Chapter 9
Cillian
FOUR YEARS AGO
‘The girl looks like she’d hide at the first sign of trouble,’ Vittoria says as Niamh closes the door behind herself and my sister. ‘If that’s the future of our legal system in this city, I doubt she’ll trouble us much.’
‘A future conveyancer for sure,’ her brother, Chris, says, laughing as he finishes whatever foul concoction is in his glass.
I disagree with Vittoria about Niamh. It’s the innocent, the pure at heart, that don’t give up.
That find a cause they believe in and don’t stop fighting until they bring light to the darkness around them.
And while no one person can possibly bring enough light to illuminate the dark depths of my family, someone like Niamh might actually try.
Although, it’s far more likely that our darkness would corrupt her.
I sit back down on the dark leather couch, and Vittoria does the same, leaning against me and sliding her hand under my shirt again. I let her trace my nipple with her taloned fingers and shiver in pleasure, hiding my real thoughts, which are on the girl I’ve just met.
Niamh.
As soon as I saw her standing in front of me, something …
a connection … slid into place. My mouth curves into a smile and a rush of heat floods to my cock as I think about exactly what I’d like to slide into place, and where.
There’s something about her naivety and inexperience that attracts me – and I can tell she’s not had the chance to experience a real man yet.
My desire grows as I imagine her naked in my bed, me keeping her there for as long as it takes to rid her of every last shred of innocence.
I let out a breath. Surely she can’t be as pure as she seemed?
I’ve never thought I had a type before – I enjoy women, especially women who will submit to my desires – but Niamh’s long dark hair, her delicately pale skin, the faint blush on her cheeks, reminds me of a barely-bloomed rose and has my senses stirring in a way I’ve not felt in years.
She’s … perfect, even if she is nothing like other women I’ve experienced.
My finely tuned senses heard the beat of her heart, felt how it speeded up in fear as I fixed my stare on her.
What I wouldn’t give to follow her right now, back her into a quiet corner in my house and force her to acknowledge her weakness in the face of my power.
Then I would claim her. I’m sure with a little patience and coaxing, she’d submit beautifully to me, allowing me to show her what her body is capable of.
I could sense her arousal, she was intrigued by me, too, although it’s clear she doesn’t yet understand.
I shake my head, frowning. Did my sister bring her here on purpose to torture me tonight?
Perhaps. But one thing I am absolutely sure of, is that one taste of Niamh Whyte would never be enough and my future lies elsewhere.
She cannot ever be for me. Besides, I can’t let Vittoria think my attention has been drawn elsewhere – that would end badly for everyone.
So I focus on the fact that I am the Huntsman and one day I will rule the Kinfolk.
That has always been my ambition and I cannot allow it to be derailed by anyone. Especially a human.
But I can afford to be curious, make sure she’s suitable as a companion for my sister.
I cross the room to speak to Aiden, my right-hand man.
He’s worked for me since my father died over five years ago, passing the role of Huntsman onto me.
He’s loyal, which is the main consideration.
And while he is both my chauffeur and my bodyguard, he’s officially on my books as a ‘researcher’, since ‘hacker’ raises too many red flags with the taxman.
It shouldn’t be too hard for Aiden to find everything we need to know about Niamh – she doesn’t give the impression of being aware enough to cover her tracks.
It’s a pity that some of the old magics are now lost to us.
Scrying – a magic that allows you to use one polished surface to look through into any other, read the contents of any screen like a sort of magical CCTV – would have accomplished this much more quickly and without the need for using human systems. But it was considered too dangerous, and the Hunters were tasked with killing anyone caught manifesting the ability.
‘Anything?’ I ask him, knowing he’ll already have started looking when she gave her name.
‘Father is Glasgow born and bred. Mother’s second generation from Dublin.
Married nineteen years. He’s a plumber. She works part-time as a receptionist in the local GP surgery.
Nothing interesting. They live in a post-war cottage on the south side, near the subway.
Niamh is their only child. Went to the local Catholic school.
Good grades. School Captain. There is nothing noteworthy about her, not for your purposes.
Nor her family. No red flags.’ Aiden frowns as he looks up at me. ‘Which may itself raise questions.’
‘You think so?’
He glances towards the door and shakes his head. ‘Nah.’
I nod in acknowledgement, the desire to investigate further slipping away.
I wonder what game my sister thinks she’s playing this time.
Niamh is not the sort of person, I’d have expected her to befriend.
Rose is confident, loud, bordering on obnoxious at times.
While Niamh looked on the verge of running screaming from the house.
I cannot imagine what they have in common – other than their choice of vocation.
Vittoria’s brother Chris has been standing nearby, eavesdropping.
‘She very wide-eyed and innocent, isn’t she. Probably thinks she’s going to right every wrong in the city. Pretty, though.’ Chris moves to the drinks cabinet. ‘Drink, anyone?’
To my surprise, I clench my fists. Him talking of her as some idealistic nobody has me riled up, and I’m not exactly sure why.
‘I’ll take another glass of wine,’ Vittoria says.
‘Two fingers,’ I say, nodding to the whisky.
Chris gives me four, before pouring his sister another glass of red.
The room is filled with Kinfolk from the other ruling families and those who work for them – notably, the MacGowan kids and some of the Kelsos – and a few request drinks, much to Chris’s irritation.
Once he’s finished serving, he finally unscrews a bottle of Stox and takes a long swig of the craft beer.
Vittoria’s face contorts with disgust. ‘Oh, that’s rank, Chris.’
He shrugs and finishes the bottle in a second gulp. ‘Happy to support Kinfolk enterprises,’ he says, before pouring himself two fingers of my top-shelf whisky and downing that just as quickly. ‘Even if I still don’t understand why the Hunters get to control St Marnox.’
‘Because if someone has bested us to get there, we’re stuck with looking after them. Consider it motivation for every hunt to end as it should,’ I point out.
The conversation moves on, but I notice Vittoria glance at Chris more than once. He downs several more bottles of Stox at speed and I can see the concern in her eyes.
‘It’s just as well you’re Kin,’ I point out to Chris. ‘A human would be seeing monsters in every shadow by this time.’
‘Why bother looking for monsters in the shadows,’ Chris says. ‘I can see you all right in front of me sitting in chairs.’
‘Enough!’ Vittoria says, grabbing the bottle of Stox from his hand and taking it over to the drinks tray. She screws the lid on and pours him a glass of water, handing it to him. ‘It allows us to control humans, Chris. We’re not supposed to get addicted to it ourselves.’
Stox is sold as a craft beer, a branded version of a substance that we’ve been using for thousands of years to, under certain circumstances, control any human who ingests it.
A perfect system, since it doesn’t show up in human lab work.
It’s not exactly a drug. It’s been called different things over the centuries. Fairy food. Magic.
Stox is only one way in which we offer this substance to humans and it’s proved surprisingly successful.
A putrid, herbal concoction, it has been brewed by monks, ironically enough, for the past seven or eight hundred years – maybe even longer – at St Marnox, a former monastery on the edge of the Highlands, which exists simultaneously in both the human world and the Underworld.
St Marnox hasn’t had anything to do with any established church for more than a millennium although somehow no one ever thinks to check.
It’s an extremely picturesque, thin place, leading to an area of the Underworld which doubles as a sanctuary for any accused Kinfolk fortunate enough to escape me hunting them down.
Anyone can visit it in the human world, although it’s something we discourage.
St Marnox is not under the rule of the King, but The Unseelie Court, and it’s considered a punishment for my family that we are bound to ensure the wellbeing of any who evade us during the hunt and reach its sanctuary.
Most residents, however, call it a prison as there’s no escape, except death or to face trial at The Unseelie Court.
Still, despite Stox’s foul taste, and its reputation – or perhaps because of that – it’s the most popular drink in the city.
I’ve lost count of the number of licences my family has been granted thanks to the fact that Stox makes humans extremely persuadable.
On the flip side, we do get to keep the income from the brewery which is significant and the main reason why my family can afford the lifestyle and status that we’ve come to enjoy.
‘Don’t be such a fucking snob, Vittoria. The taste reminds me of home.’
‘If you’re so homesick, Chris, maybe you should consider spending some time in the Underworld.’
‘But it’s so much more entertaining here, dear sister. Especially watching you trying to control Dad and get him to make you his heir instead of me.’