Moonlight Meetings - Three Erotic Supernatural Stories (The three first stories from Suzy's Adventures) (11 page)

“I’ll help,” Suzy tried to shout back, but her throat was still choked up.

At that point, the dagger-wielding man spun like a whip, struck the umbrella, and sent it flying into an alley. His face was hidden in the shadow of his deep hood, but Suzy could swear she sensed
him grin. The armed man approached, gliding in like a dancer, and Suzy scrambled back until her back was pressed against a wall. The man reached out with one hand, and Suzy shrank back at the sight of his fingernails, long and crooked like those of an old man. As he grasped for her face, Suzy, animated by sheer panic, ducked under his hand and stumbled to the side. The man closed again, and Suzy heard a low growl from inside the hood, a predatory rumble that couldn’t have originated from a man, seven feet tall or not. What she faced wasn’t normal. This was another strangeness, more impossibility sprung out of nowhere. With that knowledge, the terror that gripped her multiplied.

At that instant, the young man landed on the attacker’s back as if dropped from the sky. The attacked reeled back and slashed with his knife over his shoulders, trying to hit the young man’s head. Suzy gasped, thrown from near-death to possible survival. Then fury stepped in, took control, and sent her boot cannoning up into the tall man’s groin. To Suzy’s great relief it appeared the attackers, normal or not, were equipped with the parts needed for her kick to have effect. A deep, muffled cry came from inside the hood and the man fell to his knees, then slumped sideways.

For a few silent seconds, all stood still. The young man and Suzy looked at each other. Suzy was both hot and cold, covered in sweat and soaked with rain. She sucked air into her aching lungs. It was over. The man was safe. Proud of its work, anger stepped back and gave room to fear, who commanded Suzy to run. All in all, that sounded like a very reasonable idea.

She turned, and then froze. Halfway down the street, in the other direction, were three other men, all tall and wearing hoods. They were walking towards her, fast and purposefully. Apparently, she’d left the cafe and stumbled into a never-ending nightmare slasher movie.

Mister yellow umbrella appeared next to her. “They come in packs,” he said hoarsely. “Always do.”

“How’d you know?” Suzy coughed, then said, “I can speak again.”

“It is in their nature.” He shook his head. “But they were quicker than usual. They must be able to sense the mark. I wonder if Lacram knows?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Suzy said. The men had been after a mark? Wasn’t that a currency? Swizz, or German? Or Belgian, like the chocolate. She tried to concentrate, but her thoughts were loose strands of nonsense swimming in her head.

“We should run,” her unlikely saviour said. “And hide.”

Suzy nodded. That sounded like a
very
good idea.

*

A few minutes later, Suzy stood inside the hallway of the block of flats where she lived, a run-down, three-storey affair squeezed in between a parking house and a boarded-up warehouse. The man stood beside her, still breathing hard but, annoyingly, not as hard as she was. A mad dash through the rain had taken them here in hope of outrunning their attackers, and it looked as if they’d succeeded. Suzy leaned out to check but saw only wet concrete and swaying street lamps. No people, no cars. No sign of tall men with nasty knives. No ghosts, no goblins.

From the outside, the block looked like a haunted version of a drug-dealer’s den, but the inside was, if not the opposite, at least not as bad. The landlord was one of the rarest of breeds: One who cared. That meant few and not overly aggressive rats, a whiff of mould rather than a dense stench, and only the occasional broken pipe. The neighbours were all right, saying hello most of the time and rarely complaining when Suzy happened to turn the volume up, which was pretty much the constant setting. Besides, the ex-warehouse below was used as a rehearsal studio, and Suzy’s modest speakers didn’t compare to what those bands could muster. And, musicians being how they are, there were people in the warehouse around the clock, which was good for keeping out rodents of varying sizes.

Now Suzy had to decide what to do with the man she’d brought here. Still radiating that eerie focus, he was watching the street over Suzy’s shoulder as if expecting more super-tall muggers to materialize out of the shadows. Which, all things considered, made sense. But they couldn’t stay in the hallway; if the nice but nosy lady on the first floor spotted them, she’d come knocking out of the unrestrained curiosity available only to old ladies who ran knitting circles.

Suzy tugged at his sleeve. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll get you coffee.”

“I’m glad you’re safe.” He flashed a wide smile at her.

“Yeah, me too. Let’s go.”

“But they could be back. They could have seen us.”

“If you hang around here,” Suzy said and pulled harder, “they’ll see your long nose peek out the door. Or Agatha might see us.”

“Who?”

“Never mind. Old lady on first.”

“Is she a taker?” he asked, looking concerned.

“A whuh?”

“Like those men.”

“No.” Suzy sighed and shook her head. The man could be summed up in three words: Cavalier, Cute, and Corny. “She’s not a thief, just a mad gossiper. Okay?” 

“If you are sure.”

“I am,” Suzy said and managed to tear him away from the doorway. “Now come.”

They walked quickly up the stairs and met no one. Suzy ushered the man inside flat, locked the door, put the back of a chair under door handle, and breathed out. Safe at last.

Her two rooms overlooked the warehouse, but the roof was too far down for any burglar to make their way up to her window. Unless they were acrobats. Or had wings. After the past weeks, she wouldn’t rule anything out. It felt miraculously good to be home, surrounded by her purple walls and her second-hand but comfy furniture, which included a low table occupied by her laptop, a bookshelf bursting with novels, and a dead TV now serving as stand for a big plant of unknown type. The final major piece of furniture took up most of the space in the other room: A large double bed, complete with a frame of cast iron, a thick mattress, and layers of blankets and sheets to keep the cold out. A bed fit for a queen, especially one of the Night. The ceiling was high enough to hold an electric candelabra she’d found in a pawn shop, and she flicked the switch as soon as the door was locked. A weak light filled the flat; the bulbs were the kind that flickered to emulate real flame. They were feeble and a bit cheesy, but she loved the soft glow.

Now she’d brought a stranger here, which wasn’t the first time, but no one had been as strange as this one. That should worry her, but she felt strangely safe around him. After all, he had helped her against those...people...and the least she could do was feed him some coffee. And he was disgracefully cute underneath his outfit, which now dripped water all over Suzy’s carpet.

As soon as he had come inside her flat, he had moved to the window and scouted the street as if expecting some new threat to appear. In the light of the streetlamps below, his face looked like marble, and again she wondered how old he was; he looked not a day past twenty, but he had the presence of someone older. A mystery, and an attractive one. Pity she didn’t know his story, and why those men had attacked. She didn’t even know for sure what had made her bring him here, but it felt right. Tomorrow, she’d think this through. After she’d called Liz, Beth, Anne, Jude – she’d call everyone – and shared her adventurous night. Right now, she was too flustered, spooked and adrenaline-pumped to use her brain. She been so scared she couldn’t even use her voice. That was a first.

“I couldn’t scream,” Suzy said. “It was as if someone was trying to choke me.”

“A talisman,” the man said over his shoulder. He was still staring at the street below the window. “One of them would have carried it. I have seen their like before. Subdues loud noises. Very useful for being discreet.”

“Some kind of secret agent gadget?” She bit her lip and hoped they hadn’t beamed her with anything cancerous. “By the way, a name would be nice.”

“Apologies,” he said. “I’m Cai.”

“Suzy,” Suzy said. “Cai,” she repeated. “What’s that, German?”

“English. It is short for Caiside.”

“What kind of name is
that
?” Suzy scoffed, although she was impressed. Few had names fit for a band, but his would work.

“An old name,” he said. “Do you happen to have any tea?”

Suzy rolled her eyes once she managed to tear them off his back. “Should’ve guessed,” she said. “You English people.”

“Do you know many Anglecynn?” he asked, sounding intrigued.

“Don’t think I’ve heard of those.”

“You haven’t?” He looked confused. “I mean to say, do you know many Englishmen?”

“Not really,” Suzy said and shrugged. “I’ve met a few.” Including a certain man in a dark forest not long ago – Cai’s friend, if he told the truth – but she wasn’t about to let that slip. She rolled off the couch and walked to her kitchenette. There had to be a teabag somewhere; she loathed tea, but some of her friends drank the stuff. “Haven’t made the trip there yet,” she added. “Might one day. See Big Ben and all that. By the way, are tiny yellow umbrellas all the rage in London?”

“I – think not,” he said. “Why?”

Suzy wondered how to tell him it made him look like a colour-blind mime artist. “They’re a bit unusual over here.”

“I see.” He shrugged, then smiled. “I came to New York very recently. Less than an hour ago, in fact. There weren’t many shops around. I was in a hurry, so I visited a small night-open discount warehouse.” He pronounced the words slowly, as if they were new no him.

“Did you lose your glasses on your way to the US?” Suzy asked.

“Pardon?”

“The airport’s full of shops,” Suzy said, not intending to let him off the hook. “Most of them open all the time. Anything you need at crazy prices. No way you could’ve missed them.”

His frowned in thought. “The airport?”

“Don’t tell me you came by boat.”

“Ah – no.”

“So what’s with the Crusty the Clown theme?” Suzy popped open her water boiler, checked for roaches, and switched it on. “You’re a worse dresser than my granddad, and that’s saying some.”

His mouth worked soundlessly. After a moment he looked down, as if seeing himself for the first time. “These garments aren’t fashionable?”

“Maybe in a small-town carnival. A scary one. I suppose they all are, come to think of it.”

He looked part amused, part embarrassed. “You’re confusing me.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Suzy said. “And you’re dripping all over my carpet. Not that I’m afraid of stains, but there’s a pool around your feet.”

“Oh,” he said, but he didn’t move.

Suzy sighed. Cute but daft. She wondered how someone willing to go toe-to-toe with three thugs could be so hesitant. On the other hand, in a weird way, it made him ever cuter.
Danger danger danger
rang the warning bells in her head, but she muffled them before they grew too noisy. She’d had enough of unease tonight; she had already decided she trusted this man, and she would stick to her decision. “I’ll get you a towel,” she said.

“You don’t have to.” He turned back to watching the street. “Tea is more than enough.”

“A
towel
,” Suzy clarified. The word must mean something else in British English. “For, you know, towelling yourself.”

“Oh,” he said and looked back at her. “Then I thank you.”

Suzy cleared her throat and tried not to stare at how his eyes reflected the neon from below. The man’s eyes were at odds with everything else about him, except perhaps his fighting skills. A woman could perhaps not drown in them, but she could definitely make use of a life vest. Or a stiff drink.

She walked over to her only cupboard, currently doubling as emergency food stash and laundry basket, and took her largest towel, black as all the others. “Use this,” she said and tossed the towel to the man.

He snatched it from the air and stood still, gazing the towel curiously as if Suzy had tossed him a part of a rocket engine. “Thank you,” he said. “Don’t too you want to get dry?”

“I’m having a shower once you’re gone.”

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

Suzy turned to her kitchenette to avoid those eyes and that smile. She suppressed the urge to say no; even though he was a bit weird, he was by far the most interesting person she’d met in a long time. There was also the fact that he’d mentioned Greene, so this might be a chance to figure out exactly who that man in the forest was.
And he’s gorgeous
, whispered the ever-present devil on Suzy’s shoulder. Apparently, some people had an angel on their other shoulder, but Suzy had always seemed stuck without a voice of reason to counter her devil’s comments.