Blood and Feathers Page 3

  “I very much hope not.” Gwyn didn’t bother to look over at Mallory, instead keeping his eyes fixed on Alice. They were so very blue, this close. Blue like... well, like nothing Alice had ever seen. And it felt like they were staring straight into her. He was too close, too near – and that smell, that cold smell was overwhelming. She got the feeling it probably wasn’t aftershave after all. “You didn’t answer my question, though, did you?”

  “The wings? Fine. It’s a trick of perception. You can’t see air, can you, but you don’t doubt that it’s there. You’ve woken. You’ll find you see a lot of things differently now. That’s why we’re here. Is that good enough?”

  “Not that question.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Who are you, and what do you want?”

  “Who are we? I don’t know if you’d noticed, but... angels?”

  Gwyn’s eyebrows shot up, and Mallory snorted back another laugh. Alice was warming to him. Gwyn, she wasn’t so sure about.

  “That doesn’t tell me anything.”

  “Oh, for...” Gwyn backed away and rubbed his forehead with his hand. His wings vanished and the light from them faded. “Do you know how many men and women across the centuries have been visited by angels? No, don’t answer. It’s a rhetorical question. Let me tell you: thousands. And in all the centuries I’ve known, never have I been greeted with such arrogance, such... such...”

  “I told you, she’s just like her mother. She has her eyes, remember? She can see to the heart of things. Even you.” Mallory stood up, patting his jacket, feeling for something in the pockets... the flask, perhaps. Evidently, he found whatever it was; a look of relief settled across his face and he stopped patting. “She wants to know who we are, and what we want? I say we tell her. All of it.” He turned to Alice and pointed at the sofa he had just vacated. “Sit down. You’re going to want to soon enough, so you might as well get comfortable.” She sat. Gwyn had retreated to the window, and Mallory smirked at him. “Are you sulking?”

  “Watch your mouth. Remember who you’re addressing.”

  “As if I could forget.” There was something hidden behind those words, but before Alice could think about it any further, Mallory had perched himself on the arm of the chair opposite her and put one foot on the edge of the table. “Where would you like us to start?” he asked, kindly. Alice stared back at him, and he nodded. “Good point. Anywhere.

  “You know our names. And you’re a smart girl. You’ve seen his wings. Mine aren’t quite so impressive. It would be a bit of an anticlimax, frankly, if I was to join in with all this, so I won’t. But they’re there. Buy me a drink, maybe, and...”

  “Mallory!” Gwyn snapped.

  “Sorry, sorry. You know what we are. And we’ve already told you we knew your mother.”

  “Did she know that you were...?” Alice stumbled over the words, although even as they came out of her mouth, she realised how they sounded.

  Mallory blinked at her. “Think, Alice. Think.”

  “Oh.” She felt cold.

  “There you go.”

  “But that’s...”

  “Impossible. Yeah. I get that. Almost as impossible as Feathers over there.”

  “But...”

  “If you want to have a conversation, you’re going to need to start finishing those sentences, Alice. Otherwise, I suggest you sit tight and listen. When I’m done, you can ask me as many questions as you want. Provided you can actually get them out.” He paused, but Alice shook her head and sat in silence.

  “So. Angels 101. Real, obviously. Not all harps and haloes. Again: obviously. We’re not so big on the sitting around on clouds singing praises, either. We’re soldiers.”

  “Soldiers?”

  “Back with the talking again, Alice?”

  “Sorry.”

  “That’s my girl. Soldiers. Like I said, you’re smart. And if I know your father, you’ve read the books, haven’t you?” He pointed to a tall bookshelf in the corner of the room, stuffed with battered paperbacks. Alice nodded mutely. Satisfied, Mallory continued. “‘And there was war in Heaven...’ Ring a bell? I bet it does. And you know what? It’s all real. The Morningstar, the Fall. All of it. They’re down there – literally down there. And they want out. They want to be in charge. They’ve been trying to get out for thousands of years. Our job is to keep them down there, out of the way, by any means necessary.” He reached behind his back, and pulled out a sturdy-looking handgun, which he turned over in his hands before tucking it back into his belt. Alice’s eyes bulged.

  “You don’t smell like he does,” she blurted.

  Mallory looked a little flustered, and opened and closed his mouth. Obviously he didn’t have an answer to that, and he looked towards Gwyn for help. Gwyn folded his arms, enjoying Mallory’s discomfort.

  “Mallory and I differ in several respects,” he said. “Apart from, as you say, our... scent, Mallory has already mentioned the difference in our wings...”

  “Compensating!” Mallory coughed into his fist.

  Gwyn shot him a dirty look and continued. “What he hasn’t told you is that his wings have been clipped. What you’re looking at, Alice, is a perfect example of an Earthbound.”

  “An Earthbound?” Alice asked, glancing from Gwyn to Mallory. He looked uncomfortable, even embarrassed.

  “Suspended. You see, if an angel brings disgrace upon himself, his general may choose to exile him. His wings are clipped and he is banished to Earth to serve out his sentence. Such angels are known as Earthbounds. Mallory is one of them.”

  “And lucky for me, I get you to keep an eye on me.” Mallory growled, then turned back to Alice. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Honestly. I...” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “I was under a lot of pressure and I made a couple of bad choices.” He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure you, of all people, can understand that.”

  It was Alice’s turn to feel uncomfortable. She didn’t like what Mallory was suggesting. It was like he knew things that had happened a long time ago; things she didn’t want to talk about. Eager to change the subject, she pointed at Gwyn. “So if you’re an Earthbound, what’s he, then?”

  “‘He,’” said Gwyn, “is a Descended.”

  “Which unfortunately means he gets to be the boss of me,” Mallory said. He slid further down into the chair, not taking his feet from the table. “All angels, when they come down here, are known as Descendeds. I mean, when you’re up there, you’re just... angels, so. Every Earthbound – and there’s more of us than he’d have you believe, thanks – is assigned to the charge of a Descended. They... supervise, make sure we’re behaving ourselves. And I’m afraid that as you get me looking after you, you get him too. It’s a twofer.”

  “Twofer?”

  “Two for one. Where was I?” He looked up at Alice, and smiled when he saw the blank expression on her face. “Too much?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You got questions?”

  “I suppose: what’s this all got to do with me?”

  “Ah.” Mallory pulled out the flask again and took a swig. “You want...? No. You don’t, do you?” He screwed the top on and pocketed it. “Your mother was an angel, Alice. What do you think that makes you?”

  Alice didn’t want to think about that, not at all. It was enough that she had two men standing in front of her talking about angels, and that one of them had a gun and a hip-flask. She had so far, while they were talking, been devoting a great deal of energy to not thinking about what any of this had to do with her, or her mother. As it was, she was having quite enough trouble absorbing everything that had been said. It was all so... odd. And yet, at the same time, that little voice in the back of her head told her everything would be alright. All she had to do was believe it. Because it was the truth. How ridiculous was that? “I can’t be an angel. I’m a librarian. That’s absurd.”

  “You’re not an angel,” Gwyn said pointedly.

 
Alice stared at him. “Not... then...?”

  “You’re only half. It’s likely that the angel half is dominant, which is why we’re here. But you’re still only half.”

  “Which in and of itself is still a big deal, Alice.” Mallory swung his feet down from the table. “You might want to take most of what he says there with a pinch of salt. You’re half-angel, which means that you have gifts. You always have done, it’s just that you never knew how to use them. Never even knew they were there – not if your dad didn’t tell you anything about them.”

  “Did he know? About my mother, I mean?”

  “Not now.” Mallory paused. “We don’t have time to tell you all of this, not now. There’s a reason we’re here, and we can’t tell you every last detail now, however much you want to know it. We will tell you, but it’ll have to wait.”

  “You said something was coming earlier, in the street.”

  “It is. And it’s coming for you. Your father’s job was to keep you protected, keep you hidden until we came to find you – until you were ready.”

  “So I’m ready now?”

  “Are you kidding? You’re far from ready, but things have changed. They’ve found you, and we’re almost out of time.”

  “Before what?”

  “Before they get what they want: ontrol. Forever.” He pointed at the floor, and the look in his eyes told Alice everything she needed to know.

  “BUT WHY ME?” Alice asked, throwing clothes into a bag. She was in her room, packing everything she could reach. Mallory hadn’t been specific, he’d just told her to pack “stuff.”

  “Why not you? You’ve obviously got a talent the Fallen think will be useful to them, or one that they don’t want on our side.” Mallory was perched on the banister outside her bedroom door. Sitting there, he reminded her of a large, slightly scruffy bird.

  “So what now?”

  “You come with us. There’s somewhere safe we can take you, somewhere they won’t be able to get at you in a hurry. Then we can talk. We’ll tell you everything, I promise. And we’ll see what you can do.”

  “Like a test?”

  “No. No test. But all angels have their gifts, you included.”

  “What about you? What are yours? Oh... do the Earthbounds still...?”

  “I still have my gifts, yes.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m a healer. I fix things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like anything. The lightbulbs, earlier? That was me.”

  “And people?”

  “People too. People are... harder.” The smile was gone.

  “Time to go.” Gwyn’s voice drifted up from the hall. There was a finality in it that made Alice stop with her hand halfway to her bag. Until that moment, it hadn’t dawned on her that she would be leaving. Really leaving. She couldn’t stay, she knew that. Regardless of what Gwyn and Mallory said about something “coming,” there would be questions.

  “We’re going. Alice!” Gwyn again.

  Mallory stuck his head around the door. “We have to go. Anything else you need, you pack it now. You won’t be coming back.”

  “No. I think I’m done.” Alice looked around her room. Her bed, her things, they all seemed so alien now, as though they belonged to someone else.

  Mallory held out his hand for her bag. “You travel light. Good. But are you sure that’s all you want?”

  “Let’s just go, okay?”

  “If you’re sure.”

  Alice was already at the bottom of the stairs. Gwyn was at the front door, peering out into the darkness of the street. He looked like he was waiting for something. Listening. All Alice could hear was the rain, but Gwyn obviously had better hearing. He pointed at her shoes. “Get those on, now. They’re close.” Alice pulled on her trainers and tied the laces as quickly as she could with shaking hands. Mallory was suddenly next to Gwyn, her bag thrown over his shoulder and one hand moving towards the gun tucked into his belt.

  “Time to clear up, I think,” he said, quietly, and Gwyn nodded. Brushing past her, he opened the cupboard under the stairs. “The fuse box, is it in here?”

  “Why?”

  “Answer the question.”

  “Yes. But why?”

  “Covering our tracks.” Gwyn reached inside the cupboard, and as Alice watched, he placed his palm flat on the cover of the fuse box. There was a horrible hissing, fizzing sound and a wisp of smoke curled out from his fingers.

  “Let’s go, Alice.” Mallory was on the doorstep, beckoning to her. “Let him finish.”

  “What’s he...?”

  “Never mind. Keeping you safe.”

  He took hold of her sleeve and pulled her out of the hallway, marching down the drive and across the road – watching the ends of the street the whole time. They stopped under a tree, and Alice looked back at the house. A white glow was spreading, ever so slowly, from the windows; seeping out into the driveway, reflected in the rain on the tarmac. Mallory muttered something under his breath, and put his hand on her shoulder just as the house exploded.

  Windows blew out in a storm of glass. The door slammed shut and then open again, rocking on its hinges. Car alarms sounded and a blast of hot air knocked Alice sideways. Mallory’s fingers tightened on her shoulder and held her up. A huge plume of smoke drifted up into the sky, and Gwyn strode out of the fire, straightening his jacket. He looked immaculate. Alice couldn’t say she was surprised.

  “Let’s get moving. Someone will notice that,” he said.

  Mallory snorted. “You think?” He shouldered Alice’s bag again and slid an arm around her, drawing her to him. “Alice?”

  “I...” She stared at the flames.

  “Alice. Now.”

  He pulled at her. Suddenly it felt like his arm round her shoulder was not for comfort. He was shielding her from something, hiding her. Gwyn walked off down the road, his blond hair reflecting the light from the fire. Mallory pulled her with him, and Alice saw movement out of the corner of her eye. At the far end of the street, she was sure she had seen someone standing at the end of a driveway, but when she twisted her head and looked again, they were gone. She huddled closer to Mallory, catching the smell of his leather jacket and wondering how it was that he was still bone-dry while the rain was dripping off her nose, and dismissed it. It had been a shadow. It was just... perhaps it had been a trick of the light – a car in the glow of the fire, maybe – but for a moment, it had almost looked like a pair of red eyes: eyes which shone in the darkness, and were fixed upon her...

  But there was nothing in the darkness. Only rain and fire, and the past.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Picking up the Pieces

  “ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

  “What, Gwyn? You’ve got a better idea, I’d love to hear it.” Mallory nudged a cardboard box along the floor with his toe; the box clanked.

  “There is no way that I can condone her staying here. It’s appalling,” Gwyn looked around him with an expression of utter disdain. Mallory gave no indication he heard him and shoveled a stack of books off the sagging sofa and onto the floor. There was a faint squeak and a scurrying sound that Alice chose to ignore.

  Mallory’s home, such as it was, had come as something of a shock. While she wasn’t entirely sure what she had been expecting, a glorified broom cupboard had not been it – never mind a glorified broom cupboard at the back of a church. It was still raining outside, and as Mallory bustled about, clearing rubbish – and, thought Alice, a quite extraordinary number of empty bottles – a large, cold drip landed squarely on the back of her neck, making her jump. Mallory looked round. “You might want to take a couple of steps to the left. And if you could scoot that bucket across...” He pointed at a red fire bucket next to her feet. Alice obliged, and sat down on the sofa, hoping she was out of the way. It creaked, and a cloud of dust rose into the air. Gwyn was still taking in the place with a look of disgust, but now he was touching things: picking up a mug here, moving a newspaper there.

 
“You’re a slob, you know that?”

  “Been a little busy, thanks. Or had you not noticed?”

  “That’s no excuse.”

  “No excuse for what?”

  “For living like this.”

  “Like what, exactly?”

  “Like... this.” Gwyn poked at a pile of old pizza boxes. It collapsed, spilling mould-ridden crusts onto his shoes.

  Mallory shrugged. “You get used to it. There’s been a few things I’ve had to get used to over the years. But you know that already.”

  The words were sharp, meant to cut, but Gwyn didn’t seem to pay any attention and instead tried to rub a spot of ancient cheese off his shoe and onto a threadbare rug.

  Feeling like she was intruding, Alice coughed. “So what happens now?”

  “Now,” said Mallory, finally giving up on tidying, “we lie low for a while, and try to work out what to do with you.”

  “What to do with me? You mean you don’t know?”

  “Well, not exactly.”

  “I thought there was some kind of plan...?”

  “There was,” Gwyn cut in. He swept a good inch of dust and muck off a narrow wooden chair and perched on the back of it. Not the seat, but the back. Alice found herself slightly irritated by this, as though it was a deliberate affectation of his. Oblivious, Gwyn smoothed down his jacket. “The plan was that we would come for you when you were ready. Which, as we have already told you, you aren’t. We ran out of time, and we needed to get to you before they did.”

  “Who?”

  “Alice, there are more things in Heaven and Earth...”

  “Oh, come off it!” Mallory interrupted. “Not Shakespeare. Don’t be so bloody pretentious. Or obscure.”

  “Hamlet,” Gwyn said, “is not obscure.”

  “Whatever.” Mallory shrugged again. “He’s talking about the Fallen, Alice. The Fallen got wind of who you were, and where you were, and they were coming for you.”

  “And my father?”

  “You saw what they did to him. And this is going to sound bad, but believe me, if they’d taken him alive... I’m sorry, but that’s not something I would want on my conscience.”