I just knew he wouldn’t hurt me.
His words were always carefully chosen but he never skirted around an issue purely to make me feel better. He had called me a murderer outright because that was what I was. In the same sentence, he made me feel less alone. He gave me hope because even if I was broken, he was too. I could deal with my pain because I knew he was with me.
The streets were pitch-black but the lights overhead had an odd glow that discoloured everything. It made my hands look pale, like my daemon in so many ways that it made me shiver.
I walked down his street past the terrace houses decorated with ivy and knocked on his door. None of the lights were on but it didn’t bother me.
I knocked again. No answer.
I waited for a second, my arms clasped around my shoulders shivering. I rocked back on my heels, deciding my next course of action. I didn’t want to go home but knocking anymore meant that my cold knuckles would shatter like glass if I banged against the door any harder.
I heard a small metallic creak to my left and I looked down, jumping back. The letter slot opened a small amount.
“Name?” a voice asked casually. I had déjà vu. The voice seemed to take great amusement in my presence. It wasn’t Henry’s voice.
“Um, Sophia…Taylor…” I was reluctant to give the information but I said it none the less.
I heard a chuckle behind the door. “You’re here for Henry Blaire?”
“Yes.” There was a shuffle behind the door and I saw a figure behind the stained glass. I took a step back as he unlocked the deadbolt.
Stood in the doorway was a man with tattoos on both arms. He had short, cropped black hair and a band t-shirt with the words ‘mindless self-indulgence’ across the top of his chest. My eyes raked over his pale white skin, which looked even more unnatural against the black and red of the Japanese flowers and dragons on his arms. My gaze locked onto his pale blue eyes. I took a step back.
“Don’t be alone with him. Don’t allow yourself to be alone with daemons.” A voice trilled in my head.
“I’ll come back later,” I said hesitantly. “It seems that Mr. Blaire is not in.”
The Daemon chuckled and held out his hand for me to shake. I raised mine to chest level to be polite. I was trembling—hard. The man’s pale blue eyes sparkled when they saw my fear, the tiny ripples through my bones as I tried to stay still. I let my hand drop without shaking his.
“My name is William Kain, I’m an old friend of Henry’s. He told me about you,” William cocked his head to one side and smiled widely. “You can come in and wait for him if you like?”
I bit my lip and considered that. Waiting for Henry, yes, I could to that, be alone with an incubus that wasn’t my personal angel—that had me nervous.
“I’d rather wait for him out here if you don’t mind. Do you know when he will be back?” I asked gently, trying to keep the bite out of my voice.
“He’ll be a while. You should come in. You look cold,” his sincerity seemed false, but I could feel my lips turning blue. “He said you were stubborn. But you’d be foolish to stand outside and let pneumonia have its way with you.”
I decided that I would make the issue of why I couldn’t come in very clear.
“I’m not meant to play with other daemons,” I said staring straight into William’s eyes. He blinked, taken aback and his pale blue irises flicked to a darker black beetle colour.
“Ah,” William mouthed. “I promise to be good.”
I scowled and my heart was going a mile a minute. Walk into the lion’s den? Or go home?
I groaned before taking the last step. “Turn on the heating. It’s difficult to get warm when the people in the house have no body heat.”
William nodded silently and shut the door behind me. “So, you know about our proclivities?”
“Shouldn’t I?” I said trying to be confident as I straightened my back.
William shrugged, “So, Sophia, how did you meet Henry?”
I lifted my thumb to my mouth and picked at the nail for a few seconds before answering, it was a nervous habit that I thought I had got out of, but here it was emerging years later.
“You know, through friends of friends,” I said reluctantly. My eyes swept over William’s tattoos. Despite the fact the daemon looked around my age, it made him even more threatening. Henry said that daemons healed from anything. But ink stayed within the skin, that was interesting.
“Right,” William laughed and tilted his head to one side to crack his neck. He looked like he was just out his teens, his cropped black hair wasn’t as messy as Henry’s and his eyes weren’t as wide and angelic. He seemed perfectly normal but it is hard to be casual. I stood in front of daemon royalty—who could kill me with one little touch.
“Sit down. That’s what humans do, right? You like to be comfortable,” William stated and ushered me into the living room like a busy housewife.
“Don’t daemons like to be comfortable?” I asked bitterly.
“Doesn’t matter, we never get tired and we never ache,” William winked.
I shuddered at the innuendo and walked stiffly to the black leather armchair and sat down. William took the sofa. I watched him for a few seconds. William sat as if he hadn’t sat in years. His hands were on his thighs as if he was going to spring up at any moment.
He looked to be surveying me, judging me with a smile and a friendly expression. A scary Elite daemon and member of a royal family. The room was pungent with an atmosphere of fear and tension.
“So, you’re an Elite?” I asked, feeling the need to fill the silence. The silence was so thick it was almost palpable. Painful and cloying.
“Yes,” William smirked, “I am.”
I cleared my throat. “What does that entail?”
“It means I get to wear a cape and make whooshing noises,” he said with an entirely straight face. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch, but I didn’t say anything I just kept staring at him.
“It means that I was bitten by a pureblood…no more, no less,” William shrugged. “The whole royal family bit gets a bit tiring after a while. I’ve known Henry for a few years and he never objects to a bit of company. He’s usually a loner. Doesn’t like…” William crooked an eyebrow at me, “people.”
“I see,” I murmured, looking down to my hands.
“It makes your presence a curious situation,” he continued. I kept looking down.
“He didn’t want to talk about you but your scent is here. You spent last night here and you’re wearing his clothes. I’m surprised. I thought Henry was such a prude,” William smiled cockily. “And he gave you his real name.” He winked.
That made me feel slightly better, that I had been given a real name whereas others hadn’t.
“So how did you and Henry meet?” I asked casually.
“I like tattoos, it was the eighties, I was working in a shop and I saw a sullen bastard sitting on the street corner lying in a cardboard box. Asked him if he needed help, realised he was like me, and the rest is history”
“But a tattoo shop? Wouldn’t that mean you would be around blood…a lot?”
“Smart girl,” William quipped. “Yeah, I gave up that idea after a while but it helped perfect my restraint. Especially when I could smoke on the job as well though it does make me wonder why you humans passed the smoking ban. Nothing drives out the scent of blood like the smell of tobacco…or coffee and alcohol.”
“I know,” I replied quickly before smiling, agreeing with this odd man.
“You’re a skeleton,” William noted. “I like my women beefy.”
My eyebrows shot up my forehead. Generally, people pussy footed around things like body shape—William Kain was not a man that could be described as appropriate.
“Sorry,” he smiled apologetically but it was obvious he didn’t mean it. “I just don’t get it. We see flaws, real horrid things close-up. You have knobbly knees for fuck’s sake. He could have picked someone with breast
s.”
“Thanks, bastard,” I muttered under my breath.
“Nah, you misunderstand. I’m not saying you’re not pretty—and you’re obviously smart but…why risk exposure? The wrath of the purebloods on someone who doesn’t even have massive tits?”
I looked down to Henry’s shirt and pulled out the collar to look at my B cups. They weren’t anything to write home about.
“You’re a fan of big breasts, I take it?” I asked, as I arched my brow.
“Mm,” William nodded with a stupid look on his face.
I snorted in disgust. “Where’s Henry today?” I wondered.
“I don’t have the foggiest. Henry said he had to go out. He could be hunting; he could be drinking or he could be dancing the night away and blaming everything on the boogie…” William drawled.
“Right,” I muttered, turning my attention to the space above William’s head.
“Sorry Ms. Taylor. It’s foolish to keep tabs on daemons, we have such odd temperaments that it would be useless.” I sighed and was glad that the room seemed to be getting warmer.
“He’ll be back soon,” William said, before adding, “hopefully.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, my leg hitched over my knee and bobbed in anticipation. I didn’t take off my bag or my jacket. Mainly because if I wanted to be able to jump up and run at any minute. Though I doubted I would be able to get away from William. I had nervous butterflies in my stomach and something felt very wrong.
“Do you have Henry’s phone number?” I asked hesitantly. William nodded, his expression wasn’t as sanguine as it was two minutes ago, maybe he felt the worry too.
He took out his phone and started to dial, placing it to his ear. I heard it ring twice before he dropped it on the floor and the battery popped off the back and skidded across the carpet. I looked around the room to see that he was gone.
I leapt to my feet and followed as I heard the front door open.
There, stood next to William, was Henry. His eyes were pale ice blue and blood smeared over his mouth right the way down his white shirt. He looked like an angel of death.
William held him up by his shoulders supporting him—it seemed like he couldn’t stand. I flew to his side, my arms extended.
“Shit! Henry! Henry, are you alright?!” I shouted, trying to put my arm out to hold him up. Henry’s eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped to the ground.
Without breath and a beating heart, he seemed just like a corpse. Just like Melanie…covered in blood…
I screamed and fell to the floor. I scrambled on all fours, unable to find purchase before clasping for the waste paper bin and vomiting the contents of my stomach. I held the waste-paper bin closer as the yellow bile slipped over my chin. I couldn’t take my eyes off Henry, I rocked back and forth. He looked dead.
William’s head darted between both of us before he grabbed Henry and looked at his slack mouth and lifeless face.
“What the fuck happened?” William demanded. His face was scrunched in disgust and his eyes raged with anger. I shook my head furiously.
I didn’t know…I didn’t know what was wrong and I didn’t know how to make it better.
11.
William kept calm, but I was a shivering mess in the corner. I held onto my arms as if I would fall apart, bile coated my mouth and I swallowed the constant need to retch again.
Was he dead?
William Kain seemed to answer my thoughts. “He’s a daemon, he can’t die, you fool…” he barked. His face didn’t hold any of the immediate worries that mine did, “but of course, you can’t smell what we can.”
I took a ragged breath, “what does he smell of?”
William sucked a breath through his closed teeth, “heroin, he fed on someone who was tainted. He’ll be himself in a few hours but it appears his body is trying to process the drug since he can’t die, he’s having a petite morté.”
“Petite morté means orgasm,” I snarled.
“Little death. You can’t overdose if you can’t die,” William stated plainly. “Here I thought I was the party animal but sensible old Henry beats me again.”
I looked down to Henry, horror struck. His perfect face, angelic and pure. His tasselled mahogany hair stuck to the side of his face, even in death he was beautiful.
No, beautiful seemed too generic a word for Henry. He was exquisite, timeless… perfection. My lip quivered and my eyes filled with tears. A cobweb of darkened veins covered his face and I retched again, throwing towards the waste paper bin.
“He’s alright? He’s not going to die?” I asked through gritted teeth to keep myself from vomiting. William moved Henry’s hair out of his face callously to show the black on his skin dispersing like ink in water.
“We can’t die,” he assured me.
I held my grip around my knees as I rocked. “Shouldn’t you get him off the floor?” I whispered. I would have tried to pick him up myself but I wasn’t enough of a fool to try and carry a fully-grown man.
William shrugged but I didn’t care. All my attention was on Henry now, rather than the misplaced social respect garnered by a hierarchy based on blood, someone who was royalty only by being bitten by a pureblood—whatever that meant.
William grabbed Henry by the shoulders and they were gone from the hallway. I pushed myself up, swaying from the emotional turmoil and ran into the living room just in time to see the tattooed man place my angel on the leather Chesterfield.
“Why the fuck would he feed on a junkie?” William muttered to himself, slumping into the armchair opposite. He shook his head and reached into his pocket, still seated, and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He tapped the bottom of the box until one rose and placed it to his lips and with a flick of his wrists and it was already lit. I didn’t see the lighter—just another proof of supernatural speed.
“Maylett…” I whispered, staggering over to Henry. I leant down and moved a strand of hair from his face before tracing the perfect line of his rosy pink lips. I brought my fingers to my lips and held them there.
“Excuse me, little tits?” William drawled, taking a drag of his cigarette. I bit back my harsh response and decided that William Kain did not need to know how much I disliked him.
“What is a Maylett?” William asked.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, I was bordering on a potent mixture of dread, pain, and embarrassment. I was certain that William could sense my emotions.
“Maylett…is…” I started reluctantly.
“Dead,” a deep voice came from behind me and caused me to jump. I blinked back tears and saw that Henry’s eyelids had fluttered open. No blackened skin, the only dishevelment was the mass of blood that ran from the bottom of his chin right down to his abdomen.
“He’s dead…?” I croaked. Henry nodded, his pale blue eyes searching for my reaction. I burst out crying and flung my arms around him. He was cold but I didn’t care, he sucked my energy where our skin met but I didn’t care. At that moment, all I felt was unbridled happiness that Henry had kept his promise. One down, one to go.
Henry froze when I leapt at him and threw my arms around him, but after a few seconds and a cautious breath his arms snaked around my waist and he sat up and stroked my hair.
“He’s gone now,” he said. “I did it.”
“You…” I sobbed. “You…blackened…skin…for me…?”
I wasn’t coherent but that didn’t matter. Henry put his hands on my shoulders and held me back for a second. He judged my reaction with a solemn face before sighing and pulling me back into an embrace.
My soul was on fire, right from my hairline to my toes. I felt like I had been doused with scalding water and connected with the icy body of the man in front of me. I could not deny it, I wanted no one else. I knew that I would never connect with another soul, as Henry and I connected.
“I did it for you, Sophia.” Henry murmured, burying his head in my wavy hair. I heard him inhale and felt him steel himself and t
hen take another trembling breath.
“Thank you,” I breathed.
I heard William clear his throat behind us both.
“You told me she was your friend Henry. Why are you groping the human?” the Elite behind us asked with severity. There was silence and no one breathed, not Henry, not me, even though I needed to.
Henry tensed instantly and had to pry his fingers from around my shoulders. He was torn between holding me and keeping me safe—or letting me go, and preceding the risk of bruising or crushing my bones with his anger. Expressions crossed his face in an instant. I looked to William, terror written on my every feature as I hoped that he hadn’t seen those emotions play out. The Elite’s expression remained stoic.
Something told me that I could read Henry better than I had given myself credit for—seeing directly into his soul through his deep blue eyes like gemstones.
“Well, William, as you know, I’m not breaking any rules here,” Henry shrugged but his eyes were hard. “This is Sophia. She is a business associate of mine.”
William Kain snorted, “Are you still playing that game? Killing scum?”
“It’s the only way I can live. I can’t kill innocent people William.”
“Right,” the tattooed daemon laughed, “and the life force of heroin addicts and rapists tastes so much better than virgins and small children.”
“There is no distinction. It is the guilt of taking innocent life that is the most bitter aftertaste,” Henry said with fervour.
“Please! They’re cattle,” William exclaimed. Henry’s grip on my arm tightened minutely. I turned back to Henry and mouthed the word ‘Elite’ to him. He sighed in understanding and pulled me up onto the sofa and withdrew his hands.
“I can’t kill innocent people, William,” Henry stated.
William crossed his arms over his chest. “You have no problem judging people for their crimes and how you deem them innocent. I find it hilarious that you seem to believe you’re God. That you’re the one that gets to judge good and evil—a monster who thinks he has an accurate enough perception to actually judge innocence and evil!” William laughed bitterly. “You will feed regardless when the thirst becomes too much. Just cut out the middle man, come to my way of thinking and join the cattle farm.”
Daemons of London Boxset (Books 1-3) The Bleeders, The Human Herders, The Purebloods Page 12
