“Oi. I’m serious!” he exclaims, storming after me now as I pick up my pace, ready to get the hell out of this stupid graveyard.
“Yet another novel concept. Two in a row. Well done.”
“Well, maybe you should just stop being a bitch and bloody listen to me. How’s that for a novel bloody concept?” Vex yells this time, clearly more frustrated than he’s been letting on.
“Excuse me? Why the hell should I listen to you?” I spin on my foot, folding my arms and putting up my highest level of external defence. It’s almost as if he cares, and I can’t be having that. Over my freaking dead body.
“Maybe because if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even be here! I did this for you because I don’t want to be bloody carbonised by some god when you get us all killed with your careless, ‘I don’t give a flying fuck’ attitude.” He’s out of breath as he steps forward, and I scowl, opening my mouth before he picks up his rant right where he left off. “Seriously, Love, who do you think you’re bloody kidding? You’re terrified of failing and taking it out on everyone else. You just hate me because I don’t roll over and take your shit like every other bloody person on this planet. You hate me because I actually give a shit about you. Anything real, anything that you can’t chop down to making you the victim, to being unfair, terrifies you. Anything which you might actually have a chance to affect, to take responsibility for, to not screw up in the most monumental way possible, scares the living daylights out of you. Because if you fuck it up with the Psirens… then nobody is to blame but you, and maybe you are just as irredeemable as you’ve always believed.” He takes a step forward and implores me with his gaze, fury and care melded into something warped and unrecognisable behind the glassy whites of his eyes. “This is in your hands. So, step up to the bloody plate, or get the fuck out of the batting cage. None of us have time for your self-pity any longer. You got a shit stick; we get it. That’s life. Get the fuck over it. You’re stronger than this.” He’s pure fury all of a sudden, storming past me and purposefully knocking my shoulder so I’m spun halfway round on the spot. I follow his figure with my gaze as he storms out of the gate, slamming it behind him and leaving me standing in the graveyard as the smashing together of wrought iron rings out into the night.
As I stand still, shocked, perhaps not even by his tone but at the undeniable truth of his words, I look up to the sky as the first flake of snow begins to descend. I hold out a hand, and a single flake falls into my palm. I don’t feel it. I’m too numb, the truth of a practical stranger’s condemnation of me still echoing loud in my mind as I stiffen to stone on the spot, every repetition of the words making the truth of it louder and harder to deny.
Chapter Seven
Wrecked
I saunter back in the snow, which falls slow and melancholic through the festive air of the small English city. I don’t feel its chill as it begins to lay upon the roofs of cottages and cobblestones that pave the ground, merely walking as a shadow through the white blur as I head back to the Wig and Mitre.
It’s not far, and as I push in on the rustic looking wooden door and feel the warmth of the place envelop me along with the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke, my heart falters in its sombre beat.
Vex is sitting at the bar, hunched over the rich mahogany of its adequate length, his head hung low, looking down into the depths of a half-empty pint glass. The back wall of the pub is lined with assorted bottles of alcohol in rich hues and is scattered with holly leaves and rank, poisonous mistletoe.
I stride across the tack of the crimson carpet, mapped with cream fleur de lis, sitting down next to him on a wooden barstool padded with jade velvet. Reaching into my back pocket, I slam down a fistful of cash onto the bar-top, which is sticky with hops.
“We’re checking in,” I state simply, folding my hands in front of me and leaning forward as Vex refuses to glance my way. The bartender observes me with interest, lurching forward in quick and greedy motion to grab the cash laid bare before him.
“Names?” he demands, his voice deep and lacking any refinement.
“Booking under Fischer,” I reply simply with a sigh, bored of so many formalities. I’m really not in the mood.
“Ah, you were supposed to check in last night,” he grumbles, and I shrug.
“I’ll pay you for both nights; don’t worry.” At these words, a thick fox-like smile spreads across his face, as though he’s not used to someone who finds absolutely no worth in money.
“Oh, well, thank you, Miss.” He puts a plump hand over the place where his heart resides, causing the layer of fat coating his skeleton to wobble. The too bright lights of the bar bounce off his bald head, which glistens with a slick layer of sweat, and his eyes crease at the sides.
“Can I get a glass of red wine please?” I ask him, desiring all of a sudden to forget and let go. Something I haven’t felt the courage to do in a very long time.
“I thought you didn’t drink?” Vex’s voice comes suddenly, like a growl.
“Well, I haven’t in a while. But I am from Greece originally. I do like my wine, grew up on it,” I express, trying not to be visibly effected by his prior outburst.
On the walk here, I realised that what angers me more than the fact he’s constantly analysing me is the fact that he’s actually making sense in what he’s concluding. Even if I don’t want him to, he seems to know me better than I do myself. It’s infuriating, but denying it isn’t helping me either.
“You’re not from Greece. You don’t even speak bloody Greek!” Vex counters, still not making eye contact, as he brings his pint glass to his lips and drinks deeply.
“Min ypothéste aftó pou den xérete, maláka” I condemn him, and his head turns now to face me as his eyes widen. The bartender places a large glass of red wine down in front of me, which I promptly take in hand and bring to my lips. The scent of it, the richness and full body of the flavour coats my tongue and slicks my throat as I drink deeply. Vex continues to stare.
“I stand bloody corrected,” he relinquishes, and I smile.
“Yes, you do. But you were also right before. About me.” I sigh, internally pained by the fact I’m having something slightly resembling a meaningful conversation with someone I quite often want to kill in his sleep. I just can’t bear the thought of leaving this place worse off than when I came. I can’t have endured this trip for nothing.
“Well, bloody hell! What… did you see Lucifer ice skating to work on your way over here? I think hell just froze over.” He’s smug in his expression as he takes another drag of beer from his tall glass, foam bobbing atop it. I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
“Oh, shut up. I just… I don’t want the Psirens to get eviscerated because of me. I have enough guilt already. They’re just kids…” I sigh, feeling the buzz of the wine too fast. I guess my tolerance isn’t quite what it used to be.
“So were you once,” Vex reminds me. I nod, wondering how long it’s been since I’ve felt young and naive.
“Yes, but they shouldn’t have to live with the guilt I live with. If I can save them from doing the things I’ve done. I guess that’s a good enough reason to try,” I express. Vex looks surprised as his eyes widen.
“That’s the thing. We need to forget about Poseidon. At the end of the day, doing this for him isn’t a good enough reason to deal with all the crap that comes with it. You have to do it for you, Love.”
“You sound like a life coach,” I scowl, and he shrugs, the rounded hunch of his shoulders rising and falling automatically.
“Maybe that’s because you need one,” he retorts, and I roll my eyes. He’s probably not wrong, as much as it pains me to admit it.
“Look, shut up. You were right before, okay? About the being afraid thing. I am afraid. I don’t want other people’s lives in my hands. I don’t even know how to save myself. That’s it,” I admit, and he shakes his head with a chuckle.
“I think you’re missing the point, Love.”
“And what
would that be, oh coacher of life?” I demand, on the edge of my seat as I wait to see what comes out of his mouth next.
“If Poseidon wanted those souls saving he wouldn’t have put you in charge. Don’t you see that?” He upends the glass in his hand and downs it to the dregs in one large gulp, gesturing for the bartender, who continues to watch us with interest, to draft him another.
“Well, Poseidon is a moron. We all know that.” I take another mouthful of wine, caressing the rim of the glass with my fingertip as I place it down and look into the bloody depths of the glass. I let the alcohol clear my mind, lulling me into a welcome yet unforgettably false sense of security.
“I’ve had that guy in my head…” Vex begins, and I feel myself rolling my eyes.
“Yes, yes, you’re so special… mighty vessel…. Blah blah blah!”
“Poet and you didn’t know it, Love.” He smirks then smiles at the barman, lighting up a cigarette as he serves him another pint. I find myself inhaling the scent of the smoke, which he exhales into the air, deeply, a shiver running up my spine at the familiar musk of it.
“What I meant to say was I got a look into how his mind works,” Vex continues, biting his bottom lip and cocking his head as I take a purposeful sip of my drink, the layers of flavour unravelling upon my tongue. Elongating my neck and tilting my head back, my long black hair moves to tickle the base of my spine.
“How wonderful for you. Now, it makes sense…” I lick my lips as I set the glass down yet again, crossing my arms in front of me and leaning forward, looking at our reflections in the mirror behind the bar. If you didn’t know us, you could mistake us for friends.
“What makes sodding sense now?” he sneers, and I shake my head, a smile spreading across my lips.
“Just the fact you drink so damn much. If I’d had that psycho in my head, I can’t deny I’d have gone sunbathing long before now,” I admit. Vex chuckles.
“You’d be amazed at the crap in that guy’s head. He’s having serious marital issues if you ask me.” He takes another puff on his cigarette, tilting his head back this time so I can see the throbbing of his carotid beneath the pale fragility of his flesh. He blows smoke up in a vertical column, showering me in the scent of him yet again.
“No shit. This entire war would never have happened if they’d just go to freaking counselling. Hey, maybe you should apply, seeing how you’re so full of life’s wisdom?” I tease him, and he points to himself with a look of utter incredulity on his face.
“Like Poseidon would sodding listen to me. I might be a man, but a mortal man is the equivalent to dog shit on the bottom of his brand-new shoes. He really bloody hates mortals. Like really.” I wonder if he’s feeling the effects of the alcohol as headily as I am. It certainly seems like it as we both seem to be dropping our usual vexation in favour of more productive and surprisingly interesting topics.
“I did get that impression from him, funnily enough.” I shrug. Vex nods, his eyebrows rising on his forehead as he slips his jacket off, placing it down on the bar beside him.
“That’s my point. He doesn’t give a shit about mortals. Or mortality,” he continues, and I frown.
“I’m still not seeing this point you insist is there…” I catechise him, pursing my lips.
“My point is that he doesn’t want you to bloody tame the Psirens at all. He wants you to direct their rage and power to a suitable target. He chose you to rule them not because of your lack of darkness or some kind of expectation that you’d become an innocent little sodding angel. You’re the only one out of us who can see the way in which who you are is wrong, embrace it, and still control it.” He takes another slug of alcohol from a fresh pint before continuing as I listen, actually interested in what he has to say next now I’ve gotten rid of my pride and quelled my defensiveness. The wine has certainly helped. “The Psirens don’t need a fair ruler. They need a dictator. It’s what they respond to. I saw it with Solustus. He might have used that power over them in the wrong way, but the fear he used to control them with kept them in line.” I finish my glass of wine and promptly order another as Vex’s words fall over me and I try to make sense of what he’s saying.
“So, you’re saying I need to play the bad guy?” I query, my tone nothing if not surprised. He nods with enthusiasm, as though he’s highly stimulated by the entire conversation… though whether it’s the topic or the fact I’m actually paying attention, I can’t discern.
“Callie and Orion… excuse the comparison, Love, rule with kindness, fairness… Psirens are going to look at that and see only weakness. You need to rule with a bloody unyielding iron fist, Love. That’s why I know you’re the right person for this job, and so did Poseidon. You’re one of the most terrifying people I’ve ever met when you want to be. It’s why I like you so much. You’ve never taken anyone’s shit. Well… until recently.” He finishes the sentiment, dropping his gaze to the depths of his glass, and I cringe slightly.
“You think I’ve been taking people’s shit?” I ask him, taking advantage of the straight-talking atmosphere between us. Vex lifts his cigarette to his lips and breathes in deep, nostrils flaring, before exhaling with a sigh.
“Don’t you?” he asks me, and I consider this for a moment. “The Azure I know would never have let that Hydraball game go ahead, let alone allow that goddamn pipsqueak Celius to live after putting our reputation in the toilet even further with the other pods. The Azure I know doesn’t mope in self-pity. The Azure I know…” I interrupt him as I take a sip from the new glass of wine that’s been set before me.
“Alright, I get it. That’s the problem though isn’t it? You don’t know me. Not really.” I break the moment of seeming connection between us, and Vex smirks, a certain knowingness flickering behind his eyes with smug entitlement.
“Well… we’re soulmates aren’t we, Love? Or did you overlook that little titbit?” I feel my eyes widen, and I turn to him, face furious.
“Fuck off. That’s utter bullshit.” I shake my head with vigour, denying his claim as utterly ridiculous. Which it is.
“Is it, Love? Is it bloody really? Because you know I’m a vessel. I absorb. I absorbed the darkness from Miss Callie Pierce, I absorbed the visions from your sister… what if I absorbed more than that though? What about if I absorbed the part of her soul which pairs with yours.” He whispers this in my ear as he leans over, and the smoke on his breath curls around my cheek, making my eyes water as I take in the stench of it.
“Fuck off.” I repeat the sentiment, and he laughs.
“Scares you doesn’t it, Love? The thought that you could ever be close to someone. Just for a moment. Just one more thing for life to take from you, right?” He’s smug in his expression, causing the urge to smack him, hard, to rear its head within me.
I say nothing, having no response, down my drink, and order another.
Several hours of silent drinking later, and Vex’s resolve cracks. We’re both drunk, drunker than we should be, but I really don’t care.
“Well, I’m wrecked, don’t know about you,” he announces, and I snort, giggling.
“So, what’s new?” I ask him.
“Oi! That’s enough of that shit from you, Love. The amount of wine you’ve had I’m amazed you’re not mounting me right here,” he smiles, salacious, and I roll my eyes.
“You’re such a creep, you know that?” I ask him, still giggling, and he snorts.
“And you’re a bitch.”
“Well, aren’t we a pair. Freaking made for each other.” I joke to myself, remembering his insane notion that we’re soulmates. It couldn’t be further from the truth. At least, it’s insane enough that I can laugh at it though.
“So, Love. Have you thought about getting your spunk back?” He licks his bottom lip yet again and I scowl.
“You know you need to stop licking your bottom lip like that; it’s not sexy, it makes you look like a fucking stalker,” I snap, feeling angry at this small yet significant feature, which u
ndeniably drives me crazy.
“So that’s a no on the spunk then?”
“Yep, that’s a no,” I exclaim, feeling sloppy, and he sighs.
“Shame. I was hoping to watch you screaming my name later.” I turn around on my seat, fuelled by alcohol and beyond vexed by him, bringing my hand up and slapping him around the face in full force.
“Bloody hell!” he exclaims, spinning me on my stool and placing his hand on my knee, grabbing firmly. I feel shivers run up the inside of my thigh and my breathing quicken in my chest, unwanted but undeniably there. “Look, I get it. You hate me. I annoy the shit out of you. But maybe that’s because it’s what you need to get you out of this sodding pity party you’ve been in,” he exclaims, accusatory, and I glare at him.
“You think you’re so smart, Chase. But the reality is, you don’t know shit. Not about me. Not about the Psirens. I was murdering, slaughtering, before you were born, and I’ll be doing it long after you’re sand at the bottom of the sea.” I hiss, feeling rage returning to me unlike anything I’ve felt for months.
“Your pain doesn’t make you special, Azure. I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but we all have shit. We all fail people; we all lose people. Not all of us let it kill our spirit though,” he whispers, the words intended to hurt me as our conversation hits a new rhythm, becoming a competition of who can wound the other more.
“What would you know about spirit? Yours died the day you became Poseidon’s little bitch boy,” I bite, taking my wine in hand and downing the glass. The contents push me over the edge, and the room begins to spin.
“I’d rather be a bitch boy than some pathetic scared little girl. Scared of the darkness within, scared of who she is. Because one day, I’ll be free of Poseidon, you’ll never be free of the beast inside.” I get to my feet, pushing the barstool out behind me and feeling my rage building even more uncontrollably than usual due to the wine.
“You don’t know shit about me, stay the fuck away from me. I don’t need this crap.” I feel my heart pounding heavy, excited, as the room continues to tilt and sway.
Vexed: A Tidal Kiss Novella (The Tidal Kiss Trilogy Book 5) Page 10