Blood and Feathers (6 page)

“It’s not that bad.”

“If you say so. Besides, you’re right. She needs to rest.” He turned to Alice. “Sleep. While you have the chance.”

As he laid a hand on the doorknob, he looked back at them. “Keep her safe, Mallory.” He made a small gesture with his fingers – something that was too quick for Alice to follow – and stepped through the door, closing it behind him.

Her body suddenly ached, and she shivered. “It’s because he’s gone,” said Mallory from somewhere behind her. “He’s so bloody sanctimonious, it’s easy to forget he is what he is. But being around a Descended, it makes humans feel... well,
better
. Everything you should have felt – everything since we came – it’s all still there. You still felt it, but you didn’t know it, not with him around. He protected you. And now he’s not here... It’s just shock. A good sleep and you’ll be fine.” He leaned over the back of the sofa and handed her a blanket and a slightly battered cushion. “Not much, but it’s the best I can do.”

She took them, grateful that they smelled a little better than the rest of the room. “What about you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t sleep much. Don’t need to. Besides, there’s always the floor. I’ve slept in worse places, believe you me.”

Mallory’s voice was getting fuzzy, his words muffled and slow. Or maybe that was just her head...? There was something – something she needed to ask. Perhaps if she just rested her eyes for a minute, she could...

Alice was asleep before her head touched the cushion.

W
HEN
A
LICE OPENED
her eyes, she felt warm. Sunlight was streaming in through a small, dirty window, puddling on the floor beside her. And despite the sofa being one of the most uncomfortable things she had ever tried to sleep on, she felt like she had slept long and deeply. She couldn’t
quite
remember why she was there – not at first, not until the memory of yesterday hit her like a cold wave. Her throat knotted. Her father was dead, her home was gone and she was on the run. With two angels.

Of course.

Sitting up, she looked around for Mallory. There was no sign of him, and it wasn’t like there were many places he could be.

In the daylight, the room didn’t seem quite so bleak. It was pretty untidy, and the smell was – unfortunately – still there, but it could have been worse. The room wasn’t exactly large, either. There was space enough for the sofa and a table in the middle, several ancient, lopsided cupboards and an even more ancient sink against the walls, and that was about it. Two windows, both small and high up – one glazed with small diamond-shaped panes, and one so encrusted with moss and leaves that no light at all made it through. Two doors: one, the door that they had come in through last night and the other, ajar and leading to what looked like a bathroom. Based on the state of the rest of the place, Alice didn’t even want to think about the bathroom. She decided she would cross that particular bridge only when strictly necessary.

Books were piled everywhere, great teetering stacks of them. Some of the piles had given way, scattering pages and papers across the floor. Judging by the dirty bootprints across some of them, they’d been that way for a while. She leaned forward and picked up a handful of sheets from the rug, and was surprised to see they weren’t in English. Latin, mostly, and some Greek, and, covering pages and pages, a strange, looping handwritten script that she had never seen before.

“See anything interesting?” Mallory’s voice came from somewhere behind her ear and, startled, Alice dropped the papers. Mallory hopped over the back of the sofa, landing on the seat beside her and setting more dust free. Alice coughed, and tried to wave it away. “Sorry about that,” he muttered and held out a large polystyrene cup. “Coffee?”

“Thanks.” She took the cup, not about to tell him that, actually, she didn’t really drink coffee. “What’s that?” She pointed at the papers that had fallen at her feet. Mallory gave them a shove with his heel. “None of your business. Those are my notes.”

“Notes? You mean that’s your handwriting? I’ve never seen anything like that before. It’s not shorthand; what kind of language is it?”

“Mine,” he said, tersely. “Drink your coffee.” He balanced his own cup on his knee, lifting the plastic lid with one hand and unscrewing the cap of his little flask with the other, pouring a generous amount of its contents into the cup. He paused, then upended the flask over his coffee, emptying it altogether. “So.”

“So.” Alice took a sip of her drink. It was hot and sour. She forced herself to swallow. “What time is it?”

“About ten. You seemed pretty out of it, so I thought I’d get some supplies. I, uh, don’t keep much in.” He gestured to the bags sitting by the door.

“Oh. And you live here? All the time?”

“Yes, I live here. What’s your point?”

“It’s just... Nothing.”

“You’re as bad as Gwyn, you know that? Look, I don’t expect you to understand. I was lucky to find this. Do you know how many churches have an extra sacristy just sitting there?”

“Why don’t you live in a house or a flat or something, you know, normal?” As soon as she said it, she knew it was a mistake. Mallory looked wounded.

“Because this is the only place that feels like home,” he said quietly, and downed the rest of his coffee. “Right,” he said after a moment, his tone suddenly brighter as he lobbed the empty cup into the sink. “Let’s talk about you, shall we?”

“Me. Yeah, great.” Alice’s heart sank.

“Well, we certainly aren’t going to spend the morning talking about me. I’m boring. Really, really boring.”

“What about Gwyn?”

“Nope. Not only is he even
more
boring, he’d kill me. And I might not have that great a life at the moment, but I’d quite like to hang onto it, if it’s all the same to you.”

“What about my mother?”

“Your mother? Ah. Now there’s something we
can
talk about. At least until Gwyn gets here and starts ordering us both around, which I’m afraid is inevitable.” He sat down again, this time on the floor beside the sofa. “Your mother was... she was kind. I know. It’s a ridiculous thing to say, isn’t it? That she was kind. But she was. Kind, and warm.” He looked up at Alice, meeting her eyes again. “Not all angels are, you see. I imagine you think you know a lot about us, one way and another, but you don’t. Angels are vengeful, or ferocious, or sometimes downright psychotic. Soldiers, remember? So not all that often are we kind. She was, though. She could see the truth in things.”

“Was she like you?”

“Like me?” Mallory flinched slightly, then shook his head. “I see what you mean. No. I can’t ever imagine her being an Earthbound.” There was something missing in his last sentence – Alice could see it in his face. He was saying more than he was telling her, and that was the question she had wanted to ask last night, the question she had forgotten as she drifted. Why were they lying to her?

The knock at the door made them both jump. Alice disentangled her legs from the blanket and stood up. Her feet were sore and her knees shook slightly, but all in all she could have been worse off – especially given the woodlouse that was inching its way across the cushion she had slept on. Oblivious to her close encounter, Mallory was at the door, his palm pressed flat against the wood and a look of concentration on his face. It soon dissolved into a smile and he threw the door open, his arms wide.

The man on the other side was considerably shorter than Mallory. He was younger, too. He pushed a pair of sunglasses up on top of his head and threw an arm around Mallory’s shoulder, speaking in a language that sounded familiar, but which Alice could not understand. Mallory cleared his throat and looked back at her. “Sorry. Cantonese. Vin spends most of his time in Hong Kong.”

“This her?” The newcomer switched to English, pointing at Alice as he stepped into the room. “Excellent. Pleased to meet you, Alice. I’m Vin.” He held out a hand.

“So which kind are you?” Alice shook his hand, and he grinned.

“Gets straight to the point, doesn’t she? I like her,” he said over his shoulder to Mallory. Turning back to Alice, he pocketed his sunglasses. “You want to know? Why don’t you tell me?”

Alice looked him up and down. His jeans were frayed at the hems, trodden down under the heels of his trainers, and his jacket was faded. She pursed her lips. “You’re an Earthbound, aren’t you?”

He smiled back at her. “Got it in one. He was right, you’re just like her. The eyes. So tell me, if you’re so good at seeing things: is there anywhere in this dump that’s safe to sit?”

“Not you as well,” Mallory muttered from somewhere near the sink, where he was unpacking his shopping bags. He seemed to have bought a lot of bread, and even more teabags, and little else. “Alice spent the night on the sofa and appears to have survived. Although a
gentleman
should never sit while a lady is standing.”

“Mallory,” said Vin, sitting on the sofa and putting his feet up on the table, “You know perfectly well that I have
never
claimed to be a gentleman.” He beamed at Alice and patted the seat next to him. “Go on. My arse isn’t that big. And I don’t bite. Well, not hard.”

Alice suddenly couldn’t help herself. She laughed. “I’m fine, thanks. And what kind of name is Vin, for an angel?”

“Couldn’t very well go around calling myself Vhnori on Earth now, could I? Doesn’t exactly blend in. So people call me Vin.”

“And by people, you mean...” Alice realised he was smirking at her again, and changed the subject. “So what’s Mallory’s real name?”

“Mallory.” The answer came from under the sink. “Just plain, unambitious Mallory. Told you I was boring.” He stood up and rubbed his hands together. “Alice, Vin is a friend of mine. You can trust him as you would me. When Gwyn told me we had...”

“Don’t tell me he’s around?” Vin cut across Mallory’s words. It was becoming clear that Gwyn was not terribly popular among the other angels, or at least, not among the angels she had met. This didn’t really surprise Alice. Mallory snorted. “Don’t be an idiot, Vin. Of course he’s around. You don’t think he’d rely on me to take care of her all on my own now, do you?”

“D’you think he ever gets tired of being a babysitter?” Vin asked, ducking to avoid the smack that Mallory aimed at the back of his head.

Alice stared at them both with wide eyes. She could still hear Mallory’s voice in her head telling her that angels weren’t exactly the most pleasant of characters, and yet these two seemed to be the opposite of everything he had described. As one, they turned to stare straight back at her, and she felt her cheeks flush. “I know what you’re thinking, Alice,” Mallory said quietly. “But you have to ask yourself why we’re down here. Gwyn’s a Descended, and we’re both Earthbound. Remember that.”

“Give the girl a break, Mallory. You’re always so serious – lighten up! Besides, I brought you a present.”

“Did you?”

“I was a couple of streets away when I picked her up.”

“Picked
who
up?” Mallory’s hand crept to the back of his belt. Suddenly, Alice wasn’t sure she liked the way their conversation was going, but, again, it was almost like Mallory could read her mind. “It’s alright, Alice. I’ve been expecting it. It’s one of the Fallen. They were bound to try their luck sooner or later.”

“I thought you said it was safe here?”

“I did. It is. But that’s not to say it’ll stop them from trying.”

“And out there, it’s one of the Twelve?”

Vin was on his feet. “The Twelve? The
Twelve?
You failed to mention the Twelve were loose. Slip your mind, did it?”

“Oh, stop whining. If it was one of the Twelve who followed you, you wouldn’t be standing there getting lippy with me. ‘Her,’ you say? Who is it? Lilith?”

“The one and only. Haven’t seen her for a while, and let me tell you: time has
not
been kind.”

“Where’d you leave her?”

“In the churchyard, round the back. She’s not going anywhere.”

“In that case” – Mallory gestured to the door – “I’ll meet you there.”

Vin nodded, looking first at Mallory and then at Alice, and with a smile that was just a little less bright than the one he’d flashed when he walked in, he ducked out through the door. Mallory pulled out his flask, shook it and, remembering it was empty, picked up a bottle from the floor. He refilled it carefully, taking a swig and then topping it up again before pocketing it. Alice raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I don’t. And nor do you.”

“It’s one of the Fallen out there, right? The ones I’m supposed to be avoiding? So what do I do: sit here and wait until you deal with it?”

“Deal with
her
. Her name’s Lilith. They may be the Fallen, Alice, but they still have names. We used to know them, all of them. They’re not some faceless, formless enemy. Don’t forget that. The second you do, you underestimate them... and when you do that, you’re lost.”

“Cheery. I’ll wait here, then.”

“Here? Oh, no. You’re coming with me. Come and meet Lilith.”