Ava Redman

Eros and Marcus watched Candor dig into his food with verve.             Finally when he’d dabbed his mouth with his napkin, setting it aside did he finally speak. “I’m ready to be a part of this mission.” Candor held up his hand when Marcus shuffled, “I know my seeing you was not a coincidence and that eventually we have crossed paths, would have had to work together again,” he gave Marcus an especially hard glare. Candor chewed on his bottom lip, ignoring the other words he wanted to say.             “There’s no point in waiting for you two to manipulate me into working with you. I’m here, make use of me but know this,” he leaned forward. “Things will not be like they were the last time,” Candor looked to Marcus, unflinching when he sat back.             Eros didn’t look to Marcus for confirmation when he said, “Done.”             Something like an exhale sighed between them all.             Eros spoke first. “I certainly missed having you here to add at least some convers

“I was thinking the same thing.”             Eros and Marcus looked up to where Candor stood. “It wasn’t that hard to find you,” he shrugged, his hands in his tailcoat. Candor seated himself at their table. He hadn’t needed to elicit the attention of the staff, hadn’t needed to explain why he wasn’t staying at the hotel. He’d simply flicked a switch in the host’s mind and made her unsee him, made himself blend in as somebody else.             Candor unhooked his black scarf, unbuttoning his jacket, placing it with deft fingers on the back of his chair. “The Council only provides the best for its two most treasured operatives.” It was hard to detect whether it was disdain underlying his words.             Marcus Ambruge did not respond, move or indicate discomfort in any way.             Eros was smooth as he drawled in that seductive voice, “It’s been an age since it’s been the three of us. As I recall you had a penchant for such luxury.”             Candor rose from his sea

Eros and Marcus hadn’t said much following the incident in the shop.             They’d spoken in brief sentences, alluding to what they’d learned but neither had wanted to openly voice that there might be another Portal.             It wasn’t until the next morning when they were seated in the restaurant for breakfast that they finally acknowledged each other and the task at hand. The opulent golden drapes dappled off some of that rare English sun. The hotel was fashioned in Victorian luxury and surprisingly not dated, simply historic and empirical. As much as Eros had insisted on the finer things in life, he’d taken a liking to the hotel and subsequently hated it as well. It somehow came with a price tag more in line with businessmen and aristocrats. The latter had yet to make an appearance. Eros scrolled through his tablet, taking advantage of the wifi when their hometown was a dead spot for such things. It had been intentional so as to keep the city and its vast array of sec

It was a cheap bed and breakfast with lace doilies and plastic tablecloths.             The smell of grease had at least been the same, as Enda, Rover and Annandale all lumbered in and set down at a table unceremoniously, their elbows sticking to the plastic.             “I don’t like this,” Enda voiced. “Did you see the way they treated us?”             Rover grumbled, “It was like the first week of school n we were the new kids.”             Candor sat at the head of the table and managed a polite smile as the waitress placed laminated menus before them. “They’ve always been like that,” his voice was quiet, restrained as he remembered things he didn’t want to. He wiped away a bead of sweat on his forehead. Seeing Marcus Ambruge had set his heart into overdrive. He’d made a point to steer clear of the man for years, had finally succeeded when his wife had died. Marcus and that wretched woman had given him peace; a reprieve as he’d mourned and now that time was up. Soon enoug

They’d gone round the back of the antique shop.             Candor had made quick work of erasing the last ten minutes from the three demons. He’d been surprised when Marcus had stepped in to do Ramon.             Marcus’s powers were different, subtler, his was the power of persuasion and he had persuaded Ramon to forget any of this had ever happened. Watching him at work, as Marcus touched his long fingers to the man’s temple; it was an art form in itself.             In comparison Candor had touched the demons briefly, hesitant and agitated.             Even Enda and Annandale had paused to watch Marcus.             Eros flicked off an invisible piece of dirt from his nails, “Let’s head back to the hotel and mull over our findings,” he inclined his head.             Enda grumbled, “Why’d you get a hotel when we get”-             “Enda quiet,” it was Candor who spoke. Eros and Marcus both faced him suddenly brows raised. “Don’t be so shocked that every once in a while

“The jar is left over from the power trade a few years back,” Candor said. Given the nature of the information he’d gleaned he’d waited until it was just the three of them. Marcus, Eros and Candor. He didn’t have to ask whether this information was too sensitive for the Travelling Guardians. He’d either be made to make them forget if he told them or worse.             Unless Marcus Ambruge stepped in to do it. The African giant rarely did his own dirty work these days. No. They’d drain Candor’s power before their own. It was the Guardian way. 

Candor sent in Enda and Rowan as Eros requested.             He waited meanwhile, watching the shopfront.             He’d taken less than a minute to slice through all three demons minds and ascertain what they knew of the demon Oracle and the glowing jar. Erasing their memories would be harder, he’d have to touch them physically to do it and it would be draining. A chill breeze flitted along the curves of the double Decker buses snicking around is neck as he pulled his jacket close, the cuffs up.             The wind had turned direction suddenly like an unwelcome tide, the scent of stale air clung to his nose. If he were the suspicious type he’d consider it a warning from one of the gods. Candor had his reasons for not subscribing to such legends. He took one final look at the bustling street and stepped towards the back alley where the others waited for him. 

“Well don’t I feel famous,” Eros slid his knives with equal precision back within their clasps around his torso, melting to his body with ease. His suit was hardly ruffled in the fight, his hair only a little swept out of place.             He ran a hand through his hair as he surveyed the ex-Guardian.             “You knew I would do this,” Ramon said.             “You didn’t think we didn’t come prepared?” Eros stepped around the bodies still inanimate. He touched Marcus’s shoulder, tracing a line down his bare skin. The dark giant blinked out of his reverie. “Thank you, Eros,” he looked to the shop owner. “Ramon,” he nodded. “You used me,” Ramon said. “Consider it a strategic manoeuvre,” Eros stepped around the demons lowering their weapons careful not to touch them directly. “Using your power saved me from using mine.” He glanced at Ramon over his shoulder, “You know how draining manipulating time is. I knew you would only be able to do it once and”- “If I used it, y

Everything went utterly still.               The three demons, Marcus and Eros froze midair, a sword in mid-slash from Marcus, a spear careening part way through a glass shelf. All around shards of glass hung like suspended raindrops in the air, shimmering with kinetic energy.             “I warned you,” Ramon lowered his hands.             The three demons were scattered in the shop, mid snarl, mid lung, mid hiss.             Ramon stepped forward towards the demons, towards Marcus. He lifted his hand to Marcus’s temple but before he could touch that smooth dark skin a voice chilled down his spine.               “Marcus was right,” Eros lowered his sword mid strike. “You were one to watch.”             Ramon blinked, once, twice. He lowered his hand, “You’re the Timekeeper.”

“I’m warning you,” Ramon yelled.             “Warn them,” Eros shot back swiping his blade. “They started it.”             Eros and Marcus had fought demons for years, had battled different types, different variations on evil. This fight was not beautiful, far from it, but Eros had seen far worse and trapped within close proximity made it hard to exercise some of his more powerful moves. If anything, it was just another training session where he could let go of those tensions that had built between him and Marcus.             “I said STOP!”             Ramon slammed his hands together and the world froze. 

Eros rotated his blades that grin whispering of a long forgotten pleasure. It had been an age since he’d had any fun, any unsanctioned fun. “Now remember,” he purred. “The friendly shop keeper would like us not to wreck his shop.”             Ramon swore.             One of the demons answered with two plunging fists to the counter, glass erupting in his wake. The jar had been slipped into the pocket of the first demon earlier. Another demon grabbed an ancient blade in the cabinet box swiping it out.             “That’s Atarian bronze,” Ramon yelled. “I’m warning you all, not to mess with my shop. Most of my items are cursed so don’t touch nothing.”             Eros’s smile turned wicked as the two demons moved. He shot his blades through the air. Knives sliced. The demon’s knife went flying.             Marcus and the other demon still fought.             Eros ducked and weaved nearly hitting a cabinet behind him. One demon smacked the cabinet with a satisfying crunch.

Eros opened up his slate grey suit with practiced boredom. Hugging his torso were two engraved Valhalla blades. Identical curved blades that sang through the air as he whirled them with the precision and lithe like a fish through water. The feel of them, solid, hard Valhalla steel shot a euphoric sensation through him. The corners of his mouth tugged up, “It was the worth the trouble of smuggling these after all,” his accent inflected slightly from the long forgotten English prep school. He hated London with a passion but oh did it feel good to be home. 

A hiss erupted from the demon as it snapped out a spear from its jumper, snapping out and lengthening to a silver honed glimmering stick inscribed with dozens of symbols. Eros tilted his head to the side in admiration, “Where can I get one of those?”             “It is the spear of my people,” the demon hissed. “And you have offended them dearly. You must both pay.”             “You mean the demon Oracle,” Eros lifted his hands in surrender. “I had nothing to do with that.” He shrugged and cocked his head toward Marcus. “He did.” “Thank you, Eros,” Marcus said he remained un-moving as he said, “Are you bounty hunters or”-             The demons clicked their tongues, “Beware Guardian, we are marked for a reason.” The first lunged forward and swung the spear too fast to see. A flash of movement, a flicker of color as the two moved, deflecting, piercing. The spear plunged into a glass shelf sending it shattering through the air.             Marcus Ambruge was a dark blur of

Chapter 7 Eros let the anger simmer like quicksilver along his veins. Any moment now he’d have to use his power and do what he always did in times like these. Instead he turned to Marcus, the one in charge.             “Not yet,” the African God answered his unspoken question. Marcus Ambruge opened his suit jacket revealing an armada of weaponry. So he’d been right about Aslow’s pocket. There was no other way he could have concealed all that beneath a tailored suit like that. Marcus Ambruge let out a smile that only a beast could pull off.             Curved blades wrapped around his middle.             A Heathen sword dead center in his chest.             Infinite stars and daggers and other trinkets lined other parts of him.             Marcus Ambruge was an armory of weaponry marking his body.             Eros cocked his head to the side, “I thought you were just happy to see me.” 

Eros felt the flicker of anger, though he could not be sure it had come from him or Candor who still watched on the sidelines. He cocked his head to the side, “A family heirloom,” he shrugged placing his hand in his pocket towards the silver pocket watch. “Been in the family for years, mum was a Banshee”-             “Liar,” it hissed.             The other two lowered their hoods.             Three marks and two marks. 

Ramon said nothing at first, his mouth dropping, his words incoherent. Beads of sweat dripped along his brow, down the side of his face, he’d turned white and red all at the same time. Ramon looked to Eros then back at the jar, his mouth gaping like a fish.             The other two men pulsed towards the first one forming a triangle.             The demon made no move towards the jar. “Where did you get this?” it hissed again, its forked tongue flicking out.             Eros made a face, but said nothing.             Ramon’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he blinked over the demon’s shoulder to Eros “I didn’t, they did.” There were more words waiting on his tongue that he didn’t say.               Following that gaze, the man lowered his hood revealing tattoos marked along his face in angry lines, five marks in total.  One for every Guardian he’d killed.             Its reptilian features shone out, its eyes turning to luminous slits.             

Eros glanced up just as the first man turned back and met his stare.             The other two split off studying the shelves around them, the weapons in the far away cabinets. Eros’s gaze slid to the jar barely wrapped in the fabric on the counter. He’d left it there rather than take it when Ramon had slid it towards him. The fabric covered the jar, hiding the power swirling from within.             Eros placed the fashion magazine down with a practiced grace. He stepped forward to the counter, his attention to the clocks along the walls, his hand moved swift as he stepped away once more and shrugged. “Thought it was a fake.”             The man shot him a cutting glance. Eros responded with an innocent smile. “Come here often?”             The man did not reply as he turned his gaze to the counter once more where the jar sat, its glittering colours in full view. It pulsed from red to purple and blue.             Just as the man’s hand reached towards it, Ramon entered on

The three men looked to Eros, “I’m just waiting,” he stepped back and let them pass towards the counter. Eros took a seat in the corner and flipped open a discarded fashion magazine dated back a few years. He hummed a tune and gripped the magazine in a death grip all too aware that he’d taken his hand off the silver pocket watch.             Ramon smacked his hand on the counter, “What can I do for you?”             The three wore identical slate grey hoodies, hoods up, broad shoulders, moving as one singular unit until the first one and shortest slid a piece of paper across the counter.             Ramon took the paper. “Oh right, I see.” He looked up running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “Got one of those in the back, it’s the last one so you’re in luck.” He shot a glance to Eros and Marcus before he said, “I’ll just go get it now,” though he seemed reluctant to leave them alone. 

Eros shrugged. “You’re in the process of getting us something and we’re simply waiting here”-Ramon had no time to argue the ridiculousness of the idea before the bell above the shop front rang and in stepped three beings all hooded, their faces obscured. Their attention went to Eros and Marcus straightaway before stepping in towards the counter.             Marcus hung back inspecting items on the shelves in a darker part of the shop. He was furthest from them obscured by the shadows to hide his elongated skull.             His reputation as Guardian had long preceded him, as his aura often proceeded him. All these three demons would need was to smell the air too close to him, sense the otherness in him, in Eros and know all was not as it seemed.             Then again, Ramon’s clients were of the other persuasion.             They wouldn’t know they were Guardians. Only different. Like they were.             I don’t like this, Candor telepathed, as he watched from Eros’s

Eros said nothing as Marcus moved away from the shop front. Marcus Ambruge turned to Eros, “We wait and see what they want.”             Eros nodded his finger pressed firmly to his watch.             Ramon shot a glance between the two, “Er, my clients are usually private, they don’t like viewers. Yous two bein here ain’t gonna go down well.”             “How often do you get clients?” Eros said.             Ramon shuffled, “I deal in rare, hard to find antiques”-             “From questionable sources,” Eros finished. Ramon glared at him and pointed a finger, he opened his mouth but was cut off. “How many?”             “A few a day, rare when I have more than one at a time.” Ramon shook himself and said, “Yous betta go, my clients don’t like spectators.” 

“It looks like you’ve got guests,” Eros said, his finger pressing the tip of his silver pocket watch. The air thrummed like a static wave, turning the hairs on Eros’s neck straight up. They had moments to decide what to do. Moments that could alter their path.             Ramon shrugged glancing between them, “chances are they’re just clients. I deal business with all kinds,” though the beads of sweat pooling on his face indicated something else. “I don’t want trouble,” he added reading Eros’s gaze.             “I noticed you cater to demons,” Eros hissed shooting Ramon a narrowed stare.             Ramon replaced the fabric on the jar and pushed it across the counter, “Guess you got what you wanted, don’t gotta sugar coat you don’t like what I do. All I can tell you is dat I served my time as a Guardian, was made to do some awful shit n now I don’t care what side pays. Guys gotta make a livin somehow and Guardians and human supes don’t pay much compared to demons.”          

Chapter 6 Guys, we’ve got company, Candor telepathed. He shot an image of three men heading down the street, their hoods up, and their sunglasses obscuring their faces. It was the glow that surrounded them, the hot stink that had alerted Candor to their otherness.               The glow, the stink of magicke.             No doubt used to blend into the human crowd. 

Marcus and Eros exchanged a look. “You know something we don’t?” Eros breathed. Something in his quicksilver blood stirred and Eros get a firm finger to the hot metal in his pocket. This meeting had taken quite a turn.             “Scuse me if I didn’t open with this but I wasn’t sure until now you were connected to it,” Ramon surveyed them both. He leaned in, lowering his voice and shooting a glance to the rest of the shop as if the walls had ears. “A certain book arrived this morning.” It took Eros a moment to comprehend what the man was saying. He sized up the tremor in his Adam’s apple, the bead of sweat that had pooled in the base of the man’s scruff neck. And if Eros listened closely, very closely straining his ears he could make out a heartbeat that was faster than before. Ramon was an antiques dealer, he knew his legend, his myth and all the histories of Aurelia and the other demon cities. He knew things even they could not, but he knew there was only one book anyone eve

“What kind of powers?” Eros said.             Ramon shrugged, “Ain’t no way to know for sure.” Ramon leaned forward. “All I know is you’re gonna need it where you’re goin.” 

“Ramon, we came for information, by which we will pay handsomely,” Marcus dropped a pouch on the counter, a klink sounding in response.             Ramon wrinkled his nose at the pouch then set it on a brass scale to the side. The scale fell down with a dull thud. The man let out a dry laugh, “I had Guardians pegged for cheapskates but you’re paying almost as good as the other side.”             He sucked in a breath through his teeth and pulled on a velvet pair of gloves. He picked up the jar as it turned to a soft pink. “What you’re looking at is an Anima, the demons use them to collect powers. Well,” he stood up with the jar in his grip. “It’s a rare item and there are few that can wield its powers or put the powers within it.”             “Some can contain souls,” Ramon grunted. “A few species keep their ancestors in jar and let them out when they need advice,” he let out a low laugh. “Wish I could do the same.”             “What demons?” Marcus said.             Ramon s

Ramon leaned forward, his elbows on the counter, “What of the demon Oracle?”             Eros shrugged, “Nothing, at least, not anymore.”             Ramon let out a hiss like a tire. “You’re meddlin with things you don understand. An eye for an eye don’t cut it with demons. They’ll be after blood n it won’t be long fore they come here.” Ramon stood upright. “Won’t be long fore another Oracle replaces that one. It’s a cycle, Guardians got there’s, demons got there’s.”             Eros sighed, “You forget we’re from Aurelia, we know more than anyone the consequences of such actions.” Ramon seemed like a man of few words and yet as he talked, Eros had to wonder if it was a ploy to steal time, a ploy to make sure they remained distracted.             Eros searched for that wave, a silent chime in his mind;             Candor, any demons in range? he telepathed.             None, Candor responded, though he sensed the same weariness from the telepath.

Eros placed it on the muddied glass counter between them.             Ramon said nothing as he drew on a pair of miniature spectacles deftly pulling away bits of the material all the while not touching the object tucked within.             Even before the last slip of material fell away the colours flicked and changed, swirling liquid like a school of fish the size of ants swarming like an ocean current.             Ramon’s voice was hoarse. “Where did you find this?” Rather than answering Ramon, the two simply stared him down.             The man squared his shoulders, revealing his teeth, “I can’t help you if I don’t know where it came from. I’ve seen one of dese before but”-Ramon fixed them each with a stare as a low growl pulsed from his throat.             Eros flicked his gaze to Marcus.             Marcus nodded.             “The demon Oracle had it in her possession,” Eros had a firm grip on the thing in his pocket, running the top of his finger along the chain

* Eros had only heard of the antiques dealer.             Ramon was squat, broad, built like a man who’d fought in a war before. His gaze was shrewd and sharp, his shirt beaded with sweat stains, his face patched in wrinkles. Worst of all, he was Ex-Guardian and a traitor to his kind.             Eros let his hand find the silver cool metal in his pocket, as his fingers grasped the solidity an instant calm swept through him. He watched as the Ex-Guardian took them both in. He made no move as Marcus flipped the Open sign to Closed.             “You think you’re the first to come in here and do that?” Ramon’s voice was gruff as if from lack of use. “I get one of youslot every week,” his gaze shot between the two. “Though they’re not as good lookin.”              “Ramon,” Eros said.             “Ain’t nobody called me that in years,” he shot back.             Marcus came away from the windowed shop front until his blunt gaze was aimed at the man behind the counter. “We re

Sweat beaded along his brow as Candor fixed his attention to Eros and his view of the shop. What little Candor knew of Ramon flashed before his mind. The man was an antiques dealer of the supernatural kind. It made sense as Candor’s gaze shot through Eros and around the cramped shop front. To a normal it might appear as a simple antique shop with chime clocks on the walls, ticking away and an overflow of brass and mahogany furniture. But Candor spotted the rare ghost wildcat fur above the shop front. He observed the real seeing crystal amidst a pile of glass. He noted the gold insignia's of various ancient and extinct demon families. Ramon was human and yet he dealt business with both human supernatural’s and demons. Candor swallowed down the cold sensation in his throat. It was his job as Guardian to protect him no matter what. He bit down on the inside of his cheek and focused on Eros.

* Candor waited with baited breath.             He watched through Eros’s minds-eye. He couldn’t watch through Marcus’s. Years ago he’d agreed to set up a boundary so tight, so confined like a barbed-wire wall around Marcus’s mind to protect him from…invasions.             Candor swallowed, he hadn’t understood it back then, now he knew the invasion would be from him and his son. The human Oracle had to have known he’d have a son who would one day rival his skills as a telepath.             No. no. no.             He dug his nails into his palms to the point of blood. They didn’t know about Nero, not yet at least. He’d never let them find out. Besides, he still couldn’t be sure about the boy. Those things that had happened could’ve been a fluke.             It was too soon for him to develop a power. 

The antique shop lay on the high street, squatting between an adult bookstore and a pub, its existence minimal in the bustle that was London ’s tourist zone.             The team of Guardians went almost unnoticed amidst a flow of colourful tourists dressed in I-heart-London t shirts donning selfy sticks. One by one as the Guardians approached their destination they sifted off to various corners to watch from afar. They were linked in together by Candor’s telepathic skills that honed them all in the same wave patterns so that they could communicate without talking.             Rover set up, he telepathed down the line.             Enda in place, he telepathed.             Annandale in the pub, he telepathed.             Candor was the last to walk into the adult book store staying close to the window where he could see passers by as he watched Marcus and Eros glide past him on an invisible current.             The two strode into the antique shop. A moment later the

“The more the merrier,” Eros pulled a chair from the table next to theirs. “As it turns out we don’t have much of a mission, just a run of the mill watch over as Marcus and I go into a store,” Eros shrugged inhaling his coffee.             Candor did not look convinced. 

“Candor.”             “Marcus.”             Marcus stared at the man, his black hair flopping over his wire rimmed glasses. Candor had hardly aged since the last time Marcus had seen him, though his eyes were weary, cautious. The most powerful of them all was Candor, telepath.             His presence stirred something in Marcus, an ice sluiced in the pit of his stomach though he made no other move. He’d let go of what had happened all those years ago. There was nothing that could have been done differently. If it wasn’t for the impenetrable wall Candor had put on Marcus’s mind he would be sure the telepath would know exactly what he was thinking.             “I did not take you for a Travelling Guardian,” Marcus said at last.             The man shifted in his stance, “I’m not a regular, I do what I can,” Candor didn’t meet his eyes; instead he looked to the others squaring his jaw.             Marcus knew the answer for the lie it was. Candor had opted to aid the Travel

Marcus did not break eye contact from the snarling Rover, “This mission is at an end, we go to Ramon, we find out what the item is and go home.”             Eros placed one arm behind the booth, “Oh really?”             “Really.”             “It’s as simple as that?”             “Yes.”             “Then you won’t mind if the Travelling Guardians accompany us in case something goes wrong?” Eros’s voice lilted like a flower turning toward the sun. “Or perhaps you won’t mind if I tell them what we found.” “Nothing will go wrong,” Marcus watched Enda as he dug into Eros’s plate. Marcus knew the profile of each of these Guardians, he’d been a part of the selection committee. Enda of Native American descend was tattooed from head to toe in animals, his power was to give shape to any creature on his skin. He’d been a Travelling Guardian for little over a year; his older brother had been a part of the team before then. Rover had been with the team for five years, on and off,

There was a hesitant pause before Rover stepped forward, the oldest of the three. “It’s an honour,” he extended his hand.             “Sir,” Enda stepped in putting out his hand.             “The Grimskeeper in the flesh,” Annandale said as he nodded to the man.             Marcus Ambruge said nothing as he shook their hands.             Eros sighed as the waitress came in with two plates loaded with food. The group moved to a larger booth to accommodate the added numbers.             Eros and Marcus sat shoulder to shoulder as the newcomers sat opposite them. “Marcus, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Travelling Guardians,” Eros’s mouth turned up at the corners as he surveyed the team.             Marcus merely nodded in response.             “I figured they were our best chance in helping us on this mission. Their powers extend outside the boundaries of Aurelia and they’re a useful pair of hands.”             “I know who they are,” Marcus turned to face Eros. “We don’t

They came in with the energy of a hurricane.             The doors whirled open as a gust of wind swept up the place, napkins flying.             The two men did not move.             “You endanger them by conscripting them in our mission,” Marcus Ambruge continued to ignore the crash of footsteps, the bellow of voices and grunts.             Eros did not waver in his gaze, “I wouldn’t know the extent of the danger since you won’t tell me all there is to know. Besides, they’re Guardians of the highest orders as we are. More hands on board”-             “There is nothing to know.”             The footsteps grew louder.             “The gods may have blessed you Marcus Ambruge but you think I can’t sense when you lie and omit details pertinent to this mission,” Eros slid out of the booth, rising to meet the cacophony of noise as it assaulted them.             “Eros!” roared a teenager in a black string singlet revealing tanned skin covered in tattoos. His raven hair swa

Eros cupped his hands in front of him. The over bright light painted Eros pale, silver and blue. He wore a low v neck grey shirt and a casual grey jacket, his hair a mop of carefree waves flecking with the light. “Ramon owns an antique shop, it doesn’t open until 10, and it is precisely”-he flicked down his sleeve to reveal a silver Tag Heuer, “8.15. Surely you don’t expect me to stand outside for an hour.” Eros cocks his head, “you are six-two. I am six foot tall. We need to feed.”             Marcus’s gaze never left Eros, “I can suppress my hunger if the need arises.”             “This is not the wilderness, you don’t have to starve. Besides”-Eros’s gaze flicked up, he nodded over Marcus’s shoulder. Marcus turned to the sound of footsteps. “I told you I would not tolerate secrets,” Eros’s voice had lowered and dulled, a twinkle glimmering in his eye.             “You have only yourself to blame for this.”             “Hey!” the voice called out behind Marcus.            

Chapter 5 “Ramon is in Soho ,” Marcus said.             “I know,” Eros held the menu aloft, his grey gaze skimming the laminated menu. The smell of grease and eggs wafted through the café, clinging to the walls, coffee overpowering it with a spurt and whine of the machine. The café was chequered in blue, plastic, cheap and empty, exactly how Eros had needed it to be. The walls were stained with smoke and the only ones in here were drunks from the night before.             Marcus sat opposite Eros in the booth, his sheer size hunched over, his eyes eliciting the only movement as he scanned the crowd and the café. He wore his Prada suit, tailored to accommodate his size, in a slate grey shadow. “We are not in Soho , time is of the essence.”             “You are so predicable my friend.”             “I am timely,” Marcus countered, “And not here for pleasure.”             Eros flattened the menu and summoned the waitress with a flick of his wrist.             Her overbea

She bit her bottom lip, turning her back on Nanna’s vacant eyes. “I’m sorry,” she took in a sharp breath. The words were forced and cut like razor wire on their way out. She was to blame for it all. She would find a way to repay them.         Poppa’s shoulders slumped a light dimming in his gaze, “I need you to not be here right now.”             “What?” Aelius shot her gaze between the two, something amiss. She honed in on Popp, his skin layered and thin, tactile like the bark of a tree, his eyes grey.             “I have urgent business I need to attend to.”             He said nothing more as he walked out of the living room. End of Chapter 4 

Chapter 4 “You got suspended!” Poppa didn’t even bother with saying hello. His faced moved in a wave of lines shifting with another, infinite stories in those lines. As soon as he opened the front door he turned on Aelius. “It’s that boy again. I told you he was up to no good, I told you not to get into any more fights with”-             Aelius dragged her feet into the living room, her shoulders weighing a tonne. She hadn’t bothered saying anything; it ached as he yelled at her. The planes of his face sunk to an abyss, dark and hollow. Poppa had collected her at school after taking time away from his job, where they payed him per hour.             “He started it,” it was a pitiful response as she bit back the tears fighting their way to the surface. She hadn’t cried in years and now was not the time to start. Instinctively she turned to Nanna for help, only to find her huddled in the corner of the living room wide eyed and silent. When it was just the two of them Nanna wa

Chapter 3 Marcus stepped off the plane as a sheet of rain sliced across his face. The sky was opaque gray and the sun seemed to have never set foot here.             Eros shuffled behind him in the queue down the steps, pulling the lapels of his grey trench coat up around his neck. The other passengers grumbled behind him waiting in the shelter of the plane cabin. “Let’s hope we don’t have to stay too long here,” Eros grumbled as they shuffled down the steps. Marcus Ambruge did not reply only to take another step down the stairs, a gut feeling told him they’d be here longer than just a few days. Marcus was keen to get off the plane, his elongated head had already caused quite a stir and now stuck in a queue he was the subject of many sidelong looks. The stewardess had treated him like a caged animal though he wore a tailored Armani suit in pinstripe black. “I don’t know why Kleou must live in such a dreary city where food tastes like piss and drink tastes like ass,” Eros m

“What?” her throat bobbed. “You heard me.” “Why?” “Because you want to,” his smirk was all knowing and infuriating. “Because you can’t stop thinking about me and you crave this just as much as I do. Kiss me.” “No,” she lashed out, pushing him back by a few inches. The contact, the surge as it pulsed through her body. She bit down on the inside of her cheek hard. She would not give in. “You know you want to,” he cocked his head to the side. She pushed again. “Stop it,” she hissed. “I can’t get into trouble again.” “Then kiss me.” She pushed him again until he hit the back wall but instead of stopping, her fist went flying, soaring. Chase dipped almost in time as the fist scraped along his cheek and met with the wall. She cried out instinctively dropping her hand when her cry echoed down the corridor. She retreated, lungs panting hard just as Mrs Primstone came out into the corridor, her words ringing out into the dead air and pulsing in Aelius’s veins long after. Su

Her finger stopped, “I don’t,” the words were forced and she knew it. He let out a low laugh, “Okay then,” he turned towards her until his face was inches from hers. “Kiss me.” 

She pushed against the wall in the corridor, pressing her forehead against the cold bricks, her nails grating along the coarse stone. Chase appeared next to her as he leaned against the wall. He turned towards her, a cool smirk on his face as he folded his arms across his chest. He had tan olive skin and gold flecked hair that sparkled when the light hit it a certain way and his eyes, those luminous orbs now watched her with that luminous curiosity that put her on edge. She hated him, his perfection, his popularity and everything… everything about him. She’d lived in London her whole life, always tried to fit in and failed but Chase had had no trouble belonging. “We gotta stop meeting like this,” he whistled, so carefree she questioned whether he even knew the extent of the trouble they were in. He was toying with her, toying with a ball of string and tossing it her way. This time she would not take the bait. Instead she closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of brick and chal

“He started it”-             “That’s enough, both of you have detention for the next two weeks and both of you will be cleaning the halls together and if either of you so much as looks at the other wrong; you will bypass suspension and go straight to being expelled.”             Her mouth dropped. They couldn’t do that? Could they?             She had half a mind to turn to him but knew better. They hated each other. Hated. It had been that way for almost a year now. “Chase Waters,” Mrs Primstone turned to the boy, “Aurelia Bennett.” “Aelius,” the girl said. “It’s Aelius,” a muscle in her jaw flicked back into action, her hand gripped in on the armrest until she swore she could feel it indent. Mrs Primstone let out a sigh, “Aelius, Chase, you are both sixteen and old enough to know better, to know this is not what is expected of you.” The woman pursed her lips and placed her hand firmly on the black telephone. “I need both of you to wait outside while I call your parent

He caught her fist and held it aloft, his head turning to the side as the teacher appeared. Mrs Primstone held a power that quieted the world around her until no one dared speak, “You two, my office. RIGHT NOW.”             The girl fell back panting on raw knuckles as she looked at that perfect face she’d marred for her satisfaction. He stared back at her swollen lip and shining blue eyes, that golden hair now dirtied in the mud. “Now you’ve done it,” he spat blood onto the concrete as he rose with ease, as if she’d hardly done anything to him.             He stopped a few paces away from her and put out his hand, around her others whispered and someone even whistled. She batted it away and rose until she was standing opposite him, his head tipping down at hers, almost a head taller than her.             She turned her back on him and marched to Mrs Primstone’s office still balling her fists as the golden haired boy watched on and followed.             Her heart hammered in

Chapter 2 “What did you say?”             “Little sleeping beauty,” the boy sang. “Aurelia, Aurelia, Aurelia, go prick ye finger, Aurelia, Aurelia”-             This was it. She’d had enough. He’d sung that song one too many times and each time she pressed in further within herself to find that calm. She’d long run out of calm. Princess. Girl. Words she could never associate with as her fists bunched down by her sides.             He didn’t even step away when she marched right up to him and grabbed his collar throwing him down against the pavement until she was on top of him. “Say it again I dare you,” she bared her teeth. His mouth opened- She threw her fist. He slipped to the side beneath her using his weight to roll them over as they both clipped into the concrete. Neither let up as the boy’s lip split, as mud splashed into her face. She only saw red, pulsing hard in her head, shouting in her blood.             All around the children chanted. Her classmates, hi