Chapter 10

When Alice got home from work, she found the flat in a dire state once again. Her sister sat on the couch in a sea of crisp packets and cigarette smoke, drinking wine from a teacup with her friend Jackson. 

“Hi, Alice.” Jackson smiled before looking around with a guilty frown. “We’ll tidy up in a sec, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Alice said. She liked Jackson. Why couldn’t her dim-witted little sister realise this gorgeous young man was perfect for her?

“He’s got two years!” Freya cried, turning to face Alice. Her tone and facial expression both suggested she expected Alice to share in her outrage. 

“Must have been some messed up pictures, then,” Alice said. She’d looked up the list of child porn offences and the sentences attached. Only the most abhorrent of images would result in a two-year stretch.

“Pictures.” Freya tutted. “It’s not like he hurt anyone just by looking.”

“A child still had to be tortured in order for sickos to look at it,” Jackson pointed out. 

This was why Alice loved him. He spoke his mind, telling the truth even if it wasn’t what people wanted to hear. Jackson was good for Freya. Too good, some might say.

Freya, with no further argument to offer, downed her wine and asked Jackson if he wanted to hang out in her room. Once again, Alice was left alone to deal with all the cleaning as well as go through the bills that sat unopened on the table. 

“Damn, this is late,” she winced, eyeing the water bill. The electricity bill was also due, as well as the council tax and rent. The banking app deftly informed her the twenty-seven pounds in her account wasn’t going to cover it.

“Twenty-seven quid to last four weeks,” she mumbled. There was no point asking Freya, who had an income of roughly zero. 

‘I’m supposed to be the responsible one,’ Alice thought, thinking up ways to make money. The only reasonable option was to sell some of the jewellery her nanna had left her, though the idea saddened her greatly. Keeping her mother from selling the jewels for drug money had been a fierce and constant battle. Having to sell those memories for the privilege of having access to water and heat seemed so unfair.

‘The joys of late-stage capitalism,’ she thought sourly.

Once she’d finished all the cleaning, she decided to skip lunch, grab an oat bar and check her messages. Since joining the dating site her friends recommended, she’d received five generic ‘hello’ messages, an essay about how amazing she looked, culminating in a question about her willingness to take it ‘up the bum’, and one rather pathetic ‘dick pic.’

She was on the verge of giving up on having a love life. Still, there was no harm in looking. One new message from a guy called Andrew Leeke. With dark hair covering his eyes, a plethora of tattoos and tight black clothing he looked like an older version of Damien.

Damien.

He was in her thoughts almost constantly.

She clicked away from Andrew’s profile and sighed, closing down the dating site without responding to his message. Instead of working on her love life, she decided to research supernatural powers instead. But where to start?

Scrolling through webpage after webpage of rubbish, she decided it was hopeless.

###

By the time Monday morning arrived, Alice was brimming with questions. She literally couldn’t wait to see Damien. 

‘I’ll explode,’ she thought, tapping her foot against the floor in a frantic rhythm. The three cups of coffee hadn’t helped the situation, Alice realised, as she began to click her fingers in time to her tapping foot.

When he knocked and entered a shiver ran down her arms, forcing an end to the clicking. 

“Were you listening to music?” Damien frowned.

“No.” Alice tapped the cover of her notebook. “Too much coffee.”

“Oh,” Damien said. “Share?”

‘What can it hurt?’ Alice thought, taking out her thermos and pouring him a cup. 

“Hope you like it black,” she said.

“Like my soul.” He grinned wickedly. “I like my coffee like I like my women; hot, available and freshly ground.”

“I saw you with your girlfriend. She not who I would have pictured you with,” Alice said.

“She told me she’d rather eat shit than go out with me, so I made her fall in love with me to prove a point.” Damien shrugged. “She’s not my type either.”

“Oh,” Alice said, unsure how to respond. On one hand, the girl sounded like a total bitch, but on the other, it was wrong to force someone into loving you.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “When I’ve ground her down to a shell of her former, awful self, I’ll let her off the hook. Maybe.”

“So… how long have you been able to do this?” Alice asked, getting back on track with her planned questions. 

Damien shrugged. “At first I thought everyone could do it. Like walking or breathing. Then I started to realise that wasn’t the case as I got older.”

“How many people know?” Alice asked.

“I don’t keep it a secret. Though people only believe me if I prove it,” he said. 

Damien sipped at the coffee, looking out the window.

“You can’t really blame them. It is fairly… unusual,” Alice said.

Damien said nothing, continuing to drink the coffee until the cup was empty.

“I’m sorry for the generic questions,” Alice said. “I mean, you must hear them all the time.”

Damien shook his head. “On the contrary. You are literally the first one who hasn’t fallen at my feet and begged me for a lottery win. It makes me sad that people are so obsessed with wealth, as though they can’t see past the lie that having things equals happiness.”

The thought to ask him for money had occurred. Now she was glad she decided it was an immoral thing to do.

“I get that. I think you’d have to be a psychopath to horde billions while people are starving. Still, it would be nice to be able to pay the lekky bill,” Alice said.

“You’re having money problems?” Damien asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh!” Alice cried, shaking her head. “I wasn’t, I mean, I would never. I would never ask you for the lottery numbers. Sorry.”

She could feel him sizing her up as she sat, head in her hands.

‘I’m shameful.’

“How much do you need?” he asked finally.

“Oh, no, really, I wasn’t—”

“How much?” he persisted.

“Only a grand or so,” she blurted. “I have twenty quid to my name; all my bills are due, and I don’t get paid until the end of the month.”

“Okay.” Damien smiled sweetly. “I can help.”

“Oh, no, Damien, I can’t let you do that,” Alice said, feeling like the worst person alive.

“You didn’t. It’s not like you even asked for the money,” Damien said.

“I hinted.” Alice looked down. “That’s worse.”

“Oh, TRUST me, it’s not,” Damien said. “Have you ever heard someone you love begging you for money?”

“Well, my mother was a drug addict, so…”

“Was? Did she get better?” Damien asked.

“She died last year,” Alice said, voice shaking.

‘I thought I could talk about it without tearing up,’ Alice thought. ‘Apparently I was wrong.’

“Sorry,” Damien said.

Alice looked up and smiled, taking his hand, and squeezing because it was easier than words. Her throat had a nasty habit of closing when tears built behind her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Damien,” Alice let out a stifled laugh and wiped at her eyes and nose. “This meeting is supposed to be about you. All I’ve done is satisfy my curiosity and offload my problems. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a counsellor.”

“I’m a special case,” Damien assured her. He patted her hand while giving her the world’s most pitying smile. “You’ll do better with those other delinquents, I’m sure.”

“Do you know where your power comes from?” Alice blurted. She’d thought about nothing else all weekend.

“From me, I’m guessing.” Damien shrugged. 

She’d been hoping for a more satisfactory explanation. Something along the lines of, ‘I was bitten by a spider,’ or, ‘I fell into a vat of toxic waste.’

“You really have no idea what makes you special?” Alice asked.

“My sparkling wit and charming personality?” he replied.

Alice sighed. It wasn’t the boy’s job to make her feel better. What did she expect him to say?

She leaned over the desk, staring at him for a moment, trying to see if her female intuition or instinct would give her any clues. As he stared back, a faint smile playing on his lips, she realised it didn’t feel the tiniest bit awkward.

“I feel so at home with you,” Alice said. “Is that weird?”

“Maybe you’re falling in love with me,” Damien teased.

Alice let out a startled laugh.

“Oh, don’t say that, please… you’ll get me fired.”