Page 28 of Pining for the Prince
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Gwil used to argue harder that it was unfair to refer to Copperpipe and his associates as dirt devils but it was difficult when, nine times out of ten, they were to be found lounging around in some of the foulest parts of London’s sewers.
“Copperpipe!” he called, the beam of his flashlight showing his surroundings all too well and, while he might look like a wally, the chest-height fishing waders were necessary if he didn’t want to get covered in the filth flowing below the pavements of London.
His voice echoed around the brickwork and the water sloshed around his ankles. He’d already slathered eucalyptus gel under his nose to avoid the worst of the smell, but that would only last so long.
Living down here meant time was an abstract notion to Copperpipe, and Gwil hoped he wouldn’t have to hang around too long before the little shit showed up. A grate slid across and Copperpipe stuck his head through. Try as Gwil might every time he saw him Copperpipe reminded him of a mouldy potato. But then they were a sub-species of goblin. What other species his ancestors had bred with wasn’t clear to anyone, and he wasn’t about to ask.
“Watchya, Fangface.”
“I’ve missed your eloquence and wit. Not to mention the charm of your home. Have you decorated?”
Copperpipe snorted and wriggled the rest of him out of the grate, landing with a splash in front of Gwil. “I would have thought you’d like it down here. Nice and dark, so you don’t turn into a piece of crispy bacon.”
“If my choice was down here or turning to charcoal I’d be buying a barbeque myself.”
Copperpipe came up to Gwil’s chest and poked him in the stomach with a long finger. “Getting skinnier. Are you not feeding properly?”
The strange mothering quality of some of Copperpipe’s ways always took him off guard. He slapped his hand away to stop him poking him again. “Just because your species prefers a roundness to their physiques does not mean there’s anything wrong with mine.”
“Blah, blah, blah. Deflecting again.” Copperpipe clicked his tongue. “What do you want? You didn’t say in your message so I assume it’s not something you could write down.”
“Information, at a negotiable rate and I want you to acquire something for me.”
“I’m not a personal shopper.” He laughed at his own joke. “Actually, I can be. Might improve your dress sense.”
“Thanks but no thanks, compost sacks are so last season. What I want to know is about Stardust, specifically bad batches.”
“Every batch is a bad batch. Nasty stuff.”
“Worse drugs out there. Most folks think of it as a light dab to get the party started.”
“Doesn’t make it a good option.” Copperpipe sniffed and rubbed the end of his bulbous nose. “But I have heard whispers about things not being as they should be.”
“Such as?”
He tilted his head to one side. “Made a fae almost lose their sparkle, and a fang slough off bits in an unpleasant place.”
“I can’t imagine there’s a pleasant place for bits to slough off.” He’d heard about the fae, but if there were vampires affected then it would make sense why Penelope had asked. “What I’m trying to find out is who is making these batches. And if they are deliberately contaminating them to target different species.”
“That is not a small ask.”
Gwil sighed, he knew there would be some element of negotiation needed. “What do you want in return?”
Copperpipe’s nostrils flared. “Nectar, the good harvest not the runny ends. Your pretty friend should be able to help.”
“Really, surely it’s just posh honey?”
“I dare you to say that to the pretty fairy. He would pull out your fangs.”
Hyax did get a little defensive over the nectar thing. “Possibly. But I daresay he could conjure up a few bottles of a decent calibre.”
Copperpipe licked his lips, it was one of the most disturbing things Gwil had seen in a long while. “I will send out the snipes. Give me a few days. We will need to root out the details, such things are not in the open.”
“I want more than information. I need a sample.”
“Why? What good can come of that?”
