Trix cleared her throat. “I dare you. Both of you.” The corner of her lips twitched, which was the Trix equivalent of a smirk.
“What’s the dare?” William said as he cracked his fingers, and I flinched in disgust.
“You have to thrall someone in the bar.” Trix took a sip of her cocktail and licked her bottom lip. “And it has to be a big one. The best display wins.”
“What’s the prize?” Henry asked, his eyes flickered to mine. He must have searched my gaze for jealousy, but there was none. He wouldn’t be touching anyone, I reminded myself. And, I was going to be the one that he went home with.
I shrugged and turned to Trix. She tapped her finger to her lips thoughtfully. “Winner gets a spell.” Her eyes flickered over the daemons. “Nothing massive, but if you need anything tracked I’m your girl.”
William downed his drink in one sip and whirled around in his chair to face the other patrons of the bar. Henry stayed in the same position but allowed his eyes to drift over to the main area of the bar. We were partially hidden in the black patent booth. William stretched his legs into a broad and dominant position. I reached over and took Henry’s hand, allowing my thumb to rub over the smooth porcelain skin. I pointed to the man at the end of the bar with the dishevelled business suit knocking back Jägermeister.
“Him?” I said it as a question.
Trix nodded. “Good choice. He looks like he needs some fun.” Her hazel eyes travelled over the other customers, and her gaze rested on the waitress in an ugly black dress and an Alice band on her head. She looked almost thirty trying to be thirteen. She flicked her long peroxide blonde hair over her shoulder as she laughed at something another male customer was saying.
“Her.” I nodded, and Trix smirked.
William rubbed his palms together in anticipation. Henry’s hand remained in mine. He turned to me, and his lips transformed into a slow, sad smile. “I don’t need to do this,” Henry said.
“I know.” I took a sip of my drink, thoughtfully. “But it’ll be fun, and I doubt that I have much competition from drunky over there.” I laughed.
If any of the other patrons noticed the change in the atmosphere, they didn’t let on. As if a warm blanket dropped over the bar, I felt my chest heave as if I had just run ten miles. I felt the familiar brush of power but it wasn’t as strong as Damian’s, which was an all-consuming pressure. William and Henry’s power was like a subtle caress. I relaxed my vision and leant back into my seat. The energy flecks in the area which floated aimlessly before, a mixture of all the different auras and emotions of the other people in the bar came together like a flurry of snow. They gathered and sank into the daemon's skin. Trix shivered, and when I looked at her, I could tell that she sensed the power also, even if she couldn’t see it. Her knuckles had turned white as she gripped her cocktail.
The lights flickered, and some of the patrons looked up to the faulty fluorescent bulbs, but most just continued chatting over their afternoon drinks. I watched as a slow black smoke trail travelled from William’s fingers, it slunk across the tiled granite floor like the walking fingers of a lover. The waitress reached the bar and picked up her tray, balancing a collection of full drinks on her hip. The smoke enveloped her like claws, demanding and seeking an opening. The tendrils of power trailed in through her nostrils. The peroxide blonde rubbed the end of her nose as if it tickled, but continued walking the length of the bar. William’s fingers moved a fraction, barely more than a twitch. The waitress’s back arched and the tray went skidding from her clutches like a Frisbee. The drinks hit the floor, bottom first, and spread out in a splash. Broken glass tinkled as it hit the tiles around her feet. As she struggled for balance, the woman gripped the edge of a Louis style chair. Her mouth gaped like a fish, flushed. Her eyes darted around the room as if searching for someone that could tell her what she was feeling. The low-cut dress revealed the tops of her breasts, which flushed red with arousal. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the floor, confused and satisfied. No one else could see the residue of daemon magic on the air, only I could.
Our table rang out with laughter. Trix raised her drink in a toast. It was nice to forget about all the other daemon shit and focus on the good bits. I excused myself and walked to the bar to order another round.
“We’ll wait until you get back for round 2,” Henry said, shyly.
I leant against the wood of the bar, feeling comfort in the familiar sticky surface. It reminded me of my days as a Soho barmaid at Bar Noir.
Someone coughed to my left, and I looked over to the sad drunk in a business suit. He raised his tumbler of whisky and smiled. His teeth were perfectly white, but he was well and truly trollied.
“Pretty thing, aren’t you?” He mumbled. “Wouldn’t want a man like me now that I’ve lost my job.”
I ignored him and ordered my drinks, I tapped my foot impatiently and made a conscious effort to avoid eye contact.
“What?” He snarled. “You think you’re too good for me?” The drunk stood up from his stool, allowing it to fall to the ground. As if the world had stopped, I felt my vision tunnel. My hand gripped the switchblade in my pocket, for security.
“I suggest you sit back down,” I said calmly. I eyed the barman who nodded once, implying he was summoning a bouncer.
The drunk swayed and darted behind me, faster than a typically intoxicated man should have been able to move. One hand rested on the bar to help his balance, the other was tangled in the ponytail at the back of my head. He gripped the hair at the nape of my neck, controlling the movement of my head. I gritted my teeth, overcome with anger. I heard the squeak of a chair that indicated that I had a few seconds before one of the daemons intervened. They stood at the other end of the bar, and waited for my cue.
I didn’t need to be protected.
I reached into my pocket and flicked out the switchblade. I sunk the knife to the hilt into the meaty flesh of his hand, pinning it to the bar. The man screamed like a stuck pig as I calmly removed his other hand from my hair as if peeling off a plaster. The barman started to tremble, he held the landline phone in his hand like a useless prop.
“You can’t bring a knife in here!” He squealed. “I’m phoning the police.”
Henry darted forward, so quickly that my eyes could not track the movement. He appeared by my side, and his hand gripped the drunkard's wrist. I glanced to the barman who had cowered in the corner next to the Disaronno fridge, his hands shook as he fumbled with an ice pick that he had commandeered from the trough behind him.
Henry’s jaw was taut, his eyes alive with anger as he gripped my assailant's free wrist. The drunk business man's other hand lay prone on the bar, still held in place with my cherry handled switchblade. The man’s grey eyes went dull, his skin had a pallor. I watched as his head lulled and his body slunk to the floor, suspended in an awkward sprawl with one hand still attached to the bar. His chest no longer moved, but Henry held onto his wrist. I watched as Henry drained him dry. The drunk's life was gone, done. I reached forward and plucked my switchblade from the man’s hand, causing his corpse to fall to the floor completely. Henry’s grip was like iron as he twisted my wrist and directed us outside of the bar before I had a chance to properly clean the blood from the short, sleek blade.
You're a fucking murderer. Melanie snarled.
Another voice interrupted her. I didn’t recognise it.
Come to me, child.
The frigid spring air whipped my hair from my face as we stepped into the cobbled streets. Henry’s cheeks flushed with stolen energy. His hair was a manic, wild, mess. His doe like wide eyes were alive and determined. He steered us towards an alleyway, it’s dark entrance was hidden from the street.
He grabbed my face, and tension rolled off him in waves. As if he had become smoke, his fingers trailed under my skin leaving a tingling burn. It was as if he was under my skin. He gripped my cheeks, smooching my lips together as he faced me directly.
“You. Are. So. Troubles
ome.” Henry Blaire enunciated. Overcome by an emotion that I couldn’t determine, his lips crashed against mine and his thigh hooked in between my legs, spreading them apart. I gasped and wrapped my hands around his neck, allowing my fingers to tug on his hair.
High on death. Blood. Or just plain crazy, we gripped onto each other as if we would die if we let go.
Someone cleared their throat behind us, and we broke apart for a second only to see Trix and William hovering at the end of the alleyway. Trix’s nose was bleeding, but I didn’t dare ask.
The Elite daemon tilted his head to the road on the other side of the alleyway, away from Callooh Calley.
“The police will be here soon.” William said, almost bored. A siren rang out in the distance. “I give it about two minutes.”
Henry’s breathing was heavy as he surveyed the buildings around us. “If the police get her, she’s as good as Damian’s. He’s got people in the London Met.”
Without another word, William’s phone alerted him to a text message and his face grew into a smile. William tilted his jaw to the end of the alley.
A town car hovered on the double yellows. It let out a single shrill beep. I didn’t need telling twice. William had a car. Of course he did; he was daemon royalty.
William jogged, at a very human speed, to the front of the vehicle and slid into the passenger's side. I went to the back of the sleek black limo. Covered in blood, Henry and I looked a bit awkward against the beige upholstery.
“Where did you get that knife?” Henry asked, as his indigo eyes searched mine.
I shrugged. “Melanie gave it to me before we left the house this afternoon.”
His brow furrowed, his eyes flared to their daemonic pale icy blue. “Please tell me about your apparitions in future,” Henry asked politely. “Not that I don’t approve of your actions towards that vile man, but the situation got out of hand.”
“Out of hand?” I laughed. “We just killed a man.”
He turned in his seat and took my face in his hands again, forcing my eyes to connect with his. He searched my expression for something, but I couldn’t for the life of me tell what it was. When he didn’t find it, he sighed and leant back. Speaking to himself, instead of me, he said quietly;
“The Pure blood has corrupted you deeper than I thought. We don’t have much time.”
William Kain shifted in his seat and turned around to face him. “We’ll be at the penthouse in a minute.”
A loud hysterical giggle caught my attention but no one else seemed to hear it; I saw that Melanie was back. She bit her knuckle as if she had been let in on the funniest secret in the world and it was a struggle not to laugh.
I continued to stare at Henry, trying to ignore her.
My daemon was right. The Pureblood had affected me more than I had cared to admit.
7.
Having known William Kain, as an acquaintance more than anything else, I nearly always forgot that he was daemon royalty. His status as an Elite daemon was due to his direct lineage from the Purebloods, who were monsters who had never been human. The only thing I knew about the Purebloods was that they had shapeshifting abilities.
There was a difference between a daemon and a Demon. The little ‘A’ implied that they had once been human.
Demon. Or Purebloods were creatures birthed from Hell.
I often wondered how an Elite daemon differed from a ‘run of the mill’ daemon. As we pulled into the private parking garage for The Shard, I realised that part of that difference must have been wealth.
“We’re in The Shard?” I hissed incredulously. “The Shard?!”
The Shard was an obscenely tall and expensive new skyscraper in Central London, I had read about it online and knew that tickets to the viewing deck and restaurants were hard to come by. Trix rolled her eyes and leant back into the leather as the guards waved us through the barricade to the car park.
“King Kain isn’t just a nickname, Taylor.” She said.
I eyed William suspiciously. From his sleeve tattoos and closely cropped haircut and right down to his t-shirt, which I was confident I had seen at a stall in Camden Market, his royal status was completely at odds with everything I knew about the Elite.
William reached into his pocket and turned his phone on. Immediately, it began to ring and flash. He was very much in demand. His demeanour flipped from the fun-loving man I knew to a business man. William strode towards the elevator, leaving Trix, Henry and me alone in the car park full of Bentleys and Land Rover Evoques.
“Each Family has a significant net worth,” Henry explained. “Although William has more capital than most, he made some rather astute investments at the turn of the 20th century.”
“How old is the perv anyway?” Trix asked, her face impassive.
“I have only known him since the eighties but I think he was born during the crusades,” Henry offered. He brushed a lock of my hair behind my ear. “He does not know of my past with the Witchings. Only you two do.”
Trix nodded, and I blushed, flattered and happy that Henry considered me worthy of one secret even if he had a trove of others.
“You mentioned the Families? So, there’s Blaire and Kain…?” I wondered out loud.
“Rose and Cross.” Trix supplied helpfully. “I don’t know the others.”
Henry stepped forward and entered the key code to the elevator with ease. William had gone off without us, marching forward with a phone to his ear like a fifty shades billionaire.
“Each Family originates from a Pureblood.” Henry explained. He opened his mouth to say something else, but the silver aluminium doors pinged open. A blonde woman with a topknot and a pencil skirt smiled faintly, waiting for us. She sucked up the energy in the air like a vacuum, causing my breath to become mist on the air. She was a daemon.
“Hello.” She said mildly. “My name is Cynthia. I am Master Kain’s personal assistant.” Cynthia nodded to each of us, but her gaze drew to a stop at Henry. “Master Blaire. It’s a pleasure. Where is your Mistress?”
A stab of jealous pulsed through my chest, like a fist around my heart. It took an unusual amount of strength to keep from flinching. I turned to look at my daemon, his eyes flared ice blue, his pupil was a stark black dot on a sea of Celestine. He cleared his throat and motioned for all of us to step into the elevator without a word.
Cynthia pulled out a tablet and began typing away without acknowledging us further. I watched the numbers on the lift increase until they reached the top floors.
“The Penthouse?” I looked to Henry in disbelief.
“The smallest things surprise you.” His lips twitched in a smile.
Cynthia coughed to draw our attention. “Master Kain will be detained for a short period with preparations for the Equinox Festival at the first of the month. Is there anything I can help you with whilst you wait?” Her voice was melted caramel, detached and professional.
I shook my head, unable to think of a request. Trix snapped her fingers and ordered coffee in a bored drawl. As an afterthought, she added, “And a bottle of JD.”
It was obvious she had been to the Penthouse before, but I didn’t ask.
When the elevator opened, it had led us directly into the living room of the penthouse. The windows were from floor to ceiling. The London skyline was spectacular, the phallic shape of the gherkin building glinted in the sun as it’s glass structure caught the weak spring sun outside.
The apartment was sparsely decorated; the Scandinavian style furnishings were all light grey and boxy. Trix flitted past us both, her peach hair bouncing as she hurried to one of the armchairs and sat down with a huff. She stretched her feet onto the glass coffee table, and quickly made herself at home.
I swallowed any questions about the two of them, William and Beatrix, and found myself looking at her breasts appraisingly. Hers’ were large, and I knew that William liked that.
“What’s the Equinox festival?” I wondered as Cynthia’s heels clacked against the pri
stine white marble tile. She carefully laid her tray on the table, the pot was full of dark, delicious coffee and the PA trotted away without a word. I leant forward and took the bottle of Jack Daniels, unscrewing the lid and taking a large swig. I instantly calmed, the rolling nausea and unease in my stomach began to settle.
“It’s the Rebirth festival,” Trix explained. “Happens once a year.”
“It is when most daemons are turned.” Henry looked at the JD out of the corner of his eye but chose not to say anything about it. “It would be unwise to consider turning a daemon without the support of the Families. The Equinox Festival is a collection of humans, both consorts and food. They are placed in the auction and given to the highest bidder.”
I shivered, disgusted. “Auctioned? Like…antiques?”
“Or cattle.” Trix piped in helpfully, as she poured herself a cup of coffee in a delicate manner. “They’re Biters, Taylor, what do you expect?”
Henry reached over and took my hand, but my attention was briefly stolen by the hazy red cloud that drifted from where our skin touched, it was like a scarlet thread. I didn’t know what it meant, but it had helped me find him. It kept me grounded and connected to him.
“As an Elite, William can put you forward for the Equinox festival,” Henry said. “When the time comes, you will be turned into a daemon and will belong to the Families. Over whom the Purebloods have no jurisdiction.”
My head swirled with the new information, and I leant back in the chair as Henry’s finger drew invisible patterns over the skin on the back of my hand. The material of the expensive faux retro sofa was scratchy and uncomfortable. It was probably easy to stain as well.
Daemons of London Boxset (Books 1-3) The Bleeders, The Human Herders, The Purebloods Page 30