He is a dark one,she replied unhappily.
But what does that mean?
He was lost to the darkness.It was clear from her tone that she felt like she’d explained enough. In my head, she turned around three times and sank down, her back to me. She was ignoring me.
Fine,I muttered at her.I’ll figure it out myself.
You’ll have to,she whined softly. She was upset, distressed at keeping something from me.
I wasn’t feeling all flowers and light either. I didn’t like the rift between us. Come back, okay?
I will never leave,she responded, and I was flooded with love and affection. We were a team, and she wasn’t going anywhere. But she was still upset and needed some down time. I got that; we all need alone time now and again, and it’s in short supply when you’re bound to another being for the rest of your combined lives.
I left her alone, curled up and miserable, her presence like a throbbing toothache I couldn’t quite ignore. I headed to the library; although I’d said I wouldn’t pressure Esme, I didn’t say I was going to stop looking for answers. Something was going on, and I was missing a huge piece of the puzzle. As usual, I was on the back foot, and I hated being ignorant. Luckily, Lord Samuel had acquired an extensive library during his lifetime, and my private lounge was wall-to-wall bookshelves.
Night was drawing in, so I flipped on the lights to chase away the shadows from the room. Mrs Dawes had lit the fire in the grate, and the scent of wood smoke pervaded the room. Something in me settled as I heard the sound of the fire crackling. A good book and a fire; I was in heaven. All I needed now was a crisp glass of white wine and for Bobby to be home safe.
I promised myself that we’d see it done. I had to be optimistic, or I’d cease to function. I couldn’t bear to think of little Bobby, my cheeky grinning pup, being scared and alone. It froze me.Enough,I told myself firmly. Stop focusing on the problem and find the damned answer. As I often did in times of quandary, I turned to the books.
Lord Samuel was an eccentric character, but luckily he’d been an organised one and his bookshelves were arranged neatly. They weren’t alphabetised, but the books were grouped together by topic, so all I had to do was find a section on gargoyles. Easier said than done when there were so many shelves. I’m a book lover at heart, albeit my tastes tend more towards fiction than fact, and I could see myself happily whiling away many hours exploring the treasures that they held. However, now I was on a mission, and I impatiently scanned the titles to identify each subject before moving onto the next.
There were sections on elementals, pipers and witches, all topics that I would have loved to dive into but gargoyles were more important. I had just located their section when there was a knock at the door.
‘Come,’ I called, and Mrs Dawes opened the door with a dramatic sweep.
She usually wore her hair in a bob, loose around her face, but lately she’d been growing it out and it had started to curl around her shoulders. Today she had tied it back, showing her elegant neck and heart-shaped jawline. It looked nice, but somehow made her less approachable.
‘Ms Amber DeLea to see you, ma’am,’ she announced.
‘Thank you. Show her in,’ I instructed.
Amber DeLea was in the running to become the next Symposium member for the witches. The Symposium is the Connection’s equivalent to the Houses of Parliament, so Amber is a Very Important Person – and she knows it, as her attitude and her fees testify. But I’d never met someone who projected competence like she does. You know you’re in safe hands when Amber DeLea is looking after you.
She swept in wearing an air of superiority like a cloak. Today her vibrant red hair was loose, her make-up was freshly applied and she was sporting bright red lipstick, which reminded me of warpaint. Her signature black skirt swished around her legs and her pale-blue peasant top was tied neatly around her neck. Her ever-present black tote bag was slung over her shoulder.
Mrs Dawes backed out, closing the door gently behind her; no doubt she’d be back shortly with tea and biscuits because we’re British and that’s how we roll.
‘Lucy,’ Amber greeted me coolly. I’d like to think we’re friends, but I’m not sure that Amber DeLea has got any friends. Besides, she’d been distinctly glacial since I’d accidentally got her kidnapped a few weeks ago. I mean, sheesh, it wasn’t on purpose.
I gave her a finger wave. ‘Hey, Am,’ I greeted her.
Her eyes narrowed and her lips tightened. One does not give Amber DeLea a nickname, not unless one is a cheeky alpha werewolf. ‘Do you have the item?’ she asked, straight down to business.
‘No, the mother is fetching it from home. She should be back in a few minutes.’
Amber nodded briskly and, unbidden, sat on one of the sofas. I examined her closely. Despite the careful make up, the bags under her eyes were still peeking through and her eyes were strained. ‘Are you okay?’ I asked in all seriousness. ‘You look tired.’
‘I’ve already scried someone else today, and it takes its toll, but I can do one more.’
‘Couldn’t you have sent another witch?’
‘Not for something as important as this. I want to see if—’ She stopped abruptly.
The cogs in my mind started to turn. ‘You scried someone else earlier today? Is someone else missing?’
‘Client confidentiality is paramount in my business,’ Amber replied elusively.
‘But someone elseismissing.’ I made it a statement and she didn’t deny it. ‘This is important. Is it another kid? If it is, give me a clue. If someone is snatching Other kids, then we need to work together to find them.’