Louise had thought it meant she’d get bored and start looking in younger directions, but it wasn’t like that at all. She was here, waiting for Richard. Handsome, hard working, enigmatic Richard. He was the one who had better things to do.
She travelled around London, from home to home with his daughter, wherever he sent them. Sometimes it almost seemed that he’d deserted her because she’d got so close to Evie. Over the last year she’d come to see how he could barely look at his daughter. Louise thought he barely looked at her anymore either.
She turned slowly in front of the mirror, examining herself from every angle. She looked slimmer than she was, and her skin was white and perfect. Even though she stood in bright afternoon sunlight the mirror showed her without flaws or blemishes. She smoothed her hands over her face, smiling at the soft touch of her skin. She had heard people saying some mirrors were kinder than others, and had thought it was nonsense until now.
“Well, don’t I deserve some appreciation?” she asked aloud, tearing herself away from her reflection and lying down on her bed. She flung her arm over her eyes and allowed her body to relax into the mattress.
Richard would have to come home for Christmas. Then she’d make him look straight into her eyes and tell her if he loved her anymore, or if he didn’t. Tell her why he went running back to his hotel at midnight, and why he’d come smelling of some expensive foreign perfume.
* * *
Evie took sharp, shallow gasps, fanning herself with a frantic hand as she looked in the thrift shop mirror. The gown was beautiful, flowing silver-white with clear beads that caught the light and twinkled when she moved. The only problem was she couldn’t get a decent breath of air into her lungs.
“I’ll pass out before the night ends in this, Trix.” She pressed down on the bodice, trying to shift it. A sharp pain shot through her chest. “Loosen it a bit!”
Trix rolled her eyes and loosened the ties at her back. “It’s supposed to be uncomfortable.” She winked at Evie in the mirror. “Beauty costs, sweet pea.”
Evie wriggled, trying to loosen the bodice further. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea. It’s a bit over the top too, isn’t it?”
Trix’s blue eyes lit up, making her look manic. “It’ll be perfect when I finish with it. I’m gonna freak it up a little, you’re supposed to be the bride of Hades, not Cinderella.”
Evie groaned. “I hope Hades comes and drags me down to his underground lair before the ball starts.”
Trix began untying the laces entirely. “Complain all you like, you aren’t getting out of it.” She pulled the bodice over Evie’s head, and Evie unzipped the skirt, letting it slide down onto the floor. She stepped to the side and began putting her clothes back on as Trix arranged the gown back on the hanger.
It only cost twenty pounds, but Evie had never been more reluctant to part with her cash at the checkout. Trix bought an extra five pounds worth of odd mix-matched materials. Evie prayed her dress wouldn’t end up being blended with a particularly vile polka-dot pattern that Trix was excited about.
Trix confiscated the gown as soon as they walked out into the street. “I’ll have to get working on it tonight. There’s only three days ‘til the big night.”
Evie shook her head. “What’s the point in putting so much effort into it, Trix? It’s only one night, and I’m going to be made a fool of.”
Trix tapped her nose and winked. “You’re going to look edible girl, I promise.”
Evie gave up the argument, and led her friend up along the high street and into the crowded market area. She avoided the clothes stalls, drawing Trix into the food aisles instead. Christmas was a good excuse to load up her sweetie reserves. Fruit and vegetable stalls filled up most of the space, but Evie pulled Trix through to the very back where the sweet stalls were always set up on Saturdays.
“Great idea, hun. Show up to the ball with all your teeth rotting out of your mouth.”
Evie shrugged. “It would just be some more fuel for Bella’s fire.” She stopped at her favourite stall, joining the queue that had already formed. Trix looked at the majority of children in it pointedly, but Evie ignored her.
“I’m going to go on ahead to the clothes stalls, Evie. Make sure you don’t choke on your candy before you find me.”
Evie swung a playful punch at Trix’s arm but she slithered out of reach, her colourful braids swinging dangerously. She disappeared into the crowd.
Evie focused her attention on the collection of sweets on the stall, but she was distracted by the sound of Jessica White’s voice. Her heart did flips in her chest, and she looked around trying to locate the girl’s whereabouts.
She was leaning over another sweet stall, and Carson had his arm around her waist, burrowing his face into her neck, kissing it softly. Evie looked away quickly. She didn’t want to be the owner of the knowledge that Bella’s boyfriend was screwing around with her best friend. It felt like being in possession of the Death Star plans. Ignorance was bliss in some cases.
She saw them move towards the queue she was standing in, so she slipped out and hurried towards the food stalls to hide. It was then that she caught sight of the strangest fruit stall she’d ever seen.
Baskets filled with blood red fruits crowded the table, some hanging down from the canopy on thickly woven ropes. A sign behind read ‘Crimsin’ in a curling, gothic font. Evie didn’t know if the ‘sin’ was a spelling mistake, or intentional.
The fruit seller saw her watching. She was a young woman, slim and tall, wrapped tightly in a red winter coat. She narrowed her eyes as Evie came closer, and then looked around at the stalls beside her, as if unsure Evie was actually coming towards her.
When Evie finally reached her the woman’s eyes scoured her up and down. She felt uncomfortable for an instant. Almost like she’d walked into an extremely upmarket fashion store dressed in a plastic bag.
But then the woman spoke, in a soft and soothing voice. “Can I help you, miss?”
Evie stared at the baskets, sure that she wanted to buy some fruit, but not sure which looked the best. Her eyes fell upon a bowl of pomegranate seeds, and the woman followed her gaze. She grasped the silver spoon in the bowl and mixed the juicy seeds. “They are the best I’ve seen all year,” she said.
Evie’s mouth watered, but she looked around at the other baskets. How could there be enough red fruits in the world to take up an entire stall? She saw large uncut pomegranates, clusters of bright cherries that gleamed like garnets, and small red berries that seemed to melt together like a pool of arterial blood. Evie’s stomach turned a little at the thought, but her mouth was dry as bone and she felt like lifting the basket and tipping the entire contents down her throat.
She reached towards it, but the woman placed a round, intense red apple into her palm. It pulsed against her skin like a heart. Evie curled her fingers around it gently, feeling that it was plump and ripe. If she squeezed she wondered if blood would leak from it, warm and thick with life. She wanted to laugh at that thought.
She looked back at the woman, and heard her voice speak as if from far away. “How much?”
The woman leaned forward and pressed Evie’s fingers tighter around the apple. “It is only one apple. Take it for free.” The woman’s hand was icy cold.
Evie pulled back, smiling faintly. Her mouth was too dry to say any more words. She backed away from the stall and moved into the shifting crowd, taking a single irresistible bite from the apple as she did.
A sea of juice flooded her mouth. For a moment she thought the apple was rotten inside. Her teeth sunk into it as though it was soft raw meat. She expected to retch before the taste of it seized her. She let it wash over her tongue, it was sweet and bitter and alive, roaring down her throat when she swallowed, burning cruelly and then cooling with a merciful bliss.
She remembered tasting something similar once upon a time, and strained to remember. She took another greedy bite, and as she chewed she felt as though the world around
her was changing. Like it was shedding its skin and revealing something more beautiful and disturbing beneath.
She devoured the entire apple, crunching the core, not caring as it slid uneven and sharp down into her stomach. When it was finished she regarded the new and brilliant world around her. Her mind was back in focus, a thousand times more clear and observant. She felt like she was a small sun of potential, burning dangerously in a tiny space. She needed to get out.
A dark spot of fear remained below the sun, and she wanted to reach inside herself and grasp it. She knew it was the only way to feel normal again. She stood still in the crowd and stared at the people bustling around her, all of them unaware of everything she was feeling.
Then the blonde haired boy she had seen lurking outside the tattoo shop was pressed up against her, looking down into her disoriented eyes. He was full of life, pulsing like the apple had against her palm. Up close his skin was a smooth dusky gold, unblemished, perfect as if someone had painted him. He smelled of hot spices and strong cinnamon.
Her legs turned to water beneath her, and he reached out and grabbed her before she could swoon to the floor.
“Did that taste good?” he asked, and there was mocking laughter in his dark grey eyes. “Foolish mortal. Some foods were never meant for you.”
Evie struggled out of his grasp, gaining strength out of anger and fear. “What are you talking about?”
The sound of her voice was loud inside her head, she thought she could almost see it escaping from her mouth and reaching out to him in waves. “What…what was in that apple?”
The boy tilted his head, it should have been a quizzical look but it was only condescending. As his multitude of golden braids slithered forward with the motion she caught sight of his ears. They were inhuman, gracefully pointed at the tips.
“Drugs?” she said, more to herself than to him. She turned slowly, gazing back at the fruit stall through the gaps in the crowd.
“You might say that,” he whispered.
Evie caught sight of the stall in a flash of red. The woman behind it was no longer a woman. She was a demon. Evie gasped. The floor beneath her seemed insubstantial, made of air. She felt she was going to fall down under the earth but couldn’t breathe deep enough to scream.
The demon girl looked up from another customer she was serving, as if she sensed Evie was watching her. Her eyes were large and cat shaped, black and endless in her long white face. Her hair was the colour of crushed red berries, and flowed around her, falling almost to the ground. But Evie’s eyes washed over it quickly, coming to rest with a terrified fascination upon the wings that rose out of her back.
They reached up to the top of the canopy, and moved with a slow and aching grace. They were like woven threads of light, a dark red colour fading at the tips to a raw, fleshy pink. They were bleeding, leaking full, thick pearls of blood. It ran down in slow rivers and rivulets, dripping incessantly, falling around her, heavy and sparse like rain before a storm.
A scream tried to claw its way out of Evie’s throat, but died as a strangled moan. The customer at the stall turned around to see who had made the sound and Evie’s heart rattled in her chest. It was the woman from the antique store, a whole basket of the apples hung on her bony arm.
Evie turned and threw herself further into the crowd, pushing through it to find Trix. She had to get home. She had to get to the doctors. A long fingered hand curled around her upper arm and dragged her back. She struggled like a wild animal, scrabbling at the hand with her nails.
“Don’t make a fool of yourself. No one else can see me.”
Making a fool of herself was the last thing she was worried about. “Let go of me!”
The crowd fell away from her. People gave her a wide berth, stopping to stare, so that she had an audience circling her. The boy let go suddenly. “Suit yourself.”
Evie stumbled back into the people. Someone screamed as if she was a bomb about to go off.
An older man steadied Evie with a firm hand. “Are you okay, love?” He glared around at the people who were staring at her until most of them moved off, throwing curious glances back at her as they went.
“Are you on your own?” he asked.
Evie wished to God she was, but the boy with the blond braids was right beside her. She could feel his warmth, see his breath misting out into the cold air. She shook her head. “My friend’s around here somewhere.”
“Let’s go and find her. I think you need to go home, dear. You don’t look very well.” He offered her his arm and Evie took it gratefully, moving away from the food stalls, towards the clothes and jewellery.
The boy was following, but Evie felt safer with the man. Maybe if she ignored the boy he’d just disappear. Evie looked around for Trix as they walked, but Trix found them first.
“Evie!” She hurried towards them, eyeing the old man suspiciously.
She checked Evie’s forehead as soon as she reached them, pulling her away from the man. “You look awful. What’s happened?“
“She was having a little episode back there. Maybe you should take your friend home.”
Evie tried to thank the man, but a flash of blond hair caught her attention, as the boy came back into view. He leaned against a stall of T-shirts and casually checked his nails.
“What do you want?” Evie asked, as aggressively as she could manage.
The boy raised his light eyebrows, and flicked his head in Trix’s direction.
Trix looked very worried. “Christ, Evie. What’s going on?”
“Yes Evie, what is going on?” The boy echoed, laughter in his eyes.
“Has she taken anything?” the old man asked, leaning closer to Evie and looking into her eyes.
Trix looked affronted. “Evie doesn’t do drugs!” she said tartly, but her gaze strayed to Evie’s eyes as well.
“I just don’t feel well,” Evie said quickly. “Can we go sit down in a cafe or something?” She rubbed at her pounding temples. Everything seemed to be getting darker, less vibrant than before. Like someone had flicked a light switch in her brain and cast everything into shadow.
Trix took her hand, and thanked the man for his kindness. Evie smiled at him as they left the market place. She didn’t look to see if the boy was still following. That much seemed inevitable.
They went into the first coffee house they could find. Trix put Evie in a booth and went up to the counter to order. As soon as she was gone the boy slid into the seat opposite. Evie rested her head in her hands and glared up at him.
He didn’t look unnerved in the slightest. Instead he lifted a packet of sugar from the centre of the table and tore it open, tipping his head back and pouring it into his mouth. He crunched on it, almost obnoxiously, swallowing with great relish and smiling a wicked smile.
“What do you want?” she asked again. Her voice came out all wrong. More of a plea than the commanding question she’d intended.
The boy selected another sugar packet, a brown one this time. He tore it open slowly before he answered her. “It is like this, Evie. There is a job you have to do. Everyone is counting on you to do it. You are going to say good bye to this friend,” he motioned towards the counter, “and you are going to come with me. No more questions until we are alone.”
He tipped the sugar into his mouth, waiting for her response.
Evie looked at Trix, who was speaking to the waiter, ordering two extra frothy lattes. She kept her voice low when she answered him. “What if I don’t want to ask more questions? What if I want to go home and forget the past two days ever happened?”
He spread his hands out flat against the table, and stared down at them, any hint of play was gone from him. “I won’t let you forget, Evie. Do not force my hand.”
Trix came and sat down beside him, completely unaware that he was there. “I ordered a caramel shot in your latte. You could do with some extra energy.” She looked pointedly at the empty sugar sachets. “Want to tell me what happened back there?”
<
br /> For the second time she thought about telling Trix the whole story. With the boy sitting there beside her, with his long golden hair and black cloak, and pointed ears, it should have been easy.
Instead she told a different story. “I think I’m just overtired. Maybe we should call it a day. I should probably go home to bed.”
Trix looked unconvinced. “Well that’s a given.” She stirred her latte, and licked the froth from the spoon. Evie tried to ignore the boy as he rested his head on his arm and gave Trix a very appreciative once over.
Trix scratched her neck as if she could feel the unseen eyes on her. “Do you want me to walk you home?”
The boy shook his head, warning her to say no. Evie’s heart hammered in her chest as she defied him. “Maybe that would be a good idea.’
The boy jerked his head to the left, and Evie followed the motion. The booth beside them wasn’t unoccupied. Four figures sat calmly watching her. Three were young men, exceptionally handsome young men with angular faces that resembled the face of Evie’s stalker; they had peculiar pointed ears as well. But the last one watched her with golden eyes, set far back in its face, the long nosed, feral face of a wolf.
Evie felt stomach acid bubbled in the back of her throat, burning. An icy flood of adrenaline rushed through her veins, and she had to grip the table edge to keep from running from the shop.
The wolf-man smiled, the skin pulling slowly back to reveal sharp canine teeth, stained with blood and grime. His hands rested on the table. They were human hands, long and graceful. He lowered his grotesque head and saliva dripped down from his mouth, thick and disgusting.
She felt a hand curl around her own, and looked back to see the boy staring at her, his eyes commanding and brutal. His touch calmed the terror, only enough for her to realise that he meant to use that beast to hurt her, to hurt Trix. His gentle grip became harder, and she pulled away from him, knocking her latte so that it tipped dangerously, splashing the hot brown liquid on the table.
Trix grabbed it. “Evie, what are you doing?”
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