‘Is this your family?’ His words were calm, floating softly through the tension. In his hand, a photo of Nicole framed by two older, obviously proud parents.
‘Aye.’ Her Scottish accent forced itself to the surface, causing her to chuckle with embarrassment.
Kevin didn’t notice, his dark eyes transfixed on the photo.
‘My mum and dad are very nice.’
He nodded. Silent. She placed the tray down and looked up at him hopefully, disappointed that his gaze hadn’t wandered in her direction. As he stood staring, a creeping unease slowly began to clutch at Nicole while she poured a coffee.
‘Do you have any family?’ she asked, desperate to break the silence and to try to steer the evening back on course.
‘Not anymore.’ His words were heavy as he gently replaced the photo. ‘Not for a long time.’
He slowly walked to the sofa and sat down next to her, his movements again astounding her with how rigid he was. She offered him a mug which he accepted with a fake smile, the sadness of his previous statement hanging in the air like a morning fog.
The only sound for the next few minutes was the ticking of the clock above the fireplace and the wind clattering against the window. They sat, exchanging the odd glance that was met with a smile by Nicole. Kevin seemed nervous, unable to maintain eye contact.
He had seemed so charming at the bar, Nicole thought, chalking it up to nerves. While she was growing in confidence for the night to end romantically, she assumed he needed to be guided. That his bravado in the bar was simply an act.
Was he really charming at the bar? She tried to recall. Was she just desperate to remove the feeling of failure that she had pinned to herself, ever since she caught Duncan and his secretary in their old bed?
‘You seem distracted,’ he stated, very forthright. He placed the cup down. ‘I should go.’
‘No, wait.’ Nicole shot to her feet as quickly as he did, pacing quickly to the front door of her flat to head him off. ‘What is wrong?’
He didn’t answer, pulling his blazer over his pale yellow shirt, his face stern.
‘I need to leave.’ He reached for the handle. ‘I’m afraid if I stay, you will only get hurt.’
She caught his hand in her own, guiding it and him away from the door, her eyes finally grabbing the attention of his and the magnificent darkness they held.
‘Why? Is there someone else?’ she muttered feebly, scorning herself for feeling pathetic.
‘There is.’ His words were straight to the point. ‘She was taken from me many years ago. They said I would find her again. I just needed to search for her.’
She gently squeezed his hands as she smiled. ‘I’m not afraid of being hurt, and I’m never going to make you compare me to the one you lost.’ She gently brushed the back of his hand against her soft, red cheek. ‘But maybe, maybe I can help you find something?’
He stared at her, his classically handsome face emotionless. She leaned in, his scent almost as intoxicating as his pupilless eyes. Her hand slid around his waist, reaching for the chain that swung from the door. She latched it, the message very clear. She looked up at him.
‘Give me a moment.’
She leant up, her lips pressed against his as she pushed against him. His hands slowly grazed her shapely hips, and she felt her heart start to race.
This was actually going to happen.
She freed herself, quickly walking towards the door to the bedroom, purposely ensuring she wiggled slightly as she walked. It needed to happen now before she changed her mind. Nicole entered and quickly slid out of the tight dress, her body thanking her for freeing it from confinement. Reaching to her hair, she ruffled it up, pulling the rose-covered clip from it and hoping for a more alluring look. Quickly spraying herself with perfume, she applauded herself for having the confidence in wearing her new lacy underwear.
She imagined his strong, powerful arms wrapped around her.
The smell of his body.
The potential to feel wanted again.
She carefully lowered herself onto the bed, adjusting slightly to a more alluring position.
This was it.
It was time to get back on the horse.
‘Come in,’ she called, oblivious to what truly waited for her on the other side of the door.
The urge to leave had been terrific.
As his eyes watched her walk towards the bedroom, he ignored her attempts to allure him with her stride. As she disappeared behind the bedroom door, he slowly bowed his head, gently shaking it.
He would never see her the same again.
That look of innocence.
His neck arched to the side, his eyes locking onto the chain of the door. He could spare her feelings, silently unlatching it and walking away, and the only pain she would feel would be rejection.
Nothing more.
Not like the others.
Not like all the others.
With a judder that betrayed his humanity, Kevin Parker slowly reached a hand towards the chain, the allure of the brisk night air that would greet him growing. He wanted his skin to bathe in the glow of the streetlights.
This one would be spared.
His fingers cut through the air, ready to clasp it, when Nicole’s voice broke his trail of thought.
‘Come in,’ she called.
He froze on the spot.
The words cut through his body, slicing every muscle until it felt like he would collapse. Unfortunately for Nicole, they would only serve as a reminder for his true existence. His real reason for being.
His need to see ‘her’ again.
The fingers retracted from the door, the idea of a moonlight walk and Nicole’s survival slowly collapsing to nothing. His eyes closed as he took a deep breath, turning on his heel, and walking blind towards the door to her bedroom. A mere inch or so from the wooden frame, he stopped, his eyes bursting into life.
The black pupils began to break as if they were leaking into the whites of his eyes and slowly filling them.
Within seconds, both of his eyeballs were entirely jet-black.
He was Kevin Parker no more.
He was the one they had lied to. Had taken everything from. He was not part of their world anymore and could no longer understand their need to interfere.
To take her from him.
On the other side of the door, the young woman lay on the bed, trembling slightly with a cocktail of nerves and anticipation. The thin wooden panel that separated them kept her safe for a few more moments. That was all he would allow.
In one fluid motion, the sole of his foot clattered into the door, flinging it open with a large crack, the hinges powerless to retain order. As the door collided with the wall, he stepped in, confronting the terrified, half-naked woman before him. All of her trust and attraction had vanished instantly as the fear sat her upright.
She opened her mouth to scream.
His hand wrapped around her throat, catching the sound before it could escape. With his fingers tightening, he lifted her clean off the floor, her body swinging like a pendulum in a terrified grandfather clock.
She drew his gaze, and the colour drained from her face. His eyes were jet-black, as if staring into a dark void. The corners of his mouth twisted into a snarl, the gentleman replaced by a feral beast that belonged elsewhere.
Not of this world.
Kevin tilted his head as he stared at her, examining the human before him. Tears raced down her cheeks, each one leaving a small, dark trail of cheap mascara. His gaze fell, his eyes clasping onto her chest, her breasts bulging over a very helpful lace bra.
She began to cough and splutter, trying her best to force words from her mouth. ‘Please … let … me … go,’ she begged. Urine began trickling down the inside of her leg and gently rapping into a fearful puddle below. Slowly, he began to lower her, drawing her terrified face towards him.
‘I must find her.’ His words were whispered, tinged in sadness.
‘W
ho?’ she mustered, the air struggling through the grip of his powerful fingers. Her eyes begged for her release.
He looked away, his slick, side-parted hair shimmering in the lamplight.
‘I am sorry.’
Before she knew what was happening, Nicole found herself soaring towards her mattress, the springs absorbing the impact. His powerful arm still held her down, his fingers pressing her windpipe like a tube of toothpaste. He rose his other hand above her chest as he kneeled beside her.
She stared at him in fear, accepting her fate.
His black eyes conveyed little sympathy.
She felt the searing pain in her chest only briefly, saw a slight splash of blood before everything went black and she left the world.
She would never return.
CHAPTER TWO
‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’
With his breathing struggling to keep up with his feet as he raced to his car, Franklin ‘Bermuda’ Jones burst through the doors to the third floor of the London car park. Dimly lit with the pitiful glow of the halogen lights, his car seemed further than he remembered.
He needed to get in and get the hell out of there.
As he raced across the concrete, he took a few moments to contemplate how he was spending his Saturday night. While most thirty-four-year-old men were either out drinking or cuddled up with the family for film night, he was racing away from a creature our world could never comprehend.
It was only because of his damned curse that he could see it.
That he could see the Otherside.
Born with a genetic condition known as ‘the Knack’, Bermuda was gifted the sight of the world that encased our own. Invisible to the naked eye, the inhabitants of the Otherside, known as Others, walked freely throughout his life, yet he was the only one who could see them meandering through the alleyways and dark corners of London.
The only one who watched their world encompass ours.
The only one who knew the truth.
Soon the scepticism had given way to concern, and he had lost everything. His wife had left him, watching with flowing tears as they took him to his padded cell. Certified as insane, it’s difficult to tell the world you’re not crazy when they have concluded you must be. A crazy person claiming sanity is moot – like an obese person saying they hardly eat a thing.
That was a long time ago. Locked away in that padded cell, cursing the world for their mistake. Losing the respect and love of a woman he would die for and destroying the bond with his beloved daughter.
His Chloe.
As he raced to his car, he thought about her blond hair dancing in the wind, the toothless grin on her six-year-old face as he pushed her on the swing. The slow rebuild of their relationship in the secrecy of carefully planned meetings. Away from the eyes that watched from the shadows.
The eyes of the Otherside.
Working for the Behind the Curtain Organisation (BTCO), the authority that managed the truce between our world and theirs, certainly came with the animosity you would expect. Being the only agent with the ability to physically interact with them painted one hell of a target on your back.
No matter how many cases he solved, how many times he restored the peace, Bermuda knew that the Otherside would come for him. Rich in brutality, it was an existence that had little time for forgiveness or change. The truce, the allowance of refuge for the ‘Others’ in our world, was based on advances in science and medicine that could change humanity.
They saved our species.
We let theirs live outside the human eye.
Now, as he raced to his car, knowing what was about to burst through the doors behind him, he wondered if burning the truce and locking the goddamn gateway was an option.
‘Get in the bloody car!’
Bermuda’s voice was rife with panic as he approached the driver’s door to his black Honda Civic, the dirt forming erratic patterns across the unclean bonnet. His words were meant for the figure who stood before him. The meek offering of light from the ceiling bounced off the immaculate breast plate of his armour. The dark gold that protected him ended at his broad shoulders, which sprung two powerful, muscular arms, the dark skin exposed.
He stood motionless; fear was a trait that had left him long ago.
His face, a mask of calm, housed the two grey eyes which burnt a pathway to the door with a fierce concentration.
Strapped to his back was the blade that had protected our world for years and had saved Bermuda’s life on more occasions than he cared to remember.
Around his wrist, the Retriever – a weapon forged in the other world, which sent many back from whence they came.
Bermuda called to him once more, terror gripping each word as they leapt from his mouth, his handsome face gripped with fear. ‘Argyle!’
His partner didn’t move.
‘Let’s get the fuck out of here.’
The floor rumbled as if the car park was experiencing its very own earthquake. Bermuda had one foot in the car, his head peeking over the roof to his partner, who had been raised as a soldier on the Otherside. Exiled in disgrace for reasons Bermuda had never asked, Argyle’s slowly lifted his hand over his shoulder. Known as a ‘Neither’, an Other who had defected to the protection of humanity, Argyle locked his eyes onto the door.
‘Get out of here.’
His words were emotionless, an instruction. Argyle’s eyes narrowed on the door as his hand gripped the leather-strapped handle of his blade. With a shake of his light-brown-covered head, Bermuda dropped into the driver’s seat, slammed the door, and wrenched the key. The engine roared to life, the lights bursting out and casting Argyle in a majestic silhouette: a fallen angel, ready to face the demon on the other side of the door.
With the tyres screeching like a banshee, Bermuda sped through the car park, a small trail of dust following him like a loyal puppy. The car burst through the concrete block, taking a sharp turn onto the spiral ramp that led to the freedom of the street below.
London wrapped around him at speed, his car racing down the ramp as his foot pressed the pedal to the floor, the lights of the capital whipping by in a frenzied blur.
Behind him, he could hear the doors to the third level being thrown from their hinges, the night-piercing howl of the enormous creature that Argyle had stayed to welcome.
He had never seen an Other that big.
That ferocious.
With his steering wheel locked to the left, he circled down the exit ramp before the car smashed through the security barrier, the red-and-white bar shattering and sprinkling the street like hundreds-and-thousands. Bermuda reached for the handbrake, shunting it up, and letting his car spin on the spot, eventually sliding to a halt.
A few pedestrians watched on in shock, one of them quick dialling the police to report a parking violation.
They couldn’t hear what Bermuda could.
With the window rolled down, he wished he had a cigarette on the go; the soothing, calming pollution of his lungs would have settled his nerves as he listened to the spine-chilling roar of the behemoth and the clanging of Argyle’s sword as he valiantly fought.
No cigarettes anymore. He cursed himself as he raised his electronic cigarette to his lips, the blue light on the end as he inhaled a mocking reminder of his decision to be ‘healthy’.
Another roar ripped through the air, unbeknownst to the watching few, all of them perplexed by his decision to break through the barrier and not speed away into the night. He was used to the staring, people judging him or labelling him insane. It happened all the time, but he was a long way past trying to explain.
A long road away from caring.
‘Where the hell are my goddamn Tic Tacs?’ he muttered to himself, unlatching the glovebox to be met by an avalanche of parking tickets and empty boxes of his beloved mints.
CRASH!
Argyle’s armour was the first thing Bermuda noticed, the reflection of light bouncing off it as he hurtled through the brick wall of the thir
d floor. Within seconds, the mighty warrior collided with Bermuda’s bonnet, denting the metal as he bounced to the ground.
His face was bloodstained, and a large gash opened across his head that was already willing itself shut, much to Bermuda’s continued bemusement. His arms, covered in thick lacerations, pushed against the ground as he pulled himself up.
Bermuda leant out of the window, looking down at his fallen comrade. ‘Need a lift?’
The stone-cold stare through the grey eyes told Bermuda the joke, like so many, didn’t register. Argyle was the most loyal partner he could ask for. But apart from working for the BTCO, they were worlds apart. Yet combining Argyle’s human-like form and his personality, Bermuda couldn’t recall a single person who embodied humanity as his partner did.
Who fought for what they thought was right.
Dusting the debris from his body, Argyle strode purposefully to the passenger door, a mighty hand wrenching it open. The watching public pointed in amazement as Bermuda pulled away. To them, they had witnessed a self-denting, self-opening car, driven by a man who talked to the ground.
Suddenly, their attention – as well as that of the two agents in the now banged-up Honda Civic – was drawn to the giant explosion on the third floor of the car park that sat next to Liverpool Street Station. Brick and metal barrier burst from the wall, showering down upon the street below like a heavy rainfall.
A metal post slammed against a car parked nearby.
Two small rocks hammered against a terrified civilian’s shoulder.
Then suddenly, the earth shook.
Landing on all fours, hidden from the world, the enormous beast slowly recovered from its three-story plunge. Over fifteen feet tall, with hard, jagged bones jutting from its spine, the beast was like none other Bermuda had seen before. Its dark, grey skin was covered in scales, stretched to the limit from its powerful frame. Small spikes, the crooked bones that ruptured through its skin, burst from its joints.
Its skull was large and dome-like, the top of its head smooth like a well-sanded table. Its eyes were feral, the pupilless black balls locked on Bermuda. Its giant jaw, snapping like an alligator, revealed a fine selection of razor-sharp teeth.
Bermuda Jones Casefiles Box Set Page 35
