“Do you have any?”
“What?”
“Weapons made of palladium,” I said impatiently. “The more we can spread around all of us, the better.”
He laughed sharply. “Why would I have any weapons made of palladium? It’s a soft metal. Unless you’re apparently defending yourself against a necromancer, it would really be no good in any fight. And it’s a very expensive metal anyway.”
I took a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm. “Can you make some then?”
“Little girl, I’m a master artiste of weaponry. I can make anything.”
“Great. Start with around fifty. Perhaps a mix of things. Some swords, daggers, and try some bullets and arrows as well. I imagine the guns and bows themselves wouldn’t need to be made from palladium, just the actual pointy dangerous parts that stick in you.”
Balud held up a single finger. “And where will I get all that palladium from? Shall I just nip down to my local palladium hardware store? Hmmm?”
I stared at him. “You just said it was used for jewellery and dentists and cars. It must be freely available. Order some online.”
“Who’ll pay for it?”
I gaped, nonplussed. “This is to save the fucking world! Who cares who pays for it?”
Balud shrugged. “Someone’s got to. This stuff doesn’t come cheap.”
“Fine,” I said, pissed off. “I’ll get you some money. Raid my piggybank or whatever.”
“Says the girl who couldn’t afford to buy two silver daggers just last month.”
“I’ll get you the money, alright?”
Damn it. I’d just have to talk to the council and get them to free up some funds from somewhere. How hard could it be? I knew the mages were pretty broke, but the shifters had plenty of spare cash hanging around, and I reckoned that the Fae had to be minted. It’d be easy. And if I spoke to the council then I could avoid having to deal directly with the Summer Queen or the Arch-Mage. Or Corrigan. He’d said he didn’t want to ever see me again, and I was going to respect those wishes. For now. Once Endor was out of the way, however…I pressed my lips together.
“I’ll sort it out and get back to you. Is there anything else?”
He craned his neck up at me. “I think your bruise is still growing.”
I scowled. “Whatever. I’m going off to talk to Wold.”
“Tell her to shut down her shop or else you’ll turn into a dragon and breathe fire all over her!”
“That’s meant to be a secret,” I said petulantly.
“Not a very well kept one.”
I growled and turned on my heel, showing myself out of the shop.
Chapter Three
It took me an hour or two to travel across the city via the Underground to where Wold’s shop was located. I garnered more than a few odd looks, no doubt as a direct result of the large bruise that was beginning to throb across my cheek. My eye was continuing to swell up to the point where my vision was becoming limited. I’d have to hope that the loss of my periphery focus wouldn’t allow anyone – or anything – untoward get the jump on me. At one point, a kindly looking woman, with laughter lines at the edges of her eyes which masked a deep pain from within, handed me a card for a women’s shelter.
“It’s never too late to ask for help,” she said softly.
I just smiled slightly and said thank you. Getting into an explanation with a complete stranger about how I really had walked into a door seemed far too ridiculous, even for me. I hoped the bruising would subside enough before I had to venture back to Alcazon to meet the council again, or indeed any other Otherworlders. The last thing I needed was for my badass reputation to become even more inflated. I was aware the result would probably just be a bunch of irritating challengers trying to take me on to prove their own prowess. That was indeed a hassle I could do without.
I did need to contact the council about the money to procure enough palladium to create an arsenal of devastating weaponry, however. A carefully worded email would probably do the trick. That way I wouldn’t have to bother talking to any of them. I didn’t think my head could cope with the onslaught of their complaints again today. Deciding that I’d sort out that little problem once I finally got home again, I focused on the matter in hand: getting the Batibat onside to help me with locating Endor. The success Alex had had with her the previous week seemed to suggest that he would be a good person to include so, as soon as I’d hopped off the train, I cast around for a phone. I really needed to get myself a bloody mobile.
Eventually finding a familiarly red phone box just outside the station gates, I dug inside my pocket for some change and inserted it into the machine. The customary beat of the Beach Boys thrummed from across the line, then the phone clicked into voicemail.
“Hey dude. I’m not available to take your call right now, but if you leave a message I’ll get back to you before the surf is up.”
Rolling my eyes, I left a quick message. “Alex, it’s Mack. I need you to meet me at the Batibat’s shop as soon as you can. Definitely sooner rather than later. I need to talk to her again about Endor and your expertise would be appreciated.”
I hung up. It was less his expertise than the fact he was an apparently virile young man that had probably made the Batibat spill her secrets to him. It didn’t really matter though. Anything extra I could glean from her about how to track down Endor would be good. And, let’s face it, the faster I found the freaky necromancing serial killer, the faster I could get my life back on track. Or rather get Corrigan to forgive me so we could pick up from where we left off.
I set off in the direction of the shop. Fortunately, the flyer that Balud had waved so unceremoniously in front of my face had included an address, and the borough of London had thought to helpfully provide maps next to the station entrances to help lost souls like me find our way around. Wold’s little empire was, naturally, down a quiet side street off the main tree-lined thoroughfare. The kind of quiet side street where creepy Otherworld nasties could hang around without fear of being bothered by pesky humans. As soon as I turned down into it, the distinct smell of rotting meat reached my nostrils and the shadows abruptly deepened. Jeez. It even appeared as if the sky had dramatically darkened, although I was sure that was just my own fanciful imagination.
“Bad guys ‘r’ us,” I muttered to myself, then halted suddenly in my steps as I caught sight of a figure leaning up against a wall further along. Interesting. Was this a waiting customer or a guard? Carefully, I reached behind me and pulled out my daggers from my back sheath, before concealing them in the folds of my sleeves. It didn’t hurt to be prepared.
I’d barely gone three more steps when the figure pushed off from the wall. The shadows still concealed their identity, but it was definitely someone male and large.
“Don’t come any closer,” a gruff voice called out.
The corners of my mouth lifted up. Excellent. Not a customer then, but someone who I could pump for information once I’d beaten the shit out of them. I’d been needing to release some tension all day long. It might even help get rid of my headache. Things were starting to look up.
I continued forward.
“You heard me,” growled the voice again. “Turn around and go back the way you came.”
Ooooh, scary. I tightened my grip on the daggers and shifted my weight as I carried on, my eyes gradually starting to adjust to the dim light. I wondered whether to see who it was first or just to let my silver fly and ask questions later. Prickles of heat danced merrily up and down my veins. It occurred to me that there was probably something wrong with me for being excited to see a bit of action. I shrugged inwardly. No-one’s perfect.
Unfortunately, at that moment, the figure took a step forward into a patch of dull sunlight and I registered who it was. It was just a fucking shifter. Corrigan had probably sent him here to keep an eye on the shop. My good eye squinted at him. He looked like a wolf, all lean and muscly, but with a shaggy mane of hair on top of his head. I relaxed, although I was cursing slightly inside.
“It’s alright,” I shouted out, starting to re-sheathe my weapons. “It’s me. Er, Mack. Mack Smith. I’m here on official business.”
“Ma’am, I’m going to ask you again. Turn around and go back. This area is off limits.”
My eyes narrowed. What the fuck? I was the head of the sodding council investigating the Batibat’s boss. No, this area most definitely was not off limits. And I was certainly not a ‘ma’am’.
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me the first time,” I commented, aware that there was an edge of hot fury to my tone, “I’m Mack Smith. I have every right to be here. If you don’t believe me then call your fucking boss and check.”
“I know who you are, Ms. Smith, and I have strict instructions not to let you come any closer.”
I stopped in mid-step, more out of shock than anything else. Seriously? I knew that Corrigan was beyond pissed off with me, but he couldn’t stop me from doing my job. Who the hell did he think he was? I’d thought many things of the Lord Alpha in the past, but never that he was petty. And did he really believe that one pathetic wolf was going to make me turn around with my invisible dragon tail tucked between my legs? It looked like I was going to end up having a little fun after all.
I pulled out my daggers again, and began to move forward. “You’re going to want to get out of my way.”
“Ma’am…”
“Don’t call me that.”
I let one dagger fly, striking him in his shin. The werewolf screamed in agony and yanked at it, scrabbling at the hilt to pull it away from where it had embedded itself in his skin. To be fair, I hadn’t put much force behind the throw, and it was really only the very tip of the weapon that he was howling about. I didn’t actually want to hurt him badly; after all, he was only following orders – and stupid orders at that – and I knew silver was excruciatingly painful for shifters, even just to touch. But I also had a point to make to His High and Mightiness. Don’t get in my fucking way.
