CHAPTER Eight
I checked my watch as I barrelled out of Clava Books and sprinted back home, feeling a burst of sudden renewed energy from Aubrey’s intelligence. It was still early evening so that meant that there was plenty of time to prepare myself. Nightclubs weren’t generally my thing, and Unseelie Fae nightclubs even less. If I was going to inveigle my way inside and get hold of this Tarn, then I had to be ready for every eventuality. The promise of what could finally be a real lead on Endor’s whereabouts had set my bloodfire tingling. I smiled to myself as I unlocked my shiny red front door. It was about time things started to go my way.
Once inside, I quickly plonked myself down at the kitchen table with my laptop, lifting the lid and logging on to the Othernet. As promised, as soon I was connected, huge warning signs and plaintives requesting information about Endor popped up. At least the other council members were doing something right. A photo and caption towards the bottom of the page caught my eye and I frowned, clicking on it. As soon as I did so, a vast photo of Corrigan flashed up. My eyes lingered on it. He was wearing dark trousers and a green shirt that highlighted the jade of his eyes. My stomach squirmed. Quashing down those feelings as best as I could, I scrolled down, staring in horror at what was written there.
Our very own Lord Alpha, pictured here at a local fundraising event, seems to have gotten himself into a rather fiery situation. After disappearing for a few days, apparently into the wilds of rural Shropshire, he was spotted with an as yet unnamed redhead. Word is that the draconian Brethren leader was smitten. That is until she unceremoniously – and very publicly - gave him the old heave-ho. A lesser man may have burst into flames of eternal embarrassment at the snub. Not so our dark-haired were-panther, however, as the very day after he was spotted with a brand new squeeze. No doubt the mysterious redhead is spitting fire at his fast recovery.
F*cking hell. Seriously f*cking hell. I let out an inarticulate yell into the screen and I could feel little explosions of heat flaring up through my intestines. This wasn’t just some inane piece of gossip from a tawdry Otherworld blogger. It was effectively calling me out. ‘Fiery situation’? ‘Draconian brethren leader’? Oh, this self-styled journalist was going to see exactly just how much fire I really was capable of spitting out if I caught up to them. It now appeared that the whole f*cking world was about to know about my Draco Wyr heritage. The only thing that this spelled was trouble. Why the f*ck couldn’t this have happened after Endor was taken care of? Not only was there the chance that the necromancer himself might read it and I’d lose any element of surprise I could have had when I finally tracked him down, transformed into a dragon and bit his sorry little head off, but now I’d have all manner of idiots wanting to know more about me. The way that even the Arch-Mage and the Summer Queen had behaved before the events at Haughmond Hill, with their determination to follow me around and encourage my allegiance to them, had been sickening. I didn’t need it from every other Tom, Dick and Otherworld Harry at the same time. And that wasn’t even to mention the mysterious ‘they’ who’d been after my mother, or rather me, in order to theoretically rid the world of the Draco Wyr line once and for all. I thought of Iabartu and what she had tried to do and thumped the table in bitter frustration. I did not f*cking need this.
I searched the page for any signs as to who might have written it. They were going to feel my wrath. Except there was no hint anywhere of the author’s name. My mouth twisted as I stared angrily at the article. Could it have been Corrigan himself? Was this his way of getting back at me? I shook my head. No. He might have been hurt to the core by what I’d done to him, but there was no way that he’d be this stupid. It had to be someone else. I took in a gulp of air and held it in my lungs, trying desperately to compose myself. I had to focus on the matter at hand – interrogating this Unseelie Fae about Endor – and not my own sorry state of affairs. I exhaled slowly, focusing on the calming techniques that I’d learnt at anger management. Eventually I managed to force my muscles back into a more relaxed position. I’d just have to worry about what the results of the apparent exposé would be later.
Typing in ‘Circle nightclub’ into the search engine, I took another deep breath. Focus, Mack. I clicked on the first result that came up and a sleekly designed website appeared. I made a note of the address, then searched the rest of the pages to see what else I could dig up. Other than promising an exclusive clientele, designer cocktails and heart-popping beats, there was little other information. Tarn, the nightclub’s owner, was conspicuously absent. I’d have to hope that his lack of presence in the virtual world didn’t translate into the real world as well. If he wasn’t going to be at the club tonight then, in the mood I was in, I might not be responsible for my actions.
Switching quickly over to email, I sent the council members an update on what had happened with Wold. Or rather what hadn’t happened with Wold. I included that Slim hadn’t yet uncovered anything helpful, but left off the information about Tarn. I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up just yet. I instructed them to tell me what they were up to, and to forward on the list of other planes that they were going to start investigating, and finished with a curt demand for Staines to meet me the following afternoon. I hadn’t forgotten about his alleged desire to keep me firmly out of the loop as far as Wold had been concerned, or his orders to do whatever was necessary to extract more information from her. Despite my words to Alex about not wanting to lose my temper, it was high time I put the werebear in his place. If Corrigan thought I was stepping on his toes by doing so, then tough.
I powered down the laptop and closed my eyes. I might not entirely trust him after the events at Alcazon, but I was going to need some help and guidance with this venture and Solus was going to be the best person to provide it. Without raising my voice, I softly called out his name. Nothing happened. I tried again. When all that resulted was the answering silence of my little flat, I peeled off the surgical tape and cotton wool from my arm and started to pick at the already forming scab. I knew that he’d have registered my call, wherever he happened to be, but I was also aware that unless he thought it was an emergency, he’d probably take his sweet time in getting around to showing up. I didn’t want to wait.
A tiny drop of blood squeezed out. Using my index finger, I wiped it off then went to my front door and opened it, wandering down the corridor and back into the outside world. I smeared the fleck of blood onto the grey of the pavement, then stood up and leaned against the wall. It didn’t take long. There was a buzz in the air behind me, as Solus winked into existence, clearly choosing to materialise himself from within the building so as to avoid any surprised human eyes catching sight of his ability to appear from nowhere. I turned to face him, noting the tentative smile on his handsome face. Without saying a word, I gestured him to my flat, then followed him inside and firmly closed the door behind us.
Solus scanned my face. He was quite obviously desperate to find out exactly what had transpired to cause me to have a huge bruise splashed across my cheekbone, and one very swollen and painful eye, but the air of awkwardness between us thankfully prevented him from doing so.
“What’s up, dragonlette?”
“I need to get into the Circle nightclub tonight and talk to Tarn, its owner. Can you help?”
A shadow passed across his indigo eyes. “It’s not a very friendly place.”
I shrugged. “That’s okay. I’m not a very friendly person.”
His jaw clenched. “Are we still friends?” he asked softly.
“I understand what happened and why it happened, Solus. I signed on, remember? But I’m pissed off that you couldn’t have spoken to me about it beforehand. I thought that I could trust you to have my back.”
“I do have your back, dragonlette. I’ll always have your back. I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you, but…”
“But the Summer Queen demands your obeisance,” I finished.
“She’s only trying to do what’s best for everyone.”
I sighed heavily. “As are we all.” I eyed the Fae. If I could forgive Aubrey for what he’d done in the past by being practically responsible for the deaths of two of my friends, then I guessed I could forgive Solus for not warning me beforehand about what was going to happen at Alcazon. “It’s okay. I get it. And it’s done now, let’s just move on.”
Solus’ eyes searched mine, then he seemed to relax. “Did you read the book?”
I nodded mutely.
“He’ll come around, dragonlette. Once all this is over, he’ll realise the error of his ways and the two of you can live happily ever after.”
I wasn’t quite so sure about that. Before I could say anything, however, a mischievous gleam lit up his face. “And if Corrigan doesn’t, I’m always here.”
I shot him a look of exasperation. “Who translated the book, Solus?”
“Me.” The surprise must have shown on my face because he elaborated further. “I didn’t want everyone knowing what was in it. I love my extended Fae family but, well, they are Fae. They’re not always known for their discretion.”
“Does the Summer Queen know what’s in it?”
“Only the bare bones.” He turned serious again. “She doesn’t know that there might be another, you know, another Draco Wyr hanging around somewhere.”
I scanned his face, trying to ascertain whether he was telling the truth or not. Eventually satisfied, I shrugged. “It’s not definite that there is. And even if I do have a twin, I think the best thing they could do is stay as far away from me as possible.”
He looked confused, so I explained about the article I’d just read on the Othernet. A flicker of pure rage was momentarily visible in his eyes, before he quickly masked it. “Do you want me to try and find who wrote it?”
Focusing on more important things, I shook my head. “Not right now. I need to concentrate on Endor. Aubrey seems sure that this Tarn bloke might know something about him. I need to find out exactly what.”
“I meant what I said before, dragonlette; it’s really not a very nice place.”
I raised my eyebrows slightly. “Are you suggesting that it’s going to be too much for me to handle?”
“God forbid,” said Solus in mock horror. He looked me over critically. “We will need to do something about your outfit first though.”
I looked down at my jeans and t-shirt. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Dragonlette, sometimes you are very sweet.”
I growled at him. He laughed musically. “Give me half an hour. I’ll sort you out.”
The air began to shimmer with streaks of purple again. Before he could vanish, I called out. “Solus, my f*cking name is Mack.”
He winked at me, merriment dancing in his eyes. “’Course it is, dragonlette.”
I rolled my eyes. Idiot.