“You’re sort of famous, kid. You know: son of Marcus; half White and half Black . . . and, to be frank, you’ve got freaky eyes.”
I swear at him about the son-of-Marcus thing and swear at him about being a Half Code and then swear at him about my eyes.
“Hey, don’t take it bad! You asked, I answered. But shit, mate, your eyes look real nasty when you do that.”
Do what? All I did was look at him. I swear at him again.
“Can’t believe no one’s told you that before.”
I remember Annalise saying she liked my eyes, found them fascinating, but I don’t think I’m looking at Nesbitt the same way I looked at her.
In the firelight I can see that his eyes are unusual too, an aquamarine blue and green that swirls around as if in a current. Ellen has eyes like his. She’s a Half Blood—half fain and half witch—and I guess Nesbitt is as well.
I ask him, “You’re half something too. Half Blood?”
“Proud to be half Black.”
“Not proud to be half fain?”
He shrugs. “I am what I am.”
“And proud to work for Victoria van Dal?”
“Well, I call Van ‘my boss’ as a bit of a private joke. We’re more like partners.”
“Yeah? What’s she like?”
“She’s special: talented and beautiful. Beautiful hair, beautiful eyes, beautiful skin. She’s generally beautiful all over. Not that I’ve seen her all over, if you know what I mean, kid. Strictly business, our relationship. And she keeps herself well covered up. It’s like she’s from a different time. You know, when people dressed up and took pride in their appearance.”
I look down at myself and hold my arms out.
“No, I don’t suppose you do know what I mean,” says Nesbitt.
“I know she’s a thief.”
“A thief?”
“She sent you to steal Gabriel’s letters and she has my knife.”
“Well, as I said, stealing off a dead body isn’t technically stealing.”
“What is it?”
Nesbitt looks like he gives this serious thought, then shrugs and says, “Tidying up the countryside in your case, kid.” He grins. “Like picking up litter.”
“But taking the letters is stealing; they don’t belong to you.”
“Well, for a start, I haven’t taken them cos they ain’t here. Though I’m guessin’ you have ’em.”
I blank him.
He continues. “And anyway it wouldn’t be stealing cos Gabriel told Van where they were. Said she could have them.”
“Uh-huh. And why would Gabriel do that?”
“He wants to thank Van for her help.” Nesbitt looks all innocent at me, begging me to ask what Van did. And I have to comply.
“What help?”
“Gabriel was in a bad way when we found him. He’d been shot. Hunter bullets, two of them. You know how bad they can be. They weren’t serious wounds, and the bullets had passed through, but even so the magic did its stuff. He was out of it for a week. Van nursed him. She’s good with potions, very good, the best. She saved him. Much like I saved you and—”
“You left me to die slowly from my wound.”
“I hid your trail.”
I shake my head at him. “So you wouldn’t be caught.”
“Kid! Mate! How can you say that?”
I roll my eyes. “Where did you find Gabriel?”
“He was staggering down a backstreet in Geneva. Coppers everywhere. Hunters everywhere else. What a mess! Van drove through it all like a demon, scooped Gabriel up, and off we scarpered into the night.”
“And Gabriel is OK now?”
“Fit as a fiddle.”
“So why didn’t he come for the letters himself?”
“Ah. Well, there’s a bit of a trust issue, isn’t there? We don’t want him running off without handing over the goods.”
“I’m sure Gabriel could be trusted to show his gratitude if, as you say, Van saved his life.”
Nesbitt smiles at me again and shrugs. “Yeah, true, kid. Peace and lurve and all that. But it’s in the nature of Black Witches to not always act as they should. Particularly the good-looking French ones, I’ve found.”
“So, where’s Gabriel now?”
“With Van, near Geneva. Not far. A few hours by car.”
“You can take me then—because, as it happens, I do have the letters. I’ll give them to Gabriel and he can do what he wants with them.” I give Nesbitt one of my best stares.
Nesbitt shudders, then laughs. “Sounds like a plan. Leave now or tomorrow?”
I think about it. I haven’t slept properly for ages; it would be good to rest before we go. But I don’t want to sleep near Nesbitt. I still don’t trust him. And I don’t trust the animal inside me either.
“Tomorrow,” I say. “I’ve got something to do. I’ll be back in the morning.” Though all I’ve got to do is rest and think.
As I’m about to leave I ask him, “Do you have a Gift, Nesbitt?” He’s a Half Blood but I think he has one.
“I can see in the dark. Real well.”
“Useful.”
“And you?” he asks. “You were trying to get back to Mercury for your birthday. I’m guessing you had your Giving. But have you found your Gift yet?”
“I was brought up to think it rude to ask a witch about their Gift.”