The Leech & The Whore [8]
Ooh it's been a long time. XD Happy Christmas all! Am posting this in an attempt to get me writing more.
BRIEF IMPORTANT NOTE - if you happen to have stumbled across this and don't actually know me...this is not a fanfiction and the characters and situation belong entirely to me. Please remember this!
“Nephilim.”
Blake hissed the word over his shoulder as they rushed home. The journey had taken an hour longer than expected and Phoenix almost had to run to keep up with his companion. If he hadn’t been so tense, the leech would have appreciated having to race against the rising sun a lot more.
“What’s that?”
“Not ‘what’s that’. You mean ‘who’re they’. I mentioned them to you before.”
“Oh, yes. Once. Maybe if you talked about it more, I’d have remembered.”
“Whatever,”
“Who are they, then? Will you tell me that?”
“They’re sulky bastards.”
“Right.”
“With wings.”
“What?
Blake tried to explain as they hurried, sentences broken and filled with enough anger to make Phoenix suspect the leech had more experience with these creatures than he was letting on. According to Blake, the nephilim looked just like normal people except for the fact they were insufferably smug and tended to look at you as if they could read your mind because, in a way, they could. They could see what they called ‘auras’, something that Blake made it quite clear he didn’t believe in, which allowed them to gauge a person’s state of mind. When Phoenix pressed him about the wings comment, Blake grudgingly admitted that they weren’t the same as humans physically they could just hide their true appearance. Apparently, this varied from person to person but always included some sort of wings and unusual eyes.
“They have other characteristics,” Blake shrugged, “but you won’t find me getting close enough to find out what they are.”
“So how do they hide it?”
Reaching the door to their block of flats, Blake pulled on the handle and held it open for Phoenix to enter. He avoided catching the redhead’s eye as he passed and instead shuffled his feet with discomfort.
“This is the part I didn’t want to tell you. It’s like something out of a fucking horror movie.”
It took until they were settled comfortably in bed with their clothes neatly folded away and empty glasses of wine on the bedside tables for Blake to explain it fully. From what Phoenix could understand, these nephilim creatures could travel to what they referred to as ‘a different plane’ but what Blake seemed to believe was some underground system that had yet to be discovered. When they were walking around with normal people, they could hide their preternatural attributes by fazing them out of the plane. Blake thought this was bullshit and was willing to bet it was all down to trickery, like Phoenix’s ability to hide his scars.
“You said there were no monsters,” Phoenix said at length, “just people with extras. So...”
“Yeah. I lied. Sorry.”
“What else aren’t you telling me?”
Phoenix’s voice was angry enough to get Blake’s attention. The leech sighed and shrugged.
“Not a lot. I don’t know as much as you think.”
“But-“
“It’s dangerous to know, okay? You’re a good guy, Phoe. I don’t want you to have to see all that shit. You’ve only got one foot in that world. Best to keep it that way.”
“Are you patronising me?” Phoenix propped himself up on one elbow and raised an eyebrow at Blake. “I don’t need protecting.”
“Oh, really? You were flirting with one of them. That’s how they hurt people, by letting you think you’re close to them. And what I said about it all being gangs? Forget it. Your lot might keep to themselves and my lot don’t bother people too much but the nephilim are out to kill people.”
“He seemed like a nice guy.”
“Kill people, Phoe. That’s why I was so fucking angry at him. I can’t stand them, arrogant assholes.”
Blake twitched as a hand brushed against his cheek and fell silent.
“Thanks. For sharing that. Wasn’t as bad as you were expecting, right?”
Blake rolled his eyes but didn’t reply.
“And thanks for this weekend. It was-“
“Say something as queer as ‘nice’ again and I swear I won’t speak to you for a week.”
Phoenix grinned and turned onto his side, pulling the leech towards him with one strong arm and ignoring any other protests.
“I was going to say ‘fun’. It’s been good not fighting. Well, not as much as usual. Do you think we can keep it up?”
Blake considered this for a long moment, enjoying the warmth of the redhead’s body against his own and looking back on what had been a good weekend despite his complaints. But the game was over, now. After this chat, he could no longer pretend they were just normal guys with a dysfunctional friendship. The girls in the bus station had been enough to prove that. Blake could get on fine with only Phoenix for company but the incubus was going to get bored again, sooner or later.
“Doubt it,” he mumbled.
“Can we try?”
Blake closed his eyes, biting back the words that arose unbidden and feigning sleep.
Phoenix managed three weeks. Blake knew the incubus was finding it difficult when he started suggesting they try visiting different pubs of a Friday evening, having run out of singles or players at The Pit that were willing to talk to him. For a few weeks, they visited different places, Blake sitting at the bar and getting progressively angrier while Phoenix found himself someone to flirt with. Invariably, the evenings would end with Blake physically pulling the redhead away from someone and slamming him into a wall, the bar or a nearby table. This would have been fine if the rest of the evening had improved but from there things would only get worse.
These fights were different from the ones before. Before, the punches and tackles had been fuelled by grudging affection and mounting sexual tension. By the end of the night, punches were exchanged for kisses, insults for apologies. In some way, the violence was always balanced out. Now, the fights didn’t seem to end, not even when they were home. It wasn’t that they’d stopped talking or even stopped sleeping together it was just that everything felt angry and false, as if they were only words away from utter chaos.
They talked about it, once, Phoenix too drunk to stand and Blake hazy on a mix of vodka and pills. Phoenix blamed everything on Blake’s inability to open up and talk about himself or about anything that could be considered supernatural. Blake blamed it on the redhead, calling him a shameless whore and every other insult he could think of but quietly agreed. He knew that his silence was driving Phoenix mad. He could understand it. He could sympathise. But it didn’t change anything.
It didn’t change the fact that every indecipherable pull in his chest terrified him. Phoenix was too close for comfort already. If it meant he could keep his distance and stop the confusion, Blake would deal with watching the redhead with others, however angry it made him feel.
And that night in June, spent at The Worlds End in Camden Town, made him incredibly angry. That night, Phoenix had a plan.
“Stop being such a cynic and smile, Blake, for god’s sake.”
The four of them were sitting in one of the dark booths near the bar; Phoenix, Blake and two girls who had been introduced as Claire and Hazel. For a reason he couldn’t quite work out, Blake doubted these were their real names. Claire was tall and striking, all blonde curls and pink lips. Phoenix had been draped over her since they had arrived and Blake didn’t doubt they had already slept together at least once. He recognised her perfume for a start.
Hazel was different. Small, petite almost, with dark hair and nervous eyes. Although no one had actually gone so far as to use the words ‘double date’, it seemed clear that she was meant to be pairing up with Blake. Phoenix’s confidence in the leech’s pulling powers was proving itself baseless since Hazel hadn’t looked at Blake more than twice all evening.
“You too, Hazel,” Claire joined in, sliding herself into Phoenix’s lap. “Smile more!”
Blake drained the rest of his glass and was surprised when the click of it being set back down was answered by one from Hazel. He glanced at her sidelong, wondering why she seemed to be as unhappy as he was. Probably not for similar reasons although she was being very cold towards Claire, considering they were meant to be best friends. Looking up, Blake found Phoenix staring at him, clearly trying to encourage him to do something other than sit there and mope.
“Want another drink?” Blake asked Hazel with clear reluctance. She nodded without looking at him and he got to his feet, pointedly ignoring the way Phoenix and Claire were grinning at him in approval. “Same as before?” Another nod. “Great.”
Blake almost tripped over the edge of the table in his hurry to get away, much preferring the company of an apathetic barman than the sickening atmosphere of the booth. There was something unpleasant about watching two people paw each other without shame while they waited for you to make the move on someone who was clearly uninterested.
He leant on the bar with a sigh, gazing at the rows of coloured bottles that shone in the dim orange light. Although the endless bar-hopping was getting on his nerves, he had to admit he liked this place a lot. Dark wood and intricate patterns seemed to be the theme but the bar managed to maintain a feeling of being spacious even when it was this busy. It was the sort of place that Blake would picture in his mind when hearing the word ‘pub’, a far cry from the soulless bars and dives of New York. He didn’t mind waiting to be served, especially since he could hear Claire laughing behind him.
“Gin and tonic, please.”
That voice. Blake’s eyes widened and he turned to the right, looking straight into a pair of sharp green eyes. The pale lips beneath them were smiling.
“Déjà vu,” the man said. “It would seem that you two really know how to pick a nightspot, wouldn’t it?”
“Stay the hell away from us,” Blake hissed. He had to get Phoenix out of here before the idiot could do something stupid and drunk like asking to see the nephilim’s wings. A strong hand around his wrist stopped him from walking away, another grabbing his fist as he swung it towards the man’s face.
“I’m not here for you,” he said. His smile had vanished completely. “So calm down.”
“Let me go.”
“I’m going to. I just thought you should know that it’s not your little red-haired friend you need to be worried about protecting.”
Before Blake could question him, the man had released him and disappeared into the throng of bodies surrounding the bar. He scanned the crowd with wild eyes, too angry to process what he had heard.
“Your friend forgot this,” the barman was saying, holding out the abandoned glass of gin and tonic out towards Blake. The leech waved a hand and turned away, muttering.
“He’s not my friend.”
Friend. Phoenix. What had the asshole been saying? Chest tight with an anxiety he couldn’t name, Blake pushed his way through the people, using elbows and knees to force a path. When he reached the booth they had all been occupying, he found Phoenix and Claire alone. Not one to miss an opportunity, it appeared that Phoenix was attempting to steal the girl’s soul through her mouth.
“Where’s Hazel?” Blake asked, too confused to yell at them for their behaviour just yet. “Hey. Guys. Guys, come on.”
Phoenix looked up with obvious reluctance, Claire keeping her eyes closed.
“She said she was going out for a smoke,” he said, voice heavy. “Why’re you so-“
“Damn it.”
Blake turned away and left the incubus to the blonde, employing the same method of elbows and knees to work his way back through the crowd, this time with added fists and curses. He wasn’t sure why he was going, for all he knew the cocky nephilim bastard could have been lying and it could all be some elaborate trap. But the combination of the unusual gesture of charity from the nephilim and the dark look in Hazel’s eyes went straight to Blake’s core. Something was going on and if Phoenix was too busy to help him work it out he was just going to have to do it his own way.
The entrance wasn’t far away and he was running by the time he reached the doors, stumbling over the steps and only avoiding hitting the concrete slabs outside by steadying himself against a phone box. The air was warm but now that he was away from the happy fog that surrounds a group of communal drunkards, Blake could feel goose bumps rising on his skin. He’d left his jacket inside, he could remember seeing it left on his seat next to Hazel’s. Next to Hazel’s? She hadn’t taken her jacket either?
Hands curling into pre-emptive fists, Blake raced around the side of the building, using the train station and the crossroads as a navigation point. The streets outside World’s End were empty so he kept running down the side road, flashing past a bank and a row of tumbledown houses, until he saw the mouth of an alleyway. It was dark, the district council not wanting to waste electricity by lighting such a nondescript strip of street, but he thought he caught a flicker of movement in the shadows and that was enough to investigate.
Blake plunged into the darkness without slowing. He heard a gasp and a low murmur from the other end of the alleyway and endeavoured to speed up, if just to find out what stupid, insignificant event was happening so that he could stop his heart from pounding so fast that it hurt. With an angry cry, he tripped over the corner of a wheelie-bin that was invisible in the shadows and went flying headfirst towards the ground. Pain exploded in his head as he landed, cheek scraping across the broken and dirty floor. He could feel shards of glass cutting into his bare arms and suspected one knee was bleeding.
“Blake?”
A woman. He hadn’t heard her speak enough to be sure just from her voice but once he had clambered back to his feet he could just see Hazel watching him, her face illuminated by a gas lighter held in one hand. A lighter, but no cigarette. He wondered if she even smoked.
“Are you-“
“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped, spitting blood from a split lip. “It’s not safe for...”
That was when he noticed the pills. A whole bottle of them, brown glass and a tiny printed label that meant prescription. It balanced in her other hand, held out in front of her as if she had been contemplating them. The lid was missing, as were half the pills. Noticing him looking, she took a step back into the shadows.
Which came to life.
Blake had just enough time to dive backwards as sharp metal flashed towards him in a flurry of black feathers.
“If I can interrupt...”
Phoenix tore himself away from the girl for a moment, expecting some cleaner or hopeful who wanted attention.
His mind was hazy with lust and the gin he was able to drink when he wouldn’t be kissing Blake in the near future and so it took him a few moments to recognise who was talking to him.
“It’s not that I’m calling you bad friends,” the green-eyed man said with a small smile. “And it’s not that I want to ruin your fun. It’s just that there’s something I need to show you. Not you.” He pointed a finger towards Claire, who was climbing out of Phoenix’s lap, and then gestured towards the redhead. “You.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Why should I-“
“You want to know more about the world you’re part of, correct?”
“How do you-“
“Then follow me. Quickly please.”
The bin lid was a useless shield and shattered in Blake’s hands. He twisted to the side, finally catching a good look at the weapon that seemed intent on taking his life. An elegant katana, black from the hilt to the tip, was now slicing sideways towards him. As he ducked, hearing the metal slash too easily into the bricks, it seemed a shame that such a good weapon was being wasted on him in a place like this.
Hazel had backed away, further into the alley, but hadn’t run. She was watching the onslaught with the wide and horrified eyes of someone who had nothing to fear except the fear itself. Blake would have tried to comfort her, or at least to knock the damn pills away from her, if he hadn’t been fighting for his life.
It should have been easier to avoid the blows. In the years since moving to London, he’d had no need to practice.
He rolled forwards, aimed at the shadowy attackers legs, and cried out as the sword sliced into the back of one arm. The creature fell back onto the alley floor and Blake got a glimpse of pale skin and eyes that were all pupil before a foot was pushed into his chest and he was sent sprawling. He lay still and fought off the hollow feeling that came from having his breath knocked away from him.
“Curious little parasite,” the creature hissed in a man’s voice, rising back to its feet and walking forwards with cold purpose. “You have just brought months of work to nothing. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
His eyes now having adjusted a little to the darkness, Blake looked beyond the man to see that Hazel had vanished, probably up the spindly fire escape that run along one building. He hoped so. If she hadn’t cared enough to run far and was going to kill herself anyway, Blake was going to die for no reason whatsoever.
“It’s only fair that I have something to take back,” the creature continued, katana now pointing directly at Blake’s chest. The long wings rustled as he walked, the lower feathers glinting green as if they had been dipped in oil. Blake struggled for breath, if only so he could curse the nephilim assholes to hell and back again, but could only fix the creature with a livid yellow stare.
The sword moved, now pointing towards Blake’s throat.
“I have heard cutting out your heart will do nothing whatsoever,” he continued. “I’d be interested to see if you can still regenerate without a head.”
Phoenix dived into the alleyway, leaving the blonde man far behind. He hadn’t understood what he had been told other than the words leech and dying which had been enough to make running seem necessary. The alley flared into life, the beam of a high-powered torch coming from behind him.
He paused for a second as his mind processed what he was seeing. Blake, sprawled on the floor and covered in blood. Standing over him, an Asian man who was far too pale with eyes as black as tar and wings that filled the alley from wall to wall. There was a rustle of movement from behind him and Phoenix turned with wide eyes, one hand raised in hesitant defence.
His vision went black as something heavy collided with his skull and he sank to the ground beside Blake. A grey feather spiralled through the air and landed in the blood spilling from Blake’s arm.
“You’ll thank me later,” the blonde nephilim whispered.
Judging from the echoes bouncing off of the stone walls, the cell was part of a long row in an empty room. Other than the dirty light that flickered through the bars from a line of guttering candles it was dark as night although according to Phoenix’s watch it should have been daylight by now. He had been staring at his watch almost constantly since he had come to and was doing the same now, following the hands as they crept around for the third time.
He dragged his eyes away and pressed a hand to his temple. His head was aching like nothing he had never experienced since he was suffering both an acute hangover and the effects of being struck with a heavy electric torch. He glanced towards Blake, who was sprawled face down on the floor of the cell next to him. After a moment’s thought, he stretched out a leg and kicked the leech in the ribs. There had been no response the last four times he had tried but it made him feel a little better.
“Fuck’n hell.”
The leech rolled onto his back and Phoenix got a good look at the state his friend was in for the first time. Phoenix had no idea what had been happening in the alleyway before he had arrived but he could see it hadn’t been pleasant. Blood had soaked through the deep green of his shirt, the left sleeve missing from where it had been ripped by something sharp. The shirt was torn in several other places and tiny splinters of glass clung to the material along with dirt from the floor.
“What the fuck’re you starin’ at?”
“Your face.”
A slow blink. “You’ve never found it that interesting before.”
After a long moment of silence, Phoenix flung his hands up in a helpless gesture and raised his voice.
“How can you have bled that much but look fine? Jesus Christ, you’ve been out cold for at least five hours and you’re not even bruised.”
“Uh, hello?” Blake dragged himself up and onto his knees. “How long have you known me? You should be used to this by now.”
“But...”
The leech coughed and clawed at his throat.
“The fucker strangled me.”
“What?”
Phoenix watched as Blake lowered his hands again, now holding a dark strip of twisted cloth. The skin it had been wrapped around was unmarked. He leant forwards over his knees and slowly straightened it out, expression changing subtly from anger to disappointment.
“Vindictive bastard.”
“Why?” Phoenix asked, trying and failing to raise his voice above a sort of horrified murmur.
Blake tossed the material towards the redhead. After holding it for only a second, he dropped it with a hastily smothered yelp. The material was dark green where it wasn’t stained black with blood. One end was ragged while the other ended in two small plastic buttons.
“I loved that shirt,” Blake said mournfully. “I only bought the fucking thing a last week.”
“Isn’t there something else you should be angry about?” Phoenix asked. “Who was he and why the hell did he try and strangle you?”
“If you’d listened to me a few weeks ago, you’d...” His words died on his lips as he turned and looked towards the redhead at last. “Fucking hell, Phoe. What did they do to you?”
He was leaning up against the cell wall, knees drawn up to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs. The candlelight not fooling Blake with his superior night-vision, he could see that Phoenix was unnaturally pale, his eyes wide and nervous. From under his scarlet hair trailed a line of dried blood.
“I’m fine,” he lied. “They just knocked me out. What about-“
“Forget about what they did to me, okay? Only the shirt is ruined. Excuse me for sounding melodramatic, but I’m used to this shit. Now.”He moved towards Phoenix, crawling along on his hands and knees and eyes obviously glowing amber.
“Are you okay, Phoenix?” He spoke slowly and carefully, as if speaking to a child.
“I...”
Phoenix lowered his eyes and stared unseeing at the floor. For once, his expression was void of any hint of amusement or cunning. He looked younger, somehow, a child dressed in his older brother’s clothes. Blake thought about reaching out to comfort him but decided against it. He’d never seen the incubus like this and didn’t know how he would react. After Phoenix had watched the second hand on his watch make another complete revolution, he looked back up.
“I’m scared,” he said. “Aren’t you?”
Blake glanced around, taking in the iron bars and the candlelight. He shrugged.
“How?” Phoenix asked, shuffling along the floor until he had retreated into one corner, away from the leech.
“Because we’re alive,” Blake said simply, watching Phoenix move with helpless eyes. “That dude, the arrogant blonde one, he stopped the other fucker from killing us. Said something about ‘policy’ or some shit like that. So-“
“You mean from killing me.”
“What?”
“He strangled you, didn’t he? That would have killed me. But you...”
Blake had to lower his eyes. The fear and confusion that was being directed towards him this time was more than he could bear.
“Yeah. Say whatever you like about it, Phoe. It’s not like I won’t have thought it before. Do you think it’s easy being such a freak?”
“Blake...”
“But look at it this way. Are you more scared of me or of this place? Do you think I could kill you?”
“Well, yes.” A voice echoed down the corridor and reverberated around the cell.
There was a loud metal clang and they looked over to see the blonde nephilim rapping his fingers against the bars, a rusted ring on one finger making the noise. Anyone would now be able to tell he wasn’t human. A pair of large feathered wings covered his back, the feathers fading from grey to black at the tip.
“He could kill you,” the man said with a half-smile. “He’s certainly strong enough to. What,” he said, catching Phoenix’s expression, “hasn’t he told you that yet?”
Carefully not looking at Blake, Phoenix scrambled to his feet and approached the bars.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Blake hissed from his position on the floor.
“No,” Phoenix said loudly, wrapping his fingers around the bars and returning the nephilim’s green gaze with equal intensity. “He hasn’t really told me anything. Not in months and months.”
“What would you like to know?” the nephilim asked. Standing this close, Phoenix could see a dark line running around the man’s throat, much like the strip of sleeve had been wrapped around Blake’s before.
“Everything,” Phoenix said breathlessly. “I think I deserve some explanation now, don’t I?”
“Indeed.” The nephilim glanced towards Blake who had fallen silent. “Indeed you do. But first, how about I let you two out of here?”
“We can go free?”
“You can, yes. You’re not meant to but it is possible. You just have to trust me.”
Blake staggered to his feet and virtually threw himself at the bars, lips twisted into a scowl.
“Trust a nephilim?” the leech spat. “You really think we’re that fucking stupid? You’re the one that brought us here.”
“Yes, I am. If I hadn’t, my colleague would have killed you both in the alleyway and you would currently be a nuisance to the police. I saved you, whether you want to believe it or not. I’d like to do so again.”
“Why?”
With a smile, the man unlocked the cell door and stepped inside, locking it neatly after himself. Phoenix had to press an arm against Blake’s chest to stop the leech from flinging himself at the man.
“I’ll explain once you’re safely back in London,” he said softly. “And answer any other questions you might have, to the best of my ability.”
“Oh come on, as if-“
“Okay.”
Blake turned incredulous eyes upon Phoenix as the redhead nodded, pale skin stained with dirt and blood. The nephilim nodded.
“I’m going to have to ask you to close your eyes.”
“Sure.”
“But-“
As Phoenix closed his eyes, Blake was forced to stop speaking. His mouth was dry suddenly and he realised he had been biting his lip in frustration, the skin now raw and bloodied. The determination in the redhead’s eyes had been frightening. As a race, the nephilim knew far too much. Blake had seen them, back in New York. They’d watched what was being done to him and his siblings and had done nothing to stop it.
Phoenix could never find out about that. The very idea made the leech sick to his stomach.
“And you?”
He looked up into green eyes that carried the patience of centuries and knew he had no choice.
“What’s your name?” Blake asked. “I need to know in case you screw us over and I have to track you down.”
“Wise,” the man smiled. “You can call me Kay.”
“Is that your name?”
“More or less.”
“I want your real name.”
A pause during which the smile flickered and then a slow nod. “All right. My name is Kari. Not many people know that.”
“Am I meant to feel honoured?”
“Not at all.”
“Fine.” Blake closed his eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”
The air began to feel cold, a breeze apparently springing out of the walls and blowing towards Kari. It had been a long time since Blake had been truly frightened but he felt nervous now. Blood and violence he knew how to cope with, this sort of experience was alien to him. As the cold became painful, he reached out blindly and caught hold of Phoenix’s hand, not caring anymore how it might be perceived. If Kari was going to frighten the incubus off anyway, this small gesture would ultimately mean nothing.
“Thank you,” Phoenix said clearly, speaking loud to be heard over the wind. He squeezed Blake’s fingers and laced them together with his own as the world faded into a screaming, frozen fog and cold hands pushed them forwards. Kari spoke to them as he followed, voice laced with amusement.
“Hold your breath.”
BRIEF IMPORTANT NOTE - if you happen to have stumbled across this and don't actually know me...this is not a fanfiction and the characters and situation belong entirely to me. Please remember this!
“Nephilim.”
Blake hissed the word over his shoulder as they rushed home. The journey had taken an hour longer than expected and Phoenix almost had to run to keep up with his companion. If he hadn’t been so tense, the leech would have appreciated having to race against the rising sun a lot more.
“What’s that?”
“Not ‘what’s that’. You mean ‘who’re they’. I mentioned them to you before.”
“Oh, yes. Once. Maybe if you talked about it more, I’d have remembered.”
“Whatever,”
“Who are they, then? Will you tell me that?”
“They’re sulky bastards.”
“Right.”
“With wings.”
“What?
Blake tried to explain as they hurried, sentences broken and filled with enough anger to make Phoenix suspect the leech had more experience with these creatures than he was letting on. According to Blake, the nephilim looked just like normal people except for the fact they were insufferably smug and tended to look at you as if they could read your mind because, in a way, they could. They could see what they called ‘auras’, something that Blake made it quite clear he didn’t believe in, which allowed them to gauge a person’s state of mind. When Phoenix pressed him about the wings comment, Blake grudgingly admitted that they weren’t the same as humans physically they could just hide their true appearance. Apparently, this varied from person to person but always included some sort of wings and unusual eyes.
“They have other characteristics,” Blake shrugged, “but you won’t find me getting close enough to find out what they are.”
“So how do they hide it?”
Reaching the door to their block of flats, Blake pulled on the handle and held it open for Phoenix to enter. He avoided catching the redhead’s eye as he passed and instead shuffled his feet with discomfort.
“This is the part I didn’t want to tell you. It’s like something out of a fucking horror movie.”
It took until they were settled comfortably in bed with their clothes neatly folded away and empty glasses of wine on the bedside tables for Blake to explain it fully. From what Phoenix could understand, these nephilim creatures could travel to what they referred to as ‘a different plane’ but what Blake seemed to believe was some underground system that had yet to be discovered. When they were walking around with normal people, they could hide their preternatural attributes by fazing them out of the plane. Blake thought this was bullshit and was willing to bet it was all down to trickery, like Phoenix’s ability to hide his scars.
“You said there were no monsters,” Phoenix said at length, “just people with extras. So...”
“Yeah. I lied. Sorry.”
“What else aren’t you telling me?”
Phoenix’s voice was angry enough to get Blake’s attention. The leech sighed and shrugged.
“Not a lot. I don’t know as much as you think.”
“But-“
“It’s dangerous to know, okay? You’re a good guy, Phoe. I don’t want you to have to see all that shit. You’ve only got one foot in that world. Best to keep it that way.”
“Are you patronising me?” Phoenix propped himself up on one elbow and raised an eyebrow at Blake. “I don’t need protecting.”
“Oh, really? You were flirting with one of them. That’s how they hurt people, by letting you think you’re close to them. And what I said about it all being gangs? Forget it. Your lot might keep to themselves and my lot don’t bother people too much but the nephilim are out to kill people.”
“He seemed like a nice guy.”
“Kill people, Phoe. That’s why I was so fucking angry at him. I can’t stand them, arrogant assholes.”
Blake twitched as a hand brushed against his cheek and fell silent.
“Thanks. For sharing that. Wasn’t as bad as you were expecting, right?”
Blake rolled his eyes but didn’t reply.
“And thanks for this weekend. It was-“
“Say something as queer as ‘nice’ again and I swear I won’t speak to you for a week.”
Phoenix grinned and turned onto his side, pulling the leech towards him with one strong arm and ignoring any other protests.
“I was going to say ‘fun’. It’s been good not fighting. Well, not as much as usual. Do you think we can keep it up?”
Blake considered this for a long moment, enjoying the warmth of the redhead’s body against his own and looking back on what had been a good weekend despite his complaints. But the game was over, now. After this chat, he could no longer pretend they were just normal guys with a dysfunctional friendship. The girls in the bus station had been enough to prove that. Blake could get on fine with only Phoenix for company but the incubus was going to get bored again, sooner or later.
“Doubt it,” he mumbled.
“Can we try?”
Blake closed his eyes, biting back the words that arose unbidden and feigning sleep.
Phoenix managed three weeks. Blake knew the incubus was finding it difficult when he started suggesting they try visiting different pubs of a Friday evening, having run out of singles or players at The Pit that were willing to talk to him. For a few weeks, they visited different places, Blake sitting at the bar and getting progressively angrier while Phoenix found himself someone to flirt with. Invariably, the evenings would end with Blake physically pulling the redhead away from someone and slamming him into a wall, the bar or a nearby table. This would have been fine if the rest of the evening had improved but from there things would only get worse.
These fights were different from the ones before. Before, the punches and tackles had been fuelled by grudging affection and mounting sexual tension. By the end of the night, punches were exchanged for kisses, insults for apologies. In some way, the violence was always balanced out. Now, the fights didn’t seem to end, not even when they were home. It wasn’t that they’d stopped talking or even stopped sleeping together it was just that everything felt angry and false, as if they were only words away from utter chaos.
They talked about it, once, Phoenix too drunk to stand and Blake hazy on a mix of vodka and pills. Phoenix blamed everything on Blake’s inability to open up and talk about himself or about anything that could be considered supernatural. Blake blamed it on the redhead, calling him a shameless whore and every other insult he could think of but quietly agreed. He knew that his silence was driving Phoenix mad. He could understand it. He could sympathise. But it didn’t change anything.
It didn’t change the fact that every indecipherable pull in his chest terrified him. Phoenix was too close for comfort already. If it meant he could keep his distance and stop the confusion, Blake would deal with watching the redhead with others, however angry it made him feel.
And that night in June, spent at The Worlds End in Camden Town, made him incredibly angry. That night, Phoenix had a plan.
“Stop being such a cynic and smile, Blake, for god’s sake.”
The four of them were sitting in one of the dark booths near the bar; Phoenix, Blake and two girls who had been introduced as Claire and Hazel. For a reason he couldn’t quite work out, Blake doubted these were their real names. Claire was tall and striking, all blonde curls and pink lips. Phoenix had been draped over her since they had arrived and Blake didn’t doubt they had already slept together at least once. He recognised her perfume for a start.
Hazel was different. Small, petite almost, with dark hair and nervous eyes. Although no one had actually gone so far as to use the words ‘double date’, it seemed clear that she was meant to be pairing up with Blake. Phoenix’s confidence in the leech’s pulling powers was proving itself baseless since Hazel hadn’t looked at Blake more than twice all evening.
“You too, Hazel,” Claire joined in, sliding herself into Phoenix’s lap. “Smile more!”
Blake drained the rest of his glass and was surprised when the click of it being set back down was answered by one from Hazel. He glanced at her sidelong, wondering why she seemed to be as unhappy as he was. Probably not for similar reasons although she was being very cold towards Claire, considering they were meant to be best friends. Looking up, Blake found Phoenix staring at him, clearly trying to encourage him to do something other than sit there and mope.
“Want another drink?” Blake asked Hazel with clear reluctance. She nodded without looking at him and he got to his feet, pointedly ignoring the way Phoenix and Claire were grinning at him in approval. “Same as before?” Another nod. “Great.”
Blake almost tripped over the edge of the table in his hurry to get away, much preferring the company of an apathetic barman than the sickening atmosphere of the booth. There was something unpleasant about watching two people paw each other without shame while they waited for you to make the move on someone who was clearly uninterested.
He leant on the bar with a sigh, gazing at the rows of coloured bottles that shone in the dim orange light. Although the endless bar-hopping was getting on his nerves, he had to admit he liked this place a lot. Dark wood and intricate patterns seemed to be the theme but the bar managed to maintain a feeling of being spacious even when it was this busy. It was the sort of place that Blake would picture in his mind when hearing the word ‘pub’, a far cry from the soulless bars and dives of New York. He didn’t mind waiting to be served, especially since he could hear Claire laughing behind him.
“Gin and tonic, please.”
That voice. Blake’s eyes widened and he turned to the right, looking straight into a pair of sharp green eyes. The pale lips beneath them were smiling.
“Déjà vu,” the man said. “It would seem that you two really know how to pick a nightspot, wouldn’t it?”
“Stay the hell away from us,” Blake hissed. He had to get Phoenix out of here before the idiot could do something stupid and drunk like asking to see the nephilim’s wings. A strong hand around his wrist stopped him from walking away, another grabbing his fist as he swung it towards the man’s face.
“I’m not here for you,” he said. His smile had vanished completely. “So calm down.”
“Let me go.”
“I’m going to. I just thought you should know that it’s not your little red-haired friend you need to be worried about protecting.”
Before Blake could question him, the man had released him and disappeared into the throng of bodies surrounding the bar. He scanned the crowd with wild eyes, too angry to process what he had heard.
“Your friend forgot this,” the barman was saying, holding out the abandoned glass of gin and tonic out towards Blake. The leech waved a hand and turned away, muttering.
“He’s not my friend.”
Friend. Phoenix. What had the asshole been saying? Chest tight with an anxiety he couldn’t name, Blake pushed his way through the people, using elbows and knees to force a path. When he reached the booth they had all been occupying, he found Phoenix and Claire alone. Not one to miss an opportunity, it appeared that Phoenix was attempting to steal the girl’s soul through her mouth.
“Where’s Hazel?” Blake asked, too confused to yell at them for their behaviour just yet. “Hey. Guys. Guys, come on.”
Phoenix looked up with obvious reluctance, Claire keeping her eyes closed.
“She said she was going out for a smoke,” he said, voice heavy. “Why’re you so-“
“Damn it.”
Blake turned away and left the incubus to the blonde, employing the same method of elbows and knees to work his way back through the crowd, this time with added fists and curses. He wasn’t sure why he was going, for all he knew the cocky nephilim bastard could have been lying and it could all be some elaborate trap. But the combination of the unusual gesture of charity from the nephilim and the dark look in Hazel’s eyes went straight to Blake’s core. Something was going on and if Phoenix was too busy to help him work it out he was just going to have to do it his own way.
The entrance wasn’t far away and he was running by the time he reached the doors, stumbling over the steps and only avoiding hitting the concrete slabs outside by steadying himself against a phone box. The air was warm but now that he was away from the happy fog that surrounds a group of communal drunkards, Blake could feel goose bumps rising on his skin. He’d left his jacket inside, he could remember seeing it left on his seat next to Hazel’s. Next to Hazel’s? She hadn’t taken her jacket either?
Hands curling into pre-emptive fists, Blake raced around the side of the building, using the train station and the crossroads as a navigation point. The streets outside World’s End were empty so he kept running down the side road, flashing past a bank and a row of tumbledown houses, until he saw the mouth of an alleyway. It was dark, the district council not wanting to waste electricity by lighting such a nondescript strip of street, but he thought he caught a flicker of movement in the shadows and that was enough to investigate.
Blake plunged into the darkness without slowing. He heard a gasp and a low murmur from the other end of the alleyway and endeavoured to speed up, if just to find out what stupid, insignificant event was happening so that he could stop his heart from pounding so fast that it hurt. With an angry cry, he tripped over the corner of a wheelie-bin that was invisible in the shadows and went flying headfirst towards the ground. Pain exploded in his head as he landed, cheek scraping across the broken and dirty floor. He could feel shards of glass cutting into his bare arms and suspected one knee was bleeding.
“Blake?”
A woman. He hadn’t heard her speak enough to be sure just from her voice but once he had clambered back to his feet he could just see Hazel watching him, her face illuminated by a gas lighter held in one hand. A lighter, but no cigarette. He wondered if she even smoked.
“Are you-“
“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped, spitting blood from a split lip. “It’s not safe for...”
That was when he noticed the pills. A whole bottle of them, brown glass and a tiny printed label that meant prescription. It balanced in her other hand, held out in front of her as if she had been contemplating them. The lid was missing, as were half the pills. Noticing him looking, she took a step back into the shadows.
Which came to life.
Blake had just enough time to dive backwards as sharp metal flashed towards him in a flurry of black feathers.
“If I can interrupt...”
Phoenix tore himself away from the girl for a moment, expecting some cleaner or hopeful who wanted attention.
His mind was hazy with lust and the gin he was able to drink when he wouldn’t be kissing Blake in the near future and so it took him a few moments to recognise who was talking to him.
“It’s not that I’m calling you bad friends,” the green-eyed man said with a small smile. “And it’s not that I want to ruin your fun. It’s just that there’s something I need to show you. Not you.” He pointed a finger towards Claire, who was climbing out of Phoenix’s lap, and then gestured towards the redhead. “You.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Why should I-“
“You want to know more about the world you’re part of, correct?”
“How do you-“
“Then follow me. Quickly please.”
The bin lid was a useless shield and shattered in Blake’s hands. He twisted to the side, finally catching a good look at the weapon that seemed intent on taking his life. An elegant katana, black from the hilt to the tip, was now slicing sideways towards him. As he ducked, hearing the metal slash too easily into the bricks, it seemed a shame that such a good weapon was being wasted on him in a place like this.
Hazel had backed away, further into the alley, but hadn’t run. She was watching the onslaught with the wide and horrified eyes of someone who had nothing to fear except the fear itself. Blake would have tried to comfort her, or at least to knock the damn pills away from her, if he hadn’t been fighting for his life.
It should have been easier to avoid the blows. In the years since moving to London, he’d had no need to practice.
He rolled forwards, aimed at the shadowy attackers legs, and cried out as the sword sliced into the back of one arm. The creature fell back onto the alley floor and Blake got a glimpse of pale skin and eyes that were all pupil before a foot was pushed into his chest and he was sent sprawling. He lay still and fought off the hollow feeling that came from having his breath knocked away from him.
“Curious little parasite,” the creature hissed in a man’s voice, rising back to its feet and walking forwards with cold purpose. “You have just brought months of work to nothing. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
His eyes now having adjusted a little to the darkness, Blake looked beyond the man to see that Hazel had vanished, probably up the spindly fire escape that run along one building. He hoped so. If she hadn’t cared enough to run far and was going to kill herself anyway, Blake was going to die for no reason whatsoever.
“It’s only fair that I have something to take back,” the creature continued, katana now pointing directly at Blake’s chest. The long wings rustled as he walked, the lower feathers glinting green as if they had been dipped in oil. Blake struggled for breath, if only so he could curse the nephilim assholes to hell and back again, but could only fix the creature with a livid yellow stare.
The sword moved, now pointing towards Blake’s throat.
“I have heard cutting out your heart will do nothing whatsoever,” he continued. “I’d be interested to see if you can still regenerate without a head.”
Phoenix dived into the alleyway, leaving the blonde man far behind. He hadn’t understood what he had been told other than the words leech and dying which had been enough to make running seem necessary. The alley flared into life, the beam of a high-powered torch coming from behind him.
He paused for a second as his mind processed what he was seeing. Blake, sprawled on the floor and covered in blood. Standing over him, an Asian man who was far too pale with eyes as black as tar and wings that filled the alley from wall to wall. There was a rustle of movement from behind him and Phoenix turned with wide eyes, one hand raised in hesitant defence.
His vision went black as something heavy collided with his skull and he sank to the ground beside Blake. A grey feather spiralled through the air and landed in the blood spilling from Blake’s arm.
“You’ll thank me later,” the blonde nephilim whispered.
Judging from the echoes bouncing off of the stone walls, the cell was part of a long row in an empty room. Other than the dirty light that flickered through the bars from a line of guttering candles it was dark as night although according to Phoenix’s watch it should have been daylight by now. He had been staring at his watch almost constantly since he had come to and was doing the same now, following the hands as they crept around for the third time.
He dragged his eyes away and pressed a hand to his temple. His head was aching like nothing he had never experienced since he was suffering both an acute hangover and the effects of being struck with a heavy electric torch. He glanced towards Blake, who was sprawled face down on the floor of the cell next to him. After a moment’s thought, he stretched out a leg and kicked the leech in the ribs. There had been no response the last four times he had tried but it made him feel a little better.
“Fuck’n hell.”
The leech rolled onto his back and Phoenix got a good look at the state his friend was in for the first time. Phoenix had no idea what had been happening in the alleyway before he had arrived but he could see it hadn’t been pleasant. Blood had soaked through the deep green of his shirt, the left sleeve missing from where it had been ripped by something sharp. The shirt was torn in several other places and tiny splinters of glass clung to the material along with dirt from the floor.
“What the fuck’re you starin’ at?”
“Your face.”
A slow blink. “You’ve never found it that interesting before.”
After a long moment of silence, Phoenix flung his hands up in a helpless gesture and raised his voice.
“How can you have bled that much but look fine? Jesus Christ, you’ve been out cold for at least five hours and you’re not even bruised.”
“Uh, hello?” Blake dragged himself up and onto his knees. “How long have you known me? You should be used to this by now.”
“But...”
The leech coughed and clawed at his throat.
“The fucker strangled me.”
“What?”
Phoenix watched as Blake lowered his hands again, now holding a dark strip of twisted cloth. The skin it had been wrapped around was unmarked. He leant forwards over his knees and slowly straightened it out, expression changing subtly from anger to disappointment.
“Vindictive bastard.”
“Why?” Phoenix asked, trying and failing to raise his voice above a sort of horrified murmur.
Blake tossed the material towards the redhead. After holding it for only a second, he dropped it with a hastily smothered yelp. The material was dark green where it wasn’t stained black with blood. One end was ragged while the other ended in two small plastic buttons.
“I loved that shirt,” Blake said mournfully. “I only bought the fucking thing a last week.”
“Isn’t there something else you should be angry about?” Phoenix asked. “Who was he and why the hell did he try and strangle you?”
“If you’d listened to me a few weeks ago, you’d...” His words died on his lips as he turned and looked towards the redhead at last. “Fucking hell, Phoe. What did they do to you?”
He was leaning up against the cell wall, knees drawn up to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs. The candlelight not fooling Blake with his superior night-vision, he could see that Phoenix was unnaturally pale, his eyes wide and nervous. From under his scarlet hair trailed a line of dried blood.
“I’m fine,” he lied. “They just knocked me out. What about-“
“Forget about what they did to me, okay? Only the shirt is ruined. Excuse me for sounding melodramatic, but I’m used to this shit. Now.”He moved towards Phoenix, crawling along on his hands and knees and eyes obviously glowing amber.
“Are you okay, Phoenix?” He spoke slowly and carefully, as if speaking to a child.
“I...”
Phoenix lowered his eyes and stared unseeing at the floor. For once, his expression was void of any hint of amusement or cunning. He looked younger, somehow, a child dressed in his older brother’s clothes. Blake thought about reaching out to comfort him but decided against it. He’d never seen the incubus like this and didn’t know how he would react. After Phoenix had watched the second hand on his watch make another complete revolution, he looked back up.
“I’m scared,” he said. “Aren’t you?”
Blake glanced around, taking in the iron bars and the candlelight. He shrugged.
“How?” Phoenix asked, shuffling along the floor until he had retreated into one corner, away from the leech.
“Because we’re alive,” Blake said simply, watching Phoenix move with helpless eyes. “That dude, the arrogant blonde one, he stopped the other fucker from killing us. Said something about ‘policy’ or some shit like that. So-“
“You mean from killing me.”
“What?”
“He strangled you, didn’t he? That would have killed me. But you...”
Blake had to lower his eyes. The fear and confusion that was being directed towards him this time was more than he could bear.
“Yeah. Say whatever you like about it, Phoe. It’s not like I won’t have thought it before. Do you think it’s easy being such a freak?”
“Blake...”
“But look at it this way. Are you more scared of me or of this place? Do you think I could kill you?”
“Well, yes.” A voice echoed down the corridor and reverberated around the cell.
There was a loud metal clang and they looked over to see the blonde nephilim rapping his fingers against the bars, a rusted ring on one finger making the noise. Anyone would now be able to tell he wasn’t human. A pair of large feathered wings covered his back, the feathers fading from grey to black at the tip.
“He could kill you,” the man said with a half-smile. “He’s certainly strong enough to. What,” he said, catching Phoenix’s expression, “hasn’t he told you that yet?”
Carefully not looking at Blake, Phoenix scrambled to his feet and approached the bars.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Blake hissed from his position on the floor.
“No,” Phoenix said loudly, wrapping his fingers around the bars and returning the nephilim’s green gaze with equal intensity. “He hasn’t really told me anything. Not in months and months.”
“What would you like to know?” the nephilim asked. Standing this close, Phoenix could see a dark line running around the man’s throat, much like the strip of sleeve had been wrapped around Blake’s before.
“Everything,” Phoenix said breathlessly. “I think I deserve some explanation now, don’t I?”
“Indeed.” The nephilim glanced towards Blake who had fallen silent. “Indeed you do. But first, how about I let you two out of here?”
“We can go free?”
“You can, yes. You’re not meant to but it is possible. You just have to trust me.”
Blake staggered to his feet and virtually threw himself at the bars, lips twisted into a scowl.
“Trust a nephilim?” the leech spat. “You really think we’re that fucking stupid? You’re the one that brought us here.”
“Yes, I am. If I hadn’t, my colleague would have killed you both in the alleyway and you would currently be a nuisance to the police. I saved you, whether you want to believe it or not. I’d like to do so again.”
“Why?”
With a smile, the man unlocked the cell door and stepped inside, locking it neatly after himself. Phoenix had to press an arm against Blake’s chest to stop the leech from flinging himself at the man.
“I’ll explain once you’re safely back in London,” he said softly. “And answer any other questions you might have, to the best of my ability.”
“Oh come on, as if-“
“Okay.”
Blake turned incredulous eyes upon Phoenix as the redhead nodded, pale skin stained with dirt and blood. The nephilim nodded.
“I’m going to have to ask you to close your eyes.”
“Sure.”
“But-“
As Phoenix closed his eyes, Blake was forced to stop speaking. His mouth was dry suddenly and he realised he had been biting his lip in frustration, the skin now raw and bloodied. The determination in the redhead’s eyes had been frightening. As a race, the nephilim knew far too much. Blake had seen them, back in New York. They’d watched what was being done to him and his siblings and had done nothing to stop it.
Phoenix could never find out about that. The very idea made the leech sick to his stomach.
“And you?”
He looked up into green eyes that carried the patience of centuries and knew he had no choice.
“What’s your name?” Blake asked. “I need to know in case you screw us over and I have to track you down.”
“Wise,” the man smiled. “You can call me Kay.”
“Is that your name?”
“More or less.”
“I want your real name.”
A pause during which the smile flickered and then a slow nod. “All right. My name is Kari. Not many people know that.”
“Am I meant to feel honoured?”
“Not at all.”
“Fine.” Blake closed his eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”
The air began to feel cold, a breeze apparently springing out of the walls and blowing towards Kari. It had been a long time since Blake had been truly frightened but he felt nervous now. Blood and violence he knew how to cope with, this sort of experience was alien to him. As the cold became painful, he reached out blindly and caught hold of Phoenix’s hand, not caring anymore how it might be perceived. If Kari was going to frighten the incubus off anyway, this small gesture would ultimately mean nothing.
“Thank you,” Phoenix said clearly, speaking loud to be heard over the wind. He squeezed Blake’s fingers and laced them together with his own as the world faded into a screaming, frozen fog and cold hands pushed them forwards. Kari spoke to them as he followed, voice laced with amusement.
“Hold your breath.”