Free The Neon Court by Kate Griffin

out my mobile, and dialled Leslie Dees.
    She answered within a ring and a half.
    “Mr Mayor.”
    “Please don’t call me that.”
    “Mr Swift,” she replied without dropping a beat. “How is everything?”
    “Lady Neon’s come to town!” I said cheerfully.
    “I did inform you …”
    “I’ve just met her.”
    A note of alarm entered Dees’ voice. “You didn’t permit her to touch you, did you?”
    “No, Dees,” I sighed. “I neither touched her, nor kissed her, nor shared drink with her; I am, in fact, fully in charge of my own faculties and not under her spell, in fact, I think she’s a rather peculiar little woman who’s not afraid of mucking me around during a trying time. Oh – and I have beautiful eyes.”
    “I can’t say I ever really looked.”
    “Thank you for your lack of interest.”
    “Mr Swift, if it’s any comfort to you, I can promise that were I not a happily married woman with a husband I love well,” sighed Dees, “you would definitely be in my top two genders of choice.”
    “You know how to flatter a guy.”
    “It seemed important to you to hear it.”
    “Thanks a bundle,” I growled. “Serious business, if you please?”
    “I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for you to speak those words, Mr Swift.”
    I resisted the temptation to hit the phone, as a substitute for something more sensitive. “I’ve just heard the words ‘chosen one’ spoken out loud without giggling.”
    “I see. And who spoke these mystically vague and somewhat portentous words?”
    “Some tit in a mask. But he was holding Lady Neon’s hand.”
    “I
see
.” Say what you will for Dees, she knew enough about magic to know when to be upset by its misuse. “A ‘chosen one’?”
    “Yep. Apparently” – sarcasm dripped off the end of my tongue – “there’s a ‘chosen one’ who is going to end the war between the Court and the Tribe, and I have twenty-four hours to find her – hey, she’s a girl, I know that much; in fact, that’s all I know – before the Neon Court goes to war with the Tribe and anyone else who stands in their way. Which might include me. It’s all up in the air. But you never know.”
    There was a long, judicious silence from the other end of the line. Finally, rather than let the air waves languish, Dees said, “I
see
. Any more information?”
    “Apparently we have to talk to the prophets.”
    “Which prophets?”
    “I don’t know. I was under the impression most of them were dead after … because of Bakker and … well, you know. Incidentally, did you know that the Neon Court kept a 747 dragon?”
    “No, I did not,” was Dees’ irritated reply, and I sensed, for a moment, paperwork yet to come. “Obviously I’ll have a look into this prophet business but …”
    “Have you heard anything from the Tribe?” I asked. “I mean, since some of their guys are dead too. Are they threatening hellfire?”
    “If they were, they probably wouldn’t tell us.”
    “Is the Tribe one of the many institutions that would happily kill us and drink our blood?” we asked. “Or do they have a sense of self-preservation and perspective?”
    “Mr Mayor, I really cannot recommend direct overtures to the Tribe without taking some serious precautions.”
    “That’s me, Serious Precautions Swift.”
    “You are aware that the Court may have a case, that this could be just what it seems – an act of aggression by the Tribe against our ally …?”
    “Dees,” I began, and then cut myself short. “Yeah. Maybe. Doubt it. Lady Neon arrived too soon, she had to be in the air by the time all this was happening, and the Court found me too easily, which probably means they were looking.”
    “You are aware, Mr Mayor, then when casually scrying the streets of London, you stand out like a giraffe on roller skates, yes?”
    “And even leaving that aside,” I snapped, “what the hell’s with this ‘chosen one’ bollocks? You’re a cynical lady, Dees.”
    “I take