by H G Lynch
I gave her an approximation of a reassuring smile and shoved my arms through my jacket sleeves, flipping up the collar to shield my neck from the chill. There was still some worry creasing the corners of her eyes, so I said quietly, “I won’t be long, I promise.”
Mum nodded and followed me to the porch. She stood there in the doorway, watching me, as I stalked down the street with streetlights flickering on ahead of me in preparation for the descending darkness of night.
I wandered the streets with my hands in my pockets and my collar flipped up against the chilly wind. It was mostly quiet out, only a handful of other people strolling about in the drizzle. Puddles gleamed on the road under streetlights, laughter and music floated from apartments, and the smell of exhaust fumes and oil filled my nose.
Eventually, the drizzle became a pour, soaking me to the skin, but I kept walking even after everyone else had dived inside to shelter themselves. I liked the rain. It helped clear my head. The water plastered my hair to my head, dripped off my lashes, and ran in icy rivulets down my back. I paused and tipped my head back, closing my eyes to let the drops beat on my eyelids, the rainwater running along the seam of my closed lips. My heart beat slow and steady, my body quivered with the cold, and I finally felt some sense of peace. It felt as if my dirty, bruised soul was being washed clean, some of the grime of my life being sloughed off by the rainwater.
It was almost like freedom. Freedom from the grief, hate, and anger. The world shrank until there was just me, in that moment in time, in the rain.
Then a scream shattered my peace, and my heart bounded into overdrive. My hand went instinctively for the sword at my back—the sword that I’d left under my bed at home. Cursing, I followed the sounds of a scuffle to an alleyway across the street. Edging along the wall to the entrance of the alley, I poked my head around the corner and peered into the darkness. My night vision was better than most, even in the pissing rain, and I could make out the shapes of two figures—one man, looming over a smaller figure that had to be the woman who’d screamed.
No demons. For half a second, my body relaxed. Then I geared back up, grabbed the red leather grip on the handle of my favourite dagger from my ankle sheath, and stepped into the alley. “Hey,” I shouted.
The hooded man whipped toward me. That was when I saw I’d made a mistake. The face under the hood wasn’t human at all. Three large, yellow eyes glared at me over a set of dripping fangs. I hissed a curse—it was a Catchi Demon. Not terribly strong or fast, but those fangs were coated with hemotoxic venom that would break down its victim’s blood vessels until they were leaking the red stuff all over the place.
The woman it had pinned against the wall squeaked and started to cry out, but the demon whipped its clawed hand across her face, and she whimpered. Rage boiled in my blood, and I gritted my teeth.
“Let her go,” I ground out.
The Catchi snarled at me in defiance, its eyes glowing sickly yellow through the rain. Obviously finding me to be a better target, it dropped the woman it was holding, and she slumped to the ground, gasping, too weak or too scared to stand and run. The demon turned on me, its hood falling back to expose the full extent of its ugliness—rows of short, razor-sharp spikes along the top of its skull, all coated in venom.
My dagger was concealed in my sleeve, the cold metal laid against my forearm. I felt totally under armed without my sword, but I’d taken on bigger demons with less. I felt certain I could take the monster out, and as the adrenaline buzzed in my veins, I grinned. I needed the fight.
The Catchi lunged, and I slid my dagger into my palm, bringing it up as quick as a whip. I spun to avoid being rammed, lashing out with the blade, and caught the demon in a wide arc across its chest as its momentum pushed it past me. It whirled around, neon green blood leaking down its chest, and leapt at me again. I tried to dodge, but my foot slipped in something on the alley floor. I didn’t even want to know what, but I stumbled.
I managed to right myself and move just in time, but the Catchi still hooked a claw in my sleeve and tore a decent gash down my forearm. I hissed in pain, glad that Catchi didn’t cover their claws with venom too, or else I’d have been screwed.
Ignoring the pain, I dived away from the demon, tucking and rolling and coming up on my feet, dagger brandishing. The demon hesitated, clearly miffed that I was still alive. My arm burned, and I was breathing hard, dripping wet and hardly able to see for the rainwater in my eyes, but I hadn’t felt this good in months—this alive. This was what I was made for.
With a roaring battle cry, I charged at the Catchi, catching it by surprise, but even as quick as I was, I wasn’t quick enough. In a flash, the demon was gone, vanishing into the air and leaving behind a stinking cloud of sulphur for me to gag on. Stupidly, I’d forgotten that Catchi demons could do that—vanish in a puff of smoke. It wasn’t quite teleportation, more like inter-dimensional translocation. Faster than the human eye could track, they ripped a hole in the dimensional fabric and jumped through it into the Black Dimension—what the Christians thought of as Hell.
There was whimper from down the alley, and I abruptly remembered the woman. I turned to find her on her feet, soaked and dirty, staring at me with terror in her eyes. I didn’t say anything. There was nothing I could say. Dad used to comfort the victims sometimes, make sure they were okay, and take them to the hospital if they needed it.
Me? I wasn’t good at comforting people. Usually, I just scared them worse. So I let the woman turn and flee from me without even a thank you for saving her life. I sighed, wiped my blade on my filthy jeans, and inspected the gash on my arm. What the hell was I going to tell mum? She was going to freak.
Chapter Five
** Islay **
“Thanks for helping me babysit, Angus. Peter’s been crabby all day, and I can’t get him to settle,” I said, bouncing my baby brother on my hip as Angus waltzed through the front door.
He grinned his normal, bright smile, and reached out to tickle Peter’s chin. Peter giggled and made grabby hands, straining for Angus and almost toppling out of my grasp. I sighed. Peter loved Angus, and Angus didn’t seem to mind when Peter drooled on him or pulled his hair.
“Here,” he said, holding out his hands.
I passed Peter off to him, and the baby immediately started smiling, which he hadn’t done all day since the minute he woke up. I’d spent all morning trying to make him smile, and all Angus had to do was walk in the door. Sometimes, I hated how loveable Angus was. Other times, well, it was complicated. He was one of my best friends, but lately, I’d been wondering and feeling things that weren’t exactly what you felt for friends. Of course, I hadn’t told him. I hadn’t even told Ash. I didn’t even know for sure what it was I felt yet.
Watching Angus blowing raspberries at my baby brother to make him laugh, his blue eyes alight with humour, I knew I felt something. I couldn’t help but smile, and Angus turned to me, bouncing Peter on his knee. Peter screamed happily as if it was a carnival ride. Over the noise, Angus said, “It’s no problem, Iz. Right now I’d much rather be here than at home.”
He was still smiling as he said it, but I sensed the tension under his words. I frowned as we moved into the living room, and I plopped onto the sofa, exhausted even though it was only one in the afternoon. I’d been on my feet all day, running around doing chores while trying to keep Peter from screaming his head off. Dad had gone to work early, as usual, so I was left alone to take care of everything. Again.
“I take it things still aren’t going well with your brother?” I asked as Angus sat down next to me and Peter began crawling up on to his shoulders.
Angus sighed, losing his smile, and shook his head. “He’s just such an ass. It’s like he doesn’t even care how upset Mum is about Dad being gone, how much she worried about him and Dad while he was gone. Like he doesn’t care that he abandoned us along with Dad. He just keeps right on . . . doing what he does.”
I felt a pang of sympathy for Angus. I’d lost
my Mum when I was young, too young to really remember her. My stepmother, Peter’s mother, had divorced Dad just after Peter was born. She didn’t want a kid, let alone two, so she gave Peter to Dad and left. Just like that. I was sort of glad. I’d never liked her much anyway, and she’d never liked me.
I couldn’t imagine losing my Dad, and I knew that, no matter how angry he might be at his Dad for leaving, Angus still had to be grieving for him. Ruairidh undoubtedly was too. If they could just overcome the gap between them, they could help each other through it.
“Have you tried, you know, talking to Ruairidh?” I asked softly, reaching out to pluck my brother off the back of the sofa before he fell off. I settled him on my lap, but he whined and crawled back to Angus, curling up on his lap instead.
Angus smiled absently down at my baby brother, and said, “No. I don’t think I can. Not yet anyway. I’m just . . . I’m angry with him, you know? For leaving us. For leaving me. He’s my brother, I loved him, I looked up to him, and he just . . . walked away from me and Mum like it was nothing.”
The pain in his voice was audible, and I put my hand on his arm before I could stop myself. He looked at me and smiled gently, the sadness fading from his blue eyes. For a long moment, he just held my eyes, and I found myself blushing, though I wasn’t sure why. Then Peter screeched, annoyed that he wasn’t the centre of Angus’s attention and started pulling on the collar of Angus’s t-shirt.
Distracted, Angus grinned at my brother and lifted him up high. “You want to go for a space ride, little man? Come on! Let’s go fly.” He leapt up and started flying Peter around the room, making whooshing noises while Peter laughed hysterically, waving his chubby little hands.
I smiled and picked up one of Peter’s toys off the floor and joined the fun. “Look out, Peter, the evil space teddy is going to eat you!”
The look on Peter’s face was comical—all wide eyes and gaping mouth as he screamed, batting his hands at me and the teddy.
Angus laughed. “Retreat, retreat!” he cried, circling Peter back around the coffee table.
We played like that for a while, until Peter started crying and even Angus couldn’t get him to hush. Finally, I fed and changed him, and laid him down in his cot in Dad’s room. He nodded off with his tiny thumb in his mouth, and I half-closed the door before creeping quietly back down the stairs.
Angus was sprawled on the sofa, munching a bag of chocolate cookies he must’ve found in the kitchen. I didn’t mind. Angus was as familiar with my house as I was, and he knew all the places I hid my good food to keep Dad from eating it on a midnight sugar binge. He’d also turned on the TV to a music channel, but he didn’t really seem to be watching.
He held out the bag to me as I collapsed on the sofa next to him, and I snagged a cookie. I crunched the biscuit, glad of the sugary goodness, and watched the flashing images of some rock music video.
“Hey,” Angus said quietly, and I glanced at him. “You’ve got a little…”
He pointed to his own mouth, and I realised he meant I had crumbs on my face. Embarrassed, I lifted a hand to wipe them away, but he reached out and smoothed his thumb across my lower lip before I could. Startled by the touch, I blinked at him, my lip tingling, and he blushed, his thumb was still on my mouth.
Butterflies rattled in my stomach, and Angus’s blue eyes slid down my face to my lips, his thumb stroking absently. He looked as if he might be about to say something, or do something, and my heart hammered with a confusing mix of fear and anticipation. He started to lean toward me, and I instinctively tilted my chin up, my eyelids fluttering as I felt his cool breath on my lips.
Peter’s sudden screaming shattered the moment, and I jerked back, breathless. Angus stared at me with wide blue eyes, looking as startled as I felt. We were both red, and I hopped up off the sofa.
“I should go and take care of Peter,” I said, my voice a little wobbly.
Angus just nodded. I raced up the stairs to my Dad’s room and lifted Peter out of his cot, cradling him against my chest and making shushing noises. He tucked his tear-damp face against my neck, sniffling, and I suspected his nappy was wet. I’d left his changing things downstairs, so I carried him down, hoping Angus would keep him quiet until I got him changed. When I reached the living room, I saw Angus was gone. I sighed, half in relief and half in disappointment.
As I walked toward the kitchen, my phone buzzed on the coffee table, and I shuffled Peter around until I could pick it up without dropping him. It was a text from Angus. I clicked it open and read it.
Hey Iz. Soz, had to leave. Got call frm mum 2 come hme asap. C U l8tr. X
I bit my lip, wondering if he was just making an excuse to get away from me after our awkward moment. But that wasn’t like Angus. He wouldn’t lie to me, even if he was uncomfortable. So I texted back carefully.
Its kl. Is evrythng ok? X
I pressed send and hung onto the phone, waiting. When he didn’t text back instantly, like usual, I tucked the phone into my bra and went into the downstairs bathroom, laying Peter down on his changing mat by the bath. I had just finished changing him, and he was playing happily with a rubber duck, when I felt my boobs vibrate. I pulled out my phone and saw Angus had finally texted back.
Yeh, evrythng is fine. Ru jst in truble. Think he mite get arrested. :D X
Staring at the text on the screen, I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. I helped Peter sit up and kept an eye on him playing with the duck as I typed a reply to Angus:
Ur joking, rite? X
My phone buzzed with his answer a second later.
Nope. X
I sighed, shaking my head. With everything Angus had told me of his brother, I wasn’t that surprised if he was already in trouble with the cops. Angus had told me Ruairidh had always been impulsive, reckless, and hard-headed. That he liked danger. A guy like that was bad news. I just felt sorry for Angus and his Mum, having to deal with Ruairidh’s wildness while they were still grieving for his father’s death.
All Angus had told me of his dad’s death was that he’d been killed when someone broke into his house, and Ruairidh had found the body. Wild as he might be, I had to feel sorry for Ruairidh too. Seeing something like that would damage anyone. No wonder he was acting out and getting in trouble. Sometimes grief makes us do crazy things.
I texted Angus back.
I’m sorry. Let me no wat happens, k? X
The phone buzzed in my hand.
Will do. Thnx. :) X
With another sigh, I slumped against the bathroom wall and watched Peter bash the rubber duck against the side of the bath, squealing with delight when it squeaked in protest. I lifted my hand to my lips, remembering the feeling of Angus’s breath on my mouth, the nearness of his blue eyes as he tilted his head toward me, and my face flushed with heat all over again as a small, shy smile tugged at my lips.
Chapter Six
** Ruairidh **
“Ruairidh Arthur Finnegan McGregor!”
When my mother shouted my full name up the stairs, I knew I was in deep trouble. What I didn’t know was why.
Reluctantly, I minced my way down the stairs and poked my head into the entry hallway, where my mother stood at the open front door. Beyond her, I could see two uniformed policemen, and my stomach instantly dropped into my feet. Fuck, what did I do now? I thought, although I was pretty sure I already knew.
I hadn’t told my mother about the demon the night before. She’d been in the shower when I’d gotten in, and I’d quickly cleaned and bandaged my injured arm, slipping a long-sleeved top on just before she came knocking on my door. When I’d opened my bedroom door, she’d seemed relieved to see me in one piece, not a scratch on me—that she could see anyway. But I was still soaking wet and shivering, and she’d instructed me firmly to take a shower and then go to bed, lest I catch a cold.
I’d nodded, just to appease her, but I had bigger worries than getting the sniffles. Like that demon escaping. I didn’t doubt it would be back—
they always were. Demons were stupidly persistent that way. And, next time, I’d kill it.
In the meantime, though, it looked as if I might be going to jail. Again. It wouldn’t be the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last, but I at least wanted to know what I was being accused of.
I slunk into the entryway, keeping my hands in my pockets and my shoulders hunched, trying to look as innocent as possible—which wasn’t easy, what with the tats running up my right arm, and the muscles cording my shoulders. Add in my over-long, messy black hair and lip-ring, and I looked like every cop’s vision of a punk, criminal teenager.
Feigning confusion, I glanced between my mother and the cops. “What’s going on?”
My mother’s lips were pressed thin, and she levelled her best glare at me. “Ruairidh, these policemen have some questions for you. Please, tell them anything you can,” she said in a hard voice. Then she turned and walked away, leaving me with the cops.
I winced. Damn, it was worse than I’d thought. I was so going to be grounded. She might even take away my sword.
Wary, I looked at the two policemen dressed in black uniforms and yellow fluorescent jackets. One of them was a grizzled middle-aged guy, with a mean look in his cold eyes. The other was younger, softer in the face, and a little foreign-looking, but there was a cunning about him I didn’t like.
“Officers,” I said in my most polite voice, “What can I do for you?”
The grizzly bear cleared his throat and said, “I’m Officer Clay. This is my partner, Janovich. We’re here because we got a report last night that a young man matching your description pulled a knife on a woman in an alleyway.”
Shit. I wanted to groan, but I mastered a look of mild surprise. “Seriously? Look, I hope the woman is alright, but you’ve got the wrong guy.”
Officer Janovich gave me a flat smile. In a faintly accented voice, he said, “Perhaps we should discuss this inside. If you wouldn’t mind?”