FORTY-FIVE #2
Bile scorched the back of Aly’s throat. She’d been his deputy, and had ignored the warning from the Nuckelavee, convinced he was just casting aspersions against a rival.
She should have seen it. The Redcap’s deputy had tried to tell her, and Grant had stopped him.
For months, she’d been utterly oblivious that the person striking such fear in the underworld was her own boss.
The sergeant sighed, dragging her back to the present. “Look, we’ve been told to raid this one. I’m sure there are plenty more if you’re just looking for a wee hit of power.”
The constable stared at her. Was she lying, and there were more police at the other salching markets, or was he simply green enough he didn’t believe a sergeant would tell someone they couldn’t commit a crime there, but could go off somewhere out of sight and do it there?
Aly tossed her head. “Well, perhaps I like it here.” There were sounds of a scuffle outside, and she hoped, without much confidence, it was no more than a few food vendors disagreeing over who got to hawk their wares from the end of the close, and not more police arresting the Caoineag’s workers.
The constable peered into the vestibule, his lip curling. The bare walls and tile floor weren’t much to look at, but the Caoineag’s market was indeed the best in the city.
The sergeant squinted at the open end of the close, then turned back to the constable. “Look, we haven’t got time for this. Get her out of the way.”
The man reached for Aly, grabbing her arm and yanking her out the door.
Her shoulder, newly healed, screamed in its socket and she bit back a cry of pain, wrenching her arm out of the constable’s grasp.
Her heart sank at the sight of the manacled salchs who sat in the middle of the street.
She winced, knowing as she did now that the burn of the manacles was more than just the discomfort of cold metal on skin.
A crowd had formed at the open end of the close, boxing them in, with a row of constables facing the throng.
A copper with long auburn hair tried to carve a path through the crowd, but with little success; every time he began to penetrate the mass of protesters, the crowd surged forwards, pressing him back.
The crowd were chanting something, though Aly couldn’t make out the words.
The blond constable grabbed for Aly again, hauling her to the edge of the close.
The stone wall pressed into her back, chilling her through the thick tweed of her coat.
He jerked his head at the sergeant. “She would have arrested you for salching, and who knows what we’d have found if we’d looked at your arms? ”
Aly’s skin went cold, her scars prickling with fear. The shouts of the crowd were drowned out by the blood rushing in her ears. She tipped her chin up, her mouth dry. “I assure you, there’d be nothing to see.”
“Well, perhaps I’ll have a wee look, just to be sure,” the constable said, reaching for Aly’s wrist. “Unless you give me something to look the other way.”
He wasn’t touching her, but his bulk loomed over her, close enough she was as good as pinned between him and the wall. She peeked to the side. There were eight police, their backs to Aly and the constable, but if she tried to run they were certain to catch her.
“What are you after?” It was as good as an admission that she had incriminating scars.
The constable knew it too, a smirk curving on his face. “A quid.”
“A qui—?” Aly spluttered. “I haven’t got a pound on me.” It was easily a week’s pay for the constable.
“A shilling, then. Surely you’d have at least that to pay for someone else’s magic.”
Aly’s heart leapt to her throat. She didn’t have a shilling, either. She dug a hand into her pocket, turning up a bodle and a penny. “I’ve got thruppence.”
“Thruppence?” The constable’s lip curled. “You’re having a laugh.” He reached for Aly’s arm, his grip tight enough to bruise.
Aly’s heart fluttered in her chest. She glanced at the row of police, looking for Calum.
He wasn’t there. Relief and desolation warred within her.
She didn’t know what she’d do if she learnt that he was participating in the arrest of salchs to be transported to Faerie, but equally he was the only person who could protect her from the constable.
There was nothing she could do, as the constable reached for her sleeve, unless—
Calum had said she had enough fae in her to do a glamour. But he’d also said fae magic was different from mortal magic, and she hadn’t the first idea how to go about it.
She released a slow breath, trying to calm her fluttering heart.
Magic required focus—well, mortal magic did—and she couldn’t manage that in a panic.
She summoned to mind an image of her arms with smooth, unbroken skin, the way they’d been before she first salched, the wee reddish freckles on the tops of her arms, the skin so pale it blinded in sunlight on the insides, with no hint of grey.
She pictured the scars overlaid on top, as close to their true configuration as she could, and thought of them sinking beneath the smooth surface like pebbles tossed on water.
The constable jerked her sleeve up, revealing the puckered grey scars over her arm.
That was to be expected, she reminded her thudding heart.
The glamour worked on other people’s minds, not her own.
She chanced a look at the constable’s face, her heart cratering as she took in the sneer of disgust twisting his mouth.
He yanked her sleeve down. “I’ve found another one,” he called to the group of police further down the close.
Aly’s blood pounded in her ears as the constable drew out a set of manacles, her eyes darting around the close as she sought a means of escape. Buildings hemmed them in on three sides. The crowd was on the fourth. Past a wall of eight police officers.
She made a split-second decision, bringing her knee up to meet the constable’s groin and sprinting off down the close, her boots skidding on cobblestones limned with frost. There was a shout, and the police turned to her.
She ducked under an outstretched arm, her heart leaping to her throat as the copper’s hand slid through the air above her head.
The crowd began to part ahead of her, opening a path through their ranks if she could only get to it.
A weight slammed into her back, making her muscles tense—and stop. She tried to keep running, but her feet were glued to the ground, her entire body frozen in position. Only her ribcage moved, in time with her ragged breathing.
Footsteps sounded behind her, frost crunching beneath leather soles, but she couldn’t turn her head to look.
Panic rose in the back of her throat, turning her breaths to sobs.
Grant had done this to her when he’d punished her for pawning the earrings.
She’d been unable to move, powerless to stop him as he’d broken her fingers in turn.
Sweat soaked her linen shift, her mind galloping through the possibilities of what the police could do to her now they had her equally vulnerable.
The footsteps grew closer, accompanied by the clink of manacles.
Aly’s legs burned with exertion, but her boots remained fixed on the cobblestones, her muscles straining but unable to move under the pressure of the copper’s magic.
Then a hand landed on her arm, and she tumbled free of the spell.
She kicked and flailed, but there were three of them and one of her, and soon the cold iron of the manacles bit into her wrists.
The police frog-marched her to where the other salchs sat, shoving her to the ground.
A murmur rose as someone pushed through the crowd, tumbling out into the close. A jolt of recognition shot through Aly as Cameron straightened, casting his gaze over Aly and the other salchs manacled in the close.
The blond constable stepped towards Cameron, his hands up with his palms out in a placating gesture. “Take it easy. You can’t come this way.”
Cameron took another step forwards. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”
The constable placed a hand on Cameron’s shoulder, turning him back to the crowd. “Away you go. Nothing to see here.”
Cameron threw the constable’s arm off and pressed forwards, trying to push past the constable. The PC grabbed him, shoving him back. A sickening crack echoed through the close as Cameron fell, his head colliding with the corner of a stair.
For a moment there was silence. All Aly could hear was her own panicked breath. Then those nearest Cameron started screaming.