Black London 05 - Soul Trade

be in this fucking back of beyond shitehole, would I?”
    Pete wrapped her arms around herself. The Black stung her again, that odd strangledfeeling of wild magic directed into an unnatural channel.
    “The magic is all wrong,” she said. “It feels like static on a telly, except it’s in my head.”
    Donovan’s lip pulled up in a disconcerting imitation of Jack’s grin. There wasn’t any warmth to the expression, though—unlike Jack’s face, looking at Donovan’s was like looking at a great white shark, an apex predator devoid of anything recognizablyhuman.
    “I have a feeling if we find out what’s causing that bit of ruckus, we’ll have solved the whole thing, Watson.”
    “Not Holmes?” Pete said. She started forward, trusting Donovan at her back. It might be the last mistake she ever made, but she needed to draw him out so he would think things were fine when she hit him with her next verbal punch.
    “You seem rather comfortable as the sidekick,”Donovan said, walking beside her. “Just going by what I see.”
    “I do hold Watson’s contempt for roundabout bullshit,” Pete said. “So why don’t you get down to what you really want to say to me, Donovan?”
    Jack’s father lifted one dark eyebrow. “Which would be?”
    “You’re not here for Crotherton,” Pete said. “You’re here for Jack and the Prospero Society.” She glanced at Donovan over her shoulder,and the slight hitch in his gait told her she’d been right to voice her suspicions.
    “What gave me away?” he asked at last, having the gall to look amused.
    “Oh, let’s see,” Pete said, ticking her fingers. “Somebody from Jack’s past, so we’d feel an instant connection to you for good or ill. Showing up with perfect timing to save us from a problem you lot created. Agreeing to help me with onlythe most pathetic of token protests.”
    Donovan shook his head. Droplets of moisture had collected on the tips of his short hair, and they rolled down his face, giving the impression that even in the chill he was sweating. Or crying. Pete knew better, though. Sociopaths like Donovan Winter never sweated, never felt the prickle of a tear they didn’t manufacture themselves.
    “I stand corrected,”he said. “You are Holmes.”
    “Left my violin at home,” Pete agreed. “But I do all right.”
    “You got one bit wrong, though,” Donovan said. They walked through the green, which was empty and littered with garbage, crumpled sleeping bags, half-collapsed tents, and empty lager bottles. Pete kept her eyes out for any movement in the fog, but found none.
    “Oh?” she asked, only half paying attention toDonovan now. Morwenna had better pin a fucking medal on her, or better yet give her a fat stack of cash. Using Jack’s own father had been a master stroke on the Prosperians’ part. Who better to recruit Jack than the man he hated, yet most wanted to please?
    “We didn’t do this,” Donovan said, sweeping his arm over the empty field. “Crotherton really was here of his own free will, looking for thatfat fuck Preston Mayflower. What he found, well…” He shrugged. “Who can say? But those things aren’t anything I’ve run across. Not demon, not spell-spawned. It’s like they come from someplace where magic doesn’t work right, and the longer I’m in Overton the worse it gets.”
    “So I guess you won’t be saving us again if we run into more worms,” Pete said.
    Donovan shook his head. “You saved yourselfback there, missy. I can’t throw around the flashy shite like you and my boy. The leg-locker is about the extent of it.”
    “So you’re not the Prospero Society’s hard man?” Pete said, feigning disbelief. “Then why send you to talk us in? Haven’t you heard Jack and I are dangerous types?”
    “From half of the hedge-hexers and kitchen witches in the UK,” Donovan said. “But when it comes to human mages,I’m not worried. I’m more of a person to person sort of magic user.”
    When Pete gave him a blank look, he spread his hands. “I’m a mind-bender, dear. I can make you think you love me, or you hate that bloke over there and want to punch him in the teeth.”
    “You mindfuck people,” Pete said. “All at once, so much about you makes sense, Donovan.”
    “Came in handy with Jack’s mum,” Donovan said. “Youever try to convince a bipolar pill addict to calm down and give you the knife without magical powers of persuasion?”
    “I appreciate you slipping that bit about her