Rise of the Alphas

by Alexis Davie

And she was. Brin couldn’t stop laughing. She was almost falling off her chair with it. She leaned on the bar for support.

  “It’s just… I think that was my plan,” she said, “to stop the wedding. God, what would I have done if I hadn’t bumped into you!”

  13

  Garrick

  What would I have done if I hadn’t bumped into you!

  Garrick’s heart leapt at this. He was so full of appreciation for this witch, for how full to the absolute brim she was of life. It was like it had begun spilling over onto him, into him, from the moment they had met.

  “Oh,” he said. “I’m sure you would have found someone else to insult.”

  She smiled at him. “Yeah, but it might not have been so easy. And we probably wouldn’t have just happened to have the exact same battle to fight right now.”

  He drank the dregs of his pint while she talked, and he said, “I mean, it’s not the exact same, is it? No one’s buying a night in a hotel room with me.”

  She was still smiling at him, goofily. Harry had put another gin and tonic in front of her. “You want me to find you paying customers? You weren’t so bad—”

  “Woah!” Garrick stopped her before she loudly announced their activities that morning to the whole bar, including the sharp-eared vampire pulling pints who would certainly never let him hear the end of it. Then he picked up her new drink and took a gulp.

  “My god, Harry, is there any tonic in this?” Harry shrugged, showed his strong yellow teeth.

  “She’s like, a hundred pounds!”

  Brin took the drink from him and put the straw in her mouth. “Hundred and twenty-two,” she said when she was done, “last time I checked. Why do men always underestimate women’s weight like that? You want to be more threatening to us?”

  He knew she meant this generally and as a comment on society, which, admittedly, had been really messed up regarding gender roles in the last couple of thousand years. And especially the last few hundred. It was monotheistic religion that had really put the nail in the coffin, Garrick thought, but that wasn’t the point. He knew she meant it generally, though it was quite the gut-punch to hear he might even theoretically, simply due to his gender, be thought of as threatening to someone he so wanted to protect… which he guessed was also problematic. Five-thousand years of differing social norms were so hard to cram into one brain!

  “No,” he said. “You’ve seen me as a dragon. I just didn’t estimate your weight, and that’s the threat?”

  “In like, a sociological sense, maybe.” She grinned at him, or flashed a grin, at least, showing she was mostly messing. Then she proffered the drink. “You can share it, though. We need to be fresh for our planning session tomorrow.”

  Their fingers brushed as she handed over the glass. The tingles ensued, climbing his arm until they filled up his chest entirely. And again, breathing was difficult. It often was when they touched. How had it been so little time since they had met? So much had changed in him in just a couple of days. And she had been sullen, their first meeting at the bar. Funny, quick, lively, lovely, but down. Mean. Maybe it was the gin, but she was sparkling with light now. He wanted to say something stupid. She would punch him in the mouth. Instead, he drank, like always. Except not; this was only his second drink of the evening, and he was sharing it. He’d walked the two Bloodies off with his trek across the city, and no doubt Xander had stiffed him on the vodka, anyway. He was clearly the type.

  “Shall we get going after this?” Garrick asked.

  Brinley narrowed her eyes at him, taking the glass from his hand. “What do you mean, ‘we’?”

  “I mean, shall you and I stand up and leave this drinking establishment?”

  “And go to our separate homes?”

  He couldn’t read her now. She looked cheeky, or annoyed? Who knew. He envied her power to feel out emotions. Intentions, even. “Alright, home’s a bit rich for you right now. You could come to mine to shower. Did you leave anything there?”

  Her face froze when he said that.

  “Yeah,” she said, “one thing…” She must have left the book, which was a good idea. They shouldn’t be in the same place, Brinley and the book, because whoever was after them now was after both. He wanted to tell her this but couldn’t do it here, obviously.

  “So, you’ll come and shower? And then I can walk you back to… where you’re staying.” Suddenly, Garrick was hyper-aware that anyone could be in this pub. They’d been having a lovely time, loudly discussing things that could get them in a lot of trouble. That could get everyone in trouble. They shouldn’t get so carried away. It was just so lovely to see her, even though he’d seen her that morning.

  Brinley finished up the drink and set it on the bar. “Thanks, Harry!” she called.

  “See you soon,” Harry said, with a wave.

  He has a soft spot for Brinley, Garrick thought, above and beyond the nausea charm. Then again, who wouldn’t?

  “So?” he asked as they walked towards the door.

  “Sure,” she said and stopped to look hard at him. “To shower.”

  “That’s what I said!” He held his two hands up, as if in submission to her. “This is a working relationship now, right? We’ve got things to get done.”

  Well, that was a stupid thing to say. Had he just made himself into her creepy old boss? Garrick didn’t remember how to do this, and certainly not with a young witch who had no idea of her beauty or power yet. Maybe he shouldn’t be doing it… In fact, he was trying not to, but her pull was magnetic.

  He’d had loves, of course, in his life. A human, which was always a big mistake. They lived for, pretty much, moments. But it meant they savored it. He could see her now, when she had been young, and then when she hadn’t anymore. And he’d had affairs, relationships, dalliances. But this felt like a love. This was a hard, fast fall; wanting to smell her, to hold her, to talk to her constantly about every little—

  The swing-door of The Gimlet almost hit Garrick in the face. He caught it with one hand. “Fuck!”

  Brin was laughing at him. “Sorry, sorry, you just looked so off in a dream. I was waking you up.”

  And she had. She really had. Brinley had woken him up, and now he felt like he had to make up for the time he had been sleeping. He wanted to fix the world, he wanted to dance, make love, breathe deep even when the air smelled of east London in the summer. He wanted her with him, too, through whatever was going to happen. But he knew he had to tread carefully. She was young, and scared, and far, far smarter than he was.

  Brinley walked ahead of him, her footsteps ringing off the paving slabs, her hair bouncing, leading him back to his own home.

  14

  Brinley

  Brinley was just tipsy enough to be… well, she shouldn’t be happy. She’d just found out her father was, like, a crappy supervillain. No, that was putting it too lightly. She had just found out her father valued money more than he did her, more than he did their family, the world—which he had set, now, to burn. Maybe he didn’t know what Xander wanted the book for. But this seemed unlikely. Her father knew everything. Or, rather, he knew everything he needed to, usually. Also, he wasn’t an idiot.

  But Brinley was almost happy. She walked bouncily in front of Garrick through the streets, which were just getting dark. The happiness wasn’t specific. She knew the situation was bad, but it was there. It was bubbling away within her, just a low simmer. It was more than she’d felt for some time.

  She could feel Garrick’s eyes on her back as she walked, though they didn’t speak. Some of her happiness came from being out of her father’s house, from the book responding to her, from her surprising bursts of power the last few days. Some came from the weather, the new part of the city, the gin. And yes, just a little came from Garrick’s eyes on her back.

  She waited for him when she got to his door, and he brushed past her to open up. The flat was dark, and he held out an arm to keep her back as he turned on the lights.

  �
��What are you—”

  “Indulge me, Brinley? I’m an old and suspicious creature. Just let me check there’s no one in here.”

  “Like ghosts? Or like bad men who want to grab me?”

  He gave her a look. “The latter. What’s wrong with ghosts?”

  Brin shrugged, though he was scanning the big living room-kitchen now. “I’ve never met a ghost. Couldn’t say.”

  “They’re annoying, one track minds, gotta find that unfinished business. But not scary.” Brin couldn’t read his tone.

  “Are you messing with me?” she asked. “There are real ghosts?” Garrick laughed as he opened the hall cupboard. A mop fell out, and they both jumped out their skins.

  “Fuck!” Garrick stepped back, then he picked up the mop. “Of course there are. God, you’re so young. And if you tell anyone I was scared by a mop, I’ll kill you.”

  “No, you won’t,” Brin said, following him to the hall cupboard, the bathroom, and then the bedroom. He opened the doors to his closet. She didn’t mean to say her next words; they just leapt out of her mouth. “It still smells like us in here, from this morning.”

  Garrick turned and smiled down at her, softly. It was the softest, the sweetest she had seen him look so far. He put a hand up and stroked her hair away from her face. He kept his thumb rubbing her cheek, fingers on her neck. He smelled good. A little sweaty, a little like cigarettes. Sweet, warm skin under that. Brin turned her face a little to kiss the heel of his hand, and Garrick closed his eyes.

  “I want to kiss you,” he said, quiet and low, “but you said just shower. And I can see, obviously, why this is not a good idea right now.”

  Brin nodded against his cupping hand. She was almost overwhelmed by her desire to be touched by him, for him to run his lovely pale hands across her breasts, for them to push open her legs and find her between her thighs.

  She couldn’t think about it and look at him. She turned to face the wall, and the hand that had been lightly on her face now slipped down her back, found her hip.

  “We have things to get done,” she said, “and sex wouldn’t help. It’s just… a chemical thing.”

  Garrick laughed. “Isn’t everything, Brin?”

  Brin nodded. “Okay, you’ve got me there, but you know what I mean. This is hardly the time to indulge our base lust.”

  “And,” Garrick said, “despite appearances to the contrary, I’m a considerate man. I know how much older than you I am, and I don’t want to—”

  “I’m an adult!” As soon as this was out of her mouth, Brinley realized that it was a sentence that did not make her sound very grownup. She felt Garrick smile behind her, felt his tickle of amusement.

  “Yeah, you better be, we already had a taster session…”

  “Gross, Garrick!”

  “Sorry. I just meant that I know that you’re an adult. In fact, you’re brilliant. But you have a lot to learn, and I can’t be the one to teach you.”

  She still couldn’t look at him. She stayed turned away. She could hear his soft breathing, almost hear his heartbeat, they felt so in tune to one another.

  “I can teach myself,” she said. “I usually have where it counts. But you’re right, this is a distraction. We need to focus. We need to stop a wedding! You know, get this dark romcom really going. And save the world, I guess.”

  Garrick didn’t laugh. Instead, he said, “Just know, I really…” The pause here left time for Brin to hear the blood in her own head. Surely, he couldn’t be about to… But no, thank goodness. “Just know,” Garrick started again, and he pulled her close to him, arm around her waist, “that I really, really want to.”

  She could feel him against her, rock hard and needy for her. She couldn’t help it; she let out a small, animal moan and pressed back against him for a moment. And then he let her go, and she was halfway across the room, pink cheeked and reeling.

  “Shower!” she said. “I’ll… yeah… towels in the bathroom.”

  This time, in front of the mirror, she touched herself properly. She had turned on the shower to hide the noise, though it was a courtesy. He must know this was what she was doing. In fact, it made it better knowing, and knowing he was either doing the same now or would be later.

  She got in the shower and let the water run down her back as she continued to play. She imagined her small hands were his large ones while she pushed ripples of pleasure through herself. Soon, she had to lean against the shower’s glass wall, and then she was trying to stay quiet, biting down on her free fist, swallowing her moans. Her legs gave out halfway, and she slipped down to sit under the stream of hot water.

  15

  Garrick

  He was trying to do the right thing. It didn’t feel good, but in Garrick’s experience, doing the right thing rarely did.

  Standing in his room, he pushed back his hair and took a breath. He let his excitement, his want for Brinley, subside. It was still pulsing through him, however, much deeper than just a physical need. She’d got to him. She was right for him. He knew that on a cellular level now. He’d loved a human, and a human had loved him. That had been beautiful, although it had broken him. So what did it matter, the age difference? He just needed her to be as sure as he was. He didn’t want to hurt her, and he didn’t want to get hurt.

  The shower was running. Garrick wandered into the hallway, went to the kitchen to look for food. There was nothing in the fridge. Of course there wasn’t, he never bloody ate anything, did he? But apparently, Brinley had inspired him to, what, take care of himself? Not quite. Reengage, maybe. But she wasn’t ready to admit that this was more than friction, more than lust and skin on skin. He hoped she would be. He hoped it was for her, too.

  Then she was in front of him, wrapped in a towel, pink cheeked, shoulders beaded with water.

  “You’re soaking. Did you get water everywhere?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I probably did, grandpa. I’ll wipe it up.”

  “Well, what do you want me to say?” Garrick closed the fridge. “You’re looking fucking radiant, all clean and damp, and I want to—” Brin held up a finger to stop him. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. We’re not doing that. So, clean up your drips, and let’s order food!”

  Walking away, Brinley called, “I said just a shower!”

  “Are you hungry?”

  She turned her head and gave a small smile. “Yeah.”

  “Then we’d better eat, or you’ll get a bowl of cabbage boiled in sock water over at Mollie’s. Is pizza okay?” Brinley was in the bathroom again now, getting dressed, probably.

  “Pizza is always okay,” she said down the hall.

  Maybe if it got late enough, she would stay. Not in his bed with him, but out here. Or he could stay out here, and she could take the bed. The idea of Brin in his bed, in any context, got him, and he felt a wave of desire move up him from his groin. Brin sleepy in the morning, Brin snoring, even. He was done for.

  He ordered the pizza.

  “Ah!” Brin opened her mouth to cool the molten cheese. “That’s hot!” she managed, mouth full.

  “That’s disgusting. And of course it’s hot, it’s pizza.” Garrick was holding a slice by the crust, waiting to pick it up. They were sat at the coffee table, butts on the cold concrete floor. He really needed more furniture. This place was massive. He’d converted it years ago, before that was a trendy and expensive thing to do. Not that money mattered to him at this point, being immortal.

  “I’m hungry!” Brin said after finally swallowing the scorching mouthful. “My hunger

  overcame my hot-foods logic.” She put the slice down. “So, while we’re waiting five minutes for this ridiculously, possibly illegally hot pizza to cool down a bit, let me tell you about the book!”

  Garrick looked at her with what felt like a quizzical expression. “I mean, I know it’s your family spell book, and it’s very powerful. I thought we weren’t talking shop anymore tonight?”

  “Yeah, yeah, right,” Brinley said, t
he excitement on her face obvious and adorable. “But get this, the book loves me. It gets all warm and excited when I’m around it… Oh, Garrick, get your mind out of the gutter, you’re too ancient to be childish.”

  He hadn’t been able to help his chuckle. “Sorry, sorry, it just sounds very sensual, is all.”

  “It’s an ancient magical connection! The book has been in my mother’s family for generations, Garrick, and I have her blood. My father doesn’t. In fact, maybe that’s why he rarely let me learn from it. He didn’t want me to know it’s mine.”

  Garrick nodded slowly. This made a lot of sense. Her father seemed like a terrible man, and it would explain her coming into her powers now.

  “And,” Brin continued, “I’d never looked at half the spells in there. There’s everything. From soothing a child to bringing on a tornado! I suppose my family has had mixed priorities over the years—”

  Garrick was an idiot. Why hadn’t he asked her about her mother? Had she mentioned her before? He wracked his brain trying to remember. He’d just assumed the book came from her father’s side. Because he was an ass.

  “Your mom’s family name, Brin? What is it?”

  “Valentine,” Brinley said. “It’s nicer than—”

  “You’re a Valentine?” Garrick asked, trying to tamp down his excitement. “I didn’t think— I thought the line had ended?”

  Brinley shrugged. “Guess I’m not really, am I? I’m a girl, so the line ends.”

  Garrick shook his head. “No way, no way, do you know how powerful your family is? They have ruled covens for generations, and that’s witch generations, so like, a long time. Brin, how much did your father teach you?”

  “How do you mean?” she asked, taking the slice of pizza to have another go.

  “How advanced is your witchcraft?”

  She shrugged. “I dunno, normal. I had tutors. Changed often, guess my dad was picky or whatever. Actually, I don’t really know any other witches, so I have nothing to compare it to. Oh, yesterday, though, after I’d been looking at the book, I sort of flew? Floated? While I was putting it away. It wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t know I could do that.”