Winter Rising: an Urban Fantasy Novel (Coldharbour Chronicles Book 1)

by Richard Amos

  “Sounds good.”

  They went off together to the other side of the shop, giggling away without a care in the world even though there was a bucket load of cares hanging over the city.

  I returned my attention back to the shirt. This needed something cool to go with it. Lo and behold, there were some bottle-green jeans that made the shirt pop, all the colors going so good together—and they even had some silver piping of their own. It was a match made in fashion heaven.

  “Please tell me you’re buying that,” the sales girl called from the nearby counter. “I’ve been dying for someone to take an interest.”

  “So buying it,” I said. My eyes flickered to the goblin whose frown was now the happy way round, obviously gleeful at one of her magical weaves becoming a sale. As long as there was no added Cinderella magic in there which expired at midnight or something, leaving me in my boxers with no place to hide, I was pleased.

  I’d have to check that with Nay, just to be sure.

  “Then you’ve got to have the boots to match.”

  Purchases bagged up, we strode across the square to a little tea shop, all quaint and tasteful and banging on about how great their scones were. Too bad, I hated scones.

  The boots had been another triumph in the forming of my outfit. Black with silver soles and bottle green laces. It was as if the universe had guided me to that very moment, the stars aligning, the fashion gods blessing me. Or just plain old luck, really.

  We sat at a table and ordered some tea. I wasn’t particularly hungry, but Nay and Crystal got themselves some jam tarts.

  “I’m looking forward to later,” Crystal said. “Feels like years since I’ve been out properly.”

  “Thought you went out last night?”

  She smirked. “That was a tame one.”

  “You had six vodkas!”

  “He was buying.”

  “He?” I asked.

  “Oh, just some guy I met.”

  I couldn’t help shooting Nay a look. “What’s his name?”

  “Steve. Six-foot tall, snappy dresser. God, he was gorgeous.”

  “So you and Greg are—”

  “Not exclusive,” she cut me off.

  Nay rolled her eyes. “You two, I swear.”

  “If he doesn’t want to be locked in, as he calls it, then we won’t be. I’m not waiting around forever. I have to think about myself.”

  “You do,” Nay said. “But Greg does think the world of you.”

  “Does he? Or am I just a great shag? I can’t be like you and Sam, Nay.”

  “No one said you had to, sweetie.”

  Who the hell was Sam?

  “Not that I’m knocking you,” she said. “I think it’s lovely. Just not for me.”

  “Stop thinking about me and Sam. I don’t think Greg even wants that kind of thing. Anyway, fuck-buddies are a whole different game, hon. You and Greg are—”

  “Complicated.”

  Man, Crystal looked so sad.

  “No, hon. You’re both confused, scared to take the next step. I know he says you’re both having fun, but he loves you. I’ll continue to be on his case, don’t worry. One day, he’ll grow up. But trust me, there’s only you as far as he’s concerned. He just has a funny way of showing it.”

  Crystal sniffed. “I had to drink myself out of thinking about him last night,” she said.

  “Listen, Crys. Greg doesn’t play the field. He hasn’t been on any dates. He’s just a dick sometimes. A really nice one, though. You know that.”

  “I wanted to get back at him for what he said.”

  “What did he say?”

  She started into her cup of tea for a few moments, then looked up, blue eyes watering. “That I shouldn’t expect too much from him—that I’d be disappointed if I did.”

  “Oh, shit,” Nay said. “I’m sorry.”

  Tears rolled down Crystal’s cheeks. “Is that what you’re supposed to be told by the man you love? Tell me honestly, both of you … is there someone else?”

  If only I could make a sharp exit.

  “No,” I said. “He’s not like that.”

  She cocked her head at me. I was waiting for the whole ‘what did I know?’ thing, seeing as I hadn’t been on the scene long. It didn’t come.

  “You must know that, hon,” Nay said. “Come on. You do. You know you do.”

  “I wish I did.”

  Naomi reached across the table, taking Crystal by the hands. “Trust me. I’m your friend.”

  “I just don’t trust him.”

  Blimey. She really was feeling this hard. Greg wasn’t a bad guy. He really wasn’t.

  “Well, whatever he says, I know he really cares about you.”

  “What about love?”

  “He does love you, hon.”

  Crystal pulled her hands back. “That word probably isn’t even in his vocabulary,” she snapped. “Oh, he cares for me? Who gives a fuck? I want love. Love! Love! Love!” People were starting to stare as her voice became shrill. “I’m not just some shag toy he can bang whenever he’s feeling lonely. I’m more than that, worth so much more than that.” She scraped her chair back, getting to her feet. “Greg Stone can go be with his right hand from now on. Screw him! He isn’t screwing me anymore.” She swung her bag onto her shoulder, almost whacking the woman sitting behind her on the head, and stormed out of the tea shop.

  It took a good few minutes for the other occupants to get back to their scones.

  “Well,” Nay said. “There you go.”

  “Greg doesn’t play around, right? He doesn’t have time.”

  “‘Course not, babe.” She sipped her tea. “Crystal … Crystal is a bit highly strung sometimes. She loves too much. I get why Greg said what he did. Look at our situation. What can he offer her? Right now, there’s no future.”

  “I guess no amount of manipulation can stop the heart from loving?” I said.

  “The love stuff is complicated. Greg doesn’t like there to be too much used on her. In fact, it was Wendy who gave her a dose last time, to calm her down. She proposed to Greg.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, got a ring and everything. Wendy had to step in then.”

  “Bloody hell.”

  “Such a shame. I remember that day when the city was sealed away. We were all so down, terrified about the future. But there she was, the new girl in the café, all shiny and pleasant. Greg fell head over heels, so did I a bit. She’s just such a kind-hearted person.” Nay sat back. “I wish she’d gone and lived her dreams away from here. She’d been in Coldharbour for six months, working in an office up in the north of the city—one of those dead-end jobs that makes you a zombie after a few years. She walked out one day, having had enough of her dick head boss, and found herself torn. She was gonna head to London and follow her dream of being a West End star. But she was broke, behind in her rent. So she got the job at the café, just as the city was sealed away. That’s when we met her.” She blew out a breath. “If only it’d been a week before. I could’ve got her out. But then you could say that about so many people stuck here.”

  “At least she has you,” I said. “That counts for something. And Greg, even if it is a head-spinner.”

  “I don’t like that she met some guy. He could be a beast. What if he was? Dean’s gonna have to do something, whether Greg likes it or not. I’m not having her killed because she’s trying to make Greg jealous.”

  “Does she never ask about why we all spend so much time together, especially with me being the new bloke in the city?”

  “No,” she replied. “All she’s said is you seem nice.”

  “No wonder people constantly bang on about affairs of the heart,” I said. “Love is more powerful than anything else on the planet.”

  She smiled. “Pain in the arse is what it is.”

  “I know it drove me mad sometimes,” I said. “In a good way. I loved Michael so hard, but sometimes it could be too hard. I’m the first to admit I was ov
er-jealous about everything. If anyone else would flirt with him, as it was when we went out at night, it’d drive me crazy. When we’d get home, I’d start a fight. I’d tell myself I was being stupid, but then another voice would be screaming that he was mine, and no one else had the right to look at him. I mean, what the hell? Got worse with the booze and the drugs.”

  “It would,” she said. “Deadly combo.”

  “Made me so crazy. Everyone flirts, everyone looks at eye candy if it walks by. Human nature, right? And I knew that! I was even an advocate for it. But when it came to loving a man of my own, I couldn’t handle it. This utopian idea of him only having eyes for me was what I wanted, where the rest of the world could go look at itself, keep its eyes and hands off my man. Obviously, the hands bit always applies unless you’re into that, but how can you deny human nature?” Jesus, I was waffling, lecturing myself more than actually talking to Nay. “We all enjoy having a look. I liked having a look, but then out comes the bloody green-eyed monster to poke at me to the point of pulling my hair out. I know Michael resented me for it, and I probably—” I couldn’t say it.

  “What, babe?”

  Pushed …

  “Nothing. I wish I could make it up to him.”

  “I’m sure he knows.” She smiled warmly. “We all do crazy things.”

  I sat up a little straighter, mentally shaking myself off. “So, who’s Sam?”

  “My lover, free of complications. I don’t love her, she doesn’t love me, but we both love having sex with each other. You’ll meet her later. Works at The Mermaid.”

  I didn’t quite believe her on the non-love bit, but I still said, “Good for you. Looking forward to meeting her.”

  She clapped her hands together, her whole face lighting up and altering the mood. “I’m so damned excited for tonight.”

  Chapter 31

  A man from the past stared back at me in the mirror. I hadn’t looked this good for so long. The whole ensemble just worked, fitting me in all the right places. I’d even got my hair just right. Shame there’d probably be a beast attack later to mess it all up. But damn. I was smiling, and I even checked out my own arse.

  When I was finally ready to tear myself away from myself, I scooped up my new jacket—a last minute find after the tea shop—and headed downstairs.

  Nay squeaked as I walked into the dining room. “No wonder you were a model, babe! You look amazing!”

  Oh, this was all so good for my ego. I had a little bask in it.

  Greg wolf-whistled.

  “Looking good yourselves.”

  Greg was in a red wine shirt and black skinny jeans, looking sharp. Naomi was in her new sparkly top and matching jeans, no heels on her feet, but some pretty nice boots for the practicality of our lives.

  Dean, however, was all in black, not club-ready at all—as expected. He looked up from whatever he was doing on his phone, nodded, and went back to his device.

  I didn’t believe in star signs, but I was starting to think that maybe he was some sort of personification of Gemini. Maybe it was a fae thing, being aloof one minute then handing over scarves and blue teddy bears the next. He could get on with it, I decided. Anyway, he’d made his feelings clear on this whole dancing matter, so that didn’t help.

  “Ready?” I said. It was 22:45 according to my phone’s clock.

  “So ready,” Nay said. “Let’s hit the road.”

  Dean got up, putting his phone away. Without a word, he left the room.

  “He’s driving tonight,” Greg said. “Insisted on it.

  “Any chance we can call a cab?” I asked. “Drivers will be friendlier.”

  Greg snorted. “Ah, give the man a break. He’ll come around.”

  “I don’t think he’ll ever get down and boogie,” I said.

  “Stranger things have happened,” Nay added.

  ****

  Dean put the radio on for us. Well, a playlist made up by Nay of pop songs, with a few Dylan Rivers tracks thrown in to remind us who was the king of music. Nay and Greg were doing a rather interesting duet on a Britney Spears number—Nay in the back with me, Greg in the front—and I was losing it, my stomach actually hurting from all the laughter. It was Greg and the high notes, a sound that must be extraterrestrial.

  I caught Dean’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. His eyes moved back to the road, but he turned his head slightly so I could see his mouth. He mouthed the last line of the song. I was completely stunned. Looking back to the mirror, he offered me a wink.

  What the hell?

  I burst into laughter once again.

  Belly sore, I shrugged off my jacket and climbed out of the car. Dean had found a spot right at a point on Rainbow Mile where he could watch Baby Rainbow fully from his position. He got out too.

  Man, was it cold, but I couldn’t be jacketed up in a club, hiding the new clobber.

  “You sure you’re not coming in, mate?” Greg asked.

  “I’m good,” Dean replied, leaning against the car.

  “Well, you know where we are,” Nay said, linking arms with me and Greg. “Come on, boys. Let’s do this.”

  It was busy, as any Friday night was where there was action. Laughter and shouting and rowdiness and people with glow sticks around their necks, staggering and dancing, moving from venue to venue, drink fueling every step. The atmosphere was all about the party and nothing else. This would be it down here on Rainbow for the next two nights—pure fun time. Inevitably, that would bring death with it, as was the curse of this city. It could be any one of them. Lucy’s body flashed in my mind.

  A taxi honked at us as we crossed the road, pushing the image of Lucy away.

  “Prick!” Nay called.

  I laughed. I’d known people like her back in the day. Ah, if only we could get messy, then the laughter really wouldn’t die down. I could tell that with the leash off, Nay would be a riot, a pure party girl who didn’t give a fuck. I loved it.

  We skipped the line and went straight for the entrance where a man and woman stood—the bouncers.

  “Well, well, well.” The woman’s voice was tinged with a northern accent. Clad in black, she wore her red hair tied back. A security ID hung from her arm. Her green eyes sparkled when she looked at Nay.

  “Hi,” Nay said, cocking a hip. “Missed me?”

  “I always miss you, gorgeous. How you been?”

  Nay licked her lips. “Horny.”

  Er, okay. Tell it like it is. I loved Nay even more. I had a guess this was Sam.

  The other man was a big, hulking skinhead, the kind of guy you’d expect to work the door. He grunted and nodded at me.

  “And this is the famous Jake,” Sam said.

  I glanced behind me at the waiting clubbers.

  Sam chuckled. “Don’t worry, they won’t care.”

  “They can’t actually hear what we’re saying,” Greg said.

  “Jake,” Nay said, “this is Sam.”

  I shook the woman’s hand.

  “Nice to finally meet ya,” she said. “Thanks for putting some of the fuckers down.”

  “So you know all about—”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said. “We’re trolls, Bill and me.” She gestured to the big man. “Lend a hand when we can, look after this street.”

  “Good to know,” I said.

  She shrugged. “Don’t stop shit, though.”

  Done with me, she returned her attention to Nay. “See you later, gorgeous?”

  Nay moved in closer, pressing her breasts up against her lover’s. “Maybe.”

  The two women kissed, soft yet passionate, their desire on full display. The crowd behind me cheered.

  Sam whistled. “I want you right now. In the street.”

  “People have been known to piss on these cobbles,” Nay said.

  Sam laughed, wrapping her arms around Nay’s waist. “Later?”

  Nay kissed her cheek and slid away, turning to blow a kiss before entering the club.

  Sam licked her li
ps. “If ever there was one woman to bring me to my knees, it’s her.” She stared after Nay a few moments more, then slapped me on the back. “Right, in you go, lads.”

  “Cheers, Sam,” Greg said.

  “Good to see ya, Gregsta.”

  “Likewise.”

  “How come they get to go in?” a man shouted.

  “Shut it or you you’re standing there with frozen bollocks all night!” Sam roared back as we went through the entrance.

  “Trolls?” I asked.

  “Not many of them left in the world now,” Greg said. “Come from Fairie and are handy to have around, but territorial, so don’t move very far from their zone. Know how to bust heads, which is always good.”

  “Absolutely,” I said.

  We passed a cloakroom, making our way down a narrow hall, weaving through the people. The hallway thrummed with bass, a curtain of seashells hung up ahead.

  Nay was waiting there. She pulled back the curtain and gestured for me to go through first.

  Beyond the veil of shells was an underwater dance-fest. The walls rippled with projected water, the ceiling like looking up to the surface from the depths of the ocean. In cages atop podiums, were scantily clad mermaids and mermen, wind machines beneath them making strands of green—seaweed—dance along with them, along with their hair, all being very Marilyn Monroe on the air vents.

  There was a stage and a DJ booth, little alcoves with tables for the posers with one guy wearing shades like an absolute knob-head, and lots and lots of lasers pulsing along with the pounding music. The dance floor was packed.

  Like most of the stuff along Rainbow Mile, it was tacky but real fun. I loved that shit. The bar was a seashell cove, serving up colorful cocktails.

  Nay made a beeline for it, and I followed with Greg in tow. I could tell she was gagging for a cocktail, so she settled for one of the virgin ones, with a raised eyebrow from the barman. We all had the same, a non-alcoholic version of Sex on the Beach, which was way too sweet—too many sips more would lead to a major sugar rush.

  But that wasn’t what we were here for.

  We found an empty table, dumped the drinks there, never to be sipped again, and got down to business. I was a little off as I hit the dance floor, not too sure of myself, rusty. Then there is that moment when everything shifts, when the perfect song comes on and all the walls break down. The beat, the whole package, every component making my body move, my body no longer mine. This was freedom, ascension to another state. Nay whooped, and I lost myself in the music.