by Alexis Hall
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she called in an eerie sing-song.
She passed a lamppost. There was a blur of motion, and a second later it crashed through the window of a Celebrations party shop, scattering shards of glass, streamers, and feather boas into the street. A solitary helium balloon drifted out into the mist.
“I can do this all night.” She dusted her hands off theatrically.
I yelled out her name, but my voice was lost in a roar of engines as Michelle’s gang swept in from all sides, the decals on their bikes actually burning, and tracks of fire streaming in their wake. I ran for the shelter of the shattered shop front.
Michelle swerved to a halt in front of Julian, the bike skidding away on its side as she leapt clear.
Julian put her hands on her hips. “So this is the Witch Queen’s cavalry.”
Wings of flame erupted from Michelle’s shoulders and a burning sword appeared in her hand. I was sensing a theme here. “I don’t do banter,” she said, and swung her sword straight at Julian.
Of course, Julian wasn’t there. “And what exactly do you do?” She was standing on the top of the railway bridge half a street away.
Once again, I’d brought a knife to a super-power fight. I was seriously outclassed, and I couldn’t see what the fuck was going on. Also, somebody might set me on fire. I scrambled out of the wreckage of the store and up the broken security grill. By the time I’d got onto the roof ledge, Michelle was flying, the tips of her wings cutting golden arcs through the mist.
The rest of the bikers were fanning out into what was clearly a well-rehearsed deployment pattern. The ones on the quickest, lightest bikes criss-crossed the street, layering trails of fire into a barricade, and suddenly the sky lit up like Guy Fawkes’s night as the mages launched their attack.
They threw fire. A lot of fire. Some breathed it from their mouths, some shot it from their fingertips, some lobbed great balls of the stuff. One conjured a flock of fiery birds that soared towards the bridge.
Julian vaulted backwards out of sight, and I heard the explosions from a second barrage on the other side of the road. A moment later she dropped to the ground again, driven back by a crossfire of, well, fire. Michelle swooped out of the sky and rammed her sword through Julian’s back.
The next few seconds seemed to go on forever. My proto-girlfriend had just been pretty thoroughly stabbed, and I had no idea how to feel about it because she was blatantly the bad guy.
But I really did kind of like her. Yes, I was a faery-blooded, thirty-something PI with trust issues and a drinking problem, and she was a psychotic undead nun with a pudding fixation, but I really thought we were in with a chance.
A weird sort of hush had fallen over the mages like they couldn’t believe it had worked.
Julian turned round slowly and caught Michelle by the throat, wrenching the sword out of her grip. She forced her back, holding her at arm’s length. With her free hand, Julian took hold of the burning blade and began to shove it backwards through her own chest. Michelle grabbed onto Julian’s wrist and wrapped her other hand round Julian’s neck, flames pouring from her fingers.
I started to scrabble over the rooftops towards the bridge. Fuck knew what I thought I was going to do when I got there.
The sword came free and clattered to the ground. Julian tore Michelle’s hand from her neck, yanked her forwards, and bit her. The fire went out.
The mages went ballistic. Literally. A torrent of flames filled the road from both directions, creating a vast inferno beneath the railway bridge. I had to shade my eyes from the heat and the glare, and when I looked back Julian was walking out of the fire, dragging Michelle’s limp body with her. Julian’s clothes were charred and tattered, her skin streaked with ash. She did not look happy.
She threw Michelle at the feet of her followers. Michelle tried to stand but then collapsed. I’d thought she was dead, but it looked like she was just damn close to it.
Julian gave a flourishing bow. “Next.”
A couple of the older mages exchanged brief looks and stepped forwards. Each stretched one hand towards Julian and the other towards their comrade, and chains of fire bound the three of them. Julian fell to her knees, screaming, and the scent of burning flesh seared the air.
The bikers ran forwards, wielding chains and tire irons, for a game of splat the vampire.
Fuck fuck fuck.
I had to do something. But what? If I did nothing and Julian died, I’d feel like shit. And if I got in the way and Julian killed someone, I’d feel like shit.
Julian lashed out wildly as the mages closed in on her, flinging them aside and dashing the weapons out of their hands. This was getting really fucking nasty. Mages were falling, but they kept coming. And as the fire under the bridge died away, they were joined by more from the other side. I didn’t know how long Julian was going to last.
Then one of the mages holding the chains gave a terrible shriek and fell to the ground, flames erupting from beneath his skin. Fire magic is fucking dangerous, and this was why. The other one staggered back, blisters bursting across her arms and face. The chains vanished.
Unbound, Julian ripped through the remaining bikers. The ones that could run, ran, leaving Julian alone on a bloody, burned-out street, surrounded by crumpled bodies and discarded motorcycles. She walked over to one of the fallen and lifted him to his feet.
“Tell your mistress I am still waiting.”
She dropped him and he fled.
One of the other mages was crawling towards his bike. I caught a familiar flash of orange hair.
“Do you have a death wish, little wizard?” asked Julian, as Ector pulled his bike up and got on it.
“Fuck you, you dead bitch!” he yelled. He revved his engine and raised his right hand, a plume of flame solidifying into a burning lance.
Then he charged, fire blazing in his wake.
Julian dodged aside, grabbed the bike in one hand and Ector in the other. The bike spun through the window of a Western Union. Ector dangled.
“Foolish.” Julian snapped his neck.
She dropped the body and walked away.
My rosary was starting to feel just a little bit trivial. Ector had been pretty annoying, but now he was dead. I guess this should have changed how I felt about Julian, but it didn’t. I’d always known what she was.
I climbed down from my ledge and hurried after her.
Nimue stepped out from a side street. She was wearing faded jeans and a grey hoodie. She’d grown out her hair so it fell past her shoulders in loose, dark coils.
“You wanted to see me?”
Julian flicked ash from her ruined epaulettes. “You attacked me, I let it go. You attacked me again, for that you die.”
Before she could develop that thought, a sleek black limo eased its way down the street and pulled to a halt amidst the wreckage. The doors opened, and Tara flowed gracefully out like she was at a movie premiere, followed by Henry and some other pack members I vaguely remembered from the funeral.
“Miss Vane-Tempest, fancy meeting you here,” said Julian, with a slightly ironic look.
Tara tossed her hair haughtily. “This is a family matter, Saint-Germain.”
“Oh yes, they got one of your pups, didn’t they?”
“On your territory.”
“Ah, do you wish to lodge a complaint with the management?” Julian bared her fangs in something that could have been a smile.
“I have come for vengeance.”
Julian’s teeth glinted. “Get in line, dear heart.”
“There are five of us and ours is the greater claim.”
“Amazingly, I don’t care.”
“That is enough.” Nimue didn’t raise her voice, but it carried on the wind. “There are no claims here. No vengeance will be taken.”
Claws scythed from the tips of Tara’s fingers, and she strode forwards. “I will not tolerate your impudence, witch.”
Nimue raised her hand, and Ta
ra went slowly to her knees before her. “You stand in my place of sovereignty. You will offer me no harm, but hear my judgement.”
Julian came flying forwards, fangs bared. And the next moment she was kneeling too, snarling up at Nimue.
Although she looked serene, I’d known Nim for years, and I could see the tension running down the line of her neck. I couldn’t imagine how much this was taking out of her. I ran across the street towards them.
“One of our courtiers was responsible for the attempt on your life, but not for the attack on your property,” Nimue told Julian. “She has been punished for her crimes, and you will take no further action against her or us.” She turned to Tara. “Neither we, nor any of our court, had any part in the death of your cousin. We swear this by the earth, the sky, and our true name. You will no longer seek our blood, nor the blood of our people. You will both leave this place and return to your places of power. And for what has happened here tonight, neither we nor our court shall pursue you. This is our judgement. Your wealth, your title, and your strength are forfeit should you defy us.”
Nimue stepped past them and went to tend the wounded.
Julian and Tara both got slowly to their feet. I guessed this was my cue. I stepped forwards.
They glared at me.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Julian.
“I came to tell you it wasn’t the mages.”
Tara gazed haughtily down at me. “You’re a little late, Kate Kane. I think we’ve already established that.”
“You didn’t believe the witch, did you?” Julian sounded pretty scornful for someone who had been kneeling on the ground a few moments ago. “Witches lie.”
“She swore on the land and on her name,” said Tara. “If she is lying, then she has sacrificed everything for that lie, and we have no need to punish her further.”
Julian sneered. “That’s all very kumbayaya, but somebody’s fucking with me, and somebody’s going to pay.”
“Well, that’s your problem, Saint-Germain.” Tara swept her hair over her shoulders and caught my hand. It was so unexpected, I didn’t have time to pull away. She raised it to her lips and kissed it with a bit too much linger. “Always a pleasure, Kate Kane.” And having casually fucked my relationship, the whole family got back into the limo and left.
Julian’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve been stabbed, set on fire, and given orders by a witch. That better not be what I think it is, sweeting, because I’m having a very bad night.”
“She was just being a dick. Julian, can we please focus on the murders?”
“You don’t have a good track record in that area.”
It was a cheap shot, but I let it slide, given the circumstances. “I tried to tell you. That’s why us mortals have a legal system. Sometimes you’re going to finger the wrong person.”
“Don’t I know it, sweeting. So, who are you fingering now?”
I pulled the pieces of the rosary out my pocket. “I found these at the scene.”
Julian stared.
“Are you okay?” I awkwardly patted her shoulder. I’m not very good at comforting people at the best of the times. This was a long way from the best of times. But, to my surprise, she put a blackened and blood-stained hand on top of mine like she really appreciated it.
“This is probably quite bad,” she said in a small voice.
“Bad how?”
“There’s only one person I can think of who would still have this.”
“Anacletus?” I suggested.
She nodded.
“What are you going to do?”
She seemed to give it some serious thought. “I’m going to take you home and fuck you senseless.”
“I’m not objecting, but how will that help?”
“It’ll take my mind off it.”
“Fair enough. Where to?”
“Can we go to your place?”
“Sure, I’ll call us a cab.”
She grinned, an impish look spreading across her face. “No need for that, sweeting.”
I’d assumed she meant “I will summon us a sex-mobile with my vast wealth,” but then she swept me into her arms.
“Now, wait a minute,” I protested.
And the next thing I knew we were on the roof of the news ’n’ booze, the motion so swift and sudden, I barely felt it. I considered making a fuss, but then realised that struggling would look even more undignified than being carried across London by someone a clear foot shorter than me.
At first I was gritting my teeth—I don’t much like being in the passenger seat of a car if I can help it—but slowly I relaxed. It wasn’t something I’d have volunteered for, but, truth be told, it was kind of nice. A new perspective. The world went by in ribbons of glittering light. The night air beating against my face made me feel free, and Julian’s arms were strong. God, I was getting sentimental in my old age.
As soon as I’d let us into the flat, Julian was on me, shoving me hard against the door. The acrid scent of ashes rose up from her tattered clothing, but her mouth was soft and sweet, the familiar taste of wine and roseleaves sweeping over my tongue and making me dizzy. I put my hands flat to the walls on either side to steady myself, the peeling paintwork catching under my fingertips. Julian’s teeth grazed my neck. I heard a harsh gasp and realised it was me.
Julian pressed an answering murmur into my skin. “Kate. Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom.”
Wow. I never thought I’d shag someone who used the word “Christendom.”
I caught the gleam of her smile through the gloom of my dingy hallway. If I’d known I was going to get laid here, I would have fixed the lights. Her hands curled into my hips, her body moving against mine as she stretched up to kiss me again, and I stopped thinking. She was relentless, our kisses fierce and tangled, pleasure consuming me like fire. I felt her hand at my belt, undoing the buckle, and then she was slipping under the waistband of my very functional boyshorts. I really wished I’d worn better underwear. Her fingers danced over my skin like she was mapping me. I shuddered. And then she pressed between my legs. My sudden cry broke the kiss, and I scrabbled at the walls, trying to regain a bit of control.
Julian undid the buttons of my shirt and slipped her free hand beneath the fabric, cupping my breast and curling her tongue under the top of my bra. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “I’ll take care of you.”
I was trying to think of a witty comeback when she slid a couple of fingers into me, the heel of her hand grazing my clitoris, and then I had no chance. I moaned and wrecked the wall a bit more.
Look. I sometimes have trouble letting go. What if I need that stuff? Everyone holds themselves back. It’s what you do if you want to stay sane. But when I was with Julian, sane didn’t come into it. She made me want everything.
And I wanted this. This mad swirl of desire. Kisses of blood and roses. Pleasure that could undo me. I closed my eyes and let her have me. And, in moments, I came apart on her fingers with a desperate prayer to a God I didn’t believe in. I half collapsed on the bliss of it, hands catching at Julian to stop me sinking onto the floor. She steadied me round the waist as I gasped my way through a pretty awesome orgasm. And just when I was coming down, and breathing and seeing and functioning seemed to be options again, she bit me. And a second one hit me like a train.
“Wow.” Julian wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. “You look really hot when you come.”
“Guh,” I said.
She navigated me through my own flat to the bedroom.
“Oh, look,” she observed, as we passed through my living room, “you’ve cleaned all the things.”
“Guh,” I said.
She peeled me out of my coat and jacket, and I crumpled onto the bed. Julian left her clothes in a pile on the floor and pounced on top of me.
I made my mouth work. “God. Anyone would think you were some kind of ancient immortal sex monster.”
“You know what they say. She who would shag ancient immortal s
ex monsters must take care lest she become an ancient immortal sex monster.”
“Who the fuck says that?”
“Germans.”
I caught her behind the neck and dragged her down into a kiss. “I’m still wearing way too many clothes,” I said, when I came up for air.
Julian resolved the issue and then crawled back up my body, her skin gliding over mine. I skimmed my hands down her back, making her purr.
“This is weird.” I kissed the side of her neck. “We haven’t been interrupted by monsters, yet.”
“Well, if it’ll get you in the mood, there’s a very real chance that a two-thousand-year-old vampire who really likes to watch could creep up on us at any moment.”
In hindsight, monsters hadn’t been a great subject for sexy banter. I was supposed to be taking her mind off Anacletus, not dragging him into bed with us.
“I’m not really into that.”
She licked the dried blood off my neck, the tip of her tongue teasing at the wound. It was a strange sensation, a kind of stinging pleasure. Propping herself on her elbows, she looked down at me, my blood glistening on her lips. “What are you into, sweeting?”
I slid out from under her and pressed her down onto her front, kissing the nape of her neck, a few strands of her hair curling feather soft against my face.
“Oh, you know, this ’n’ that.”
I dragged my tongue along the curve of her shoulder blade, heat dancing under the skin where I touched it.
“Well,” she murmured, “let me know if you find anything you like.”
I ran a fingernail down her spine, and she gave a full-body shiver. “That’s quite fun.”
She made small, contented noises as I strung kisses across her back. Her skin had that oddly untouched quality that vampires have, unscarred, unblemished, and unaging. She was as pristine as a sheet of paper. Only a dusting of freckles over the tops of her shoulders and a beauty mark at the top of her hip reminded me she was real. Well, that and the way she sighed and wriggled underneath me.
