The Silver Cage Page 7

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘it’s already dark. Moon’s up. We should go.’

  Iris frowned. ‘Moon? Oh, I didn’t know it was . . . Do you have a route planned? This is central London. I have no idea what the lyc situation is.’

  ‘Well, yeah,’ said Vikram, ‘that’s kind of the situation, isn’t it? We need to find out what the situation is.’ He smiled and passed her the familiar crossbow that was sitting on the table by her bed.

  Cobalt was really nothing like the Institute. The Institute of Paraphysiology had been housed in an abandoned bingo hall in a rundown and tired part of Oxford, with not a single thought given to repairing the damp proofing or redecorating. The foyer still had the old posters advertising various long-past special deals and promotions. Cobalt – if the bare fact that they had their own medical ward wasn’t enough – was bright and shiny through and through, like a pharmaceutical company crossed with an advertising agency. As Iris followed Vikram through understatedly plush corridors, past big glossy windows open to the darkening London skyline and into a shiny lift, she wondered if maybe she had landed on her feet.

  Cobalt she knew was slap bang in the middle of Westminster, just off Whitehall. Officially/unofficially it was part of the Home Office, jointly and generously funded by both the British government and the Vampire Clan Council itself.

  As they exited the lift, Iris couldn’t help comparing the dusty old yard behind the Institute with this brightly strip-lit underground space. And, where transport at the Institute had been a rickety old army truck with a canvas roof, here at Cobalt, Vikram ushered her into a luxuriously upholstered black SUV, with tinted windows and every premium added extra. And, in fact, Iris noticed, there wasn’t just one. The underground garage boasted a whole fleet of these luxury streamliners.

  Vikram drove. Iris listened to the gentle purr the engine made compared with the Institute truck’s hacking splutter. The SUV glided up the ramp out of the garage and into dusky London.

  ‘So,’ said Vikram a little while later, as they slid along Park Lane, ‘where should we head?’

  ‘Um, hard to say. Have you looked into any reports of animal attacks at full moon? I don’t know what the situation is in London at all.’

  ‘I did look briefly. I didn’t find anything.’

  ‘Maybe there aren’t any lycs loose in London. I just don’t know. They don’t like it too urban. And you can’t get much more urban than this.’

  ‘I guess,’ said Vikram. ‘I mean, if there were lycans in London, we’d know. Someone would have spotted them.’

  ‘Maybe. But the Silver Crown covered a lot of things up. We can’t be sure.’

  ‘The Silver Crown? I saw that in the files. The reason lycs have managed to stay so secret is that they had some kind of governance organisation keeping attacks hushed up.’

  ‘I guess, yeah. The Silver Crown. They had a lot of power because of the Divine – the mother wolf. She was part of their circle of twelve. They used her power. Somehow.’

  ‘God, yeah, maybe they siphoned it off somehow and sold it to witches. Witches love a source of ancient power like that.’

  Iris nodded. ‘Yeah. Maybe. I think there was some witch involvement. I’m not really sure how it all worked. Blake was the expert in that side of it. I just used to kill stuff, mostly.’

  ‘I’d imagine it would be easier for lycs to keep things covered up. They’re human most of the time. Completely undetectable and full human reasoning. It’s pretty clear they’d be able to police themselves. Vamps are different. They need us. It’s the vulnerability to sunlight that’s the kicker for them. But it means that a band of humans can control vamps pretty easily with light boxes – even with all the damn power they’ve got. That’s why vamps keep themselves to themselves and don’t cause much trouble any more. They know we can take them.’

  ‘So what does Cobalt do?’

  ‘Mostly we work for the Clan Council. Sort out any problems. We work like the vamp police force. And we help keep their existence secret. I guess we’re their Silver Crown.’

  ‘Yeah, well, the Silver Crown are over. I killed them.’ Iris said quietly, feeling almost ashamed of it. She had a woozy confused memory of Blake helping her down on to the floor of the cavern where he’d found her; manipulating her into the recovery position; covering her in a blanket and then standing back and saying, ‘Fuck. You killed six Ancient Beasts in here, Iris.’ She remembered him collecting their sparkling crowns and putting them in his bag. He ignored Matthew, who was still slumped and silent in one corner. He took the Silver Collar that lay on the floor too.

  As she lay there, sucking gently on a damp cloth Blake had slipped into her mouth, he took his time photographing all the bodies before disposing of them with the magical powder he used. Typical Blake. Work first, medical emergencies second.

  ‘Yeah, well,’ said Vikram, bringing her back to the SUV stopped at a red light, ‘that’s good, right? It means now we’ll be able to take the motherfuckers out.’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘But what will really get us into Dr Cobalt’s good books is if we find this unstable Ancient Beast guy. They seem to think he’s in London.’

  ‘Yeah. Blake traced him to . . .’ God, where was Blake? All Erin told Iris in the end was that Blake left after he rescued Iris. ‘Um, London. Yes.’ Iris twisted her mouth. ‘He’s, uh, he’s my ex-boyfriend, actually.’

  ‘Blake?’

  ‘Alfie. But Blake’s my ex too. My ex-husband. Well, we’re kind of still married. Estranged, I guess.’

  ‘Really? That must be weird.’

  ‘Yeah, well, that’s why I do this. There was an attack. My twin brother Matt was killed. Alfie was turned. Um, well, and here I am.’

  ‘Makes sense,’ said Vikram. ‘Most lycan-hunter types have some kind of reason to be in the game.’

  ‘What about vamp-hunter types? Do you have some kind of reason to be in the game?’

  Vikram shook his head. ‘Nah. We’re just recruited in the normal way.’

  Iris didn’t ask what ‘the normal way’ might be. Something covert, no doubt. It wasn’t like Cobalt advertised for trainee operatives in the paper. Instead, she said, ‘So, what’s the plan?’

  ‘Well, I thought we’d park up here,’ said Vikram, pulling into a small side street, ‘and keep an ear on the radio. London’s full of green spaces we could hit. We’re only a block from Hyde Park here. Maybe we’ll get lucky.’

  14

  THEY SAT IN the car and waited. Iris still felt a little woozy. Four days in the cavern, and before that she’d been trapped in the cellar. Then – what? – nearly a month recovering at Cobalt. And now here she was, back at work. The car heater was warm around her legs. Her eyelids felt a little droopy. It was so unlike Iris to lose her edge like this, to give in to sleep. And yet . . .

  She drifted. She was back in that underground cavern. The six Ancient Beasts she had killed were dead on the floor. Alfie was standing in front of her naked, his body covered in scars from the crown’s torture, and she was telling him how she had killed four more beasts in the tunnels to get to him.

  But then, instead of the Divine appearing behind her and whisking Alfie away into thrall, Alfie strode over to her and took her in his arms. He kissed her deep and long, the way she craved like she was starving.

  ‘Oh, God,’ he whispered against her cheek. ‘You came for me, Iris. I knew you would.’

  Iris squirmed, slightly aware of where she was, in the Cobalt SUV. She knew she was dreaming and yet she couldn’t bear to lift herself back to reality.

  Alfie was licking at her jaw. She felt something. Something real. There really was someone licking her jaw. But Alfie, she wanted Alfie.

  Iris. Iris half opened one eye. She looked out of the passenger window. Matthew’s ghostly figure stood out on the pavement.

  Iris, wake up. Don’t let this happen. But Iris shook her head. In her lucid dream she was on the floor of the cavern. Alfie was on top of her and she could fe
el the weight of his body, half crushing her. So real. So real. He wrenched at her combat trousers, ripping a chunk of the fabric away. Enough to fuck her. Thrusting into her, fast and greedy, he whispered, ‘You came to find me, Iris. You came for me.’ His fingers were on her clit. She screamed at the sensation. ‘You came for me, Iris. Come for me. Come for me.’

  Iris. Matthew was yelling, his voice enough to rip her eyes open again.

  ‘Matt, I . . .’

  Alfie was receding. She couldn’t feel his cock inside her any more, or his thick fingers on her clit. But she still felt the weight of his body on top of her. Except . . . no. Not his body. Not Alfie.

  The next thing she felt was a strange damp tickle at her mouth. She spluttered and tried to pull her head back, but the deeply padded headrest was firm behind her and Vikram’s hands – because, of course, it was Vikram – were unnaturally strong on each side of her face. He was sitting on her lap, straddling her, his groin tight against hers.

  ‘Vikram,’ Iris said, muffled into his mouth.

  Vikram pulled back a little, but still held Iris’s head. ‘Iris? Is something wrong?’

  ‘Is something wrong?’ she whispered. ‘You’re kissing me.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Well, er, why?’

  ‘Why? You fell asleep. Don’t you bond like this at the Institute of Paraphysiology? At Cobalt we think it’s good to have a sexual bond in a team. It helps if you are working together. I thought . . . You said that you and Blake . . .’

  Iris squinted. ‘What? No! Blake and I were just . . . We fell for each other. We were married. You’re telling me Cobalt are some kind of sex cult? ’Cause I’m sure if that were the case Blake would have known about it. And Blake would have said. In fact, Blake would have never shut up about it.’

  ‘Really?’ Vikram said, his voice a soft burr. He was still holding Iris’s face. He seemed so much stronger than he ought to be.

  Iris looked into his big dark eyes. God, they were amazing eyes – melting chocolate pools, huge long camel lashes. Why did she want him to stop kissing her again? ‘Vikram,’ Iris murmured. She knew it was an open invitation.

  ‘Vik. Call me Vik.’

  As he leant back into the kiss, something inside Iris thought that maybe this was something magical. That she shouldn’t want this, not like this. Alfie had told her about lure, a power male werewolves had when the full moon was close to convince women to come to their beds. Was this lure? But Vikram wasn’t a lyc.

  Iris could see the moon hanging in the sky, fat and creamy white. Except, no, that wasn’t a full moon . . . Not quite.

  ‘It isn’t a full moon,’ Iris said dreamily. ‘It’s a day off, going to be full tomorrow. That isn’t quite full.’

  ‘No. I know. I never said it was a full moon. This is just an exercise.’ He kissed her again.

  ‘An exercise?’

  Vikram’s lips were soft and oddly cool on Iris’s. He tasted faintly of coffee.

  ‘I mean,’ Vikram said as he pulled away a little, ‘unless you still want that wolf?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They say werewolf hunters are mostly sniffers.’ He shrugged.

  Iris’s mouth opened to say something but he went on.

  ‘Nothing to be ashamed of. It’d give you an edge. I can see that. Do you still love him? Your ex? Even now he’s what he is?’

  Iris shook her head. ‘No. God, no. I’m not a sniffer. I don’t love him. Can’t. He’s a lycan. Lycs killed my brother. I just want revenge. My brother . . .’

  ‘Hmm.’ Tight close and heavy on Iris’s lap, Vikram drew back a little and slipped his hand up her red shirt. He cupped it over her left breast, stroking her nipple with his thumb. ‘Well, that’s good. It’s not really the same with vampire hunters. We don’t tend to become bloodfuckers in the same way. Well, except for interrogators. You know, it’s almost impossible to really interrogate a vampire ’cause of their psychic powers. When they had Darius Cole that time, God, they tried everything. But vamps love human sex. They’re drawn to it. It’s their biggest weakness. You know, another reason we sometimes have sex with each other at Cobalt is that it can be a good lure for vamps. They love it. They can’t have sex. Well, they can, but they don’t have orgasms unless they do this creepy blood-rites thing. They’re attracted to human sex. It’s the hottest thing to them, mysterious and freaky. Taboo.’

  ‘Really,’ Iris said, a little breathless as Vikram kept teasing her nipple as he spoke. Something about the way he was talking turned her on. She’d never thought about vampires before, only heard Blake and Dr Tobias dismiss them as corpses. All the times Blake had called her a sniffer, he’d never once suggested she might be a bloodfucker, turned on by vampires. The erotic power of vampires was a story, nothing like the reality. But, God, the way Vik was talking made them sound so, well, so sexy.

  ‘Lycs aren’t like that,’ Iris muttered as his mouth hovered above hers. ‘They love sex, though. They’re really highly sexed. And sometimes they take human women, claim them, call them life mates. Sometimes at the Institute we talked about looking into that – but we never did.’ She closed her eyes, drifting. ‘Alfie, just after he was bitten, before we knew . . . I was in a bad place, confused and full of grief. And all he wanted to do was fuck. That was the first thing that changed. He was incredibly sexual before, but that first month, sometimes, it was like there was nothing else to him. And the way he fucked me then. The way we were together. United in grief, in horrors we couldn’t talk about. No one believed us. We described the monster and no one listened. Of course, now I know the Silver Crown had probably been there, covering things up. But then it felt like there were just the two of us and then the rest of the world. I was between worlds, I guess. Moving from the human world I knew into a world of the paranormal.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Vikram ducked his head down and kissed her again. For the first time – and with her head full of Alfie – Iris kissed him back.

  Vikram kissed her lips, her cheek, her chin. He slid down and around and pressed his lips to her neck. Iris moaned, almost in frustration as he missed her secret spot – that sensitive place on her jawline.

  ‘The way he fucked me then,’ Iris half sobbed. Thinking of Alfie. Nothing but Alfie. Partly her dream, partly her memories. Alfie’s body over hers like a canopy, like a shield, blotting out the world. The world defined by her dead brother, ripped open in the night only to be replaced by his screaming ghost. His body. Alfie. Safety and protection. A harbour. Out of the storm. Except, except it wasn’t safe under Alfie. She’d been in his bed the afternoon before his first full moon. Only luck had sent her home before his first change.

  His eyes were gold in her memory. Had they been gold that afternoon? She wasn’t sure. Golden eyes, that subtle werewolf tell that somehow only ever seemed obvious in retrospect.

  And the way he’d fucked her. That afternoon. That month before he changed. Even before he was bitten. Even later when they found each other again. Vicious, almost cruel. Driven, powered by his lust, his need. Alfie had always been a slave to his own body.

  Vikram kissed Iris’s neck over and over. And then Iris realised she really didn’t feel well at all.

  Everything swam into darkness.

  15

  ‘REALLY, IRIS, WHAT were you thinking?’

  It was Erin Cobalt talking; Iris was lying in her bed at Cobalt. It was dark outside, still night. ‘Have you any idea how unwell you are? I could tell from the files that you were dedicated to your job but this is quite ridiculous. You were dehydrated, seriously infected, both your shoulders were dislocated. You were hours from death when Tabernacle found you. Hours. I don’t care how being this close to a full moon might affect you after all this time. You are in no state to be out of bed yet, let alone attempting to plan a werewolf hunt. We’ll sedate you, if we have to. You need to rest.’

  As she listened to Erin’s voice, Iris wondered how Erin knew she was listening to her. Iris still hadn’t opened her eye
s more than an undetectable crack.

  Erin continued, ‘Now, I must say, we don’t really agree with solving medical problems with witchcraft. Of course, we all know what happens when fatal injuries are reversed by witchcraft. Nasty business. But, as you are so very important to our future plans, I am willing to give you a small dose of –’

  Iris’s eyes snapped open. ‘No. Sedate me.’

  ‘Iris, it’s really fine.’ That wasn’t Erin speaking. It was someone else, someone standing behind Erin, someone heart-soaringly familiar.

  ‘Cate?’

  Cate was standing right behind Erin, looking strangely messy and shabby-dusty in the sparkling spot-lit hi-tech of Cobalt. As she moved forwards, Iris blinked; Cate seemed to be actually trailing dirt and dust in her wake.

  Even though it was night-time – the clock on the wall said half-past eleven – the building site next door seemed to be still hard at work. Iris could just make out the floodlights bouncing off the cranes and the low hum of machinery.

  As Cate leant over the bed, Iris found herself coughing. Cate put a hand on Iris’s forehead. Her skin felt sticky and warm. Iris squirmed. Cate looked over her shoulder and said to Erin, ‘She could do with a little dose. Just something to aid her recovery.’

  Erin nodded.

  ‘Cate. No. No magic,’ Iris said weakly.

  ‘I’ll have her back within the hour,’ Cate said and suddenly her hand on Iris’s forehead felt very heavy and tight.

  Iris felt panic rising inside her. She couldn’t move or speak, and she couldn’t keep her eyes open . . .

  16

  IN ANOTHER MOMENT Iris was lying on something hard, something stone. Her eyes, which had felt like they were glued shut a moment ago, opened naturally. Iris looked up. Above her was a huge vaulted ceiling, the light that fell on her face was dirty, dappling candlelight. She tipped her head back. Behind her was a huge stained-glass window, its colours muted to various shades of black-with-a-hint-of by the night sky outside. She was in the belly of a building, something magnificent and sacred. She was lying on the floor of a church.