‘Was what your father did really so bad that an entire Clan needed to be exterminated?’
It was a rhetorical question but I answered it anyway. ‘He was responsible for more than a thousand deaths. He exterminated Clan Adair himself. I’m not aware of more than that, though. I was a baby when it all went down and no one ever saw fit to tell me the salient details.’ I smiled, although my smile was tinged with sadness. ‘I was a nobody, remember?’
Taylor reached over and hugged me tight. ‘You’re not a nobody now.’
For a brief moment, I felt safe and secure but it was only temporary. I pulled away. ‘I have to get going. There’s a lot to do before I walk into the lions’ den.’ I met his eyes. ‘Why did the lion lose at poker?’
Taylor didn’t smile. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Because he was playing against a cheetah.’
His eyes crinkled. Relief ran through me. That was more like the Taylor I knew and loved.
‘Tegs, you’re not going to…’
‘I’m going to do whatever’s necessary to keep myself and my family safe,’ I said. ‘No matter what.’
*
Wearing a far more sensible, if boring, black ensemble, I strolled onto the pavement, whistling a merry tune. I glanced up one way and down another. Two Sidhe were sitting in a car directly opposite, and there was a shadow in an alcove about fifty feet away. I pursed my lips. I could handle three of them. This was my territory, after all – not theirs.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and ambled to my left. Keeping my pace measured and my steps short, I didn’t stop anywhere but neither did I rush. Losing a tail was a game of patience and wit more than anything else.
I nodded to a few familiar faces, murmuring greetings. I didn’t let anyone engage me in conversation but I needed my three followers to think I was relaxed and going about my business before handing myself over to them. That’s why I made a beeline for the post office.
It was pension day so even though it was already after midday, the place was busy with people waiting to collect their money. Pensions weren’t something that the Sidhe had to worry about, I thought sourly, as my gaze travelled the length of the waiting area. Everyone here was, unsurprisingly, Clan-less, from the short dwarf with wrinkles so deep you could probably hide coins in them to the stooped human in a headscarf.
Instead of joining the queue, I went to the side, pulled an envelope out of my pocket and scribbled out an address. I didn’t have a stamp but I didn’t really need one. I simply walked over to the gap marked ‘international mail’ and dropped it in. I made a brief show of looking round anxiously in case anyone had noticed me, then left again.
At the corner, as I waited for the lights to change, I used the glass front of a nearby shop to scan behind me. As I expected, one of my followers – all of whom were now helpfully on foot – peeled off and entered the post office, no doubt to try and retrieve my letter. The post office didn’t like people messing with their systems, even if those people were well-connected Sidhe, so it would take him some time to do it. One down. Two to go.
It was interesting to note that one of the remaining tails was Mr Dimples. I wondered whether he still had the Lia Saifire on him. There wasn’t any noticeable bulge in his pockets but you never knew. Whether he had it or not, there was another pleasing bulge in his trousers that I enjoyed. Handsome and well-endowed. Well, well, well.
The moment the green man appeared, I crossed over, maintaining my earlier speed. This time, however, I lengthened my strides so I covered more ground more quickly. They would be expecting me to keep the same pace and it would take them a minute or two to realise that I was pulling away. It was a simple trick, but a good one. It was also well-timed as there was a set of crossroads ahead.
I checked my watch. 12.28pm. Perfect. I kept to the side of the pavement so my shoulder was almost brushing against the tall buildings on my left. A minute and a half later, I was at the MacReedy building just as the glass doors opened to let the vast secretarial department sprint out for lunch.
I hunched down, taking my battered baseball cap from my jacket pocket –it was the very same cap that Taylor gave me all those years ago – and jammed it on my head, tucking my hair underneath. Then I pushed my way through the crowd, zipped round the corner and ran.
Del’s Coffee, a grubby dive of a place, was less than thirty feet away. I weaved my way in and out of the busy foot traffic and ducked inside. It might serve coffee that you’d be inclined to avoid if you didn’t want to end up juddering for the rest of the day on a serious caffeine high but, with two exits, the place was ideal for me.
I sped through, throwing out a quick wave to the eponymous Del, the one-horned Bonnacon who ran the place.