‘I am nota detective.’

‘’Course you are! Look, it’s easy.’ She leaned towards me, her long pony-tail falling onto the desk. ‘All you have to do is go there and talk to the staff, y’know, like the tea-boy, or the janitor.’

‘I don’t think the Blue Heart has tea-boys.’

‘Y’know what I mean.’ She flicked her hair back. ‘I see it all the time on the telly when me and Mum watch murder mysteries together. You just listen to what everyone has to say and put all the clues together and then you work out who the murderer is.’ She frowned. ‘Either that or the killer bumps you off to stop you blabbing his secret.’

‘Thanks, Katie—that is soreassuring.’ I stood up. ‘Anyway, I’ve got gremlins to deal with, and I expect Freddie will be tearing his hair out if you don’t get back soon.’

She ducked below the desk, searching for her shoes. ‘Freddie’s bald.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Ha, Ha.’ She shook a flip-flop at me, then gave me a pleading look. ‘You’re going to go, aren’t you, and find out who killed Bobby’s girlfriend for him?’

‘Decision time—let me think: should I visit a vampire club where every sucker wants to drink my blood and turn me into a blood-slave while I’m looking for a murderer who wants to kill me, or not?’ I gave her a mildly sarcastic look. ‘Definitely a no-brainer, Katie.’

Her face turned serious. ‘Well, it’s always possible the murderer might try and kill you anyway, unless you can find him first.’

Damn. She was right. And attack was said to be the best form of defence, wasn’t it?

‘Sometimes you’re way too smart.’ I took the two silver invitations from her and dropped them into my bag.

She chewed her lip. ‘You will be careful, won’t you, Genny?’

‘As a vampire in a thunderstorm,’ I muttered.

Iwalked into Leicester Square, my heart thudding in my chest. The bright signs of the clubs, pubs, cinemas and restaurants flashed like gigantic goblin badges. It was a couple of hours before midnight and the Square heaved with punters. Their voices hummed against my ears. Popcorn and excitement scented the air, and the hot dryness of the heat-wave coated my skin. I touched tentative fingers to the silver invitations lodged in my jacket pocket and stopped a not-so-comfortable distance away from London’s premier vampire nightclub.

The Blue Heart had been a cinema in its former life and the outside still looked much the same. Two-foot-high silver letters hung down over the entrance, with the ‘a’ in ‘heart’ replaced by an actual blue neon heart that pulsed like it was alive. Film-style posters advertised the current Vampire Calendar Celebrities: Mr September had top billing as a neck-ruffed Elizabethan, Mr August in his twelfth century Crusader get-up was the outgoing act, while Mr June in his WWII uniform was obviously the understudy for October’s absent star.

It had taken nearly an hour on the club’s website, and three trawls through my wardrobe, to finally settle on something to wear: a black Lycra top, banded round my neck and waist, that covered my front and left my back bare, and a Lycra wraparound skirt, also black. It was one of my Sucker Town outfits. But as bare flesh to vampires is like wearing a come-and-fang-me-sign, I’d topped it off with a knee-length bronze silk coat. The shoes matched the coat: bronze Vintage Westwoods with two inches of platform and six inches of thin metal heel. Okay, so they weren’t that easy on the feet, but hey, what girl wouldn’t suffer for some killer heels?

‘Mm-mm-mm: don’t you smell just totally delicious,’ the contralto voice purred in my ear.

My pulse jumping, I took a step away, then turned sharply to face Rio, the manager of the Blue Heart. I recognised her from the publicity shots on the club’s website, and from her fuzz of tight curls dyed her trademark pale blue. What the photos hadn’t shown was her height. She had to be an inch or two over six feet tall, but the thigh-high platform boots of electric-blue leather added at least another six inches to her long legs while her blue leather hotpants looked spray-painted onto her narrow hips. She stood grinning at me, her huge lavender-coloured eyes dancing with mischief in her café-aulait face, while the sheer fabric the blouse tied at her midriff did nothing to hide her almost nonexistent breasts, or her obvious excitement.

Shit. How had she managed to creep up on me? My vamp radar was usually better than that. Maybe last night’s G-Zav was still screwing with it.

She brought her hands together with a soft clap. ‘Oh, did I scare you?’ A pink tongue darted out to lick her full bottom lip. ‘I do hope so. Fear adds such a piquant flavour to the blood.’

Trying to calm my speeding pulse, I held up one of the silver invitations between my thumb and forefinger. ‘Sorry to disappoint.’ I smiled, with just a touch of smirk. ‘Invited guest, not part of the catering.’

She made an exaggerated pout as she plucked the invitation from my hand. ‘And there I was getting all tingly at the prospect of a sip of sidhe.’ Handling the silver slab carefully by the edges, she scraped the metal with a sharp blue fingernail, turning it over and around as though it were something new she’d just discovered.

‘An invitation from the Earl, no less.’ She offered the silver slab back, then as I was about to take it, snatched it up out of my reach. ‘Why settle for second-best?’—she stroked a long finger down her missing cleavage—‘when I could make you a much better offer.’

Giving a loud sigh, I held my hand out.

‘As you wish.’ She dropped the silver into my hand.

I pocketed it, and strode towards the entrance.

‘You really should consider it.’ She fell into step next to me. ‘Or rather, consider me. Something as delightful as you deserves to be relished, like the finest dessert, licked and nibbled and sucked’—her voice lowered as she gave me a fang-filled grin—‘and eaten right up, one glorious mouthful at a time.’

Ignoring her, I halted inside the foyer near the semi-circle of ticket booths. The small Monitor goblins manning them were perched on jacked-up barstools. They were only eighteen inches tall, so they needed the boost—not that their size made any difference to their ability to sense magic, of course. The one nearest me, his powder-blue dreads swinging, briefly turned his black wraparounds in my direction while sliding a triple-jointed finger down his nose. I returned the greeting. Then he carefully stamped the back of his lilac-haired customer’s hand with a blue ink heart the size of a fifty-pence piece and waved the woman away. She wandered off through the crowd, handbag swinging from her arm, and into the gift shop.

The vamps had more than one way to bleed you dry.

Rio circled behind me like a restless shark. ‘Welcome to the Blue Heart, delicious sidhe.’ She trailed a finger down my cheek.

A shiver of induced excitement slithered down my spine. Mesma.

I stepped away from her and the sensation faded as soon as she no longer touched me. Mentally I downgraded her. She might call the Earl second-best, but in reality she was much further down the pile.

She laughed, the husky sound vibrating through the air, and the people milling about all stopped, their eyes drawn to her. She spread her arms wide and turned a slow circle, breathing in the scents of the excited clubbers.

‘Oh, such a response,’ she shivered. ‘Aren’t humans wonderful? ’ She cocked her head to one side, looked down at me. ‘Here’s hoping your visit is as exciting’—she winked a large lavender eye—‘as Idesire.’

‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ I said, adding sweetly, ‘I would sohate to ruin your evening.’

‘You are going to be suchfun.’ She shook a blue-tipped finger at me and the glint in her eyes turned more predatory. ‘So I’ll make you a promise, my sweet little sidhe: for your first night at the Blue Heart, there will be entertainment such as you will never forget.’