Blood and Feathers

by Lou Morgan

  “Morning.”

  “Hi,” she said, still groggy.

  “There’s breakfast. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.” Alice couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten. Whenever it was, it was most likely something Mallory had put together, which meant it would have been delivered pizza. Possibly a couple of days old. The thought of real food made her head spin. Vin steered her down the hallway and towards the kitchen.

  “Word of advice,” he said. “Don’t let Florence cook you anything. Anything. Not even toast, you get me?”

  “She’s not good in the kitchen?”

  “Girl’s a disaster. Trust me. She made me scrambled eggs once and it nearly killed me. And I’m an angel. I’m hard to kill.” He nudged open the door at the end of the corridor. “Look who’s up!”

  “Alice!” Florence looked up from a newspaper, and Jester waved a spoon at her, his mouth full of cereal. Florence stood up from the table and pointed at a large red fridge. “You want anything? I can get something together if you...”

  “No!” Vin said, a little too quickly. Florence looked wounded and he patted Alice’s shoulder. “She’s still a bit woozy. Maybe just give her a minute.” He parked her on a chair at the table. “Drink the tea. Accept nothing,” he whispered.

  Alice settled into her chair, sipping her drink, and then she jerked away from the table; the mug falling away from her and shattering on the floor, the chair clattering against the tiles. Her hands. She held them in front of her, staring down into the palms. They had felt so hot, she had been expecting to see flames. She had been sure...

  Vin’s hands settled on her shoulders. “It’s just the drink, Alice. It’s alright. Nothing’s going to happen to you. You’re safe.” He picked up the chair and pressed her into it, while Florence mopped up the spilled tea, scooping the broken china into her hands.

  “I’m sorry,” Alice said, but Florence shook her head.

  “Never liked that mug anyway. Gift from one of his exes.”

  She raised an eyebrow at her brother, who wrinkled his nose and turned his attention back to his breakfast. Vin poured himself a coffee and wandered away to the living room, leaving Florence staring at Alice. Finally, she spoke. “So, you’re the one they’ve been talking about, huh?”

  Alice shrugged. “I... guess. I’m sorry, I don’t know much...”

  “Of course you don’t. They don’t share – not in their nature.”

  “You say ‘they.’ So you’re not....?”

  “Earthbounds? God, no. We’re half-born, just like you. Well. Maybe not just like you, but you get what I mean. Vin’s our Mallory. He was sent to prepare us for when the gifts started kicking in. Not that they’re doing very much yet.” Florence looked a little embarrassed.

  “What can you... wait. You know Mallory?”

  “Everyone knows Mallory. He’s the closest thing the Earthbounds have to a general. He’s hardcore. You’re lucky.” Florence sounded almost wistful.

  Vin’s voice drifted through from the next room. “I can hear you, you know!”

  “Fortunately for Vin,” Florence said, louder than was entirely necessary, “we’re such good students that we never need him around for long, and he’s free to piss off back to Hong Kong.”

  “Anything to get away from you two,” Vin replied, and Florence stuck her tongue out at the door. “Don’t do that. You’ll stick like that if the wind changes.”

  “There is no way you saw that!”

  “Nope. But I know you, Florence. Now leave me be.”

  “He is so rude,” Florence said, turning back to Alice. “Sorry. He takes a bit of getting used to.”

  “He’s fine. I’m not sure how I’d have managed without him last night... the other night.”

  “I heard. You took out one of the Fallen. That’s really impressive. I’ve never heard of a half-born doing that on their own before. We don’t have the strength, I guess. But you? No wonder they’re making a big deal of you.”

  Jester dropped his spoon into his bowl and pushed it across the table. “Can we see it?” he asked, reaching towards Alice.

  She frowned and drew back. “See what?”

  She saw Florence shake her head slightly at Jester. “I don’t think she knows yet,” she hissed.

  He looked taken aback, then embarrassed. “Oh. Sorry.” He paused. “But now she’s wondering what the hell we’re talking about, so we might as well take a look, right?” He gave Alice another of his smiles, and the room felt warmer. “Gimme your hand.” He took her hand, pulling it gently towards him and flipping it over, pushing back her sleeve from her wrist. A memory of white brands in the darkness flashed across her mind. “Jackpot,” said Jester, pointing at a dark smudge on her wrist.

  “What? Let me see!” Florence was all elbows, scrambling to look over Alice’s shoulder. “No. Way.”

  “And we’re looking at what, exactly?” Alice asked, feeling uncomfortable.

  “The mark.”

  “And that would be...”

  “Didn’t Mallory tell you?”

  “Apparently he’s too busy being a general. What mark?”

  “Choir mark. First time you really use your gift, it leaves a mark.” Florence picked up Alice’s wrist, turning it this way and that, trying to get a closer look. “It’s the mark of your choir, see?” She held out her own wrist, which on closer examination had a long squiggle across the back of it, a sort of jumble of the number three, a long line and the letters v and e.

  “Zadkiel. He’s all about memory and the mind and stuff.” she said. Alice nodded sagely, despite not having the faintest idea what Florence meant. It didn’t seem to bother either of the twins, who were already bent over Alice’s hand: she wished she could take it off, and leave it on the table for them to pore over.

  “I’m not even going to ask,” said Vin from the doorway.

  Florence barely looked up, but pointed to Alice’s hand. “It’s coming through, look!”

  “Seriously?” Vin was across the room faster than Alice had ever seen him move – even in the graveyard – and shoving the other two out of the way. Now there were three people peering at her hand.

  “Can’t you make it any clearer?” Jester asked. Vin sighed.

  “You did not see me do this, you hear?” He placed the flat of his palm over the back of Alice’s wrist, and she was aware of a tremendous pressure. She tried to pull her hand away, but Vin held it in a vice-like grip. “Don’t... move,” he said through gritted teeth, and then the pressure faded and he released her. She let her arm drop to the table, not noticing that Florence’s endless chattering and fidgeting had stopped.

  “Alice? Look.” Vin pointed to her hand, and she leaned forward, somehow reluctant to move it. She was starting to want to keep a healthy distance between her hands and the rest of her. But there it was: right in the middle of her wrist, where the ashy smudge had been moments before, there was a clear mark, similar to Florence’s. Only it wasn’t similar; not at all. While Florence’s looped and swirled, the thing on Alice’s arm was jagged and hard-edged, totally alien.

  Vin let out a whistle. “Like we needed convincing.”

  “What is it?”

  “That? That’s Michael’s sigil. You’re his, alright.” He shook his head. “Man, is Gwyn going to be pissed.”

  “Why? I’d have thought it would make him happy.”

  “Nope. And you know why? Because it was Mallory who was sent for you, not him. He’s a passenger. When it comes to what happens to you, it’s Mallory calling the shots. Gwyn might be the Descended, but Mallory’s the mentor.” His eyes twinkled. “And Gwyn’s not going to like that one little bit.”

  COINCIDENTALLY – OR PERHAPS not – Gwyn turned up soon after that, knocking on the door of the flat hard enough to dent the wood. “Mallory will take care of that,” he said as he strode across the threshold. “Should he ever deign to grace us with his presence.”

  The twins made themselves scarce. They seem
ed uneasy around Gwyn – not surprising, given the hushed arguments he and Vin kept having in corners, all in that language they spoke whenever they didn’t want anyone human to understand them.

  “It’s the language of the Descendeds,” Jester had whispered, when he found her eavesdropping at a door. “It’s, like, some weird angel-speak. Obviously the Earthbounds speak it too, because... you know. But they say that if you Fall, the knowledge is burned out of your mind. Ouch.”

  He shivered comically, but Alice suspected it was true. Gwyn’s little lecture about Mallory had been pretty graphic, and he didn’t exactly strike her as being prone to theatrics. And that was how the next few days went: with Gwyn coming and going, Vin largely watching old horror movies and Jester and Florence doing whatever it was they did. Alice felt awkward being the reason for the invasion of the twins’ home, but if either of them were unhappy about it, they did a good job of hiding it. Besides, she liked them. It was good to spend time in the company of other people. Fond as she’d become of Vin in a short time, he was different, somehow other. The same was true of Mallory. She still didn’t know how she felt about Gwyn, but at least she felt she was beginning to understand him, which was a definite improvement. It didn’t make him any less abrasive (or irritating) but it made him easier to forgive. And at the back of her mind, too, there was still the memory of him striding towards Batarel... Although she was reluctant to admit it, he frightened her.

  There was nothing frightening about Mallory, other than how long he had been gone with no word. Everyone assured her he would show up eventually, but that hadn’t stopped her from worrying, and she continued to worry until he marched through the door and draped himself across the furniture as though he had only been away for a few minutes. “What did you degenerates do to my house? It’s trashed, and it smells of... You know what? I don’t even want to think about what it smells of.” Mallory was clearly furious.

  “I’m afraid it looked like that when we got there. I assumed that was how you’d left it.” Gwyn barely even looked up from the book he was reading.

  “The Fallen?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Bastards.”

  Mallory rolled his leather jacket into a ball and tossed it, and his gun, on the coffee table, as he slumped back into the sofa, and ignoring Florence’s indignant shout about wearing shoes indoors.

  Alice was so relieved to see him that it was all she could do not to hug him, but something stopped her. He looked pale and drawn; there were dark circles under his eyes, and although his smile was as open as ever, it was hiding something. She didn’t need to guess it. She could feel it – an ache somewhere in the middle of her chest that surged over her in a wave as soon as he stepped into the room. But he hurled himself down next to her, kicking off his boots when Florence howled at him, and smiled. “How you doing? Still alive, then?”

  There were so many questions: where had he been, what had he been doing... why had he left her? But he wasn’t going to explain any of it. And it didn’t really matter. All she wanted was to feel safe, to feel normal for a while; now, with Mallory back, she did. For the time being, anyway.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Fire & Water

  “THAT IS THE most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Ever.”

  “Whatever.” Jester shook his head.

  Alice knew she’d made a mistake the second the words were out of her mouth. “I’d love to,” she’d said. Bad idea. But she hadn’t known any better. Vin might have warned her about Florence’s cooking, but no-one had seen fit to wise her up to the twins’ shopping habits. She was tired of being cooped up in the flat, tired of staring out of the windows, tired of pacing the hallways. Tired, and stir-crazy. And so were the twins. It was becoming increasingly apparent that they had imagined this would be some kind of elaborate sleepover... and as time passed, and it dawned on them that their role lay somewhere between prison guard and glorified babysitter, their mood changed, and the flat became even more claustrophobic.

  So when they asked Alice if she wanted to run into town with them, despite all the angels’ warnings about the Fallen (and an argument with Mallory which Florence appeared to have won by threatening to cry), she had been ridiculously glad of the change of scene. It hadn’t occurred to her that it might turn into the longest afternoon of her life. After three hours with Florence trying on every single item of clothing in one shop, Alice was wondering whether this wasn’t, in fact, hell. Now the pair of them were arguing over who had used the last of the milk, just like they had been for the last twenty minutes.

  Alice slumped further back on the bench and stared at her feet. Twenty minutes and they were still going strong. How was it possible to argue about something – anything – for that long? She’d never entirely understood the inner workings of sibling relationships, not having any herself, but if these two were anything to go by it was just as well. Imagine what life would be like if you set fire to your house every time you had a fight with your sister...

  Slowly, she tuned them out, their voices fading into the background. The street was busy, despite the cold wind and the threat of rain. People were hurrying here and there, scurrying about with bags in their hands and harried expressions on their faces. No-one looked like they were having fun. It was comforting: Alice wasn’t having fun either. Quite apart from Jester and Florence, the warning Mallory had given her before she left still rang round her head. “Be careful, Alice. The Fallen will be everywhere. And you don’t know them like we do. You won’t see them coming.”

  “So, what happened to the ‘Wherever you go, I go,’ Mallory from the other day?”

  “Believe me, if I could go with you, I would. But there’s somewhere I have to be,” he tipped his head towards Gwyn. “Vhnori too. It’s important.”

  “And you’re letting me out?”

  “Reluctantly. But Florence has pointed out somewhat forcefully that you can’t spend your life cooped up in here, and she’s right. Hiding doesn’t seem to be doing us much good. Besides” – he smiled – “from what I hear, you took care of yourself pretty well.”

  “Mallory, about that...”

  “Not now. We’ll talk, later. I promise.” He lifted his arm, and for a second she thought he was going to ruffle her hair, but he stopped, and his hand dropped back to his side. “Be careful. They will be out there. Trust your instincts. If something feels wrong, it is wrong.”

  “What about the twins?”

  “They know what to do. If anything happens, they’ll take care of you until help arrives.”

  “You mean until you arrive, right?”

  “Something like that.” He glanced down at his feet. “I have to go, Alice. Stay safe. I’ll see you later.”

  Which left Alice sitting on a bench with the wind biting into her bones, trying not to hear the twins.

  AN ITCH IN her palm made her scrunch her hand tightly into her pocket as she scanned the crowded street. This suddenly didn’t seem like such a good idea. For some reason, she had assumed that she would be safe amongst people. Her control of her gift was – so far – non-existent, and while the empath in her had only connected enough with Mallory and Vin to trigger it, she had thought that a street full of strangers shouldn’t pose a problem. But she had underestimated the force of the crowd: stubbed toes, broken bones, trapped fingers; headaches, backaches, bellyaches... multiplied a thousand-fold and bearing down on her like a truck. The tiniest of needles jabbed at her fingers; pins danced in her palms.

  The world was full of pain, and now she knew it.

  She bunched her fists into her coat and stood up. Neither Jester nor Florence noticed, so busy were they bickering. The subject was obviously irrelevant, so long as they had something to fight about. Without knowing quite why, Alice took a step away from the bench, and before she knew it, she was walking away, fast. It felt... right. She knew she should stop, but something was tugging at her, pulling at her feet and asking her to follow. So she did.

 
She crossed the street, turned down another road and walked. She walked through the doors of a department store, she walked through the perfume hall and down the stairs, down more stairs and more; moving in a daze, she followed her feet until there were no more steps to take and the stairwell ended in a heavy door.

  She was on the lowest level of the department store’s car park. There were a handful of cars around her, but with no lift and a long, concrete climb up to the shopping levels, most drivers opted to sit out the wait for spaces above. Yellow security tape flapped around the edge of a large puddle, the water dripping into it from a split pipe above making a high-pitched plink as each drop fell.

  For the first time that afternoon, Alice relaxed. Her hands felt normal; not the slightest prickle or sting. She flexed her fingers and sighed. Maybe she should try and get some alone time. It was only now, after hours of fearing her hands would give her away – that the fire would spring from nowhere, burning everything it touched but her – that the tension drained from her body. Everything she felt now was her own, the pain her own.

  Somewhere, a door swung closed; the bang echoed through the car park. At that moment, Alice thought, she was alone. Totally alone. She had walked away from the twins and they hadn’t see her go. The Earthbounds and Gwyn were somewhere else; they didn’t even know where she was. She was alone. And if she was alone, she was defenceless.

  Another door banged – or perhaps it was the same one – the sound bouncing off the hard floor and walls. She was defenceless, and she was exposed. Panic bolted her feet to the floor, and she suddenly wondered whether it was all hers. She knew it would be sensible to move – that it was important to move, not just to stand there like a fool – but somehow, she couldn’t find a way to do it. There were footsteps. Where they were coming from, she couldn’t say. They seemed to be everywhere, and whether there were five or fifty people suddenly in there with her... she shut her eyes. It was the only thing she could do.