The two corporals stumbled backward and cast their personal shields. The looks of terror on their faces were almost comical. I had heard that some pyromancers could combust their shields like that, but Josh was the only one I’d ever seen do it.
I glanced down at where the sergeant lay on the street. His shirt was on fire, and his face was a blackened, bloody ruin.
“Josh! That’s enough! Let’s go.”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “Okay.” Turning back to the corporals, he said, “If I ever run across you again, I won’t go easy on you like I did with your friend. Understand?” He quenched his flaming shield and held out his arm to me. I sheathed my sword, took his arm, and we walked off.
“I hate rapists,” he growled. “Cowards.”
I wondered if his sister had ever been raped. If so, she had never mentioned it to me. But I silently applauded his attitude.
We found Ian at a quiet pub called the Sojourner listening to a pretty redheaded woman playing guitar and singing. When we arrived, he stood up from his seat at the bar and led us to an unoccupied booth.
We sat down, and Ian immediately asked, “What’s wrong?”
Josh, his face still looking like that of a man plotting murder, shook his head.
“Josh just lit a would-be rapist on fire,” I said. “This town really isn’t safe for women walking alone at night.”
“Were you seen?” Ian asked.
“Maybe. It’s still early, but the light was bad, and there weren’t very many people out on the street. It’s no big deal. I know their faces and ranks, and I’ll have my new paramour take care of them.”
“Them?”
“Yeah. A mini rape gang. Three non-coms who drink too much and don’t have enough to do. I think a labor detail in an unattractive part of the world would be a good place for them.”
I saw a twitch as Josh tried not to smile in spite of himself.
“Tell me about this new paramour,” Ian said.
I told them about Under-Marshal Muller and my plan for stealing the Heart. I also told them about the blood-magic ritual I had witnessed. I didn’t tell them about Muirgen or the charms she’d given me, but I did mention that Oriel had procured a Fae invisibility charm for me.
“So, we’re going to have another ten days of the ley lines tasting like a sewer?” Ian asked when I finished.
I nodded, “Afraid so,” and he scowled.
“When is your replacement supposed to be here?” Josh asked.
“I think by the end of the week. I’ll need to go back out to Stonehenge and retrieve the rest of my gear, but I have almost everything here already.”
“And you’re going to be staying in the under-marshal’s flat?” Ian asked.
“Yeah. The way I understand it, he’ll be visiting, but not staying there most nights. Like tonight and tomorrow night, he has obligations. Don’t know past then. I think I’m supposed to play it by ear and be available whenever he is.”
“Do you have to do that?” Josh asked. The expression of concern on his face surprised me.
“I’m okay. I’m not going to go into details, but I’m not screwing him.” I reached over, laid my hand on his, and winked at him. “Trade secrets, and the Goddess would revoke my femme fatale card if I told you. Men are easy, Josh.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I guess we are.”
Ian laughed also. I was sure he had some idea of the training I’d had, and the Scorpion’s reputation far exceeded the reality. Illuminati novices were never taught that chastity was a virtue, and I had never known a trainee to keep his or her virginity much past puberty. The masters—male and female—ensured that.
“I think sleeping their way to the top is standard operating procedure for ambitious women in the Knights,” Ian said.
“I wondered about that. The top officers don’t seem to have a problem attracting company.”
“No, they don’t. Your boss, Standard-Bearer Dal Corso, is sleeping with Seneschal Dalviccio.”
“Really?”
“Yea. I heard the rumor, so I checked it out. She goes into his place a couple of evenings a week and doesn’t come out until the next morning.” He chuckled. “Not sure it’s doing her any good. One of my sources says she’s been banging him for the past two years, and she’s still a standard-bearer. He brought her to Salisbury with him and stuck her out at Stonehenge away from all the action.”
I bit my lip while I thought about that. “They need a blood witch in charge out there. But screwing up the Heart isn’t the only spell in that grimoire. I wonder if he has any idea whether he’s coming or going.”
I gave them the address of the flat, and Ian gave me a flip phone. I had been afraid to take one to my posting in Stonehenge as they were prohibited.
When we parted, I asked Ian, “Where do the officers drink and pick up girls?”
He chuckled. “There’s an upscale cocktail bar called the Plantagenet Inn. Very dark and cozy, but if you’re going to go hunting, I suggest you change clothes.”
That was the second time I’d been told I was overdressed. I thanked him and made my way back to the flat.
It was still early by bar-crawl standards, so I took out the LBD, spruced up my makeup a bit, and tucked a Hunter’s dagger in my purse. Then I headed out to see what kind of trouble I could get into, and hopefully, glean some useful information.
I hit the Plantagenet Inn first. Ian had called it. It was even darker inside than it was out on the street. Once my eyes adjusted, I saw that the entire place was small tables and booths, none seating more than four people. Beyond the front room, I saw doorways leading to two more rooms. The bar was along the left side, and short, with only eight barstools, two of them occupied. One woman and one man, both drinking alone.
I pulled myself up on a stool, one away from the woman. She was definitely out hunting, her dress too tight, too short, and showing a lot of cleavage. Up close, I figured she was in her late thirties, and not a magic user. She glanced over at me, then went back to staring at the mirror behind the bar, a good way to watch the room.
The bartender came over. “What are you having, sweetie?” she asked.
“A perfect Manhattan.”
“Coming right up,” she said with a smile.
She mixed my drink and set it down. I laid a twenty-pound note on the bar, and when she brought me my change, I left two pounds sitting there. Her smile brightened a little.
“New in town?”
“Yes. A friend said this place might be to my taste.” I took a sip of my drink and smiled. “I think he was right.” Twisting in my seat, I surveyed the room. “More rooms back there?”
“Yes, each of those doorways leads to another room, and the room on the left has another room behind it.”
“Seems quiet.”
“More people in the back, but generally we run a quiet establishment. Our clientele prefers it that way.”
“Are there any bars in the back?”
“One, in the middle room to the left. Looking for anything in particular?”
I shrugged. “Just feeling a little lonely. I just moved down here from Liverpool, and I don’t know anyone.”
“Knight?” she asked, and I nodded. “Try the bar in the back.”
“Thanks,” I said, standing up and laying a five-pound note on top of the coin. I picked up my drink and my purse and headed toward the back room.
As she suggested, that room was larger and had more people. It also had more unescorted men. The bar was the same size, and I found an empty seat.
I said hello to the bartender, and told him, “If you can make a perfect Manhattan as well as your friend at the front bar, I’ll take another when I finish this one.” I laid another twenty-pound note on the bar.
He chuckled. “Will do.”
I used the mirror behind the bar to scan the room, then swiveled my chair around to take a more blatant look. I had attracted the notice of a few men, most notably a table of four wearing Knights’ uniforms. Two were standard-bearers, and two were chevaliers. I let my gaze linger, meeting the eyes of one of the standard-bearers and letting a bit of a smile touch my lips before taking a sip of my drink. I held his eyes over the rim of my glass, then turned back to the bar.
Generally, British pubs don’t provide table service. I waited.
Soon, the younger standard-bearer appeared next to me. The bartender came over, and the Knight said, “Another round,” then casually, “and another of whatever the lady is drinking.” He had a French accent, Parisian was my guess, or somewhere near there.
“Merci,” I said. “Quel plaisir de rencontrer un gentleman en Angleterre.” What a pleasure to meet a gentleman in England.
He lit up like a hundred-watt bulb and switched to French. “Et quel plaisir de rencontrer une si charmante dame.” And what a pleasure to meet such a charming lady.
We chatted briefly until the bartender brought his drinks and set mine down next to my now-empty glass. The Knight took three of the drinks back to his table and came back to sit next to me.
“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked, continuing our conversation in French.
I gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Perhaps. I’m new in Salisbury, and a friend told me I might find like-minded people here. So many of the bars are rather crude, don’t you think? Uncomfortable for a woman alone.”
“I quite agree.” He cocked his head. “New here? Do you come here to work?”
I grinned. “I’m newly stationed here.” I dipped my head. “Sergeant Erin O’Grady, at your service.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And a welcome addition to our force. Where are you assigned?”
“I was out at Stonehenge, but,” I dropped my voice and leaned closer, “I have heard a rumor that I may be promoted and assigned to the main security office here in Salisbury.”
“Really?”
“It’s only rumor, of course, and you never know about such things. I was stationed in America, in Washington, and it was rumored my unit was going to San Francisco. The next thing I knew, I was in Liverpool.”