Bound (8 page)

The street outside Peacock’s shop was quiet in the wan autumn sunshine. Alex and Silhouette stood on cold cobbles, staring at the black painted door.

‘So what’s the plan?’ Silhouette peered up at Alex from under her fringe. She was only a couple of inches shorter than his six feet, yet she deliberately taunted him.

Her icy eyes teased him, had him imagining the parts of her he couldn’t see. ‘Not sure,’ he said. She did that half-smile thing again and Alex looked away. He needed to focus and she was playing with him. ‘I suppose,’ he said, ‘I’ll just walk in there and smash the fucker.’ He felt heat swell out from the book in his pocket. The pendant around his neck remained warm constantly, like a tiny hand lying against his skin.

‘You ever done anything like this before?’

He laughed. ‘Stroll into someone’s place and kill them in cold blood? Funnily enough, no. This’ll be a first for me.’

‘You seem quite collected, all things considered.’

He did feel calm. ‘It’s the right thing to do. I’m protecting myself and avenging Welby. The rules of my life have changed.’

‘You really need to avenge Welby?’

‘I thought you were all for a good revenge slaying?’

‘Oh, I am. I love a good killing. But it seems like you’re making some major changes here.’

Alex pursed his lips, thinking. ‘Yeah,’ he said eventually. ‘I’m taking control back.’

Silhouette seemed to accept that. ‘Fair enough. Can I offer some advice?’

‘Definitely.’

‘This place is wrapped in all kinds of magic which I’m guessing includes alarms and security. I suggest you don’t make a meal of this. Get in there, use your familiarity to get close and take him out quickly.’

‘Cold.’

‘But effective.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘Hesitation will kill you, Alex.’

He watched her for a moment. ‘Why are you helping me?’

‘Call it a weakness of character.’ She looked away. ‘That’s what my Clan would tell you.’

Alex turned back to the door, took a deep breath. ‘You coming in?’

‘No, I’ll make him suspicious. I’ll be right here. If things turn ugly, I’ll help if I can.’

Alex nodded and rapped on the door. After a moment he knocked on one glass panel of the window and called out, ‘Peacock, open up. It’s me.’ He felt reluctant to yell out his name. He wondered briefly about cameras but quickly put the thought out of his mind. He hadn’t seen any before in the shop and it seemed unlikely Peacock would have technology along with all the magical countermeasures he had in place. It wouldn’t hurt to check once inside, but the truth was he didn’t care. Something nagged at the back of his mind.
Why don’t I care?

The curtain at the back shifted and Peacock shuffled nervously into the shop. ‘What do you want?’ he called out, voice betraying his fear.

‘We need to talk, Peacock.’

‘Welby?’

Alex decided honesty was the best policy. ‘Dead. Thanks to you. Me too, nearly.’

‘Nearly? You faced my gargoyles?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I wondered why they weren’t back yet.’

Alex laughed without humour. ‘They aren’t coming.’

Peacock shook his head, eyes downcast. ‘Bloody hell.’ He looked up sharply. ‘You have any idea what it costs to bind gargoyles?’

Alex was stunned. With everything else happening this old fuck was complaining about cost? ‘You have any idea how little I care about that? Call it a fee for killing Welby.’

Peacock waved his hands. ‘Stop yelling that stuff in the street, boy! What’s wrong with you?’

Alex pounded on the window. ‘Open the fucking door then. We need to talk.’

Peacock retreated, shaking his head. ‘No. Not a chance. You’re not here to talk. You still have my book and I can’t get it back, can I? And you destroyed my gargoyles. I’m calling it quits right here. I fold. Go away.’

A red rage swelled up in Alex’s chest. The stone and book vibrated in harmony with each other, crying out for Peacock’s death. With a roar of fury Alex lifted his knee and hammered out a kick at the shop door, letting the power of the Darak flow through him. The door exploded in a shower of wood shards and splinters. He heard Silhouette gasp, out of sight somewhere beside him.

Peacock squealed like a child and hurried towards the curtain. Alex felt the wards popping up as the despicable little man ran, shadowy films of magic swelling into existence. He dropped his own shields completely, let his presence, his own magic, flood out. He opened his vision and saw every ward and drove his ’sign, his very will, into all the gaps between them. As he strode into the shop, Peacock’s shields flexed and burst, colours and shades popping and spinning away. Peacock cried out, diving through the curtain.

Alex ripped the curtain away in time to see Peacock stand up behind his desk, the malevolent anodised steel of a revolver rising up with him.

Alex watched the colours, calm, collected. He focused his rage and let it merge with the stone against his chest. He could see everything, every intent. Peacock began pumping the trigger of the pistol, the gunshots deafening in the enclosed space. Alex ducked and turned, moving more quickly than Peacock could adjust his aim. The little man managed to squeeze off four shots as Alex covered the space between the ruined curtain and the desk. He felt the heat of each shot passing, but knew none would touch him.

He slapped the gun aside. As Peacock whimpered, his mouth flapping almost silently, Alex put one palm behind the old man’s head. He raised his other hand and drove iron-hard fingers through Peacock’s eyes. The hot warmth of grey matter and blood burst over his hand and he stepped aside to avoid the gout of gore as he pulled his fingers free. Peacock slumped, his head bounced once off the corner of his desk with a sick crack, and he rolled to the floor on his back. Dark, thick blood and brains oozed from the black orifices where his eyes used to be.

Alex stood panting, rushing from the flood of power coursing through him. The exhilaration was orgasmic, firing neurons all over his body. He took long, strong breaths in through his nose, forcing himself to settle, drawing his shields back tight. He felt the book in his pocket, throbbing with thick waves of exultation, revelling in the death.

‘Well, fuck me.’

He turned and saw Silhouette standing in the doorway, hands on her hips. He’d done what he had said he would, removed the threat of Peacock from his life. And avenged Welby, for whatever that was worth.

Silhouette walked around him to look down at the corpse of Peacock. ‘That was quite impressive,’ she said, crouching. ‘The way you dodged and everything. I’m genuinely impressed here.’

‘I’m glad.’

‘No, seriously. Do you have any idea how hard it is to impress me?’

Alex concentrated on his breathing. The energy began to calm within him, settling back to a more normal level. He heard a slurping sound.

Silhouette crouched low over Peacock’s body, lapping at one ruined eye socket. Alex staggered back, horrified. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’

The blue of her eyes had given way to a swirling black, shining and infinite. Blood stained her lips. Even through his horror Alex was aroused by the sheer primal beauty of her. ‘I told you I had a history, Alex.’

‘As a fucking vampire?’

‘I’m not a vampire. Though some of us choose to live that way. I figured it was only fair to make sure you knew exactly who I was. Besides, I couldn’t resist this, still thick with the adrenaline of fear.’

Alex came up sharp against a wall behind him. He stared at Silhouette, his bile rising as she bent back over the corpse, drinking again. ‘What are you?’

She licked her lips. Alex wasn’t sure whether what she did or the fact that it turned him on disgusted him more. ‘I’m Kin, sweetheart.’

Alex ran from the bookshop and turned down the road. He had no idea where he was going. Away, simple as that. She drank Peacock’s blood, right out of the empty socket! He was shocked, but it perturbed him more that he wasn’t as horrified as he would have expected. And part of him remained strongly attracted to this creature, whatever she was. When would he get a chance to catch up? When would his world stop spinning over and over and let him take stock?

He turned out into a busy street, people bustling back and forth, consumed with the normality of their daily lives. Unaware of magi and blood-drinking women. Blissfully unaware of books that wanted to be owned and stones that made people powerful enough to explode a solid oak door with a single kick.

He struggled for breath as he grappled with everything flooding his mind. He’d killed a man. An arsehole, to be sure, but he had walked into that man’s space and murdered him, in cold blood. Worse, he’d enjoyed it. His hands shook, his knees were weak. The stone burned against his chest, its power coursing through him, almost as if it tried to console him. The book felt different, like it approved of the killing and tried to make Alex proud of it. It radiated dark glee. How could a book and a stone make him feel anything?

He bumped into a group of young punks gathered on a street corner, hair spiked and attitudes keenly tuned to disapproval.

One stumbled as Alex barged through. ‘Fucking watch it, ya cunt!’ the punk said, punctuating the sentence with a half-smoked cigarette.

Alex stopped dead, spun on one heel to stare the young man in the eye. ‘What did you say?’ His entire body trembled, engorged with power. ‘Come on, you fucking parrot. Give me one reason to rip that ridiculous hairstyle clean off your fucking scalp!’

The punk’s eyes widened and he took a step back. ‘All right, mate. No need to be aggressive.’

Alex laughed. ‘Aggressive? You haven’t seen aggressive yet, fucker.’ He wanted to kill this young man. He wanted to tear the guy’s face off and feed it to his friends. He wanted to be in the middle of the group as they tried to attack him and he would shred each and every one of them limb from limb. And he knew he could do it. With a cry of despair he shoved the man out of his way and strode across the road. Car horns blared and tyres screeched. The hollow pop of impact and a tinkling shower of headlight glass receded in the distance as he jumped over a pedestrian fence on the opposite pavement and turned down a side street. He ignored the raised voices behind him and turned into the welcoming warmth of a pub doorway.

Quiet this early in the day, it seemed safe. He walked to the empty bar and sat on a stool. ‘Give me a double whisky,’ he said to the barman’s raised eyebrow. ‘In fact,’ he put his wallet on the counter between them, ‘give me two and keep an eye open for empty glasses.’ He had never been a drinker, but needed something to calm this rage.

The man shrugged and poured the drinks, putting them on the draining tray without a word. Alex handed him a twenty-pound note and sank the first in a single gulp. As the barman put his change beside his wallet on the scored old oak, Alex sipped at the second drink.

He sensed her come in, his mind still wired. As she walked casually through the pub to sit next to him, he concentrated on locking down his shields. The booze helped. He waved, holding up the empty glass, staring at nothing but the oak bar.

‘Give me the same,’ Silhouette said, though it sounded a thousand miles away.

The barman delivered the drinks, helped himself to Alex’s money. Alex sipped again, breathing, sipping, breathing, sipping, letting thoughts drift across his mind’s eye like a movie screen. He ignored Silhouette, ignored the pub, ignored everything. He was a warrior, this is what he did. He remained calm in desperate situations. The voice of his Sifu drifted across his mind.
You must be aware of your emotions, but not a slave to them. You must be aware of the emotions of others and use them to your advantage. Throughout it all you must remain calm. Anger, fear, doubt, these things will ruin you. They will stiffen you and you’ll snap in the winds of adversity. Control them, control yourself, bend in the wind like a willow.

He began to settle, his mind his own again. Since he had raised his knee to take down Peacock’s door, he realised, he had been barely in control. At any moment he could have gone berserk. He was thankful he’d managed to hold on to himself as much as he had. The warm, soft glow of inebriation played along with his breathing exercises. The crowing of the book had dulled. The irony wasn’t lost on him. Alcohol, the great control destroyer he’d always avoided, working in his favour now.

Silhouette laid a hand on his shoulder, her palm hot. ‘You back with us?’

Alex nodded, saying nothing. He still had very mixed feelings about her, but at least she knew exactly what had been happening. He took great comfort in knowing he wasn’t completely alone in all this.

‘You’re a remarkable young man, Alex,’ she said, her voice low, seductive.

‘I wish I wasn’t.’

‘You said that before. But you are. Nothing you can do about it.’

‘Fuck.’ He sipped.

She squeezed his shoulder. ‘So. What now?’

‘What now? I’m going to have a couple more drinks and then I’m going to destroy this fucking book and stone, that’s what now.’

Silhouette left her hand on his shoulder, warm and reassuring, as they drank. Alex knew getting drunk was a bad idea in the long run, but it seemed to be dulling the insistent presence of the book in his pocket and the Darak against his chest.

Welby lay dead in his own house. Peacock lay dead in his shop, murdered by Alex’s hand. Silhouette drank the blood from a dead man’s eye socket. These things in his possession had turned his life upside down. What next?

He knew Peacock’s death was his own desire, yet there was more to it than that. Would he really have acted so defiantly, so violently, without feeling as though the book and the stone were urging him on? He wondered how much control he had. How much he knew his own mind. He had skills others couldn’t imagine. He had learned more about that in the last couple of days than he would ever have dreamed possible. And those powers were exponentially increased with this shard around his neck. But at what cost? And how connected were these items? He truly intended to destroy them both, but deep down felt certain he wouldn’t be able to. It wouldn’t stop him trying, but if he couldn’t destroy them, then what?

He needed help and the only people he knew who might have a clue were dead.
My thoughts are going round in circles.
He looked disdainfully at the glass in his hand. Help and hindrance in one tiny package.

But there was someone else who could help. Silhouette. Devastating and terrifying, young and old, sensual and animal. His only ally. A monster. Alex turned to her, taking his eyes off the bar for the first time since he’d sat down.

‘So what are you really?’ Alex asked.

She smiled, a predatory baring of teeth at once alluring and frightening. ‘I told you. I’m Kin.’

Alex nodded. ‘Then I suppose the question is, what are Kin?’

‘What do you think?’

‘I think you’re some freak animal that lapped up the blood from a dead man’s eye. Beyond that I daren’t consider.’

‘Really?’

Alex sighed. ‘I’m starting to think I’ve lived my whole life blind. I’ve seen magic, I think I’ve used magic. I fought two fucking gargoyles! So I’m not sure I can really get my head around what you might be.’

Silhouette stroked his cheek. ‘You’re doing pretty well.’

‘You drank his blood, Silhouette! Your eyes turned black.’ She nodded, letting her hand slip away. He frowned. ‘But you say you’re not a vampire.’

‘I’m not. I would have eaten his flesh too, but that would have been too confusing for the police who might find him. A bit of smeared blood is less … incriminating. But being a vampire is a lifestyle choice.’

‘What?’

She gestured over her shoulder, out the door of the pub. ‘Those punks you nearly tore to pieces out there. They dress and act a certain way. They choose a particular style of being, right?’

‘I suppose.’

‘Same thing with my people and vampirism.’

Alex shook his head. ‘No, no. Just because someone chooses to act like a vampire, that doesn’t make them one. You’re more than playing some twisted role.’

‘I told you, I’m not a vampire. Just like you’re not a punk.’

‘Yeah, but I could be a punk if I chose to be.’

Silhouette finished the last of her drink. ‘And I could be a vampire. Some of my people dig the whole gothic thing. I’m not a fan.’

Alex sipped, buying time to think. He couldn’t really think of anything. ‘But you drank his blood.’

‘Like I said, it was too good to miss. Such adrenaline and fear. Delicious! It was so hard not taking a bite too.’

‘How is that not being a vampire?’

Silhouette turned on her stool to face him, took his hand in hers. ‘I told you I had a history that might not sit well with you. I figured the easiest thing would be to show you outright. Plus, I couldn’t resist. I’m not a vampire, but I do feed on people. My
kind
feed on people, and not just on their blood, but flesh, bones, the whole thing.’

Alex swallowed hard, a rocky lump of bile rising in his throat again. She sat there admitting a hideous truth and he still found her so enthralling. He was drawn to her, desperate to explore every centimetre of her. She looked at him with soft eyes, her earlier casual cheeriness giving way to a seriousness she didn’t seem comfortable displaying. ‘What the fuck?’ was all he could manage.

‘Humans always have to categorise and pigeonhole, Alex. Vampires and werewolves, demons and angels. We’re all of those things and none of them. We are Kin. We’re the monsters under the bed, the bogeyman in the closet, the fear in the dark.’

‘Humans?’

She reached out for his cheek again. ‘You’re human, Alex. I’m not. At least, not entirely. That’s what makes me Kin. My people don’t generally mix with yours. If you see us, you don’t live long enough to talk about it. That’s where the vampire and werewolf legends come from. And all the others. Some of my people got into the idea and started to live out the human perception. They like that, get a thrill out of it. Sometimes they settle into that way of being for decades, even centuries. Sometimes they bore quickly. But we’re all Kin. You’re human. But I’m a bit different. I’ve always had a soft spot for people.’

Alex shook his head, trying to keep up. ‘So you like to butter the cow up before you eat it?’

She grabbed his chin, tipped his face up, planted a kiss on his lips. It was hot and passionate, arousing him instantly. ‘I don’t tend to eat the people I befriend.’ She sat back with a wink.

‘So why have you befriended me?’

‘I’m weird like that.’

He laughed in spite of his confusion. If he ignored the fact that she was not entirely human, and that she fed on humans, she was actually pretty cool. He laughed harder at the ridiculous chain of thought.

She grinned at him. ‘You’re a bit weird too, aren’t you? Maybe that’s why we’re getting along.’

Alex’s laughter faded as reality swung back in front of him. ‘I need help,’ he said, casting his eyes down at the floor.

‘I know. And I don’t think I can really give you the help you need, but I can be there while you try.’

And there it was again. The only reason he wasn’t completely alone in all this. He knew he looked past the mind-bending revelations of what she actually might be primarily because of that. And because she was smoking hot. More than anything he needed someone to cling onto while the world fell apart around him. ‘I need to try to destroy this stone and this book,’ he said quietly.

‘I think the stone is fairly safe. It’s a tool. And a powerful one at that. I don’t think you should give it up so easily. The book is another matter.’

His eyes searched hers. ‘You think I should destroy the book?’

‘I think you should try. But I don’t think you’ll be able to.’

‘And then what?’

She shrugged. ‘The offer still stands to talk to my Clan Lord. If you earn the right to speak to him, if you survive, he might be able to help you.’

Alex swallowed the last of his whisky. He picked up his wallet, leaving the few remaining coins on the bar, and stood. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Where?’

‘First we’ll get a cab to Welby’s for my stuff. And maybe some of his.’

A man and a woman, sharp corporate dress and expensive shoes, stood looking down at the corpse of Peacock. Blood dried in a sticky patch around his head, congealed on his cheeks like a frozen flood of dark scarlet tears, smeared by something.

The man clasped his hands together, steepled index fingers gently tapping his lips. The fluorescent light from above reflected off his pale, completely bald head. ‘Well, Ms Sparks,’ he said eventually. ‘It would appear that our friend Mr Peacock really upset someone this time.’

The woman smiled, long blonde hair half covering a coldly attractive, severe face. ‘Indeed, Mr Hood. You have to admire the handiwork.’

Hood nodded, looking up at the doorway to the shopfront, the wooden frame splintered with bullet holes. ‘Whoever did this avoided extremely close-range gunfire and didn’t waste any time completing their objective.’ Peacock’s gun lay in his slack palm. Hood tapped it with his toe. ‘Either our miserable little bookseller was truly useless with this, or his assailant was very fast.’

‘Maybe a bit of both,’ Sparks said thoughtfully. ‘Not to mention avoiding the various protective wards.’ She crouched, looking closely at Peacock’s ruined eyes. After a moment’s silent contemplation she stood, smoothing her tight, dark skirt. ‘So, looks like we won’t need to continue trying to negotiate with Peacock for all this.’ Her hand swept the room, taking in the bowed shelves of grimoires and scrolls. ‘Instead of trying to convince him to give us a price we can turn a profit on we can take it all and clear a very healthy margin.’

Hood nodded absently, still staring at Peacock’s corpse. His index fingers tapped away at his lips, eyes narrowed.

‘What are you thinking?’ Sparks asked. ‘I’m sure Peacock pissed off plenty of people. This was inevitable really, given enough time.’

Hood lowered his hands. ‘Certainly. But think about it. This kind of targeted, ruthless violence doesn’t come from a simple dispute.’ He pointed to the bullet-riddled doorway. ‘Someone destroyed the front door, came in while Peacock squeezed off several shots. They covered this distance and killed him without any unnecessary activity. And then they left.’ He pointed at a book on Peacock’s desk. ‘Look at that. Very valuable that is. And the stuff on the shelves is untouched. Why didn’t they take anything? Why not ransack the place?’

Sparks looked around, shrugged. ‘You think this was about something else?’ Hood nodded. ‘Something specific?’ Sparks asked.

‘I built Black Diamond Incorporated by sourcing the kind of things that most people don’t even believe in,’ Hood said. ‘I’ve made an obscene amount of money by learning to spot those items and find buyers for them. I notice details.’ He gestured at Peacock. ‘This situation bears the hallmarks of something very intriguing. I want to know who killed this despicable little man and why. Have the boys get around here and gather up anything of value before the police or some other busybodies stumble across it all. We can’t let an opportunity like this slip by. Any authorities will think it a simple robbery. There’s nothing to trace back to us if we’re clean.’

Sparks nodded. ‘Yes, sir. And the killer?’

Hood smiled. ‘I think we need to call in the Subcontractor.’

Sparks’s face split in a wide grin. ‘Excellent!’

‘But first.’ Hood ran a long, thin hand through Sparks’s hair. ‘This whole situation rather thrills me. Bend over that desk, Ms Sparks. I have some excitement that needs releasing.’

Sparks dipped her head coyly, her grin staying put. ‘Why, Mr Hood!’

Alex and Silhouette stood outside Welby’s house, looking up through watery light at the stuccoed Victorian facade. ‘What do you see?’ Alex asked.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Describe to me what you see.’

Silhouette looked the house up and down, at the others either side. ‘I see a mostly white, two-storey house. It’s kinda dirty, but looks in good condition. Tile roof, new windows. Pretty much the same as every other house along this street. What am I supposed to see?’

‘Look at the roof again.’

‘Yeah? Tiles, chimney. What?’

Alex frowned at the plainly obvious third storey, windows with the curtains drawn. The house stood head and shoulders over every other home in the street. He laughed, shook his head. ‘Come on then.’

Silhouette planted her hands on her hips. ‘What the hell? What am I supposed to see?’

‘It’ll be easier to show you. Come inside.’

Alex paused as he shut the broken front door behind them, wedging it closed with its broken catch. He studied the devastation from his fight with the gargoyles. He fought for a living, but he’d never had a battle like that in his life. Hoped he never would again. Drawing a deep breath he started up the stairs, bracing himself for Welby’s corpse. ‘Don’t like, lick him or anything,’ he said.

‘Okay then. Just for you.’

He led her to the first floor and stood with his back to the stairs leading to the third, secret storey. ‘You see anything you don’t expect?’

‘What are you going on about? What am I supposed to see?’

Alex turned and walked up the stairs, feeling a shiver of magesign as he passed through Welby’s wards. Silhouette gasped behind him. He turned, looked down at her. ‘See now?’

She laughed, wide-eyed. ‘Well, of course I can see now you’ve shattered the wards for me.’

‘They’re still here, I think. Can you follow me up?’

Silhouette made a strange gesture with her hand then shrugged. She mounted the stairs and followed him. ‘Bloody clever,’ she muttered. ‘Certainly not Welby’s own work. He must have paid a lot for this.’

‘I don’t think money was much of an issue for him.’

‘Clearly.’

In Welby’s study Alex started looking more closely at the books that lined every wall. Nothing made a lot of sense to him. There was a wealth of information here, not to mention massive monetary value, but it wasn’t worth the paper it was written on at this stage. What could he use? Silhouette walked slowly around the room, running one finger along the spines of the books.

‘This is amazing,’ she said. ‘Do you realise how amazing this is?’

‘Sure. But I need something to help me with my situation.’

For hours they pored over Welby’s library, looking for anything that might shed some light on Alex’s dilemma. A small pile of books grew crookedly in the middle of the floor, all incredible, all containing unbelievable degrees of knowledge and magic. Tomes that mentioned anything about Fey history or curses or stones of power. Eventually, tired, despondent, Alex stared at the works they had gathered.

‘None of this is really helpful, is it?’

Silhouette smiled ruefully. ‘I’m not sure there’s anything that
can
help you with your current predicament.’

Alex spun on his heel. ‘Fuck this! I’m going to burn this book.’

Silhouette trotted to catch up. ‘I’m not sure burning’s a good idea.’

Alex glared over his shoulder, his eyes alive with fury.

Silhouette held up both palms. ‘All right, easy there.’ She giggled. ‘Give it a go.’