Blood, Glass and Sugar Page 12

  They kept coming back, but her boss refused to recognise how much extra Trix was doing. She was already setting up her own online dressmaking business. Her mother would have a fit if she told her, say that no one would want to buy the crazy clothes she made and wore.

  She walked out into a white world. The first snow of winter had fallen while she had been inside, and though the road was already grey with slush the pavements were sparkling white in the afternoon sun. She made a new path, stepping on fresh snow that hadn’t yet been flattened by footprints. To do so successfully she had to do hops and jumps. Evie would have laughed at her, but been embarrassed about the people staring. That thought stung.

  She turned into Evie’s street. She’d known she would do that as soon as she had stepped out of the cafe. Hopefully Evie would be calm enough to actually talk and see some reason.

  Trix chuckled to herself. Usually it was Evie telling her to make sense, it was odd to be the sane one for a change. She was still laughing when she saw something purple dripping out of mid-air and splashing down onto to the snow. She stared, walking closer and kneeling down to touch it. It was warm and sticky. More like blood than any sweet drink.

  She looked up for the source she saw a boy she had not seen there before. He was walking up the steps to Evie’s house, swinging a black cloak over his shoulders as he went. His hair was impressive, even by Camden Lock’s standards; hundreds of thin, golden-blonde braids that hung all the way to his waist. She wondered if it was all real.

  She wiped her fingers in the snow, washing the sticky stuff off and drying them absently on the side of her coat. She followed him slowly, hanging back when he knocked on Evie’s door. It suddenly occurred to her that this could be the new boyfriend. If it was, Trix thought she would wait here until he came back out and ambush the bastard with questions, even if he was drop-dead gorgeous.

  He rang the doorbell, and Trix hung back further so if Evie answered she wouldn’t see her standing there. When she looked at the boy again he was different. Incredibly different. His hair was merely shoulder length and wasn’t even in braids. He was wearing a red knit jumper and jeans, instead of the period-drama cloak and knee-high boots. If not for the fact that his hair was still the same golden-blonde she would have sworn it was a new boy altogether.

  She shivered, not sure if it was the new snow falling in thick flakes from the sky, or the fact that she was imagining weird things. She looked back to see if there was still purple stuff on the pavement. It was a dark stain, just visible under the new layer of snow powdering over it.

  “Hello.” Lou answered the door, her eyebrows raising a fraction as she took in the boy on her doorstep. “Can I help you?”

  “I am looking for Evie.” Trix thought his voice suited him, every word properly pronounced, even and stupidly charming.

  “Sorry, she isn’t in. She went out a few hours ago.”

  “Where?” His voice suddenly sounded less charming, and more demanding.

  Lou looked a little taken aback. “I don’t know where, actually. She left in a hurry.”

  The boy stamped his foot like a child in a tantrum and Trix felt her mouth fall open.

  “I told her to wait here for me.” He flexed his fingers, curling them into fists at his sides. “When will she come back?”

  “She probably went to her friend Trix’s house. Sorry, I have to go. I’m putting up the Christmas tree.”

  Before he could question her further, Lou shut the door. Trix heard the lock clicking.

  The boy muttered something that sounded very angry and kicked up some snow.

  Trix made sure she was standing at the bottom of the steps, blocking his way when he turned to come back down. She glared at him, and he stared back in shock. Seizing the opportunity, she stepped up and punched him in the jaw.

  It didn’t seem to hurt more than it offended him. He grabbed her wrist, snatching so fast she didn’t see him move. His grip was strong. An ache spread up to her elbow.

  “Who are you?” he asked, and his eyes searched the street around them, as if looking for witnesses. “How the hell can you see me?”

  Trix struggled, trying to pry him off with her free hand. “Let go. I’m Trix, I’m Evie’s best friend.”

  His eyes were fierce. As she glared into them, she saw him changing. His hair grew out, warping into the thin braids she had seen before. His face got more angular, his cheekbones sharpening. Her legs shook beneath her, and she gasped when she saw his ears reshaping, elvish points forming, rising up from under his hair.

  “Where is Evie? It is imperative that I find her immediately.” He released her wrist. She stumbled backward down the steps and thought about running, but he followed her down. “Do you know where she is?”

  Trix shook her head. “We fell out.” She massaged her wrist gently. “What are you?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I am not human.”

  Trix shook her head. “Don’t fuck with me.” She was surprised at herself. This was the part where she was supposed to freak out. Maybe years of fantasy gaming was finally paying off. Maybe she could just accept that Evie was dating some sort of elf. She was suddenly very dizzy.

  The boy smiled. “I had no idea I was.” His grey eyes glittered wickedly.

  Trix’s heart beat hard in her chest. “I’m not playing games. I mean it. How do you know Evie?”

  He folded his arms, and she realised he was dressed in the old clothes again. At his belt she saw an ornate sword-hilt jutting out from behind his cloak. “Evie is working for me.” His words dripped arrogance.

  “What do you mean?” Trix felt her fingers curl into fists again, reflexively. She hated arrogant men. If she could call him a man.

  “Go home, girl. This is not something that concerns you. I am merely a little nightmare. You will wake up soon.”

  “Anything to do with Evie concerns me.”

  He turned away from her with disinterest and gazed up at the house. His cloak tore at the back as he did, in two thin vertical lines. Trix watched as long black feelers slid out of each tear, probing the air outside. Then a full set of wings emerged. They were unbelievable, and yet more real than any Trix could have imagined.

  Standing close to him she could see the veins running through them, glowing blue lines travelling over the rippling surface, like rivers in a black field. They looked both tangible and ethereal, the edges unfixed, twisting and leaping like black flames. He flexed them once, and then rose silently into the air until he was hovering at the very top window of the house. Evie’s bedroom.

  He pressed his hands against the frame, and a blue glow seeped out into the white paint. Then he pulled the window and it swung open easily. She heard his triumphant laugh before he climbed into Evie’s bedroom.

  Trix bolted to the front door and knocked hard until Lou answered.

  “Look, Evie is out- oh Trix!” Lou looked very relieved to see her. “Oh thank God. I thought you were someone else.” Her eyes scanned the street outside. “Evie isn’t here. I thought she went to your house.”

  Trix was glad to see that Lou was slightly worried. “She might be at my house. I haven’t been home.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. “I’ve left design sketches up in Evie’s room. Could I nip up and get them?”

  “Sure thing.” Lou stepped to the side and Trix slid past her, darting up the tinsel strewn stairs. She glanced behind her to see Lou walking back into the living room.

  Evie’s room was empty. Trix’s heart was beating so hard it was painful. She ran to the window and looked out into the street. There was no sign of him. She grabbed a few sheets of paper that were lying about so that Lou could see she took something. She locked the window again and went back out into the hall.

  There was whispering coming from Lou’s room on the landing below. Trix crept down the stairs to the doorway. She could see the hallway outside the living room, at the bottom of the next flight. Lou sounded busy, rustling through Christmas decorations.

  Trix grasped t
he door handle and pushed it open slowly. The faerie boy was standing in front of a mirror.

  “…But there is tonight and all of tomorrow. Still plenty of time, Sire.”

  He was talking to himself.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Trix walked further into the room. His wings were gone; there weren’t even any holes in his cloak to prove they’d ever been there.

  The boy looked angry when he saw her, but a smile soon relaxed his features, and he nodded his head to indicate something behind her.

  “Why are you in my room, Trix?”

  Trix spun on her heels to see Lou in the doorway. The woman stared at her, completely oblivious to the faerie boy’s presence. Trix felt the blood slither out of her face. “I…thought I heard something.” She swallowed hard. Her throat was dry and sore. “That’s a nice mirror.”

  Lou’s eyes narrowed. She crossed the room so that she was standing in front of the mirror, almost protectively. “You better go.”

  “Yes, Trix, you better go,” the boy echoed.

  Lou couldn’t hear him speak either.

  Trix nodded once, and left the room. Pounding down the stairs and out the front door. The boy pushed his way out behind her and shut the door.

  “You’re an interesting girl,” he said, twisting a lock of her hair around his finger. “Blue hair.”

  Trix pulled away from him. “Don’t touch me,” she warned, walking down the steps and onto the pavement. The snow was heavier, falling in sheets of white, blanketing the streets. The cars were queued in lines of traffic, moving slowly along beside them as they walked towards the main street.

  “Why are you following me?” She didn’t care that the bored people in the cars looked at her, thinking that she was talking to herself.

  “Well, you said you were Evie’s friend. So you must be curious.”

  “We fell out, I told you.” She couldn’t deny that she was curious. She was more than curious. Evie was missing, and there was some sort of faerie looking for her. This morning there had only been the school disco and Bella Morris to worry about. Now there were magical creatures too.

  “We have got off to a bad start. Forgive my rudeness. I was merely shocked that you could see me. How?”

  Trix shrugged, wiping snowflakes off her eyelashes. “I saw some purple stuff come out of nowhere first.”

  He reached to his belt and drew a long strip of purple-stained bandage out of a pouch. “Of course. I changed my wound. I should have been more careful.”

  “Whatever.” The stuff had reminded her of blood when she had touched it. She supposed a faery having purple blood was not something to be shocked about.

  “Did you touch it?” He asked, stuffing the bandage back into the pouch.

  She walked quicker, but he kept pace with her easily. “Yes, I did, so what?”

  “It has likely infected you with Sight then.” He gave a tired sigh. “What is done is done. Besides, you may be of some use. I need someone to keep an eye on her, someone mortal. She keeps managing to slip away, clever as a sprite.”

  “You think I’m going to help you out suddenly? I’m Evie’s friend, not yours. Besides, she isn’t telling me anything.”

  He grimaced. “Noble of her. Not so noble if she just disappears forever and no one ever knows what became of her.” He spoke casually, but Trix saw the way he watched her from the corner of his eye, his long black lashes making him look sinister and sly. “Still, these things happen, especially in this modern land.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Trix felt her patience ebbing rapidly.

  “My name is Auran, but to you that ought to be irrelevant. Evie has a spell to break. She might be in danger right now.”

  Trix stopped walking, shoving him with every ounce of her strength so that he slammed against a shop shutter. It rattled loudly and the people walking behind gave her a wide berth, gawking as they passed.

  Auran laughed, making blood roar in her ears. No more games, no more lies.

  “Explain, asshole. Right now,” she said.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Evie was glad to see that the alleyway wasn’t hiding from her. She looked around at the people in the street, wondering if they would just see her disappear into an old wreck of a house when she walked into the alley. No one was looking her way so she hurried down it.

  There were four black stallions tethered outside the Candle and Rose. Their bridles and stirrups were gold, and each was covered in a dark red coat decorated with interlocking silver serpents. Evie wondered if they belonged to Auran and his men. She knew she ought to go in and find him, but the thought of the other creatures inside made her reluctant.

  She glanced in the window as she passed, but all she could see were ordinary youths socialising. Just like when she had first gone into the alley. They were just glamour. Illusion hiding the bizarre reality beneath.

  Bran’s shop was empty; a sign telling her it was closed hanging over the window. She raised her hand, feeling anxiety settle over her like a cold and heavy blanket. She rapped three times.

  There was no reaction for a few minutes, so she started to knock again. Bran’s pale face appeared as if out of nowhere, startling her. She gave a short, high scream. He put a finger to his lips and undid all the locks and bolts on the door, pulling it open and ushering her in. As soon as she was inside he shoved every bolt across again, and twisted all the locks.

  “You shouldn’t be here.” His eyes were blazing. Evie didn’t think it had anything to do with the warm fire in the grate, catching the wine-red flecks in his eyes. His lips were trembling. “That Prince, the one I said was evil…” He began to pace, and she noticed he had a paintbrush in his hand; it sprayed blue paint as he waved it about to emphasise what he was saying. “He saved you from me. That really ought to have been your unmistakable sign that I was dangerous.”

  Evie didn’t know how to tell him what she had heard. “Bran, Auran told me your story,” she said at last.

  He sighed, it drew out of him slowly, painfully. His hand tightened on the paintbrush, breaking it in half with a snap. “My story.” He smiled ruefully, throwing the broken pieces into the fire. “Story is not a word I would use.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s none of his, or anyone’s business. I don’t understand what he wants.”

  “He wants to free you from the curse. He said…” she trailed off. That I was your fiancé…from before. It was not something she could just say. What did it really mean anyway? That they were destined, soul mates or something like that? It sounded ridiculous. Even standing in a faerie tattoo parlour with a medieval Englishman. “He said that I could break it.”

  Bran laughed. It was an empty, bitter sound. It made her feel ten inches tall, useless, stupid and out of place.

  “You will die. You want to throw away your life just because he desires to use you? It is not altruistic on his part, believe me.”

  Evie sighed, taking her rucksack off her back and setting it down on the wooden floor. “I know it isn’t. He didn’t pretend. He’s duty bound to free his King from the mirror.”

  Bran shook his head. “None of them should be freed. He laid the curse on me, if putting the damn mirror back together frees the king he is likely to put a dagger through my heart, entirely defeating the purpose.”

  “Not really. Do you want to be a prisoner for the rest of eternity?”

  Bran turned his back on her, staring into the fire. He was breathing heavily, his shoulder’s heaving up and down. “I have had an eternity already to get used to it. Better I am trapped in here than you are sacrificed trying to save me. It does not work like you believe it does. Your kiss is not going to restore the beast to a man.”

  He spun to face her again. The fire burned behind him like a halo, his features were shadowed, making his eyes seem black. “You have a life, friends and family. Who am I to you? No one!”

  Evie rubbed her hands nervously on her coat. “Act
ually, I can’t go home. Things with my friends and family have gone weird, and I’m too drawn into this.”

  “Withdraw, then.” His tone softened. He probably thought she looked as pathetic as he was making her feel.

  “I can’t withdraw. Auran won’t let me.” She didn’t want to tell him that she actually cared what happened to him. He was right, she really shouldn’t.

  “He will not let you?” His tone was still soft, too soft in fact, almost sinister. “I swear to God, if he comes back here I’ll put an iron needle through his eyes and cut off his nose so he stops putting it into other people’s affairs.” He walked to where she was standing, and lifted her rucksack, holding it out to her with an air of finality. “Please do not put your death on my conscious again.”

  His words were a plea. As she reached up to grasp her bag their fingers touched. His skin against hers was an electric shock, but one she didn’t want to draw away from. She was aware of him like she was aware of her own body, of her own skin holding her together.

  “Again?” she asked.

  Her mind cast back to the rustling green gown. Alison wandering through the hallways of his home. She did not need him to answer, she saw the pain slam down on him, darkening his eyes like shutters blocking out the sun. A shiver of excitement ran down her spine.

  It was cold and cruel, but his pain was a reaction, it was making him feel as pathetic and useless as he made her feel. She wanted him to react to her. She wanted some sort of control before he sent her packing out into the night because he thought he didn’t need a hero, didn’t need her. She was sick of people not needing her.

  “I’m supposed to be this Alison woman right? Was that the name of your fiancé? She wasn’t named in the story, most women never get names in old stories.”

  “I’m glad. I can think of nothing worse that her name on their evil tongues, uttering my tale for entertainment.” He let go of the rucksack, drawing his hands away from her, breaking their connection. “She was everything I was not. Smart, understanding, humble, and grateful. I should have listened to her, but I was vain, selfish and proud. The real villain in the tale.”