listen to me. I think I’ve seen her in a dream. Can you text me a picture?”
“If this is a trick...”
“It isn’t. I promise. I never hurt Sofia, I’m not trying to hurt this one either. But I want to see her because I need to test a theory.”
My phone buzzed about thirty seconds later, and a picture loaded slowly. Having been around her more-or-less constantly, I hadn’t quite noticed how much Sofia had matured over the years, but looking at Patrick’s new paramour I was suddenly reminded how big the difference was between sixteen and nineteen. Of course both were very far from a hundred and forty.
She was young, like super young, and pretty in a classical blonde-hair-blue eyesy way. She was wearing a slightly oversized tee-shirt with a stylised heart on the front and the words Play With Heart worked into the middle of it in swirly pink writing. I’d definitely seen her in my dreams.
“Do you have it?” I wasn’t sure if he sounded more concerned or more furious. “If there is something I must know in order to protect her, you will tell me at once.”
There was. “Yeah,” I said. “I think—this might sound a bit weird but I’m about ninety-five percent sure she’s the holy grail.”
“What?” It was one half expression of incredulity, one half request for clarification.
I pressed a button and lay my phone on the table. “Okay, Patrick, you’re on speaker, because I want you and the werewolves to hear the rest of this.”
“Thank you so much for including us.” I’d have said Tara’s tone was icy, but given our recent experiences I was saving that adjective for something far nastier.
And Patrick’s was no better. “Tell me what is happening at once,” he insisted, somewhat tinnily over my ageing speakers.
“Okay, here’s the deal. The Prince of Wands wants us all dead, but while he’s come for me and Sofia and the wolves hard as fuck, he’s left you alone.”
“I have evaded him.”
“Let me guess: You’re out of town with the new girl keeping your head down.”
“I have a name, you know.” That was a new voice—apparently Patrick had decided two could play the speaker game.
“Katharine, this is Elaine. Elaine, this is Katharine.”
“Okay,” I went on. “Elaine, you wouldn’t be in a castle of any kind would you?”
“Well my parents have a place in the Lake District but—”
“Do not give away our location. You never know who might be listening.” To give Patrick his due, that was sensible advice.
“You don’t have to, the point is that I think there’s a good chance that two powerful magical beings want to kill you in different ways. I’m betting good money on you being the key to waking up Nimue and restabilising a lot of weird magic stuff that I don’t have time to explain right now. But it means that a powerful faery is going to want to get rid of you so that you can’t do that, and the Prince of Wands is—well, I won’t sugar-coat, it there’s a good chance he’ll want to drain your blood so he can become, like, magic vampire King Arthur or something. Oh, also Yelena is probably going to want to torture you to death for reasons that have basically nothing to do with your magical powers and everything to do with who you’re dating.”
She made a noise that I feel stupid describing as “yeep” but I think it was basically “yeep”. Then Patrick made his usual comforting promises about how he would never allow any harm to come to her which, to be fair, was a promise that he had a remarkably good track record of delivering on, if you didn’t count the emotional damage that came from an age-inappropriate relationship with a total fuckhead.
“I know this is a mess,” I went on, “but our best hope here is to try to work together. I’m not sure because I’m going almost entirely off symbolism and metaphors, but I think I’m supposed to come and find you and bring you to Nimue. And then—I don’t know, but I think then everything will work out.”
“Is that your plan,” Tara seemed to be walking a very narrow line between amused and pissed the fuck off. “Go and find the girl and then hope it all turns out okay?”
I sighed. “I trust Nim. I’ve known her longer than I’ve known basically anybody”—I turned my attention briefly to the phone—“except you, Patrick, obviously but that doesn’t count because I hate you. You said