“What?” I whispered.
“Jonathon Maylett was found yesterday, he committed suicide by jumping off the top of his block of flats.”
“How many stories?” I asked, superficially wondering how Henry had managed to swing that.
“Fifteen.”
“Fuck,” I drew out each syllable.
“Every bone in his body was broken. Whacked off his face on Heroin. Fresh track marks.” Milligan explained.
I nodded quickly but hearing about Maylett’s death didn’t give me the sick pleasure I thought it would. I felt dirty and nauseous.
“They found him this morning. He jumped—no sign of a struggle. I just thought I would inform you because he was your sister’s friend.”
I didn’t want to correct him. “Thank you, Detective. I know it isn’t in your job description, but thank you for informing me,” I croaked.
“There is another reason for my visit today.”
I refused eye contact and looked at my feet, “hm?”
Milligan shifted his weight to his other foot and stood still for a second before clearing his throat nervously.
“It’s just that there have been a few incidents in the area recently.” Milligan cleared his throat again. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you now, Ms. Taylor, especially after what happened to Melanie. So, I just wanted to warn you to try not to be alone after dark.”
I smiled weakly. “I’ll try,” I conceded.
Milligan stood there immobile for a few seconds, his steely eyes fixed on mine. I felt heat crawl up my neck and my cheeks. I hoped he didn’t take my embarrassment for a sign of weakness or guilt.
He reached out to shake my hand before he left. I didn’t take it. I didn’t want him to feel my clammy skin. I didn’t want to touch him—I didn’t want Henry to know that I had spoken to another man, especially a police officer. Even if it was an innocent conversation.
“I’ll see you around, Detective,” I assured him. He smiled and shut the door behind him on his way out.
When I was alone I drew a chair from underneath one of the tables and slumped down, taking large gulps of air. The police knew that Maylett was dead. Detective Milligan had obviously not forgotten my tie with him, or with Parr. Would they tie me to their deaths?
In some odd way, I hoped that Parr would stay in Paris for a while longer. One murder already felt like too much to deal with. I needed time to deal with being responsible for Maylett’s death but on the other hand, I wanted that fucker Parr dead, pictures of his corpse and all.
I looked over to the bar, the tequila called to me. Instead of giving in, I banged my head on the hardwood table, groaning to myself with my cheeks flushed in embarrassment.
After work, I stood on the ledge outside with a cigarette dangling from my mouth. Gina talked to one of the male cleaners whom she had had her wandering eye on for quite some time. Although Gina was married, the good looking cleaner wasn’t. Apparently, Gina’s marriage wasn’t a problem in her eyes. I noticed her lick her lips as she told him that no one else could buff a floor as he could. I rolled my eyes and pulled my phone out of my pocket.
I dialled my mother’s mobile number slowly and pressed call before I chickened out. I didn’t want to talk to her but I wanted to know if I could go home.
“Hello?” her sweet voice answered.
“Hi mother,” I heard people talking in the background, it sounded as if she was in a bar.
“Sophia!” she slurred. “Oh Gordon, it’s Sophia. She finally called me after her overreaction!”
I resisted the urge to shout. Count to ten Fia…count to ten before you say anything…
“Mother, are you still in London?”
“No, I left this morning.”
I notably didn’t ask where she was, but she gave me that answer anyway.
“We heading up to the south of France for Christmas as it’s only three weeks away. I thought that you might like to join us?” my mother sounded unusually cheery. “Unless you want me and Gordon to come back to yours.”
“No. Have fun,” I hung up before she could say anything else. A devilishly broad smile spread across my face.
Gina whirled around, her eyes widened before my smile became contagious and spread across her face as well. “Good mood?” she noted.
“My fucker of a mother just left.” Gina raised one eyebrow in confusion, the smile still on her face as she waited for an answer.
“I can finally go home.” I elaborated. She just smiled and laughed under her breath, muttering something about ‘wishing she was young.’
Gina turned to walk through the gate after locking the back door and entering the alarm code into the small keypad. When she turned around to speak to me, she stopped and her mouth gaped at something over my shoulder. She looked like something out of a pantomime.
“Well, well, who might this be?” Gina asked in an innocent voice. I looked over my shoulder and jumped out of my skin.
“Shit, Henry! Don’t do that!” I screamed. He smirked, his wide lapis lazuli eyes were a picture of innocence.
“Hello,” Henry said politely.
Gina’s eye raked over him as if he was a piece of meat but Henry shuffled uncomfortably.
“My name is Henry. I’m Sophia’s friend.”
Gina smirked at me and held out her hand for him to shake. He sighed, minutely, as if it were a chore but he took her hand gently and shook it once before snaking his arm around my shoulders.
“See you next week, Sophia,” Gina called after us as we both turned to leave.
We walked to the end of the alleyway and when we were out of earshot, I turned to Henry. He stared at his hands with furrowed brows.
“So what did you get from the handshake?” I asked with a smirk as I poked Henry in the ribs.
“Not much, but I’m glad you have someone that cares for you deeply,” Henry murmured.
“Are you sure that loving you felt wasn’t directed at you?”
“No, different flavour,” he frowned.
The winter chill ripped through me as always, but Henry moved in front of me to protect me from the harsh wind. When I looked up and smiled at him, his face broke into an unbridled grin.
I reached up and slowly traced behind his ear with my finger. I curled a lock of his hair as he closed his eyes and leaned in closer.
“I wonder what I would feel if I could feel emotions through skin.” I wondered.
Henry’s brow furrowed; his eyes soft and sad. “You’d feel complexity and be overthrown by a fair amount of confusion. Lust and…endearment,” he said plainly, his tongue rolled the words off like music.
“What do you feel when I touch you?” I asked as I stroked the skin down the middle of his throat. He closed his eyes and his lips pulled into a sleepy smile.
“I have never felt such complex emotions from a human. You’re a pleasure to touch.”
My face flooded with heat,
“I didn’t mean that…” Henry stuttered.
I smiled slyly, “of course you didn’t.”
“Well, I did…” he shifted his weight nervously and opened his mouth to talk. I reached forward and put my finger on his lips. His back shot up ramrod straight and his eyes hooded, he’d stopped breathing and I wondered if I had pushed the daemon too far.
God, if I didn’t have standards I would have fucked him in the streets.
“We should go out. A date.” I changed the subject.
Henry took a deep breath and smiled, “I wholeheartedly agree, although I do have to keep William out of trouble.”
“Do you want to bring an Elite daemon on a date with you?” I laughed.
“The company of a five-hundred-year-old Elite who likes to tease me over the fact I need to find a mate with big breasts. That certainly will be the highlight of my immortality.”
I snorted. “Mate? Like…animal mate?”
“Daemons mate for life, two souls, one whole. That kind of thing.”
“Ho
w sad,” I sighed.
Henry’s eyebrows knitted together. “How so?”
We wandered as our conversation persisted. “If you mate for life, what do you do when your mate dies? How do you even know if you have found your mate?” I said in a small voice.
“You are worried that I will die?” His jaw was clenched.
“I know you won’t die, Henry,” I whispered.
Henry relaxed, “That is the thing…I can’t die. Even if I did die, which is next to impossible, this is the first time in over seventy years I have felt like I have impacted someone, that if I died it would matter,” he said slowly.
“I think about you every minute,” I laughed bitterly. “I can’t not think about you; you dominate my every thought.”
He said nothing, but he took my hand. I felt the spark and all the blood rushed to my ears but I didn’t care. Butterflies rose in my stomach, my chests flushed and my chest heaved.
I turned away from him to take a deep cleansing breath. Henry let go as quickly as we had connected. He didn’t verbalize any over-used sentiments and for that I was grateful.
“Sophia?” Henry said, hesitantly. I had started walking and turned back to him, the wind pulling its claw-like fingers through my hair.
“Yes?”
“You don’t need bigger breasts,” Henry informed me.
I looked down to my boobs and laughed hysterically. “I would never believe a word that William Kain said anyway.”
12.
I took the designer dress from my satchel and hung it on the back of the door to admire. It was short with a plunging neckline but long lace sleeves to cover my self-harm scars. The newer scars, the harsh red lines, had faded to flawless and unblemished skin when I had tasted Henry’s blood. The older white lines remained, I rubbed them subconsciously and began to get ready.
I hadn’t worn makeup in over a year but I chose smoky eyes and red lips. Red high heels and with my new designer dress, I felt fairly confident about seeing Henry. It had never bothered me that I never wore makeup and lived in jeans but I wanted to see what Henry and I would look like together, dressed to the nines.
I checked the time on my phone as my hand flattened against my stomach. I was so nervous that my stomach bubbled. A nervous giggle escaped my throat. I pulled the mini dress over my head and heard the doorbell ring. I rushed downstairs in bare feet, not willing to chance the high heels just yet.
I opened the door and when I saw Henry, I couldn’t help but inhale sharply. He wore a well-tailored suit and a red tie, our outfits complimented each other nicely. He leant against my threshold with a lazy smile playing on his lips.
His gaze roamed over my body, starting at my bare feet and working its way slowly up my legs. When his eyes rested on mine, they flared from their human deep blue to icy pale Celestine.
I didn’t know what possessed me, but I reached forward and wound my hands around his neck. As if a dam had broken, his mouth claimed mine feverishly. Our hands explored each other’s bodies and my front door slammed shut behind us. I pulled his suit jacket off and threw it onto my armchair in the corner. Our lips fought for dominance, I caught a glance at our reflections in the mirror on the wall. My red lipstick had sinfully smeared. I pulled back for a second, my chest heaving. Henry’s mouth was marred with red but he didn’t seem to care. He leant forward and placed fluttering kisses from the side of my neck, slowly trailing to my breasts.
My nipples peaked and I fisted his hair, drawing his mouth back to mine. His hands skimmed my thighs and I felt the rush of adrenaline pulse through me, my teeth began to chatter. Wetness pooled between my thighs, my mind swirled with a heady mixture of arousal and fear. I could feel my body on the knife’s edge between sex and unconscious. Henry was draining me.
His fingers gripped my bottom and pushed up my short skirt. He broke away to look at me for a second.
“I want you to bite me.” He growled.
I reached forward and pulled his lips to mine, moaning lowly. I placed a kiss on the edge of his mouth and followed the path to his neck. Without further prompting, I bit down as hard as possible. Human teeth were not designed to break skin easily. I felt the resistance immediately, but Henry sighed in pleasure and ground against me. His straining erection rubbed against the wet fabric of my underwear.
Like a balloon popping, my canine forged a cut on Henry’s jugular and a trickle of cool, tangy blood rushed over my tongue. I sucked, pulling his body closer to mine. Instead of feeling high from Henry’s touch, I felt powerful. I gripped Henry’s shoulders tightly and my mouth found his lips again.
His fingers slid up my inner thighs and left tingles in their wake. My back arched and I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted him so badly. I reached forward, my unsteady hands found his crotch and I fumbled to unbutton his trousers. Henry put his hand over mine to stop me and I looked up in question. He smirked in response and knelt before me. The sight of him on his knees in front of me made throb.
He began to kiss the skin of my thighs, leading closer to the apex, teasing me. I leant back, my chest heaved and my hands grabbed at the fabric of the futon.
He gripped my bottom and pulled me to the edge of the bed. I closed my eyes as I felt his cool breath on the wet fabric of my lace underwear. I groaned and reached down to put my fingers through Henry’s hair, to make sure he was real. His tongue traced my body through my knickers and my arousal begin to coil like a spring.
His fingers teased the outside of the heat and plunged inside of me. He pushed my underwear to one side and claimed me with his mouth. His movements began as slow and delicate but as my orgasm became more tightly wound and the building pressure in my centre reached a crescendo, he gained momentum.
My orgasm rushed over my body like a wave and I trembled. I had never allowed someone to see me, taste me in such a vulnerable way. My fingers reached up to my mouth and came away red from Henry’s blood. He sat up and placed a chaste kiss on my lips. I could taste myself and arousal flared again.
As I was just about to lose all restraint and beg for Henry to lose himself inside of me. He looked at me with such longing that my heart broke and soared at the same time.
“We should go.” Henry murmured. “William is waiting for us.”
We took a taxi to Marble Arch and I stayed silent the whole way, stealing glances at Henry as we pulled to the side of the road and hopped out. It was early evening but still dark. The Oxford Street Christmas lights, which has been on since October, twinkled in red and white. Henry took my hand; with the effects of his blood I did not feel my energy waver. Our fingers twined and I held out as if I might lose him if I let go.
We dodged the tourists and I wondered where we were going but did not ask. Oxford Street was a notoriously tough place to manoeuver through in the early evenings during the lead up to Christmas. By the steps to the underground, it was not uncommon for the entire street to be flooded with people like cattle marched slowly forward.
We walked towards Edgeware Road. I kept an eye out for any restaurants that would suit Henry’s style but found nothing. Just Starbucks and noodle bars. When we reached a junction on the pavement, Henry stopped and looked down briefly to a circular plaque on the concrete.
The site of the Tyburn Tree
“This was place is more commonly known as the King’s Gallows,” Henry said, sensing my confusion. He motioned for us move out of the way of other pedestrians and I hovered next to the railings by the main road.
“This is a strange place to take someone on a date,” I smiled.
“Well, I thought that I would explain first so that when we enter you aren’t confused.” Henry’s eyes flickered over to the cracked circular slab in the centre of the pavement junction. It had a cross in the middle and for some reason, gave me shivers just being near it.
“Think of our plane as a sheet of silk. Silk bunches and folds. When there is a fold, two dimensions, or planes, meet. This is one of those places. The mass death from the hangings perfo
rmed over the centuries here has caused this fold.”
“What’s in the fold?” I wondered.
“You’ll see. Unfortunately, only daemons and those that have been marked by them can travel through the plans.”
“I have been marked by a daemon?” I asked.
“Yes.” Henry said nothing more and took my hand and clasped my fingers. “Come.” We walked over the plaque, no one on the street paid us any mind, but London winked out of existence and was replaced by a red, dark nightclub with thumping music and the smell of sex and death.
“This is ‘The Fold’” He said.
“Unique name,” I whispered, my eyes adjusted to the darkness and flickered over the other patrons. Everyone in this place was a daemon or had been marked by one.
Two women, who looked like twins, writhed in what seemed like a glass tube. Every time their hands met and entwined, blue sparks ricocheted off of the glass. They seemed to pay no mind to the display of power as they twirled and groped each other.
A man walked past, with high cheekbones and almond eyes. My eyes widened when I took in the bushy tail poking out of the back of his trousers. A fox’s brush.
“Is that a…” I asked, peering over Henry’s shoulder.
“That is Takashi. He is a Kitsune.” Henry’s brow arched and the corner of his mouth lifted into the hint of a smile. “A nine tailed fox.”
I nodded as if I understand, as I focused on the tail swaying behind the good looking Japanese man, he turned around and winked. With a swish, the one tail became nine, all of them writhing and extended in unsung power. I felt the pressure in the room increase and my breathing stopped.
“Why did you bring me here?” I whispered, somewhat certain that every person in this club could hear me.
“To show you the other side of London.” He smiled sadly. Henry took my hand and turned over my wrist, on the place where my hand met the inside of my arm there was a black mark that looked like a butterfly.
“This is the Sigil of the Blaire Daemons.” He said, before lowering his head and kissing the tattoo. It rose up, the ink with a life of its own, to meet his lips. “This is why I hate butterflies.”
Daemons of London Boxset (Books 1-3) The Bleeders, The Human Herders, The Purebloods Page 14
