City of Magic: The Complete Series by Helen Harper (book club recommendations TXT) 📕

Deciding it hadn’t entirely finished with its fun, it threw me up in the air again. I spun, my limbs flailing as I sought to regain control. As I reached the apex of my unwilling journey upwards, I threw myself left. There: now I had a perfect view of the Jeep.

Using every atom of energy I had left, I threw it at the vehicle. I couldn’t see whether my ploy had worked – I was already too far on my descent to manage that – but I heard the sound of crunching metal. Hopefully, the Jeep had smashed into the barrier.

When I crashed down into water instead of a stinky mouth, I knew I’d achieved my goal. The monster was going for the Jeep as a far larger and, theoretically, more satisfying snack. It wouldn’t be long before it realised otherwise. I had to move.

I ducked under the water, trying to conceal myself in case it made a snap decision to return for me, then I kicked with all my might. I had to reach the safety of the shore. Failure wasn’t an option. I ignored the mulch and branches and slimy gloop that kept attaching themselves to my body and swam.

Suddenly strong arms were pulling me out. Monroe dragged me to the side, far away from the edge of the bank. He glared down at me furiously.

‘Did he make it?’ I gasped.

‘You fucking idiot.’

I clutched at his arm. ‘Did the man make it, Monroe?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘He’s fine. You, however, almost killed yourself.’

I opened my mouth to answer but, before I could, there was a howl of rage. I tilted my head and spotted the canal monster dropping the Jeep in a crumpled heap onto the bridge. I couldn’t say for sure because I hadn’t met any creatures like this one before, but it seemed to have a look of absolute disgust on its face.

It crashed back down into the canal again, disappearing under the water apart from a single tentacle that remained raised for a brief moment in what I supposed was the slimy monster’s equivalent of giving me the middle finger.

‘You’ve also ruined my car,’ Monroe said, with an unamused sniff.

I got to my feet, shuddering as I picked off what appeared to be a discarded condom. ‘It’s not yours,’ I reminded him. ‘We borrowed it.’

A shape flew towards me. I held up my hands to ward off whatever new threat this was. I was too late.

‘Thank you,’ gasped an unfamiliar male voice, attacking me with a tight hug. ‘Thank you so much.’ The man pulled back, his hands cupping my face. He looked to be in his late fifties, with the sort of friendly features that should be cradling grandchildren, not soaking-wet, blue-haired women like me.

Unfortunately for both of us, his skin was covered in a thin film that might have been river gunk but was probably monster saliva. That meant I was covered in it too. Ugh.

‘You’re amazing,’ he said.

‘It was nothing,’ I managed.

Monroe snorted. ‘Can we please get a move on?’

I ignored him. ‘Do you have somewhere to stay?’ I asked the man. ‘Somewhere safe to go?’

‘Oh yes.’ He nodded enthusiastically. ‘I have a room booked at a Travotel.’

I stared at him. Maybe he’d been living in the canal for the last few days. There was no way any Travotels remained open. Who on earth needed a hotel room? If you didn’t live here, why would you stay?

‘You’re looking at me as if I’m crazy,’ the man said. ‘My house was burnt to the ground when the sky threw fire down on us. A lovely man called Mike Timmons offered me a room for free at his Travotel.’ He tapped the side of his nose.

Monroe rolled his eyes and stalked away, his hands in his pockets.

‘Mr Timmons is the hotel manager, so he can do that sort of thing,’ the man burbled. ‘He’s really lovely. Very kind. Handsome, too. He’s got the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen. They’re pure emerald. It’s extraordinary.’

Monroe froze and slowly turned around. ‘What did you say?’

‘I’m staying at a Travotel.’ He beamed. ‘For free.’

I didn’t manage to react quickly enough. Blame it on almost being drowned. Monroe lunged for the poor man, grabbed him by his sodden lapels and lifted him up into the air threateningly. ‘The manager,’ he growled. ‘Who is the Travotel manager?’

You’d think that being half eaten and half drowned by a gigantic slime monster had been more than enough to terrify the poor man for a lifetime. With Monroe snarling at him with a face suffused with scorching red anger, the man shrank into himself and started shaking.

‘Timmons,’ he gasped. ‘Mike Timmons.’

‘Monroe,’ I said sharply. ‘Let him go!’

‘If this Timmons has got green eyes then—’

‘Then,’ I interrupted, ‘he might have interesting genes. Every person in the world with green eyes can’t be a faery.’

‘What the fuck would you know about it?’

I shrugged. ‘Simple statistics. It’s not possible.’

‘F…f…faery?’ stammered the man. ‘But he’s a guy. He’s normal.’

Monroe vibrated with fury. ‘I doubt that very much. Which Travotel?’

The man swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing around alarmingly fashion. ‘City centre,’ he croaked. Monroe released him, and he dropped to the ground in a heap.

Monroe spun round and sprinted back towards the bridge – and the Jeep. Shit.

‘Sorry,’ I apologised. ‘He’s having a bad week.’

‘Aren’t we all?’

I didn’t have anything sensible to say so I simply patted the monster’s victim on the arm then took off after the insane werewolf.

Chapter Sixteen

‘The fucking Jeep,’ Monroe took aim at it with his foot, ‘is fucking destroyed.’

It did look rather like it had been in a multiple-vehicle pile-up. Or grasped between the jaws of a monster. ‘So we find another vehicle,’ I said calmly. ‘It shouldn’t be hard.’

Monroe set his jaw. ‘You’re right.’ He turned his head, spotting a tiny Fiat packed to the brim with army-approved supplies that was leaving the football stadium and veering right towards