Chapter Text
It was cold and damp, a heaviness hung in the air and Mitchell kept his head down, watching the litter flutter lazily in the wind. He hunched his shoulders and pulled his jacket tighter against the cold. He hated days off, days off gave him time to think, time alone. So he was walking aimlessly, he’d walked for miles. Anything was better than sitting in Carl’s flat again, when even making a cup of tea wrenched his heart. He hadn’t made tea for himself in months until he left Barry. That was Annie’s forte, to keep him in hot drinks and hot food. She’d washed his clothes and ironed his bedsheets , she even liked to do his hair. She cared. Cared about him so much, loved and nurtured him. Made him better.
Not anymore.
Mitchell was not worthy of the love and care of someone like Annie, someone pure and good. Hell, he wasn’t worthy of the love and care of anyone. He wasn’t worthy to be walking these streets.
We shouldn’t be in houses in streets where there’s children.
You loaded a gun and fired it into a crowd.
He was the bullet, John Mitchell.
One hundred and eighteen years old. A vampire. Not a human being. A monster. A plague. He would kill again. And again. No matter where he ran he would kill, it didn’t matter what he did, it was as inevitable as sunrise.
Mitchell knew how many people he’d killed. He saw their faces when he closed his eyes. Other vampires lost count, or at least lost count if they reached the number that he had. He’d told Carl one night, his old friend, who was now his only friend. Carl had quickly rearranged his face, but Mitchell had seen the horror. Carl wasn’t even much younger than him, just a lot more successful at staying clean. Or maybe he wasn’t the monster Mitchell was, wasn’t the legend, you didn’t become a legend by one hundred and eighteen for nothing. They feared Mitchell, the other vampires. He’d seen them occasionally, under Waterloo Bridge, outside Kings Cross Station, looking for easy pickings amongst the dregs of humanity.
They saw him too. Saw him, averted their eyes, some fled. He was a killer of kings, not once but twice. He was the infamous John Mitchell of the Box Tunnel Twenty. The man who made a chapter of vampires renounce blood, then wrecked terrible revenge on mankind when he was betrayed. He was friend of werewolves, he killed his maker. They knew not whether he was friend or foe and it terrified them, he terrified them. They were right to be afraid. It was the poor people he passed on this cold, grey Wednesday morning who were fools, they didn’t know who he was, they should be running from him, the monster in their midst.
Mitchell was about to turn and head back home when he heard the woman scream.
‘Stop it, get off!’ she shouted, her high pitched cry piercing the drab hum of the street. ‘Help me! Get off!’
He looked up and saw a blonde woman a few feet in front of him desperately tugging at her handbag, which was being wrenched from her by a thick set youth, black hood pulled forward over his face, a malicious mouth curved in a snarl.
‘Let go, you little bitch,’ her assailant hissed, a knife flicking from his wrist as he spoke.
Mitchell didn’t think, he just moved with a speed and agility that took the youth by surprise when he found Mitchell’s hand around his throat.
‘Leave the lady alone,’ Mitchell said, his anger permeating every syllable.
The mugger was no amateur it seemed, quickly recovering his wits he pointed his knife to Mitchell’s guts.
‘Get off me or I’ll stick this in yer,’ he snarled in Mitchell’s face. Mitchell laughed. He actually laughed. If only dying was that easy for him. He saw the fear in the youth’s eyes. That was meant to frighten people. Mitchell wasn’t frightened.
‘You give that to me, then you run, far far away from here, because if I ever see you again you will wish you’d never been born.’ His voice was low and dangerous. The youth was breathing hard, trying to decide on his next move, the knife was still pressed into Mitchell’s stomach. Mitchell shook his head. ‘You’re not running. Run, I’m your worst nightmare.’ He looked directly into the boy’s eye and let his own eyes turn black, opened his mouth with a low hiss, fangs showing. Oh how he wanted to sink them into that thick neck, tear his tendons and arteries, drink that hot red blood. He moved his head incrementally closer to the now frozen youth’s neck, a snarl.
Now it was a male’s screams that filled the air as the mugger wrenched himself free of Mitchell’s grip and ran, the knife dropping with a metallic thud on the pavement. The boy ran for his life through the crowd, screaming and not daring to look back.
Mitchell retracted his fangs quickly. He turned around to see the blonde woman leaning against a lamp post, tears in her eyes.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked softly. She was shaking, clutching her handbag to her chest. She was a pretty woman, light blonde hair cut into a bob and a turquoise coat which brought out her blue eyes.
‘Thank you,’ she stuttered. ‘Oh my god, you saved my life. Maybe even literally, he had a knife, oh god, he had a knife. And this bag has my phone, my ipad for work, all of Anders’s clients stuff is on it, I mean it’s backed up, but I’ve just been to a meeting with the boat cruise people and there’s all this news stuff –‘
Mitchell put his hand on her arm, smiling softly, she was panicking and babbling. ‘Shushh, it’s alright now, he won’t be back. Take a deep breath. That’s it.’ He smiled kindly as she composed herself, wiping at the corners of her eyes then searching in her big black handbag for a tissue.
‘You were amazing, so brave, that was incredible, I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘Thank you’s enough,’ Mitchell shrugged. It felt good, playing the hero. It reminded him with a sharp pang of Bernie. He wondered how the kid was getting on. Did he hate Mitchell yet?
‘Oh god, I’m a mess,’ the woman babbled. ‘I’m a complete mess and now I’m going to be late back and my boss rang me before and has a million new things for me to do.’
‘Hey, first thing first, you need to get back safely. You’re heading for your office?’
‘Yeah, it’s just round the corner.’
‘I’ll walk you.’ He was pleased to see her smile in gratitude.
‘That is so kind of you, because I’m kind of terrified right now.’
‘No problem. I’m Mitchell by the way.’
‘Dawn, nice to meet you.’ She held out her hand clumsily from under her handbag, which was still clamped to her chest. Mitchell shook it and grinned. ‘Come on then, Dawn, where are we headed?’
‘Just round the corner, JPR, public relations.’
Mitchell offered her his arm as she took a couple of faltering steps, but she politely declined and fell into step beside him.
‘You were amazing, scaring that guy off like that, I don’t know how you did it, but I’m so grateful,’ she said, calmer this time.
‘Guys like that are cowards, if you stand your ground they quickly bottle it,’ Mitchell said easily. Especially if you’re a monster, he thought to himself.
‘Where are you from? You don’t sound local, I’d say Scottish, but I’m terrible with accents.’
‘I’m Irish, but I’ve been in England a while. Lived all over really. How about you? You sound like you’re a long way from home too.’
‘I’m from Auckland, New Zealand. My boss had some kind of crisis and decided he wanted to relocate, and I’d always wanted to travel, so I came with him and he set up a business here. It’s great, I love London, especially now my boyfriend’s here too.’
‘Wow, that’s a big move.’
‘Yeah, but Anders is so great at what he does, we have so many clients. My job is to hold on to them.’
‘Is he not good at that?’ Mitchell asked with a smile, he could imagine the type Anders was, all slick suits and smiles hiding a ruthless streak.
‘Let’s just say his forte is getting business. He loses interest quickly.’
‘In business? That sounds tough.’
‘In everything, clients, women, countries. Oh, I’m making him sound terrible.’ Mitchell laughed. ‘He’s amazing with people. He talks and people just listen.’
Mitchell smiled again, he liked Dawn. And he’d rescued her, one good act. A tiny counterweight to the horrors on his score sheet.
‘Well, this is me,’ she said after a few more minutes chattering away about her boss, who sounded like a slave driver, and her boyfriend, who had just moved here and was apparently in some way related to her boss.
Mitchell looked up at the non-descript, modern glass fronted office building. One of the logos on the door was for JPR, they were on the third floor.
‘Look, why don’t you come up for a coffee, it’s the least I can do seeing as you saved my life. Anders will be on his lunch now.’
‘You just said you had no time for lunch.’
‘I don’t, he does. But today, stuff Anders, I am having my lunch on the sofa, not at my desk, because working and eating is bad for your digestion, especially when you’ve had a shock and Anders can just, he can just,’ she searched for the right word. ‘He can stick it.’ She nodded firmly. There was something about Dawn that appealed, she had a sweet nature, an innocent soul in a cynical world. She reminded him a little of Annie, even though the two women couldn’t have looked more different.
‘Okay, I’ll have a coffee,’ Mitchell smiled. It would be good to get out of the cold and it wasn’t like he had anything to do, any friends or, god forbid, a romance.
He followed Dawn up the stairs and into smart offices, there was a large glass conference table in the middle of the room, a black desk by the door, immaculately tidy onto which Dawn placed her hand bag, and a large leather sofa and glass coffee table in the corner. Behind Dawn’s desk was a bank of smart black wood filing cabinets, printers, the usual array of office equipment. Towards the back of the office there was a glass partition and what was evidently her boss’s desk, messier than Dawn’s, but still less cluttered than the desks at the hospital where Mitchell worked. He thought how expensive and slick this office was, with the JPR logo on the cream walls, the expensive looking bouquets of flowers, the leather chairs. He noticed an open door leading to a kitchenette area, there were two unopened bottles of champagne on the side.
‘Ah, Dawn,’ a man’s voice called out. He had the same accent as Dawn. ‘There you are, where have you been? Now, I have a question for you, if you were going to sleep with a guy on a first date would you bother with a river cruise, or should you skip straight to the drinking?’ As he spoke the man spun round to face them in his large leather office chair. He was fair haired, good looking with blue eyes, an easy smile and dimples, his face lightly covered with stubble. He was dressed in a suit, but the button on his shirt was undone and his tie loose. He was half lying back in his chair with his feet on the desk, waving a brochure with a picture of a boat on the front.
‘Hello, Anders,’ Dawn said, rolling her eyes. ‘I don’t know, I wouldn’t plan that.’
‘Hmmm, well think about it, these river boats are missing a trick I think. Are you going to introduce me to your friend?’ Mitchell felt the man’s eyes upon him. He could see Anders appraising him, noticing his old boots, his unkempt hair and generally scruffy appearance, which was more apparent in this trendy, slick office.
‘Mitchell, this is Anders Johnson, my boss. Anders, this is Mitchell, who saved me from being mugged just now. He was amazing, frightened off a guy with a knife.’
She smiled at Mitchell and looked at Anders, daring him not to be impressed, despite Mitchell’s appearance.
Anders now sitting up properly and was staring at Mitchell, his face now serious. He seemed distracted, focused on Mitchell, it was as if he had barely heard Dawn. Mitchell shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, he was looking at him with a searching gaze that Mitchell didn’t like, it was as if he knew there was more to Mitchell than met the eye.
‘Oh God, Dawn, that’s terrible,’ Anders said, finally pulling his gaze from Mitchell and standing up to give Dawn an awkward hug. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Thanks to Mitchell here I’m fine,’ she answered. ‘A little shaken, but I’ll be fine.’ Mitchell noticed Dawn’s hands were still shaking.
‘Good girl. Because we had loads of calls while you were out.’
Dawn nodded, a resigned look on her face. Mitchell frowned, glancing at her, then Anders. The guy was an arsehole, his concern seemed short lived.
‘The guy was pretty rough,’ Mitchell said, fixing his gaze on Anders. ‘Dawn should probably take some time to recover. Or at least sit down until she stops shaking.’
Anders met his gaze, his eyes were very blue Mitchell noted, his face impassive, then he turned back to Dawn, patted her shoulder and adopted a concerned voice.
‘Quite right, you’ve had a terrible ordeal. We should call the police. Hell, there must be CCTV, they could catch the guy. Where was it?’
‘Just round the corner, outside Wetherspoons.’
‘They’ll definitely have CCTV. Dawn, you take a seat, I’ll call the police. Do you want to call Ty, he’d want to take care of you.’
Dawn nodded and pointed to her desk. ‘I’ll just go let him know.’
Mitchell felt panic rising. ‘You think it’s worth going to the police?’ he asked, trying to sound casual. ‘They won’t catch the guy, they never do. Dawn will just get a load of hassle having to give a statement and it might be, you know, traumatic, to relive it.’
Anders looked puzzled. ‘She was mugged, of course we have to phone the police. Are you in trouble with the law of something?’ Anders asked, his gaze again searching Mitchell in a way that made him really uncomfortable.
‘No, no, nothing like that.’ Well there was that too but vampires had people in the right places to take care of that, mainly he was worried about the CCTV footage. Trust him to turn a good deed into a crisis that could reveal the existence of his species.
‘I had a cousin who was mugged once,’ he lied. Well it wasn’t all a lie, he’d had a cousin, once. She died of cancer in 1954, he’d read her death notice in the paper and hadn’t left the house for a week afterwards. She was the last family member who had known him. ‘She just wanted to forget about it. Police will drag everything up, she’ll have to take loads of time off work,’ he added, trying to appeal to the slave driver in Anders, from the little Dawn had told him it sounded like he could ill afford to lose her.
‘Dawn will be fine,’ Anders said, waving away Mitchell’s concern. ‘But you should hang around, speak to the police, do you want coffee?’ Anders was suddenly attentive, rushing to make coffee in the expensive coffee machine before Mitchell could protest.
The next hour was spent drinking coffee and chatting to Dawn while they waited for the police. Mitchell had considered running off, but as he saw Dawn tearfully trying to cancel her afternoon meeting he changed his mind. Instead he put his arms around her as she cried, before sitting with her, chatting to her about anything he could think of to take her mind off what had happened. She liked old movies and seemed less upset when he talked her through recommendations as Anders called their afternoon meetings to cancel. It still surprised him people hadn’t seen Laurel and Hardy, was he that old now? Mitchell smiled softly as Dawn laughed through her tearful sniffs as he told her how great they were. ‘How on earth did you even hear of them?’ she’d asked him. What could he say to that?
Mitchell eventually found himself going through the attack with a thankfully disinterested and time pressed policewoman and sipping a third cup of rather excellent coffee. Anders hovered behind him as he spoke, he seemed determined not to let Mitchell out of his sight, it made Mitchell deeply uncomfortable. Not only that but the policewoman was over heating in the office in her heavy uniform, Anders had for some reason turned the heating on when his brother arrived, and her pulse was racing, the blood close to the skin. Mitchell could hear it, feel it. He knew it was making him appear twitchy and uncomfortable. He tried to keep his cool and rattled off a false address when she asked where she could find him. Not entirely false, he’d lived there before, in 1937.
Finally, the policewoman stood up and Anders showed her out. Dawn was sitting with her boyfriend, Ty, on the sofas, having already given her statement. Ty was apparently Anders’s brother, though they looked nothing alike, Ty was pale skinned and dark haired. Mitchell supposed Ty was a good looking man, though he found himself thinking Anders was better looking, very nice looking in fact. It was just a shame he seemed to be such a dick. Mitchell stood watching Ty and Dawn, rubbing his hands together, feeling really cold in this part of the office, despite knowing Anders had turned the heating on when Ty arrived.
‘Dawn, why don’t you take the rest of the day off,’ Anders suggested, having an apparent change of heart. ‘You’ve had a terrible ordeal.’
Mitchell wondered if it was Ty’s presence that caused Anders’s change in attitude. Ty seemed nice, and far more sincere than Anders.
‘Are you sure?’ Dawn asked.
‘Yes. Ty, take care of her.’
Ty nodded and spoke softly to Dawn as he helped her with her coat, he approached Mitchell before he left.
‘Thank you again, I am so grateful. If anything happened to Dawn I don’t know what I’d do,’ he clasped Mitchell’s hand, shaking it in gratitude. ‘It’s nice to know there’s still decent people in the world.’
‘Our new friend’s quite the hero,’ Anders smirked at Ty. Mitchell shifted uncomfortably again. There was something about Anders that made him nervous, he couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt Anders knew he’d lied to the policewoman. Then Dawn thanked him again, giving him a peck on the cheek. God, her neck was so close, her blood. She had such translucent skin, he could see the veins. He pulled back from her quickly and was relieved when she and Ty left and it was just Anders, leaning against a wall staring at him appraisingly.
‘So, was there anything you told that policewoman that was true?’ Anders asked as soon as Ty and Dawn had shut the door.
‘What?’ Mitchell was startled by Anders’s frankness, he had thought he’d done a reasonable job of lying under the circumstances.
‘Please, you were shifty as anything. What have you done? Killed someone?’ Anders laughed. He helped himself to a bottle of beer and tossed one to Mitchell who was still standing on the spot, wondering why the horrible craving for blood he’d had since that policewoman had arrived had disappeared. Hell, he’d had to physically restrain himself when Dawn kissed him, but there was Anders, a living breathing human and Mitchell felt nothing.
‘You’re quiet for a hero,’ Anders continued. ‘Anyway, cheers, to you saving Dawn from the evil clutches of a monster.’ Anders raised his bottle and took a long swig.
Not a werewolf, Mitchell thought, smelt wrong. Definitely not a ghost. So why didn’t he want his blood.
‘Cheers,’ Mitchell said, taking a long drink. It was warmer now, maybe the heating was finally kicking in. He looked at Anders, who was still watching him. ‘How did you know I lied?’ he asked finally, deciding it was pointless to pretend otherwise.
‘You looked really shifty, also, what the hell is a guy like you doing working as a hospital porter?’
‘A guy like me?’
‘Yeah. So, what’s the story?’
Mitchell sighed. Maybe it was time to roll out his usual line. ‘I’ve had problems in the past, with, um, addiction. Police make me kind of nervous.’
‘You’re drinking beer.’
‘Alcohol wasn’t my drug,’ he replied, a small smile on his lips. Oh no, alcohol wasn’t his drug at all. Blood was. So why wasn’t he desperate to rip Anders’s throat out? There was something strange about Anders, and his brother. He hadn’t wanted Ty’s blood either now he thought about it.
‘Ah, a junkie.’
God, this guy was an arsehole. Mitchell wondered what he was still doing there. Was he that lonely and pathetic these days, or was it that, despite himself, he found Anders rather attractive? Christ, how long was it since he had looked at a guy like that? A long time indeed. Mitchell briefly wondered if he remembered what to do. He looked at Anders sprawling himself on the sofa, his trousers were grey and well fitted. Yes, he remembered.
‘So, John Mitchell, what do you really do?’
‘I work in a hospital, mopping the floors.’ Anders laughed and Mitchell scowled. ‘I really do.’
‘Oh Jesus, you’re not joking.’ Anders was still laughing a little. ‘Look, as a thank you for helping Dawn I’ll get you some modelling work or something.’
Mitchell laughed now. Was there ever a more unsuitable model? ‘I’m good thanks.’ He watched Anders shaking his head in disbelief at Mitchell’s words and wondered if Anders was coming on to him.
Anders drained his beer and opened another. ‘So, it was your ambition to work in a hospital mopping floors? Shouldn’t you be a cop or something with your superhero powers?’ Anders asked passing Mitchell a second bottle of beer.
‘I was in the army once,’ Mitchell said with a smile. ‘It didn’t end well.’
‘No?’
‘Trouble with the army is, you have to go to war.’ Mitchell took a swig, there was something that wasn’t right, he felt different with Anders. He still didn’t want to rip his throat out, even with the annoying questions. And it wasn’t just because he was attractive. Oh god, Mitchell he thought to himself, you can’t fancy him. He’s an idiot, and besides Mitchell had proven he couldn’t do relationships. On the other hand it had been so long, far too long since he’d felt the warmth of someone’s lips on his, or the comfort of being in someone’s arms.
Anders put his bottle down and sat beside Mitchell on the sofa and looked into his eyes. When he spoke again it was with a deeper, more melodic voice.
‘Now, why don’t you tell me why you lied to the policewoman, what your real name is and where you really work? Then maybe we can go for a beer, and if you’re that way inclined, maybe more.’
Mitchell sat slightly stunned. Part of him inexplicably wanted to do what Anders was suggesting, a bigger part of him wanted to know what the fuck this Kiwi guy thought he was playing at.
‘What the fuck was that?’ Mitchell asked, his face half way between puzzled and disgusted. ‘Did you hit on me? Or were you testing out your Jedi mind powers?’
Anders backed away immediately, red in the face, but staring at Mitchell intently. Mitchell stared back. Not a werewolf, definitely not a ghost, almost certainly not another vampire, though there was a tiny chance. But there was something different about this man, something that set him apart.
‘What are you?’ Mitchell asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. As he asked the same words tumbled out of Anders’s mouth. They looked at each other, wary, but curious.
‘Vampire,’ Mitchell admitted, sighing and leaning back on the sofa.
‘Vampire?’ Anders asked, laughing. ‘Oh god, that is…Jesus, you’re not joking. What, really?’
‘Yeah,’ Mitchell replied, annoyed. ‘What the hell are you? You’re not a werewolf, or a ghost.’
‘Of course I’m fucking not, I’m a bloody god! Bragi, Norse god of poetry.’
Now it was Mitchell’s turn to laugh. ‘You? You’re a god? Look, I’m one hundred and eighteen years old, I’ve seen a lot of weird stuff, but never a walking, living god. And certainly not one like you.’
‘You’re questioning me? Okay, Mr Vampire man, how come you’re out in daylight, not hidden in a coffin or drinking my blood?’
‘Oh that coffin thing’s a myth,’ Mitchell said, waving his hand dismissively. ‘And I don’t want your blood, that’s how I knew there was something, well, different about you.’
‘What?’ Anders looked confused.
‘You’re not like other people.’ Mitchell sighed. ‘Can I smoke?’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Anders said, not bothered, only wanting to hear more about vampires. Mitchell fiddled with his tobacco, rolling up a cigarette and lighting it before continuing.
‘I crave blood, all vampires do, all the time. Everyone I meet, I notice their veins, I can hear their pulse. I want their blood. But not you.’
‘Don’tcha fancy me?’ Anders smirked. Mitchell found himself blushing.
‘I don’t want your blood, because you’re not fully human.’
‘So you drink blood, right? That’s gross.’ Anders shuddered. ‘I fucking hate blood. No offence, but ugh.’
Mitchell shook his head. ‘I don’t, not anymore. I mean, I do occasionally, but in a safe way. So most of the time I don’t, I’m clean.’ He mumbled the last words, they were not strictly true. He thought of his and Carl’s scheme, it was working so far. No deaths.
‘You’re a fucking vampire, but you don’t drink blood? You’re a worse vampire than we’re gods. Why don’t you just drink blood?’
Mitchell looked at Anders incredulously. ‘Because it kills people,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to kill any more people.’
Anders stopped and stared at Mitchell, now entirely serious. ‘You killed people?’
Mitchell nodded, casting his eyes downwards. He felt dirty admitting it. How did this alleged god not know that’s what vampires did, it was what they were. ‘It’s what we are,’ he said grimly. ‘We’re sharks. But I don’t want to be like that.’
‘So you’re not going to kill me?’ He didn’t sound worried, just vaguely amused, he didn’t seem to take it seriously at all.
‘No.’
Anders nodded and watched as Mitchell smoked, using his empty beer bottle as an ashtray. Mitchell felt himself squirming under his gaze. Why did this bloody man have to expose him so quickly? He felt ashamed, he didn’t want to be this thing.
‘Phew, well cheers to that.’ Anders raised his beer bottle.
‘So,’ Mitchell said, dropping the last of his cigarette into the bottle. ‘How did you become a god? Does that give you powers?’
‘On my twenty-first birthday and yes it does,’ Anders replied, sounded rather pleased with himself again. ‘Many generations ago the Norse gods made the, incredibly stupid, decisions to leave Asgard and walk amongst the mortals, I am a decedent of those gods, as are my family. When we turn twenty one we become the living incarnation of a Norse deity, nobody knows who until their birthday. I’m Bragi, my brothers are Ullr, Hodr and Odin, mum was Freya, and dad Njord. Grandpa is Baldar.’
‘But you’re not Norse, how come you’re a Kiwi?’
‘Because the mortals started to persecute us, that’s what, the stupid Jesus freaks and their bible bashing shite. We bravely ran away, to New Zealand, which isn’t so bad actually, because Norway’s fucking expensive.’
Mitchell nodded trying to process all this.
‘I thought you were a god actually, maybe some kind of Celtic god,’ Anders said, still sizing up Mitchell.
‘Me?’ Mitchell was surprised, and intrigued. ‘Why?’
‘When you walked in here, you seemed,’ Anders searched for the right word. ‘Powerful, I could sense something, the same feeling I had when I met really powerful gods and goddesses, like Loki. Not Odin, I mean Axl seems about as powerful as a gerbil, but proper gods. Freya too, before I realised she was mum after being a tree.’
‘What?’ Mitchell asked, starting to laugh. ‘Your mum was a tree?’
‘Yeah, look it’s not funny. She’d had enough of gods, dad shot through when Axl was a baby, so on Mike’s twenty-first she told him he was Ullr, god of the hunt and god of games, then walked off into the forest to become a tree, leaving Mike to raise the rest of us. She came back in another mortal incarnation a few years later. But now she’s a tree again.’
‘Right,’ Mitchell nodded, his mouth hanging open gormlessly.
‘Anyway, when I met you, I could tell there was something. That’s why I didn’t believe you about the hospital shit. I thought you’d used your powers to save Dawn.’
‘I did.’ Mitchell watched Anders sit up in interest.
‘How?’
Mitchell let his eyes go black and showed his teeth, only for a moment.
‘Holy fuck!’ Anders cried out. ‘Shit, you’re really fucking…Jesus!’
‘I did lie about my date of birth too, I was born in eighteen-ninety-four, died in nineteen -seventeen.’
‘Christ.’ Anders looked like shocked now, Mitchell could tell this was the first time he’d actually believed he was a vampire. ‘I need another drink,’ he said as he went to get more beer, opening Mitchell’s bottle for him.
It was liberating in a way, to be honest. He couldn’t remember when he was last in company that didn’t make him crave blood and lie. He took a swig of his beer and decided he’d been wrong about Anders. He was a gobshite for sure, but he was refreshingly non-judgemental. Maybe he’d play along for a bit, plus he wanted to find out about gods, that was a new one on him. He was sure vampires didn’t know there were living incarnations of Norse gods walking the earth. And hadn’t Anders sort of cracked on to him before? Mitchell smiled his most seductive smile, he might enjoy this one.
‘So, what are your powers? Do you know every poem ever written?’
Anders laughed, having recovered himself after Mitchell’s revelation. ‘Fuck no, much cooler. The power of my words bends mortals to my will.’
‘Which means?’
‘People do what I say, I can persuade people of do, or think what I tell them.’
‘Comes in handy for a PR man?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Is that what you were trying to do to me before?’
‘Yeah, well, I had my suspicions, I was testing you.’
‘It was weird, I wanted to do what you suggested.’
‘Not that much obviously.’
‘What normally happens?’
‘If you were mortal, you’d have told me the truth.’
Anders took a swig of his beer and Mitchell appreciated his throat, he watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and wondered if his stubble was the same colour as the rest of his body hair.
‘I’d have given you my phone number too?’ Mitchell sat back and smiled, waiting for Anders to react to that. Dawn had mentioned him having lots of women, but Mitchell had been around long enough to know when a man was making a move on him.
‘If you were that way inclined,’ Anders said going red. He was obviously embarrassed about that one, but didn’t back down.
‘I can be,’ Mitchell said after a pause, enjoying his discomfort after his cockiness earlier. ‘So, you’d have my phone number. Would you have called?’
Anders laughed. ‘Well, as you couldn’t fail to look better out of your clothes than in them, I’d say I would have.’
‘Hey!’ Mitchell was affronted.
‘Look, that may have been in fashion last century, but you’re wearing biker boots with tracksuit trousers, mate.’
‘I’ll have you know I’ve never been knocked back for my style.’
‘Who says I was knocking you back? So do you?’
‘What?’
‘Look better naked?’
Mitchell fixed Anders with his gaze, took a swig from his beer and grinned. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’
‘Perhaps.’ Anders came and sat beside Mitchell. ‘Why don’t you and me go for a little drink, I know a nice bar near here. You can tell me all about being a vampire, and I can show you the power of my words. Then,’ he edged closer to Mitchell so their knees touched, Mitchell felt a tingle of excitement go through him. ‘We can see if we can’t find somewhere for you to show me if I’m right.’
‘Right about what?’
‘Right that you look much better out your clothes than in.’ Anders put his hand on Mitchell’s thigh and edged it up. Mitchell was torn, part of him knew he should put a stop to this, but another part of him wanted Anders, here and now. His hand felt incredibly hot and heavy, he could feel himself hardening as Anders’s hand wandered north. When was the last time? He’d had sex with some of the girls he fed from, but that was blood sex, he didn’t desire them in the slightest, the last time he’d had sex that wasn’t about blood? Daisy? God no, that was all the blood. Lucy. Lucy was the last time. It made Mitchell want to sleep with Anders even more, to erase that memory. The last time with a man? That would be at least five or six years ago, that wasn’t a bad memory. Yes, maybe this was a good idea.
‘The advantage of wearing jogging pants,’ Anders said, speaking softly close to Mitchell’s face. ‘Is that I can feel how hard you are without undoing anything.’ He let his hand rest on Mitchell’s crotch. Mitchell opened his mouth in a small gasp, he hadn’t expected things to move that fast.
‘Let’s go get that drink,’ he murmured, before making an effort to pull himself together. He stood up, leaving Anders leaning over an empty space and made for the door, knowing Anders was following him and smiling. It was a strange and unexpectedly good afternoon.
~
Anders wasn’t sure where to take Mitchell, he was dressed too casually for the usual haunts, he wondered if a gay bar was too full on, in the end he settled for a pub a couple of streets away, the Queen Charlotte, it was full of dark wood and leather seats, with lots of nooks and crannies in its old, rickety building. He and Mitchell found a table in a corner to themselves and opted to share a bottle of white wine. Anders poured Mitchell a glass and the filled his own.
‘Cheers,’ he said. ‘Or skal as we say in the old language,’ he raised his glass.
‘Cheers,’ Mitchell grinned. Christ he was attractive. Anders didn’t know whether to hate himself for it; the man dressed like some kind of vagrant, he was wearing tracksuit trousers with biker boots and a leather jacket, under his jacket he was wearing a dark checked shirt over a grey vest, which showed plenty of chest hair and some kind of necklace. Worst of all were the gloves, green fingerless gloves which he’d finally removed to reveal several silver rings. He was so far from Anders’s usual type (pretty boys and girls who were as fashionable as they were fickle) it was untrue. But he was also beautiful, far more beautiful than anyone else Anders had ever met. He had longish curly hair that, despite looking like it could do with a wash, framed his face well, and what a face; sharp cheek bones highlighted by rough black stubble on his cheeks and jaw, full red lips that Anders was having some seriously filthy fantasies about and dark hazel eyes that bore into him from under thick eyebrows. And a vampire, that was a new one.
‘So,’ Mitchell said. ‘What brought you to London?’
Anders sighed, he didn’t want to relive the story of Idunn, it was a fucking disaster, he was doing well over here and Mitchell was too gorgeous to risk appearing like a freak who had no control over their life. ‘Ah, just looking for a new adventure,’ he lied. ‘How about you?’
‘Seemed the natural choice after the war, I couldn’t go home, people would know me. So I came to England, lived in other places, but mainly here.’
‘What war was that?’
‘First World War.’
‘You’re kidding? No, you’re not. Fuck, you’re older than Grandpa.’
‘How old’s he?’
‘Ninety-two, going on twenty-two. He’d Baldr, god of rebirth, so every morning he’s reborn, he ages super slowly. We tell people he’s my cousin. He’s also an oracle, knows stuff. Or not in his case.’
‘Have all your family got powers?’
‘Yeah, mine are the coolest though.’
‘What can they do?’
‘Well, there’s Mike. He’s the oldest, he’s Ullr, god of the hunt, so he can find anything or anyone, no point hiding from Mike. He’s also god of games, so he can win any game he plays.’
‘That sounds really cool,’ Mitchell sounded genuinely impressed. Anders frowned.
‘It would be if he used his fucking powers, he’s so uptight. Anyway,’ he said hurriedly moving on. ‘After me there’s Ty, he drew the short straw, he’s Hodr, god of all things cold and dark. He makes things cold, he can freeze things, it’s not great for the guy.’
‘Is that why you turned the hearing on when he turned up?’
‘Yeah, sucks, doesn’t it? And then there’s Axl, he’s Odin, the all father, sort of king of Norse gods. Which is a joke, having your baby brother be the daddy of the gods, I can tell you. He can barely tie his own shoe laces. He can’t do anything as such, but when he gets his powers, we all get our powers. Full powers that is, not these watered down versions.’
‘How does he get his powers?’
‘Needs to find his Frigg.’
‘His what?’ Mitchell laughed.
‘Odin’s wife, the goddess Frigg, he needs to find her and when they get it on, ka-boom!’ Anders laughed and took a long drink. ‘It’s not going great so far, Axl is kind of a dweeb, nice kid, but not exactly a lady killer, even with my best efforts he struggles to get laid and I can talk anyone into bed.’
‘So is that what you use your superpowers for? Talking women into bed?’
‘I do other things too.’
‘Such as?’
‘Run a PR agency.’
‘And you never feel guilty?’
‘About what?’
‘Talking people into sleeping with you. Isn’t it kind of, umm, well, creepy?’ Mitchell raised his eyebrows, stared at Anders searchingly. Anders sucked in a breath, he didn’t want Mitchell to think badly of him.
‘Look, I can’t make anyone do anything they don’t want to do deep down. Anyway, don’t make out you’ve never done anything morally dubious.’
Mitchell looked at the table and said nothing. Anders took another drink and wondered why he found the man so attractive, he was a mess. But a powerful mess, Anders had felt it the minute he’d walked in with Dawn, it had hit him before he’d even looked at Mitchell and noticed what a good looking fucker he was.
‘So, do you like being a vampire?’ Anders asked, deciding to change the subject, and find out more about the object of his desires.
‘Like it?’ Mitchell looked at him as if he was stupid. ‘How could I like it? I fucking hate it. It’s a curse, a disease.’
‘Whoa, sorry,’ Anders held his hands up. He hadn’t expected that. ‘I thought you might have some cool powers or something.’
‘Cool powers?’
‘Like flying?’
Mitchell looked at him with utter incredulity, Anders could feel his chances of sex slipping away. But then Mitchell laughed, for ages and ages, as if he was mad. Anders laughed with him at first, then stopped and waited for Mitchell to stop laughing, which he eventually did.
‘Wow, I didn’t know I was so funny,’ Anders said drily.
‘Sorry,’ Mitchell snorted, taking a large gulp of wine. ‘I just… can’t fly,’ he hiccoughed a bit, trying not to laugh again with wine in his mouth.
‘So, you don’t have any cool powers. Sounds like being Ty.’
‘Does Ty kill people?’
‘He nearly killed Dawn once. She doesn’t know by the way, mortals can’t know.’
‘He’s lucky. I have killed people. That’s why I hate being a vampire.’ Mitchell paused and drained his glass. ‘I’m immortal, I don’t age, all my friends and family are dead and I have one friend left, I have a shit job, I crave blood all day, every day. If I sate my hunger I will probably kill someone. I see their faces every time I close my eyes, it never stops. I can’t have children, I can’t have lovers, I can’t die.’
Anders didn’t know what to say, so he refilled Mitchell’s glass. It sounded shit, for a god of words he was pretty lost for them right now.
‘Then why don’t you kill yourself? There must be a way. You want to live, or you wouldn’t be sitting here with me now.’ He looked at Mitchell intently, the power he gave off was making Anders skin tingle, it was the same when he first met Colin and his mother, he knew he was in the presence of some serious supernatural shit. Anders was willing to bet that he was no ordinary vampire. Mitchell just shrugged at him. Anders toyed with the stem of his glass. ‘I think you’ve done special things, John Mitchell. You walk around dressed like a tramp, but you’re someone. I could tell the moment I met you. You’re running from something , I should know, I’m doing the same. So, John, who were you?’
‘Nobody actually calls me John,’ Mitchell said with annoyance.
‘What do they call you?’
‘Mitchell.’
‘But your name’s John.’
‘Nobody’s called me that since I joined the army.’
‘I’m not the fucking army and Mitchell sounds like an Australian, I fucking hate Australians.’
Mitchell laughed. ‘I sound Australian? Christ, I’ve never heard that before. Ah, call me what you like,’ he said still laughing. Anders smiled, he liked making Mitchell laugh.
‘So, who were you, John?’
Mitchell put his drink down and reached over the table and took Anders’s hand. Anders tensed at the unexpected contact, but let Mitchell’s fingers gently cover and caress his own. ‘I am a legend. I am the killer of kings. I’m a plague and a monster. I made a chapter of vampires renounce blood because I believed we could be human. And when humanity betrayed me I tore my way through them until I lost the thing I loved most in this world. I went to purgatory to bring her back. I am John Mitchell, and every vampire in this city knows my name.’
Anders believed this more than anything else he’d said. It frightened him a little, it turned him on more. He stroked Mitchell’s finger with his thumb, letting the pad run over the top of one of his rings. Anders could feel a knot forming in his stomach, this man was dangerous, but he was attracted to him all the more for it, he couldn’t get up and leave now even if he wanted to. He was also growing hard at Mitchell’s touch.
‘Where is she now? The woman you loved?’
‘She’s with people who deserve her company. I don’t. She found out about something I did and she can’t live with me.’ Mitchell lowered his eyes. ‘She can’t be around me, even though I know she comes and watches me sleep sometimes, she can’t be with me anymore,’ his voice was breaking. ‘Because of what I did.’
‘What do you mean, she watches you sleep?’ That sounded creepy as hell, he didn’t want some psycho ex stalking him if he shagged Mitchell.
‘She’s a ghost,’ Mitchell said softly. Anders opened his mouth but no words came out for once. Jesus, there were ghosts too. He found himself wondering if Helen would come back and stalk him.
‘Ghosts? Fucking hell.’
‘You didn’t know about ghosts?’
‘No!’
‘There’s one over there, see?’ Mitchell indicated a middle aged man on his own with a newspaper and pint by the window.
‘He’s a ghost?’
‘Notice how we’re the only ones who can see him?’ Mitchell nodded in acknowledgement at the man they were looking at, who spilt some of the drink he wasn’t drinking in astonishment at the recognition. Mitchell smiled, at this and the dumbstruck look on Anders’s face.
‘You said you can’t have lovers, is that why? Your ex ghostie girlfriend stalks you at night?’
Mitchell rolled his eyes. ‘No, I think she’s stopped coming anyway, she hasn’t been for about three months. She didn’t know I could feel her there, I thought I was dreaming at first, but she was there. I was sure when she started folding my clothes like she used to. One night I called out to her, she vanished and I haven’t seen her since. As for the other, I can’t have lovers because I can’t be trusted. It was how I... a way to get blood.’
Anders nodded, he understood now, Mitchell killed his lovers. The thought made him shiver.
‘But you said you didn’t want my blood?’ Anders said slowly, looking for a way to rescue this situation, which was becoming more unpromising in the shagging stakes since the revelation Mitchell had a ghost ex who stalked him at night and a tendency to leave his lovers as corpses.
‘I don’t.’ Mitchell looked up at him meaningfully.
‘Good, because I’d hate for something to spoil my plans for you. And just to check, if we do, you know, your ex isn’t going to float in and start throwing things at me?’
‘No,’ Mitchell assured him. ‘Though maybe I should give her a call, she might like to watch. Two guys together was one of her fantasies, she made a list, she was into lists.’ Mitchell smiled sadly.
‘You can call a ghost? On the phone?’ Anders had thought this day couldn’t get any stranger.
‘Well she’s at the house. Don’t worry, I promised I’d never contact them again.’
Anders knew he had to change the subject, Mitchell looked unbearably sad, his eyebrows creased as he brooded on whatever had happened to make him such an outcast with people he clearly loved.
‘Well, just to reassure you I have no ex’s who will supernaturally stalk me while I’m having sex. Though I do have a PA who thoughtfully calls me at 8am after she knows I’ve been out to remind me what time I need to be in and is a dab hand at taking awkward phone calls from the clingy ones.’
‘Dawn?’
‘Yeah, she’s an angel.’
‘But Ty’s girlfriend?’ Mitchell raised an eyebrow. Anders knew what he was thinking, everyone wondered.
‘Look, never been there, never would. Dawn’s like family, she’s crew. You don’t screw the crew.’
‘And she knows what you’re like.’
‘What I’m like?’
‘You sleep around? Use your godly powers to talk gullible girls, and boys, into bed. She knows about the boys?’
‘Possibly. They tend to get the whole good old-fashioned, no strings root thing, women are the clingy ones.’
Mitchell laughed. ‘Have you ever had a proper relationship?’
Anders shrugged. ‘Yes, and it was a fucking disaster.’
‘How so?’
Anders took a deep breath. ‘She was shot by a religious nut job on my kitchen floor, then reincarnated as my brother’s girlfriend, which meant I was driven by powers beyond my control to screw my brother’s drippy, whiny girlfriend, which is practically date rape!’
‘Oh the irony,’ Mitchell said shaking his head.
‘What? Oh don’t you start being holier than thou, I told you, I can’t and don’t force anyone to do anything they don’t want to do. Look, maybe there’s been times when I’ve gone too far,’ Anders conceded, deciding admitting as much to Mitchell was just about safe seeing as the guy could hardly take the moral high ground after admitting killing people. He thought of Val, and the others and felt a stab of disgust with himself. He knew he could get sex without his powers, it was just harder work, he was lazy and it felt less sleazy than paying. Now he wondered.
‘Anyway, that’s why you left New Zealand? To put a few thousand miles between you and your brother?’
‘Yeah,’ Anders conceded.
‘Who was she?’
‘Who?’
‘The woman!’ Mitchell rolled his eyes. ‘The woman you were in love with.’
‘Love’s a little strong. Lust beyond my mortal control more like it. Helen was Idunn, the beloved of Bragi, Helen is her human form. Anyway, I met Helen, we screwed like you wouldn’t believe, she got all clingy and psycho goddess stalky, then got shot. Now Idunn is also the constant goddess, we need her for her apples of life or some such shit, so she was immediately reincarnated into Gaia, who turned twenty one at the exact time she was shot. Gaia who also happened to be Axl’s drippy girlfriend suddenly became the person I had to shag more than anything in the world. I didn’t even fancy her.’
‘Wow,’ Mitchell said, letting out a low whistle. ‘That’s enough to put anyone off, I’ll give you that. And do you still want this woman?’
Anders squirmed, how did he explain that he’d even tried to stop wanking at one point as he couldn’t bear to think of her, those intrusive images and thoughts.
‘She’s in America, travelling. I think about her, but only because she’s Idunn. I preferred Helen. It’s her I miss, not Gaia. I wish I could remember her as much as I remember Gaia.’
Mitchell nodded and Anders drained his glass, embarrassed by his honesty. He grinned at Mitchell.
‘Well, that was a bit fucking Oprah. Now, more importantly: top or bottom, do you have a preference?’
Anders smirked as Mitchell spluttered on his drink. ‘As in,’ Mitchell looked around to check nobody was standing behind him. ‘As in sex?’ Anders nodded, a grin on his face enjoying Mitchell’s embarrassment. ‘You’re assuming it’s relevant to you.’
‘John, if it wasn’t you wouldn’t be sitting there. I enjoy both by the way. Aw, did I embarrass the big bad vampire?’
‘You’re very sure of yourself. I still haven’t seen this power of yours in action. For all I know it’s complete bullshit.’
‘Okay, what do you want me to do?’ Anders said, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair, looking at Mitchell, challenging him.
‘I don’t know, umm, get us a free drink.’
‘I don’t abuse my powers to rip off pubs.’
‘Because you can’t?’
‘Because it’s immoral.’
Mitchell scoffed. ‘But using it to get women into bed is sooo moral.’
‘Alright, just to prove to you I can, but we’ll leave a big tip. Come on,’ Anders nodded towards the bar. There was a small counter in their section, round the corner from the main bar, which pleased Anders. He didn’t really want to draw attention to what he was about to do.
‘Hey,’ he smiled when the barman sauntered over to them. Mitchell was at his side, leaning on the bar, looking at Anders in anticipation. ‘I’ll have a glass of champagne, we’re celebrating,’ he added. ‘John, what are you having?’
‘What are we celebrating?’ Mitchell asked, an eyebrow raised.
‘My success.’
‘In that case I’ll have champagne too.’
‘Make that a bottle actually,’ Anders said. ‘Two glasses please.’ He then fixed his gaze on the barman, a hard faced man in his thirties with tattoos creeping out his collar and who looked distinctly unimpressed with Anders. Anders cleared his throat and let Bragi come, he could feel the god within him now, when he spoke again his voice was deeper, melodic and he felt as if he were looking down at the scene, pulling the strings of a puppet. ‘If you could bring it to our table over there, when you set the glasses down can you address my friend here as ‘pumpkin’, it makes him happy. And you’d really like to put this bottle on the house for us. We’ll just be at our table.’
The man nodded and said, ‘this one’s on the house.’
‘Well, thank you.’ Anders said in mock surprise, grinning at Mitchell. ‘Must be my lucky day.’
He walked back to their table and smirked as Mitchell sat down, followed by the barman. ‘There you go, pumpkin,’ the barman said in his gruff voice to Mitchell, setting the glasses down. Anders sniggered, trying and failing to hide his amusement. Mitchell looked slightly gormless again and watched the barman’s back as he walked away, before turning to Anders, no longer able to hide his smile.
‘Pumpkin?’
Anders burst out laughing. ‘Good, wasn’t it?’
‘You’re such a prick.’
‘You’d like to see my prick though.’
‘I could live without it.’
Anders caught Mitchell’s eye as he poured his drink. ‘But why live without something you so desperately want when you don’t have to?’
‘I’m not desperate.’
‘I’ll rephrase then, why live without something you were rock hard for in my office before?’
‘Um, the person on the end of it?’
‘You’re acting like you’re not impressed, but you so are.’
‘It’s impressive. But are you, Anders Johnson? Or are you all talk?’
Mitchell had now fixed Anders with a hungry, intense gaze, his eyebrows creased together. Anders felt like prey, he also felt himself getting hard. He raised his glass.
‘To us, and to our mutual discovery of each other.’
Mitchell raised his glass. ‘Cheers.’ Anders was a little surprised that Mitchell finished his drink in a few mouthfuls. He pulled on his coat and stood up.
‘What are you doing?’ Anders asked, his heart sinking.
‘Do you live near here? Because I live miles away and I really don’t want to wait that long.’
‘I live really close. Wait for what?’
Mitchell leaned in close. ‘In answer to your earlier question,’ he whispered, his face very close to Anders’s, lips barely an inch away. ‘I like to experiment, but tonight…’ he leaned in further, to whisper right in Anders’s ear, so close Mitchell’s lips tickled his ear lobe as his spoke. ‘I want to suck your cock like you wouldn’t believe, then you can do whatever you like to me.’
With that Mitchell planted a soft kiss on Anders’s lips before walking out of the pub, leaving Anders to hurriedly follow him, full of want and embarrassingly hardening. He hadn’t thought it possible that he would want someone so much ever again, not after her, after Idunn. But tonight he was all want and it was stronger than anything he’d felt in a long time, and all the better as it was real, not the result of some preordained destiny he couldn’t fight no matter how much be wanted to. No, tonight he was full of real want, for one John Mitchell.