A fist blurred, just catching her cheek as the hit resonated through her teeth. She flicked her tongue against the inside of her mouth, making sure all her teeth were still present and standing.
Fucking, ow.
In no time at all Greig hit out again, his fist only just missing as she bent out the way.
Fuck me, he’s fast, she thought, moving so her back was backed against the bar.
She needed him angry.
“Is that all you got?” she sneered.
That did it.
Timing it perfectly she moved out of the way at the last possible moment, Grieg throwing himself headfirst into the solid wood bar, knocking himself out cold.
One down.
Chants came from behind, mostly encouragement for her but some for Metal Face. Much to his annoyance his new nickname seemed to have caught on. Mr Smitt was one of the people not on her side.
Alice knew as soon as the flames died, the air shifting behind her. “I have another joke,” she said as she turned to Metal Face.
He just snarled, fangs flashing.
“What’s a vampire’s favourite sport?” The crowd behind were clapping along, even calling out guesses. “Batminton.”
His hand a blur he grabbed a pool cue and threw it at her, barely missing her head before he jumped forward, fangs bared. The cue stuck into the wall, the end trembling. Her free hand grabbed his neck inches before he could bite her throat. His skin pale, with red blemishes, pimples ready to burst spread chaotically around his young face.
Vampires used to be humans who had had a blood exchange with another vampire, the virus attacking the human DNA and mutating the strands creating an almost immortal. The virus was very temperamental, only certain humans survived the transition. The ones that did lived off of special proteins commonly found in fresh blood. His skin was yet to settle down into its perfection, meaning he was very young in undead terms.
A nail scraped down her neck, warm liquid leaving a trail down her throat. His nostrils flared wildly as her arm blocked his attacks, jaws grinding together as his own fangs cut into his lips, pearls of blood dripping down his chin.
Brown eyes swirled, pupils growing before encompassing the whole eye.
Fuck.
A Vamp attacking was one thing, one in the throes of bloodlust was something entirely different.
Alice held him at arm’s length, a nail scratching down her outstretched arm, clawing to get to her throat. Her arm strained as he started to thrash, his eyes never leaving her pulse as it beat heavily against her neck, his senses all attuned to that one point.
She lifted her sword, impaling it into his chest in one clean move. His mouth opened in shock, the silver penetrating his heart. The crowd gasped, shocked at the sudden turn of events.
Alice twisted the blade, knowing the pain would distract Metal Face enough to think straight, the blade not enough to give him true death. Fairy tales throughout history had gotten that part correct, the only thing that could kill vampires was wood or fire. One thing Hollywood had embellished was that they didn’t turn to dust when stabbed. They rotted and smelt like everyone else, which also meant the older the Vamp the worse the smell. It was a shame their affliction to the sun wasn’t true either, just a little extra sensitive skin.
Real life was forever disappointing.
“Holy shite!” Mr Smitt cried.
“Now we both know this blade alone isn’t enough to kill you.” She looked him in the eye, the pupils shrinking, showing more of his natural brown. “But as you can see, I can manipulate fire.” She waited, allowing it to sink in. “And we both know what will happen if I put fire in the nice hole in your chest.” She let that knowledge bleed into her eyes.
“Enough,” the last Vamp said, his eyes flickering between them as he walked around the table. “We’ll go.”
“Yes. You will.” She smiled sweetly, making him pale even more than his natural skin tone. With a quick move she removed the blade from Metal Face’s chest, holding it loosely at her side. The crowd erupted into applause as all three vampires left, glasses clinking as they cheered and congratulated each other as if they had a great part in it all.
“Shite, shite, shite,” her leprechaun jabbered to himself, fighting against the special cuffs. He looked up at her, eyes wide. “Please, please, I’ve got gold, lots of gold. I’ve…”
Blade sheathed she grabbed him, interrupting his babbling as he tried desperately to fight her hold. Black rucksack in hand she started to leave as Mary the bartender blocked the exit.
“You missy are barred. Look at this mess.” She waved at the dented bar with the cue still sticking out the wall. “Who will pay for this?”
Alice fought a snappy response, instead pushing past with a screaming leprechaun.
She plopped him on the curb, opening the back of her car before throwing him inside. The handcuffs clicked into a special metal plate embedded into the seats, making Mr Smitt unable to escape.
She turned to him as she got in the driving side, making sure he wasn’t trying to damage anything. Snot was smeared across his chubby face, his fists, the size of a three-year-old child’s, were clenched together, trying to pull out of the magic infused cuffs.
“Please,” his muffled voice begged. “Please, I’m sorry, I really am.” He choked like he was going to be sick. She glared at him until he stopped. “Ple… as… se?” he hiccupped.
“Shut up.” She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes to drown out the sobbing.
Blood hell. I’m definitely going to be blamed for this.
Chapter 5
One. Two. Three. Four.
Alice counted the metal beams running along the ceiling of the studio, several halogen lights hanging from each one. A bird sat and watched from beam number three, his beady eyes judging her as she lay on the mat.
How the bloody hell did a bird get in here?
“Alice, get up,” Rose moaned, tapping her foot.
“No.” Alice rolled her head to look up at her friend’s annoyed expression.
“You’re being childish.”
“If I get up, you’ll beat me up again.”
“That’s the point.” Rose reached down to pull Alice to her feet. “You need to stop letting anger control your fighting. You’re making stupid mistakes.”
Alice glared as she adjusted her ponytail, several strands of hair already escaped.
Without warning Rose kicked out, aiming high.
“Shit.” Alice ducked out the way, swinging her own leg around to hit her opponent’s flank.
Rose flashed teeth when the kick connected, spinning her before she regained her balance. “Better.” With a right hook she hit out, feigning the movement while she kicked out with her leg, easily tricking Alice and tripping her back onto the mat. With a small jump she pinned her, Rose’s forearm pressed into the back of her neck. “But not good enough.”
“Fuck,” Alice growled, double tapping the mat. “You tricked me.”
Rose just shrugged. “You weren’t paying attention.”
Alice continue her glare before sighing, her chest pumping up and down as she settled her pulse. “You’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t see your thigh tense.”
“You need to act, not react.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Alice balanced on her knees, tilting her head back to stare at the damn bird. It just chirped quietly, flapping its wings before settling down. Rose sat beside her, offering her the water bottle.
“What happened? You’re normally a much better opponent.”
Alice accepted the bottle. “I don’t know, maybe I’m distracted?”
“About the meeting?”
“No.” She thought about it. “Maybe? I don’t know.”
“I think you should talk to someone.”
Alice stared at her friend, eyes narrowing when Rose wouldn’t keep eye contact. “You need to stop talking to Sam.”
“He’s just worried. He said the nightmares are getting worse.”
“They’re fine. I’m fine.” With an irritated growl she moved to her feet, her eyes focusing as she noticed a punching bag not being used at the side. Fist clenched she smacked it, her frustration pushing it back to whack against the brick wall.
Rose loudly exhaled. “We love you, you know that?” She went to stand next to the bag, holding it in place.
Alice stopped her assault, her knuckles red and sore. “I know.”
“Even after you get fired today and become a stripper that can make slightly above average love charms.” Rose ducked at the towel thrown at her head, laughing.
“Very funny.” She pressed her cheek against the bag, the sand inside not very comfortable. “We both know I would make brilliant love charms.”
Rose tilted her head. “Sure, whatever.” With a towel she wiped the sweat from her face. “So, anybody interesting in your life at the moment?”
Alice groaned. “Oh god, please stop talking to Sam. We both know I don’t.”
“I’m just asking.” She lifted her hands up in defence. “I think a good ol’ rut is just what you need.”
“A good ol’ rut?” Alice laughed. “Is that what it’s called these days?”
“Well, you wouldn’t know.” Rose wiggled her eyebrows. “Seriously, I’m sure it will act as a great tension release.”
“When you find the other half to that particular equation, let me know.” With that she walked towards the locker rooms, moving around the other couples sparring.
The studio was large, several offices converted into the wide, open space. Mats were placed erratically around the floor, each person pulling their own one from the large pile in the corner.
“Oh Alice, I’m glad I bumped into you.” A man walked up to her, his white workout shirt see-through from sweat. “I heard from a little birdie that you’ve been fired,” Michael smirked, his ginger hair tied up in a terrible topknot, giving the impression of a single horn. “I’m hardly surprised, considering.”
“I can see you’re still an arsehole,” Alice muttered beneath her breath before she turned with a grimace. “Nice to see you too, Mickey.” She started to walk around him when he blocked her path.
“It’s Michael.” He sniffed at her, his dark green eyes narrowing. She had no idea why he was an arsehole, but decided years ago that was just his personality.
“Well Mickey, I can see your nipples.” She pointed at his shirt. As he looked down she slipped past him, continuing her way to the locker rooms.
Where did he hear that? Alice asked herself, slowly getting worried. If rumours were already going around the office, maybe it was possible and her job wasn’t safe.
“Hey, wait up.” Rose jogged to catch up, her arm coming round Alice’s shoulders as they walked. “Ignore dick weed. You know you can’t trust anything that comes out his mouth. Only last week he was telling someone how he tagged a bunch of black witches all on his lonesome with his makeshift wand.” Rose patted her on the back before moving away. “We both know he hasn’t got the skills to make a wand, never mind the funds.”
Wands were ridiculously expensive, the small pointy wood able to concentrate a spell a lot easier for the caster, resulting in fewer accidents.
“He even told everyone how he is going to be given a special recognition for it from the Magika!” Rose continued with a snort. “Yeah, maybe recognition for the worst witch in town. He has one of the worst track records in Paladin history.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Alice said, not quite believing it herself.
“Come on blondie.” Rose put her arm around her again. “Let’s get you to your meeting. Don’t want you to piss off Grayson any more than he already is.”
“I’m sure I can manage it.”
Adjusting her neatly pressed collar, Alice stared at the clock on her grey cubicle wall, it was one of those Chinese novelty cats that every minute or so looked in the other direction.
The realisation that something could go very wrong in the meeting was dawning on her. Not once in the last five years working under Dread had she been called into an official disciplinary meeting. Yes, she had had more than one warning over the years, but nothing as official as an actual meeting.
The cat’s eyes moved to the left, its tail swinging beneath it. Swatting the blue ball floating lazily around her head she continued to stare at the cat, the eyes swapping to the right once more.
Stupid bloody thing. She swatted at the blue flame again, giving a better impression of a cat than the actual cat clock. Why do I get a drunken Tinkerbell every time my emotions go to shit? Alice sighed. It’s probably a physical manifestation of my insanity.
The blue flame floated over her face, dancing happily, unaware of her less than kind thoughts.
Eyes closed she breathed in, letting the air out slowly, concentrating carefully to calm her nerves, stopping herself from surrendering to a full-blown panic attack.
Okay. I can do this.
She stood up, tucking her white shirt into her black pencil skirt, the outfit chosen specifically to look professional. She even added a black leather necklace, the one Dread bought for her for her nineteenth birthday.
“You can just walk in,” Barb drawled from her seated position behind her desk, her attention more on manicuring her nails than her actual job. “It’s not like this will take long,” she smiled nastily.
Alice hesitated in front of the door, her fingers grasping the handle.
“Well go in then,” Barb urged. “You look like an idiot just standing there staring.”
Biting her tongue Alice plunged the door open, stepping into the surprisingly light room and closing the latch behind her.
“Alice,” Dread greeted, his face unreadable as he sat at his desk. “Take a seat.” The blind behind him had been raised slightly, allowing a little sunlight into the room.
Alice looked around with curiosity, never before seeing the office in daylight. The room was framed with dark oak bookshelves, each shelf looking like it had been carved straight from the wall, every one full of books. Alice squinted as she tried to recognise some of the titles, most being in an unfamiliar language. Photographs lined the back wall, some of Dread shaking hands with important people such as members of The Council, London’s Mayor as well as few select celebrities.
Looking back at him, she took a seat in the only chair available, the chrome back making her sit as straight as possible.
Dread’s eyes drifted to her necklace, his face softening for a second before hardening once more. Alice waited patiently for him to speak first, her hands sweaty as she rested them on her lap. A million scenarios raced through her head as she stared at him, possibilities of outcomes she didn’t want to happen. Dread’s hand disappeared underneath his desk, something thumping onto the wooden surface a second later.
“A Folder?” Alice felt her whole body turn cold. Dread had pulled out a red manila folder with her name scrawled across the front. It was a thick folder.
“So where shall we start?” Dread flipped over the first page, reading a little before looking up at her. “Ah yes, here we go. December 19th 2011, you turned a Norm into a dwarf.”
Oh, crap.
“I did,” she replied carefully. “He was stealing the presents under the tree in the shopping mall.” The Met thought it was hilarious, a fitting punishment.
“He wasn’t a contract.”
“He was still stealing.” It was only an illusion. She hadn’t actually turned him into a dwarf. “I gave him over to the cops didn’t I?”
“The point is that it wasn’t your job to deal with it. You are not a police officer.”
“But…”
“What about August 2012? You used a sleep potion to capture a black witch.”
“I’m allowed to use charms, amulets and potions.”
“You put to sleep the whole first row of people in that cinema.”
“It may have had a weird area of effect.”
Won’t be buying a cheap potion again.
“September 2013 you almost drowned a kelpie.” He looked up at her from over the folder. “I didn’t even know you could do that.”
Alice began to comment, but he had already continued.
“July 2015 you stabbed a shifter to the point they had to be rushed to the hospital because of silver poisoning.”
“How was I supposed to know he had an above average allergy to silver?”
“That’s not the point I’m making and you know it. November 2015 you captured a vampire by giving him sunburn.”
“He wasn’t in any real danger. He was new, he didn’t realise the sun wouldn’t actually kill him.” Alice tried and failed not to smile at the memory, the vampire in question sobbing when she opened the curtain, not realising he wouldn’t die from a little vitamin D. It wasn’t her fault he was uneducated.
“Alice this isn’t a joke.” The smile dropped from her face. “You recently had a full-blown fight with three vampires, in front of a room full of people.”
“Now that seriously wasn’t my fault.”
“Not according to the owner. She wants compensation for the damage.”
“I never started that fight.” Alice leant forward, pressing her palms face down onto the desk.
“So you didn’t goad them with jokes?” Dread glared at her hands until she removed them, her sweaty fingertips leaving marks.
“Errr.”
Bugger.
“You don’t take your job seriously.”
“Of course I do! I have the highest success rate in the branch than any other Paladin.”
“Highest success rate, but also the highest damage rate.” He slammed the folder closed with an audible slap. “I’m giving you a formal warning. You should be grateful it’s not worse considering there are plenty more examples where these come from.”
Alice pressed her lips together, excuses bubbling up her throat.
“No comment? That’s a first.”
Alice just stared at him, trying not to piss him off any more than she already was.
Leaning back in his chair he stared back, his eyes squinting suspiciously at her. “Now that the unpleasantries are over with there are a few things I would like to discuss.” His cufflinks clunk on the table as he straightened his gold pen. Alice noticed the cufflinks were black, matching the rest of his black suit. The only suit he owned, apparently.
Witch's Sorrow: A Witch Detective Urban Fantasy (Alice Skye Series Book 1) Page 5
