Petit Mort

By Paul Smith

Set across the streets of Brighton and Manchester around the Millennium, Petit Mort features a cast of queens and faeries, old gods and monsters.

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Petit Mort was my first attempt at writing a novel. I make no apologies for the text; I’ve neither the time nor the inclination to go back and re-edit what twenty two year old me wrote. So I present this work as it is, in virgin form. The edges are a little rough, but there’s heart and pathos here that I hope will make up for the raw spelling and grammar.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Smith
• Release date: Sep 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463509852

Paul Smith

PAUL SMITH is a dedicated father of two and an expert trainer in leadership and storytelling techniques. As the author of the popular Lead with a Story, he has seen his work featured in The Wall Street Journal, Time, Forbes, The Washington Post, Success, and Investor's Business Daily, among others.

Book preview

Petit Mort

By Paul Smith.

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Petit Mort

Paul Smith

Copyright 2019 Paul Smith

Smashwords Edition.

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to people, places or events is purely coincidental, and bears no malicious intent.

ISBN: 9780463509852

For more information on my work, and to keep up to date with new releases please follow me on Twitter @tattooloverboi or check out one of my galleries:

Writing: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/starofthemorning

Gallery: http://gladefaun.deviantart.com/

Website: http://paulsmithauthor.wordpress.com/

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'For anyone who believes in faeries. You know what to do.'

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Table of Contents

1: Wish

Prelude.

Eve.

Laying the Pieces.

Fragments.

Celeste.

Vamps.

Dear Isobel.

Not in Kansas.

Retrospective.

Redemption.

Prequels.

Snapshots.

Götterdämrung.

Codetta.

2: Absolution.

Sunday Afternoon.

Night and Day.

Fool at the Door.

Romeo Romeo…

Under the Bridge.

Road Trips.

Sunday Morning/

Circle Dance.

Revelations.

All Hallows Eve.

Xanadu.

Fairytale of New York.

Truth.

Beauty.

Freedom.

Love.

Intermission.

Summer Nights.

3: The Ballad of Sarah Jane.

First Night.

Coming Home.

Voices.

‘Where’s your Head at?’

Once upon a time…

The Yard.

Corner.

Betrayal.

Hide and Seek.

Eighth Day.

Morning After.

Murder she wrote.

Diablo.

Masquerade.

Circle.

Aftermath.

Friends.

Two.

Carousel.

Bauble.

Rabbit.

Butterflies.

Ships that pass.

Doubles.

Music.

Wild Rose.

Refrain.

4: Aria.

Lights.

Thicker than blood.

Kindling.

Leaves on the Wind.

Nightmares.

Consequences.

Mariah.

Redemption.

Confluence.

Council.

Perchance.

Cards on the Table.

Hitch hiking.

No sleep for the wicked.

Tea Cup.

Denouement I: The Liberation of Sarah Jane.

Pause.

Denouement II: The Judgement of Jamie Stormwing.

Coda.

Children’s play.

Acknowledgement.

1: Wish

Prelude.

In the beginning there was dark. Then there was light.

A tiny point of light in the dark. A tiny grain of sand; alone creating a glimmer in the night… a star, lonely in the void… or a dream, brushing against someone’s consciousness, making fire in their head.

The reason it’s so hard to talk about these things, these beginnings, is that as a rule, they happen on a scale that is beyond (mortal) comprehension. How can you possibly be expected to appreciate something that will take several million of your life times, and yet is the tiniest of occurrences? It’s simply unreasonable.

Change is gradual; sudden and spectacular change is extremely rare, and when it comes it’s usually a result of a long time of anticipation, build up, setting the scene. You don’t break from your relationship with someone just because something wrong was said. It takes time and energy for people to grow apart. Remember sunshine on a warm summer afternoon, and the feeling as the clouds roll in overhead.

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It was dark. And then there was light. Rising for the first time over Faerie, never to set again. Though never to take full possession, as in the bewitching twilight, the shadows would remain for all eternity, granting our home its mystery. Light of the heart; light of the soul immortal.

And we smiled.

Creating an entire world out of the half dark of twilight? Madness, surely. And to do so simply as a hiding place, against those who created all things? Insanity. But this was our choice, and work it certainly did, though it is debatable whether this was more because they didn’t try looking, or more because we were successful in our charade.

Neutrality is an illusion, but I think we carry it off.

Faerie, a lost carnival lantern, floating on the sea of night. Our very vapidity has always been our saving grace, though against our own we are forever brutal.

The quantity of illumination in Faerie never changes, but the quality does… different suns and stars, sweeping across the sky in slow arcs, the colour and strength of the light shifting through the days and the courts.

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In the darkness they opened their eyes, and looked round at the wonders to be seen.

People always get us wrong; we’re maligned for completely the wrong reasons. Nine times out of ten we do deserve to be treated with anger, but often it is for actions other than those whose blame has been laid at our door.

Immortality and the stars; these are burdens that should not be dealt with lightly.

People get involved of their own free will, but often we do have need of them, and it’s not above our cause to offer encouragement. So it is for young girls or boys who want to live forever, and teenagers who wish for the stars. So it will always be, for anyone who looks upward and wonders ‘If…’

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It began in darkness. It shall all end in light.

Song, like a knife, is a two edged weapon, and people would do well to remember it. There is more power in a piece music than most people care to realise. It reaches and touches where no other art form can.

Suggesting that friendships are eternal is like talking about the permanence of the ocean. True, it will be there for many years, but the boundaries are forever changing. It must be watched and judged with care.

Dreams are the greatest gift of all, though it is well to remember that even great gifts may be squandered with impunity. The danger is when the dreams of others touch your life.

Eve.

Friday, 23rd April.

Rain fell from the sky, dark clouds shedding droplets under the stars like confetti. They pattered against his skin in hundreds of tiny wet collisions, creeping under his t shirt down his back, seeping through his hair and falling pendulously from his eyelashes, mingling with the salty sweetness of his tears. He pushed at the lock of blonde hair that kept drooping in his eyes, pushing it back and wiping them, past caring about his smudged eyeliner. Lagoon hated being pretty, it made sulking so difficult. He was shivering with the cold, and his makeup had been ruined by the rain; or at least that was his story.

Bastard, he muttered, sniffing back another sob. The problem with Jack had been that he was gorgeous. It was this that had caused Lagoon to over look the reality. That being that Jack was in fact a vacuous tramp with shit for brains who deserved to have his bollocks cut off and used to wipe the sneering smile off his no good two timing face. Lagoon actually smiled, enjoying the image for a moment, feeling the satisfying weight of a knife in his hands. He’d also need to think of a suitable retribution for that no good whore Roger, who had so obviously been putting the moves on his boy. Makes my blood boil just thinking about it, Lagoon mused, anger simmering just below the surface.

Police sirens reminded him about the rest of the world and Lagoon got up from the bench he'd been occupying opposite the fountain on Brighton’s Old Steine for the last half-hour. The sirens echoed in the distance, and a couple hurried past, hiding under an umbrella from the rain that was now easing up. Wrapping arms around himself, he examined his own drenched cords and buffalos critically. Then, smiling to himself, headed for the seafront, kicking puddle water at loitering seagulls.

As he wandered along the promenade the rain cleared, and the clouds parted a little, letting a few stars wink through. Below him, the music of many clubs made the air vibrate out towards the waves down the beach. Light spilled from their doors, out across the cobbles that stretched between the arches and the beach.

Hiding from the breeze under one of the bench shelters, Lagoon lit a cigarette, glancing up at the sky as he drew the sweet nicotine deep into his lungs, exhaling appreciatively. He starred at the stars, smiling thoughtfully; Ra’s brothers and sisters, with only worlds as their cares. He liked the idea of being a star, radiant and beautiful. Everything would be so peaceful out there in space.

How about it Ra? he asked. Need a hand up there?

Something cold brushed his nose and Lagoon reached up with a non-too steady hand to touch it. It melted in his palm. Taking a breath in hope, he glanced up, out of the shelter. Gently tumbling on to the pavement around him, snow fell. Above, dark clouds again marked the sky, and the snow melted as it hit the wet path. Lagoon stepped out from his cover to catch some on his tongue, blowing smoke in to the flurry that was beginning to cloth the world in white. The crescent moon came out, casting pale light over the world, and Lagoon felt something warm touch his heart. Smiling up at the moon, Lagoon blew her a kiss and turned to go, leaving the music and the lights in the snow.

Becky glanced up from her desk at the knock on her office door. She was a petit girl, long deep auburn hair spilling in waves over her shoulders and down her back, framing a heart shaped face with a snub nose and green, penetrating eyes. She pushed her hair out of the way as she sat back in her chair. Come in, she said. Hey Mick, nearly ready? She smiled at her head bouncer, who nodded. Mick was an ex-body builder, who’d let the beer get the better of him. Still, he hadn’t lost any of the muscle, just acquired a few spare tires to go with it.

Barbie and Helen aren’t speaking again, he warned her, grinning like a bull in a china shop, but apart from that… He shrugged.

Becky rolled her eyes, sharing a despairing look with him. Men and hormones, what a terrible combination, she mused. You’ve got a lot to answer for, she added, glancing towards the ceiling. Well, Barbie can do door duty; he’s better at that than she is. Closing her eyes for a moment, she sought the strength to deal with another Friday night’s turmoil. Standing, she picked up the till draw she’d been counting. Right, let’s get this show on the road. Gesturing for him to precede her, she left the office, locking the door behind her and walking out across the club. The place wasn’t particularly large; a main dance floor surrounded by a balcony and a small secondary room upstairs and to one side. Becky crossed the main room with the till draw balanced against her side, hips swaying with easy confidence.

Winking at Axel, the DJ, she smiled to herself as Helen and Alana broke off a hushed discussion behind the as she approached and placed the till draw on the bar. Ah well, girls will be girls. It wasn’t her fault Helen and Barbie shared the same taste in men. Wordlessly, she turned away and headed towards the front door, where they were starting to let people in. She came out into the foyer and Mike peered round the side of the box office to poke his tongue out at her. Becky reached out to ruffle his hair (Red, very nice!), but he ducked out of her way, laughing. She turned towards the door just as Barbie bounced towards her. He was perhaps the skinniest person Becky knew, looking more like a fourteen year old boy or a lesbian than the considerably older individual that he actually was. It’s the hair that does it, she mused to herself, eyeing the blonde Mohawk that ran across the top of his skull. Barbie made a fantastic gate keeper, running up and down the queue, bitching at the crowd, keeping them happy while they waited to be let in. Of course, they all knew that at the first sign of serious trouble he’d run and hide behind Mick, but then if his quick tongue and sharp wit couldn’t deal with a problem then it was usually time to consider more direct tactics.

Hi Barbie.

Hi Ken, he squeaked, grinning maniacally.

So, who was it? Becky asked politely, her cultured voice dripping with honey.

Barbie rolled his eyes theatrically and pouted. "Does privacy no longer exist? Am I an unwitting subject of some Big Brotheresque style surveillance project?" he asked, flashing her a smile to take away the sting.

Honey, have you seen the look on Helen’s face this evening? Picture tells a story... Barbie scowled at her ... and Mick might have mentioned something.

Traitor! Barbie shouted past a couple of girls in not much PVC.

Like you weren’t going to boast about it yourself, came the reply. The girls tittered, Becky raised an eyebrow. Barbie just grinned.

You got Prince Charming’s number I hope? Becky prompted, regarding him pointedly.

Oh yes, but don’t worry. I haven't asked him along tonight. Even I'm not that senseless.

Thanks, Becky said flatly.

Don't mention it.

Becky left him to it, and went to mingle, a smile playing at the corner of her generous lips.

…Midnight…

Barbie looked up as Becky wondered into the staff room and threw a cigarette at her. She glanced at it as it sailed past towards the floor, then reached down to pick it up from where it had landed just behind her feet.

Cheers.

Don’t mention it, Barbie replied, placing one between his own lips and lighting it. He took a few thoughtful puffs and got up to come and stand by Becky where she was peering out of the door, over the main room and the dance floor. Manic, isn’t it?

Becky nodded. It’s like a sauna out there, she commented.

Won’t it make your arm rust? asked Barbie, gesturing at the metal prosthetic that replaced Becky’s left arm. She glanced down at the replacement limb, a slender sculpture of black metal that looked more like a work of art than a functional limb, and shrugged.

It’ll take a little more than a sweaty dance floor, she said, smiling at it fondly, flexing her fingers. She took a drag on her cigarette, exhaling a long plume of smoke out the doorway. Besides, she continued, glancing across at him, I had it all sprayed and re-greased again last week.

Yuck, commented her friend, glancing across at the twinkle in her eye and pulling a face. Good vibe tonight…

Yes, a perfect moment. Becky grinned. If you want to dance, go ahead, I’ll send some one to find you when we need you…

Barbie bounced out the door, casting a cheeky smile of thanks over his shoulder and blowing her a kiss before he was swallowed up by the stuttering shadows on the dance floor. Becky smiled after him, smoke trailing away from her poised cigarette out into the waves of sound, musing.

Perfect moments are odd. Time slows, stops, like the world is on pause, yet still motion. The air vibrates to a teardrop.

Hips gyrated and the floorboards got battered. Pheromones and strobes flooded the air. Axel danced after his muse, his music pulling feelings from the air.

Sneaking in the front door, Lagoon cocked an ear and heard Jamie snoring. Well, that was fine by him. Shedding his trainers half way across the lounge, he waited until the bedroom before slipping his trousers and t-shirt off, kicking both into a sodden mess on the floor. Then he towelled his blonde curtains dry and crawled into bed. Then he remembered his wallet and mobile, and went to retrieve them. The phone had already been thrown down the stairs to the flat three times. A night in his soggy bell bottoms wouldn't do it any good at all, and he didn't want to find damp notes in his wallet tomorrow either. Back in bed, sleep settled on him like the snow falling outside.

Twilight filtered by the leaves, falling golden through the air. Blossoms danced around him on a breeze barely felt, drifting about the clearing in shades of pink and white, on air that was crisp with the faint hint of apple. The girl in front of him looked up to meet his gaze, her beautiful eyes moist but resolute. Long tightly woven dreadlocks blew in the wind about her and her fine cheekbones glistened with tears. She reached out and he extended his hands, a little hesitantly. They stood for a while, like a couple poised to dance, and Lagoon heard faint music. She stepped back, letting go of his palms, looking down between them. Lagoon glanced down, and saw the shape of an old man, lying beneath the blossoms. He shivered as the wind picked up, twisting the blossoms into a frenzy, hiding the girl away, the shape on the ground disappearing too in an explosion of petals. Lagoon held out his hands for balance as something shifted beneath him. White and pink danced away, leaving him alone in the darkness, tiny lights winking at him all around.

The night itself stirred, and Lagoon screamed.

*

Kick out time flowed around, and people began to drift out of the club, like rose petals on the wind. Around them, the bar staff wandered, picking up empty bottles and broken glasses, while the bouncers hovered like black hornets, keeping an eye on the departing. Axel had something French and mellow on the decks, and Becky stood leaning on the balcony rail, starring out over the calmness.

Beautiful, isn’t it? said a quiet voice to her right, rich and dark like the finest chocolate. Becky turned to the unfamiliar speaker, a curious, if guarded expression settling over her features. The woman wasn’t particularly tall, though she possessed a certain bearing, the physical confidence of a dancer mixed with the attitude of an aging voodoo queen. Onyx skin and deep golden brown eyes were framed by a cascade of dreadlocks, all spilling around an athletic, if slim, skeleton. There was a faint gleam of sweat on her otherwise flawless countenance, and smoke trailed from a dark cigarette, twining with that from Becky’s own as it drifted towards the ceiling.

Yes, I suppose it is, Becky replied thoughtfully, regarding the black woman carefully.

Nights like this seem almost magical, the girl continued. Like a work of art in themselves. She paused, glancing out over the room before returning to Becky with a frank look. People, place, music, inspired into something divine for one perfect moment, that lasts for just a few short hours. She smiled at Becky shyly, her teeth surreally white in that dark face. Reaching out she touched Becky’s metal arm. Fantasy is delicate. Take care…

Becky starred after her, uncertainty, fear and confusion mixing inside her, as the girl faded into the dispersing crowd.

Barbie found her fifteen minutes later, sat in her office, another cigarette in her hand, starring blankly at the till draw sat in front of her on the desk.

Drink? he asked helpfully.

What? She looked up, confused. Oh. Um… yes, please. She smiled weakly, sitting forwards to flick ash into the tray to one side of her workspace.

You alright? Barbie asked, accepting her empty glass. You’ve got that dreamy look in your eyes.

Becky nodded. Yeah. She groaned. I suppose I should finish this really. She stubbed out the cigarette and sat forwards, pulling the wads of notes out of the till. She glanced up as Barbie opened the door again to let himself out. He glanced back at her questioningly.

Tell you what, she said. Let me do this, and then I’ll have that drink and tell you all about it.

Barbie nodded and quit the room.

Mick! he called, mincing out across the club. The bouncer glanced up from the main bar. I didn’t pull, and Becky’s weirded out. Give me vodka, please?! Mick rolled his eyes and reached behind the bar as Barbie skipped down the staircase towards him.

Saturday.

Hey big boy, what have I told you about trainers on the carpet?

Lagoon opened an eye sleepily, trying to work out who he’d brought home, and at what point exactly he’d met them. Then his eyes woke up properly, and he realised it was only Jamie, his housemate. Rough night, honey? asked the spiky haired boy, in his usual conciliatory fashion, smiling lopsidedly round the door frame. Coffee?

Lagoon smiled and nodded. Jamie wasn’t really mad, but it was his apartment, and Lagoon had to admit his buffalos did look filthy, sat where Jamie had deposited them on the bedroom floor.

Pulling on boxers and a t-shirt, and straightening his hair a little before braving the rest of the world, Lagoon ventured out to brave the rest of the world. That being Jamie and Saturday morning cartoons.

Jacks dumped me for Roger, he said, as he accepted his mug from Jamie. Thanks. His flatmate nodded, taking a pew opposite on the sofa. Jamie was a good few years older than him, already having been to university and graduated. Average sort of height, he was slim of build, with a mass of peroxide spikes that made him look like a hedgehog that was going to a rave.

Really! Are you sure? You’re not just imagining it? Jamie asked, hopefully.

No. Lagoon starred down into the dark, aromatic liquid for a moment. "They turned up at the White Horse, together. And Jack kept touching his arm and offering him fags."

Hmm, it's a foregone conclusion then. Jamie reached out to give Lagoon a quick hug. Well, I am sorry. I know you liked him, and he was gorgeous.

He’s a vacuous tramp now. Lagoon glanced at the TV to where some girl was trying to sell him mascara. And so is Roger for not taking his eyes off Jacks packet for more than three seconds.

Okay, said Jamie, rolling his eyes sympathetically. Um, want to shop?

Sure, let me shower first, though, and make myself look half pretty.

You're always pretty.

Lagoon smiled.

The shower reminded Lagoon of a more violent version of last night’s snow shower, which reminded him of falling blossoms and the girl in his dream. She seemed familiar, even now after he'd woken. Maybe she was one of the other students from college, though God only knew why he was dreaming about a girl. Peering outside he was surprised to see it was a sunny day, which made the beach a must after shopping.

Aren't you ready yet, tart? shouted Jamie from the kitchen.

Coming, Lagoon shouted in mock orgasm, as he stuffed his feet back in to damp trainers. They’d dry soon enough. Picking up the essentials he scampered out to where Jamie was waiting by the door.

Stepping outside, the sun stroked his skin, and it seemed a shame to put his shades on. But there was no way his brain could cope with the light, after last nights drinking.

Saturday night was party night for Jamie and Lagoon. Well, actually almost any night could be a party night, but the weekend was when they made actually made an effort. After Lagoons disaster the previous evening they had decided to drink at home, rather than risk the pubs and a confrontation with Jack. Besides, Madonna’s last concert tour was showing on MTV. Combine this with a couple of bottles of wine and what more could a girl ask for?

After hearing all about the full extent of Jacks scurrilous behaviour on their walk into town early in the afternoon, Jamie had insisted on some serious shopping therapy. This suited Lagoon fine. What else had credit cards been invented for if it wasn’t soothing broken hearts and bruised egos. Lagoon had dragged Jamie round three different shoe shops, and they’d also done a tour of the old second hand book shop on the station approach road; the one that looked like it was just a series of passages carved out of solid books. Jamie had insisted on buying him a new top for that evening, and he’d brought them cocktails on the beach. He was a sweet heart, Lagoon pondered as he watched his flatmate fetch more wine. Cute butt too.

Red or White, honey?

What? Lagoon concentrated through the pink fuzz. White I think. Can’t head bang on too much red. Saturdays was Koochis at the Zap, ‘Twisted faerie fun for everyone’, an eclectic night that played a mix of dance, rock, nu-metal, indie and eighties and nineties classics. Personally, Lagoon just enjoyed the break from bitchy queens prancing about the dance floor.

The taxi dropped them off on Kings Road, and they pegged it down the slope in the brisk sea air towards the rear of the queue, scooting past a couple of bikers and their girl friends, dolled up to the nines in leather and PVC. Jamie and Lagoon were decked out in ripped jeans and combats, plus tight t-shirts. The path along the edge of the beach was awash with people heading between bar and club, shouting and cat calling up and down the beach over the sounds of the sea and the music spilling out of the different venues. It was a cloudless night and the moon glittered off the sea, dancing silver on the dark water. On the beach, several fires had been lit, and their flames flickered between the shadows of figures clustered round for warmth. Over by the VIP queue a girl with dreads in three quarter length trousers was just dousing the flaming brands she’d been juggling, and was holding out a hat for change. As if, whispered Lagoon. Jamie giggled.

Well hello boyz, haven’t seen you in a while, Barbie said as he flounced up to them were they shivered in the cool evening air.

Jack split up with him last night, so play nice, Barb. Jamie kissed Barbie on the proffered cheek.

Aw… you poor baby. You must tell me all about it later, Barbie crooned, giving Lagoon his best contrite look. They’d reached the front of the queue, and Barbie waved as they headed in.

"Hey, how are you doin’?" Mike smiled at them as he took their money.

Not bad thanks. Lagoon said, leaning over the counter to give the red haired boy a peck on the lips. Out to play, because Jacks gone away.

Ah, well you picked a good night for it. We’re really busy and there are some real cuties in there. He winked as he took Jamie’s money.

Really? Why ever do you think we’re going to be interested in that? The boys pantomimed hauteur.

Oh, you ... Mike reached out to try and swat them over the counter as they ran through the entrance proper, slowing to a casual stroll to whistle innocently as they passed Mick, who was trying not to smile.

Fuck, it’s warm in here, said Lagoon, stretching out his arms.

No, t’was just cold outside. Clear sky makes it cold at night. Jamie grinned at his friend.

Have to see if we can’t do something about that. Lagoon grinned back. With a courteous half bow, he offered Jamie a cigarette, which Jamie accepted with a curtsey, while lighting the one that Lagoon had in his mouth. Shall we? Jamie asked, offering his arm.

Why thank you, kind sir, said Lagoon, taking it. They minced towards the bar, trying not to giggle.

Jamie smiled to himself as he looked over the crowd whilst they waited to be served at the bar. Nobody on the dance floor yet, though the balcony above was teaming with people. The seating area over near the entrance had already been over taken by a hen party in school girl outfits. There seemed to be some sort of contest going on between them and the two drag queens sat opposite. One of the trannies had removed her left boot and was waving it at the girls, who were brandishing a variety of makeup implements. Best not to ask, thought Jamie. Above on the balcony, the Cybergoths were trying not to look like they were passing round ecstasy. The dance floor would be heaving by midnight, office workers in the latest chic rubbing shoulders with the Goths and Lady boys. That was why he came here. Spice up your life, as that girl band once said. Speaking of which, was that... Oh my God! Lagoon, would you get the drinks honey? I’ve just seen Merissa heading upstairs in a Geri style union jack dress.

Lagoon rolled his eyes. That girl needs some serious fashion counselling. Meet you up there?

Jamie nodded and gave chase to the fashion victim.

Lagoon found them up in the balcony area, where Merissa and her cronies had purloined one of the sofas that over looked the seafront through the arch windows at the front of the club.

It's fuckin’ awful out there, ain’t it? she proclaimed, while simultaneously trying to smoke a cigarette and adjust her strawberry blonde curls, which tonight were being allowed to roam free around her shoulders. Merissa was possessed of a thick Yorkshire accent, to the point that Lagoon sometimes found himself wishing for subtitles.

Did you not bring a jacket? asked Lagoon, surveying the damp flag clinging to her breasts.

Weren’t rainin’ when I left, Merissa sulked, pink lips pouting prettily.

Yes, but you do live on the other side of town.

I know. But I’m skint ‘til the end of next week.

Lagoon and Jamie nodded sagely, and Merissa’s girl friends tittered.

Lagoon stood up. Right girls, I'm off for a wander.

Come find you later babe, Merissa promised. Someone pinched his arse as he left and Lagoon turned round to see Jamie wink at him.

The music caressed Lagoons ears like the tongue of a lover. He’d managed to persuade Daniel to part with an E half price, and the world was just beginning to creep away from him. The already packed dance floor seemed to become even more of an ocean as an old Planet Perfecto classic came out over the speakers. The strobes flickered and Lagoon felt reality shifting slightly, liquefying round the edges. It was like looking at stained glass windows in very strong sunlight, everything was still there but in a slightly translucent, luminescent sort of way.

A new string riff broke through the dance track, and the lighting dimmed to near darkness. People around him whooped at the change in music. Lagoon grinned inanely at the dancers around him. Between him and the girl opposite the air shimmered, and space bent out of shape, doing strange things to the light passing through it. Lagoon found himself markedly impressed with the effect, wondering how it was done, as light and shadow ebbed from within the gap forming in the crowd. Then people were moving back out of the way, smiling and mouthing apologies to the person who hadn’t been there before. Lagoon knew that but he wasn’t much thinking about it now. What he was thinking about was the way that the boy stood perfectly still to the tilt of the world, and yet seemed to embody the music around them in a way that none of the frantic dances who surrounded their nadir were able to achieve, as if the music played for his stillness. Blue blue eyes to pierce the soul opened between full dark lashes, to look out of a face delicate with androgynous beauty, framed in fine black hair that fell over his cheekbones. A hand reaching up to brush it from his eyes. Skin that seemed to steal light from its surroundings. And all the time, the boys’ eyes never left Lagoon’s face, and there was a look of wonder and longing there. Lagoon could feel his presence tangibly, even from five feet away. He returned the boys stare frankly, too trashed to bother with how dumb he must look. He had stopped dancing and stepped forward to brush fingers on the soft skin of the boys face. The boy leaned forward and their lips touched gently, brushing moist skin on skin. Then electric guitars tore into the moment. They each opened their eyes to see a smile mirrored on the others face, and rejoined the sea of dancing bodies.

Jamie would later, if asked, relate the sequence of Lagoon and Bullets meeting through the music on the floor. He’d been chatting to a rather dazed Becky at the time when Planet Perfecto’s Bullet in the Gun came on. She’d pointed out Lagoon amongst the dancers and they’d both laughed at the ecstatic expression on his face. Darude’s Feel the Beat came next, and he and Becky were turning away as the lights faded towards darkness when something caught his eye. Turning back he’d watched as the crowd parted and light began to simmer, as if candles had been lit amongst the part of the crowd near Lagoon. Clever effect, he’d thought, looking up to find the spotlight responsible. When he couldn’t, he’d looked back down, to see a boy (though he hadn’t been sure of that at first), as the lights faded around him. Bullet. As he’d watched, the music had slowed like poured treacle, as his housemate leant forward and they kissed. All this time, the dance tracks big synthesizer riffs were cutting the air up around them like a set of giant steely blades of sound, swinging from the roof. Time moved on again as the two boys parted, and the opening to U2's Hold me, Thrill me, Kiss me, Kill me spiralled out, shunting the pace back up again. The two boys faded from view. He’d turned back to Becky to find the oddest look on her face. You ok? he’d asked, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

She’d nodded vaguely. Yeah, just seen something delicate, is all.

Sunday.

Jamie rolled over in bed. Morning glory was a pain in the arse, especially when you had a full bladder. Blearily, he grabbed a pair of boxers and headed past the kitchen, to the bathroom. Slowly his brain began to kick in, and as he was washing his hands he realised that Lagoon had been sat in the kitchen. He peeked through the kitchen door on his way back to bed to find his flatmate at the table, nursing a mug of coffee, in his PJ bottoms. Around him, every available surface was covered in sheets of drawing paper. Hundreds of them. He picked one up, then looked at another. A quick glance round the room confirmed that yes, his friend was up at 8:30am on a Sunday morning, drawing clouds. Lagoon seemed to notice him as he admired one of the pictures, and stubbed out his cigarette, where it joined about ten others. Jamie looked up from his scrutiny of one of the studies, and was rewarded with a slightly sheepish look.

These are really good, Jamie said, holding up the one in his hand. But I have to ask, why clouds? And why now? And didn’t you bring someone home last night?

Lagoon smiled at the barrage of questions. Umm... Clouds felt right... I had to do it, it was just bugging me to go do something. You ever get that on a come down? And yes, I did bring someone back. His name’s Bullet. He’s asleep in my bed.

Jamie nodded. Becky and I saw you both on the dance floor. You tired the poor boy out?

More like the other way around. But I couldn’t sleep. Lagoon shrugged. Never can on come down. Suppose I ought to drink some orange juice or something. Should have done that earlier. Sorry, I’m rambling. What are you up to later? he asked, stretching his arms with a click.

Not much, maybe go for a wonder on the sea front or something. How about you?

Lagoon shrugged. See what Bullet wants to do.

Well, if you're out and about, give us a text. Maybe do drinks on the beach.

Cool. I’ll let you know. Jamie nodded and headed back to bed. Lagoon got up and collected up his clouds, arranging them in a pile on the side, thinking how nice it would be to do that with real clouds. Pick them up and put them out of the way when you wanted sun. Then he headed for his own room.

Fingers brushed tousled hair and sleepy eyes opened. Bed clothes shifted and arms reached out to ease cotton pyjamas past slight hips. Penis throbbed against soft lips and pliant tongue. Storm passed through the lagoon.

The boy with the 120 bpm corona waved at her shyly as the door bell rang. Then Becky realised there was no boy and it was the phone not the door. Blearily she peered over the edge of the bed, trying to shake the fog in her head long enough to work out where she’d left her mobile. Somewhere amidst this pile of clothing, she thought, as she tugged at random items of attire, eventually noticing that her Levi’s were vibrating.

Shit, she said quietly, as the display informed her that it was 1:30pm and it was her mother calling. Rolling over again she took a second to banish her hangover as much as she could, without coffee and cigarettes, or a cold shower. Taking a deep breath, she thumbed the receive button.

Hi Mom!

Rebecca dear, how are you? You sound a little rough. Hard night last night?

Yes, a little. Becky’s Mum always called her Rebecca, and would have been far happier if she had taken the position she’d been offered with the Government. Becky, on the other hand, had hated the idea. At least as club manager she wasn’t bound to do what the majority thought was right. She could make up her own morals.

How are you and Dad? Good trip?

Her mother sighed contentedly on the other end. Oh yes dear. America was beautiful. Such nice people, so polite.

Glad you had a good time. I got your post card, New York looks like a nice place.

It was delightful; and there is some simply divine countryside around the city. Her mother paused. I think you’d like it there, lots of your sort of people. That was Mother speak for ‘it had a good night life’.

Hmm... maybe. Becky sighed, sitting up in bed. I’ll visit some day when I’ve got the money.

Now Rebecca, you’re not in trouble are you...

Becky smiled at the light rebuke in her mothers tone. No Mum. But you know how it is. Travelling is expensive, and I have the club..."

Well, you brought that burden upon yourself. Her mother managed to sound conciliatory and disapproving at the same time.

Yeah, I know. Becky played with the pillow lining.

We’re having a little dinner party next week, friends and family, nothing formal. Your father said I should ask you.

If I want to come? Yeah sure, that would be great. Her parents dinner parties were always worth attending, you never quite knew who might turn up.

It’ll be Wednesday evening, 7:30pm start. Now listen, you go enjoy the rest of your day. It’s gorgeous out there!

Yes Mum. I'll see you Wednesday. Love to Dad... Bye… Becky exhaled in relief as her mother hung up, and slumped back down on her back.

Damn, it wasn’t supposed to be sunny today. The weather girl had predicted rain. Becky never got drunk when it was going to be sunny. Well, not if she could avoid it. She lay there for a few moments, but it was no good, she was awake. Groaning with resignation, she sat up again, swung herself out of bed and headed towards the shower.

Half an hour later found Becky lounging on her balcony, perhaps her favourite place in the world. Sitting here, she could watch the world go by in safety, nursing a cup of coffee without fear of intrusion by anyone else. Her Mum had been right, it was gorgeous out here, now that she was awake and half a mug of coffee better off. She had been trying to remember what happened last night, but couldn’t. Every time she thought about it, her mind kind of glided away off her memories of parts of the two evenings. Both nights carried a touch of the surreal, like seeing memories of a film played back in your head. Friday had felt truly euphoric, but last night had been like a dream. Something had happened, but she wasn’t sure what. She felt like she’d witnessed a miracle, then forgotten it.

Hmm... was that… Barbie with... Ooh hello baby! Not that she held out much hope of her chances if the guy was with Barbie. Still...

Oi, tart! Becky was rewarded with a hurt look from Barbie. She waved, then dove inside to shove her feet in an old pair of sneakers. Grabbing her keys and cigarettes, she ran down stairs.

Lagoon and Bullet walked along the seafront together, holding hands. The sun was blazing down overhead, winking off the sea and bathing the air in light. Lagoon felt deliriously happy, smiling despite the glinting in his eyes that made it difficult not to squint.

So why haven’t I seen you before? he asked.

I’ve always been here, just you could never look before. Bullet looked down at his feet, then glanced over at Lagoon beside him. He bit his lower lip nervously. I wish it didn’t have to be like this between us, but it does. I’d like more, but it isn’t time yet.

Lagoon stopped walking, confusion written across his fair skinned features. Bullet stopped too, turning to face Lagoon on the warm paving stones. Reaching out, he took the other boys hands in his own, breathing deeply of the salty sea breeze, forming words in his mind. Lagoon starred at him, feeling something empty growing inside him without knowing why.

What do you mean? Have I upset you? Was last night not good? He searched those blue eyes, hoping and yet fearful. Bullet, I don't understand what’s going on. For a moment snow drifted across his minds eye.

Bullet looked away, out to sea, as he spoke. Good bye, Lagoon. I'll see you. He turned back and there were tears in his eyes. Lagoon felt moisture upon his own cheeks, as his own vision blurred the world away…

… opening his eyes as Jamie rocked him gently. Hey, honey, its okay. Jamie folded his arms round his flatmate. What’s wrong? Lagoon cast tear filled eyes around to see the beach, crowded as you’d expect on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon. He and Jamie were near the top, away from the sea. Bullet was gone. A hole was there inside where the boy should have been. The empty feeling grew, finding expression through his crying. Jamie hugged him tighter. Hey, is this about Roger and Jack? Did they do anything to you? Jamie held Lagoon protectively. Please don’t cry… please don’t cry.

Lagoon shook his head. ...it wasn’t them... he mumbled. He could feel the sun on his back, and a light breeze was playing in his hair.

Jamie got him to his feet. Lagoon, you’re shaking. You’re not going to faint on me, are you? He looked down at the quivering shape in his arms. Honey, you’re scarring me. Carefully he coaxed Lagoon to his feet. I’m taking you home.

But Lagoon wasn’t listening. Stepping away from Jamie, he tilted his head up, concentrating on the sky. Jamie looked up to see clouds moving in, and realised that the wind had picked up. All around them people were picking up their stuff and heading off the beach. Looking back at Lagoon, he shivered as he watched his friends eyes turn swirling black, brown irises and pale whites eclipsed. Lagoon was still crying and hugged himself as the storm clouds rolled in, the wind whipping at his hair and clothes. Rain started to fall as the temperature plummeted. Jamie reached out uncertainly and touched his shoulder.

I think we should go in now, Lagoon said quietly, his voice harsh from crying. Jamie nodded silently, and turned, accepting his friends embrace. Together they headed up the beach, as the storm clouds swept in from over the sea.

Monday, 26th April.

Angry thunderheads crackled across the sky, throwing lightening around like children who had been denied their sweets. Rain hammered down from their bellies, lashing the town from above while the wind pulled and pushed, throwing the water into every crevice and crack. Through the water streaked shop window it looked like night outside, though Lyana was well aware from the evidence of her clock that it was well past nine ‘o’clock.

If asked to place her parentage, most people would have plumbed for some mixture of Oriental and Celtic, her lack of purity betrayed by the pale skin that clothed her eastern bones. Long jet black hair trailed down her back, currently plaited into a profusion of tiny braids that hung about her visage like so many beaded chains.

There was another rumble of thunder, and Lyana glanced up sharply from her work. Normally storms didn’t bother her, but she sensed real anger in this one. It had been going since yesterday afternoon, with the occasional lull during the evening when it had withdrawn to melancholy rain, pattering gently against the window. Mutely she turned back to her work, working the tiny chisel in her hands across the surface of the carving, then blowing off the dust to examine the end result. The diminutive Oriental swordswoman starred back at her unblinking, hands clasped before her. Lyana smiled. Placing the small statue down on her work table, she got up to go and make coffee.

While the kettle was boiling, she stepped into the back room of her shop, checking that the candles were still burning amongst the various sculptures and book shelves. This constituted only one half of her business. The other, contained within the room at the front of the shop, concerned computing, software mainly, though she did deal in hardware occasionally. Her phone beeped from the other room, and she went to pull it out of her bag, thumbing the alarm off. Nine thirty am, time to open up shop. Walking to the front of the building, she flicked the latch on the door and opened it, peering out into the rain soaked environs of Kensington Gardens. The little pedestrian section of the North Laines was deserted, apart from a stray shop keeper making a dash for it between one of the cafes and his stall outside Snoopers Paradise. Lyana sighed and stepped back inside, stepping across to the small kitchen area she kept in one of the small back rooms, to pour the water over her coffee, adding a little milk and breathing in appreciatively of the rich fumes.

At nine thirty two she got her first call, from the Mayors secretary. Apparently the storm last night had fried some of their systems, and they needed her to make a house call, to see what she could salvage for them. Lyana promised to be there that afternoon, pleading paperwork responsibilities. Setting the phone back down on her work bench, she glanced across at her own unharmed iBook, which sat quiescent on her desk across the room. She sipped her coffee again, pondering the freak lightening strike. Hmm… like I said, angry storm… she murmured, an odd lilt affecting her voice.

After she’d finished her coffee, she turned back to her sculpting, until the door went. Glancing up, she found a rather bedraggled looking Becky standing on her door mat, shaking out her hair. Water ran in swathes off her leather trench coat, and she shivered as the warmth of the room began to seep through the chill.

Hey sweetheart, what brings you out in this weather? She thought a moment. More to the point, what brings you out on a Monday before midday?

Becky sighed ruefully, pushing her hair out of her face. Standing, Lyana came over. Here, let me take that, she said, relieving her friend of the leather jacket and gesturing to a seat as she hung the jacket over the back of it. You want some coffee?

Hmm, yes please. Becky finished wringing out her hair over the mat, and came to sit down, fumbling in her pockets for cigarettes and placing them on the table in front of her while Lyana set the kettle to warm again and found another cup. She returned with the steaming liquid, smiling down at her friend as she handed it over and then went round the table to resume her seat. Becky took a sip from the mug and then set it down on the table.

Thanks Li, you’re a life saver.

Hey, anytime. She picked up her own mug, which she had refilled. So go on then, explain the reason behind this mirage, she said, gesturing at Becky where she sat.

Becky reached behind her self, pulling a CD out of one of the voluminous pockets of her coat. I was wondering if you could take a look at this for me? she said, sliding it across the table. It’s the security log for Saturday night. Something strange happened on my dance floor, and it didn’t make it onto the recording.

Lyana picked the CD up thoughtfully. Normal strange, or…

Becky nodded. Someone circumvented my security, I think. I don’t remember too well, I was feeling a bit odd all weekend. I just wondered if you could have a look for me.

Lyana raised an eyebrow. I helped you put that stuff in, that’s quite some trick. What actually happened?

Becky sighed. As far as I remember it, I was watching the dance floor with a friend, when this boy just suddenly appeared. I think it would have been sometime around midnight, though I couldn’t swear to that.

Hmm... Neat trick if you can do it. Lyana was balancing the CD between finger and thumb, scrutinising the surface. Well, I think you can rule out physical tampering... Becky rolled her eyes ...don't look like that. You’d be amazed what people don’t check themselves. Rolling the CD expertly between her digits, she replaced it in its case. The store had acquired a few customers since Becky arrived and one of them appeared to be trying to work out which of the unlikely contenders was in fact the owner of Brighton’s finest private software business. Lyana glanced up at him and smiled disarmingly. I’ll be with you in a moment, sir, she said politely, turning back to wink at Becky, who stifled a grin. The man went away, and she returned her full attention to her friend.

Can you leave this with me…? Becky nodded … as it’s just I’ve got to go and sort out the town halls in house system this afternoon. I’ll take a look for you tonight, if that’s okay?

Becky nodded. Sure, that will be fine. She got up to go, wrapping her jacket around her shoulders again. I’ll let you get on with business, she said, leaning forwards to exchange a peck on the cheek with the other girl. Thanks for the coffee.

Have a good day, said Lyana, watching her friend swirl out of the shop like an avenging angel. With a sigh, she put her business head on, and turned to the gentleman who had been waiting patiently by one of the bookcase on the far wall.

She was just about to shut up shop for lunch when a spiky haired boy poked his head round the door. Sorry, are you open? he asked, smiling uncertainly.

Lyana nodded, and he stepped inside. What can I do for you? she asked, taking in the boys cheek bones and crumpled jeans.

Well… he shifted his feet looking a little embarrassed. My flatmate has been having these strange dreams over the last few days, and a friend said that you might be able to help him. They’ve been keeping him awake, you see… he trailed off, looking at her uncertainly.

Lyana nodded. I might, yes. She looked thoughtful, pondering who might have put him on to her. Not many people knew about her extra-curricular interests. You said he’s having trouble sleeping?

The boy nodded. He keeps waking up the middle of the night… he quirked his eyebrows in thought. He was actually crying so loud last night that it woke me up. He’s going through a bit of a rough patch at the moment, but it never usually bothers him this much.

Lyana nodded. I like to think of dreams as being like our unconscious sorting things away from the day, clearing up all the things that have gotten piled on the table of our mind, during the day. She placed a finger to her lips, thoughtful. It’s never a good idea, trying to meddle with them, at least in my opinion. I might be able to help him though, if there is something that is bothering him enough to interrupt his sleep. Reaching into the draw of her desk, she pulled out a card, walking over to hand it to him. Here, give him this and tell him to give me a call, or come in and see me. She smiled kindly.

Cheers. A grateful smile split his features, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. He stuffed the card into a pocket. I’ll get him to give you a ring. He paused, then stepped back towards the door. Guess I’d better let you get your lunch, he said. Flashing her a cheeky grin, he left the shop, vanishing out into the grey day. Lyana found herself wondering again who their common friend was. Certainly the number of people who knew about her gift for dreams could be counted on the fingers of her hand, in this world at least. She glanced at the clock and swore subtly. She was going to be late to meet Ariel for lunch. Ah well, nothing to be done about it. Picking up her jacket, she eased into it, picking up her bags and doing a final reconnaissance round the shop, to check all the candles were out. Stepping out the door, into a light rain, she turned to lock the door. Then she set off down the street towards the pub where she was meeting her friend, boot heels clicking on the damp cobbles.

Friday night.

Simon stood in front of the mirror and admired the end result of an hours hard work. His hair fell in neat, dark curtains that just brushed the skin around his cheeks and eyes. The skimpy white shirt clung to his slender torso, accentuating his pectorals, and tapering down towards his waist, where creamy combats hung loosely from his hip bones. The whole thing was tied off with a pair of grey trainers he’d had for years and couldn’t bear to get rid of. Grinning, he silenced the CD player, and turned round to gather his things. Leaning down, he bestowed a kiss to the small statue of the horned god that sat beside a bottle of almost empty wine, its contents a deep blood red that had besmirched his lips crimson. He blew out the candle next to it, and then quit the flat, leaving the candle to send a lonely trail of smoke into the air.

There were a number of advantages to being one of the fey. First and foremost was the immortality, the virtual freedom from the pain and worries attendant to death. Not to say that faeries never died, just that it was an extremely rare thing, and almost never happened through natural causes. For this reason alone, if no other, Simon found human beings fascinating. Then, too, there was the whole question of what came after. It was a question he had only been forced to consider once or twice in his long existence. Personally he wasn’t sure he rated the popular choices himself, but then he had a rather unique view on the matter.

Existentialism did hold interest for him, however, in it’s pertinence to the self. The fey had a very particular situation within this debate, since the self that most people saw wasn’t actually there. People never saw the thing beneath the veil of glamour. A faeries true self was like the storm that is the potentially in a calm sea. As for gods…

Simon groaned, shaking his head. His brain was hurting. I need a drink, he muttered, startling the woman next to him as he leant forwards to peer down the road, looking for the bus that didn’t seem to be coming. His pupils slit vertically, dividing his golden irises as he considered the night ahead with pleasure. It was the last day of April, almost the first day of May; time for the faeries to go out and play. He smiled thoughtfully.

A rumble disturbed his reverie, and the bus shuddered to a stand still in the early evening shower. Simon remade his eyes before the bus driver saw, flowing the woman he’d startled on. The bus pulled away again, down the seafront, towards town. Stepping carefully down it’s length, Simon found a spare seat and swung down into it, settling back into contented anticipation.

Barbie screeched from across the bar as he walked in, and Simon groaned inwardly. He indicated the bar, turning away from his friends to the barman, who appeared to take his order. Charles Street was one of the classier bars in Brighton, still fairly new and able to maintain slightly higher pretensions about being a place where the ‘beautiful people’ came. Wooden floors and soft seating were complemented by a subtle sound system that was playing something mellow by Leftfield. There was a communal toilet downstairs, which had been the talk of the scene for the first week or so that the place had been open. Nodding to the barman, Simon ordered his wine, red of course. Smiling, he handed over his gold card, glancing around the room. It was still early, and there were only a few groups scattered around the room in the choice seating. Signing, he reclaimed his card, pointedly ignoring the barman’s overt interest. Like he’d said, pretensions…

A small smile played across his lips as he wandered over to where Beckjy and Barbie were sat.

Darling, you look ravishing! Barbie spoiled the effect by hiccupping and failing to take his eyes off Simon’s crotch. Becky did infinitely better.

Good to see you hun, she said, half rising to give him a peck on the cheek.

And you too, he replied. You look fabulous, he added, taking in the shimmering blue cocktail dress that came just far enough down her thighs to be decent, leaving her perfect legs bare down to leather boots cut just below the knee. The only concession to Becky’s regular style was a leather biker jacket, slung over the back of her seat. Even her arm had been remodelled in translucent blue metal. Her hair was a cascade of dark braids, falling about her shoulders.

Lyana did it for me, she said, noting his gaze. What do you think?

Simon nodded, taking the seat opposite them both. You look stunning, as always. They both noticed Barbie sulking, and stifled a grin. Hey, Becky said, reaching out to lay a hand gently on his arm. You always look beyond amazing, she reassured him. Barbie’s face lit up again.

Talk turned to the coming weekend, meandering from there around work and old friends. They chatted amiably, and as the evening progressed, more people arrived to join the group, and their circle expanded.

Later that evening, Becky sought Simon out again, a curious expression on her face.

How are we doing my lady? he asked, raising his third glass of wine to her. You look like someone with a question on her mind.

Becky nodded. I wanted to talk to you… I had a bit of an odd experience last weekend… Simon nodded that she should go on. "…Well, last Friday night, we were kicking