Grey October (East Hollow Chronicles)

  GREY OCTOBER

  CHARLOTTE MUNRO

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Author, except where permitted by law.

  Copyright © 2014 Charlotte Munro

  Cover Images © 2014 morguefile.com

  Cover Design © 2014 Charlotte Munro

  For more Information on Charlotte Munro, Grey October and other works, http://clockworkchar.blogspot.co.uk/

  For never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

  ~ William Shakespeare Romeo and Juliet.

  Evander –

  You can always tell the difference between a scream of desire, of mirth and a scream that chills you down to the bones; a real cry of fear. It echoes off the walls, bounces into my ears and sends a delightful chill down my spine. Human emotions can be so fun to toy with.

  Staring down at the man’s sweat soaked hair, I notice through the loose strands sticking to his forehead as he cranes his head up to look at me, the whites of his eyes shrink, his pupils dilating, like a black abyss. I see his crooked nose, from years of fights and the purple bruises blossoming beneath his eyes. I drink him in, his fear smells quite like the bottles of floor polish and disinfectant that are piled high on his cart.

  ‘Please.’ He pleads, his voice a tremble of chattering teeth. He lifts his hands to me, crawling on his knees, his fingers clawing the air for me. ‘Please, I didn’t get what I wanted. You can’t… not yet…’

  ‘You think that you can get all of your dreams, your desires without a second thought of consequence?’ my words bite through the air, a slam of teeth quaking the air. The Mall is quiet, save for the collection of well-dressed demons walking the lower floor. The air is still and cold, the October chill coming through the air vents, clawing into the pale face of the caretaker that sits up on his knees, reaching up for me.

  ‘Please extend my time, please.’ The trickle of crimson on his forehead slips into his eyes, he squints and I think that perhaps I had thrown him against the wall too hard, that is the only explanation for his lack of knowledge for how things work – he read the contract, even the fine print, he signed it in his blood. There is no reason for him to be pleading with me, all teary eyed, sweat and blood-stained.

  ‘East Hollow has some real pitiful dolls, don’t they Evan?’ I cast my gaze over the pleading caretaker, to the silver haired man propped up against the wall, his fine crisp white shirt bringing out the pale of his hair, to look almost ghostly pale beneath the strobe lightning of the ceiling. By his side, the russet haired shadow speaks, an evident irritation swathing his voice from all real emotion.

  They can’t let me have a little fun, can they?

  ‘Just take his soul, Evan. We have stuff to do. In case you haven’t noticed, the league of well-dressed nobles downstairs can only ignore our lack of presence for so long.’ He arches his brown eyebrows, so close to his eyes that they are almost lost within the shadows that dance on his face.

  ‘What little fun I have, you take away.’ I roll my shoulders, backward and then forward, hearing the crack of the joints, this sickens the caretaker who thought he had liberty for a blissful moment and is starting to crawl on hands and disjointed legs across the floor, leaving a trail of crimson smears on the white tiles.

  ‘Fine. You guys owe me. Next time I’ll harass you.’ I turn my head, glancing at my brethren before bending down and pulling at the whimpering man’s ankle, bringing him closer to me before flipping him over; I hear a crack as his back lands against the hard floor, he looks up at me with a dazed look in his teary eyes. I see his life flicker through his eyes before his dying scream is locked within my mind, stored with the memories of him writing the contract, his eyes so large with happiness. I didn’t think anyone could be so happy about finding love in a person that would normally overlook them. It’s amazing what a little bit of dark magic can do, a few spells here, a little curse there. And then boom, a contract with a nice scrawl of blood at the bottom. A soul to be reaped thereafter.

  It’s all so simple, yet they all forget the terms so quickly.

  I scoop up the mist that starts to pool from his body, like swirls of cloud they dance around the air, so easily missed if it wasn’t for my quick hand clasping a vial between forefinger and thumb.

  ‘Next time? You’re way behind, Evan.’ The silver haired, Kaiser, rolls his tongue, a loud click as it hits the roof of his mouth, the sound fills the darker corner of the second floor. His pale hair lulls over his forehead as he stretches his arms above his head; equally as bored as I feel right now. The lust for soul taking has lost its edge, not only for me it seems.

  ‘One mishap and I have you two on my back as well as my father?’ I turn around to lean against the railings of the upper floor, my foot colliding with the side of the dead caretaker. His soul still feels warm through the glass of the vial in my palm. Staring down from up here, I see the podium, the floor replete with suits and arching black wings. The electric current of chatter – of rumours and ills – fills my mind, my ears. But my eyes are drawn away from the throes of our monthly meeting towards some sculptures that sit on grass like material.

  ‘What in Satan’s name is that thing?’ Kaiser asks, stepping over the caretaker and joining my side, spreading his arms out over the metal railing and clasping his hands together, as if doing so accentuates his concentrative eye. Attuned upon the strange metal manipulations down below, he does not notice Alpheus pulling an arm around his shoulder, a cool tremor in his voice. He bears no love for humans, no affection, not even a slither of remorse for their pathetic little lives, all convenient this, all emotion that. I tend to agree with him there.

  ‘That is what these pathetic little humans call Art. They don’t have the same adept brains as we have. They look at an expensive portrait and think, oh, how boring. Each curve of the brushstroke so expertly done. It brings them no joy, no appreciation. But things like that. Ugly oddities like that, they marvel over. Humans. I will never understand them.’

  ‘They’re so boring.’ Kai drawls, tearing his gaze away from the metal sculptures of what look like farmyard cows, to the scurrying bodies of our servants – all human, all with contracts once binding. Their gaunt cheeks sink into their faces, their eyes set within two shadowy eye sockets. I spy Manson; mine and father’s servant, tending to my father. His hand is fragile and shaky as he offers my father a goblet of claret. As Great Kings go, I’d say my father sits the most proud. He swirls the claret liquid in the cup before shooing Manson away, no doubt asking him to find me; the conference will be starting soon.

  ‘Boring you say? I can’t think of anything more boring than this.’ I accentuate with my hands, gesturing to the vast Mall, the endless shops and convenient human commodities. To this life and my own. My fingers move to my chest, where I finger the gold chain that leads to my red pendant. The firestone is burning brightly tonight, surrounded by its companions, all from hells fire. It feels right at home.

  Alpheus and Kaiser are talking, their mouths moving, their eyes darting between the demons below us. The two of them are talking to me, but their words are distant and vague. Like I’m under water, skimming the depths, all I see is the glint of gold in one of the shop windows below. Dancing in the reflective gl
ass are shadows of antique ornaments, pedestals and rows of jewellery. I continue to thumb my pendant, flicking it against the starchy black of my shirt, the tight knot of my black tie.

  ‘Evan? Are you even listening?’

  I turn my eyes, looking out at the corner of them to catch a glimpse of Alphie and Kai, just as they lean over and point to the group of succubus that have just strolled beneath us; wearing little more than a patchwork of velvet material, they are causing quite a stir.

  ‘What?’ I say, drawing my eyes back to the glitter in the window, behind those metal shutters lurks many a wonder. All those humans do is collect and store things that have no real value. Oh, this cup was once drank out of by an Egyptian. Oh my, this bracelet was worn by a Queen in a far off country, I must own that. I wonder what they would think if they owned a Demon’s necklace…

  ‘I was seeing if Alphie remembered what happened last time with you and… what was that nice little succubus called? Dauphine, Daphne?’

  ‘Darleen.’ I correct him, remembering myself and allowing my ice blue eyes to trail over the group of female, spotting her red hair flowing down her back in tight ringlets.

  ‘Darleen. That was it. I bet Alphie back then that you’d get the whole group of them going but—’

  ‘What would you say for a bit of fun, boys?’ I ask, my eyes glancing down to the palm sized ruby red pendant in my hand, my fingers knotting with the gold claw-like chain.

  ‘You’re going to get us a nice little—’ Kaiser is stopped mid-sentence by Alpheus, who lifts his hand and reaches his fingers to grasp at mine.

  ‘You’re not going to?’ looking at his dark eyes, his eyebrows lose themselves within his mounds of chocolate hair, as they are raised in mild gesture. His plain lips harbouring the slightest hint of a smile – I have known these two Great Princes all of my life. We can read each other so well. It is only right that he sees what I am planning.

  ‘Wait.’ Kai raises a burly hand, pointing down to the antique shop below us. ‘You’re going to pawn your pendant?’

  ‘I’m going to see what excitement can be brought from someone retrieving a lost item.’ I unclasp the chain from my neck, almost immediately the ruby stone flashes a yellow and fiery orange, it burns within my equally warm palm. Hell’s fire is so warm, so welcoming. I stare down at it, a cockeyed smirk pulling at one side of my mouth.

  Just as I let go of the necklace, watching it’s plummet down and spying how it lands just outside the antique store, I meet my father’s crisp blue gaze. His furrowed brow and tight lips a sure sign of the demanding finger that soon follows. Ah, there it is. His forefinger points directly at me, through my soulless body.

  Down. His lips mouth and I see him turn to continue his conversation with both Alphie’s father and Kaiser’s.

  Of course. Tonight is my night to stand on the podium and pander to Satan’s wills.

  My fingers curl around the metal railings, securing a grasp before I leap from its side, settling upon the tiled floor with a gentle thud. As I move out of my crouch, I rake my fingers through my thick ebony hair, rolling my eyes discreetly as I cast a gaze over to my father; his shiny leather toe taps awkwardly at the ground, his arms curl over his chest, his gaze does not leave mine.

  ‘Evander.’ His sapphire eyes burn like the middle of the flame, his pale skin furrowing at his brow. He need not say no more. He turns to his right, gesturing with his head to the vast table that sits so proudly beneath the hanging lights of the Mall. If only the humans knew what happened in their shopping centre in the dead of night…

  As I follow my father’s shadow, I throw a quick glance to the antique shop, my pendant still sparkles on its own, still there, still ready to be claimed. A twist of a smile pulls at my lips but is quickly forgotten when the head chair is pulled out for me. All gold and silver, all embroidered with the finest velvet and silk. Adorned with gemstones and crystal. It looks daunting and huge, but as I sit down, it’s all the eyes upon me that troubles me more than the thick armrests that mould into my hands, the towering back that acts like a crown; it resembles more like the gallows than anything else

  As the Heir of Beleth, the Great King of equally terrible and equally amazing things, the Commander of eighty-five of Hell’s legions and one hand of Satan himself. I must look and act the part. I step out of my father’s shadow, only glimpsing a look over to him as he stands just off from my right, his shadow flickering over the table’s surface. I’m on my own here. My black hair frames the side of my face as I observe the intimidatingly busy table of conference. My tousled quiff of hair casting a shadow that appears more like a small crow to a menacing murder of angry ravens.

  ‘The first on the list to be addressed is one of Satan’s concerns.’ a voice speaks from the middle of the table, tenting fingers resting on bent elbows. Eyes as red as the torrents of blood in hell, stare right through me.

  Lucifer.

  ‘Our Mighty greatness has concerns?’ I peak an eyebrow, shifting awkwardly in the tall, gemstone adorned chair. The rubies, the sapphires and the gold, it glowers and entices men to sit upon it, but the armrests of satin and silk are not as trusting as you would like to think. They keep you in place, like shackles until the hours of deliberation have ended. Who knows how long I will have to be imprisoned in this chair, looking over at my two brethren with envious eyes. As they sip claret from their goblets, chasing down a few succubus, completely unfazed.

  ‘Beleth, you let your son upon the chair when he knows nothing—’ a voice hisses from one corner of the table. Joining with him another naysayer.

  ‘Have you even discussed with him the current affairs?’

  ‘Men.’ I look to my father who keeps his lips tight, his jaw like stone, rigid and cold. ‘Enough.’

  ‘Evander, My Prince.’ Lucifer’s whimsical voice shatters the daunting silence my father created. His blood rich eyes glaring back at me. His golden hair skimming the side of his face, framing his trademark scowl.

  ‘Our God Almighty, our Satan, he is concerned about the current affairs. You do know what I am talking about, do you not?’

  I dare not look to my right; I can feel the ice in my father’s eyes frosting me over. Calm yourself, calm yourself Evan. You hear it all the time whispered in the halls of the castle. Slyly gossiped about behind backs.

  ‘How can anyone forget that there is a war on our hands?’ my tongue is sharp, too knife like to remain in this place for much longer.

  ‘Precisely.’ He grinds his teeth, a wicked smile replacing his scowl. ‘The Angels, they have been spotted around recently, we have sent scouts to locate their position but they have returned empty handed. Satan leaves the decision up to you, Evander. What do we do?’

  Me? He is leaving the decision up to me?

  ‘They must have known we were coming; let it lie low for now, and then send the best. Satan will want to know to hold off for now, until they surface again. Have we heard of anything else?’ my fingers tent, bracing the tips against one another. All I can see out of the corner of my eye is the glimmer of gold, it dances in the reflection of the glass. My fun will start when some human picks that up, but for now I much endure my future, the tables of congress, deciding things that will never happen, becoming the main talking point for the evening to come.

  I will claw out my eyes at the end of this.

  Ellison –

  The skies are grey, desolate and empty. The black spines of the distant trees waver in the cold autumn breeze, their shadows drape over the near empty train station. Not many come through this station, the only destinations are the main routes to London, to the other capital cities and larger towns around East Hollow. Even though it is quiet, I cannot hear anything, nothing except the whirr of the train tracks, the promise of an oncoming train, the cutting winds whipping through the trees. The wind howls through the platform, cold and bone-chilling. I look to my side, glimpsing my sister, her chocolate curls bouncing by her shoulders, her woollen scarf tightly wrapped aroun
d her neck, trying in vain to keep the cold out of her bones. She’s smiling, such a beautiful, demure smile. All her perfect pristine teeth showing with such delight, such happiness.

  The tracks are whirring, the electricity pulsing through them cutting my attention from my sister, I can see the lights piercing through the dull fog of the October day, blinding almost as you stare down at it. It’s coming closer, closer. It will not be stopping, this is a passer through and I take a slight step back. There is always something quite menacing about standing beside the tracks on the platform. The hiss starts, the clatter of metal and the whir of electricity pulses through the air, thick and suffocating, it all happens so fast, all I see it the pink wool of her scarf whip past me and my sister, she is gone.

  Her mangled body on the tracks, her scarf fluttering in the wind and landing by my feet. It all happens so fast that nothing computes in my mind, I crumple, falling to my knees I try to clamber down onto the tracks but am kept in place by strong arms, the workmen in fluorescent orange gear are shouting, screaming ‘We have a jumper. We have a jumper.’

  My sister is gone. My Twin, Madison. She’s gone.

  I lose my voice within the sirens, the screams of onlookers, the birds falling silent, even the trees stop. It is like the whole world has stopped, and all I can see is her beautiful brunette curls, matted with blood, she is broken, thrown like a ragdoll. I lose myself within my scream.

  ‘MADI!’

  The curtains whirl, the rain torrents against the window, the glass sounding like it is about to cave in. The curtains, dark and thick remind me of her scarf, billowing in the breeze. I blink, once, twice, returning back to the realm of reality. I sit up, curling the bed sheets around me; I am slick with sweat, but shivering, ice cold. The nightmares have plagued me every night, I cannot seem to escape them. I close my eyes tightly, flashes of Madison’s face flicker, her smile, so beautiful, her elegant laugh. So sweet. And then her contorted face, her mangled body. She was nothing like she was. Crumpled, broken. Lifeless. Dead.