by LJ Swallow
"Unusual. Only two are here, Dex stayed at the Institute."
"The Institute, huh. That sounds important."
"I'm sure your guys mentioned it. My guys told me the Horsemen aren't fans of the place."
She chuckles. "If they're not in charge, the Horsemen aren’t happy. I told the guys you're on the same side as us, and that's what matters."
I admire her optimism as she orders drinks for the three of them. Xander and Ewan continue to watch from the doorway and their eyes track me as I walk over to the table. Uncrossing his arms, Xander leads Ewan over. He sits opposite Cillian and Morgan, and as Vee joins him, he shuffles closer and wraps an arm around her shoulder. Ewan sits the other side, bodies touching.
The five have an interesting relationship with Vee at the centre, and the men never touch another girl. Judging by the chemistry with each and every guy, I understand why Vee can't choose. And if she doesn't, how does the whole 'five' thing work? I’ve asked, but Vee is coy about the situation.
I tried two men once. That was enough for me. Any more than that? Too many dicks for comfort.
I shake the inappropriate thoughts from my head. Xander's the one who confuses me. I never expected he'd restrict himself to one woman, let alone one who spends time in other guys’ beds too. But I see this is different. I don’t understand, but I’m aware how strong the bond is between them. Perhaps it was the weird bond from their creation at first, but now this is their choice.
I side-glance the two men with me. Dex has shown his obvious interest, and there are definite undercurrents with Cillian and Morgan. What would happen if we became closer? This time, I take a deep drink to distract myself from those thoughts.
Xander pulls out a dagger and places it on the table between us, fixing his eyes on Cillian, arms crossed. Cillian chuckles at Xander's immediate aggression.
"You'd need more than a dagger to take us on," growls Morgan.
"We have more than a dagger," Xander retorts in his smooth English accent.
"Well, it's nice to finally meet you." Cillian interrupts and extends a hand. His slender pale fingers are a contrast to Xander's tanned skin. They shake—reluctantly, judging by Xander’s expression.
"Syv says you're not a demon." Ewan flicks a look in Cillian's direction. "But you look weird. Not fae-like either, but no way are you human. What are you?"
Cillian's full mouth purses. He attracted attention when we walked in, many unable to hide their fascination at how his white hair became silver in the club's lights. His blue eyes glowed as he surveyed his surroundings. Do many recognise what this tall, unusual man is?
"I'm an elemental."
Xander stands. "What the fuck? Get out. Now."
Vee places a hand on his sleeve. "We knew Syv's friends were Dwellers, Xan."
"I told you, they're working with a group who want to help," I put in. "Calm the fuck down."
Ewan makes a derisive noise. "You mean the one led by outsiders who don't belong in this world?"
Thankfully I'm the only one to hear Morgan mutter about hypocrisy. He’s half-right. The Horsemen are outsiders too and, however important the guys think they are, they don't belong in the world either.
"Yes. Outsiders who help fix the problems caused by events involving you last year." Cillian's voice remains calm and even. "We don't interfere in your work. You can stay out of ours."
"You protect unpredictable, dangerous people. We’re not fucking happy about that." Ewan jabs a finger at Cillian. "And I'm watching everything. If one of your new Dweller gang steps out of line, we’ll kill them. Then we come for you."
"You never told me your friend was this eloquent and friendly," Cillian says to me but with his eyes remaining on Ewan.
This was a bad idea.
Cillian switches his gaze to Xander. "I think you should sit and talk."
"You have five minutes. I'm not a fan of elementals," growls Xander and takes his seat again. "A fire elemental tried to kill me."
"That elemental was helping the god. As with most races, there are good and bad individuals," Cillian replies.
"Precisely, and we don't know who can be trusted. Eradicating the whole lot of you would prevent issues."
Cillian's face sours at Xander's words. "Eradicating? These people aren't weeds growing. They're stuck here but want to fit in. You need to focus on your existing problems and let us focus on supporting Dwellers."
"Like you're running some kind of outreach program?" Ewan snorts a laugh.
"What type of elemental are you, then?" interrupts Xander.
The two lock gazes, silent, challenging. "A powerful one."
"And what about you?" Ewan asks Morgan flicking a look in his direction. "You don't look weird, like your mate does."
Morgan's human appearance hides the power beneath—a power stronger than any I've detected for a long time. This younger guy with the strange tattooed marks hidden beneath his clothes may look ordinary, but I've witnessed how not-ordinary he is.
"I'm not like Cillian. I deal in a different type of magic."
I wait for Ewan and Xander's reaction. Although the guys met many magic dealers over the years, what would they think of Morgan's unusual talents?
"Really. And what sort of Dweller is your third? Syv told us there are three of you. Where is he?" Ewan gestures around the club.
"He's not here." Morgan says tersely. "Where are the other Horsemen?"
"Not here."
Vee interrupts with a sigh. "Maybe now you have the friendly introductions out of the way, we can discuss Syv's problem."
"Syv? Show them."
I yank up my sleeve, not looking, because earlier the fifty pence-sized mark had grown. Ewan reaches out a hand then hesitates; I nod to indicate he can touch.
"Maybe we should've brought Joss," he says. "He could help detect what this is."
"We know what the mark is," says Morgan. "We've come to ask for help with research."
Xander nods and the expression on his face chills me. Disbelief. Worry.
"Have you seen this before, Xander?" I ask.
"Once. The outcome wasn't good." Why do people keep saying that?
"Okay!" Morgan interrupts. "Let's talk about Syv's and not one seen in the past."
A worried Horseman, especially Xander, scares me. "Did you find any information on Nephilim?" I ask Ewan and Vee.
They glance at each other and Ewan drags hair from his face. "Not much. The last record found on our message boards is from a few years ago. That was from the guy who has crazy theories about angels."
"Which are not too crazy now we know they exist," adds Xander.
"Yeah. Anyway. The guy or girl on the boards worked in a hospital somewhere. She claimed to have proof that a kid was born Nephilim."
Morgan sits straight. "Who? Where?"
"No name. She disappeared. Never posted again."
"Shit." I run a hand through my hair. "Dead?"
"Probably. Angels don't like interference, as we know." Xander's tone hardens and he takes a deep breath. "This kid may or may not exist, but if he's alive and is Nephilim, I doubt he'll want to donate a bone."
I swallow. I'm expecting to search for a relic, not a living, breathing collection of bones.
"Maybe he has relatives?" I suggest.
"Or maybe we know shit," mutters Morgan. He pushes his glass away and the contents spill. "We need to cure Syv so she can help us."
"Um," puts in Vee. "And because she doesn't deserve to die, maybe?"
"Thank you, Vee," I say and scowl at Morgan. "Apparently I won't die. I'll become a lich."
Ewan snaps his head up. "Man, that would suck."
Suck. "Like walking the earth forever at the command of a necromancer? Yeah, Ewan. High on the suckage scale."
"Ignore him. You know how he's bad at choosing the right words." Vee ruffles his hair and he swats at her hand. "We need to get onto this and quickly. I'll track down all history of this message and hopefully trace back to the woma
n."
"Aren't the message board replies gone?" asks Cillian. "You said they're from a year ago."
Ewan scratches his nose and continues his distrustful look at the guys. "Vee and me are skilled in that area. We can find info, but the rest is up to you. We're not getting involved past research. You deal with the practical side."
Xander nods at me. "Have you asked the Collector if he knows anything about Nephilim yet?"
"Why? He never knew angels existed, I doubt he'd know anything." The thought crossed my mind a few times, back and forth like an indecisive chicken crossing the road. Normally, I would've returned straight to the Collector for help, but we had a fight recently. I refused to drop a well-paid assignment to deal with his urgent request. Col doesn't like being refused. Our mutual stubbornness kept us apart since. "I'm not sure when I'll next see him."
Vee's brow puckers. "Everything okay, Syv?"
"No. I'm dying."
"With you and Col, I mean."
I shuffle in my seat. "We're not an item. We don't live each other’s lives. He's going through a moody phase."
Morgan splutters. "A moody, immortal fae. Yeah, I’d be pissed off if I was immortal. Life would get tedious being the same person all the time."
I look at him in surprise. "Aren't you? I thought you weren't human."
"Kind of but not. I have a human body that won’t contain me forever. I need a new one regularly."
Cillian smiles. "Immortality gets old after a few hundred years, even if I don't."
"You're immortal too?" I blink at him.
Cillian nods.
I clap my hands together. "Wow. Maybe I should accept the lich thing. I could join the immortal gang sitting here."
"Syv, it's okay." Morgan's voice lowers and his attention continues to surprise me. "We'll fix this. I promise."
Vee reaches across and touches me too with another sympathetic smile. My chest tightens, head aching. Something unusual happens.
I feel like I'm going to cry.
Oh fuck.
I hastily stand before my eyes leak. "’kay, well, since I'm here, I'm grabbing some gear from my digs, to take to the Institute. You guys can talk and fill me in on what we need to do when I have my bags."
Cillian's eyes widen. "You're agreeing to come and live with us?"
"Yeah, but I haven't decided whether I'll take that contract yet." I pick up my glass and drain the contents. "But your bed is better than mine."
"How would you know? You haven't tried my bed yet." Cillian's manner from the other night returns.
I place the glass down and lean across, face centimetres from Cillian's. "Yet."
As I head away, I don't miss Xander wishing Cillian good luck in dealing with me. Coming from the out-of-reach man tamed by the girl beside him, that's funny.
12
I won't miss living in two rooms where the curtains won't close properly. One with a tiny bedroom where the morning sun interrupts my sleep and intensifies my hungover headaches. Nor will I miss the suspicious stains on the walls and carpet. In my life, blood comes in all colours and consistencies, and can be dangerous. I've avoided touching. Besides, cleaning is a dirty word to me.
The noise from the club never bothered me because I'm a night owl in both business and pleasure. I'm exhausted by the amount of time I've been awake over the last day and need decent sleep. I resist flopping onto the bed and taking a nap.
The main allure of the guys’ base, beside the three men prepared to do anything I need, is the safety and quiet. An ancient god, who was the most powerful entity in the universe, attempted to kill me six months ago. My paranoia levels jumped since then, and I watch my back more carefully than before. I hate to admit that Xander's right—we don't know who friends are and who are enemies in this new world order.
The god revealed the supernatural to the world. Although most of his footage was debunked, a hardcore group still believe the video clips and photos show real creatures. These humans are determined to prove there are 'those who live amongst us'. The Four Horsemen hate this makes their life more difficult. The Order are pissed off because this puts their activities under more scrutiny.
Anybody with mind-control abilities can earn a pretty penny these days. And, as I know, large sums of money help the underworld go around.
I shove my sad collection of belongings into two rucksacks. The narrow stairs creak as I stomp down them in my boots, spinning my keyring around my fingers, ready to pass on to the landlord and club owner, Sim. His office is at a quieter end of the building. Close to the staff room I occasionally snooze in if I don't have the energy to walk upstairs after a heavy night.
Arguing voices travel along the hallway and, as I get closer, I realise the voices are from behind Sim's door. Often Sim and the chief barman Arun argue. Nobody but fae are supposed to frequent here, but Arun allows vamps in if they offer a backhander. The Horsemen are tolerated, as am I. Is this confrontation about Cillian and Morgan drinking in the bar? Dwellers aren't welcome here. Not unusual—they're not welcome anywhere.
"I need to see Syv. Where is she?"
Normally words like that would cause an eye roll. I'm used to people pursuing me and hear the words a lot. This guy's words are filled with an entitlement I've heard many times, but fortunately not recently.
A guy I never wanted to see again.
Bastian. My last fae lover. And, by last, I mean never again. These people are an intense race who don't handle rejection. And rejecting them is bloody hard. Try, and they'll talk you around until you agree black is actually white. Guess how many large law firms are run by fae? Ending our relationship took work, and I found myself agreeing to stay over and over, thanks to his manipulative magic.
In the end, I left the country for three months.
The door opens and the reason I fell for this fae stands before me. Many fae are too skinny for my liking. I prefer a man with more muscle but, the first time Bastian kissed me when I was drunk, he changed my mind. Bastian smells and tastes as amazing as his violet eyes, shining white gold hair and perfect face look. I'm never starry-eyed over guys, but this one did wicked things to my insides with just one kiss. He still does wicked things to my insides—he sickens my stomach. Fae girls clamber for his attention, and he amuses himself with them.
When he couldn't keep my attention, things went pear-shaped.
I told him we were one night only. Then I agreed to a weekend since the sex was bloody amazing. This became a week, and the next thing I knew we were a couple. I accused him of using magic to keep me, which he denied. I swear he did. Hell, he even had me cooking him breakfast.
To this day, I don't understand why the fae aristocrat wanted a relationship with the dodgy demon girl. Vee suggested a reason that makes sense—he wanted to control the uncontrollable.
Control is his favourite pastime.
Bastian the Bastard looks no different to when I saw him nine months ago, and the effect is the same. Churning stomach and perspiration break out along my back. His veiled threats echo in my ears.
"Syv?" he asks in his low, seductive tones.
"Hey, Bastian." Sim appears in the doorway behind. "Sim, I wanted to hand my keys over. I'm moving out. Thanks for the room."
The middle-aged fae narrows his eyes at me. Fae keep their youthful looks for years, but this guy's have been ravaged by magic and alcohol. "You haven't paid this month's rent."
"Uh." One wary eye on Bastian, I fumble into my back pocket and pull out a folded bundle of notes. "A hundred?"
"Two."
Scowling, I flick through. I'm not hanging around to argue when I want to get away from my ex who's staring unashamedly at my tits.
"Here." I push notes into the guy's hand and nod at Bastian. "Sorry. I can't stop."
Halfway along the hallway, the door to the main club is in sight, but I'm stopped when a hand grabs mine and pulls me back. My chest tightens and I ready myself to run.
"Syv. I need to talk to you."
; Dragging my arm away, I turn. "I'm kinda busy. Maybe some other time?"
"You said that nine months ago." His beautiful face shows no sign of the cold I know exists in his heart.
I give a tight smile. "I lost track of time. Hectic few months, busy saving the world, y'know."
He wraps an arm around my waist and draws me to him. "We had something special, Syv. You told me you loved me."
What the fuck? "I don't think I did. They're not three words I string together."
"You did." I struggle as he grips me tighter and places a cheek on my hair. "My beautiful girl. I've missed you."
The romance in his words hold darker undertones and they come to the surface the more I struggle. "You're mine, Syv. You were always mine." The arm around my waist squashes my insides.
"Bastian, you’re hurting me."
"You hurt me." His tone switches from cajoling to harsh whispers in my ear. "You embarrassed me. Now you need to let the world know you're mine again."
Really.
Not.
Happening.
An icy blast of air thrown along the hallway interrupts my incoming 'knee-to-his-fae-crotch' move. The air circles around us like a localised whirlwind and tears Bastian's arms from my body. I stumble back and stare in disbelief at the sight before me. Bastian is suspended several metres in the air and surrounded by a mini tornado blurring his face from view. The rushing sound around prevents me hearing the words he yells at the person behind me.
I look over my shoulder.
Cillian.
13
Arms and palms outstretched as he focuses magic, Cillian looks between us. Sim stands behind, hands on hips, but mouth gaping in shock. "Hey! What's his sort doing in here?"
"Cillian's with me, " I retort. "He's uh... jealous."
Cillian drops his arms and, as he does, Bastian drops to the floor, unceremoniously landing on his knees. "What?"
"I don't give a shit," continues Sim. "He's one of those Dwellers, isn't he? Fae only in here. This is supposed to be a sanctuary for us."
"Who is he?" demands Bastian and pulls himself upright. "What are you doing with lowlifes?"