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

the rickety stairs until I reached the walkway that led across the front of the reservoir. Even without the small sea of red rippling in the light winter breeze, the blood would have been unmistakable. The smell was certainly … tangy. From behind me, Monroe let out a small growl.

‘This is exactly like the other two times,’ I told him. ‘I have no idea what’s causing it and I don’t really know how to stop it. I try lots of different things and sooner or later the blood just dissipates.’ I waved a hand. ‘It’s probably the magic in the air that’s affecting the water.’

‘No.’ There was a tautness across Monroe’s jawline. ‘If that were the case, it would happen more often. Or it wouldn’t be fixable. The fact that you’ve managed to clear it up twice before suggests that this isn’t an environmental problem.’ He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. ‘If I’d realised that earlier, I’d have done something about it. I’ve been … distracted.’

Distracted by what exactly? I glanced at him. Certainly grief was the root cause. There was no question that Monroe was still suffering terribly as a result of the loss of his werewolf pack, who’d all been killed by some crazy faeries when Manchester was first plunged into magical hell. But Monroe blamed himself and deep-seated grief, especially when you felt responsible for the deaths in question, could cause a myriad of other problems. I bit my lip and wondered what in hell was really going on with him. Not to mention if there was anything I could do that could help.

‘Well,’ I said briskly, ‘you’re here now. If you have any ideas, other than me waving my arms around for a few hours, they’d be very welcome.’

Monroe frowned and cast his eyes across the surface of the water. His gaze eventually settled on a small patch towards the far left. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Something is there.’

I squinted. I couldn’t see a thing.

‘See?’ he said.

‘Uh…’

‘The ripples on the surface don’t match the direction of the wind.’ There was a note of self-satisfaction in his voice, enhanced no doubt by the fact that I still couldn’t see what he meant. Clearly his eyesight was far better than mine. I had no reason not to trust his judgment, however.

I nodded decisively and swivelled round to walk to the end of the gangway. Monroe grabbed my elbow to hold me back. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Investigating. Solving.’ I flicked him a look. ‘That is why we’re here, after all.’

‘It could be dangerous.’

I laughed briefly. Everything about this new Manchester was dangerous; that was what made it such dubious fun. ‘Then,’ I said, ‘you stay back here where it’s safe and I’ll check it out.’ I yanked back my arm.

‘That’s not what I meant, Charlotte, and you know it. Have you forgotten what happened with the Canal Monster?’

I could hardly forget. It had grabbed hold of me out by Old Trafford and I’d come close to drowning and being eaten at the same time. We all avoided that area now if we could help it, but there continued to be reports of its presence lurking up and down the old ship canal. Fortunately no one had died in its saliva-laden jaws. Alas, I suspected that was probably only a matter of time.

‘I remember,’ I told him. ‘But I escaped unscathed. I’m sure this will be exactly the same.’ I flashed him a brilliant smile and took off once more.

Monroe huffed under his breath. Then he followed.

It wasn’t easy getting close. Although the steel walkway allowed us access to the top of the reservoir, it didn’t stretch all the way round the sides so we were forced to slip, slide and squelch across a narrow section of mossy mud. Even Monroe wasn’t as sure-footed as normal. At one point his foot gave away and he crashed into me, his arms going round my waist as he tried to steady himself. I dug in my heels to avoid us both tipping into the reservoir of dark blood – but it was a close thing.

‘Thanks,’ he muttered.

‘Any time you need rescuing, I’m right here,’ I chirped.

I thought he was going to snipe something sarcastic at me but instead his head dipped down to my ear. ‘I appreciate that, sunshine,’ he murmured. His arms tightened fractionally around my waist before he let go.

I coughed and kept my face resolutely turned forward so he couldn’t see the sudden stain of embarrassment on my cheeks. Except I wasn’t sure it was embarrassment; it might have been pure lust. Either way, it certainly appeared that the masculine arrogance that Monroe had displayed the first time we met had vanished for good. That warmed me no end.

‘All the same,’ he continued, ‘you should let me take things from here. You’ve tried twice and failed. I’ll deal with this problem once and for all. Sometimes it takes an alpha werewolf to save the world.’

Oh for goodness’ sake. I rolled my eyes but, rather than argue, I gestured at the blood. ‘Go on then, maestro,’ I said. ‘Have at it.’

Monroe smiled, ignoring my sarcasm, and cast around the ground before reaching for a long branch that was snaking its way across the verge behind us. He gave it a tug but it resolutely refused to budge.

‘Want some help there, genius?’ I enquired.

He grunted and yanked harder on the branch but it stayed rooted to the ground. ‘Go ahead.’ He spoke as if he were merely giving me something to do so that I didn’t feel entirely useless. All the same, when he straightened up and glanced at me, there was a glint of self-mockery in his eyes.

I grinned at him. I didn’t understand much about my newly fledged magical capabilities but retrieving stubborn objects was something I’d become an expert at in recent weeks. It simply took the right amount of force – not too much so that the object in question went flying out of reach