Page 31 of Searching for the Prince
Gwil hadn’t met Jack Webb He’d heard of him as a legal whizz, although nothing about him being on the scaley side. He knew to keep his mouth shut, even if he had. If Jack had been recommended by the Invigilators, he’d be one of the best, as the Invigilators were there to ensure fair play in the Vampire Council and had to be able to deal with pretty much anything.
“Not my place to confirm or deny. Ben is in his potion shack brewing a few important bits and bobs, so all being well, we should be able to finalise the plans within the next day or so.”
Gwil hadn’t expected the Dark Earl of Crofton to do the brewing, but he was fast realising there was nothing about the assignment he should take for granted. They must be more advanced with the plan than he thought. He got the feeling Hyax was about to be dropped into the middle and he wouldn’t be happy but would mask his annoyance outwardly until he got the chance to blast the shit out of something to vent his anger.
A scuffling noise came from the fireplace and Copperpipe, wearing a new flour sack judging by the minimal stains, scrambled out and grinned. Gwil hadn’t told him where he was, but Copperpipe knew things Gwil had no idea how he foundout, and if he were honest didn’t want to know. “What is the collective noun for Fang Faces? A phlebotomy?”
“You must excuse Copperpipe,” Gwil said quickly. “He doesn’t understand the concept of deference.”
Copperpipe snorted. “Senior vamps never have a sense of humour.”
It was obvious Robin didn’t know what to make of Copperpipe. “There’s not a lot at the moment for me to laugh at.”
Copperpipe’s expression changed to sad, and he rubbed his nose. “Yes, you are missing your pretty princeling, Mr Flint. But I bring you good news.”
“You do?”
From out of his sacking, he removed a crumpled piece of paper and waved it for Robin to take. “There is no way to speak or write the name of the exact place—there is powerful forgetmist over the area—but I’ve drawn you a map. It sits in the middle.”
Robin took the piece of paper between his thumb and forefinger, no doubt wondering where it might have been secreted. He held the page up for them all to see. Gwil wouldn’t call it a map as such, but there was anXin the middle of three place names Weobley, Ledgemoor and King’s Pyon, like a rubbish treasure map.
Solivatus took the piece of paper from Robin, looking equally concerned about its origin. “Herefordshire. I believe.”
Copperpipe nodded. “My associate may have accidentally eaten a couple of cows. Tasty.”
Sebastian peered at the map. “TheXis in marshland… ancient common land and the sort of place witches were thought to hang out. But it’s a bit too cold and damp for the fun stuff.”
“Surely someone would notice a manor house in the middle of a marsh.” Robin turned back to Copperpipe. “Are you sure it’s here?”
“Yes. The place reeks of badness… no mistake.”
“I suppose if a sewer dweller says it smells bad then there must be something about it,” Robin said, and Gwil thought he had a point. He’d never known Copperpipe to offer judgment on his intel, making him think they should be extra cautious.
“Weobley is one of those old places, there’d be powerful ley lines under the marshland.” Sebastian seemed to be recalling a memory. “Used to have a castle… lots of dark places and willing bodies that bleed. I do miss the 1400s… death was simpler then.”
“Thanks, Copperpipe,” Gwil said, shooing him back to the fireplace, keen that he didn’t say something that might get them both into trouble. “I’ll have the eclairs shipped straightaway.”
“The good ones, with extra salted caramel.” The way Copperpipe smacked his lips made Robin shudder and several others in the room grimace.
“Absolutely. A dozen a day for the next month.”
He went the way he came, and Robin turned to Gwil. “Eclairs?”
“He’s got no need for money, and our dealings are transactional dependent on what he wants at the time.”
“If he’s found me Simon, I’ll give him anything he wants in the world.”
“That’s the thing, what he wants at the moment is salted caramel eclairs.” Gwil smiled, he wished some of his clients were even as half as straightforward. “It’ll be different again next time, but he does like a pear drop and I have a bag of those delivered once a month whether I need him or not.”
Sebastian opened a laptop and pulled up an ordnance survey map of the area. He had a way of hyper-focusing that was unnerving and Gwil never wanted to be the object of his scrutiny. “Now we have our location let’s get our three witches together and see what they’ve come up with.”
Gwil winced at the term, as one of those had to be Hyax.
“But there’s so much we don’t know,” Robin said.
“We couldn’t wait for everything to be confirmed, I’ve been making plans and drawing up scenarios based on what we did know and a risk-based hypothesis. We need to be ready to act.”
Solivatus’s mobile pinged. He read the message. “Seems Dr Mettle is holding a new meeting in two days… Time for you to be saved, Robin, maybe taken into residential care.”
