‘Call it a favour.’

‘In return I would like…’ He fell silent at the expression on my face. ‘Fine,’ he muttered. He jerked his head to the right. ‘There’s a group about two hundred metres away.’

‘That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?’

He stuck out his tongue.

Following Bob’s directions, I carefully wound my way towards the oblivious Sidhe. I doubted whether I could work out what Gifts each one had; it wasn’t something I’d been capable of before now. If I couldn’t achieve that kind of knowledge with Morna’s help, there was little chance I could do it with Bob’s. It would make life considerably easier, though. If I could pick and choose which magic to steal, I could end up with an array of Gifts as part of my arsenal. That thought spurred me on and I moved faster.

‘They’re in a clearing just up ahead,’ Bob whispered in my ear.

I cast around. Just in front of me there was a large oak tree with some low-lying branches and heavy foliage that might do the trick. Grinning, I began to climb. When I thought I was high enough, I shimmied out across one of the far-reaching branches and peered through the leaves. Bob was right: there were more than a dozen male Sidhe milling around for no apparent reason.

I looked from one to another. Their clothing signalled they were from different Clans – Moncrieffe, Kincaid, Darroch, MacGillivray and Riddell. I didn’t recognise any of them. Focusing my attention on the closest one – a youngish guy with red hair – I furrowed my brow. As before, I could see the magic inside him but I had no clue as to what it was. I emptied my mind of all my turbulent thoughts, blocked out the Sidhe’s chatter and my arboreal-induced discomfort, until the two of us might have been the only people in the entire world. His Gift called to me. Desire to take it ran through my veins as if I were being seduced into stealing. I held my breath, only aware of the thrumming of my heartbeat and the twisting magic within the Sidhe.

‘Huh, that’s interesting,’ Bob said.

I just managed to avoid yelping. ‘Goddamnit, Bob!’ I hissed, my fingers gripping the branch harder so I could remain in place. ‘I’m trying to concentrate!’

‘Well,’ he huffed, ‘I’d have thought you of all people would be interested in their conversation. D’you think Byron would invite me?’

‘What?’

He tsked and poked my cheek. ‘He thinks you’re dead. I have no reason not to be here. I could pretend to bump into him and then maybe he’d invite me along. I like parties.’

‘Bob, what on earth are you on about?’

He sighed as if I were incredibly dim-witted. ‘Listen.’

I widened my focus so that instead of being wholly absorbed in one man, I was paying attention to them all.

‘What about strippers?’ asked one swarthy Sidhe, who was Moncrieffe judging by the tartan he was wearing.