Blood and Feathers (12 page)

“Precisely,” said Gwyn. “But Alice has worked it out, haven’t you?”

“The first time... It was when Mallory healed my head. His headache.”

“And then?”

“Upstairs.”

“When our charming little friend shot him. And again when he healed Drial, and now...” Gwyn spread his hands to indicate the alley.

Mallory stared at Alice. “Every time I feel pain.”

“I think so.” She nodded.

Mallory stared at her for a while longer, then laughed, throwing his head back. “Then you’re going to have to get used to it, because that happens a
lot
.”

Vin cleared his throat. “Why him, though? What’s so special about Mallory? No offence, mate, but, you know...”

“Think, Vhnori,” said Gwyn.

Vin pulled a face. “Stop calling me that. No-one calls me that. Except you.”

“Quite, Vhnori.”

Alice knew. “It’s my mother, isn’t it?”

“Bingo.” Gwyn nodded. “Seket was an empath. Raphael’s choir, which – of course – is why Mallory is here. You connect with his pain because you are both connected. It’s instinct: nothing more.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that given time, it won’t just be Mallory. It could be anyone. Earthbound, human, Descended... perhaps even Fallen.” He jumped forward and snatched up her hands, turning them over in his, examining them. “Don’t you see? If you can control it...”

“No.” She snatched her hands back. “No. I don’t want it.”

“What?”

“Take it back.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Take it back, you hear me?” She pushed past him, past Vin, to Mallory who sagged against the wall. “Take it back, please!” She held her hands out to him. “I don’t want it. I don’t. I can’t.”

She ran out of words. The rain drifted past her, around her, but the tears still ran down her face. Mallory glanced up at Gwyn, his face dark, then pulled Alice into his shoulder, wrapping his arm around her, smoothing her hair as she wept.

CHAPTER TEN

Gambler’s Ruin

T
HE BAR WAS
almost empty. This was good. He hadn’t been able to face the Halfway, not after seeing Alice in the alleyway, so he had simply walked into the first bar he had found in the other direction. Apart from the man at the corner table who was singing quietly to what was left of a pint of beer, Mallory was the only customer. Or at least, he had been...

“Hullo, Mallory.”

“You have until I count to ten to get out of my face. After that, you’ll be wearing your own backwards.”

“You’ve not lost your charm, have you?” The man from the photographs leaned against the bar next to Mallory, tapping his fingers in an irregular, irritating rhythm.

Mallory moved his glass away and started counting. “Ten. Nine. Eight...”

“Always in such a rush to throw the first punch. And when I’m here to do you a favour, too.” Rimmon made a tutting noise and wagged a finger at Mallory, as though he were admonishing a naughty child.

Mallory snorted. “The only way you’d be doing me a favour is if you go and f –”

“Mallory...” Rimmon cut him off, but Mallory didn’t care. He emptied his glass down his throat and gestured to the barman for a refill.

“I told you. Piss off. I’m busy.”

“Look, I’m not here to fight with you.”

“Shame.”

“You don’t like me. I get that.”

“Don’t like you? Rimmon, you’re lucky you’ve still got a head. I’ve not exactly had an easy evening, and you’ve featured in that already, by the way. So right now, I’m a poster boy for self-control. Whether or not I
like
you is irrelevant.”

“Alright. I get the message. You’re in one of those moods.”

“Stop talking like you know me. Could you just do that? That
one
thing?”

“But I do know you, Mallory. Remember?”

“Fuck off. Again.”

“I could make a deal for you. I like you. I always did, despite the circumstances.” Rimmon had clearly decided that charm was the way to go.

Mallory wasn’t in the mood for charm, “Really? You’ve got a funny way of showing it, joining up with the Fallen. Landing me down here. I can see how that translates as giving a shit.”

“And I feel bad about it, I do. So let me help you. They gave you, what, a hundred years? Two?”

“Five. Five hundred years as an Earthbound.”

“And for what? Losing a half-born?”

“Wouldn’t you just love that?” Mallory laughed. “You were only the start of a slippery, shit-covered slope that ended with Gabriel taking me to pieces. You just came under the heading ‘incompetence.’ My personal favourite,” he said, his voice hard, “was ‘questioning the status quo.’ Like that means anything.”

“You’d be rewarded for that with us. Promoted, not punished. Join us.”

“Yeah, it’s really working out well for you guys, isn’t it?” Mallory said, tapping his wrist.

Rimmon looked down at his brand. “A small price to pay for freedom.”

“Having Lucifer boot you out of your own head whenever he feels like taking a walk? That’s not freedom. I’ll serve my time, thanks.”

“This isn’t an offer I’ll make again, Mallory.”

“Frankly, I don’t give a shit.”

“Things are not what they seem. You think you know what you’re doing, what you’re getting into, but you don’t. You don’t even know the beginning of it.”

“And you’re warning me why, exactly? We’re on different sides now, or have you forgotten?”

Mallory knocked back another drink, and Rimmon sighed. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Sure it does.”

“Why?”

“Because this is how it is.”

“I could help, if you’d let me. If you’d ever let...”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

“Mallory, you don’t want me as your enemy. I don’t have to be.”

“You already are.”

Rimmon’s face clouded and he drew back slightly, straightening his back and pulling away from the bar. When he spoke again, his voice was chilly. “You won’t win. You can’t.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Doesn’t really matter.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because,” said Mallory, rolling his glass in his hand, “that’s the difference between you and me, Rimmon. I still have hope. What do
you
have?”

He looked down at the bar. When he looked back up, he was alone.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Hallowed Ground

“D
O YOU HEAR
that?”

Gwyn put out his arm to stop them. They were at the end of the road, a few hundred yards from Mallory’s church, when they heard it: a cracking sound. Very faint, but distinct in the quiet of the night. Alice held her breath, straining to pick it out, and Vin shuffled from foot to foot.

“I’ve not heard that sound in a while,” he said.

“No. I would advise that you and Alice take a walk in the other direction. I’ll handle this.”

Gwyn’s wings opened, shivering with electricity, and despite herself Alice hoped no-one was looking out of a window anywhere nearby. Her legs still felt shaky from earlier; from discovering that this spectacular new gift of hers that Gwyn was so enthused about came, ultimately, from other people’s pain. Not from something good, but from something bad. Very bad indeed.

Something inside her had broken in that alley, and she felt like she had cried for hours – leaning on Mallory with the rain pouring down around her. He had taken her by the shoulders and gently drawn her away.

“Alice, you’re who you always were. You’re still the same person. Nothing about you has changed. You just didn’t know all you were.”

“But I don’t want this! Why does it have to be me?”

“Because it’s who you are.” He had dropped his hands and stepped away – calling to Gwyn in that language they used with one another – and vanished into the darkness. All Gwyn would tell her was that Mallory needed to be alone.

And now they were here. In the dark. With the noises.

Vin looked over his shoulder, and cleared his throat. “You know what? I think we’ll be sticking with you.”

Alice followed his gaze down the road and saw three figures standing in the middle of the street, side by side; arms folded and watching their every move. First one, then another, then the third, unfurled tattered, jagged wings.

“I see,” said Gwyn, “Well, I imagine they’re back there for a reason. No doubt there’s someone we’re supposed to see up ahead. Let’s not keep him waiting.” He flapped his wings once and was airborne, rising above them.

Vin sniffed. “Show-off. Don’t worry,” he said, seeing the look on Alice’s face, “I won’t leave you.”

But his voice wasn’t quite as reassuring as he obviously intended it to be, and he glanced back at the three Fallen. “I think we’d better get a move on.”

They hurried through the church gate, and Alice slammed it behind them.

“What are you doing?” Vin asked, pulling at her arm. “You know it’s not going to make any difference to them? They’re
Fallen
. They really don’t give a crap about a gate.”

“I know, it just seems...” They peered through the gloom of the churchyard. The trees cast long, shifting shadows: just right for monsters to hide in. A dark shape loomed out at them and Alice caught her breath. Only to realise it was only a memorial statue. A real one, this time. A sound behind her made her jump, but it was only Vin’s wings, twitching in the breeze.

A deep chill washed over Alice, beginning in the pit of her stomach and spreading up through her chest and down into her arms. It felt like... fear.

But not hers.

She looked at Vin. She was feeling what
he
felt.

Still fighting to control herself, she thought back to what Gwyn had said in the alley: her mother was an empath. He had mentioned a name – Seket. Was that her mother’s true name? Really? She was an empath. Mallory was an empath, which was why she connected with him... but what if she was starting to connect with others now? Like Vin?

“Vin?”

“What?” His voice was little more than a whisper.

“Can you... I don’t know. Can you try and... man up a little, please?”

“You what now?”

“I can feel your fear.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Sorry.”

A shadow dropped, landing just behind them. Gwyn was back.

“There’s no way around this, I’m afraid,” said the Descended. He swayed slightly to avoid the swing a startled Vin took at him before realising who it was.

Vin staggered, then shook his head. “That? The sneaking up? Not cool.”

“Apologies. This way.” Gwyn pointed ahead of them, further into the shadows. Alice gulped back another cold rush of fear, unsure whether or not it was hers.

There was no sign of the Fallen, not that that meant anything. Alice got the feeling that they were being guided (and none too gently) towards someone, and she wondered whether that was the same someone – or some
thing
– behind those horrible cracking sounds. The ones that were getting louder. She hoped Gwyn knew what he was doing.