Page 26 of Quiver of Cobras
He veered in and out of the wandering pedestrians. At first I thought he was running randomly, panic making him head any which way. When I caught sight of the bus stop ahead – and the waiting bus – I realised he was cannier than I’d expected and he had a plan. He was going to jump on the bus to get away from me. Well, I was wise to him. Nobody escaped the Madhatter.
I put on an extra spurt of speed. He was almost at the bus – but so was I. Even if he managed to clamber aboard, he wouldn’t have the time to explain to the driver that a crazed, leather-bound, S&M-inclined woman was after him before I joined him and yanked him off again.
Twenty metres. Nineteen. Eighteen. A woman with a pram appeared out of nowhere and I screamed at her to get out of my way. She froze. Cursing, I leapt round her. Mr Tail was at the bus. Gasbudlikins.
I threw myself forward, realising too late that he’d not been aiming for the double decker after all. Right in front of it – and concealed by its large shape – was a taxi rank. As I ran past the front of the bus, the old man slammed the door of the nearest taxi and it took off.
Yelling in frustration, I jumped into the next taxi. ‘Follow that cab!’
The taxi driver slowly put down his newspaper with its half-finished crossword. ‘Pardon?’ Then he turned and looked at me, tired eyes taking in my outfit. ‘Nice clothes!’
‘Follow that fucking taxi!’ I screeched.
The driver’s amusement at my clothing vanished. ‘You’re not James Bond. We’re in Manchester, not Monaco. Get out.’
Belatedly it occurred to me that screaming an order might be my best move. The taxi driver pointed at the door. I looked over his shoulder and out of the front window. The old man had already disappeared.
I ground my teeth. The only good thing about any of this was that no one had been around to witness my humiliation. It wasn’t worth arguing with the driver, not any longer, so I did as he asked and stumbled out.
That was when I caught sight of Artemesia, standing on the other side of the busy road, laughing.
Chapter Seven
We sat down at a table towards the back of the coffee shop, well away from the windows in case any Fey loyal to Rubus might pass by. I ordered a black coffee, figuring that it was a beverage that would match my dark, twisted soul. However, as soon as Artemesia’s hot chocolate with marshmallows, cream and sprinkles arrived, I immediately regretted my choice. The moment she got up to use the loo, I swapped the drinks around. I managed three gulps of cocoa goodness before she came back. She gave me enough of a glare to compel me to swap them back. Ho-hum.
‘I’ve not found anything to restore your memory,’ she told me. ‘I have a few ideas but nothing definite. You’re welcome to experiment with what I’ve come up with so far but I should warn you that there will be side-effects.’
She said this last part so casually that I could only assume the side-effects were horrific. ‘Such as?’ I asked, wanting to be sure.
‘Definitely paralysis. Possibly loss of hearing.’ She smirked. ‘And perhaps the added bonus of extra facial hair.’
Lovely. ‘I’ll pass, thanks.’
She shrugged. ‘Your choice.’
I toyed with my teaspoon. ‘I met Carduus, your uncle.’
Artemesia went very still.
‘He ran some tests on me. I also told him and Rubus where your shed was.’
She didn’t blink. ‘I expected as much.’
‘I only told them because I knew you didn’t trust me and that you’d already have moved on,’ I said, earnestly.
‘So what you’re saying is that you betrayed my trust because I didn’t trust you?’
I wrinkled my nose. ‘Uh, sort of. It was a calculated risk.’
Artemesia’s gaze was steady. ‘A calculated risk is fine when you’re the one taking that risk. You were risking my life, not your own.’
On that point, I wasn’t going to back down. ‘If I can get Rubus to trust me, it’ll be worth it.’
She shook her head. ‘He’s never going to trust you fully. He never trusted the old you fully. He’s certainly not going to trust the “new” you.’
I took a sip of my coffee. It seemed that no one fully trusted me. To be honest, I didn’t fully trust myself. But this was now – what about back then?
I squinted. I needed more information. ‘What do you mean he never trusted the old me? He called me “my Madrona”. Well,hisMadrona.’ I scrunched up my face. ‘You know what I mean.’
