by Lou Morgan
Alice’s hand was burning. The fire coiled around her fingers and spun about her wrist. Just like the last time, she couldn’t feel any heat or pain, only a mild tingling, like pins and needles in the very tips of her fingers. Not that that had stopped Vin’s jacket from catching fire where she had touched it. She stared at her hand. Vin stared at her hand. Mickey the landlord stared at her hand and muttered a few choice words under his breath... and from the other side of the desk, Mallory groaned and stood up, shaking out his wings. The sound of moving feathers pulled Alice back to herself, clearing her head in a moment. The fire faded and she rubbed her palms together briskly, scrabbling her feet against the floor as she stood up. Mallory was staring at Mickey, his hand pressed tightly against his shoulder. Blood seeped down the front of his jacket.
“Ouch,” he said. “That hurt.” He pulled his hand away and looked down at it crossly, wiping it on his jeans. “I don’t like getting shot. Frankly, it pisses me off.” His wings stretched further out from his back as he leaned over Mickey, clamping his hands down over the arms of the chair and pinning him in place. “And you probably don’t want to piss me off...”
“Mallory.” Gwyn’s voice made them all jump – no-one more than Mickey, whose look of terror became one of abject despair when he spotted the blond angel in the doorway.
Mallory let go of the chair and backed away. Gwyn stepped into the office, and gave Alice a dirty look. “You, I thought I locked in. You need to learn to do as you are told, Alice.” He turned to Mallory. “The Fallen have been here, alright. The storeroom reeks of them. More than one, and I’d say there was one of the Twelve. Which means you,” he said, pointing to Mickey, “have some explaining to do.”
“I told him already. There was one. He came by, said he was...”
“Yes, yes. I’m not interested in Rimmon. Him, we know about.” Gwyn waved towards the photographs on the floor. “I want to know who else paid you a visit.”
“There was just him, I swear it!” His voice sounded increasingly desperate.
Gwyn sighed. “Be careful what you say next, little man. Don’t forget who you’re dealing with.”
As he spoke, his wings snapped open, sparks hopping from feather to feather and across his fingertips. His eyes shone in the gloom and even Vin was edging away, obviously preferring to stand next to Alice and risk being set on fire again over getting too close to Gwyn.
The man in the chair looked suitably cowed, but before he could say anything, Mallory sighed. “I’ve had enough of this,” he muttered, and without another word, he folded his wings and stormed past them, out of the room.
“I swear I don’t know anything! On my soul!” Mickey called after him.
Gwyn narrowed his eyes. “I’ll remember that.” Like Mallory, he closed his wings and – with one last look – left the room. Alice and Vin exchanged glances and followed, pausing only for Alice to pick up one of the photographs from the floor. The same instinct she’d followed earlier told her that it might be worth hanging onto. She closed the door on the quiet sobbing coming from the office.
As she reached the foot of the staircase, she saw Mallory lope over to the angel he had beaten earlier, now hunched over a chair.
“Come here, you old fraud,” he said, and tipped Drial’s head back, placing his other hand on his forehead. He held him there for a moment, then with an awful cracking sound, Mallory’s nose began to bleed. “You know, you don’t deserve me,” he said, dropping his hands and moving on, limping a little as he headed for the door.
Alice’s fingers began to tingle, ever so gently, and she stuffed her hands into her pockets. She was beginning to see a pattern. Mallory shouldered his way through the crowd that had gathered around Drial and pushed through the door into the dark, ducking into an alley beside the bar.
It was raining; a light, misting drizzle. But, just as before, Mallory wasn’t getting wet. Not even a little bit. It was as though the rain simply went around him. Just like it was doing to her.
Outside, Vin grinned at her. Mallory rolled his eyes and sniffed, rubbing at his nose. Gwyn was watching her, tapping his knuckles against his teeth.
“Vhnori?” he said.
Vin looked round. “What?”
“I’m going to ask you to do something a little... unorthodox.”
“Okay...?”
“I’d like you to hit Mallory, please.”
“For real?”
“Now, if you don’t mind.”
Mallory looked over at him. “What? Hit me? What for?”
“Humour me,” Gwyn said and waved Vhnori on. Vin shrugged and stepped in front of Mallory, who folded his arms. “Don’t you even think...” He was cut off by Vin’s fist connecting with his jaw.
“Ow. Also, you punch like a girl.”
“Eyes on Alice, please,” Gwyn said, staring at her. “Alice? Take your hands out of your pockets. Your jacket is smoking.”
Alice looked down. A wisp of smoke curled up from her pockets. She slowly drew out her hands, and warm light bounced off the alley walls. “It’s not my jacket. It’s me.” Despite his rapidly swelling jaw, Mallory’s mouth dropped open. Vin simply looked uncomfortable – although that may have been more down to the fact he was cradling his hand; Mallory obviously had a harder head than he was expecting. Gwyn was still watching as Alice held her hands out, as far away from her body as she could. She was, after a fashion, getting used to the whole fire thing, but that didn’t mean she liked it. And then she could have sworn she saw him smile, and quicker than she could follow, Gwyn had knocked Vin off his feet with a sudden blow to his ribs. Vin groaned and rolled on the ground. Mallory smirked, but not for long. Gwyn turned to him and simply said: “I think he could use a little help, don’t you?”
The smile faded from Mallory’s face. “You what?”
“He has a broken rib, at the very least. I don’t think you can leave him like that, do you?”
“How the... what the... why...” Mallory couldn’t quite make it to the end of any of the sentences he started, but after a minute or two, his shoulders sagged. “How the fuck is that fair?” he said, finally. Even so, he knelt down next to Vin and, swearing under his breath, he placed his hands on the groaning angel’s chest.
This time, it was immediate. The fire flared at Alice’s fingertips, running up and down her arms, skimming her throat. She stood as still as she could, afraid even to breathe. Gwyn nodded. “You don’t need to be afraid of it, Alice. It won’t hurt you. It can’t.”
“That would be a lot more reassuring if I wasn’t on fire right now.”
She pressed herself against the wall, trying to edge back from the flames. The raindrops – which were going to such lengths to avoid falling on her – hissed and spat as they fell into the fire. Mallory pulled his hands away from Vin, muttering as Vin helped him up. The fire susbsided; the flames were gone.
Alice stared at Gwyn. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic.”
“I don’t suppose you’d like to fill me in on what the hell that was all about, would you? You know, seeing as I’m the one who seems to turn into the human torch every time someone socks Mallory...”
“What?” Mallory was leaning on the opposite wall. “What have I got to do with it?”
“Precisely,” said Gwyn. “But Alice has worked it out, haven’t you?”
“The first time... It was when Mallory healed my head. His headache.”
“And then?”
“Upstairs.”
“When our charming little friend shot him. And again when he healed Drial, and now...” Gwyn spread his hands to indicate the alley.
Mallory stared at Alice. “Every time I feel pain.”
“I think so.” She nodded.
Mallory stared at her for a while longer, then laughed, throwing his head back. “Then you’re going to have to get used to it, because that happens a lot.”
Vin cleared his throat. “Why him, though? What’s so special about Mallory? No offence, mate,
but, you know...”
“Think, Vhnori,” said Gwyn.
Vin pulled a face. “Stop calling me that. No-one calls me that. Except you.”
“Quite, Vhnori.”
Alice knew. “It’s my mother, isn’t it?”
“Bingo.” Gwyn nodded. “Seket was an empath. Raphael’s choir, which – of course – is why Mallory is here. You connect with his pain because you are both connected. It’s instinct: nothing more.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that given time, it won’t just be Mallory. It could be anyone. Earthbound, human, Descended... perhaps even Fallen.” He jumped forward and snatched up her hands, turning them over in his, examining them. “Don’t you see? If you can control it...”
“No.” She snatched her hands back. “No. I don’t want it.”
“What?”
“Take it back.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Take it back, you hear me?” She pushed past him, past Vin, to Mallory who sagged against the wall. “Take it back, please!” She held her hands out to him. “I don’t want it. I don’t. I can’t.”
She ran out of words. The rain drifted past her, around her, but the tears still ran down her face. Mallory glanced up at Gwyn, his face dark, then pulled Alice into his shoulder, wrapping his arm around her, smoothing her hair as she wept.
CHAPTER TEN
Gambler’s Ruin
THE BAR WAS almost empty. This was good. He hadn’t been able to face the Halfway, not after seeing Alice in the alleyway, so he had simply walked into the first bar he had found in the other direction. Apart from the man at the corner table who was singing quietly to what was left of a pint of beer, Mallory was the only customer. Or at least, he had been...
“Hullo, Mallory.”
“You have until I count to ten to get out of my face. After that, you’ll be wearing your own backwards.”
“You’ve not lost your charm, have you?” The man from the photographs leaned against the bar next to Mallory, tapping his fingers in an irregular, irritating rhythm.
Mallory moved his glass away and started counting. “Ten. Nine. Eight...”
“Always in such a rush to throw the first punch. And when I’m here to do you a favour, too.” Rimmon made a tutting noise and wagged a finger at Mallory, as though he were admonishing a naughty child.
Mallory snorted. “The only way you’d be doing me a favour is if you go and f –”
“Mallory...” Rimmon cut him off, but Mallory didn’t care. He emptied his glass down his throat and gestured to the barman for a refill.
“I told you. Piss off. I’m busy.”
“Look, I’m not here to fight with you.”
“Shame.”
“You don’t like me. I get that.”
“Don’t like you? Rimmon, you’re lucky you’ve still got a head. I’ve not exactly had an easy evening, and you’ve featured in that already, by the way. So right now, I’m a poster boy for self-control. Whether or not I like you is irrelevant.”
“Alright. I get the message. You’re in one of those moods.”
“Stop talking like you know me. Could you just do that? That one thing?”
“But I do know you, Mallory. Remember?”
“Fuck off. Again.”
“I could make a deal for you. I like you. I always did, despite the circumstances.” Rimmon had clearly decided that charm was the way to go.
Mallory wasn’t in the mood for charm, “Really? You’ve got a funny way of showing it, joining up with the Fallen. Landing me down here. I can see how that translates as giving a shit.”
“And I feel bad about it, I do. So let me help you. They gave you, what, a hundred years? Two?”
“Five. Five hundred years as an Earthbound.”
“And for what? Losing a half-born?”
“Wouldn’t you just love that?” Mallory laughed. “You were only the start of a slippery, shit-covered slope that ended with Gabriel taking me to pieces. You just came under the heading ‘incompetence.’ My personal favourite,” he said, his voice hard, “was ‘questioning the status quo.’ Like that means anything.”
“You’d be rewarded for that with us. Promoted, not punished. Join us.”
“Yeah, it’s really working out well for you guys, isn’t it?” Mallory said, tapping his wrist.
Rimmon looked down at his brand. “A small price to pay for freedom.”
“Having Lucifer boot you out of your own head whenever he feels like taking a walk? That’s not freedom. I’ll serve my time, thanks.”
“This isn’t an offer I’ll make again, Mallory.”
“Frankly, I don’t give a shit.”
“Things are not what they seem. You think you know what you’re doing, what you’re getting into, but you don’t. You don’t even know the beginning of it.”
“And you’re warning me why, exactly? We’re on different sides now, or have you forgotten?”
Mallory knocked back another drink, and Rimmon sighed. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“Sure it does.”
“Why?”
“Because this is how it is.”
“I could help, if you’d let me. If you’d ever let...”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
“Mallory, you don’t want me as your enemy. I don’t have to be.”
“You already are.”
Rimmon’s face clouded and he drew back slightly, straightening his back and pulling away from the bar. When he spoke again, his voice was chilly. “You won’t win. You can’t.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Doesn’t really matter.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because,” said Mallory, rolling his glass in his hand, “that’s the difference between you and me, Rimmon. I still have hope. What do you have?”
He looked down at the bar. When he looked back up, he was alone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hallowed Ground
“DO YOU HEAR that?”
Gwyn put out his arm to stop them. They were at the end of the road, a few hundred yards from Mallory’s church, when they heard it: a cracking sound. Very faint, but distinct in the quiet of the night. Alice held her breath, straining to pick it out, and Vin shuffled from foot to foot.
“I’ve not heard that sound in a while,” he said.
“No. I would advise that you and Alice take a walk in the other direction. I’ll handle this.”
Gwyn’s wings opened, shivering with electricity, and despite herself Alice hoped no-one was looking out of a window anywhere nearby. Her legs still felt shaky from earlier; from discovering that this spectacular new gift of hers that Gwyn was so enthused about came, ultimately, from other people’s pain. Not from something good, but from something bad. Very bad indeed.
Something inside her had broken in that alley, and she felt like she had cried for hours – leaning on Mallory with the rain pouring down around her. He had taken her by the shoulders and gently drawn her away.
“Alice, you’re who you always were. You’re still the same person. Nothing about you has changed. You just didn’t know all you were.”
“But I don’t want this! Why does it have to be me?”
“Because it’s who you are.” He had dropped his hands and stepped away – calling to Gwyn in that language they used with one another – and vanished into the darkness. All Gwyn would tell her was that Mallory needed to be alone.
And now they were here. In the dark. With the noises.
Vin looked over his shoulder, and cleared his throat. “You know what? I think we’ll be sticking with you.”
Alice followed his gaze down the road and saw three figures standing in the middle of the street, side by side; arms folded and watching their every move. First one, then another, then the third, unfurled tattered, jagged wings.
“I see,” said Gwyn, “Well, I imagine they’re back there for a reason. No doubt there’s someone we’re supposed to see up ahead. Let’
s not keep him waiting.” He flapped his wings once and was airborne, rising above them.
Vin sniffed. “Show-off. Don’t worry,” he said, seeing the look on Alice’s face, “I won’t leave you.”
But his voice wasn’t quite as reassuring as he obviously intended it to be, and he glanced back at the three Fallen. “I think we’d better get a move on.”
They hurried through the church gate, and Alice slammed it behind them.
“What are you doing?” Vin asked, pulling at her arm. “You know it’s not going to make any difference to them? They’re Fallen. They really don’t give a crap about a gate.”
“I know, it just seems...” They peered through the gloom of the churchyard. The trees cast long, shifting shadows: just right for monsters to hide in. A dark shape loomed out at them and Alice caught her breath. Only to realise it was only a memorial statue. A real one, this time. A sound behind her made her jump, but it was only Vin’s wings, twitching in the breeze.
A deep chill washed over Alice, beginning in the pit of her stomach and spreading up through her chest and down into her arms. It felt like... fear.
But not hers.
She looked at Vin. She was feeling what he felt.
Still fighting to control herself, she thought back to what Gwyn had said in the alley: her mother was an empath. He had mentioned a name – Seket. Was that her mother’s true name? Really? She was an empath. Mallory was an empath, which was why she connected with him... but what if she was starting to connect with others now? Like Vin?
“Vin?”
“What?” His voice was little more than a whisper.
“Can you... I don’t know. Can you try and... man up a little, please?”
“You what now?”
“I can feel your fear.”
“Really?”
