“Yes, I trained at the academy.”
“Not at the university?”
“No.” Alice fidgeted, feeling uncomfortable, the subject a sore spot. She had been accepted into the University of London studying magic crafts, something she had been excited about. Dread was the one who convinced her to become a Paladin, to go to the academy instead. It meant her magic knowledge was basic and self-taught.
“Don’t you have to gain a degree to become a recognised witch by the Magika?”
“No.” Yes. Dammit. “I don’t see what point you’re trying to make.” She felt her cheeks begin to burn as she concentrated hard on the lights dancing in the seam of the tarnished brass doors.
10. 9. 8.
The lift finally creaked to a stop, opening to show the marble floor and columns of the lobby, a beautiful mosaic of crushed browns, golds and beiges. The metallic elements glittered as light reflected from the revolving doors, hitting the specs in the stone.
Without pause she exited the lift and quickly walked towards the front desk, having to fish out her pass from her bag and scanning the screen on the turnstile to sign herself out. The front desk was large, almost the same width as the whole atrium apart from a couple of inches each side.
There were four members of security on the desk at all times. Vince Cooker, the head of security was waving enthusiastically. He was a mage, a human touched with magic. While not as powerful as a full-blooded witch he could still do a few tricks, which he enjoyed showing Alice on as many occasions as he could.
“Hey, Vince.”
“Hey there, Alice. I didn’t get to say hi earlier, you seemed to be in a bit of a rush,” the old security guard chuckled, his dark skin wrinkling even further. “Who’s the gentleman by the glass?”
Alice chanced a look behind her, expecting the Alpha to have already left. He surprised her by waiting just outside the doors.
“He is…” Well, she couldn’t just tell him she arrested the guy. “A friend.”
“Well, he isn’t a happy friend.” His smile turned to a frown, his grey eyebrows pulled together in concern.
“He’s just having a bad day,” she said as she signed Mr Wild out too.
She waved goodbye as she felt cold air brush across her skin, summer having long ago disappeared into autumn, the temperature dropping uncomfortably low as the trees continued to lose their colour.
“Mr Wild.” She nodded to the man standing to the side of the entrance. “I’m sure it’s been a pleasure.” He just stared at her, his eyes once again unreadable.
“How do you do that?” she asked, deciding that she had nothing to lose.
“Do what?”
“Control your emotions.” She studied his eyes carefully, noting the flare of shock before he concealed it once again.
How can he conceal his emotions so easily? What did he have to hide?
He stared back, his eyes lingering for a second longer than they should before he turned and walked away.
Chapter 3
The bus screeched as it peeled away from the bus stop a short walk away from her flat, a billow of black smoke chasing it down the street. Alice strode past the ‘Welcome to Midnight Glade’ sign, a wide metal rectangle hanging loosely from a lamppost. Fangs and large eyes had been added to several of the letters, the neighbourhood kids playing around. It would take a trained eye and someone with decent magic knowledge to notice the small symbols carved along the bottom, anti-violence hexes and protection spells created by overly concerned residents.
Midnight Glade North was like every other suburb surrounding London, an incredibly large community with modest houses painted in whites, beiges, blues and even a few gaudy pinks. Picket fences, neatly trimmed shrubs and flowerbeds decorate paved driveways with well taken care of lawns. People walked their dogs, children played happily in the community park and cars parked neatly along the roads.
The area looked the same as any other residential zone, the exception being that seventy percent of the community was Breed. While it was no longer a shock to have kids in school with shifter children, or a work colleague who had an unusual liquid diet, most humans felt uncomfortable in a majority Breed area. It was almost like an age-old instinct not to hang around with someone who could see you as lunch.
Humans (commonly referred to as Norms) wouldn’t notice the small differences in the neighbourhood compared to their ‘ordinary’ ones unless they knew what they were looking for. Children drew with chalk on the streets, their patterns specific to enchantments rather than daisies and hearts. Windows painted black, giving protection from the sunlight or that a front door had an oversized ‘doggy’ door fitted where homeowners who had paws could enter easily.
“Hey, that’s mine!” a little girl shouted, running in front of Alice as she chased after her brother who had stolen her doll, the head that which had already been ripped off and thrown into a neighbours garden. “I’m telling mum!” the little girl cried as her small hands sharpened into claws as her body reacted to her frustration.
Alice continued to walk as she flicked her collar up to protect her exposed cheeks, the air bitter cold. Slowly, the houses started to become less maintained, flats boarded up from fire damage. Flower beds, if at all planted, had died, the bushes left untrimmed and a few houses needing a good paint, if not completely abandoned. Some teenagers lurked at the street corners, sitting on the street signs passing cigarettes between them like a shifty drug deal. Potholes didn’t get filled and cars became less expensive.
The flat Alice shared with her best friend Sam was in one of the less maintained buildings, one that was built in the seventies and hadn’t been updated since. The walls were paper-thin and Alice could already hear an argument from apartment 1C as she made her way up the stairs, quickly followed by banging and shouting. The walls were brown with red squares, although not as garish compared to the putrid green carpet that could have once been a shag pile but had flattened and discoloured over years of use. There was no lift, having been broken years before Alice had moved in.
Her neighbour, Mrs Finch in 3A, explained a few years back that Mr Tucker, the caretaker and resident in 1A refused to fix the ‘damn thing’ because a group of shifters decided to use it as a place to party and the jumping up and down broke the mechanics. Mr Tucker, on the other hand, explained Mrs Finch was ‘talking out of her arse’ and in fact, one of her many dogs had pissed on the exposed wires and ruined the electrics. So Alice took the stairs to the third floor, her place right at the end of the corridor.
“Oh Alice, it's so nice to have caught you,” Mrs Finch called from her open doorway as she held a small black dog that shook in her arms. Alice hid her sigh as she turned around, a fake smile pasted on her face.
“I need you to tell that boy of yours that he shouldn’t tease my babies like that.” Several barks in agreement from behind her as the dog in her arm stayed silent, his eyes bulging.
“What has Sam done now?” Alice asked, bemused. Sam had a love, hate relationship with Mrs Finch. He loved to wind her up, and she hated him for it.
“I’ll have you know that boy prowled outside my door, in his other form.” She made it sound like he did it on purpose. Which admittedly, he did. “It makes my babies upset to know there’s a cat outside.” The small dog in her arm continued to shake.
Alice bit the inside of her cheek, “I’ll ask Sam to refrain from standing outside your door when he’s a leopard.”
With an awkward wave Alice turned hastily towards her door. I can’t be bothered with this crap.
“Now Alice, I’m not finished,” Mrs Finch said, her neck prickling a pale pink in irritation. “I saw another woman sneak away from your apartment the other night. A different one from the last time.” The revulsion was clear.
“What has that got to do with me?” she asked, her temper getting thin as the day started to take its toll on her mood.
“Well, he shouldn’t just bring home every girl he’s just met. It’s unsanitary.�
� She sniffed in disgust.
“I’ll let Sam know you don’t appreciate his partners. Now if you would excuse me.” Alice lifted her fist to knock, only just remembering she still didn’t have her keys. Hoping Sam was in and she didn’t have to ask someone to break it down she knocked hard, the door swinging open easily.
“Sam?” She called as she closed the door behind her. “Sam, what’s wrong with the door?”
“Oh, hey babe girl,” Sam smiled, his white blonde head appearing from the kitchen archway, the area leading off from the living room. “Small technical issue in that someone broke in.”
“What? Again?” Alice groaned as she walked past the bathroom on the left to the surprisingly decent sized kitchen in the back. She dropped her bag on the small table before facing him, her arms crossed. “Isn’t that the second time this month?”
“Aye,” he replied cheerily in a soft Irish lilt, his accent only pronounced on certain words and phrases, having died down from years of living in England. “But I have replaced the lock, and it seems like nothing is missing.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, the same colour as his natural white blonde hair, a long straight curtain that’s cut several inches beneath his shoulders.
“That’s because there’s nothing here to steal.”
Sam had been her best friend since they met as kids in a support group. She had sat in the circle amongst the other children who had gone through their own traumas, scared and lonely. He had tugged on her plaited hair one day and asked her how to braid his own long, unmanageable locks. She couldn’t help but smile at his impish grin with a small dimple in one cheek.
“No comment,” he shouted from the kitchen.
“I don’t know why we stay here.” Alice sat heavily in one of the two foldable chairs she got for ten pounds at one of the cheap furniture chains.
“I’ve already suggested we go stay at your house.”
“It’s not my house.” Alice settled her chin on her palm, watching Sam potter around the kitchen. Her house, or parents’ house, was a boarded up building on the other side of the city. “And you know I can’t.”
“I know.” He softened his voice. “I’m just tired of this place. Did you know Mrs Finch called me a whore today?” He fluttered his eyelashes in mock horror. “I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered.”
“Offended,” Alice smiled. “She told me in the hallway. She also mentioned you should stay away from her dogs.”
“Those wee shits shouldn’t be called dogs. What’s the small black one called? Sooty? Or is it Sunny?” He turned his back to her, stirring a black pot on the stove. Cooking utensils hung neatly on the wall in front of him, some on hooks and others on a magnetic strip. The kitchen tiles were yellow and broken, the spider web of cracks giving the dull wall a sad type of decoration.
“Sooty is the black Chihuahua, Sunny is the ginger Pomeranian.”
“It’s sad that you know their names.”
“I don’t know all of them.” Alice got up to investigate the contents of the pot. “Only the ones I see the most. She usually stops me to show me the pictures of them she keeps in her purse.” The dark brown liquid bubbled angrily, various unidentifiable meats and vegetables floating around. “She has about seven dogs in there now.”
“I don’t even see how that’s allowed.” Reaching up he grabbed two white plates from the cupboard.
“What ya cooking?” Alice asked. “It smells… interesting.”
“I’ll have you know I am a master chef.” He gave her a teasing smile, pouring some brown sludge with various meats onto the plate. He threw the spoon back into the pot, causing the brown liquid to jump out onto the wall.
“Bloody hell Sam, you’ve gotten it all over me.” Alice rubbed the side of her arm, the brown stuff scalding hot.
Sam snorted. “That’s what she said.”
“So funny,” she murmured as she picked up her own plate and followed him to the small two-seater table.
“So…” Sam started, a spoonful of his masterpiece halfway to his lips. “Why the long face?”
Alice scooped a mixture of the rice and sauce onto her fork, her taste buds exploding as she placed it on her tongue. “Hey, this is really good.” She ate another mouthful, moaning as she bit into a particularly juicy piece of chicken. Well, she thought it was chicken.
“Stop stalling. What happened?” His amber eyes rolled over to her, the colour the same as the leopard that was his other half. He thought it made him look badass. She actually agreed, but would never admit that to his face. Shifters were born with two parts, both a human, and an animal. It was his animal, the leopard, that gave him his attitude, its instincts rawer compared to the human. It was unusual amongst shifters to have the same eyes as their counterpart, a result of his harsh childhood.
Alice chewed the chicken for longer than needed. “I fucked up.”
“You what?” He spluttered some of his food. “What did you do?”
“I may, or may not have arrested the Alpha of White Dawn.”
“The Alpha?” Sam burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. “Why did you do that?”
“Well, I didn’t personally go after him or anything. It was a contract. There was a warrant and everything.”
“Was he hot?”
“SAM!” She threw an unused spoon at his head, he ducked and it clattered to the floor.
“Now that wasn’t very nice.” He suppressed a laugh, his lips trembling at the effort.
“My career is over and all you can do is laugh.” She lifted her arms, exasperated.
“You’re being dramatic. What did the dark overlord say?”
Alice smiled at Sam’s nickname for Dread. “He didn’t really say anything.” She looked down at what was left on her plate. “I have a disciplinary meeting with him in a couple of days.”
“See,” Sam said as he added more food to his plate. “If it was that serious the meeting would have been immediate.”
“Maybe.” Alice looked out onto the small ledge the landlord called a balcony. Small terracotta pots stood along the edge, some hanging over the railing with a selection of herbs she used for potions. “What about you? You not at work today?”
“Graveyard shift,” he moaned as he leant against the metal sink, his empty plate soaking.
Alice suppressed a laugh when she noticed his t-shirt, the words ‘I tried to be normal once. Worst two minutes of my life’ written in bold typography across the black cloth. They both shared a humour for quirky tees.
“Why don’t you come with me tonight? Let your hair down, have a few drinks. It could be fun.”
“Not tonight.” No, she had to practise her sorry face. “But I’m definitely up for it soon.”
“You need it.” He finished up at the sink. “I need to get changed, feel free to change your mind and meet me later. The new boss is in town and I want you to meet him.”
Her eyebrows creased. “Meet him? Why?”
“Because you have no social life outside of work. You won’t even go on a date with that Vamp.”
“Hey, I have a social life,” she pouted. “And Danton isn’t serious when he asks me out.” She also wasn’t interested.
“Baby girl, I don’t count as your social life.”
Alice stuck her tongue out at him.
“And besides, he’s also hot,” Sam continued, ignoring her childish reaction.
“You think anybody with a pulse is hot.”
“And that’s why I have an amazing social life.”
“I don’t think you banging hundreds of people counts,” she pointed out. He just laughed as he exited the kitchen towards his bedroom. Alice followed, flopping onto her stomach on his bed, her head balanced in her hands. “What’s your job like?”
Sam twisted as he pulled off his t-shirt, scars crisscrossing his abs and back. Small pale lines barely visible from age, the biggest ones high on his shoulder blades. His golden skin tone an advantage in hiding the worst marks.
“Why are you asking?” He grabbed his work shirt, a black cotton tee with the name ‘Blood Bar’ written in dark red across the back and left pec. “Looking for a career change?”
“Maybe.” She sighed, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. The once white paint had peeled in places, the artex cracked.
“Stop brooding. You love your job.” He threw a sock at her. “You could always become one of those phone sex operators?” Sam’s eyes lit up with excitement.
“You give the worst advice.” She changed into a sitting position as he plaited his long hair. “I need a pay rise.”
“Don’t we all,” he tutted, checking his appearance in the small mirror above his chest of drawers, the top drawer having broken off a few months back leaving a gaping hole. His bedroom, like hers, was small and compact, Sam’s bed a large double with baby blue duvet and pillow, the sheets always messy and never made.
He came to sit beside her, his arms coming around in a hug.
“You screamed last night,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Scared the living shit out of me.”
“Did I?” She could never remember her dreams.
“Do you want to talk about your nightmares, baby girl?”
“No.” She concentrated on her hands, twisting them in her lap.
“They’re getting worse.”
“They always do this close to the anniversary.” She hugged him hard, resulting in him purring against her cheek, the vibration comforting. Releasing him with a final squeeze, she got up. “You know how it goes. I get some nightmares, I brood, and then it’s all over.” Every year.
“We both know that isn’t healthy.” He leant back on his arms.
“And your obsession with sleeping with every living thing is?”
Sam narrowed his eyes.
“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” She was just tired and angry.
“Maybe you should go speak to Dr Lemington again?”
Dr Lemington was their psychiatrist as children. He didn’t help either of them then, so how could he help her now?
Witch's Sorrow: A Witch Detective Urban Fantasy (Alice Skye Series Book 1) Page 3
