Paragon

⊰❉⊱ 31 ⊰❉⊱

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here."
― William Shakespeare

She drifted to sleep in the car.

I noticed her hair slip over her face and her breathing slow as we drove quickly to the airport. She wore a white t-shirt and jeans now favouring comfort over fashion. When the car stopped I took a breath before scooping her into my arms and carrying her out the cool interior.

She shifted, not bothering to open her eyes as the humid air hit us on the runway. My driver nodded to me and retrieved our bags behind. I strode swiftly up the stairs to the jet trying to focus on each step. Each movement and not her close proximity and impossible scent. My staff smiled warmly in understanding as I passed them with nods. The pilot was already preparing for a brisk takeoff.

The metal was drawn shut behind us and I walked us into the bedroom at the back before laying her carefully down on the bed. I rose quickly despite a grumbling protest from a half conscious mortal.

"I'll be back." I promised, shutting the door behind me.

The engines hummed around me as I walked down the aisle. I passed the attendants as they took their seats and buckled in for takeoff. They politely averted their gaze and talked in murmurs as I went for the metal cabinets that stored the drinks and food. Though I sort a very different liquid.

The packets were chrome and a pint each. The mortals were none the wiser to what they truly contained. I emptied them into a metal bottle. The dark blood dragged my teeth out. I had already left it too long since I had last sated the growing need. I had felt weaker. Less impossibly strong as I tore through the guards in that compound with William. Another reason for the guns.

I screwed the top on and discarded the packets below.

I took one of the seats and stared out the window as we taxied down the Indian airport. Another brief stay. Another ghost stop.

I pulled the bottle to my lips and the rich liquid hit me like a long lost surge. Powerful and eternal. I drank deeply. The strength rushed my body. Suddenly I was able to think clearly and see in more detail. The ever burning in my throat reduced to just a whisper rather than a shout. When I finally set the empty bottle down I sighed long and low.

My razor edged teeth retracted and I screwed the cap on.

It won't be impossible to lie next to her now. I could have less fear of losing control now. I drummed my fingers against the wooden table. Yet why did I hesitate... For some reason the idea of lying next to a mortal of such innocence made me cringe after the deeds I'd just actioned. Not five hours ago I was painting the walls with corpses. Letting my nature come to life in full unrestrained carnage. Quinn could not be further from that life. Yet here she was. Knowing what I am and overlooking it.

I grit my teeth and heard a crack. I paused my fingers and realised the force had sunk into the wood and splintered a small part of the table. I sighed through my nose in frustration and tried to calm my mind.

But all I could see when I shut my eyes were empty mortal eyes. So much blood. I hunted monsters in London. Paragon did not care who was on the other side of their objectives. So long as the job was done–

"Fletcher?"

I flinched and my eyes landed on Quinn.

"Is everything okay?" She asked, glancing down at the dent my hand had made in the table.

"Yes. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb–"

"I don't care about a few lost hours of sleep, detective. I don't even know what time it is anymore." She said dryly, looking out at the night beyond the windows.