TWENTY-NINE
Aly’s hands shook as she poured whisky into the glass, her knuckles white against the crystal of the decanter as she set it down on the walnut sideboard with a thud.
Shock rippled through her, intense enough to make her lightheaded.
She clutched the edge of the sideboard, the wood smooth beneath her fingertips as she lifted the glass to her lips with one trembling arm.
The whisky burned on the way down, its warmth spreading to her extremities.
She shouldn’t be shocked, she knew that.
Nothing that had happened was in the slightest bit shocking.
She’d always known Calum would discover the truth about her and be done with her.
She’d just thought it would be something slightly worse than kissing Grant that did it.
She downed the rest of the glass, clamping her mouth shut as it seared her throat.
She shouldn’t have come back here. Without Calum’s help, she had no way to bring down Grant.
The prospect of months—years, even—of tiptoeing around Grant’s moods, of clinging to the memories of when he was good to her to keep her going through all the times he was horrid, made her stomach curdle.
She poured another measure of whisky. There was still time to leave, still time to dye her hair and change her name, to go to a dosshouse and somehow scrape together a living while staying beneath Grant’s notice. Still time to—
Her fingers tightened on the glass at the sound of the door snicking open. She’d missed her chance. Her heart cratered, but she forced herself to smile. She could do this without Calum. She could bring down Grant without a copper’s help.
The expression on his face flattened her resolve in an instant. His gaze bored into her, his lips curling back to bare his teeth as he stormed into the room, his frock coat billowing in his wake.
“So you’re shagging a copper,” he snarled. It wasn’t a question.
The glass slipped from her fingers, tumbling to the red and gold rug beneath her feet. Its contents spilled out, scorching her nostrils with their astringent fumes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, but her voice shook.
Grant’s eyes flicked to the glass lying on the rug and the spreading darkness on the wool. “Don’t you?” He took a step closer. Aly stepped back, the sideboard digging into the small of her back.
She held up her hands, palms out, the slender white fingers quivering under his scrutiny. “It’s not what you think.”
Grant moved closer until his hands rested on the sideboard on either side of Aly’s waist. His lips twisted in a snarl, his forehead furrowed with fury. “And what is it that I think?” His tone was soft and measured, the sound turning Aly’s insides to ice.
Aly wet her lips, taking a single quivering breath.
She opened her mouth to speak, then choked, the air punching out of her lungs with a single twist of Grant’s chin.
She tried to inhale, but to no avail; he was blocking her windpipe as surely as if he held his hands to her neck, her pleas clogging her throat as her heartbeat spasmed.
Grant leant in, so close that his breath tickled her ear, air so tantalisingly close and yet unattainable. “Don’t bother. I can’t trust that it won’t be more lies.”
Air whooshed into her lungs and she spluttered, coughing until tears came to her eyes.
She bent over double, her shoulders heaving as she clung to the sideboard for support.
“Please,” she gasped. “Please let me explain.” She had to tell him something, something he would believe, or he’d punish her as a traitor.
Grant leant towards her and she tensed, but he reached past her for the decanter and two more glasses, pouring a measure of whisky for each of them and passing a glass to her.
She clamped her fingers around the glass to keep her hand from trembling.
Grant took a sip, his honey-coloured eyes never leaving her face.
“How can I trust you to tell the truth?”
Aly mirrored him, the whisky giving her a second to think. “Because I have nothing to hide.”
“You were seen with a copper. At first, I thought it was a mistake, that you’d never do something like that.
But then he came to my office today, and I saw the way he looked at you,” Grant said.
“At us. His jealousy was all over his face.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, as though he wondered how she might wrangle her way out of this.
“Why do you think I didn’t do anything to help you out when you were arrested? ”
Aly’s heart plummeted. It had been a test, to see if Calum would let her go. And Aly had failed.
“And you lied.”
Three small words, but they carried such vitriol that Aly shrank back.
“I asked you about him, and you lied, saying you hadn’t seen him since he arrested you. How can I trust you now?”
Aly’s pulse throbbed in her ears as she frantically tried to come up with an answer, anything to buy some time. Grant had never looked at her like this before; no matter how angry he’d been previously, he’d never had this cold, detached fury on his face when he looked at her.
“I didn’t say anything sooner, even when you asked, because there wasn’t anything to tell.
” Her heart thudded high in her chest and she swallowed hard.
“He arrested me for the murder of that burgess, near the Copper Kettle. I—persuaded him not to charge me, and I saw an opportunity to learn what he was up to.” She set the whisky glass down on the sideboard; it shook too much to hide her nerves.
“I figured you’d want to know what the police knew about a murder that happened in your territory.
” She tossed her head, trying to look casual.
“I never told you because they’re so incompetent they haven’t found anything out. ”
“Anything that he’s told you, anyway,” Grant said. His face betrayed no emotion, sending a shiver down Aly’s spine.
Aly raised an eyebrow, giving a half smile. “Trust me, I’ve been very persuasive.”
Grant gave a chuckle. “I’m sure you have.” The knot in Aly’s chest loosened. He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, his fingers threading in her hair. “And yet you’ve learnt nothing from him, you say.”
He smashed her head into the sideboard. Agony cracked across the side of her skull, scattering stars across her vision. She tumbled to the ground, the fallen glass shattering beneath her knee. Sharp pain flared across her kneecap as her weight drove the glass into her flesh.
Grant crouched before her, wrenching her chin up so she looked him in the eye. “You’re cliping to him, aren’t you?”
Aly tried to shake her head, but his grip on her chin held her fast. Tears stung her eyes. “No,” she whimpered. “I’d never.”
“Prove it,” Grant snarled, baring his teeth at her like a feral animal. “Tell me something you learnt from him.”
Understanding shot through Aly like a bolt. He wasn’t afraid she’d clipe—or at least, not just afraid she’d clipe. He was afraid she’d learn the truth.
If she told him what she and Calum knew, he would cover it up and they’d never stand a chance at seeing him jailed—and she’d never be free of him. If she said nothing, then Grant would know she was hiding something.
She jerked her chin out of Grant’s grasp. “All I’ve learnt is that the police are utterly incompetent, so I hope you’ve got another plan for finding out who dumped a body in your territory.” She said it with as much sincerity as she could muster, hoping it would be enough.
Grant’s eyes searched hers for several heartbeats, each one of them pounding against her eardrums. “That’s all?”
Aly inclined her head, her mouth dry. “That’s all.” Her knee throbbed where the glass cut in, but she didn’t dare move.
Grant unfurled to his feet, offering his hand to her. Aly took it. His grip was warm and firm in hers as he helped her to sit on the sideboard, his fingers tracking through the streaks of blood on her leg. “This looks nasty,” he said, bowing his head so that his russet curls covered his face.
Aly said nothing. Her heartbeat calmed, returning to its usual rhythm as Grant’s fingers traced the skin around her knee. His thumb skimmed over the edge of a shard of glass—and pressed down.
Aly’s leg jerked as agony shot through her, her vision turning white.
A scream clawed its way up her throat, her jaw clenching as she fought it back.
She kicked at Grant with her free leg, catching him beneath the chin and sending him flying back with a muffled shout.
Scrambling down from the sideboard, she limped towards the door, her left leg searing with agony every time she put her weight on it.
The parlour door was only two steps away, yet it felt like it was the other side of the city.
An invisible rope lashed her ankles, sending her crashing to the ground.
A sob tore through her clenched teeth as her injured knee smashed into the hardwood.
With a grunt, she pushed herself up, only to stumble on Grant’s spell and tumble down again, tasting blood as her teeth snapped together against her tongue.
She whirled round to see Grant rising to his feet, the movement languid and leisurely. He knew he had her.
She slid a hand behind her back, reaching for the hilt of a knife. Grant tutted. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Aly stilled, her mouth going dry as bone. “Do what?” she rasped.
He stalked closer to her, unfastening his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves. He tutted again, shaking his head. “Reach for one of your knives. You know I’m faster and stronger than you, for one thing, and I can immobilise you.”
Aly’s harried breathing echoed in her ears. “Then why don’t you?”
The smile on Grant’s face was the stuff of nightmares, its cruelty contorting his face into an inhuman grimace. “Because it’s far more fun to watch you squirm.”
Aly scrabbled back. Her shoulders thumped into the wall, stopping her short as Grant loomed over her. “Do you know why I did that?” He tilted his head towards her leg.
Aly spat out a mouthful of blood, aiming it at the white linen of Grant’s shirt. It fell short. Grant stared at it, the look of fury on his face turning Aly’s veins to ice. Her heart pounded in her throat.
“Because you betrayed me.” He held up a hand as Aly tried to protest. “You might not be cliping to the coppers about me, but you betrayed me all the same by going behind my back. You should have told me about the inspector.” He crouched next to Aly. “Why did you lie to me?”
Aly licked the blood from her lips, swallowing its copper tang.
“I was . . . ashamed. When I persuaded him to let me off, I thought that would be the end of it, but he wanted a more long-term arrangement. I was telling the truth when I said I’d hoped to learn what the police knew about the dead burgess down behind the Copper Kettle, but I didn’t say anything to you because I was ashamed I’d got into that position in the first place. ”
Grant tucked a ringlet behind Aly’s ear. “And you’ve learnt nothing about the investigation in that time?”
Answers bubbled up in Aly like water over a flame, ready to spill out of her lips at the slightest prompting.
That Grant was demi-fae, his fae heritage clearer than ever to her in the cruel twist of his lips, in the malicious gleam in his eyes.
That Grant had contracted the Cailleach to kill Burgess Gibson, for reasons Aly still did not know.
She pressed her lips together, shaking her head instead. “Like I said, they’re a bunch of incompetent fools and they don’t know anything. It’s a pity, really,” she said, injecting as much levity as she could into her tone. “The copper could be quite fun.”
Not even a hint of a smile came to Grant’s lips. He was looking at her with a wistful look in his eyes. “I’m going to miss you, Aly.”
Aly’s heart sped up. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve had some fun, you and I, haven’t we?
” His expression turned sombre, a russet brown wave falling over his face.
“But you’ve kept secrets from me. I don’t know if you’re telling the truth now or not, but it doesn’t matter.
Either you’re still keeping secrets, and I can’t trust you, or you betrayed my trust and haven’t even got anything to show for it.
” He cupped his fingertips over Aly’s cheek.
“I suppose it doesn’t really matter. Either way, I can’t have you around anymore. ”
And with that pronouncement, he closed his fingers around Aly’s throat.