Chapter 3
Ben’s pale face, white with shock, stared back at Fay, his mouth parted slightly. The words seemed to evade him and Fay, after all the times she imagined what she might say, was silent too. The anger was there, raw and simmering beneath the surface. The shock kept it smothered, for the moment, anyway. It was not what she expected for their meeting; she was too tame, and he wasn’t saying anything at all. He went to speak but her ear piece buzzed; tapping it she answered a call.
“Agent Childers speaking.”
“Hey, Fay, it’s Abe. The Council have organised Amber’s possessions to be transported to us. Also, the coroners report is here. Can you come back?”
“Heading back now. I’ve found nothing important anyway,” she say, glancing at Ben coolly, and hung up. She straightened up and turned to Ben. “Goodbye Ben.”
“Fay-“
“Don’t say anything. I’m trying really hard right now not to tear you and everyone in this town limb from limb. I am a monster, after all, aren’t I? That, and my partner wouldn’t be too pleased – neither would the bureau, really – if I did that. So, don’t talk, for both our sakes.”
His mouth shut firmly. Fay couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore, all the ugly memories bubbling to the surface. It was agonising. She turned away before she said anything else and stretched into a run. Slowly, the world and Ben and all the bad memories fell away – if only for a moment. Ben didn’t call out to her, didn’t even try to follow. It wasn’t surprising, though a tiny part of her wanted to because it meant he might feel ashamed. Guilty over his part of it. It wouldn’t heal the many wounds she had but it might’ve dulled the pain. Given her a reprieve from the ill-feeling.
Abe was sitting in the living room. The polished swords were sheathed and were propped up against the side of the armchair. His jacket was draped over the back of it. The whole scene made Fay smile as she stood there at the cusp of the living room. Abe, with his swords and his jacket and his relaxed air. It was just another mission to him. One more line on his resume. It didn’t weigh on his broad shoulders like it did Fay. That was simply the way he was though; unassuming, intelligent and carefree. Though one could say that the latter was attributed more to the fact he was immortal, rather than by a born trait. Which, unfortunately, created a quiet kind of cynicism about life; where some used it as a front, a kind of showy personality, it was honest with him. He simply didn’t see things with the kind of newborn wonder that many folks had. Everything had been seen, felt, and known before. Very little surprised him.
She cleared her throat as she stepped forward and took a seat. Before her there was a small yellow folder – Amber’s autopsy file. The reality of her friend’s death hit her. The smiling, witty exorcist who never seemed bothered by death or depravity – at least, she never let it show – was gone. The one person who Fay really aspired to become. The death left her floundering, angry too. Well, angrier.
“Have you read it?”
Abe nodded. “Yes. The fall did kill her but there were cuts and bruises indicating a struggle. Whoever pushed her – well – she gave them hell.”
“I wish she actually gave them that,” murmured Fay. “Guess I’ll have to.”
“The council will want them brought in.”
“They said dead or alive for the missing girl if it was found she was responsible. You really think they’ll be upset if I killed someone who killed one of ours?”
A good, perfect man out of a movie might’ve said Fay shouldn’t think like that – that she should try to be good and kind and not kill anyone. Abe wasn’t like that. He knew Fay’s tempestuous nature, a primal and fierce thing that wouldn’t be contained, no matter how hard either of them tried.
“I’ll have a body bag arranged then. Hopefully you’ll leave them in one piece,” he grumbled.
She smiled wolfishly. “No promises.”
It was Sunday night, the day before her first day back at school. As she stared at the clothes laid out on the bed, the packed bag by the door, she thought she might be sick. It wasn’t like she was afraid of tomorrow; rather, at the prospect of seeing people who she had once called friend and had seen them turn their backs on her. She was well aware of her own prickly temper, though she’d managed some restraint when she saw the pack. So, she supposed there was some hope for tomorrow.
So, she occupied the evening by going over files, reading what reports Amber had sent before her death, and going over her own gear. When she finally crawled under the duvet, burrowing deep amongst the pillowy covers, it was well after midnight. It was a half moon so feint silver light spilled in over her from the parted curtains, Normally, the light and the warm night would’ve kept her awake but she was tired, her mind worn down. The walls she’d built were eroded at the edges.
Sleep claimed her slowly; claws that languidly sunk deep into her mind, luring her into the darkness. It came with a song, a promising whisper of dark and delicious things, drawing her into a scene forming before her. A golden, shimmering garden with bright trees and colourful blooms, with winding paths that snaked here and there. Lounging amongst it all were men and women, swathed in shimmering white dresses and tunics with gold bands. Some hold goblets of wine, others ate lazily from platters of fruit floating in mid-air around them.
Even without having visited the place before Fay knew it. The name twisted like a ribbon through her mind.
Elysium…
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Fay spun around, her heart racing. Before her, a man. As tall as her, broad-shouldered and built like the warriors and Gods of his time. He was rugged but not overly attractive, not in that classic, statue-kind of way. His eyes were watchful, curious but wary.
“A dream. It’s just a dream,” Fay said.
“No, you’re quite here. Your soul anyway,” he informed her. “I brought you here.”
Fay stared at him. “Why? Who are you?”
He stepped up to her and stared down at her. “Andromeda.”
Pain shot through her skull, sending her crumpling to her knees. Darkness swam across her vision as she was hurtled from Elysium back to the mortal, slumbering world. She sat up with a silent cry, clutching her sweat-soaked chest, heart slamming against her ribs. Her mind clung to that singular word – Andromeda – but the tighter she squeezed the quicker it slipped through her fingers. A minute later it was forgotten and she was left staring at a blank wall, full of only the lingering feeling like a part of herself was missing.
She rode to school on the back of a motorbike that had been in the garage. It had been in the garage, hidden under a dusty tarp and, since Abe had been on the phone with the council. He’d offered the car but Fay wanted the bike. She had her license but she never had a chance to take her bike on missions. It gave her a sense of peace; a peace that dissolved the second she pulled up at school and climbed off, lifting her helmet to dispel the feeling.
She glanced around the school that looked, smelt and sounded no different. From the student flock that ambled towards the door, to the small clusters procrastinating as much as they could before class, there were familiar faces. Names were absent but she knew them, in a detached sort of way. In a way one might recognise a stranger who catches the same train as you every day for work.
Faces that as she stepped away from the bike started to notice her. At first, the few that caught sight of her, didn’t recognise her. Then, one by one, a few did. Low whispers trailed in her wake. She steeled herself as a couple became a dozen until it felt as though the entire school saw her. The scandalous student of two years ago. The bad child. She never knew what rumours circulated after she was run out of town. Going of the looks she realised she was in for a myriad of wild, outlandish stories. In some twisted way she was looking forward to the stories. The other versions of her life that, in someone’s mind at least, she lived. For better or for worse.
She stepped through the main doors and wasn’t afraid. Maybe two years ago the prospect of the school maybe wanting to tear her apart would’ve scared her. Certainly, she would’ve been terrified at being a pariah, at being bullied. It was kind of hard, however, to be afraid when you’d already seen the Underworld. As a hellhound you tended to be afraid of much darker things. Stuff that drove mortals insane.
So, her first hour or so was boring; getting what she needed from the front office, finding her locker and gathering her stuff for the first class. No one approached her, though plenty stared, and she half expected some dorky nerd, a new kid maybe, to approach her to become friends. No one did. When she reached her first class, English Literature, she was the first to arrive and managed to get a chair down the back. A few minutes later students trickled in, each one registering her presence after a few moments. A few worried looks were exchanged between them, followed by hushed whispers; whispers that, when a tall, leggy brunette strode in wearing designer clothes, shrivelled into silence. Their owners scampered like rats out of the way, retreating to the apparent safety of their desks.
The brunette in question, striking but not overly beautiful in a model sort of way – simply in the confidence one had with a lot of money way – strode up to Fay’s desk. She crossed her slender, olive-toned arms and drummed her fingers like she was bored.
“You’re in my seat,” she said sweetly.
Fay peered up, bored, from beneath her lashes. “No name on it.”
“It’s my seat,” she clarified.
Fay glanced around and saw several vacancies, their neighbours shooting pleading looks her way. “I’d say go make some friends with someone else in the room but they look like they’d rather gouge their eyes out. Still, I like this seat and unless you intend to physically drag me out – which I really don’t recommend – then I’m staying. Your sense of entitlement isn’t impressing or scaring me.”
“You’ll regret crossing me,” she snarled. “I know exactly who you are, Fay Childers.”
With that ugly sneer on her face she became familiar to Fay, whose eyes widened. “Daphne Montgomery? That you? You got…” Fay looked her up and down to be sure. “Taller.”
A blush bloomed across her cheeks. She spun around and stalked her way to a nearby desk. The girl next to her shrank away. The rest of the class, following a brief obligatory introduction of a story approved by her boss at the bureau and the council, was filled with scathing, murderous looks – well, Daphne’s attempt anyway. By the end the bell rang and students filed out. Once Daphne exited Fay got up, gathered her books into her satchel and went to leave. As she stepped through the doorway a flash of movement surged in the corner of her eye. She reacted. She grabbed the hand shooting forward to shove her into the wall, spun, and drove the assailant swiftly into the wall. Not obviously. To outsiders it simply looked like an intimate conversation.
Fay leaned in close. “You’re a werewolf, Daphne, but I can still break your arm if you do that again. I’m not the same little girl I was.”
“You’re a freak,” she hissed, though fear threaded her voice. “Nothing but a dirty hellhound.”
A low chuckle fell from Fay’s mouth. “You’re right, I am a freak and a hellhound but I’ve seen the Underworld. I’ll take great pleasure dragging your soul down for a visit if you want to play the cliché role of a queen bee bullying the new girl. Turn this into a horror.”
“You’re sick,” she said, trembling a little. “They should’ve killed you.”
Fay stepped back with a wicked grin. “They’re welcome to try but I do have a job to do. So, stay out of my way or I will take you for a little wander down below.”
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