by Richard Amos
“Agreed.”
“Beast activity is higher at night,” Greg said, “but that don’t mean they won’t switch the game around now.”
“I’m not sure,” Dean said. “They like the shadows.”
“Still, I reckon we should get some daytime patrols going too. Me and Nay can cover those while Jake trains with Dean, maybe?”
I was ready for more pizza, taking a bite too big for my mouth, making me feel like a cow chewing away.
“Yeah,” Nay said, “we can keep an eye on the seafront, using our shops as a base.”
“Nick’ll be shocked with my presence,” Greg said.
“Same for Greta,” Nay said. “She hates it when I come in now.”
“Jake and I could drive around,” Dean said, “during the day to cover a bit farther out.”
“No more than a mile,” Karla said. “For further afield trips, I want you all together.”
“And in the evening,” Nay added, “we can swap it about so Jake and Dean are around the Rainbow Mile area while Greg and I cover the perimeter. Then all together for a late night patrol farther afield, you think? We have the runes to set off the alarms, and Greg can burn rubber like a Formula 1 driver if need be.”
Greg snorted. “Yep. Cool. I think we have a plan. You happy with that, Jake?”
I had just finished chewing my over-sized mouthful and swallowed. “Yeah, sounds good.”
Naomi cracked open a can of cola. “Thursday night,” she said. “We got to tell you about Thursdays here, Jake.”
“The new Saturday night? It’s the same in London.”
“Well, yeah, but it’s the major bingo night at Silver Chalice Bingo on Rainbow Mile.”
“Oh.”
“Really big deal and the seafront gets busy with punters from all over the city.”
Yikes! “That’s a lot of punters,” I said.
“Thursday kicks off the weekend and we lose more people between Thursday and Saturday to beast attacks. The week before you got here, an old couple, Betty and John Crisp, were taken on their way home to their flat on the Rainbow Mile, found behind some bins at the old railway station with their guts ripped out.”
“Oh, my God.”
“The beast was called a hookster, named by Greg. Have a look on the app.”
I did. It was human in shape, red-skinned, and weird fish hooks bursting out of every inch of its skin. It looked super-evil. The info said they pretty much hung around the old railway station to the north east of the city, but came out to feed once in a while. There went my appetite again. Those poor people. I had the urge to kill me some hooksters.
“They are extremely dangerous,” Nay said. “Going up to their territory is something we avoid now, especially with the backup gone. Good news is, if you can call it that, they only attack every three months.”
“What do they live on up there?”
“I don’t know. There’s some runes up there that try and divert humans away, but some slip through the net—you know, the walkers and the wanderers who still think their city is a place they can safely do those things. There’s a hiking trail around that area, forest too.”
“That’s messed up,” I said. “Like everything here.”
“Yep.”
Eating was the last thing I wanted to do now. I couldn’t stop picturing a sweet old couple, their bodies savaged, spread across the dirty ground, blood everywhere. They were just going home, a home so close to the place of their night out. And just like that, everything was taken away. Did they win big? How long were they together? Having … having the love ripped away … I couldn’t deal.
“I’m turning in,” I said. “Shattered. Night, all.”
I made a sharp exit and dashed up to my room. I threw open the balcony doors and let the cold wind kiss me, let it fill my lungs.
He wanted to leave you …
“Fuck you.”
He—
“Fuck you!” I screamed into the night. The waves roared in response. “Fuck you!”
My heart was racing, my breathing accelerated. I needed to calm down, needed to stop my hands from shaking. There, a flash, Michael dead, so much blood gushing from his stab wound.
“Fuck … you …” It was a weak cry. I held onto the balcony’s balustrade to steady myself.
I seriously needed to calm down. A heart attack was possible. I’d done enough coke in a short space of time to weaken the organ, I’d been told. Never by a doctor, just my dad and sister who’d read stuff online. One of many lectures.
I missed them, even though I hadn’t talked to Dad since I tried to … I really missed him. I missed Sunday afternoons, just me, him, and Jessica, eating one of his amazing roast dinners, watching crap on television when we couldn’t move with all the food, and then added more to our stomachs with cake or trifle, followed by movies. God, that was a lifetime ago, before I was on the cover of magazines, even before Michael.
I really had fucked up my life.
They were out there, in the world beyond, forgetting all about me and Sunday afternoons. Maybe dad already had anyway, after what’d happened.
Needalineneedalineneedaline …
Even a cigarette would do. My nerves were properly frayed. By rights, I was expecting to be dead, the white eye guy too. The two of us were supposed to have had an epic showdown, killing us both on the streets of London, our bodies found by the police called by horrified spectators. That was the ending I’d had in mind. Selfish? Yeah, but then sweet revenge followed by the reward of being in Michael’s arms in the next world would have been so worth it.
He was going to leave you …
I chewed on my nails, staying on the balcony for a good few hours.
Chapter 23
I was back in the dream with the ring of rocks that looked like a nest.
The sea was still angry, the skies still stormy and I sat here as I always did with the rock that wasn’t an egg which sometimes trembled, but nothing else.
Only this time, it started to crack. Just like an egg.
Excitement and fear joined hands. What if some sort of rock monster burst out and decided I was lunch? Could I die in dreams?
The gray rock split and a sliver of green popped out. It was no bigger than a blade of grass. With another crack, the green thing pushed its way out some more, curling as it did. I soon realized it wasn’t grass but some sort of plant bursting from the rock.
Death by killer vines, then?
But I sat there and watched the show. Plants only grew like this on TV when the process was sped up. This was an experience I didn’t want to miss, even if it was only a poxy dream.
Round and round it went in a spiral, getting to about two feet high until it stopped. The tip of the shoot swelled to a bud. There it stopped, doing nothing more. Not even the wind affected it.
Right.
“Hello?” So I was talking to flowers now. Well, it was a dream.
“Kill …”
My mouth dropped open. I really wasn’t expecting a response, dream rules or not.
“You’re the voice!” It was that same creepy female voice that’d told me about the beach houses.
“You kill … you feed.”
“Who are you?”
“Kill and feed. Kill and feed.”
“Are you … the goddess?”
“Kill and feed. Kill. Kill. Feed. Feed.”
“Is that all you’re gonna say?”
It was.
Chapter 24
Thursday night came. The unopened flower dream was now stuck on a loop. Killing and feeding. I got it. I had to feed my power by killing the beasts. Great. Now what? All that time waiting for the rock to do something, and that was it? What the hell?
Man, did I need more answers.
Dean drove Greg’s car, taking us down to the seafront, parking opposite Silver Chalice Bingo. Greg and Naomi were close by, doing their thing while we did ours here.
I hadn’t really chatted with Dean since the inciden
t in his room. Even our training sessions were pretty much silent. I guess there was nothing to say. I was still uncomfortable from the whole cock thing, no matter what he’d said afterward. And I hated that. I hated I got weird around him, that he made me clumsy. Only yesterday, I destroyed a plate because his presence in the kitchen with me had put me on edge. I mean, what was wrong with me? The poor man probably had a complex now. Not that he showed any signs of that, but still. I’m a bloody idiot sometimes.
So, the rules were clear with this patrol thing: keep in touch every thirty minutes by text. Though alarms would be triggered if shit was about to go down, as well as the metaphysical SOS, this was a strict protocol firmly insisted upon by Karla and agreed by us all. Communication was of the utmost importance.
I sent Greg and Naomi a text to say we were at the destination, and they responded quickly in acknowledgment.
Dean killed the engine. Rainbow Mile was alive with color. Lights from all the amusement arcades, the casinos, the bingo hall with its great big, sparkly silver chalice crowning it, the cafes and restaurants, three nightclubs at a point where a new street went up in a colorful stretch to form a little district of clubs and pubs, a cinema and the two theaters—mainly showing stripper acts—lit up the strip. The street lamps were on and had been hung with Christmas lights ready to be switched on sometime in December. It was a haven of entertainment, tackiness, and utterly awesome. And just like Thursday nights in London, proper busy.
“Fancy a bite to eat?” Dean asked. They were the first words he’d said to me since training this morning. Everything else had been operated in silent understanding.
We’d skipped—well, forgotten—about dinner. “I am pretty hungry.”
“Cool. How about this place?” He nodded to a restaurant next door to the bingo hall. “Belly Heaven. Sounds intriguing.”
“Yeah, fine.”
Belly Heaven was a classic British café, serving up lots of hearty grub and boasted about the Full English breakfasts they put on. Apparently, they were award-winning and belly busting. Maybe not tonight.
We sat down at a two-seater table at the front of the café by the window for a good view of the street. I had a look at the laminated menu, already deciding on a fish finger sandwich. That was light bit of grub, right? Couldn’t have anything too heavy in case of having to run or kill or both.
“You okay?” Dean asked.
“I’m fine.” I kept my eyes on the menu.
“You don’t look fine.”
“Well, I am.”
“Do you know what I think?”
“No, what do you think?”
“I think you should relax a bit.”
“I am relaxed.”
“Please. You’re tighter than a nun’s—”
“I’m fine.”
Dean took the top of my menu and pulled it gently from my hands. “You weren’t even reading it.”
“Yes, I was.”
“No, you weren’t.” Dean leaned in closer, his dark eyes suddenly alive with alluring warmth. I was forced to look at him and didn’t like it. “Look, why can’t we chill out and relax a bit. You never know, you might actually enjoy yourself.”
“We’re supposed to be patrolling. Maybe we should forget this.” I went to get up.
“Please, Jake. Look, I know relax isn’t a word indicative to this city, but come on, we can’t let things break us down. Plus, you haven’t said one word to me since you head-butted my cock.”
I could feel my cheeks blush. “You haven’t said anything to me either.”
He shrugged. “Too scared.”
“What?”
“You’ve got what’s known as a ‘resting bitch face’.”
“No, I haven’t!”
“Er, you have.”
I had actually been told that before by my sister. I always put it down to her trying to wind me up.
Along with my hot cheeks, I could feel the frown forming.
“Now you look like a serial killer.”
I laughed then, a bit too loud, an explosive relief from being too tightly wound the last few days. I thought about it for a moment. Dean was right, I needed to loosen up, even just a little. Too many things had their claws in me. I needed to breathe.
I reclaimed my menu, went back to looking beyond the fish fingers and smiled. Why the hell not?
“After food, how about we hit the arcades?” he said. “When we’ve done a check, obviously.”
I looked up. Dean was grinning. “Sounds cool to me. I’ve actually got a score to settle with a grabbing machine. Not a specific grabbing machine, just grabbing machines in general.”
“I’m with you all the way.”
A waitress arrived at their table. “Evening, gents. You ready to order?”
“Jake?” Dean asked.
“Yep, we’re ready.”
“Lovely,” the waitress said. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have the cheeseburger, please,” Dean said. “No chips.”
The waitress jotted it down into her little notepad.
“Could I have the fish finger sandwich, please?” I said.
“You want cheese in that too, luv?”
Oh, my God! I thought fish fingers, cheese and tomato ketchup was just a me thing, not something that would be part of a menu. “Yes, please.”
“White or brown bread?”
“White, please.”
“Any drinks?”
“Orange juice, please,” Dean said.
“Same for me,” I echoed.
The waitress made a note. “Thanks, your food will be with you shortly. I’ll just get those drinks for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Can’t wait for the grub,” Dean said. “Though I’m disturbed by yours.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Cheese in a fish finger sandwich?”
“So good.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“I may be jealous of your burger, though.”
“Can’t beat a good old burger.”
“Side of coleslaw and steak-cut chips. I want steak now.”
Dean nodded in agreement.
“No, I’m happy with my decision,” I clarified.
“Good, you should be.”
“Here you go, boys.” The waitress returned and popped down two glasses of orange juice. “Enjoy.” She scuttled off.
Dean raised his glass. “Cheers.”
I did the same. “Cheers.”
The glasses clinked, and we both took a hearty gulp.
“That’s some good juice,” Dean said. “Goblins know how to weave the good stuff.”
“Yeah,” I said, scanning the street beyond the window.
“Karla was right about trying to have a life,” he said. “We have to.”
“Naomi wants to go clubbing at some point,” I said. “Not sure how that’s gonna work.”
“Urgh, I hate nightclubs. Don’t worry, I’ll be lookout outside in the car or something.”
“Not a dancer?”
“Nope, never was.”
“But you move so well in a fight.”
“Can’t break it down, though.”
I chuckled. “That surprises me.”
“Most fae can dance,” Dean said. “All part of the package. Guess the half-fae bit’s hindered me. My mum doesn’t dance either. Dad can. You’d think I’d be half-good, by that logic.”
“You would.” I had another sip of my drink. His eyes really were the color of midnight. “What’s the fae realm like?”
“Fairie is … I don’t go much. Didn’t go much. My dad lives there, my mum back in Singapore. Brighton is actually on a fae gateway. You have to go right to the end of the main pier and jump off. Then you get carried away to the magical land of the fae. I’d rather not.”
“Why not?”
“Fairie is stunning. I’m talking beyond your wildest dreams level of beauty. But it’s full of backstabbing and politely-driven dar
k motives that just piss me off. My dad is quite high up in the social ranks and is a complete twat to go with it.”
The waitress came with our food.
Dean picked up his burger and took a bite, not going into any further detail about his father.
“So, are there other worlds out there apart from the beast and the fae ones?” I asked.
When he stopped chewing he said, “There are, but whatever they are they’re closed off. And I don’t think I wanna know too much about them. Not after this.”
“With you on that.”
“Supernaturals, as a general rule, exist in this world, apart from the fae having their own but able to cross over—this realm and that realm are closely linked. There’s the realm of the dead, but that’s on a different level—operationally. I don’t know if there are angels and demons or any of that stuff, but there must be something along those lines, what with the goddess and all that—probably another plane of existence that doesn’t follow the rules of a realm.”
I didn’t tell him about my dreams, but wondered if that’s where I’d been visiting. That place had to be connected to the goddess somehow.
“Earth has magic and creates magical creatures, things beyond human,” he continued. “I just hope nothing else, whatever’s out there, decides it’ll be fun to break on through like the beasts did.”
“Me too.” I added ketchup to my sandwich and took the first bite. Yep, it was bliss in my mouth. How I’d missed this sweet, sweet delicacy!
“The supernatural council has had people trying to answer the question of what else is out there for decades and come up with nothing.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way,” I said.
“Yeah, if this is gonna be the shit it all leads to.”
After dinner, we walked some more. All seemed well on the seafront. That didn’t make me feel better, but at least for now there was no sign of violence.
“What about here?” Dean asked. We were standing outside an amusement arcade called The Fun Palace.
There they were, all lined up in a neat row, one after the other in battle formation, ready to take on anyone who dared to rise to the challenge. I was ready for them, those poxy grabbing machines with their treasure so closely guarded by that friggin’ claw.
“Which one?” Dean asked.