Get Liminality
- vampiric fae (Kin)
- forbidden romance
- revolutions
- rebel prince
- two men who refuse to accept the fate they've been handed
Liminality
Chapter 1
Elliot Brand drew in a breath. The sweet smoke burned the back of his throat, but he held it in his lungs for as long as he could before blowing the cloud out of his mouth. This close to the lake edge after sunset, he wasn’t taking any chances. The cigarette crackled in his fingers, smoke coiling upwards. He took another drag, the paper and marshmallow leaf burning fast and almost singeing his fingers before he dropped the butt on the gritty shore. He exhaled again. Hopefully there’d be enough poison in his blood that the Kin wouldn’t see him as supper.
He squinted into the dusk waiting for the mist to gather and the castle to appear like a ghost intent on consuming the living, but the surface of the lake remained stubbornly empty. It was safer to be well away from the lake before the castle appeared. One never knew when the Kin would ride out to hunt.
The inky water lapped at the shore, hiding its secrets. It was said that at night, there were monsters in the lake that ate boats. Maybe the monsters were all that stopped the devoured from swimming to the castle.
He ground his heel on the butt of his cigarette and walked along the shore, past the bonfires that marked the camps of the devoured. He scanned the thin faces, searching for his brother’s the same way he had every night for the past month.
The devoured played music and danced all night, hoping to lure the Kin into appearing and taking them once again.
Fools.
They should have never gotten themselves taken in the first place.
But not everyone danced in search of ecstasy. Some lay on the ground, gaunt and shivering. Starving because all they could think of was Kin blood, not the food that would sustain them. They forgot the troubles of the world and danced until they died.
They weren’t living…but did they realize they were suffering?
A woman reached out to him, begging with mumbled words and split, dry lips. He stepped back.
Dayne wasn’t here.
Relief and worry intertwined. If his brother wasn’t here, he must be there. His gaze skittered toward the mist eddying over the lake. People didn’t vanish, no matter what the marshal said as he’d shrugged and tried to get Elliot out the door as fast as possible. People from the dark part of the city didn’t go in asking for help, they were usually the ones being arrested. Dayne hadn’t skipped town to avoid arrest. Nah, it was far more likely he’d been arrested on some minor charge and offered to the Kin.
His stomach turned, refusing to think of what the Kin were doing to his younger brother. Born only eighteen months apart, it had been Elliot’s job to look after his brother. He’d well and truly fucked up this time. At least his parents weren’t alive to see it.
A vibration filled the air, a rumble in his lungs that made it hard to breathe. The devoured whooped with joy and turned to the lake. Elliot spun. Where there had been only empty sky over water was now a shadowy building that pierced the sky with its turrets.
He fumbled in his woolen coat for his cigarettes. Only two left. He couldn’t afford more until Fourteenday when he got paid. That would mean three nights without protection while he searched the beach for Dayne. He couldn’t skip a night.
The vibration became a rumble as the bone beasts held together by magic and ridden by the Kin spilled out of the castle and onto the lake.
He fumbled with the cigarette, dropped it, and picked it up. His hands shook as he struck flint to get a spark. The leaf and paper lit. The lake rippled, spilling silver starlight over the inkiness. Shadows flew across the surface. Elliot hunkered down near the boulders that had once been part of a wall supposed to keep the Kin out; it had failed long ago. He sucked in the smoke, hoping it would be enough to keep him safe.
The rumble grew louder, like the growling of wild animals. From his hiding place, he watched as the shadows took shape. Moonlight caught on the white bones of the beasts, and the dark leather coats of the Kin flapped. They were a glorious flock of beautiful monsters with bright hair streaming behind them.
Like any idiot he was transfixed, mesmerized by the pretty riders.
The swarm raced past, ignoring the devoured who offered their bodies and blood so they could taste the magic in the Kin blood—enough magic to drive a man mad. The Kin rode toward the city. If they went up the hill, it was to trade with the rich; if they turned toward the dark, it was to hunt.
Elliot sighed out smoke, unable to hold his breath any longer, and the last rider’s head turned. Pink eyes locked with his for a moment, and then they were gone, their brown coat and braided pink hair streaming behind.
He stayed hidden, expecting the rider to turn back and snatch him off the ground. He finished his cigarette with shaking hands. He was alive. It was several more breaths before he was able to convince himself to get up.
The devoured wailed, crying like it was the end of the world. The Kin didn’t want withered bodies, the ones that had already been sucked dry and tossed aside like a bone that had nothing left to offer even the thinnest soup. Elliot shuddered. It would be kinder if Dayne were dead.
Elliot turned toward the city and trudged home. The red lights of the Lit City up the hill were too far away to offer any kind of useful light, but he had the stars and walked this road often enough over the last month that—
Something lay by the road. Discarded clothes? Elliot wasn’t above picking through to see what would fit. Turning on the lights up the hill each night was a job that barely paid the rent and fed him.
He squatted down, but it wasn’t a pile of clothes. A man. Cautiously, he turned the body over. Not Dayne. Elliot sagged. The man was alive, if this could be called living. His eyes were wide and lit with the fever of a bite addict. His neck was a bruised mess, and his arms would be the same.
What favor had this man needed from the Kin?
Or had he offered himself to pay for some crime?
Or had he simply been snatched off the street?
Elliot glanced up the track. He didn’t want to be out while the Kin were still riding. They’d dumped this man here, and Elliot should leave him. It wasn’t his business. Never get involved in Kin business.
But he was already involved. The Kin had no right to take people. He and Dayne should’ve left. They’d talked about saving up and going inland where there were no Kin—he’d heard the stories. But he’d also heard the marshals didn’t let folk leave, and that the Kin were everywhere like fleas on a dog.
The truth could be anything, but they’d figured the only way to find out was to go.
Elliot put his arm under the man and helped him to his feet. He’d get him to the fires where he’d at least be warm and wouldn’t die overnight.
The man stumbled, barely able to walk. “Did you see it? Oh, it shines. Where is my wine? I want to dance again.” He took a few steps and pulled Elliot into a clumsy twirl. Elliot had no talent for dancing, and no time to learn.
“Come on.” He tugged the man toward the bonfires. He could reminisce with the other devoured until he either wasted away or found something else to live for. Some woke from the craving and carved out a new life. Most didn’t.
They reached the edge of the pebbly beach and the first bonfire. Sparks wafted up into the night sky and heat bathed Elliot’s skin. The gaunt faces of the devoured stared at him as if they knew he didn’t belong. He was too well fed when compared to them. What a joke.
“There you go.” He helped the man sit by the fire. Elliot was almost sure he wouldn’t last the night, he was too wounded, but there was nothing to be done. He sighed and turned away, then stopped. “Hey, did you see a man called Dayne there? Little taller than me, same dark eyes?”
The man stared up at him, eyes wide but unfocussed. “The pets are lucky.”
Elliot squatted down, the hem of his coat in the sand. “My brother, Dayne, he’s missing.”
“Or he doesn’t want to be found.” The man grinned.
They’d sucked his brains out along with his blood.
“Screw you.” He blamed the smoke for the stinging of his eyes as he stamped away. He shoved his hands in his pockets and hurried down the road. He wouldn’t stop to help any more of the devoured. He should know better. All they cared about were the Kin.
And all the Kin cared about were themselves.
He made his way to the room he called home. It was big enough for a family; it had been home to his family. Then his father was arrested and had disappeared. A few years later, when Elliot was fifteen, Mama had started coughing—a side effect of smoking the leaves. Dayne had taken Mama’s place at the factory, processing the marshmallow when she’d gotten too sick. A year later, she’d died. With Dayne missing, Elliot had taken his place as well as doing his own job.
The room was cold and dark, but he didn’t light a candle. No point when it was only him and he knew where everything was. He stripped off his boots and pants in the dark and fell into bed, only remembering at the last moment to wind his clock so he’d wake up before dawn and turn off the lights. ***Fog rolled down the streets, the red of the lights barely breaking through. It was always colder in the morning. Elliot pulled his snood up over his nose so it didn’t freeze and fall off. Today, he was gritty and tired. He wasn’t getting enough sleep. No chance to nap during the day when he was at the processing plant holding Dayne’s job for him. He’d need to try and steal a little leaf today, assuming the foreman wasn’t watching him. He couldn’t afford to lose the job.
But he couldn’t keep going either. He was barely keeping it together. He tripped over a cobble, stumbled, and kept walking. With numb fingers, he shoved the last piece of bread into his mouth. It wasn’t much of a breakfast, but it would do. A couple more nights until he got paid. He was used to being hungry the last day. The whole of the Dark City rumbled, waiting for coin.
He was still chewing the heel of the bread when he reached the workshop. Or what had been the workshop. The walls looked like they were going to fall over, and the roof had a massive hole in it. Elliot stood there blinking like a landed fish.
One of the marshal’s men in an official bright green coat stepped out, looking like he wanted to hang someone. And Elliot happened to be standing there. “Oi, what are you staring at?”
He swallowed the last bit of bread; it caught in his throat like a rock before it went down. “I work here…I’m a lightman.” Where was Fife? “What happened?”
“Someone tried to steal the orbs, and it looks like the Kin took offense to someone taking what’s theirs.” The man stared at him a little harder, his lips curled into a snarl.
The Kin wouldn’t have done anything. The orbs were fragile and temperamental and had to be handled with care. That was the first thing Fife had taught him. The workshop was mostly for fixing the actual lights and storing the orbs so that the old ones could be collected and new ones handed over. Fife and Elliot never did the handover. Elliot didn’t mind, he didn’t want to deal with the Kin or the rich up the hill.
Elliot crossed the road. The acrid scent of damaged Kin orbs filled the air.
The same red pulse and glow that lived in the ribs of the Kin’s beasts and gave them life also lit the city. All of the lights were paid with the blood of those in the Dark City.
Between the Kin and the rich, the poor had very little blood left. The marshals were the vice in charge of getting every drop. If he thought it would get Dayne back, he’d offer to cut his own vein.
“Where’s Fife?” Was he in there, hurt? He was always there first.
“Dunno. I’d like to talk to him, too.” The man stepped aside. “You better get to work. Don’t want to waste the light.”
Elliot stepped into the workshop. His gaze skimmed over the upturned table and the mess on the floor. The shelves had tumbled under the weight of the fallen roof. Elliot peered up. The pink stained sky was visible through the hole that was as big as the table. The thief had taken the fresh orbs—or had tried to take them. The case was open, and all six orbs were missing. The floor was stained blood red and littered with delicate shards of glass.
Blood and Bother.
He forced a breath out and it whistled through the wide gap between his front two teeth. They needed those orbs to fix the broken lights. He couldn’t afford to lose pay.
He closed his eyes. Willing himself to go on instead of crumpling. He’d find Dayne, everything would go back to how it was, and they’d be fine, scraping by together.
He scrabbled around in the mess until he found his tool bag. Most of the time he could fix the light—if it wasn’t an orb problem. Sometimes they had to replace them and bring the old one here. On the undamaged side of the workshop were the glass boxes the orbs were placed in for protection. All of them were waiting to be repaired, their glass broken, or maybe they didn’t lock, or the connections no longer held the orb stable, or they’d been damaged in a brawl. It didn’t matter why the light no longer worked. The result was the same: less pay.
With his bag slung over his shoulder, Elliot stepped out of the workshop. Fife had arrived and was chatting with the marshal. The tension that had been smothering Elliot melted away. Fife was alive, and Elliot wanted to hug the man. Fife probably wouldn’t appreciate the gesture even though he’d been like a father to Elliot.
Fife gave him a nod, but his face was a mask, not his usual smile but something else Elliot didn’t like. It was only when the marshal left Fife grinned. “You’re going to stay and help me clean up, right?”
He should. He would’ve happily stayed before. “I have to get to the plant.”
“You need to think about what you’re doing. I can’t keep picking up your slack. The workshop is full.”
Elliot glared at him. “I’m sorry. I need to keep his job open for when he comes back.”
Fife shook his head. “Elliot, what you’re doing is a kind thing, but—”
“But nothing. Please, a little longer. He’s all I have left.”
“I know…and I took you on as a favor to your mother. May the Kin never touch her.” He crossed his fingers. “But I ain’t getting any younger, and my girls won’t do this. They want nothing to do with Kin and their magic.”
Elliot stared at the ground and his scuffed brown boots. This was a good job, the best someone like him could hope for. The pay was better than the marshmallow leaf processing plant, though not by much. Those that lived in the Dark City never got jobs that paid above the bare essentials, and sometimes not even enough to cover them.
“I’ll give you until the equinox. About three fortnight. If you ain’t found Dayne by then, he’s dead or wishing he was.”Three fortnight. Dayne had already been missing for two. He’d be returned by then if he was in the castle. The hollow eyes of the devoured haunted Elliot’s sleep. He nodded. Three fortnight. He could do both jobs for another forty-two nights and still look for Dayne.
And then what?
His brother would be back, that’s what, and life would go back to how it had been, with Dayne courting the girl across the hallway and Elliot going to the smoke-filled bar where men who liked other men could get a drink and more while killing a few hours before bed. The man he had been seeing frequently had probably moved on in the four weeks Elliot had been absent.
“Fine,” Elliot said, not sure he’d actually stop in three fortnights even though he couldn’t do this forever. What was he supposed to do? Give up?
Fife reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cigarette. “Figured you’d be needing that to get you through to pay day.”
Elliot wanted to reach out and take it. If he was going to the lake, he should be smoking to be safe. But he didn’t want to take from Fife, so he lied. “I’m good. Been rationing my supply better.”
He’d run out the first fortnight Dayne had been missing. He had tried to ration better this time but had failed. A tin of marshmallow leaf wasn’t meant to last a fortnight, but he couldn’t afford a tin every sennight, and he hadn’t realized how much Dayne had been pinching from the processing plant.
“Have it your way. You’re courting danger going down there all the time.” Fife walked into the workshop and put the cigarette on the work bench, then turned around to find his bag. He didn’t seem at all perturbed by the mess.
“Why were you late?” Fife was always at the workshop before him.
“Gracie’s sick.”
The youngest of Fife’s three girls. The cold made it hard for her to breath. She’d been sick for years, struggling every winter, and Fife didn’t have the coin or the nectar to heal her.
“I hope it passes.” Elliot stared at the cigarette, and then at Fife’s back. He needed it. He hesitated, then leaned over and snatched up the cigarette and put it in his pocket. He’d be safe for another night.
Fife grunted. “If you can’t help me clean up, you able to come in on your day off and do some fixin’?”
He was exhausted and the sun was barely risen. A couple more nights, then he’d get paid, and he’d get the day off from the plant. The promise of a day off was all that had kept him stumbling through. But he nodded. “I’ll come in on the fourteenth day.”
No day off.
The laundry would have to wait. So would sleep. ***The landlord was waiting by Elliot’s door when he got home, his fingers smelling like the sweet marshmallow leaf and his feet aching from standing since dawn, then turning off the lights. All he wanted to do was fall onto his bed and sleep until his alarm woke him, early so he could check the beach before getting up to turn off the lights. He didn’t even care about dinner. There was almost nothing left to eat anyway, and he didn’t want to chat.
“Rent’s doubling, kid.”
Elliot halted like he’d hit a wall. “What?”
“I got a waitlist for that family room and since it’s only you.” He shrugged and sipped his tea. “Supply and demand.”
Double. Elliot ran the sums but couldn’t make them work. “You can’t do that.”
“Sure I can, you’re in a family room, and I don’t see a family. Now I was nice in letting you and your brother be called a family, seeing as how you’ve lived there since you were knee high, but I can’t have a single man taking up a room for four or more.”
This had been his home for as long as he could remember. He shook his head. “My brother’s coming back.”
“Kid—”
“I’m not a bloody kid.” He was twenty-two. Half his mother’s age when she’d died.
The landlord’s face hardened. “If you want to stay, it’s double. Otherwise there’s a single man’s room upstairs for half what you’re paying.”
“The attic room where Sydney hanged himself?”
Dead Man’s Room. Sydney was just the most recent. Two other men had killed themselves up there. There was a rumor one had been snatched out of his bed by the Kin. Dead Man’s Room wasn’t home. It wouldn’t be safe.
“It’s a nice room, biggest single room I have. Got a view of the lake and all.”
That didn’t make it a nice room at all, but at least he’d still be in the same building. The cheaper room was tempting. How long would it take to make it a home so the Kin wouldn’t be able to cross the threshold?
No. He wasn’t moving up there. This was his home. This is where Dayne would look for him. “I’ll get you double.”
The landlord waived his tin cup at Elliot. “You aren’t thinking right. You’re like one of the devoured.”
“I’m not.”
“Your brother isn’t coming back.”
“You’ll get your coin.” Elliot unlocked the door and opened it. “That’s all that matters, right?”
Even if he gave everything and ate nothing, he’d still come up short. But there were other ways to make money.
“Just take the single room. If your brother comes back, there’s room for him up there.”
Elliot closed his eyes. “Maybe next week.”
“It might be gone.”
“That room’s been empty since you took the rope down.”
Elliot shut the door. He leaned against it, wanting to feel as solid as the wood. Instead, he was falling apart like dried marshmallow. One breath, and he’d disintegrate.