Long Division (23 page)

15:Godlink

In the days that followed, we began to consider that, perhaps, there was more to the RAVs than we’d originally thought. Could it perhaps be more than people simply reverting? Perhaps it was not simply regression, as originally stated in the meeting notes we’d acquired, but a deeper test? A deeper set of commands; and only a select few were following them. Much like James and his chimps.

I may have speculated but James was convinced it was another test. Another way for them to measure their control over people’s behaviour. Convincing people to buy products was one thing—companies did that on a daily basis with subliminal adverts—convincing normally peaceful people to attack others outright, that was something else.

So, when we found the phrases SHOW TIME and TRAFALGAR SQUARE embedded in an InVizion document, along with a clearly stated time and date it was needless to say, we had marked the day.

It was James’s first excursion from the flat—my flat—since he’d
temporarily
moved in. In reality he’d become somewhat of a permanent fixture in my place and I hadn’t found it in me to ask him to leave. It could not last for ever, however. Having a flatmate, someone as temperamental as he, with the constant battles of smoking, was difficult to live with at the best of times.

And, as much as I didn’t want to get my hopes up, if my relationship with Ashley progressed any further, I would certainly like a private place to retreat to.

James wouldn’t understand. But then again, when did he ever?

I closed the door firmly behind me and I glanced to that of my neighbour’s on the way to the stairs. Since they’d taken Charlie away, all had been quiet. James’s toes were almost knocking to my heels as we walked.

My friend was silent, as he usually was, but there was, perhaps, a sense about him that was more pensive than usual. I struggled to sit still and keep quiet on the cab ride, but I had questions. Of course, James knew just about as much as I did, but whatever we were about to step into, I wanted to have some sort of plan. Some sort of understanding about what we’d do, or what might happen. If we were walking into danger, I wanted James and I to be on the same page.

‘Do you have—’ He was paying me no mind. I cleared my throat loudly. ‘Do you have any suggestions on what we should do? What we should be expecting?’

He continued to stare out his window. ‘We are simply to stand back and observe. That is all.’

I ground my teeth. Stand back. Observe. Right. Well, I could do that. That didn’t involve anything dangerous. And we’d be in a large group of people, Trafalgar was always crowded, so, if there was a problem, well, we’d be somewhat safe, right?

I glanced at my watch. Fifteen minutes until whatever happened would happen. I gnawed on my bottom lip for lack of something better to do.

The cab pulled up and I sprang out, James following at my heels. His expression was slack; hands stuffed into his pockets, looking almost bored. Without any directions I picked a spot near the outside of the square and settled in. James planted himself next to me.

For a while, there was nothing.

Then, gradually, almost unnoticeable to me, more people were arriving, coming from all directions. I felt a flutter pick up in my stomach. James watched them, too, scanning the crowd with that detached interest of his.

‘Busy day,’ I remarked, hoping for something from him.

He flattened his lips into a thin line.

I shifted uneasily in the growing sea of people. The square was usually crowded, yet today it was all the more. I strained my neck, trying to see if there was some event to draw them. From my position I could see no performers or the usual tourist traps that frequented the area. Yet here they were: all coming here for some reason. Like us.

I glanced back to my watch.

‘Five minutes. Whatever is going to happen, it’s going to happen soon.’ I swallowed hard. My throat was constricting. I felt tense. No, not just me. The very
air
felt tense. Vibrating; charged. I’d felt it once before, outside in the country before a thunderstorm: the feeling of electricity in the air.

Beside me James had finally stirred, but not to speak to me. He was slowly raising his arms. I watched nervously, wary of everything. The light hairs on his hands were standing straight. He stared at them for a moment in clear bafflement, before letting out a hiss of breath.

The back of my neck was prickling as I passed my hand over it. My hair was standing on end as well. What the hell was happening?

I turned to him. But he wasn’t minding me; he was looking at the square.

For one brief heartbeat I heard it. The sound of nothing. Yes, there were cars; there were still the sounds of London, but from the square? Nothing but the sound of water falling from the fountain.

Something was definitely wrong; it sent my spine going too straight.

Everyone in the square was standing dead still. They might as well have been frozen. And they were all staring at us.

To describe how bloody terrifying it was to see so many people, all unmoving, looking directly at me, well, it is difficult. It sent my stomach crashing somewhere round my feet. Every alarm bell in me was clanging. I wanted nothing to do but turn and go bolting down the nearest side street. My heel scraped backwards against the pavement, already pushing me that way. I could imagine them very clearly, rushing us in one massive, brutal force.

I looked to James. If this was freaking me out, he had to be completely mental.

He wasn’t.

In fact, he was exactly the opposite. He was unmoving, exactly as I’d last seen him, hands still raised, hairs still on end, eyes fixed on the crowd.

And I knew then, at the sight of them. They weren’t watching
us.
They were watching James.

From the silence I heard something, like a collective sigh.

Someone behind me, on the other side of the street, had noticed the spectacle. I heard the gasp, distantly. What? What spawned her fear? James wasn’t hurting anyone…

‘Oh my God!’

With dread, I pulled my eyes from James’s frozen form back to the square. The ground spun beneath me. The edges of my vision went blurry with disbelief. I thought I might faint. Because, God, what I was seeing was
not
possible.

The crowd was in the air.

They were
hovering.
No more than a foot or so off of the ground, but they were hovering. I watched their feet dangle. Their heads were craned back, staring up at the grey sky. Like so many hanged bodies.

‘Fuck…James?’ My eyes tore back to him, painful enough to be a physical severing.

He made no move; yet stood, gasping. A thick trickle of blood was leaking from his right nostril; his head shook. He stared at the square with wide, unfixed eyes; hands thrown before him, fingers curling. As if pushing something away from him.

The clarity hit me as a physical blow.

Oh my God. He was responsible.

I could literally
feel
it as I understood. Feel the power radiating off of him in wave after wave.

It only grew worse, for now; the entire square of people began to shake and tremble in the air. It was a sickening sight; they were powerless, could do absolutely nothing as their bodies were jerked and tossed about as if they were nothing but dolls.

James gave a gasp. The blood was thicker from his nose, coming from both nostrils now. I saw more snaking from his ear. Out of the corner of his eyes.

I was paralysed by helplessness and bewilderment. ‘JAMES!’ Why it wasn’t happening to me was beyond my caring at the moment. I didn’t bother questioning. I thought only to lunge forward and grab his arm, desperately attempting to pull him back; break his connection; praying I wouldn’t make it worse. ‘ENOUGH! STOP IT!’

He didn’t budge, yet gasped again, legs wobbling.

A spurt of blood from one of the captives caught my eye and I watched the red ribbon loop up, following the course of the water in the fountain, splashing into the pool.

Oh. Oh God. He was going to kill them all.

I had to do something fast. James was gone. I could see that much from his eyes.

I panicked because I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what shaking him free from his trance would do, but if I did not act, James Nightgood would be a murderer, whether he wanted to or not.

So I balled a fist and swung at him, striking his jaw with all the strength I had.

James’s head snapped to the side with such force I thought I may have broken something. His eyes closed and he fell with a groan. Everyone in the square did as well. In one eerie, collective sigh, they dropped.

I ignored everyone but him. A pool of blood was forming round his head. My knees hit the pavement hard as I slapped him across the face.

People were moving now. They’d be on us in moments.

‘James! Snap out of it! Wake up!’

He moaned and writhed.

‘JAMES!’

His eyes shot open. He stared up at me in a childish, panicked, confusion. I grabbed him by the front of his jumper and hauled him to his feet.

‘Mark?’ his words bubbled around a glut of blood that came from his nose. He dabbed at it in bafflement.

‘What the hell did you do?’ I cried, knowing I must have looked like a madman to him. Around me, I could hear people coming, shouting, pointing. They were coming for us. They were coming for James. Those watching. The curious mob.

‘I—I—I don’t—I don’t—I don’t know—Mark?’

I didn’t have time for his babbling. ‘We have to go, NOW!’

He was still clearly confused, but he snapped out of it. And snapped into action. James grabbed my hand.

We ran.

My feet tangled together and I felt my shoulder stretch to the point of tugging at my socket. The noise was incredible compared to the silence. That of the city. And the sounds of horror. I heard someone yell for us to stop. Some, I didn’t know how many, were not stopping to help the injured or stand about in disbelief. Some of them wanted to be heroes. They wanted James. And there was a very good chance they wouldn’t have restraint when they caught him. All of the hatred he’d built up towards himself over the months was finally spilling over.

I only saw blurs of things: Pavement, James’s shoes, a trail of red that splattered beneath my feet from him. His hand, hot and sweaty in my own. My breath burned in my lungs. My legs went weak.

Still we ran. We ran and ran till I was lost and relying on James for every thought, every decision, every turn. I did not know where we were. And frankly, I did not care. I could only follow and run.

At long last, after an agonisingly, painful, hellish journey, we were back. James and I staggered to the front steps of my flat. I could go no further and collapsed to the pavement, retching, gagging for breath. I could not remember the last time I had ever run so fast in my life. And I was bloody terrified. I was terrified of the man I was with; I was terrified of what had just happened.

Whoever was tailing us, we’d lost them. The sirens of emergency vehicles were distant; no angry shouts to be heard. We were safe—for the moment. I honestly didn’t know how true that was anymore. Not after what I’d just seen.

Somewhere, beside me, beyond my own misery, James was suffering much the same. I slumped to my side, not sure if I’d be able to even reach the door to let us inside. Not sure if I wanted to let him in. I looked to James in fear.

Blood was pooling beneath his bowed head, which was pressed to the pavement. I watched his body give a shudder. And then he was violently sick.

16:Blood and Fire

When I at last found the strength to move, I was able to hook one of James’s limp arms in my hand and haul him to the front door. He let out a throaty groan and his knees wobbled beneath him; yet we managed to struggle down to my flat. He staggered to the sofa once inside and gript the back of it, swaying.

I could only stare at him. At his long, thin form. And even in the mental state I was in, I couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering over his back; his curved hips, hidden beneath his baggy trousers, his arse, and down his long legs. The back of his trousers were hitched up slightly from his position and I could see his stockings. No, James Nightgood did not dress well—I would give you that—but fuck me if he didn’t
look
good.

One would almost think him ungainly, and yes, though he was awkward socially, he had a physical presence I would almost call fluid it was so precise. His whole body, I found myself thinking—much to my bafflement, and perhaps overspent mind—was perfect. It was all straight lines, all exact angles. An equation himself.

Mathematical.

I felt heady with the rush of adrenaline and exhaustion and overwhelming confusion over what I’d just seen. My thoughts were in such a jumble I couldn’t sort them. I wanted answers, and I didn’t want to know. I wanted to forget it all. I wanted to just block what I’d seen from my mind. Because it wasn’t right. What I’d just seen James do wasn’t right.

I took a step towards him. The ground seemed to tilt and I felt drunk.

‘James?’ I finally managed to gasp. ‘What the
hell
happened back there?’ I panted. ‘What did you do?’

His narrow shoulders shuddered beneath his dirty, rumpled jumper. ‘I don’t—’

‘All of those people!’ I marched towards him, possessed with a burning defiance to
not
argue to his back. Damn him!

‘I don’t know! I don’t know!’

I grabbed him by the shoulder and whirled him round with all my strength. James let out a gasp, hands flailing wide. He lost his balance and snagged the front of my shirt and with a growl, threw me against the wall.

I hit it with a loud
whump!
and fear immediately filled me. His hand not gripping the front of my shirt had somehow managed to catch my hands and my elbows bent painfully at the angle he now had them above me.

Dear God, I would go the same way as all of those people in the square. He was dangerous; murderous, perhaps, and here I was, pinned against the wall by him. Hell, he probably didn’t even need to use physical strength. Why he wasn’t holding me here by will alone was beyond me. Perhaps he was too weak. Perhaps I had a chance.

He was still panting. A dried path of blood snaked from his nose.

Most terrifying were his green eyes: dilated till they were almost black.

I could feel him shaking over me. Could smell him. My head swam from it. I could feel his thighs against mine. He was too tall. His abdomen pressed against my belly.

For once he was staring directly at me.

I froze, unable to move. Those long fingers of his were still coiled round the front of my shirt. I absently noted his terrifyingly strength. He didn’t realise it either, which did, in a way, make it more frightening to be held captive as I was. My wrists hurt, my bones rubbing together, still pinned above my head thanks to his large hand.

I couldn’t even remember what we’d been arguing about.

All I could focus on was the incredible closeness of him. How I’d wanted such closeness. How I’d thought about it. I couldn’t even explain where the desire came from but I was suddenly here. I was suddenly weak and tired and afraid and…and all I wanted was him. Wanted him this close. Wanted comfort. Wanted to feel his mouth against mine.

A hot rush of desire flushed through me, yet as I looked up at him with hope to see if that sense was there for him, I felt a crushing blow. He was frightened and confused; of course he didn’t understand.

‘What is it you want me to do?’ he breathed, voice not at all like I’d heard before. It was husky, deep, like his dilated eyes. I could feel something incredibly close to fear rolling off of him. ‘What is it you possibly want me to say?’

I wrestled with my emotions, which were spinning wildly—dangerously—out of control; and I wasn’t sure if James could stand against it.

Before I could stop or understand myself, I was pushing myself up on my toes, rising to his level—or near enough. My heart thudded, but I could think of no other way to escape the barrage of emotions I was feeling.

I kissed him, forcefully.

It wasn’t a gesture of romance. I was frightened. Terrified. And—of course—my kiss was unsure. But I couldn’t hold it back. It was all hunger and anger and a fierce adrenaline mixed together in a rough, dangerous intensity.

For a brief second he was frozen in absolute shock by the foreign closeness and invasion of me. I was all too aware of what I’d done, and a small part of me deeply regretted it. There was no going back from this impulse of mine. Everything we had laboured for. The friendship, the trust. I’d just thrown it all away. All in one rush of anger and fear and desperation I had evaporated his personal space. It was unforgivable.

All because I just couldn’t fight it any longer. I had to
know.

He didn’t pull free from me, still had me pinned to the wall. He just was there, gripping, letting my teeth and lips tear at his without resistance. I felt his breath explode against my face and then, as if an unconscious effort on his part, felt his body lean up against mine, closing the small space between our bellies.

I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not; this had already gone farther than I’d planned. But before I could put a stop to it, pull back, apologise, make up some sort of excuse, I became aware that I was no longer alone in the action. For he was attempting to kiss me back. His soft lips brushed against mine in an experimental motion, trying to mimic my own.

Our eyes locked. His were wide, unsure, and…for the first time, perhaps a little timid. Like he was asking me for approval.

The impossible thought of him responding kicked an alien rocket of nerves through me. To my surprise, it excited me. I still didn’t know what I’d started, but with all this madness, God, I was willing to see where it led. I was gasping for it.

I nodded at him.

His mouth quirked with uncertainty.

And suddenly he was forcefully kissing me back. His grip had slacked slightly and I knotted my fingers in his hair once one of my hands was free. It was all a sloppy blur of limbs and uncontrolled, inexperienced, movements, awkward grasps and my head swam. I moaned in his mouth.

His kisses were untried, messy. He didn’t know what he was doing; he was shy and clearly confused by his own actions—hell, I didn’t even know if they were his own actions any more at this point—but he wasn’t an expert in everything and I took control of the kiss once more. I may have been uncertain where things were headed, but he was obviously in the dark.

I pressed my body against his. Ground as close as I could like some teenager. I felt him growing hard against me now. And it felt strangely satisfying. He’d always appeared so detached in my mind, never showing any emotion, any signs of feeling towards anything but his maths. But now, now he was actually expressing it. He, for once, felt so human, his actions so unexpected and real, it left me breathless. I hadn’t known it was possible. I couldn’t let it end. Couldn’t let him slip away from me, slip back into his detached, inhuman shell.

I slid my arm around his waist and pulled him closer to me, wanting him to feel. I wanted him to know it was happening to me too—that he wasn’t alone. It was okay.

But as I did, James stiffly pulled away from me, gasping for air. The disappointment hit hard and I stared up at him, shaking to pieces, feeling my whole body ache with a painful arousal that I couldn’t control. His eyes…they were shining in a way I had never seen before, dilated to growing black pools. Perhaps the only thing that had come close to this was seeing him work on a particularly difficult problem. Only then was he as excited as he was now.

I wasn’t quite sure what he was capable of whilst not thinking clearly, which he plainly was not, but as hot as I felt it had to have sparked something similar in his brain. The desire inside of me was growing, screaming, begging for some sort of release of this incredible tension. But I was not sure what to do about it.

It was maddening.

It had been too long and I’d forgotten how bad it could be. I didn’t know what he was thinking but he couldn’t just leave it here. He couldn’t stop now, leaving me gasping and unsatisfied.

He almost seemed to have read my mind, for he pushed himself up against me again. I heard myself let out a reluctant and slightly embarrassing groan of desire and pleasure somewhere in between the working of our lips against each other. My tongue parts his lips.

I tasted blood.

His mouth was moving now, away from my own and my stomach pinched in worry. Perhaps he didn’t like the way it felt. I shuddered, shaking the thought away, as I felt him bring his lips to my ear, his tongue tracing along my lobe and then his mouth slid up, huffing into my hair. Exploring. I distractedly wondered if he really was as inexperienced as he’d claimed. Even as I felt his mouth move, there was something clinical about it. Methodical.

I was too short to do much but just kiss at his neck and chest. So I ran my mouth along his jaw, biting at him, bringing my teeth down his throat.

‘God, I need to feel you.’

I pulled at his jumper, pressed my mouth to his collarbone. Perhaps I was growing a little sloppy, too.

His hand slid from the wall where he’d been supporting himself and then slipped to my neck, then my chest, sending a trail of fire wherever it went. I was curious beyond my desire as I watched his fingers run down. With that I felt a tightening in the pit of my stomach at his nerve.

We looked to each other.

He stared questioningly, hand pressed against my abdomen. My whole body felt near exploding. I nodded my head slowly. Yes, yes I wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted to feel him. Be felt by him. God, I wanted it more than anything.

The fluttering feeling in my stomach and lower was growing more intense.

He frowned, still looking unsure, almost detached, as he fiddled with the button on my trousers. Too slow for me he managed to free it and pulled the zipper down. And then his hand smoothly slipped down past the waistband of my jeans. My body automatically jerked against his from the sudden shock of it. His long fingers curling around me; cool and firm. I tried to remember the last time my cock had gotten this type of attention and failed to recall. Certainly not like
this.

Kissing was one thing: it was something I’d grown more comfortable with, but this…this…oh God. It was so familiar that I decided almost immediately I didn’t want it to stop. He was clumsy—honestly, did the man not even have a
wank
now and then? I didn’t care. It did the trick.

I wrapped my arm tighter round his neck to pull closer to him. James had me gasping, swearing at his exploring touch, so agonising I could hardly breathe. He was certainly not shy.

I heard myself moan. Something I couldn’t control. I wanted to just collapse against the wall, go completely limp and give in to this.

Beyond that, I didn’t know what I should be doing. I was kissing him but I didn’t know if should be fighting from his grasp and ending this now or touching him back; being completely selfish or returning the favour. I was out of my depth just as much as he.

‘Don’t stop,’ I panted as he pulled his hand away from his glorious stroking and wrapped it round the front of my shirt. It was
not
what I wanted.

He didn’t listen. Instead, he backed up, taking me with him. I wasn’t aware of much besides the motion of our kissing. My mouth working furiously against his, barely able to keep up; I was overcome by the way his kisses were coming now. He was a fast learner, if this was his first.

He bumped against my meagre mattress and pulled me down onto the bed. I landed heavily over him, just catching myself in time. He was still moving; one of his legs found its way round mine, sliding down till his foot brushes against my heel. With several
clunks
our shoes slid off, hitting the floor.

My breath was ragged from the excitement but I didn’t feel like any air was entering my lungs. He caught me by the hair and for a moment I was frozen by his green stare.

‘I’m afraid…’ His voice was shaking, with either nerves or desire or lack of air, I wasn’t sure. He brushed the bridge of his nose against mine. ‘I’m afraid I’m not very…experienced with this. I don’t know what I should do.’ I could hear the tremble in his voice. He screwed his eyes shut.

I swallowed. Every move he made sent a flare of desire through me. His erection, straining against his trousers, rubbed against mine. With each shift, it reminded me of just how out of my depth I was. And James was just as clueless. I let out a breath. Hell, it couldn’t be that different from what I did on my own.

‘All right, let me.’

I pushed the last tatters of my shyness away and my hand clamped over his groin; I am ashamed to admit I was a bit aggressive. He gasped raggedly, a shaking, unsteady waver in his voice as his teeth clacked together. I hadn’t expected the violent reaction to my touch. He rocked forward against me, pressing his forehead to mine, breath exploding in a tremulous gasp against my face. It was almost a whimper.