by TJ Dallas
When I got back to the hotel, I ordered another takeaway pizza, sighing satisfactorily as I finished the final mouthful, sucking the remaining BBQ sauce from my thumb.
I savoured the pride in my new plan. I just needed to find the motherfucker first.
The next day, I found myself standing in front of the Pepperpot Tower. I looked up the white domed building. The plaque in front advised it was built circa 1830, but the original purpose of the tower was unknown. Something resonated in the back of my skull as I studied it, and I wondered whether I had seen it before.
I sighed, turning around and scanning my surroundings. I’d enjoyed a nice stroll through Queen’s Park, but I was getting frustrated with my search. I’d tried upward of two hundred pubs and clubs, fifty along the shore front alone, and I wasn’t having any luck; only five still had CCTV footage from the Pride weekend, and we hadn’t been in any of them. I’d been in Brighton for almost a week now, and my patience was wearing thin.
I didn’t know what I expected. Did I hope to walk into a club, spot a shady-looking man, beat him to a pulp, and be home in time for dinner?
I growled, shaking my head and walking back towards the park. On the other side, towards the shore front, there was a cosy corner pub I liked, and I sauntered towards it, my hands buried deep in my pockets. I needed help with my search, but I refused to ask for it.
With the realisation that I only ever needed myself, I waited until I was sheltered behind a row of trees, out of sight, and closed my eyes.
In perfect synchronicity, my Identical fell into line beside me, blinking against the sudden sunlight. She reached a hand into her pocket but hesitated, raising her eyebrows.
I nodded, and she continued to light up a cigarette. A few people turned their heads as we walked through the park; they would just think we were twins, so I wasn’t concerned. Thankfully, we wore different outfits.
“How’s it going?” she asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
“Not great,” I muttered. “I still can’t remember anything, and only a few of the clubs still have CCTV. I was hoping you, as my subconscious, might remember more.”
She shook her head, and my stomach dropped. We walked in silence for a few more minutes.
“Have you tried opening your mind? You could listen to other people in the pubs, see if you can pick out anything that might be helpful. Do you remember his voice?” she asked.
I rolled my eyes, my frustration rising. “What part of ‘I don’t remember anything’ did you not understand?”
“All right. Don’t get those panties in a twist; I’m trying to help. You really need to get those mood swings in order,” she grumbled.
“I know. Sorry.”
She wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “I’m starving. Do you fancy something to eat? You can treat me; I left my wallet in your subconscious.” She giggled.
“Fine, but you’re not eating anything that remotely resembles chicken. This baby has put me off it for life.”
“No chicken, roger that.” She lifted two fingers to her forehead in a mock salute.
We entered the cosy pub on the corner and found a table near the back. We settled in, and the waiter looked at each of us with surprise as he took our order. He returned quickly with a bottle of beer and my glass of water, and I took a sip, trying to ignore the envy rising in my throat.
“Want some?” the Identical teased, holding the bottle out.
“You’re a bad influence, you know that?”
“I do try, pet.”
I shook my head. I had a month and a half to go. I’d been on the earth for over twenty-six hundred years. What’s another month and a half, right?
We ate our meals, enjoying pleasant conversation about nothing in particular. I informed the Identical she might have to run the Cardinal for a few days when I was due to give birth, and she rolled her eyes. “Do I get a pay rise?”
“You’ll get fuck all.”
“OK, but only because it’s you.” She winked, throwing me a cheeky grin, before meeting my gaze for a heartbeat and quickly questing towards me.
I was silent when she looked away, barely half a second later, but I couldn’t contain myself.
“Has anything changed?” I asked quietly.
The Identical sighed and shook her head. “No,” she said, hesitating for a moment before adding, “Do you want something to have changed?”
I shrugged, and she looked at me curiously but rescued me from having to answer. I don’t think I could have answered, anyway.
“Have you spoken to Althea yet?”
I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “No. Can we talk about something else?”
She nodded, placing her hand on mine and squeezing gently. “It’ll be OK. I promise.”
A lump caught in my throat, and something stirred deep inside me, something powerful that I had no control over. My heart began to thump painfully in my chest, and tears started to gather in the corner of my eyes, but I blinked them away furiously. Clearing my throat, I quickly stood up and said, “I better get going.”
“Keep me updated.”
“Obviously,” I replied. “I can’t keep anything from you. Sometimes, I wish I could,” I added with a small smile.
I stood at the bar, waiting to pay, as I watched the Identical walk towards the bathrooms. Once she was out of sight of everyone, I dropped my concentration and knew she was gone. I was alone once more.
Or rather, not as alone as I may have hoped.
As I waited for the bartender to take my payment, my hand rested lightly on my abdomen. For the first time in a week, I kept my composure steady as I felt the baby move against my palm.
I took a few slow breaths, refusing to allow the panic to get the better of me. I waited, my palm against my belly. I didn’t know what I waited for, but for some reason, I’d know it if it happened. I chewed the inside of my cheek, deep in thought, when the baby moved again. A minuscule, almost apologetic nudge against my hand.
I had the strangest feeling right then, that it was just the two of us. No one else in the world, just me and … Him? Her? They?
I stroked my thumb across the fabric of my T-shirt, the tiny swell of my belly still barely noticeable, even to me. I pressed my palm down more firmly, tenderly trying to determine what position the baby was in. It wasn’t digging into my ribs, nor flattening my bladder for the first time in what felt like forever, and for the briefest moment, I was content. My heart swelled a little, and I massaged the curve of my hip, trying to decide if my assessment of its position was correct.
The foot pressing gently against me was irrefutable. I ran the pad of my thumb over what I imagined to be a tiny footprint against my skin; a tender movement, but the contentedness disappeared in a flash as a realisation hit me.
This was a whole new life nestled deep inside me. I was carrying the tiniest of tiny people, who had no one else in the world to rely on for protection. This baby was as real as I was.
And that thought suddenly terrified me.
The waiter appeared in front of me, yanking me roughly from my thoughts. My eyes widened, my heart thudding painfully, before I remembered to clumsily rifle through my wallet for cash. He rang everything through the till as my stomach knotted, my breath getting shallower.
The baby stopped moving, and I swallowed hard. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” I muttered quietly, forcing my emotions back into line.
“Excuse me?” the waiter asked, and I shook my head.
“Nothing. Sorry. I was just … thinking out loud.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair.
The Identical knew me better than anyone, and she could use her questing abilities to know what lay at the bottom of my heart. I was able to search anyone else’s soul that deeply, but I couldn’t see within myself. The phenomenon was similar for mortals; their head says one thi
ng, their heart another, but sometimes, neither of them are right. Or potentially, one of them was, and I could identify with absolute certainty which one was the primal, powerful, most desirable path to take. My talents were able to clarify their deepest desires, their most powerful loves, their mind-numbing worries, and their worst paralysing fears. I was never wrong, and neither was my Identical.
I trusted her with my life; if she said that I didn’t have the capacity to love this baby unconditionally, then that was the truth. My heart broke at the thought, an overwhelming sadness creeping up inside me, and I inadvertently grazed the underside of my abdomen as I moved to zip up my jacket.
One final kick in response.
I shook my head and stuffed the receipt into the pocket of my jeans as I left the pub, contemplating my next option. It was getting late in the day now, almost five o’clock, and I headed towards another bar. Althea had said it had been the end of the night when everything had taken place, so I needed to find somewhere that was open past midnight.
I found the local Club Sin and couldn’t help but smile at the name as I entered. I looked around. It was busy already, but I found an empty bar stool and sat down. The bartenders were occupied, so I leaned forward on my elbows, focusing my mind. I would try what the Identical had suggested, but I wasn’t optimistic. I closed my eyes, took a slow, deep breath, and then dropped the walls around my thoughts.
Voices resonated in my mind: female, male, high-pitched and deep, children and foreign. I listened carefully, unsure what to expect.
Why hasn’t Greg called me? … I can’t believe it’s Monday tomorrow; I’ve got so much work to do … I want the chicken nuggets … That T-shirt is really tight …
I opened my eyes at that one, quickly catching a woman watching me. She blushed and turned away.
I need to book the car in for its MOT … My boss is such a twat … This fish tastes off … I really should have ironed this skirt …
I buried my head in my hands, sighing as the boring, mundane lives of everyone around me bounced around my skull.
But I craved it. I yearned for the simple life, a life where my situation wasn’t happening. I’d dealt with a lot throughout my twenty-six hundred and ten years, but this was something I didn’t know how to handle.
I yawned, inevitable tiredness overwhelming me yet again, and I stretched my neck as I stood up.
Back for more?
23
Harry
I froze. The deep voice echoed in my mind, and my heart hammered behind my ribs. I couldn’t move, but my eyes scanned the room, trying to locate the mystery man. I struggled to pick him out from the crowd; everyone’s thoughts and feelings were bouncing around in my skull. I tried to focus on that one, deep voice. My breath caught in my lungs as he finally spoke again, unaware I was listening.
Alone this time? That’ll make it easier.
I spun around. I spotted him instantly, and the colour drained from his face. He was looking right at me, and he knew that I knew who he was. He had dark brown eyes, a closely shaven beard, and a scar across his eyebrow. I caught his gaze, questing towards him before he could look away. I had to be sure. I wouldn’t have recognised him, but I hadn’t factored in him recognising me.
I saw it instantly. He couldn’t hide the thoughts from his mind. The view of me on my back flashed behind my eyes, his cock buried deep inside, his hands on my breasts as he arched over me.
Something snapped inside me as he started to run.
There was a loud gasp around the room as I pushed off the bar, straight on his heels as I darted out the front door. Snapping my head from side to side, he disappeared around a corner, and my pulse soared as I gave chase, pushing through a large group of people who got in my way. I heard their angry shouts behind me, but I didn’t care.
My mind spiralled, adrenaline firing through my chest, my hands balled into fists at my side as I ran. My feet pounded against the pavement, echoing down a narrow alley. My breath was shallow, my stomach tensing, but I quickly caught up. Mortals could never run fast enough.
He came to a dead end and spun around, his eyes wide. He walked backward as far as he could, his eyes desperately trying to spy an escape route.
“Remember me?” I growled.
He didn’t have a second to respond as my fist connected with his jaw. He hit the ground, a trail of blood and a tooth spraying over the cobblestones. He jumped up but turned head-first into a large metal waste disposal bin, tripping over a pile of empty cardboard boxes in his attempt to escape.
I snarled, grabbing his collar with both hands. I threw him against the wall, and he grunted on impact, sliding down and slumping on the floor. He spat out another mouthful of blood and tried to hold his hand up in surrender as I kneeled down and grabbed his throat.
His hands tried and failed to uncurl my fingers, his mouth opening and closing as he fought for breath. His legs flailed, but somehow he managed to get a knee to my elbow, loosening my grip. With renewed resolve, he got his foot to my shoulder and kicked me hard. I fell back, losing the breath in my lungs as I connected with the concrete.
He scrabbled backward, but he didn’t get far before I was on my feet again. I savoured the fear in his eyes as I grabbed his throat again, squeezing harder and pulling him off the ground. “Not so strong now? How many people have you done this to?”
I don’t know if he tried to answer or not, but it was a rhetorical question, anyway. One was already too many.
His hands were at his throat again, trying to loosen my fingers, but his strength was starting to fail him. He would black out shortly. I grit my teeth, squeezing harder.
Harry, stop. Emilia’s voice resounded in my head.
Why?
You’re a lot of things, but you’re not a killer. Her voice was unnervingly calm, and it set my teeth on edge.
What if I want to be?
You can fantasise about what you want to be all day long; fantasising won’t land you in prison. But if you don’t release him now, you’ve gone past the point of no return. Althea’s here; she’s told me everything. In your conditi—
I cut her off. Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Emilia. I loosened my grip, and he pulled a desperate gasp into his lungs. Who else has Althea told? I asked, trying to keep my anger to a minimum.
Just me and Riley. She needed someone to talk to.
Tell her to keep quiet. I blocked the Seven from my thoughts. I was done talking.
I let go of his throat, and he fell to the ground, his lungs inhaling frantically. After a few minutes, he regained colour. He opened his eyes and stared straight down the barrel of my gun.
“Get up and start walking.”
A few minutes later, I forced him into the boot of my car and a further five minutes later, I returned to the hotel. I pulled into the car park, looking around before opening the boot. I held my gun to the back of his head, leaning close to his ear.
“You will follow my every move, do you understand?” I saw him nod, and I cracked him around the back of the skull. “Answer me.”
“Y-yes, yes,” he stammered, his voice shaking.
“Get out,” I commanded, clicking the safety on and tucking the gun into the waistband at my back, hiding it under my T-shirt. I always kept a gun in my car, hidden underneath the front seat, and I’d had it on me since I arrived in Brighton. I’d had to replace it after Lara had set my last car on fire, but I felt safer, knowing there was one there.
Not that I expected many situations like this; I’d threatened a few people in my time, but I’d never shot anyone before. If there was ever a time to use it, this would be it. I looked around again as he pulled himself up and crawled out of the boot.
I wrapped my arm around his waist and pulled his arm over my shoulder, holding him to my side. The confusion was evident on his face, but he didn’t say a word. I walked into the hote
l, checking my pockets for the key card as I made my way across the lobby. I kept my eyes low when walking past the reception desk, but the clerk piped up.
“Is he OK? Do you need help?”
“No, he’s fine, thank you,” I replied, flashing her my best smile. I was pleased to see she blushed. “He’s just had a few too many drinks, and he back-chatted the wrong guy outside the bar. I’ll take care of him.”
She nodded slowly as I turned a corner, out of sight, and I exhaled. Further down the corridor, I forced his chest against the door to my room, pulling the key card from my back pocket. He tripped over his own feet as he fell in, and a split-second later, I had my gun cocked and ready again, nestled into his spine.
“Move,” I snarled.
He held his hands up, and I couldn’t help but smile as a whimper escaped his throat. He carefully put one foot in front of the other and walked towards the middle of the room.
“Get on your knees and put your hands behind your back.” He did as I told him, and I rolled my eyes as he started to cry. That’s not going to help, you bastard. I threw the gun onto the bed as I knelt behind him, tying his wrists together.
“Please, I’m sorry, I—”
“Shut up.”
“But I—”
My elbow connected with the back of his neck, and he slumped forward, knocked clean out.
I left him there as I retrieved my rucksack, rifling through it for the tattoo gun. The tiniest wave of guilt washed over me as I thought about Kit’s gentle nature, but I shook my head. I’ll leave it on her doorstep when I head out.
It took me less than a minute before I was ready, and I rolled him over, straddling his chest.
I smiled at the cute clerk again as I handed my key card over, fiddling with the collar on my jacket. Her eyes dropped to the exposed skin at my neck before she looked away.
“How was your stay?” she asked.
I grinned. “Very good, thanks. Could have been better, but that’s a story for another day.”
She smiled, her cheeks going red as she pressed a few keys on the computer. I remained quiet, checking her out while her attention was elsewhere. I looked up a second too late as she turned. She thought she’d caught me, but I knew I’d started her heart beating a little faster.