Maybe it was the fact that Covell had been rescued, and this had lifted the mantle of stress hanging over Raphael’s head, but he had changed over the past week. Ever since the news of his mentor’s kidnapping Raphael had been quiet at some times, and absent most others. Present, but not exactly, his inner light dim, and almost unreachable. But now, as he turned me on my back and, kneeling before me, brought me to orgasm after orgasm, I found myself able to feel him again, and it was magnificent. Raphael had been returned to me, his energy had been restored, and he had chosen to share that with me, not out of gratitude for having helped rescue his mentor, but simply because he wanted to.
Though Raphael had done a fantastic job at killing the nerves I had been feeling regarding Dante’s impending arrival, the distraction did mean that instead of being ten minutes early to meet Kyle, I was more than twenty minutes late. I had only managed to read the messages he had left me after Raph and I had finished having our fun, and while seeing Kyle’s frustration escalate through his text messages had put a smile on my face, seeing him frowning in the lobby, his arms folded in front of his chest, made the smile turn into something like a contrite grimace.
I hopped down the last step and walked up to him, my head low. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“Save your apology,” he said, “I can smell the sex on you from a mile away. I know when I’ve been pushed aside for a booty call.”
“I didn’t mean to, it sort of just happened…”
He shook his head, disapprovingly. “You with your damn harem… you’re lucky I’m not a prude, otherwise we’d have trouble.”
I kissed him lightly on the cheek. “I’m lucky you aren’t a lot of things. Does this mean you don’t want to go out anymore?”
“Are you kidding me? Why else would I have waited down here for you?”
“Because you wanted to tell me off for being late?”
“No, what I want is to go to Camden, which, by the way, is more for your benefit than mine, I’m still trying to decide whether or not I forgive you for being late.”
“We both know you’re going to forgive me.”
“We know nothing of the sort! But I’m willing to forgive you, if you give me all of the dirty details about what just happened.”
“All of the dirty details?”
“That’s right, sister. Because that’s a sexy piece of man you’ve just climbed up and down like a flag pole, and living vicariously through you is about my only chance at knowing what that’s even like.”
“You really want to know?”
“Of course I do!”
“Alright,” I said, holding out my arm. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Kyle linked with me, and together we shuffled out of the Alexandria and into the cold, overcast streets of London.
CHAPTER THREE
If you’re a certified member of the rock and or alternative scene, then odds are no matter where you are in the western world, you’ve heard of Camden Town. It’s the part of London where, for some strange, mystical reason, everyone with a bit of black in their heart and something to sell decided to set up shop.
I had wanted to visit this place like it was the final stop on a great pilgrimage, and walking through it, I couldn’t have been happier. Everywhere I looked there were clothes shops selling everything from gothic dresses, to steampunk attire, to witchcraft supplies. A small shop offered “crystals and tarot readings”, while the one next to it suggested you could find out who you were in a past life for £20. Next to that there was a record store which sold actual vinyl records from the 70’s and 80’s, and the old record players on which to play them on. There wasn’t a single modern pop CD in sight, and that was pretty awesome.
Everywhere I went, the smell of incense—or weed—seemed to permeate the air, and that was all before we’d even reached Camden Market, which boasted the ultimate collection of artwork you’d never see in big chain stores. On sale there were sketches, collages, paintings, sculptures, puppets, and even more pieces of eccentric fashion you’d only wear for a photoshoot.
I had in the space of an hour blown through a whole bunch of money I hadn’t planned on spending, but I had with me three bags worth entirely unique items I wouldn’t have been able to find anywhere else in the world. Okay, fine, there were a ton of markets back in Seattle where you could grab unique, artsy items, but these had a notable British charm to them that was impossible to replicate.
After grabbing a coffee at the Starbucks at the end of the Camden high street, we decided to call it a day and start making our way back to the Alexandria. My arms were getting tired anyway. Kyle was talking to me about a past summoning of his that had gone entirely wrong as we walked along, arm in arm. As strange as the conversation was, it probably wasn’t the strangest to be taking place in this part of town.
“Wait a second,” I said to Kyle, “So, what’s the difference between a botched summoning and what happened last week with the green spirit thing?”
“Haven’t you been paying attention?”
“I think I have, but I don’t have any idea how your magic works, or how spirits even work.”
“Then be smarter, because spirits are like herpes—they’re everywhere, they stick to you, and once they do you’re never really free of them no matter what you do.”
“I don’t need to understand them, I’m a succubus. My domain is the flesh.”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “You can tell yourself that all you want, but it’s not true, and in this realm, ignorance isn’t bliss. Anyway, do you want me to tell you what happened next or not?”
“Yes, please.”
“Alright, so the attic was on fire by this point—”
“The attic in Claire’s house.”
“Yes, Claire’s house! Anyway, so the attic was on fire, which meant we had at least driven out the cold we’d almost died from, but this spirit was just getting stronger and stronger, and by this point Claire had passed out from the smoke, so I thought the best thing to do was to try and call a water spirit to fight the fire spirit.”
“Dude…”
“Yeah, I know. I’d already botched one summoning ritual, was I really going to try it again and risk botching another one? Thing is, botching it was exactly what I wanted to do.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because when you want to summon a spirit, you need to present it with whatever it is the spirit needs; so, you give a fire spirit fire, a water spirit water. It then takes whatever it is it needs, manifests, and helps you.”
“This isn’t what happened back at the Alexandria that time.”
“No, that was different. I wasn’t summoning a random spirit that time—I was calling one I already knew. But that’s not important! The important thing is, when you botch a summoning ritual like I did with the fire spirit, the thing tends to go ballistic, and elementals are the worst. They take the element they’re made of, and they just produce a whole bunch of it, which is why the fire spirit blew up. If I could get a water spirit to do the same thing…”
“You could put the fire out in one go.”
“Exactly.”
“Did it work?”
“No, it didn’t, I actually died in that fire.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, I’m actually a ghost. Of course it worked! I botched two summonings in a row that night, the first one caused the problem, the second one fixed it.”
“Go figure. Two wrongs can make a right.”
“That’s not what you should take from this, hunty.”
“Oh? What should I take from it?”
“Never try to summon a fire spirit while you’ve been drinking, no matter how cold it gets.”
“That’s good advice. You should write a manual on being a good summoner. I could see it becoming an instant bestseller.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. I tried my hand at writing once and it didn’t work out. I get a little crazy when I have a pen in my hand.”
“Really? I’d love to
read something you’ve written.”
“Yeah? Well, you’ll have to wait until I’m dead, then you’ll have to go to my grave, pry the coffin open, and peel my scribbles from my cold, dead hands.”
I shrugged. “I don’t mind getting a little dirty.”
We crossed the road at the other end of the high street, where a street juggler on a unicycle was throwing knives into the air and catching them effortlessly.
“Speaking of getting dirty,” Kyle said, “I noticed you conveniently asked me to take you to Camden today, at exactly this hour. Might that have anything to do with mister Dante’s impending return?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“Really? You expect me to believe that you aren’t out here avoiding him?”
“What do you want me to tell you?”
“The truth. You haven’t spoken to him since that night, so why are you avoiding him right now?”
A long, drawn-out sigh escaped my lips. “Because I… I’m afraid.”
Kyle glanced at me. “Afraid of what?”
“Afraid of what he might have to say… or not say… I don’t know, it’s stupid, but I don’t want to hear it.”
“But you do.”
“Yeah, okay, I do, but I also don’t. It’s all a big fucking mess in my head right now.”
“I’m sure it is, but I don’t think you need to worry about what he might say or not say before you’ve given him the chance to say… or not say… it. Know what I mean?”
“I do. I told you, it’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid. It’s actually a totally normal thing to do.”
“Avoiding people?”
“I’m talking about your case specifically. He got up and left the next morning, and you haven’t seen him again, so naturally you’re afraid that he’s going to tell you he actually doesn’t like you, or something along those lines. Not that you need another man, especially a delicious fucking piece like Dante, barking up your tree, but I think that’s what it is.”
“And if it is?”
“Then you need to tell that little voice in the back of your head that it can go and eat a dick. I may be new to your little group of friends, but I could sense the chemistry between the two of you back when we weren’t even talking. I have a gift for that kind of thing. Can’t use it on myself to save my own life, but I’m good at using it on other people.”
“I don’t know… I want to believe what you’re saying, but…”
Kyle shrugged. “You aren’t going to change your mind about this no matter what I say. I can tell you’ve made up your mind. Just remember, it’s better to rip the bandage off quickly than peel it off slowly. Hurts less that way.”
“Yeah… maybe.”
I started thinking about Dante again, only this time putting some real thought into the matter. I had just admitted to have been avoiding Dante, as well as the reason for it, and that had given me new perspective; I was worried of what he would say, or wouldn’t say, and that meant I’d just looked at a kink in my own armor for the first time. Dante was a source of insecurity and anxiety where the others, Aiden, Raph, Vik, and Liam, weren’t. The only problem was, I had no idea why Dante in particular threw me off balance as much as he did, which meant the only real question was, what the hell was I going to—oof.
Someone shoved into me hard enough to push me back, and I had to drop one of the bags in my hand because a folder had been pressed against my chest by whoever it was that had run into me. I stared at the folder in my hand, then turned around to see who it was, but there was only the crowd, weaving around itself, people crossing the road, others watching the juggling, others just walking along the sidewalk on this busy high street.
“What the fuck?” I asked, still searching for the person who had bumped into me.
“Did you see who did that to you?” Kyle asked.
I shook my head. “No… I didn’t.”
My eyes went to the ominous folder that had been placed in my hands, and I noticed now that it wasn’t a folder at all, but a sealed, unmarked envelope, roughly the size of a standard A4 piece of paper. I held it out in front of me like it was some foreign, alien object, my heart pounding rapidly within my chest.
“What the hell is that?” Kyle asked.
“Whoever hit me shoved this into my hands.”
“Don’t open it… could be any number of nasty things.”
“Yeah, but what else am I supposed to do with it?”
“I don’t know. Toss it. Maybe someone made a mistake.”
“I… don’t think this was a mistake, Kyle.”
I scanned around me again, trying to look for anyone who may be watching, but the press of people was thick, and that meant finding whoever had done this was impossible. Kyle, of course, was right—there could have been anything inside of that envelope, but it felt slim, and in fact, I thought the contents of the envelope were small, and square. Tough, but thin and bendable; like small pieces of cardboard.
“I have to open it,” I said, already reaching for the uppermost corner of the envelope.
Kyle grabbed the bag I had dropped, then tugged on my arm. “Fine, but let’s do it over there.”
He led me to the mouth of a small alley leading to a dead end. A scraggy looking cat was sitting on a garbage dump, grooming itself. It stopped, looked up at us, its tongue sticking out, then darted away into the space behind the dump.
“Okay,” I said, swallowing hard.
I stuck a nail into the top of the envelope, then slid it across, ripping the envelope open. No powders came rushing out, neither did any harmful magic, and when after a couple of seconds of waiting, nothing had happened, I decided to reach inside and pull the papers that were in there out into the daylight.
My heart leapt into my throat. They were photographs, high resolution, taken with a professional camera, likely from a distance, but close enough to make the photos carry an air of invasiveness, of intrusion. The first shot was of Madeline. She was standing outside of the Alexandria, talking to what looked like the Keeper, only I couldn’t see the face of the man she was with. Either the zoom on the camera was incredible, or the person who took the shot was standing on the other side of the courtyard, just beyond the main gate.
The second shot was of Laura. She was walking down a street at night, hugging her coat shut, a scarf wrapped around her neck to keep the cold away. I didn’t recognize the street itself, but noticed immediately how the shooter couldn’t have been more than twenty feet away from her—again, assuming a professional zoom lens hadn’t been used.
I handed the picture of Madeline to Kyle. “What is this?” Kyle asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, flipping to the next photograph. This one was of Caitlyn, and it was a shot of her in her bedroom, sitting by the window, her face tucked into a book. Clearly that was her favorite spot to read because of the way the light was hitting the book, and the side of her face.
Dread gripped my throat as my fingers began tugging at the next picture in the envelope. There were two more, and after the three I had just seen, one of them, I knew, maybe even the one I had now gripped between my thumb and forefinger, had to have me on it. It just had to. Kyle reached for Caitlyn’s picture, catching me by surprise, and yanked it out of my hand to get a better look at it, and then I was staring at a photograph of me.
I remembered the day this must have been taken. It was two days after Dante had left. Madeline had lifted the lockdown, and I had decided to go for a walk around the local area of Leicester Square. I had stopped in the square itself, in front of the movie theatre where London premiers were held, had watched the street performers working for tips despite the frigid cold, and had brushed shoulders with the sheer volume of tourists pouring through the area every single second.
There was a point where I had decided to sit down and stare at my cell, contemplating whether or not I should simply call Dante and talk to him like an adult. It was then, me sitting, on
e leg over the other, with my phone in my hand, that someone had taken a picture of me, and considering how many people there were, and the angle of the shot itself, I could have looked directly up and seen the photographer. Maybe I had, and I just couldn’t remember anymore, because who remembers a single face in one of the busiest crowds, in one of the busiest spots, in all of England?
“Holy shit,” I said, “Someone took this one of me.”
Kyle stared at the pictures in his hands, and then at the one of me. “Shit is right. We need to get these back to the Alexandria right now.”
“Wait… there’s one more.”
I looked up at Kyle, who nod, hesitantly, then I handed the picture of me over to him, revealing the last piece of paper that had been in the envelope. It was a simple, white sheet of A4, and on it was as digitally drawn picture of a snake with another head for a tail, both heads meeting in the middle; the exact same image I had seen burned into the floor of the mansion in Germany.
CHAPTER FOUR
Every second spent above ground, between Camden and the Alexandria, was spent trying to get through to Madeline, Leo, or even the Keeper, but no one was answering their phones. Of course, there was one person who always had his phone on him, without fail, and while he hadn’t answered my phone call when I made it last week, he would answer the phone call today; a niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach told me this was true.
Instead of calling Dante, I decided to send him a message once we’d stepped out of the underground at King’s Cross station, only a few minutes’ walk from the Alexandria. It wasn’t a request, or a question—I wasn’t interested in how his trip had gone, or if he was free, or where he was. I wanted him to go to his room, and wait for me. Right now.
I didn’t get an answer to my message, but I wasn’t expecting one. I knew he had seen it, just like I knew he had seen my phone call and had chosen not only not to answer the call, but also not to call me back. If he was back at the school like I was told he would be, then I could count that he was going to do as I had demanded.
Serpent's Hold (The Last Serpent, Book 5) Page 2
