Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Iwoke up after two hours of sleep, according to my wind-watch, the hands and numbers faintly glowing in the dark.
“Great,” I muttered, trapped in a groggy haze.
A nightmare dragged me out of sleep. A memory, the first of many nasties.
My memories haunted me in and out of my dreams, flooding back without a moment’s notice.
I’d returned to the date with a cute human man that fateful summer two years ago. A picnic on Primrose Hill in the sunshine, lots of cute smiles and lingering looks. I’d met him on the second day of my three-week London vacation, enjoying the picnic with him on the fourth.
Lewis. Gorgeous—the golden tones of his skin sparkling in the sunlight, eyes so blue they could be mistaken for sapphires, hair a gorgeous shade of brown.
We’d met at a bar. Talked for hours, went out for a burger afterward, talked more as we walked the streets of Soho, moving on to the South Bank, finally parting ways as the sun came up on Blackfriars Bridge.
A kiss.
An exchange of numbers—I’d bought myself a temporary earthly phone.
A second kiss.
“Your kisses taste like cherries,” he’d whispered against my lips.
The picnic date.
He’d made the spread of food himself, an absolute culinary magician. Wonderful flavors and colors lay on the blanket ready to be savored.
“I’m a chef at The Savoy,” he’d told me.
“Then you are a wonderful human to know.”
Lewis fed me grapes. We giggled. We flirted. The promise of more lingered in the air.
I knew we would go to bed.
I knew I wanted him to touch me.
And he did. We made love at his apartment near Camden Market. A small, cozy place with a balcony.
At dawn, still awake, we sat on the balcony drinking coffee, tingling with the pleasures of the night, watching the sunrise.
“What is that?” he’d asked.
A strange pink smoke manifested in the street, ribboning down every alleyway, penetrating open doors and windows, spreading quickly.
“It’s pretty.” Lewis got to his feet.
A tendril of the strange smoke drifted upward, joining us on the balcony. It snaked around me, shooting at Lewis in a last-minute surge.
Seeped into him.
He’d gasped. He’d stilled. He’d twitched and convulsed and fallen down dead, his eyes wide and staring, mouth slack.
“Lewis?” I’d said, the smoke moving into his apartment as if it were sentient. Hunting.
Those sapphires eyes became pink. His body twitched again, a groan gurgling in his throat.
Lewis sat up.
Lewis groaned.
Lewis tried to bite me.
I ran for my life, encountering many more like Lewis. Zombies. Dead humans vying for my flesh and blood.
As the days and weeks rolled by, chaos ravaged the world.
The pink smoke came at dawn every single day, as it still did, infecting humans, killing them, reanimating them.
Those without pure human blood—a fae like me, vampires, shifters and such like—were resistant to it.
Efforts were made to find a cure. But those efforts failed, governments falling, everything falling.
Dawn, as the pink smoke was aptly labeled, continued to unleash its death, wiping out most of the human population, turning the rest of us into a zombie food source.
I wasn’t sure of the statistics, the ratio of non-humans to humans, but the fact the zombies hadn’t starved or completely rotted out of existence yet was telling. They were well fed, most likely fueled by that cursed pink smoke.
I wasn’t a hundred percent sure on that latter point yet, but considered it to be likely. I mean, zombies came in various degrees of decay, yet they kept on snapping those jaws, slathering for flesh.
Yawing, I tried falling back to sleep, the sounds of the horde gone.
For now.
Leave me alone, I told my memories.
After about ten minutes, I drifted off again.
Movement woke me the second time.
My eyes shot open, my senses flicking to high alert. I scanned the darkness, reaching for my penlight and axe at the same time, slowly rising to my feet.
No six hours for me tonight.
I listened, right hand curling around the axe’s handle, the penlight clasped in my left fingers. My vision had somewhat adjusted to the murky darkness, but not enough for me to see anything clearly.
Footsteps. Slow. Calculating. The footsteps of a creature able to see me.
Vampire.
“Hello?” I spoke, thumb resting on the penlight’s button.
No answer but the footsteps paused.
I swallowed, considering a climb of faith back out of the makeshift door. But that would mean roaming for shelter again, possibly bumping into the horde again. I was too exhausted, despite this spike in adrenaline.
“Hello?” I tried again.
Nothing.
Pixie balls. Why this game? Vampires didn’t drink fae blood, only the pure human variety. A vampire once told me my blood stank of cat piss and curdled eggs, that she’d rather consume a vat of grease than have a drop of me on her tongue.
Rude yet comforting.
Had desperation changed things? With a lack of human sources, was eggy feline pee on the menu? Had the undesirable diet of rats and pigeons reached its limit?
Footsteps moved close to my left.
I clicked on the light, ready to fight this more sophisticated version of the undead. A beheading, sunlight, or a strike to the heart would end this stalker—the first option my only option.
There was no one there.
Movement to the right, then above me.
Crap.
I remained still. “I’m not here for trouble. I just want rest, shelter from the horde. Did you see the horde?”
Silence.
“Please. I’ll be gone at first light.”
“What’s your name?”
The woman appeared to my left as if she blinked into existence. I yelped, dropping the penlight.
She chortled but stayed put, the beam highlighting a pair of worn red boots and the bottom of dusty black jeans.
I picked up the penlight, dimming it and drawing it up to a black turtleneck jumper clinging to a scrawny frame and sunken features. Her complexion was as pale as moonlight, eyes a faint purple.
“I did see the horde,” she answered, spreading her cracked pink lips into a smile.
Deadly fangs flashed at me.
“It’s gone now, heading south,” she added, her voice soft, almost haunting.
My hands trembled, my fear undeniable. “Please, I don’t want any trouble.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Why would there be trouble?”
“I know sometimes trespassing can be an issue for vampires.”
“Not for me, fae. Not for me.”
“I didn’t see the warning symbol.”
“You wouldn’t here.”
“That’s good…” I swallowed, a little sweaty across my brow. “That’s good to know.”
“No harm done. But you can’t stay here.”
“Then I’ll leave. I—”
“I meant here on the concourse.”
“Oh.”
“I can offer you greater comfort downstairs, for a price of course.”
Survival tip for this world: Always carry marshmallows whenever you can. Vampires are as obsessed with them as they are human blood.
I retrieved one of two small bags from my rucksack.
“Will this be sufficient?” I held out the squishy treat.
Her eyes sparkled, a pink tongue licking her lips. “Wonderful. Did I hear the rustle of another packet?”
Ugh. “You did.”
“Then that is price for your stay.”
I gave them to her, making a mental note to scavenge for more.
How did you make marshmallows from scratch? Would it be too late to try to set up a marshmallow factory?
Not funny at all.
She cradled the packets to her chest. “These are in exchange for one night of rest here. Do you accept this?”
“I do.”
“Then you have my word for a peaceful night.”
A vampire’s word was their bond, just like a fae’s. It could not be broken, the contract ‘signed’ at the moment of verbal declaration.
Phew.
“I didn’t get your name, fae.”
Because I didn’t give it to you. “Orion. Orion Bloom.”
“Daria.” She didn’t offer a surname. “It’s nice to see a fae face again.”
“Again?”
“Follow me, Orion. We can walk and talk. Keep your little light on for safety.”
“Okay.”
Daria led me through an open ticket barrier toward the escalators, my penlight on the spicy setting.
Stars, the cobwebs were taking over.
“I knew a wonderful fae woman once,” she said as we made our decent, our boots causing faint echoes on the metal staircase. “Zandra Winters. She moved to London from Faery to marry the love of her life.”
“I knew her,” I replied. “We were casual friends during our teens.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“A tragic ending.”
Zandra Winters died before the apocalypse on her honeymoon in Italy. She and her husband decided to go skinny dipping in the sea at night after too many drinks. Got into serious trouble. She managed to save her husband but perished herself. A terrible waste of life because of one silly mistake.
“We played Gin Rummy together often,” Daria said.
“That’s nice. I can play cards with you if you fancy a game or two?”
I’d kill to play cards. Well, not kill, but certainly backflip for a session. Or sing. My pipes were golden. I could karaoke anyone under the table.
“Not right now,” she answered.
Curses.
We reached the bottom of the escalators.
“I have great respect and admiration for the fae. I’m glad to have you here, Orion. More than happy to help keep you safe for the night.”
At the expense of my marshmallows. “I appreciate it.”
We continued through the grubby tunnels, the once white tiles caked in grime, arriving on a platform where a stationary red-and-white tube train waiting with open doors.
A line of flickering candles illuminated the floor, stretching from one end of the platform to the other.
“Your home for the night,” Daria announced, clutching those marshmallows as if her life depended on them. “Inside the third carriage to the right is a bed.”
“A bed sounds wonderful.”
“No bathroom, I’m afraid.” She wrinkled her nose.
Yes, I was fully aware of my stale stink, my last shower was a month ago at a hotel with a working generator in its basement.
I’d lived with a couple of packless werewolves and a troll.
Zombies spoiled the fun after three days, forcing all of us to move on, my backside dropped quicker than a bag of stones tossed from an oak tree.
Pah! Who needed friends anyway?
Me. I do.
“Should you require the toilet, there is an old staff facility upstairs,” she added. “There is no running water, so hold your nose, do your business, and ignore the lack of flushing.” She chuckled.
“Do you have any power down here?”
“Yes. I have a generator to store and warm my food correctly.”
Yuck. “I see.”
“I would advise you not to leave this area for fear of coming across my blood harvesting operation.”
Yuck again. “Noted. Very clearly.”
“Good. I will leave you to sleep. I have no food, so don’t ask me.”
Apart from those squishies in your arms. “That’s fine. I have some things.”
“Then I shall return when it is time for you leave. Until morning, Orion Bloom.”
“Thank you again for your help.”
She walked away with her prize.
I found the stuffy carriage with the bed, the sheets in need of a wash but cleaner than me.
“Better than being outside,” I told the carriage brightly, turning my attention to prayer. “Thank you to the stars.” I clasped my hands together. “For keeping me alive, for keeping me strong.”
Simple words, totally appropriate. I didn’t need to give the stars a huge speech every night, just my appreciation.
As bad as things were, you could always find a nugget of joy. Tonight, that nugget was a disused Victoria Line train with the seats taken out and a rickety bed put in.
Lucky me.
Lucky, lucky me.