“Sometimes there doesn’t need to be a reason,” Peyton said after a pause. “Sometimes people are just evil.”
“Maybe.”
It took an hour for them to report and hand over, the paperwork side being dealt with at another time. Mouth dry she made it to intensive care, finding Sam’s room with little effort.
“Can someone call security please!” A doctor shouted to a panicked nurse, the phone receiver already at her ear.
The anti-violence enchantment that adorned the walls glowed red, blurring as it activated. Xavier stood over Sam, mouth open and sharp teeth barred. He snarled, and Sam began to convulse.
“SECURITY!”
Alice held out her hand. “Wait, he’s trying to help.”
Sam suddenly shifted into his leopard, his animal pissed off and angry as he staggered to his feet, confused.
“AGAIN!” Xavier roared, claws piercing the mattress as he gripped the edge of the hospital bed. “SHIFT AGAIN!”
The enchantments on the walls began to throb, confusing Xavier’s Alpha effect with violence. He was pulling an aura, forcing Sam to shift between one shape and the next to jump start his healing. The shift back to human was slow, slower than usual as each bone broke and reformed in to the correct shape. Skin appeared to grow from nowhere, starting at the balls of his feet and working its way up his legs. Alice looked away, hating the part in the middle where there was neither fur or flesh to cover the exposed bone and muscle.
Security appeared, nudging Alice out of the way before she caught them at the door.
“WAIT!” she shouted, blocking them with her arm. She called her magic and the anti-violence enchantment shot like a bullet through her skull. Alice clenched her jaw through the pain. “Stop it!” she cried with a defiant sort of despair. “He’s helping.”
She rounded on the two guards, her hand ablaze in warning. It was dangerous to interfere with a shifter mid-shift, especially as it was Xavier who was controlling the shift as Sam had thankfully passed out.
The security guards stepped back, wary. Xavier prowled into the hall, eyes that of his tiger as he bared his sharp teeth in warning.
“Sir, you’re going to have to leave,” the one on the right said, hand close to the taser on his hip. “And you too, ma’am.”
“I will leave,” Xavier said after a pregnant pause, his tone gravel-rough. “But she stays with my leopard.” He pointed to Alice.
The guards shared a flicker of uncertainty. The left guard dropped his gaze to the floor, a shifter.
“I think that’s quite enough,” a nurse said, moving the guards away once the situation had settled. The enchantments stabilised into their patterns now there was no longer a threat of violence.
“You,” Xavier snapped at Alice for her attention. “Is the one who did this dead?”
Alice lifted her chin, the pain in her head gone but the metallic taste at the back of her tongue still prominent. “No. She’s been arrested and will likely be executed by The Magicka.”
Xavier’s warning smile turned into a snarl. “That wasn’t what we agreed. She’s mine to kill. Flesh for flesh.” Stripes appeared across his tanned skin.
“There was another, a black witch involved.” It was only a second, but Alice knew who it was.
“Tell me.” A demand from the Alpha amongst Alpha’s.
“She’s called Christine Shade, and she’s one of Frederick’s.”
Xavier’s smile stretched, making her blood run cold. It was hard to believe he was both man and animal, because all Alice ever saw was the brute tiger.
Without a word he stalked out.
She knew her debt had been paid for saving Rex. It was the Breed way, to offer a favour as payment. It showed integrity and was the preferred way amongst the older Breed.
“You can go in now,” a nurse quietly said as Alice found herself staring into the window. “He’s stable.”
“Thank you,” she replied automatically. “Oh, his friend, the other man…”
The nurse tightened her smile. “I’ll find out for you.”
Sam lay on his back, his now shorter blonde strands a halo against the stark whiteness of the pillow. While she had been distracted with the guards someone had dressed him in a hospital gown, his legs bare, the newly formed skin a bright pink. His shift back and forward had helped him recover, and as long as they kept him clean he wouldn’t even scar. Wires attached to his chest, beneath the gown that connected to a machine. From the beeping she guessed it measured his heartrate.
He groaned in his sleep, his hand twitching as if reaching out. Alice carefully curled herself onto the bed beside him, resting her head on the corner of the pillow. She stretched her legs, arms wrapped around herself as tears burned her eyes. She listened to his steady breathing, thankful that he had survived.
She wouldn’t know what to do if she had lost him. It was Sam who had brought her back from the safe space in her mind, the place she created to protect herself as a child. And in return she had taught him to love himself, to see himself as someone of worth and not what his father taught him to be. He was her sunlight in a world of darkness, her partner in crime.
She closed her eyes, arms tightening around herself as if she could hold herself together, conscious not to touch him.
She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew fingers brushed though her hair.
“Hey, baby girl,” Sam quietly whispered, his face red and puffy from crying.
“Sunshine,” she whispered back, telling him how much he meant to her, and that she had almost lost him.
Sam smiled, but it was edged with sorrow. “As you are my starlight.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Ash never woke up, and they don’t think he ever will.”
Alice caught the sob in her throat. “I’m sorry.”
Sam nodded, his skin stretched across his cheekbones as tears came hot and fast. “The doctor said I’ll be fine, I had shifted in time before there was any lasting damage.” Sam swallowed hard, eyes darting around the room. She could feel his panic building.
“Hey, hey, look at me.” She tangled her fingers in his shorter hair, keeping his attention. “I’m here, you’re okay.”
Sam didn't deal well with hospitals, not since spending so much time in one as a child. She watched the abuse he suffered at the hand of his father flash across his eyes, the cuts, bruises and broken bones. Shifters didn't scar, yet Sam was covered in faint silver lines. It was a punishment, that if he cried his father would put salt into the wounds, sealing them into his flesh forever. He had embraced his past as much as he could, used it to build himself into a strong, independent man who made Alice proud.
“Look at me,” she kept saying even as his pulse raced, visible against his throat. “I was thinking we should run away.”
Sam blinked, a small smile tilting his upper lip at her attempt of a distraction. “Run-away where?”
Alice shrugged, as much as she could from her position on her side. “I don’t know, somewhere hot where no one knows us. We won’t have a house for much longer, so the timing is perfect.”
“You moan every year that your skin burns, and you get freckles across your nose.” He bopped her nose in emphasis. “And there is someone here you wouldn’t want to leave. Someone who may even let you move in with him.”
Alice settled herself back down onto the pillow. “You’re all I need.”
Sam chuckled, but his breathing became laboured, eyes rounder. “You don’t run away, baby girl. You meet destiny head on, it’s what makes you better than everyone else.”
Alice subtly clicked the nurse call button. “Maybe destiny can go fuck themselves.”
“That I agree with.” The heartrate machine beeped loudly.
A nurse came in, silencing one of the machines. “Mr Murphy, are you okay?”
Panic overwhelmed at the sight of the nurse, Sam pulling at the wires attached to his chest.
“Sam, look at me again.” Alice forced his attent
ion once more. “It’s just you and me.”
Sam breathed in, then out. “I’m okay.” He closed his eyes. “I’m okay.” He began to shake.
“I’ll go get a doctor,” the nurse said, running out of the room.
“I hate hospitals,” he murmured after a few minutes.
“They hate you back.”
Sam snorted.
The nurse reappeared, followed by a doctor. “Mr Murphy, we’re going to give you something to help you sleep.”
Sam didn’t acknowledge the doctor, keeping his eyes closed until they had left, the medicine injected into his drip.
“I’m okay,” he repeated. “I’m okay.”
Alice stroked through his hair, watching his eyelids twitch until she thought he was asleep.
“Guess it was my time to be broken,” he mumbled with a deep sigh.
Alice wanted to smile, but she couldn't seem to do it. “I’m sure it won’t be long before it’s my turn again.”
Chapter 23
Alice double checked the address on the sticky note, then looked down at the pavement at her feet. Lines had been raised to look like an eye, the same artistic design as her key.
With a frown she checked the two buildings beside it, both tall glass and steel towers with a steady flow of people. The oversized door she stood at, on the other hand, appeared to have no one enter or exit for the last thirty minutes. It looked out of place with its Victorian style and colourful stained-glass features, and when she approached, the sign simply read ‘I.’
Alice reached for the long brass handle, the door swinging open as a man stood in the doorway. He slowly stepped aside, holding the door as Alice entered, closing it immediately behind and resuming his position in the corner, hands clasped in front of him. His suit was black, tailored and expensive.
“Welcome to I,” the woman behind the only desk greeted. “Please could you sign in.” She produced a book, heavy enough it made a thwack noise when she placed it on the wood. The pages were old, worn and blank.
“What is this place?” Alice asked, looking around.
The room itself was thin and long with black and white chequered tiles. They climbed half way up the walls before changing to just white. Other than the desk, there was nothing else, the room completely bare. There wasn’t even a computer or phone, just the single book.
“Sign in, please.” The receptionist placed a quill down, the tip a shiny black.
Alice carefully picked up the quill, the feather long, white and surprisingly heavy. With the tip she signed her name, date and then hesitated. “I’m sorry, I don’t know the time.” There wasn’t a clock.
The ink immediately disappeared, leaving the page blank once more.
The receptionist stared, her perfectly painted lips a bright red. “Purple or green?”
“Excuse me?”
“Purple or green?” the receptionist repeated, turning her head slightly to the left, to indicate the purple door that Alice hadn’t noticed, then slightly to the right, to indicate the green door.
“Huh? Oh!” Alice rummaged in her bag, finding the key. It had separated, so she clicked the two pieces back together. “Purple.” She held it up so the light from the fixture high on the ceiling shone through.
A click, the green door changing back to chequered tiles.
“Your number is three-hundred and sixty-two. If you would follow me.”
The purple door opened into a perfectly circular room, including a round table in the middle. The walls were cut into various sized numbered squares, the number three-hundred and sixty-two already sticking out. Right in the centre of the square, below the number was a keyhole.
“Let me know if I can be of any assistance.” The receptionist made no noise as she left, the purple door sealing behind her.
Alice stood, her stomach recoiling, clenching as she touched the outside of the box. It was shiny, metal but textured like a soft suede. She carefully lifted it from its section, placing it on the table in the centre. The key slid in without any resistance, the box hot to touch as she turned it with a click. The lid popped, opening.
Hand shaking, she lifted the lid, vomit fragrant on her tongue as her stomach continued to twist. She could hear whispers, voices too quiet to distinguish as she lifted the first piece of paper.
She studied the photograph of Dread and her parents.
Her mum stood in the middle, smiling to the camera with both her arms wrapped around her husband, Alice’s father and Dread. Her stomach was swollen, heavy and her feet bare as she dug her toes into the thick grass.
Dread grinned from ear to ear, fangs showing as he held a ‘It’s a boy!’ balloon in a tight fist. Beneath were more images of her family, of Kyle as a child, and then Alice a few images after. Dread appeared in some, looking younger even though she knew that was impossible because vampires didn’t age.
End them.
Alice jumped back, frantically looking around the sealed room. She was alone, yet she could still hear the voices, the whispers.
End them all.
Was she losing her mind?
With a deep breath she closed her eyes. The voices faded, but her stomach ache remained.
The door hissed open.
Alice turned, frozen as the receptionist walked in with a large glass of water. She carefully placed it on the table without looking down, head straight. She left without a word.
Alice groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.
What was wrong with her?
She pushed the glass away, instead reaching inside for the next set of photographs. More of her father, some alone, working at a desk while others were with a group of men she didn’t recognise.
“Is that…”
Alice frowned at one photograph in particular. “Ugh.” She crumpled it up, not wanting to see the relationship between Mason and her father.
The last thing in the box was an A4 brown envelope, a small bulge at the bottom. She tipped the envelope upside down, hand stretched out as something hit her palm.
FIND THE OTHERS.
Alice collapsed to her knees, throat constricting as she heaved.
FIND THE OTHERS.
FIND THE OTHERS.
FIND THE OTHERS.
FIND THE OTHERS.
FIND THE OTHERS.
Heat burned her palm, her chi igniting with an overwhelming strength that rattled the surrounding boxes. The photographs flew from the table, all floating to the floor.
She immediately dropped the coin, it rolling until it landed against the wall with a thud.
It was her seal.
“What the fuck!”
Alice crawled on her knees, scooping it up with the envelope, careful not to touch it with her bare skin. Slapping the envelope onto the table she guzzled the water, drinking every last drop.
“Shit.”
Bending down she picked up every photo, noticing a piece of paper with bold, black writing.
Marc Jacobson
Jamison Smith
Daly Judd
Glenn Herbert
36 Matlier Road, Berkshire
89 Priv Avenue, York Dire
49 Whitby Road, Little Birmingham
Unit 102-106 Guild Street, London
Alice frowned, flipping the piece of paper over. It was another photograph, a grainy image of a man huddled in a large coat. It had rained, the camera picking up the blur of the water droplets as the man had lifted his collar up as protection against the cold. He had turned towards the camera, his eyes looking into the distance as a cigarette glowed orange in his mouth, highlighting his pink tipped nose.
Alice stared, examining every line on the man’s face with great detail.
Dread had kept a big secret.
Because if she believed the photograph, then her father was alive, and according to the time stamp at the bottom the image was taken only a week before her trials, a week before Dread had been executed.
Alice ran out into the open air, her chest constricted
as she struggled for breath. She leant forward, resting her hands on her knees with her head hung low. The envelope was tucked into her bag, the voices quiet as she clutched the photograph of her father.
A microphone was thrust in her face.
“What can you tell me about Mr Storm?”
Click. Click. Click of a camera.
Alice snapped to attention, walking away as the man followed.
“Please answer some questions!” he shouted, drawing attention.
Click. Click. Click.
“Where’s Mr Storm? You guys have an argument? Is that why he isn’t with you? Where did you first meet?”
“No comment.” Alice turned a corner, carefully manoeuvring the busy streets full of well-dressed workers.
“How long have you been dating Mr Storm? Are you serious?” He hounded her with questions. “Look, bitch. If you don’t answer, I’ll just make some shit up and then… AHHH”
His camera burst into flames.
“WHAT THE FUCK!”
Everyone turned to see the commotion.
Alice ran, no longer caring if she hit someone or if she tripped. She just needed to be in a place without so many eyes. Her legs began to burn before she stopped, the crowds dispersed as clouds covered the sun, taking with it the warmth. She was numb as she climbed into a black cab, her chest tight and stomach twisted around a block of ice. She felt the seal through her bag, an unknown, yet familiar presence that begged for her touch.
Phone in hand she scrolled, clicking Riley’s name.
“Alice?” he answered immediately. “Where are you? You’ve not been answering my messages and then the thing with Sam…”
“Shit, I shouldn’t have called you.”
“What’s wrong?”
She had wanted to hear his voice, for him to tell her it was all okay. Alice stared at the back of the drivers chair, voice devoid of emotion. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called you.” “Alice, wait…”
She hung up, quickly finding her brother’s number. The call wouldn’t connect, which meant he was in The Nether.
“Here you go, Ma’am,” the driver said as he pulled up in front of her house. “That will be…”
Knight's War: A Witch Detective Urban Fantasy (Alice Skye series Book 5) Page 17
