The streets of Hell's Kitchen are oily dark, lit only by flashes of neon signs and traffic lights. A man in a fine suit, too clean for his surroundings, leaves a building with swift steps. He is irritated, barking into the phone pressed to his ear. Behind him, tracking his movements, the ghost of footsteps and a rustle of feathers.
The man's car is parked a block down the street, in a blind spot for all nearby security cameras. There can be no record of his presence here. He snarls an order and hangs up the phone, abruptly biting off the apologies still echoing through the speaker. He checks the clock, a sneer painted across his face; he is not used to being inconvenienced.
His expensive shoes make a hollow sound against the pavement as he walks, turning a corner onto an empty stretch of road. Blocks away, people stroll in the bright glow of street lamps, and drink at crowded pubs. Here, though, only warehouses and abandoned businesses line the way. The low watt bulbs that flicker above a few locked doors should be serving to break up the darkness, but somehow only deepen the shadows beyond them. A denser, greedier darkness hangs in the gaps between buildings, and creeps along the ground behind him.
He hastens his steps, glancing once over his shoulder. He thinks he's being paranoid, but his body is trying to tell him something. The prickle along the top of his spine, the tightness in his chest, the urge to track the corner of his vision. He is being watched.
Behind him there's nothing but the haze of fog, low to the ground and drifting up the street in lazy tendrils. He feels it though; the trap closing around him. He's running now, his car only a few yards away, breaths coming in the quick gasps of panic. He reaches the shiny black Mercedes, so out of place on this dingy little street, momentum slamming him into the door as he fumbles for his keys.
His hands are shaking, but the keys don't clatter to the asphalt. He presses the button, relief rushing over him as he hears the click of unlocking doors. He throws himself into the vehicle, locking the doors behind him and tightening his hands around the steering wheel. From the safety of the car he's already red-faced at his cowardice, knowing he saw nothing behind him when he turned. His irritation flares again, the arrogant sneer returning to his lips as he opens his phone to send a text.
The cell phone bathes the car's interior in blueish light, starkly illuminating the frown lines carved into his brow. He types for a moment, his heart rate slowing back to normal as his fear slips further into anger. He's about to lock the phone and start the car, looking forward to a strong drink at the end of a long day, when a sound turns his blood to ice.
A breathy chuckle, so soft he can barely hear it, emanates from the darkness directly behind him. Someone is in the back seat. His breath chokes off in his throat, blood roaring in his ears, as he slowly lifts his eyes to the rear view mirror. The dim light of the phone just touches the space behind him, casting angular shadows over the figure there.
He makes a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a gurgle, trying to make sense of it. Wings enfold the entirety of the back seat, huge and black and feathered; bent to accommodate the small space, feathers reflecting blue and green in the mechanical light. They're attached to something slender and human looking, a pale faced girl with fine features and china blue eyes, like a doll. She smiles, the living devil in the curve of her mouth, as the phone screen times out, plunging them into darkness.
A scream slices through the night, biting off in a choke. Blood pools into leather seats, already cooling in the brisk night air.
2 weeks later
Bodies pressed in against Astrid, hot and crowded, the bass from the music rumbling through the floor. She could feel it in her bones as she tilted her head up, rolling out her neck and swaying to the bright dance beats. Alcohol buzzed in her veins, warm and tingly. The combination was almost enough to soothe the pain that always lingered beneath her skin, for a while.
The exhaustion wasn't gone, but it was a distant thing. The music pulsed over it, spreading a lazy smile across her face. Her dark, wavy hair fell to her chin. Curtain bangs framed a heart shaped face with wide, round eyes; which were milky blue, like clouded ice. Her bone structure was delicate, like something sculpted, and her mouth was devious.
She had a slender frame, and wore a little black dress with loose straps that criss-crossed over an open back. The pale, bony column of her spine was on display, the occasional chill of a breeze making her feel more naked than she was. She hadn't been sure about the dress when she first tried it on, revealing as it was, but now had to admit it seemed made for her.
It clung to her like a second skin at her chest, accentuating the braless swell of her small breasts, while still swishing freely around her thighs as she danced. The neckline was square, landing just below her clavicle. The fine chain of a necklace wound around her neck, a single blue stone sparkling against the hollow of her throat. She looked like a vision. She'd have to thank Faith, wherever she was.
Astrid made a cursory scan of the room for her friend, but saw nothing beyond the press of bodies, strangers crowding into every space. Mist hung thick in the club, catching and diffusing the colored lights, as though a fog machine was running nearby. It hovered close where she passed through, wiggling between people on her way to the bar, and seemed to gather in the air around her.
The bar was lit with green neon, bathing the bartenders in an eerie glow. She wedged herself against it, nearly every inch of space already taken up by people. Getting a drink at this point on a Friday night would be a work of luck and finesse.
She lingered with her eyes downcast, waiting for the nearest bartender to shift in her direction. The boy behind the bar looked barely twenty-one; lanky and bored, with sandy blond hair and long limbs. He was focused on his hands, mixing a drink, and pointedly not making eye contact with the dozens of people waving for his attention.
Their energy was frenetic, and she made hers calm in comparison. Took a slow breath, dropped her shoulders, quieted her fidgety fingers. It was the subtlest way of making herself stand out against the crowd, and she felt people's attention drifting to her, curious. She waited a beat longer before flicking her eyes up to the bartender's face.
He was looking back, startled. She smiled, devilish, and slid her bills across the counter to him. His lips stretched into an easy smirk that probably had the college girls quaking at the knees. He closed his fingers around the money, an eyebrow quirking up as he leaned forward.
"Well," he said, pointedly looking her up and down. "Must be my lucky night. What can I get you?"
"Manhattan," she smiled at him, sweet as sugar. "Extra cherry?"
He flashed her a wink as he reached for the whiskey, and she leaned further into the bar, playing off her fatigue as flirtation. She had no interest in sleeping with him, but she was glad not to have to wait for her drink. He slid a glass to her, but didn't take his hand away when she reached for it.
"I think you should give me your number." He let his eyes travel down her body again, shamelessly. "You look like you're up to no good."
She suppressed a roll of her eyes, snaking the drink out from his grip.
"You're a little young for me."
He looked ready to argue, but a female voice called out from the far end of the bar.
"Hey Jason, get a move on. I need some help over here." There was a distinctly managerial bite to the tone.
"Oh shit," anxiety flashed over the boy's face as he spun away from Astrid. "Yeah, coming Steph."
She took a sip of her drink, letting the sweetness dance across her tongue. At the same time, a familiar hand wound around her middle, a chin coming to rest on her shoulder.
"He is so in love with you." Giggled Faith. "You're such a manipulative bitch."
"Me, manipulative?" Astrid scoffed, stringing her free arm around her friend and pulling her close. "I'm not the one tricking innocent bartenders with my powers."
"And how innocent was he, really?" Faith arched a skeptical eyebrow, pulling a laugh from Astrid.
"Fair point. Thanks for saving me, by the way." She tipped back the rest of her Manhattan, catching the cherry between her teeth. She flashed a grin before biting down on it, savoring the rush of flavor.
"Get a move on, Jason." Faith shot back. Her tone was mocking, but her voice a perfect copy of the manager, Steph.
Astrid laughed again, setting her glass back down with a dull clink. Even after all these years, Faith's power was still a little shocking every time. She was gorgeous, too. Busty and blonde, with generous lips and a bubbly smile. Her eyes were warm brown and catlike, tilting up at the corners.
"Hey listen," Astrid said, tucking a few dollars into the tip jar. "I'm exhausted. I'm gonna go home, I think. You coming?"
"Aw, boo." Faith pouted. "You doing okay?"
"Pushed myself a bit far, I think." She said, honestly. "I'll be fine. Just gonna head home."
Faith's brow creased in concern, but Astrid shook her head, smiling brightly and giving a wave as she backed away. She was still smiling as she trailed through the crowd, weaving her way towards the exit. Outside, a cold drizzle was picking up. It felt nice against her skin after the stuffy humidity of the club.
The pulse of the bass faded to a dull vibration at her back as she stepped out into the street, noting that people were still filing in the front entrance. It was just after midnight on a Friday, and this was one of the most popular spots in the area. The cursive neon sign above the door reflected on the damp street below, red letters spelling out the name Rabbits.
Faith had been the one to drag her out that night; even gifting her a dress so she had no excuse to ditch. Honestly, it'd been more fun than she was expecting. Leaving early was just one of the many drawbacks of Astrid's condition. Even now, with the alcohol still rushing in her blood, the pain was enough to make her hiss her breath out through her teeth. Her skeleton groaned and shifted as she walked; her body seemingly unsatisfied with the shape of her bones.
She heaved a sigh, tightening the strap of her purse as she strolled out into the alley; mist hanging heavy in the air around her. It trailed in her wake, the hazy tendrils curling in a way that made them look almost alive. The fog was so thick around her ankles that her shoes seemed to disappear entirely, but for their delicate clicking against the sidewalk.
She was lost in thought, drifting down the street. She may have looked lost, or more drunk thank she was, the way she ambled along with no sense of haste. She rolled her neck out, exhaling a controlled breath as a spike of pain shot from between her shoulders, down her left arm. The sharpness subsided quickly, leaving an ache that radiated along the joints.
She fished through her bag for a moment, emerging with a fresh joint and lighter. Dodging raindrops, she nestled the filter between her teeth and sparked the end, sucking in sharply to fill her lungs. The burn of the paper was always a bit harsh on the first hit, and she coughed into her elbow before raising it to her lips for another drag. The smoke danced with the gentle drizzle of rain as it billowed through the halos of orange streetlights.
It was only a few blocks further, and then she'd be tucked away for the night. She wanted to curl up in bed and ease the ever-present tug of gravity against her muscles. The fog around her twisted in discomfort as her heels click-click-clicked on the ground. There was an echo to the sound, though, that didn't belong. A distant, shuffling impression of heavier footsteps.
Astrid tested her stride, slowing casually and listening. The footsteps behind her slowed, too. She quickened a bit, and her echo followed suit. She was being followed. A smirk ghosted across her face, her eyes flashing with mischief. Something interesting was about to happen.