Blood and Feathers (11 page)

“Is he...?”

“An Earthbound? Yeah, he is. He’s kind of a gambler, starts fights, that sort of thing. He and Mallory have this running...
issue
.” He put a strange emphasis on the last word, and wrinkled his nose.

Alice shook her head. “I was going to ask if he’s alright. He’s not moving much.”

“Ah, gotcha. He’ll be fine. Before he got sent down here, he was one of the angelic guard. They’re the grunts: heavy lifting, minor intimidation, a bit of standing around looking pretty... you know. I wouldn’t worry about him. It’s not the first time he’s got his nose broken.” He caught her eye. “Seriously, he’ll be fine. Mallory packs one cracker of a pistolwhip.”

“About that...”

“Never try to cheat Mallory at cards. Not cool.”

“That’s all he was doing? And Mallory did...
that?
” Alice pointed to the splattered blood on the floor.

Vin laughed. “That’s not all he was doing, but I’m not sticking my face into that mess. But the cheating thing, he was doing that for sure. Roped in Sari over there to help him.” He gestured to a woman standing near the door, and Alice recognised her as the woman Vin had been talking to outside.

“You know her?”

“Saritiel? Sure I know her. We’re the same choir: Barakiel. Thing is, her gift is more straightforward than mine. If I told you Barakiel’s very handy round the card table...”

“He’s lucky?”

“Something like that. You want luck, it pays to have him on your side. Saritiel’s plugged right into it, so you can imagine how Mallory reacted when he realised what was going on.”

“How’d he know?”

“How’d he know? I told him, that’s how. And then I took Sari outside for a quiet word. It’s against the rules, pulling a stunt like that.”

“I wasn’t sure there were any rules.”

“You want to get back where you came from, sure, there are rules. Some are more easily bent than others. But those weren’t the kind of rules I meant: I’m talking about the Halfway House rules. Even so, Mallory’s in for a whooping for that mess.”

Through the door at the top of the stairs they reached a narrow landing, barely light enough to see the end. Alice could just make out several doors leading off either side of the corridor.

“Wait,” she said, catching at Vin’s arm.

He stopped and looked at her. “What?”

“You said you and Saritiel are from the same choir?”

“And?”

“But I thought the choirs were all supposed to be connected. So if she’s lucky, how come you turn the Fallen to stone?”

“You wait till you meet one of them in a dark alley.
Then
tell me it’s not lucky.” He pointed at one of the doors ahead in the gloom. “They’re in there.”

T
HE DOOR OPENED
into a dingy little office with a sticky floor. Directly ahead of them, Mallory was sitting on the desk, swinging his feet. He smiled at Vin as they entered. Then his face clouded when he saw Alice.

“You’re not supposed to be here. How did you find us? No, never mind. I may be daft, but I’m not daft enough to expect you to answer.” He glanced over his shoulder, then back to them. “Meet Mickey,” he said, gesturing to someone behind the desk. “This little toerag’s about to lose his licence.”

He picked up a sheaf of papers from the desk and dropped them on the floor. Alice peered down at them: there were pages of notes in that curving scrawl of Mallory’s, and a handful of grainy black-and-white photos, all of the same man. She picked one up and looked at it. He was handsome, there was no denying that. Cropped dark hair and dark-ringed eyes; a black coat with the sleeves pushed up carelessly, tight black jeans tucked into expensive-looking boots. The photos had been taken outside the bar; she could just make out the swingboard in the corner of the picture.

“Look closer,” Vin hissed in her ear, and tapped his wrist.

She turned back to the photo, and saw it: around his left wrist there was an unmistakable white band, bright enough to show up even in the surveillance photos. She dropped the picture. He was one of the Fallen.

She looked up to see Mallory watching her, his eyebrows raised. Then he winked, and swivelled around on the desk so he was facing the other man. “You know how we feel about the Fallen. So what I want to know is, why have you been letting one of them come and go as he damn well pleases?”

“It’s not like that...” The man’s voice was thin and reedy. He sounded petrified.

Mallory scooted closer to him. “It’s not? Really? Then how about you go ahead and tell me how it is, Mickey. Because I’m all ears.”

“He came... He said he was looking for something...”

“Aren’t we all, Mickey? Aren’t we all?” Mallory’s voice rang with sarcasm, but it was lost on the terrified landlord, who shook his head feebly.

“Not something. Someone. He was looking for someone.”

“Oh?”

“Said it would be a half-born. Newly woken. Said there were ‘interested parties.’ That it would be worth my while, and that if I didn’t help them, they’d, well...”

“That they’d what? Rip you open and hang you by your own intestines?”

“That was about the gist of it, yes.” His voice faded to a whimper, and Mallory growled.

“That’s the Fallen all over for you. About as imaginative as mud. Always with the ripping and the hanging.”

He half-turned towards Alice and Vin, but was distracted by Mickey, who had lunged for the desk and was rummaging around in a drawer. Mallory kicked his hand away, but not soon enough, and a sharp, loud bang echoed round the room. Alice’s ears rang and she shook her head to clear them, reaching out for Vin’s shoulder to support herself. As soon as she touched him, however, he leapt away, throwing her off balance and tipping her onto the floor. She looked up... and suddenly saw why he had jerked away. The shoulder of his jacket was scorched, smoking; he was staring at her with wide eyes – almost as wide as those of the landlord.

Alice’s hand was burning. The fire coiled around her fingers and spun about her wrist. Just like the last time, she couldn’t feel any heat or pain, only a mild tingling, like pins and needles in the very tips of her fingers. Not that that had stopped Vin’s jacket from catching fire where she had touched it. She stared at her hand. Vin stared at her hand. Mickey the landlord stared at her hand and muttered a few choice words under his breath... and from the other side of the desk, Mallory groaned and stood up, shaking out his wings. The sound of moving feathers pulled Alice back to herself, clearing her head in a moment. The fire faded and she rubbed her palms together briskly, scrabbling her feet against the floor as she stood up. Mallory was staring at Mickey, his hand pressed tightly against his shoulder. Blood seeped down the front of his jacket.

“Ouch,” he said. “That hurt.” He pulled his hand away and looked down at it crossly, wiping it on his jeans. “I don’t like getting shot. Frankly, it pisses me off.” His wings stretched further out from his back as he leaned over Mickey, clamping his hands down over the arms of the chair and pinning him in place. “And you probably don’t want to piss me off...”

“Mallory.” Gwyn’s voice made them all jump – no-one more than Mickey, whose look of terror became one of abject despair when he spotted the blond angel in the doorway.

Mallory let go of the chair and backed away. Gwyn stepped into the office, and gave Alice a dirty look. “You, I thought I locked in. You need to learn to do as you are told, Alice.” He turned to Mallory. “The Fallen have been here, alright. The storeroom reeks of them. More than one, and I’d say there was one of the Twelve. Which means you,” he said, pointing to Mickey, “have some explaining to do.”

“I told him already. There was one. He came by, said he was...”

“Yes, yes. I’m not interested in Rimmon. Him, we know about.” Gwyn waved towards the photographs on the floor. “I want to know who else paid you a visit.”

“There was just him, I swear it!” His voice sounded increasingly desperate.

Gwyn sighed. “Be careful what you say next, little man. Don’t forget who you’re dealing with.”

As he spoke, his wings snapped open, sparks hopping from feather to feather and across his fingertips. His eyes shone in the gloom and even Vin was edging away, obviously preferring to stand next to Alice and risk being set on fire again over getting too close to Gwyn.

The man in the chair looked suitably cowed, but before he could say anything, Mallory sighed. “I’ve had enough of this,” he muttered, and without another word, he folded his wings and stormed past them, out of the room.

“I swear I don’t know anything! On my soul!” Mickey called after him.

Gwyn narrowed his eyes. “I’ll remember that.” Like Mallory, he closed his wings and – with one last look – left the room. Alice and Vin exchanged glances and followed, pausing only for Alice to pick up one of the photographs from the floor. The same instinct she’d followed earlier told her that it might be worth hanging onto. She closed the door on the quiet sobbing coming from the office.

As she reached the foot of the staircase, she saw Mallory lope over to the angel he had beaten earlier, now hunched over a chair.

“Come here, you old fraud,” he said, and tipped Drial’s head back, placing his other hand on his forehead. He held him there for a moment, then with an awful cracking sound, Mallory’s nose began to bleed. “You know, you don’t deserve me,” he said, dropping his hands and moving on, limping a little as he headed for the door.

Alice’s fingers began to tingle, ever so gently, and she stuffed her hands into her pockets. She was beginning to see a pattern. Mallory shouldered his way through the crowd that had gathered around Drial and pushed through the door into the dark, ducking into an alley beside the bar.

It was raining; a light, misting drizzle. But, just as before, Mallory wasn’t getting wet. Not even a little bit. It was as though the rain simply went
around
him. Just like it was doing to her.

Outside, Vin grinned at her. Mallory rolled his eyes and sniffed, rubbing at his nose. Gwyn was watching her, tapping his knuckles against his teeth.

“Vhnori?” he said.

Vin looked round. “What?”

“I’m going to ask you to do something a little... unorthodox.”

“Okay...?”

“I’d like you to hit Mallory, please.”

“For real?”

“Now, if you don’t mind.”

Mallory looked over at him. “
What?
Hit me? What for?”

“Humour me,” Gwyn said and waved Vhnori on. Vin shrugged and stepped in front of Mallory, who folded his arms. “Don’t you even think...” He was cut off by Vin’s fist connecting with his jaw.

“
Ow.
Also, you punch like a girl.”

“Eyes on Alice, please,” Gwyn said, staring at her. “Alice? Take your hands out of your pockets. Your jacket is smoking.”

Alice looked down. A wisp of smoke curled up from her pockets. She slowly drew out her hands, and warm light bounced off the alley walls. “It’s not my jacket. It’s
me
.” Despite his rapidly swelling jaw, Mallory’s mouth dropped open. Vin simply looked uncomfortable – although that may have been more down to the fact he was cradling his hand; Mallory obviously had a harder head than he was expecting. Gwyn was still watching as Alice held her hands out, as far away from her body as she could. She was, after a fashion, getting used to the whole fire thing, but that didn’t mean she liked it. And then she could have sworn she saw him smile, and quicker than she could follow, Gwyn had knocked Vin off his feet with a sudden blow to his ribs. Vin groaned and rolled on the ground. Mallory smirked, but not for long. Gwyn turned to him and simply said: “I think he could use a little help, don’t you?”

The smile faded from Mallory’s face. “You what?”

“He has a broken rib, at the very least. I don’t think you can leave him like that, do you?”

“How the... what the... why...” Mallory couldn’t quite make it to the end of any of the sentences he started, but after a minute or two, his shoulders sagged. “How the fuck is that fair?” he said, finally. Even so, he knelt down next to Vin and, swearing under his breath, he placed his hands on the groaning angel’s chest.

This time, it was immediate. The fire flared at Alice’s fingertips, running up and down her arms, skimming her throat. She stood as still as she could, afraid even to breathe. Gwyn nodded. “You don’t need to be afraid of it, Alice. It won’t hurt you. It can’t.”

“That would be a lot more reassuring if I wasn’t
on fire
right now.”

She pressed herself against the wall, trying to edge back from the flames. The raindrops – which were going to such lengths to avoid falling on her – hissed and spat as they fell into the fire. Mallory pulled his hands away from Vin, muttering as Vin helped him up. The fire susbsided; the flames were gone.

Alice stared at Gwyn. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

“I don’t suppose you’d like to fill me in on what the hell that was all about, would you? You know, seeing as I’m the one who seems to turn into the human torch every time someone socks Mallory...”

“What?” Mallory was leaning on the opposite wall. “What have I got to do with it?”