTY-NINE

DEAN

Back on my feet again after the help of Mila’s potions and the love of my fiancé and daughter, I headed into the narrow building with the pink fae sign swinging above it while Jake and Louise waited outside to watch the people skating on the frozen canal.

The snow as back, and the temperate had dropped considerably over the past fortnight. Luckily, it wasn’t as heavy as it’d been before.

I waited in line behind some folk in the fae post office. There were three counters manned by two fae women and a man. I watched the alcoves packed with letters and packages, sealed with glowing pink bars. Every so often, the bars would become one pink screen as they become full of post, and then go dark. A delivery was on its way into my home realm.

It’d taken me three days to write the letter to my dad, mainly because I didn’t want to admit I needed his help. Why would he care anyway? It wasn’t like he was the remotest bit interested in his grandchild. Social standing, parties and women—that was all he cared about. My mother had suffered him for years until she’d finally had the strength to realise she didn’t love him, nor he her, and started her new life in Singapore—my place of birth.

She’d insisted I speak with him, though. She was human, so couldn’t help me with Louise. Only he could.

I missed her and couldn’t wait for her next visit.

At the top of my to do list was now finding the fae woman who’d dared to take my daughter, along with, to a lesser extent, destroying that clay doll master and checking on that fae door in Flevopark. But not today. This was a time for my family and my first day out of the house. A lot of our cases had gone to our rival PIA agencies, but I didn’t care. The Jansens had written to us to say the tomato incident had been sorted. They didn’t have to tell us anything, but they were probably so disgusted by the woman’s pod usage that they were showing a rare display of solidarity.

Good. That was one more danger off the streets.

“Hallo,” the woman greeted me at my turn.

My boots clicked on the polished oak floor as I approached the counter. There were goblins in the post office, hurrying around with parcels and letters, stacking them inside the alcoves. Alive. Not piled up in a rotting mountain. There was still no information about that mass murder, the investigation ongoing. At least Rebus was liaising with us about it all—his closed off policy forgotten. In fact, Jake and I were investigating the property I’d found the goblins in, tracing a complicated line that may end up going nowhere. Still, it was something at least.

“How many I help?” the sun-kissed blonde fae asked.

“I need to post this.”

“Excellent. Ah, a letter to Lord Tseng.”

“Yes.”

She brought out her wax seal and stamp, marking the top right of the letter with the fae postal max in pink wax.

“One gold, please.”

I handed her the fae coin. Only Faerie currency could pay for post going to that realm. Anywhere that converted currency would fix that.

Usually, fae coins had an image of the king or queen on one side, plus the symbol of the four lands (Winter, Spring, Summer and Autumn) on the other. This was a newly minted coin, without the monarch. Things regarding the royal seat were complicated over there, and the throne was vacant.

I wondered if my dad would make a play for power. Didn’t matter how much of a party animal he was, though I couldn’t see him getting very far. He was too much of a prat.

I didn’t care. That wasn’t my life. Faerie could just get on with itself.

“Thanks,” I said as the woman handed my letter to the goblin.

“You’re welcome.” She smelled of sugar plum.

I nodded and left the post office, stepping out of the way of a busy goblin.

As I stepped outside, chaos erupted.

Screaming, cries of fury.

“Dean!” Jake yelled, Louise in his arms.

I took it in—the people jumping up and down, tripping in the snow as dolls of clay leapt onto their backs, ran inside cafes and shops to bring about disruption.

There he was, on the roof of a building on the other side of the canal. He was laughing as he dolls attacked.

“Fucker!” Jake boomed and crushed one under his foot, a mess of clay spreading across the snow.

“You thought you could defeat me!” the doll master cried like some dodgy villain from a B-movie, “but you will never stop me! No one will! This will be your lives from now on, under the fear of my children!”

His voice was pretty clear from up there. Did he have a built-in megaphone in his voice box? Probably an effect of his transformation from the pod he’d encountered.

“Get Louise inside,” I told Jake. She wasn’t crying, but her face was buried into his shoulder.

Would she use her power again? I didn’t want her to, no matter how useful it would be for her to freeze them all. Because we didn’t understand her gift yet, the less she used it the better. I didn’t want to supress her, but there was no telling if using it would hurt her by doing so. These things could be complicated. I wanted the all clear, and then we could help her. Even if my dad failed to lend a hand, I’d mine every single fae for information until I got what I wanted.

First, this idiot on the roof.

“What are you gonna do?” Jake asked.

“Make sure we get paid.”

Despite the chaos, he smirked and hurried into the fae post office.

“That’s it! Hide! Run!” the master yelled. “I am the king of Amsterdam!”

Dream on…

I darted down the path, taking the second bridge so it looked like I was running away. Had to hope this fool’s ego was big enough for him to think I was fleeing. I booted a clay doll that jumped into my path. It tumbled through the air and smashed across the frozen canal.

Keeping as flush as I could against the row of buildings on the other side of the water, I reached the building the doll master was on top of.

It was a café, full of people. A doll landed on my shoulder, smaller than the others. The terracotta critter went to bite my ear. I grabbed it and crushed it in my hand.

I held my PIA identification up at the window and I was let inside. Voices met me, pleading for me to make it stop, that the way to the roof was locked because the dolls were trying to get in.

I could hear the banging.

“Don’t worry. I’ll fix this.”

I hurried up steep, narrow stairs until I reached the top floor three storeys up. It was a small landing, with nothing but the door to the roof. The banging was louder, the force of it rattling the closed bolt locked across the dark wood.

Even if I’m out doing something as simple as visiting the post office, I always pack a potion or two. Exploders are always good to have to hand.

I placed one of the vials with white liquid in front of the door and stepped back. I took out a pale blue potion and threw it at the exploder as I ran back down the stairs.

BOOM!

Direct hit! I was at a safe distance so the door, blown off its hinges, didn’t crash into me. Half of it slid the stairs past me, along with a stream of water. I kept myself pinned to the wall. Clay dolls were caught up in the water, struggling, moistening. Not good for clay. I stamped on some of them, but left others as I went back up.

The other half of the door was on the landing, crushing some smaller dolls. I made a point to stomp heavily across the broken panel to mush them up.

Beyond the door, on the small stairwell to the roof was the epicentre of the water, a raging ball of liquid that trapped dolls inside, thrashing them around as if they were in a washing machine’s spin cycle. Those that weren’t inside were caught up in the water pouring out of it, or were lingering beyond, waiting.

I manoeuvred past the water ball and charged up the stairs.

The roof was dusted with snow and angry dolls. I kicked and stomped as the doll master ran across the rooftops, trying to get inside each building and failing. He’d gotten three buildings over, surrounded by his dolls.

I ran after him and he screamed.

“You will never defeat me!”

I really liked the effect that potion Mila had used on the Ricci twins. I’d made sure to buy some off her. Another good potion to have on you for these situations.

I didn’t want to blow the doll master up, just stop him and get him off the streets before he actually hurt someone.

He sent some dolls after me, and I leapt over them, crushed them, delivered kicks and punches in a blaze of need to kick arse.

I let the amber potion fly as I got close enough. It smashed and released its cloud all over the doll master.

As soon as it took hold, it was done. The boils erupted over his pale face, and the dolls dropped dead into the inanimate clay figures they were. He ripped off his coat and jumper, exposing his skinny frame, scratching at the boils and wailing for mercy.

“Stopped you,” I said.

He wailed some more.

THIRTY

JAKE

The day after the clay doll crap, I opened a letter as I sat at my desk. Dean had just come back from checking out the fae door with the Gaelic writing on it. Still closed, still giving nothing away about itself.

The damn drilling of the workmen had been driving me crazy all morning, but not now. All noise had been blocked out. My cuppa was helping to soothe me.

I read the handwritten letter.

Dear Jake,

I hope you’re well. I just wanted to say how pleased I was to see that you listened to me about the necromancer and his invisible lover. Spectacular, wasn’t it?

I want to help you out again, because things are getting interesting. I want to up the stakes. You’re right to think there are two of us, me being Parker, and Elijah the other. I’ll let you figure the rest of that out. Hey! Can’t have all the details! I want to leave you a little something to investigate.

It was a shame you weren’t the one to find the dead goblins. That was coming next, but never mind. I’m not disappointed. You can tell Rebus it was me. I killed them. Roberto was going to ruin everything by escaping and heading to tell you everything—how I’d used the trace of your DNA you’d left on my hand when we shook on our first meeting to break your wards, which I know you knew anyway, how I’d wanted to see how you dealt with that exploding man, how I used the goblins to harvest more of you for me to use later, then locked them up to shut them up. I’d had to kill Roberto after he’d fled, then the other prisoners. But that made things more fun. I so wanted you to find them. It wasn’t the same with Dean. Never mind. It was still a fun night dumping Roberto’s body on your doorstep only to have Thomas show up and murder Sander on your doorstep too! Talk about amazing! I loved watching your reaction in the snow.

Anyway, I’m telling you this because I want to move onto the next stage. There is so much to see from you, and I can’t wait to go on this adventure with you.

You fascinate me, Jake Winter. You have the blood of a goddess.

What else do you have for me to see?

Bye for now,

Parker Smith.

What. The. Fuck.

I wanted to hurl. It was him. He’d killed the goblins. That bastard! That fucking piece of shit! And now…

I wanted to hurl.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked.

With a trembling hand, I handed him the letter.

His chair scraped back, and he was on his feet. “I’m calling the police right now.”

“He…he’s playing with me. He had…more of me. Fuck. Fuck! What the fuck is he gonna do?”

Dean came by my side. My head rested against his stomach. “We’ll get him, baby. We’ll get both of them.”

Parker Smith. Elijah Hart. Twins after all. No, not quite. He wanted me to figure the rest of that out. What did it mean?

I fascinated him.

What the fuck?

What the fuck!

He’d killed those goblins, had traces of me to do God knew what with.

“It’s all here,” Dean said into his phone, his hand on my head as I wrapped my arms around his waist. “A solid confession.”

Why would he give himself up like that? For fun? All this was one big game?

Dean finished his call and crouched down. “Lars is coming over now.” He cupped my face in his hands. “We’ll get him, baby. I promise.”

“I…he…”

“Jake…”

“I don’t know what to do.”

I really didn’t. Not with the shock pounding me over and over again. I stood and held my fiancé tight, lost in his embrace, taking the knocks of revelation until I could function again. I would think better when the dust settled, and I’d bring a storm to whatever dark corner that fucking prick was lurking in.

Parker Smith would be brought to justice one way or another. But for now, I just wanted to hold the love of my life close.

Jake and Dean will return later in the year for their third adventure…

The Divine Roses

Coming November 27th 2020

Click on the cover image or click HERE to pre-order on Amazon!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Richard Amos is an author from England who is constantly lost in the worlds he writes about, and the ones in the queue yet to be written. He also has more books in his house than anything else and is never without a book (and chocolate) in his hands when he's not writing. He's a proud nerd who loves to dance. Hard. 

In a former life, he was definitely a merman.

Richard writes kick-ass Fantasy and Urban Fantasy with gay male protagonists, all with good doses of action, adventure and romance.

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ALSO BY RICHARD AMOS

Coldharbour Chronicles

Winter Rising

Winter Shadows

Winter Fire

Winter Blood

Winter Twilight

Dylan Rivers Chronicles

Siren’s Debt

Siren’s Call

Siren’s Heart

Siren’s Destiny

Jake and Dean Investigations

The Christmas Bones

The Charms of Death

The Divine Roses (November 27th 2020)

Four Moons

First Moon

Chaos Moon (June 5th 2020)