Twisted Wings

by J Wells

  “Mortality only brings trouble. Without the amber sheen in their eyes they are no longer vampires, nor members of my family. Edmond, get them out of my castle.”

  “But, Lucian—”

  “Now!” I demand, though he doesn’t obey and continues.

  “When you enter the dungeon, look into the eyes of Harrold, Julian and Felix, and you will see that they too are unchanged.”

  “Well, likewise, take them out with the women,” I order.

  I see his hesitance; he seems in no great haste to comply with my wishes. I grab his cravat and yank him towards me.

  “Oh, so now I see.” I scowl into his face. “I suggest that when they leave, you join them.”

  I step into the open doorway.

  “Julian, Harrold, Felix!” I shout.

  It seems they know, as they walk past me and join Edmond.

  I enter the gunnery and close the door. My family stand against the walls, their heads hiding many of my wall-mounted pistols. Their feet stamp on the dusty floor, and they clap their hands and cheer. My eyes dart towards Tristan, who cries out, throwing his head from side to side. He sits in a chair positioned centrally in the room, secured by thick metal chains to the floor, his feet shackled to the chair legs. I look into his face, which is bruised and has many deep cuts.

  Caspar stands to the left of the chair. He sees me and grins, like he has a prize to proudly present. His eyes hold the deepest amber glare I have ever seen, and his expression is one of elation. His fists are clenched and covered in bloodied knuckledusters. His fists fly at Tristan’s cheeks, head and chin.

  I step forward and raise my hand. The chanting and hand clapping stop. Caspar turns away from Tristan and, seeing my gesture, drops his arms and stands aside.

  Tristan cries out in pain, spitting blood and several teeth from between his swollen lips.

  “Rose…” he splutters.

  “You need not worry about Rose, she’s with Jazlynn,” I snap.

  Stepping forward, I lean down into his face.

  “You’re an angel, why are you so weak? Why are you so pathetic? With the powers you have why do you not fight for your life?”

  “Perhaps because I don’t care. I know death, and it doesn’t scare me. Rose is the only one I will fight for. There is so much more to her than any of you know.”

  “Well go on then, enlighten me, why is she so special? And is she really worth dying for?”

  “An explanation would mean nothing to you; you have nothing to gain if I tell you, and even if I did, you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Don’t patronise me, angel.” My eyes narrow. “Enough of your mind games. This is how real men settle a score. The rules are simple: five pistols each, six chambers, one bullet.”

  Looking at Reggie, I click my fingers.

  “A table, the pistols!” I holler.

  I point my finger towards Caspar.

  “The bullets.”

  My head flicks back round to Tristan.

  “You will be in possession of a single silver bullet, and I a gold one. Tonight only one of us will leave this room alive.”

  Reggie places a chair down for me and moves a small bench-like table between Tristan and me, while Benedict unlocks the handcuffs from Tristan’s wrists. One by one Caspar removes the pistols from the wall, wiping off the dust with his jacket sleeve. I walk over to him and rest my chin on his shoulder.

  “One bullet of gold, one of silver,” I remind him. “Now stand back and observe the way in which gentlemen settle their differences.” I keep my voice to a whisper, for I have no need to show him up. “If I die, I want you to take the reins, to look after our family.”

  With assistance from Reggie, all ten guns are placed on the table, five before me, five before Tristan. Caspar reaches out his arm, and we shake hands.

  “Good luck, old boy.”

  Caspar steps back and takes his place against the back wall beside Reggie.

  “Lucian,” Tristan pipes up, “I refuse to put a gun to your head, I refuse to shoot you.”

  I smirk, raising my shoulders.

  “Then this is a game I cannot lose.”

  “Lucian, you can’t kill a friend.”

  As I look into his face and blink, I take a mental picture to remember him by. I laugh.

  “Vampires have no friends, we have no emotion, all I have is myself and my family.”

  I pull back the chair and sit down. I hear Tristan take a deep breath.

  My eyes search the wooden table and I pick up the pistol farthest to my right. I lift it up, pressing it on the bridge of his nose between his eyes. Our eyes lock, and as I pull back the trigger, it clicks. The chamber was empty. I place the gun back down, away from the others. Tristan’s hands stay placed in his lap. He doesn’t look down at the pistols, but across the table at me.

  “Pick up a fucking gun,” I demand.

  “Is this the way you want it to end?”

  “Says he who came to take our souls!” I laugh, swivel round in my chair and look at the faces of my family. “You make a mockery of us, angel.”

  “Lucian, listen to me, let me explain.”

  “I’ve heard enough.”

  Lifting my hand, I beckon to Reggie.

  “Gag the bastard,” I order.

  Reggie removes his jacket and tears some material from the arm. He pushes it with force between Tristan’s lips and then ties it at the back of his head. Unable to speak, Tristan rolls his eyes and sits for a while, looking down. I tap my foot on the floor, my patience about to run out. He lifts his hand from his lap, picks up the pistol adjacent to mine and reaches out towards me. My amber stare meets his steely grey. I watch him pull the trigger, hear the click and watch him discard the empty pistol.

  “Let the games commence,” I call, my lips creasing into a smile.

  “Third gun,” I say, peering up into Tristan’s eyes.

  I can see the sweat and blood mingling on his forehead; he blinks it away as it drips onto his lashes. Again I hold the gun to his brow. Unknowingly I press the trigger as the door shoots open. Edmond runs into the gunnery, and falls to his knees. I leap to my feet.

  “Did I not tell you to get out of my castle?” I roar.

  “Lucian…” Edmond can barely speak for catching his breath. “We left as you requested.”

  He pants, and takes a moment to calm himself.

  “There were lights; the forest was alive with police, dogs on leads, flashlights shone into our eyes. Blinded, we ran far into the forest. I stayed with Elizabeth and held her hand. Arabella and Felix were close behind. I heard the growls and barks of dogs; I heard Chloe scream out, and high-pitched cries from Julian. Lucian, the cops have them! It was far too dangerous, and we dared not go back. We continued to run, circling round the trees for God knows how long. Eventually, we located the hatch and fell down, landing in a heap at the bottom.”

  I stomp my way round Edmond.

  “You are no longer my concern.”

  I pick up incessant crying from the other side of the door. I sniff the dusty air and the familiar scent of suicide flares within my nostrils.

  “What is she doing here?” I snarl, kicking Edmond aside with my boot.

  I poke my head around the open door and peer down. Rose sits scrunched in a ball, her body a mass of involuntary jerks as sobs wrack her small frame. Elizabeth sits crouched behind Rose, her arms clasped around her neck. Her black tresses have lost their sheen, now matted with blood.

  My focus returns to Edmond, who still kneels on the gunnery floor.

  “What the fuck happened to Rose?”

  He shakes his head. I can hear the legs of Tristan’s chair screeching across the concrete floor, and then his muffled cries.

  “Caspar, unlock the angel,” I order.

  Caspar lifts a gun from the table, holds out his hand and passes it to me.

  “Lucian, the game.”

  “Fuck the game, do as I say.”

  I gaze down at Elizabeth.<
br />
  “Were you with her? Do you know what happened?”

  “No, Lucian, she won’t speak to any of us.”

  I look around the empty hallway, and my gaze returns to Rose.

  “And where, may I ask, is Jazlynn?”

  With a slight tilt of her head, Rose peeps up at me between her folded arms. Her pretty face with its bronzed complexion is now every shade of blue, her cheeks and lips swollen and grazed.

  “Elizabeth, did you not feel her pain?”

  “No, the only pain I can feel is my own.”

  “My God,” I babble. “You’re human, Elizabeth, you’re fucking human.”

  Tristan’s arm brushes against mine as he stands at my side in the doorway. He drops to his knees, and scooping up Rose in his arms he strides back into the gunnery. With a sweep of his arm he sends the pistols to the floor. Gently he lays Rose on the bench-like table. I hear the gasps of my family.

  “Take a long, hard look!” Tristan yells.

  As he does so, the very foundations around us tremble and groan. The dried blood on his cheeks glistens, and I watch as the renewed droplets make their way between his open cuts, which seal upon entry. The swelling and bruises on his face have gone.

  “Which one of you bastards did this?”

  I look to Caspar, and see his teeth lengthen. The scent of Rose’s blood is all around us; how can we not thirst for it? It is all that we are, all we desire.

  “She’s dead … Jazlynn is dead!” Rose cries between lengthening sobs.

  Tristan’s head shoots round and the foundations lie still.

  I reach down and grab her wrist as her limp body falls against my chest, her touch reawakening my heart.

  “What do you mean, she’s dead?” I shout into her face.

  Her tear-filled eyes make their way towards mine.

  “She can’t die, she’s a vampire. Only silver bullets or sunlight can kill her.”

  Rose shakes her head. “I’m so sorry, Lucian,” she wails. “She was human … there was nothing I could do.”

  It is like a large metal clamp has been tightened around my heart; as I hold Rose, I die inside for my lost love. My body, my very existence is being choked of life. I feel Tristan’s hand on my shoulder; he is pulling me back, away from Rose.

  “No!” I snap, hitting out. “Leave me, I need to feel this.”

  His hold loosens and is gone. The ache that explodes within me turns into an insatiable anger.

  “Who, Rose, who was it?” I grasp her shoulders. “Who was it, who was it?” I shout, her head jerking back and forth as I shake her between my hands.

  I feel Tristan’s fingers as I am grabbed by the neck. I turn, pummelling my fists against the firmness of his chest. My teeth lengthen as my eyes lock onto his jugular vein. I flinch from his embrace, though his arms entrap me. I fight with force to escape, but my resilience soon turns to tears.

  “I’m so sorry, Lucian…”

  I hear a softness in Tristan’s voice. I feel my teeth retract and stand, letting out my grief in the arms of an angel.

  “Rose, what happened?”

  It is Caspar’s voice I hear.

  “I swear it was none of your family. I was upset, Jazlynn found me; we hitched a lift to my flat. I popped my key into the lock, but the door was already open.”

  Tristan’s arms loosen. We both turn towards Rose, who now has an audience.

  “Go on,” Caspar prompts.

  She lifts her hands, and I watch as she feels the open cuts and grazes on her face. Flinching, she continues.

  “We walked through the hallway into the lounge. I barely had time to turn on the light before the dark figure of a man launched himself at me, holding me against the door. I can still feel the rough skin on his hands as he grabbed my breasts, ripping the front of my dress. His kisses tasted of whisky.” She screws up her nose. “It made me gag.”

  I look down at her chest, her ripped gown, and the red scratches he’d left behind.

  “Rose, tell me he didn’t…”

  “No, Tristan,” she mumbles with a shake of her head. “I screamed at the top of my voice. Jazlynn jumped on him and wrapped her legs around his waist. Guess he wasn’t expecting me to have company.” Her eyes focus directly on me. “Lucian, I saw the flash of a blade; I saw the knife he held in his hand.” She drops her eyes. “He was like an animal. I can still hear Jazlynn’s cries.”

  How could anyone hurt someone as lovely as she? I can’t bring my mind to accept it.

  “I heard her body fall to the floor,” Rose continues. “The man blamed me, said it was my fault, that he never intended killing anybody. I felt the force of his fists and my head cracked against the door. There was some kind of commotion outside the flat. He threw me away from him and I stumbled into the middle of the lounge. Then he turned and ran.”

  “Tell me, Rose, who was it?” I spit out. My teeth lengthen, not for blood, but for revenge.

  “Lucian, I think it’s best you don’t know.”

  “Edmond, shut the fuck up!”

  “Rose, if you know, tell us.” As Tristan speaks, he cups her face in his hands. “I know how I’d feel if it were you.”

  Rose sits up, her ripped skirt revealing her bare legs as they dangle down over the table.

  “One good turn deserves another.”

  I scrunch up my face in confusion. “What?”

  “That was what he said. I recognised his face; he was there the night you took me to The Silken Kite.”

  I close my eyes and let my mind wander back to that night. Of course, she sat next to him at the bar. I frown. How could he have known her address? I roll my eyes. It was staring me in the face: the CV we left on the bar.

  “Alex Scott of 42 Maple Drive,” I mutter under my breath and turn my attention to my family. “There’s something I must do.”

  Tristan turns to face me, offering me an open-mouthed smile.

  “This is something we both must do.”

  He stretches his hand towards me. There is a hesitance on my part, but after a moment of thought I take it in mine and we shake.

  “Lucian, you can’t! Remember the rules … he’s human,” Reggie shouts.

  Caspar takes him by the shoulder.

  “Let the dark angels come; we shall gather golden bullets in readiness. If we are to die, we shall go down fighting.”

  “Edmond, take Rose to the Iris bedchamber; Elizabeth can look after her. What we have to do won’t take long.”

  Tristan pats his hand on my shoulder and the two of us walk from the gunnery. We stand together directly under the hatch, my ears bombarded by the barking of dogs and the sound of boots traipsing through the forest.

  “Damn it,” I curse. “The car, I left it in town, with no tax and God knows how many unpaid parking tickets. It’s probably been towed away, so now what?” I huff, scratching my head.

  “Lucian, I don’t think we need a car.”

  The mood is sombre and no smiles pass between us. I feel totally lost in this world. My heart breaks the same way I intend to break Alex Scott’s neck. I wait a while as the footsteps above us move on. I open the hatch and gaze out; my senses tell me that it is clear. We pull ourselves from the confines of the tunnel and out into the forest. I step aside, allowing Tristan space to open his wings.

  I can feel my teeth grinding together.

  “42 Maple Drive.”

  He nods and we leave the ground.

  The fresh forest air is replaced by the stench of unemptied bins, beer bottles and cigarette smoke. Closed in by bricks, we land in a shithole of bricked-up houses with boarded windows.

  “Number 36,” Tristan calls out.

  Avoiding the street lights so as not to be seen, we make our way to the left and continue farther on down the street. A broken gate, charred and splintered, hangs from its hinges. I rattle the paint-stripped front door with my hand; it’s locked. Tristan nudges me and points up towards the first floor, where a bedroom window has been left partial
ly open. I see him turn and look up and down the street, then with his wings spread wide he leaps forward and crouches down on the window ledge, his arm disappearing behind the glass. The window opens and straddling his legs, he lets himself in.

  With a click of the latch, the door swings wide open and I step into the hall. The stale smell of pot hangs off the walls. The ground floor is in darkness, but my gaze is drawn towards a dim light hovering above the stairs. I glance up between the banisters to the ceiling where a bulb hangs from a flex.

  As quietly as possible, we make our way up the staircase. A continual flow of running water makes its way into my ears and my senses are so heightened that I can almost feel it trickling down my back. I feel my jaw lock and my razor-sharp teeth piercing my tongue. The anger I feel is like a pain that thunders through my head. I jerk forward and my body shakes as I place my hand around the dome-shaped door knob.

  “Wait…” Tristan whispers.

  I lean against the door and lower my eyelids. I can hear the bastard in the shower, singing; this will be the last shower he ever has.

  “Lucian, let’s do this.”

  I see the honesty in Tristan’s face as he stands at my side, prepared to do whatever he can to help. Then I think back to Rose, who awaits his return at the castle. I saw them dancing together, the meeting of their eyes, I saw their love. But what do I have? I shake my head. I have nothing.

  “You will look after her, won’t you?”

  I see the frown that falls upon Tristan’s face and his grey eyes seem to darken. He steps towards me, but I lift my hand and push him back towards the stairs.

  “Tristan, go home, go back to Rose.”

  Before he has a chance to answer, I’ve opened the door and stepped inside the bathroom. With hardly a sound, I close the door and lock it behind me; there is no way in. A blue and lemon shower curtain is all that separates me from Alex Scott. Steam rises from the bath where he stands beneath the wall-mounted shower head. I walk toward the washbasin and gaze into the mirror, which is now devoid of my reflection. His gold watch lies on a glass shelf just below, which I knock off with my finger. As it clatters to the tiled floor, his singing stops.