Nothing happened. I kept pace with him and concentrated harder. I could see the magic inside him but, when I called to it, it refused to come. The first vestiges of panic swirled inside me. I’d always been confused by my strange Gift of theft, even if it made sense considering what I used to do for my day job. I’d come to rely on it and to expect it to work at my bidding; the thought that it might have deserted me was worrying. I focused, feeling pressure behind my skull. Still nothing happened. What was going on?

I reached into the sheath which hung at my waist and carefully drew out Bob’s letter opener. He spent more time out of it than inside it these days but he was prepared to hide in there to avoid listening to any more of my quips. I waited until I was completely alone again and then rubbed the blade with my sleeve.

There was a familiar flash of light and Bob blinked into existence. ‘I need your help,’ I hissed.

‘You want your last wish?’ He drew himself up with quivering excitement. ‘Well, that’s worth abandoning Buffy the Vampire Slayer for.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Do you want Byron to suffocate in his sleep? Or something a little more violent? I can arrange for castration…’

I winced. ‘No. Listen, it’s—’

‘Massacre everyone in the Cruaich?’

‘Jeez, Bob. How many times do I have to tell you that I won’t resort to that kind of thing? I’m not psychotic.’

He pursed his lips. ‘It’d be fair retribution for what happened to your Clan. Revenge isn’t psychotic, Uh Integrity, it’s noble. This world has been built on the pillars of revenge.’ He snapped his fingers, creating a miniature floating pulpit that he climbed on to. ‘Think Caesar,’ he intoned with a grandiose flourish. ‘Think Charles IX, the forty-seven Ronin, Operation Wrath of God.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Think Lorena Bobbit.’ He lowered his voice in a knowing aside. ‘Guess which one of those I had a hand in!’

‘Bob!’ I snapped. ‘Pay attention!’

The miniature pulpit vanished. ‘Go on then.’

‘I just tried to steal the Gift from a passing Sidhe. It didn’t work.’ I tried not to sound too anxious. ‘Is something wrong with me?’

Bob regarded me seriously. ‘I wouldn’t even know where to begin, Uh Integrity. We’ve had words already about your dress sense. Then there are those jokes…’

I ground my teeth. ‘Bob.’

He grinned. ‘No, you are the same as always.’

‘Then why couldn’t I steal from him?’

‘As you keep saying, you abhor violence regardless of how sensible and fulfilling it can be. The Sidhe probably had a violent Gift. Thus proving that if you concentrated harder, you could probably tell what each person’s Gift was. Your subconscious knows, so you just need to tap into that.’

Could Bob be right? ‘Okay,’ I said slowly. ‘Let’s try that theory. Point me in the direction of more Sidhe.’

He cocked his head. ‘Is that your wish?’