A muffled woman’s voice called up from somewhere downstairs.
“Preston, are you getting up this morning? That bloody dog of yours needs taken for a shit and I’m damned if I’m doing it.”
Preston spat a gobbet of toothpaste, blood and black oily goo into the sink. He smiled up into the mirror and admired his gleaming teeth and inky tongue.
“Yes dear. Just cleaning my teeth. I’ll be down to see you in a minute.”
Five minutes later Preston arrived at the bottom of the stairs with his briefcase in hand. His face was covered in small wads of tissue where he had obsessively scraped the razor across his cheeks. His comb over flapped on one side of his head like an empty glove. He was as tired and bedraggled as a man could be. He looked like a bible salesman who had just had the thousandth door of the day shut in his face.
A fat woman in a faded pink dressing gown sat at the kitchen table, slurping instant coffee and puffing a cigarette. When Preston’s footsteps thumped down the stairs she did not take her eyes from the television. The shopping channel was offering a discount on the Ab-Master 3000 fitness system. Behind her in a frying pan a handful of sausages and eggs were busy sizzling. She sighed out some smoke and tipped her head.
“Preston the dog’s been sick on the living room floor. You’ll need to clear it up.”
Behind her Preston stood slack jawed with his arms by his sides. The briefcase slid from his hand and flopped onto the linoleum.
“I’ve been called into work.”
“I don’t care, that dirty mutt is your burden not mine.”
“It’s very important work.”
Mrs Loveless rolled her eyes and tutted. Her cheeks were rosy and pink like rolled pork. She still did not turn to face him.
“If it’s so important then why have you slept in, eh? I certainly wasn’t going to wake you. Mornings are the only peace I get from your awful snoring. I couldn’t bear lying next to you any longer last night so I went to the spare room. Moaning and talking in your sleep it was intolerable.”
“I had a nightmare.”
“Well I wake up to one every morning so now you know how I feel.”
“I’ve been chosen for something.”
“Good for you. There’s a rubbish bag needs taken out when you leave.”
Preston looked over at the frying pan. The sausages were starting to smoke and burn.
“They smell nice.”
“Help yourself. They need turned over.”
Preston shuffled over to the hob and peered down at the burning cylinders of meat.
“They smell nice.”
“Yes you said that. I doubt I’ll be in when you get home. I’m meeting Sandra at the wine bar, so don’t wait up. And turn those sausages they’re smoking the house out.”
Preston watched the skin of the sausages split and blacken. The mushed meat inside them poured out from the wounds. As he stared slack jawed at the crisping brunch, his eyes met the two fried eggs sizzling at the top of the pan.
One of the eggs winked at him. Preston grinned knowingly and winked back. The split sausage curled into a friendly grin and spoke.
Preston are you going to let that disgusting fat mess address you in that tone? You? The man of the house? A high flyer. If I were you I’d cleave her plump head in two. She is an obstacle Preston, you won’t be able to fully undertake the work we’ve given you while she’s around.
He glanced up at the rail of knives above the worktop. Breadknife, paring knife, fillet knife, cleaver.
Cleaver.
The sausage in the pan curled into an even more gleeful grin.
Preston grinned back and slowly raised a finger to his lips. He suppressed an idiot laugh as he shushed the fry-up.
Preston slowly turned around and looked at the cascading form of his wife in her faded pink dressing gown. His mouth curled up in a lop sided grin as if he had suffered a stroke.
“You look like a blancmange.”
Mrs Loveless either did not hear him did not process the words. She puffed on his cigarette and snorted at something on the television. Preston peered at her curiously.
“You’re glowing through. And there’s a trail of light leading to you. From right here at my shoes.”
Mrs Loveless seemed to vaguely overhear this and rolled her eyes again. She noisily slurped her coffee.
“Is this your nervous breakdown happening then? Because if it is then I suggest you have it at work.”
“I have to go dear. Have a lovely day.”
Preston thunked the heavy meat cleaver right down the centre of his wife’s ginger head. Her shocked eyes drifted further apart as the halves of her skull sank in different directions. From somewhere in the exposed trachea a long rattling whine piped up. The unformed last word she always liked to have as Preston went out the door.
In his free hand Preston held a burnt sausage. He dreamily brought it up to his mouth and took a bite. As he chewed, he smiled down at his wife’s cleft head. “Like a split sausage.”
Superb work Loveless. I see you’re going to fit right in here at Unseelie and Co. This is just the kind of aggressive takeover we specialize in. That’s your induction taken care of but I’m sure you’re keen to get right on with more work. You get the gist now? Follow the trails, they will lead you to our competitors. When you see them busily glowing away, we want you to explain our policy to them. Like you’ve explained our company policy to your wife. Do you understand?
Preston blew on the hot half sausage then shoved it in his mouth. His wife’s spilled coffee was dripping steadily off the table.
You’re living the dream Preston Loveless. And to think, only yesterday you were just answering phones and filling in forms. How could your last company have overlooked your talents for so long?
“I’m living the dream.”
Preston shuffled over to the worktop and opened the cutlery drawer. He brought out a large dessert spoon.
He picked up the dog’s bowl and walked back over to his wife’s cloven skull. Staring down at the buttery mess of Mrs Loveless’s brain, he dipped in and took a large scoop.
“Clive! Here boy! Daddy’s going to feed you before he goes to work.”
A few minutes later Preston Loveless strolled out the front door with his briefcase, whistling all the way. At the end of the garden path he saw a faint trail of light and so he followed it. Through his mind blew a thought like the low whisper of wind.
Usher. Usher. Usher. Usher. Usher.
In the kitchen Clive the collie was snuffling in his bowl, having the most confusing but delicious feast of his life.
2
In an American themed diner a mile away from Piccadilly Circus a man and a woman sat in a window booth nervously sipping coffee. The man was one of the most highly trained soldiers in the world and had no official identity. His job was to kill monsters but this was his night off. The woman had watched her home town overrun by vampires. There was something of the 1950’s starlet about her, yet her beauty spot was actually a tiny gunpowder burn. They were trying to have a normal night.
They both had to admit it was tough.
“It’s about survival Thom. Being in a marriage like that.”
“You did what you needed to do to stay alive Gina.”
Major Thom Usher stirred his coffee and glanced up at the woman, watching her red lips as she formed the words. The black liquid in his cup reflected his own tired face and one of the overhead lightbulbs, as if he was having an idea.
He was. He was having thoughts that had not crossed his mind in years. He smiled at her, an act his face struggled to recall.
Have I really forgotten the basics? Has it been that long? Jesus, soldier, have a word with yourself.
“It was a war Gina. I get that. Some people are fighting their wars in secret. Sometimes with guns and sometimes it’s just trying to stay alive in your own living room.”
Gina found it hard to meet his eyes but her lips turned up in a smile. She glanced up a
nd they sat there looking at each other for a long moment.
“Except other people who have their own war going on. You can see it in their eyes.”
For some reason Usher struggled to hold her gaze. He wasn’t sure if he was afraid of the darkness she might see in his eyes, or if it was related to the tickling in his stomach.
What are you, twelve? Snap out of it soldier, it’s just a girl, you faced werewolves in Romania a week ago.
He forced his eyes upwards,
“Can you see it in mine?”
“I’ve never seen eyes quite like yours. You know they reflect red sometimes, in the right light?”
Oh That? That would be the residual effects of the time when I was forcibly injected with Bear-God’s blood by the Russian mafia. More coffee? Pie? God, where do I even start?
Usher rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had just spent a week in Romania clearing out a nest of therianthropes that had been preying on townsfolk for months. He was fuelling himself on caffeine and currently, hormones he thought he had ceased to produce. He thought all his endorphins had been transformed into adrenaline. Apparently not.
“Bloodshot I guess. Sorry, not slept since I got off the helicopter.”
“No not bloodshot. Scary but beautiful. Well, yeah you do look fucking exhausted, but that’s not it. Can you tell me where you were? Or is it super classified?”
“Until Greystone security clears you and you get your induction, let’s say it was somewhere with trees and lots of monsters. Now it’s just trees. You’d have felt right at home. Hey you make bad language sound good. How do you do that?”
“I’ve been exposed to a lot of it.”
“You pronounce all the letters, it’s classy.”
“I’m very fucking classy. See my pinkie on this cup?”
“Out.”
“Exactly.”
“You hungry?”
Gina leaned back and yawned. It was such an honest unselfconscious gesture and it made Usher smile, more naturally this time. She spoke through the yawn.
“I’m always hungry, been a waitress stealing morsels from kitchens since I was sixteen. It’s how I maintain these curves.”
Usher used all his willpower.
Don’t look at the curves don’t look at the curves.
“The ones that...”
“The ones you can’t take your eyes off, soldier.”
Usher stopped stirring his coffee. He took an awkward breath.
“Gina I...”
Gina blushed, knowing she had overstepped the mark.
“Usher I’m sorry. I’m behaving like a stupid teenager here. You’re still looking for your family, you’re married and you’ve got enough on your plate. I’m just nervous. And hey it’s hard not to have a crush on the man who saved you from vampires, right?”
Usher quickly took in the surrounding tables, making sure no one was listening in. There was enough background clatter to assure them of privacy so he relaxed a little.
The waitress walked by and refilled their coffee. Her nail varnish was chipped and she sighed as she walked off. Usher sat back in his chair and shook his head.
Stop being such stuffed suit. Don’t you remember what a normal night feels like? A normal conversation with someone beautiful? Just talk with her. And say out loud what you struggle to even say in your head.
Usher cleared his throat.
“No Gina, I’m sorry. My family has been missing for over seven years, and there is almost no chance they’re alive. I’ll never stop fighting in their name, so that it doesn’t happen to anyone else’s wife and kid, but I need to start living again. Other than that bunch of sociopaths I hang around with, I haven’t felt close to another soul for years. A normal night like this feels weird for me.”
“Those sociopaths would all die for you, you know? I could see that when I first met them.”
Usher nodded.
“I know. It’s mutual.”
Usher’s team were closer than most families would ever be. But they sure weren’t as nice to talk with as the girl sat across the table.
Usher felt the monsters in his mind rattle the bars of their oubliettes.
“It’s just been hard to let go. I’ve seen what the Unseelie do for long enough to know my family are not alive, but...”
“But you need to have a reason to keep going.”
Usher sighed and nodded.
“For so long I felt this freezing anger every morning when I woke up. It’s what kept me sharp, kept me going. But it’s not enough to fuel yourself off hate. You need something better. ”
“You need a bit of hope.”
Usher sipped his coffee then gave her a sad smile.
“I need a bit of hope.”
“Well I make a mean cherry pie. It tastes like hope in pie form. And I shall bake one for you if I get this job tomorrow.”
He cheered his coffee cup gently with Gina’s.
“Where there’s pie there’s hope.”
Gina sipped and then stared wistfully out of the window at the tourists milling about Soho. London was buzzing tonight. Usher heard distant sirens outside, a constant background wail you stop noticing when you live in the old city. He looked at Gina’s 1950’s starlet profile, the way her hair curled naturally at her temples. She looked preoccupied.
“Ok?”
She took a deep breath and faced him.
“Usher, what am I supposed to say to these people tomorrow?”
“Just be yourself, tell them what you saw. I’ve already told them what you did in Carnival.”
“What I did? I was terrified. I could barely keep myself together.”
“Those people looked up to you. You kept them calm when they needed to be and that probably kept us all alive. I told you when we first met, you’re wasted as a waitress.”
“Not here. The service is terrible. Is this supposed to be an American themed diner?”
“Yeah, welcome to The UK.”
“You actually think there’s a chance your people going to employ me? What transferable skills to I offer? You sure they won’t just make me… disappear?”
Gina mimed cocking a pistol with her fingers.
Usher stifled a laugh.
“Gina, what are we doing now?”
“We’re having coffee.”
“Are you rocking back and forward, muttering to yourself and quoting the Old Testament?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Because a few weeks ago you witnessed your hometown being destroyed by undead, vampires, and a sorcerer from another world. And no matter how much of a bastard he was, you saw your husband killed in front of you. Most people would be insane. You? You’re made of sterner stuff. That’s the type of person that can flourish in the STG. The kind that can take that sort of shit and keep going.”
Gina shook her perfect head.
“I’m scared Thom. Now I know the truth. The things that are out there. I’m scared. Aren’t you?”
Usher set his jaw and fixed her gaze.
“All the time. Scared is good. It’s useful. It’s your friend.”
Gina seemed to gather her courage, and then she nodded and smiled at him.
“I’ll do my best for you Usher.”
He smiled at her and gave a little shrug.
“I know you will.”
They sat in silence for a few moments. Over the odour of burnt coffee Usher could smell her cherry lip gloss and French perfume. It was a nice change from blood and cordite. He felt a flicker of hope that the world was not entirely monstrous. This young woman, with no military training and no experience, had helped them fight the worst infestation the Unseelie Court had ever thrown at them. Not only that, despite her own fear she had treated the weaker townsfolk with compassion and strength.
Gina leaned in with her perfect brows furrowed.
“Has there been any word? About your friend Ariel?”
Usher felt his fingers tighten on the handle of his coffee mug.
&n
bsp; “Nothing.”
“He’s still missing?”
Usher felt his blood run cold. He promised himself that he would keep Ariel alive in the field. Promised.
“Dr Speedman is currently MIA. We have no information as to his whereabouts.”
Gina placed a manicured hand on his.
“That’s a soldier talking, Thom. He’s your friend. Obviously one of your best friends. He’s not a lost piece of equipment. How do you feel?”
Usher cleared his throat and focussed on his coffee.
“It’s not easy for people like me to talk about this.”
Gina rolled her eyes then gave him her warmest smile.
“I know that you secret agent guys have your coping mechanisms Usher. But the things you’ve seen? Over all those years? I had one night of being exposed to what the Unseelie Court had to offer and I still haven’t had a proper night’s sleep since.”
Usher looked inward for a moment, glancing into his library of dark memories.
“Carnival was a bad one. No shame in that. I wake up in a cold sweat most nights.”
“You can’t keep it inside Usher. You’ll explode. “
Usher peered out of the diner window at the traffic. An open top tour bus trundled past filled with Japanese tourists. Some of them waved in at the restaurant diners.
“Gina, I’ve lost so many people over the years. People that became more like a family than a family. We don’t need to wail and wear black hats in public. We internalize it. Usually we make some poor taste joke out of it. But we all know what we feel. In my job, we don’t honour our dead by crying, we honour them by fighting harder in their name. Can you understand that?”
Gina nodded.
The Last Line Series One Page 59