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Eight

    London thumbed off the phone, dropped it into the pocket of her leather jacket, and then leaned back with her elbows braced against the bar. The place smelled of meadows, wild flowers, and frost; the scents she’d come to associate with the various races of fey. On the far side of the long club the band called the Fey Bangers played covers of popular songs. The club gave out fake fey ears of various lengths and styles for the audience to wear. Those who didn’t already have pointed ears, that is. It was one of the few places where the fey and non-fey mingled so openly. Even the band was really fey, not that most of the humans had any clue. London being one of the few exceptions.
    But, then again, she hadn’t been ‘just human’ in a long time.
    Across the crowded club, London watched the band’s drummer. The Unseelie boy just turned eighteen, and it was hard to imagine the deadly Sidhe was really so young. At the end of the day, she served her patron, but Malcolm had managed to claw his way into her heart. Hard to believe, given their past, but somehow it managed to happen. Knowing that agent Granger was picking through the magical evidence around the destruction of the wizard’s headquarters meant that probably, sooner or later, he’d clue in on Malcolm.
    They’d saved each other that day, London and Malcolm. Neither of them could have seen that coming. If at all possible, she was hoping to avoid the need to have to save him again. Not when the train wreck of a kid was finally getting his life on track. He had his band, with its modicum of popularity, and his girl, the band’s lead singer. He deserved a break.
    Tilting back her beer, more to fit in than to actually drink it, London scanned the crowd. No one that looked like an Interpol agent trying to act casual. But there were more dangers than just government spooks to worry about.
    Like the vampire chatting up the fairy girl in the corner. Having worked with vampires and werewolves long before she got involved with the fey, London figured she had a good eye for the type. That insight wasn’t necessary this time. She recognized the bloke from Selena’s vampire club in Dublin, even if she couldn’t immediately put a name to that face. Apparently, the awareness was mutual, as the creep even had the gall to make eye contact with her and grin with an undisguised flash of fang. Word was getting out among the predators; fey was on the menu. And this wanker thought Selena’s best friend wouldn’t rat him out.
    Not on her watch.
    The fairy either hadn’t noticed the fangs, or thought they were fake, since so many of the humans were role-playing as supernaturals in this club. With a word of caution ready on her tongue, London started through the crowd towards them. The guy caught her intention, or he’d just timed it right, but he helped the fairy girl to her feet just then, her three-inch heels only bringing her to a dainty five feet in height. The iridescent wings, that looked far more real than the fake ones mounted to the back of the young ladies just playing the part for the party, shivered as the vampire whispered something that she no doubt found charming enough to invest trust in this stranger. The pair of them started towards the side exit into the alley, the vampire’s hand against the girl’s low back, escorting her to her doom. Fey blood could cause a wicked addiction, and not all vampires knew how to pull back before taking too much. And many of them didn’t care.
    The door closed on quiet hydraulic hinges before London reached it. Any scream from the alley before the door blocked the sound probably still couldn’t have been heard. Not over the solo Malcolm pounded across the drum set before him. It was another several seconds before London shoved herself through the last of the crowd and out the door into the cool, dark alley beyond. More than long enough for a vampire to use his speed to carry off a victim to her death. With her heart