Blood and Feathers (15 page)

The twins made themselves scarce. They seemed uneasy around Gwyn – not surprising, given the hushed arguments he and Vin kept having in corners, all in that language they spoke whenever they didn’t want anyone human to understand them.

“It’s the language of the Descendeds,” Jester had whispered, when he found her eavesdropping at a door. “It’s, like, some weird angel-speak. Obviously the Earthbounds speak it too, because... you know. But they say that if you Fall, the knowledge is burned out of your mind. Ouch.”

He shivered comically, but Alice suspected it was true. Gwyn’s little lecture about Mallory had been pretty graphic, and he didn’t exactly strike her as being prone to theatrics. And that was how the next few days went: with Gwyn coming and going, Vin largely watching old horror movies and Jester and Florence doing whatever it was they did. Alice felt awkward being the reason for the invasion of the twins’ home, but if either of them were unhappy about it, they did a good job of hiding it. Besides, she liked them. It was good to spend time in the company of other
people
. Fond as she’d become of Vin in a short time, he was different, somehow
other
. The same was true of Mallory. She still didn’t know how she felt about Gwyn, but at least she felt she was beginning to understand him, which was a definite improvement. It didn’t make him any less abrasive (or irritating) but it made him easier to forgive. And at the back of her mind, too, there was still the memory of him striding towards Batarel... Although she was reluctant to admit it, he frightened her.

There was nothing frightening about Mallory, other than how long he had been gone with no word. Everyone assured her he would show up eventually, but that hadn’t stopped her from worrying, and she continued to worry until he marched through the door and draped himself across the furniture as though he had only been away for a few minutes. “What did you degenerates do to my house? It’s trashed, and it smells of... You know what? I don’t even want to think about what it smells of.” Mallory was clearly furious.

“I’m afraid it looked like that when we got there. I assumed that was how you’d left it.” Gwyn barely even looked up from the book he was reading.

“The Fallen?”

“What do you think?”

“Bastards.”

Mallory rolled his leather jacket into a ball and tossed it, and his gun, on the coffee table, as he slumped back into the sofa, and ignoring Florence’s indignant shout about wearing shoes indoors.

Alice was so relieved to see him that it was all she could do not to hug him, but something stopped her. He looked pale and drawn; there were dark circles under his eyes, and although his smile was as open as ever, it was hiding something. She didn’t need to guess it. She could feel it – an ache somewhere in the middle of her chest that surged over her in a wave as soon as he stepped into the room. But he hurled himself down next to her, kicking off his boots when Florence howled at him, and smiled. “How you doing? Still alive, then?”

There were so many questions: where had he been, what had he been doing... why had he left her? But he wasn’t going to explain any of it. And it didn’t really matter. All she wanted was to feel safe, to feel normal for a while; now, with Mallory back, she did. For the time being, anyway.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Fire & Water

“T
HAT IS THE
most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.
Ever
.”

“Whatever.” Jester shook his head.

Alice knew she’d made a mistake the second the words were out of her mouth. “I’d love to,” she’d said. Bad idea. But she hadn’t known any better. Vin might have warned her about Florence’s cooking, but no-one had seen fit to wise her up to the twins’ shopping habits. She was tired of being cooped up in the flat, tired of staring out of the windows, tired of pacing the hallways. Tired, and stir-crazy. And so were the twins. It was becoming increasingly apparent that they had imagined this would be some kind of elaborate sleepover... and as time passed, and it dawned on them that their role lay somewhere between prison guard and glorified babysitter, their mood changed, and the flat became even more claustrophobic.

So when they asked Alice if she wanted to run into town with them, despite all the angels’ warnings about the Fallen (and an argument with Mallory which Florence appeared to have won by threatening to
cry
), she had been ridiculously glad of the change of scene. It hadn’t occurred to her that it might turn into the longest afternoon of her life. After three hours with Florence trying on every
single
item of clothing in one shop, Alice was wondering whether this wasn’t, in fact, hell. Now the pair of them were arguing over who had used the last of the milk, just like they had been for the last twenty minutes.

Alice slumped further back on the bench and stared at her feet. Twenty minutes and they were still going strong. How was it possible to argue about something – anything – for that long? She’d never entirely understood the inner workings of sibling relationships, not having any herself, but if these two were anything to go by it was just as well. Imagine what life would be like if you set fire to your house every time you had a fight with your sister...

Slowly, she tuned them out, their voices fading into the background. The street was busy, despite the cold wind and the threat of rain. People were hurrying here and there, scurrying about with bags in their hands and harried expressions on their faces. No-one looked like they were having fun. It was comforting: Alice wasn’t having fun either. Quite apart from Jester and Florence, the warning Mallory had given her before she left still rang round her head. “Be careful, Alice. The Fallen will be everywhere. And you don’t know them like we do. You won’t see them coming.”

“So, what happened to the ‘Wherever you go, I go,’ Mallory from the other day?”

“Believe me, if I could go with you, I would. But there’s somewhere I have to be,” he tipped his head towards Gwyn. “Vhnori too. It’s important.”

“And you’re letting me out?”

“Reluctantly. But Florence has pointed out somewhat
forcefully
that you can’t spend your life cooped up in here, and she’s right. Hiding doesn’t seem to be doing us much good. Besides” – he smiled – “from what I hear, you took care of yourself pretty well.”

“Mallory, about that...”

“Not now. We’ll talk, later. I promise.” He lifted his arm, and for a second she thought he was going to ruffle her hair, but he stopped, and his hand dropped back to his side. “Be careful. They will be out there. Trust your instincts. If something feels wrong, it
is
wrong.”

“What about the twins?”

“They know what to do. If anything happens, they’ll take care of you until help arrives.”

“You mean until you arrive, right?”

“Something like that.” He glanced down at his feet. “I have to go, Alice. Stay safe. I’ll see you later.”

Which left Alice sitting on a bench with the wind biting into her bones, trying not to hear the twins.

A
N ITCH IN
her palm made her scrunch her hand tightly into her pocket as she scanned the crowded street. This suddenly didn’t seem like such a good idea. For some reason, she had assumed that she would be safe amongst people. Her control of her gift was – so far – non-existent, and while the empath in her had only connected enough with Mallory and Vin to trigger it, she had thought that a street full of strangers shouldn’t pose a problem. But she had underestimated the force of the crowd: stubbed toes, broken bones, trapped fingers; headaches, backaches, bellyaches... multiplied a thousand-fold and bearing down on her like a truck. The tiniest of needles jabbed at her fingers; pins danced in her palms.

The world was full of pain, and now she knew it.

She bunched her fists into her coat and stood up. Neither Jester nor Florence noticed, so busy were they bickering. The subject was obviously irrelevant, so long as they had something to fight about. Without knowing quite why, Alice took a step away from the bench, and before she knew it, she was walking away, fast. It felt... right. She knew she should stop, but something was tugging at her, pulling at her feet and asking her to follow. So she did.

She crossed the street, turned down another road and walked. She walked through the doors of a department store, she walked through the perfume hall and down the stairs, down more stairs and more; moving in a daze, she followed her feet until there were no more steps to take and the stairwell ended in a heavy door.

She was on the lowest level of the department store’s car park. There were a handful of cars around her, but with no lift and a long, concrete climb up to the shopping levels, most drivers opted to sit out the wait for spaces above. Yellow security tape flapped around the edge of a large puddle, the water dripping into it from a split pipe above making a high-pitched
plink
as each drop fell.

For the first time that afternoon, Alice relaxed. Her hands felt normal; not the slightest prickle or sting. She flexed her fingers and sighed. Maybe she should try and get some alone time. It was only now, after hours of fearing her hands would give her away – that the fire would spring from nowhere, burning everything it touched but her – that the tension drained from her body. Everything she felt now was her own, the pain her own.

Somewhere, a door swung closed; the
bang
echoed through the car park. At that moment, Alice thought, she was alone.
Totally
alone. She had walked away from the twins and they hadn’t see her go. The Earthbounds and Gwyn were somewhere else; they didn’t even know where she was. She was
alone
. And if she was alone, she was defenceless.

Another door banged – or perhaps it was the same one – the sound bouncing off the hard floor and walls. She was defenceless, and she was exposed. Panic bolted her feet to the floor, and she suddenly wondered whether it
was
all hers. She knew it would be sensible to move – that it was important to move, not just to stand there like a fool – but somehow, she couldn’t find a way to do it. There were footsteps. Where they were coming from, she couldn’t say. They seemed to be everywhere, and whether there were five or fifty people suddenly in there with her... she shut her eyes. It was the only thing she could do.

“I thought you’d be taller. I’m a little disappointed.” The voice was right in her ear. “And I thought they’d keep better track of you. This won’t do Mallory any favours, will it? To lose you so soon, before you’ve even had the chance to prove yourself; it’s really too bad. Oh, well.”

Alice flinched as she felt breath on her cheek.

She opened her eyes.

He was almost nose to nose with her. The first thing she saw were his eyes – they were so close that they filled her world. They were blue, so very blue that she found herself thinking of Gwyn, and then she remembered that, yes, the Fallen were angels once. She was toe to toe with a Fallen, and she was alone, and she was afraid. He smiled at her and his smile split his face. It was wider than it should rightly be, and he had slightly too many teeth.

“Poor little lamb, straying from the herd,” he said, turning away from her. One side of his face was scarred, old burns running from the tip of his ear to his jaw. “There’s no-one here to help you now. Of course, how could you not come? Not when you’re an empath. Not when we’ve got something that calls to you.”

He clicked his fingers, and the door of a car swung open. A heap of stained clothing tumbled out, and it took Alice a moment to understand what she was seeing. It was a body. There was a scuffling sound and a small head of sandy-coloured hair appeared. A child, gagged and bound. A little boy. He was crying, choking on the cloth over his mouth.

Alice swallowed a whimper. She was supposed to be afraid, she knew that. It was what the Fallen wanted. He smiled at her.

“You can feel
that
, can’t you, Alice? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

He waved, and from somewhere in the shadows another of the Fallen appeared, stopping to haul the child from the car. He dragged the boy, none too gently, across the oily concrete to the edge of the puddle. The little boy’s eyes were fixed on her, fear radiating from them, blotting out everything else. The other Fallen swatted the yellow tape away and walked to the edge of the water, hoisting the child over his shoulder as though he weighed nothing. He stepped forward and into the puddle, which swallowed both of them, closing over their heads as though they had never been.