Daemons of London Boxset (Books 1-3) The Bleeders, The Human Herders, The Purebloods

by Michaela Haze

  I felt the familiar coil of my orgasm curl from my belly to my toes, and I pulled Henry closer, deeper, harder. I couldn’t stifle my cries as pleasure wracked through my body, taking every ounce of rational, coherent thought with it.

  I said his name, a breathless plea, as I came hard. Henry thrust inside of me; deeper than before as he met my own orgasm by filling every inch of me with himself. We held each other, hard enough to leave bruises; in case the other one would disappear.

  It had been years since we had last touched but our connection was the same. All encompassing. We had been apart for too long and now that we were together again, I would kill anyone that got in my way.

  2.

  Dr Mavis wore a tight pencil skirt, which rode up her thigh when she crossed her legs. We sat in her office, as I attended my weekly appointment with her as my primary psychiatrist. Her pen rested between her lips for a second, and I could see that she had trouble broaching whatever she wanted to talk about.

  “I’m taking my meds,” I said proudly, and I leant back in the sable leather armchair.

  She returned my smile and held eye contact. “That’s brilliant. Progress.” Dr Mavis acknowledged.

  I scanned the bookcase on the far end of the room. Her space was tastefully decorated, white with fake Ikea pot plants.

  “Do you mind?” I stood up and nodded towards the expanse of books.

  “Not at all.” She smiled demurely. That woman was the epitome of patience.

  I swayed to my feet and made my way across the room; I dragged my finger down the spine of a medical journal. Dr Mavis cleared her throat, but I didn’t pay attention as I perused the selection. Therapy was monotonous so I searched for something of interest.

  “I wanted to talk to you about another matter,” Dr Mavis said.

  “Yes?” I didn’t look up from my search.

  “Relationships. Sex. Between inpatients.” She clarified.

  My heart began to race, and I felt the tell-tale blush curl up my throat and over my cheeks. I did not acknowledge it but kept my expression cool.

  A flash of panic knitted my stomach together. Had there been cameras? What had she seen in the showers? I wondered.

  “I am concerned that you and Dr Kanning are becoming closer.” She nodded to herself. “It would be concerning if two patients were to become... Intimate.” She cleared her throat. Damn, she must have needed a glass of water badly. “Two people who have been sectioned, and diagnosed with mental health issues, cannot properly consent to a relationship.”

  “Don’t worry doctor.” I breathed in deeply. “I won’t take advantage of Henry.”

  “I think that you need to continue with your medication regiment before you can spend any unsupervised time with Dr Kanning.” Dr Mavis made a note on her pad. “At present, I would like to know if you could be amicable with your new supervisory arrangements.”

  So many words. “Do you mean the orderlies that have been following me around? They’re about as subtle as a sledgehammer.” I snorted.

  “Yes.”

  “Fine,” I smirked. I knew for a fact that we could get around them. A big nosed orderly wasn’t going to keep a daemon away from me.

  Something shifted across the room, like heat from a scalding road in the summer sun. My gaze locked onto the red binding of a book, that it clearly didn’t belong with the neat row of medical journals. Instead of the chronical for my birth year was a book on demonology.

  It was the same book I had borrowed from Fulham Library when I first found out about Henry. My heart lodged in my throat, and I felt the distinctive sting of fear. My knees buckled and my energy dipped as it turned grey. I slid the book from the shelf, disturbing the dust and allowing it to fall open in my hands. Mavis didn’t seem to care that she didn’t have my full attention. The doctor prattled on as if getting to the end of her practised speech, and the end of the appointment, was the most important thing in her tiny little life.

  The library slip at the front of the book was printed with a date from 3 years go. It must have been around that time that I had borrowed the book from my local library. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs would not cooperate. The book had been abandoned back at my parent’s house in Fulham, when I had moved to Camden. I had lived in that house on my own like a spectre. Empty and in mourning.

  The book was the same one that has sparked my affair with Henry Blaire.

  I had thought the library ticket was a coincidence, but written under the date stamp were the words:

  I’m here, bitch.

  The book slipped from my fingers. Dr Mavis clamped her painted lips shut. She stood up and moved to my side as if I were an animal about to rip her innards out. Her steps were slow and cautious.

  “Sophia, are you alright?”

  I couldn’t stop shaking, my mouth was unable to form words. I raised my hand and pointed to the book and then back to the caramel haired doctor.

  “Dr Mavis?” My voice quivered. “How did that get here?”

  She bent down to retrieve the book and turned the cover over in her hands. For a second, I felt the tingle of a familiar power press against the back of my neck.

  Damian could be anyone. Anywhere. I felt his power as surely my own breath.

  There was only one person in the room. It couldn’t be? Not my doctor. Not Dr Mavis. A woman I trusted. Was she Damian?

  She looked up, her caramel eyes were full of professional concern.

  “Sophia, this is the April edition of Psychologies.” Mavis took the book from my icy fingers and placed it carefully on the coffee table. She was careful not to touch me. Words flashed through my mind, too quickly to ignore.

  Paranoid Schizophrenic.

  Volatile.

  Danger to herself and others.

  Delusions.

  Hallucinations

  Unable to move, my eyes drifted to the book on the table. It wasn’t a book at all, but a magazine with an eye on the cover. It looked completely innocent. I rubbed my palms into my eye sockets to stanch the flow of tears. My bottom lip quivered. It was happening again.

  I walked back to my room, dejected and broken with my orderly escort by my side. His name was Stan and he walked close enough that our arms brushed with every step. I could taste his hatred on the back of my tongue, like hot metal and burning fish.

  The daemon blood had changed me.

  He wants to kill you. You should kill him first. Melanie's laughter echoed through my mind, but I was steadfast and continued walking.

  I had felt him before I heard his footsteps.

  My eyes flickered to Henry’s as if we were two magnets drawn together. He was being escorted through the corridor, towards his own therapy appointment. Another orderly walked by his side. Our constant supervision.

  I looked pleadingly at my guard. “Can I just…talk to him?” I asked.

  Stan shook his head, his hand on my arm as he forced us forward. Against my will, my feet dragged, and I tripped on the flat ground when I turned back to look at my daemon. His eyes followed mine, forlorn. He mouthed, later and my heart fluttered.

  It was the only thing that kept me from breaking into pieces.

  It was night-time when Henry came to my room. I didn’t expect him to arrive in a swirl of grey smoke as if his body formed from wisps of dust and air. I jumped but didn’t make a sound. I had no idea that daemons could move like that.

  Without a word, I opened my arms and threw myself at him, sobbing, unable to hold it in anymore.

  Damian had found me. My hours, minutes, seconds were numbered.

  If that wasn’t the case, then I had sunk deeper into insanity. When I had thought that I was getting better, it was all ripped away from me again. I had gained Henry, only to lose just a little bit more of my mind.

  “Henry, we have to leave,” I gasped between sobs. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

  He pulled me close to his body, I could feel every muscle through his white cotton t-shirt as I snuggled in deeply
. I noticed that my tears had left little damp patches all over his chest, but it was hard to care when Henry was in front of me. He was mine.

  “What did you see?” He demanded, holding me at arm's length.

  “Damian left me a note. I think. I’m not sure.” I explained how the book had changed when it was out of my hands.

  “It’s unlike a Pureblood to use language like that. They don’t seem particularly invested in anything. Difficult to anger.” Henry rubbed his hand over his face. He looked bone tired, even though I knew daemons did not need to sleep.

  He doubts you. Melanie cooed, her words made me flinch.

  My own rage flared and my jaw clenched. I pushed away from Henry. “You think I imagined this?” I hissed. “You think I want to run for the rest of my life?!”

  “Sophia. Calm down.” Henry looked to the door, worried that my raised voice had gotten attention.

  When there was nothing but silence, he relaxed. “I didn’t say that. I am trying to understand what you see. Compared to Damian, I am weak.”

  “But you’re a daemon.”

  “I can’t even compare my strength to a Pureblood. One of the first demons of Hell!” He whispered harshly. “I have risked my life to save you. Please. Please understand why I take every caution.”

  His trembling fingers reached for where my hands rested on his chest. I was ready to push him away further but he grabbed my wrists and turned my palms over, exposing the Blaire Sigil on my skin. The black butterfly was burned into my flesh. I was scarred.

  I didn’t want caution. I wanted the sense of normality that came with being a girl in love.

  But there was a price.

  There always is.

  I closed my eyes as his fingers traced my sensitive flesh, I held back a shiver as I felt his deliciously cold body move closer to my own. I daren’t open my eyes as I gathered courage.

  “Where were you? When… you left me?” I asked. My voice was weak.

  Henry took a few seconds to answer, but I kept my eyes clamped shut. I couldn’t bear to see what his face held. If he had left me for another woman… I didn’t know what I would do. He had mentioned before that he had been ‘called back by Lillian.’ I had no idea what that meant.

  “Lillian is the leader of the Blaire Family. She required my presence.”

  “And Families are different from Purebloods?”

  “Families are led by the Elite,” Henry explained.

  “Why couldn’t you just say that to me? Why couldn’t you just explain?”

  “Lillian is difficult.” His voice grew strange as if he was mentally elsewhere. He looked uncomfortable. “I don’t want to tell you what she did when she found out I had found my soulmate.”

  “Please,” I whispered.

  “I don’t want you to think less of me.” Henry’s Adam's apple bobbed. “When you are ready. When I have fixed you of your curse. I will tell you about mine.”

  “Henry?” I asked hesitantly. “That is your real name, isn’t it?”

  “My name has been Henry, since the 1930’s.” He said, quietly. “When I was born as a daemon.”

  I nodded and allowed his arms to hold me. The energy swirled from earlier, but the grey residue that had appeared when Henry had appeared in my room had been slowly sucked away. Eaten by the daemon inside of the man that I loved.

  A phone started to ring outside of the door, but Henry did not react. I looked out of the pebbled glass, to the darkened corridor but saw nothing and no one. Henry hadn’t moved, he took a deep breath and seemed content to simply be in my presence.

  “Henry, can you hear a phone ringing?”

  “No, I can’t hear it.” His brow furrowed. “and I can hear everything within a hundred-yard radius.”

  “Are you saying there isn’t a phone ringing?” A tear leaked out of my eye. I pulled myself from his embrace and marched over to the door. The shrill ringtone of the phone grew louder, a siren pulsating in the corridor. I stepped onto the cool linoleum, my feet bare and gooseflesh raised. The heating didn’t come on at night, and it was lights out. I saw a flash of blue light and heard the tell-tale low vibration of a mobile phone. Henry poked his head around the door to follow me. I pointed to the phone and then shook my head at him.

  “The phone’s right there,” I said, waving my hand vaguely. “Can’t you hear it?”

  “Sophia, there’s nothing there.” He whispered.

  My face scrunched, my heart beat a frantic tattoo, but I kept my demeanour calm. I marched over to the phone, it was the latest model. It was something that I couldn’t afford with my insane inpatient salary.

  “It must belong to one of the doctors,” I whispered, turning it over in my hands. Henry was stricken, he looked at my hands and then back to my face. His expression broke my heart.

  He thinks you’re fucking insane. Melanie cackled.

  Henry and I heard the footsteps at the same time, I turned in time to see the double doors clink shut simultaneously. Dr Mavis stood at the end of the corridor, her face bathed in black lines from the moonlight as it leaked through the paned windows.

  “I see you found my phone.” She said in a disjointed voice.

  “Fucking hell.” I snarled. “Don’t tell me you’re a daemon.”

  Dr Mavis looked down to her chest, and blood blossomed across her white blouse like a red rose. The buttons of her shirt burst and scattered onto the floor. Her pink lips grimaced in horror, her eyes went dull. A hand protruded from her chest cavity, holding a heart. Her heart.

  I had only ever seen organs in drawings or butcher shops. Long dead animal hearts, fit for offal. Her heart continued to pump for a second as it squeezed the last dregs of blood out of the large vein like a juice box. The red-headed doctor fell forward. The arm behind her allowed her body to slide off it, like shedding a winter coat. The hand remained in its fist. It had punched cleanly through her chest cavity.

  I was unable to move, paralysed.

  “She wasn’t a daemon.” A sweet voice came from the darkness. Feminine. “But I am.” It belonged to Dany, the pink haired girl with an eating disorder. The girl who had spoken to me earlier that day. Her laugh was a harsh snort as if she was mildly amused at best. Her voice distorted, deepened. Her shadow extended and filled the light cast from the windows. I saw his straight porcelain teeth, his hazel eyes. The damn All-American looks that belonged to a sociopathic creature from Hell.

  “Damian.” A low snarl escaped Henry’s throat.

  “Brother.” Damian cooed. His eyes flickered to mine. “Sophia.” He doffed an invisible hat. My teeth clenched so tightly that I had to consciously release my jaw to be able to speak. I opened my mouth and couldn’t help the hysterical giggle that escaped my lips. I felt like Melanie had taken over my body, it was finally ending.

  I succumbed to my insanity.

  “I’m so fucking dead.” I cackled.

  3.

  When Trix and I dosed, back in the throes of my Bleeder days, she would start fights. Taking advantage of the enhanced healing abilities and strength that came from drinking daemon blood, she would pick a fight with the biggest man at whatever hole we frequented that week and beat him to a pulp.

  When Henry stepped forward, I knew a fight was going to break out. There was a crackle in the air as if one movement would release a dam.

  I couldn’t help but think of Beatrix Klein and the memory of my best friend, kicking a skinhead over and over in her Dior heels. How she towered over a man as he hunched over to protect his nuts. I laughed to myself as the memory played out in front of my eyes. Henry looked concerned, but Damian was benignly amused.

  The Pureblood found me funny.

  The two men were polar opposites. Henry was winter, with his Celestine blue eyes and mahogany hair. He was ice. But Damian was summer, he was fire and heat. The smell of burning flesh and the fear of flames.

  Whereas Henry was slight and leonine, Damian looked typically muscular. But I knew it was all for show, as the P
ureblood could look like anyone. I had seen him shapeshift into a child version of my own body when we had first met.

  Damian stretched out his arms, and casually noted the blood that stained his skin up his elbow. He held Dr Mavis's heart; he stared down at it with a look of concentration. Blue flames licked Damian’s skin in a burst, and the organ disappeared in a cloud of ash. He smacked his hands together to dispel the dust.

  Blood rushed through my ear drums, and my knees buckled. I had waited so long for Damian to come and finish the job, I almost didn’t believe he was in front of me.

  Henry’s teeth bared in a snarl and his bare feet slapped against the linoleum floor as he ran at Damian. Their bodies smacked together, the sound was a harsh crack of flesh hitting flesh. My daemon turned to me, his eyes flared pale ice blue.

  “Run!” Henry hissed, his teeth bared like a feral animal as he reached up to restrain the Pureblood. Out of the corner of my vision, I saw long black tendrils, like thick dark vines, weave from Damian across the shiny floor. They attached to my feet, I felt a horrific sting as the veins entered the space between each of my toes. When I could move, which was difficult, my neck was too stiff. My body was completely restrained by Damian's magic.

  Henry's eyes pleaded silently, they begged me to stay frozen as Damian picked him up like a ragdoll and discarded his body against the wall with an almighty crash. The drywall rained down, and Henry’s body rolled across the floor, his palms smacked against the floor as he struggled to steady his body against the momentum. Blood dribbled over his chin as he pushed himself onto his elbows.

  “Weak as a kitten,” Damian smirked. “How times have changed, Haage.”

  The Pureblood took a step forward, but I was paralysed and unable to run. The vines of his dark magic held me tightly in place. A thick obsidian fog covered my eyes and clouded my mind, I was trapped with my senses hindered.

  “Come to me, my dear,” Damian sang.

  Unable to resist, I went to him. My body wanted nothing more than to obey his every command, it was as natural as breathing. A small part of my brain screamed and bashed my fists against my mental prison. Begging to be released, my steps jarred as my mind fought back.