He sniffed loudly and vanished just as the back door opened and a rush of noise greeted my ears. A face peered out. ‘Chardonnay? Is that you? Are you ready?’

Chardonnay? Good grief. I smiled and nodded. At least my voice would be less of a concern this time around. I pitched my tone slightly higher to match the real Chardonnay’s. ‘Who am I looking for?’

‘You don’t know? The stag is Byron Moncrieffe.’ He said it as if there should be a drum roll.

‘Oh.’ I tried to look impressed and I felt the Illusion ripple to mimic the thought. ‘Okay, then.’

He looked me up and down sleazily. ‘He’s a lucky boy.’

Yeah, yeah. I smiled daintily and dropped a curtsey. ‘Then let’s get this show on the road.’

I followed the man inside, past cardboard boxes filled with pork scratchings and crisps which made my stomach grumble loudly. He turned and frowned at me. I giggled. ‘I’ve not eaten yet,’ I said. ‘I find I’ve got more of an edge on an empty stomach.’

He waggled his eyebrows. ‘Well,’ he said in a voice that was more of a growl than a purr, ‘I can fill you up when you’ve finished with those Sidhe.’

I tried – and probably failed – not to look nauseated.

He gestured at me to wait behind the door. I took off my coat, and he smirked at my police outfit then popped his head out front to check that everything was ready. All of a sudden, I felt the tumble of butterflies in my belly overtaking my pangs of hunger. Bob was right: this was a mistake. All I was doing was torturing myself.

I took a step backwards, ready to run away, but the man wasn’t having any of it. When he saw me hesitate, he shoved me onto the main club floor. Shite. I couldn’t change my mind now.

The music, which had been pumping out a loud staccato beat, abruptly faltered. I strode into the centre of the floor as at least forty pairs of eyes turned in my direction. Licking my dry lips, I lifted my chin – and almost had a mini heart attack when I saw that Aifric was here after all. I reasoned that he’d have no reason to suspect that the Illusion ruse from earlier was being carried on here but all the same, I was suddenly more terrified than before.

Forcing myself to play the game, I completed a slow half turn. Byron was looking distinctly ill at ease in a chair in front of me. I cleared my throat. How was this supposed to go?

‘Er… You’re all making too much noise,’ I said.

A chorus of jeers immediately answered me. I scowled and raised my hand. ‘The borough of Perth takes noise pollution very seriously.’

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aifric frown and jerk forward. One of the men from the Cruaich clearing grabbed hold of him and murmured in his ear. He relaxed and settled back, with a leer on his face. Ick.