Grey October (East Hollow Chronicles)

by Charlotte Munro

  ‘Elli?’

  I reach for my bedside light, it flickers on after the third attempt, my hands are shaking, my fingers slick with terror. The light illuminates a blonde figure by my doorway, her svelte body draped in a fluffy dressing gown, tightly wrapped around her body. Her features sparkle, they are warm, concerned and familiar. I am thankful they are familiar. Not the grabbing hands and stern voices of the workmen or the waiting passengers’ screams of terror or flailing limbs.

  ‘Elli, are you okay?’

  ‘Jade… Jade... I’m fine.’ I murmur, trembling hands pulling the bed sheets tightly around my body, like a cocoon, like a shield from the nightmares, the terror of the memories. My gaze moves to Jade, she pads barefoot through the dull grey carpet of my room, closing the window and pulling the curtains back to normality, she turns, eyes finding me. She perches herself like the fragile bird she resembles on the edge of my bed, her hand finds mine beneath the covers, squeezing even through the thick duvet, my cold, shaking fingers.

  ‘Dreams again.’ she breathes, her voice so airy, so light. I find her presence calming, even with wrought nerves I grasp her fingers through the duvet. Jade has been my friend for the school years of my life, and even now, with her nearly finishing college and me working, she sticks by my side.

  ‘It’s... It’s a year tomorrow, Jade. I... I don’t know what to do.’ I feel my eyes burn, they haze and everything around me contorts into spirals and wisps of nothing. My light oak cabinets merge all together, my wall of photos all smeared. The hot tears threaten to fall and stream down my face.

  ‘I’m here. We’re here. It’s okay, Elli. It’s okay.’ Her pink manicured nails curl around the duvet as she leans forward, arms wrapping themselves around me, the motherly hug I do not see anymore, even though she is only a few months older than me, she protects me in her embrace, her hand stroking my back, consoling me in my darkest times. A friend. A friend is better than a mother, a father who disowned me that very week. It was my fault she died. I drove her to jump. I made her life Hell. It is what they believed, it is what they think.

  She didn’t jump. I know she didn’t. It was an accident. I don’t care what the reports say, that people saw her jump, that she whispered into the air she was sorry. I know my Twin, we are one of the same, and I know she wouldn’t jump. Madi, Madi was perfect, Madi was everything. She wouldn’t jump. No one believed me, they said I was in denial. Soon enough I would change. Anger. It revolts through your body and you wish that it was someone else, not your sister, not someone like Madison. Anyone else but her.

  ‘Jade.’ I murmur, biting my lip, trying to train my tears to stay, but I was never good at willing things to happen, to stay. They fall down my pale cheeks, running like tributaries in the grasslands of the valley. On and on and on.

  ‘It’s too early to get up, too late to go back to sleep. Do you want a drink?’ Jade says, half a smile upon her lips, she pulls away and stares at me with those doe-like emerald eyes and I feel that she is imitating my sister with the caring, the softness of her voice. I am meek, even though I try and stay strong, I drop the duvet cocoon and nod limply.

  ‘I have college is a few hours, you have work. It is terrible outside, a nice warm mug of tea will do wonders. You know what they say about tea?’

  ‘It cures all ills.’

  ‘Us Brits and our tea.’ She laughs, leaning back, wrapping the dressing gown tighter around her body, she treads carefully and slowly towards the door, pushing it slightly with a tentative hand.

  ‘I don’t think Liv even went to sleep.’ She muses, and as she does I crane my neck, peering through my door, seeing that the living room light is on, the darkness from outside concealed by tightly drawn drapery. I see a bob of black hair as Olivia rushes to and fro from kitchen to couch.

  ‘What’s up with her?’

  ‘College assignment. You know how she is with her cookery class.’

  ‘Culinary, it’s culinary!’ Liv’s voice pierces though the quiet household the three of us share. Her black hair strewn up into a high ponytail, messy and unkempt she stands just outside the door, in the hallway, her shadow casting a long and achingly eerie shadow into my room.

  ‘I’ve made soufflé, do you want to try some?’

  ‘Tea and soufflé. Our medicine for a tough night.’ Jade laughs, a delicate, dainty laugh. When I first met Jade when we were seven, I thought she was a doll. Her beautiful blonde hair, her doe eyes, her petite frame. She joked that she was a princess and that her prince would come and whisk her away. Eleven years is a long time to believe that, now all I believe in is that the grim reaper takes the souls away of those you love, there is no princes and no princesses. Just a harsh, cold life that you try and make the most of.

  Its friends like Jade and Liv that keep me from following after my sister.

  ‘What soufflé is it, Liv?’ I ask, treading cautiously and sluggishly, still blinking away threatening tears and reaching for the old and worn dressing gown hanging up behind my door.

  ‘We only had some blackening bananas. I wanted to make lemon; light and refreshing but I didn’t want to use the cheap squeezy synthetic stuff – Madame Eloise would despise me!’

  ‘We’re college students and Elli hardly earns the wage of a Doctor. Cheap squeezy synthetic stuff is all we can afford.’ Jade swans in, clicking on the kettle with a swift and deft hand motion; you would not think she had only just woken up; her hair pristine and draping by her shoulders in golden waves, her manicured nails reaching up and swiping three mugs from the cupboard above. I am silent, slipping into the creaky chair next to the table in the kitchen, folding my arms around myself to stop from shivering.

  It’s always the same. The nightmares. I always wake at the same moment, staring down at her broken body, her deadened eyes. I grip my nails into my arms, stopping myself from starting up again. Olivia sweeps through the small area where the cooker is, reaching inside she bites her lip, mentally praying that the soufflés have not fallen, and as she pulls them inch by inch out of the rotten old cooker, she is careful to walk, inch by inch to the table, where as soon as she places them, they pop and fall, leaving Liv’s face mortified.

  ‘No!’ her scream is enough to make them inch back towards the cooker, but all I see is Jade carry expertly the three mugs of tea. She has three spoons caught between her teeth, whilst placing the mugs down upon the table top, she pulls the spoons from her mouth, placing them by myself and Liv, before scooping a mouthful of the hot, bubbling soufflé and flapping a hand by her mouth complaining it is too hot.

  ‘Well, you don’t expect them to be cold, do you? Where did they just come from?’ Liv gestures towards the oven with a wavering hand but Jade giggles, taking a mouthful of milky, weak tea and swallowing.

  ‘Well, they might not look much, but they are delicious.’

  My friends. My stability. Without them, without my job, I am certain I will be buried alongside my sister in the town’s graveyard, beneath the old, dreary oak, with the onyx monolith. I make a mental note, on the way home from work, I must go and pick up some flowers for her. Roses. Pale pink roses. She always loved roses.

  ‘Elli?’ Liv offers a hand over the table, clutching at my fingers that wrap around my mug of steaming tea. Her black painted square cut nails brushing over my knuckles with warmth.

  Tears trickle from the corners of my eyes, warm and wet down by cheeks.

  ‘You need some fun, Elli. We’ll take you tomorrow night, tonight, whatever. We’ll go to Avalon. The club is having a special offer on drinks. I really think you need to blanket yourself in a nice alcohol quilt.’

  ‘And they’re just going to let me in… without I.D?’

  ‘The good thing about Jade, is she can be very persuasive. That you can just, slip right in.’ She winks and curls her black nails around my hand, gently cupping my palm in hers. ‘Might find you a nice guy, you never know.’

  The laughter of the three of us die out with the thunderous pounding of rain
hitting the kitchen window, and the whipping of winds that howl and roar as they blow past the flats. The winter is rolling in, the cold, dreary nights and chilly grey days are what are to come. A night in Avalon, it brings more hope than sitting here mulling over a mug of steaming sweet tea.

  ‘Why is October so miserable?’ Liv breaks the silence, twirling her finger over the rim of her mug, dipping a forefinger into the warm soufflé, thoughtfully staring at the consistency, noting her flaws, her errors.

  ‘East Hollow is miserable.’ Jade agrees, only looking to me with a slight smile and a snicker in her voice.

  ‘But where there are melancholic nights, there are some hot brooding guys.’

  Evander –

  ‘So, what exactly are you thinking will happen, Evan? When they find out you haven’t got your pendant, there will be Hell to pay.’

  Alpheus drones, his voice becoming a monotonous blur in my head. A dull thud, thud, thud as he walks over the ebony stone floor, echoing in my head. I lean back into the chaise lounge, clutching the stem of the gold goblet with taut fingers. Swirling the claret inside with a pique of an eyebrow.

  He doesn’t understand my tedium. He doesn’t understand how I feel so constricted inside of these walls, so bored of the company of the minions, the lower class and even sometimes them. I want something interesting, something exciting to happen. Dropping my pendant and leaving it for some pitiful human to pick up, it just opens up new doors to a little bit more excitement in my life.

  ‘Alphie, come on. Evan knows what he’s doing.’ Kaiser grunts, he is standing just on the balcony of the castle, looking out to the brimstone walls of Hell and the many districts below. The sulphurous air feels thick and suffocating as normal, clawing at my throat, my chest. It is home, at least.

  ‘It means a few trips to the human world, getting out of here.’ I stretch my legs out along the lounge, flopping my head over the headrest, the soft, plush red leather pliable and warm against my neck. Upside down the living hall looks no different. Gilded portraits of the age-old Demon Lords and Ladies. The cabinets displaying the older, worn weapons that a Demon used to carry. We are now far more sophisticated. Borrowing technology from a few human slaves; they think themselves luckier than most. They sit within the catacombs of the castle, inventing all the new, state-of-the-art weaponry designs, using the cursed glimmering iron born from hell’s fire, the rubies gifted with flame and darkness and the souls of a few dearly departed, our gunfire is as sophisticated as most, our swords as glimmering and deadly even more so than pathetic human steel.

  ‘How can you say no?’ I chuckle, lifting my hand above me and swirling the half empty goblet in my grasp. The scarlet liquid dancing around the golden cup, licking the edges as I plonk it down beside the chaise lounge. Sighing heavily I roll over to the side, watching as Alpheus perches on one of the stools, with red velvet bound tome in hand, flicking through several pages with a scowl upon his face.

  ‘I’m not saying no. it’s not like I’m against the idea.’ Alphie raises his gaze, our eyes meet and I see the glimmer of desire floating in his dark eyes. He places the book down, resting it upon his knee, turning his attention to Kai who is leaning out over the balcony with precarious balance, the hot breeze whipping his silvery locks by the nape of his neck and twirling the heavy burgundy drapes with tender-like fingers, looking like bloody mists encircling him.

  ‘Human girls. Human alcohol. A mix that equals girls with no morals.’ Kai’s laughter fills the balcony before he turns back inside of the living room, twirling one of the bone hilted daggers he keeps by his waist in his palm, the double edged blade glimmering beneath the candlelit chandeliers above.

  ‘How can you possibly say no to that?’ he raises his eyebrows at Alphie before pulling out a stool on the other side of me. I flop myself back against the plush leather of the seat, twirling a finger around the black embroidery of my lapel. Eyes watching through a cover of black hair as he runs his finger along the sharp knife, tentative and with luminous eyes. It seems I’m not the only one who wants a bit of fun; who is up for a break of excitement.

  ‘Pick up a few deals while we’re there. It’ll keep the Kings happy. It will stop Satan from rolling in his throne.’ I add, running a stray hand through my hair, out of my view and off my face. I have ideas, flashes of future plans in my mind. I could do with a night out, the human world has much to offer. It is a shame that we are only given East Hollow as our playground for now – until we exhaust our resources there. There is only just so many souls that can go missing from earth before the Angels get word of our havoc. Before then, I intend on stretching my legs, broadening my horizons and toying with a few human emotions. I have a plan, one working in the cogs and wheels of my mind. It has yet to be achieved, yet to me attained. A heartbroken soul, one whose heart has been shattered by none other than a Demon. Leaving my pendant there completely in the open, I am almost certain that it will fall into the soft fingers of a girl. And when I find her, I will work my wily charm, bedazzle her with my handsome smirk, my gemstone eyes.

  Not many can resist a Demon Prince.

  ‘There’s something more behind this, isn’t there Evan?’ Alphie asks, he has his book open again, flicking through the middle pages, using his forefinger as a guide to find the paragraph he is looking for.

  ‘Hm?’ I feign ignorance, knowing full well that he has seen my mind ticking, seen the dark reaches of my mind working over and over. Yes, I do have ulterior motives: I want to show my father, show the courts that I haven’t screwed up – my first soul collection did not go so well, I was inexperienced, I was naïve. I did not want to let that happen again. Setting my goal high, it only makes the climb that much more interesting.

  ‘Everyone has a soul that they’ve reaped that wasn’t the right one. It’s not your fault that you ended up with Twins.’ Kai murmurs, leaning over and picking up the goblet I left beside me, his takes it in his hefty grasp and downs the bloody contents. The blood is rich and warm, alive with a faded pulse that refuels us. As he drops the cup back to the ground, he has trails of red slipping from the corner of his mouth as he speaks, this time to Alphie.

  ‘And you haven’t even had your first soul yet, have you, Alphie?’

  ‘At least when I collect mine, it will be the right one.’

  ‘There is still a soul in hell, is there not?’ I roll forward, lurching off the chair with a swift movement, leaning forward I grip my fingers around my knees, clawing my fingernails to stop me from flying off at my brethren. I had made a mistake, which he will not leave alone. Like a scab, picking and poking it, it only aggravates it more, aggravates me more.

  ‘You never know, Evan. You might find her one day and then you can have two-for-one. I’m sure Lucifer will lay off you for a while, and your father will be just as content.’ Kai says, his lips tugging into a smirk, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and upon his pale skin the red trail stands out.

  ‘You have a better chance of becoming King, right this second, than finding her.’ Alphie’s face lights up with a cruel twist of his lips and I lean back into the chaise lounge, my burning fingers still digging into my knees.

  ‘And I don’t see that happening.’ He chuckles and it is almost infectious because Kaiser starts and then I cannot help myself. I laugh alongside them, but at something completely different.

  Wouldn’t it be ironic if she finds my pendant?

  ***

  The foretelling room is dark this evening; the shadows dance around the thickset crimson candelabras with menace and life. They leap and stretch across the curtained walls with a newfound electricity, an essence that fills me with a strange, welcoming presence. I am born of the shadow and born of the flame. Even if at times I find these walls tedious, this life monotonous, it is mine and it will be mine for ever. The price you pay for being immortal. Your face might not change, you may not age, feel the effects wear you down, but you will see many sights and you will have to govern over many more Demons
that spring from hell’s fire, born from younger Kings, younger Dukes and nobles. You’ll See to those rising in the ranks that they are worthy of holding their position. Over the thousands and thousands of legions in Hell, you are all but one. And you will be here for all you days.

  It almost feels like a life sentence.

  The shrouded skeleton hunches over the glass sphere in the centre of the black ash table. Her bony fingers touching the glass with such a tentative touch, clawing at the sides of the globe with an unseen desire, a hunger for the future. I reach into my jacket pocket, pulling out the still-warm cloth wrapped bread. Baked hot and spicy with raisins and fruit, with the bone char of human kings and poets. Payment for a reading from the skeletal witch is always something from Demon baker Dagon. The best baker in all of Hell, he plunges into hell’s fire rich pies, baked breads and an endless list of pastries and cakes. All topped off with the remains of humans. Those that have not stuck to their deal, those that have tried to run away when chased. Those unworthy of even being a prisoner in our glorious world.

  I place the wrapped bread upon the table, sitting down slowly, eyes curious and slightly dubious as they watch the flicker of flame, blue and black and red, dancing beneath the glass sphere. Watching her bone fingers, alabaster white, touch the glass as though it might break. Beneath her cowl her yellow slit eyes widen.

  ‘A King you shall be but not what you desire.

  No, dear boy, you wish to aim higher.

  A soul walks the earth, one you want, you need,

  Not until then will you be freed.’ Her voice is gravelly, a crackle as loud as the hiss of flames. The candles burn brighter and brighter, the crimson candle wax rolling down the side like a trickle of life’s blood. I watch, narrowing my gaze at the witch, my fingers taking a stronger grip upon the table’s edge, grinding my fingernails into the black ash wood.