Page 49 of Fiendish Delights
‘Enjoy your party time out here in the freezing cold,’ Otis said. Hester gasped at his uncharacteristic audacity. ‘What?’ he asked. ‘They were being dreadfully rude.’
‘I’d have been disappointed if they weren’t,’ I murmured. There was something oddly reassuring about the doormen’s consistency.
I straightened my shoulders and joined the party.
At my behest, Hester and Otis drifted away, flitting between guests in search of tasty canapés and champagne. There were more people than I’d expected, so it wasn’t going to be easy to locate Hugo and the Primes. I circled the large drawing room then went into the dining room, which had been transformed into a ballroom.
There were well-dressed elves everywhere and I noted that they all boasted ear cuffs – bronze, silver or gold. There was the usual smattering of humans, witches and sorcerers who all appeared rich and well-connected, at least to my unrefined eyes. There were even a few more unusual creatures – but the place was mainly full of high elves. Hardly surprising.
Catching a glimpse of blonde hair out of the corner of my eye and expecting to see Becky, I turned to my left. I should have looked where I was going because the corner of my bag collided with an outstretched hand holding the stem of a wine glass. The chilled fizzy contents spilled down the front of my dress and I drew in a sharp breath.
‘My deepest apologies!’ A tall dark-haired man in a tuxedo, who looked far more alarmed and shocked than I felt, delved hurriedly into his pocket and extracted a pristine whitehandkerchief. He leaned forward to dab at my chest before suddenly thinking better of it and passing the handkerchief to me.
‘It was my fault,’ I said, doing what I could to mop up the sticky mess. ‘I wasn’t looking where I was going.’ I held out the stained, crumpled handkerchief. ‘Er, sorry about the mess.’
‘Please, do not apologise. And keep the handkerchief – it might come in useful later.’ As he smiled, I registered the sudden recognition flaring in his eyes.
‘Thanks,’ I said awkwardly.
‘You’re Daisy Carter, aren’t you? You’re the one who helped stop Humphrey Bridger.’
‘Yeah.’ I nodded. ‘That was me.’
‘Extraordinary.’ He looked me up and down. ‘We shouldn’t underestimate elves like you.’
Uh-huh. Something in his tone made me realise exactly what he meant byelves like you.‘I was away when all that went down,’ he continued. ‘If I’d been here, I’d have taken care of Bridger myself. If I’d stabbed him, he wouldn’t have stood back up again – though my magic would have been more than enough.’
Wankstain. I smiled prettily and met his eyes. With a jolt, I saw the ring of silver around his pupils: he was a spider’s silk user. High elf or not, he wouldn’t have as much magic as he thought.
He nodded towards my bag. ‘Does that contain what I think it does?’
I doubted it.
‘Because if it does,’ he continued smoothly, ‘there must be enough in there to supply the needs of everyone in this building. How much for ten?’
‘I’m not a dealer.’
‘You can trust me.’
Uh-huh. ‘Still not a dealer.’
‘Because if you were, you’d use all your own product. Am I right?’ He laughed. ‘What’s the bag for then? So you can steal the silver?’ He laughed harder, genuinely amused at his own humour.
He’d been the picture of politeness until the moment he’d realised who I was – or rather what I was. Spotting a passing waiter, I snagged a glass of wine; I’d throw it in his face if he said anything else untoward. Then I noticed Hugo watching me from the other side of the room with a dark expression.
‘You know,’ the man said, blithely unaware of anything other than himself, ‘I have a private room upstairs. The two of us could retire there and get away from all this noise. I’ve fucked a few low elves before – I know what your kind enjoy.’ He reached out and I had the horrifying thought that he was about to stroke my arm as if I were some kind of pet. Or attempt something worse.
I manoeuvred myself to the side and jerked the edge of my bag so it poked into his thigh perilously close to his groin.
‘Steady on!’ he protested.
I smiled. ‘That’s Gladys.Gladius Acutissimus Gloriae Et Sanguinis, to give her full name, but I call her Gladys for short. She’s an ancient sentient sword gifted to me by a creature known as the Fachan after I bested him in battle.’ Okay, that last part was a lie. ‘She can be … touchy, and so can I. I suggest you move away before one of us decides you’re becoming a problem.’
‘Psycho bitch!’ he hissed, his urbane mask slipping. In an instant, he’d disappeared into the crowd.
I should have stabbed him, I thought idly, although the truth was that Gladys was safely locked up at home. I wouldn’t bring a sword to a party, not even this party.
‘Hey, Daisy.’ I turned and saw Rizwan grinning at me. ‘I thought I’d see if you needed any help with Alan D’Engle. Hehas something of a reputation. I should have known that you wouldn’t need rescuing.’
