The Seduction of a Reluctant Romantic

By Violent Pornography

SLASH Holden Atticus May is perfection - if you ignore his attitude problem, shady past and his rather unusual job as an ‘Odd Job Man’ for the supernatural underworld of London. Well it takes one to know one. And with his newest case he’s getting to ‘know’ one quite well.

Rated mature for language, violence and sexual scenes later

The lyrics are from “Blood Thirsty Bastards” by Dirty Pretty Things. I don’t own them sadly, they do.

Blood Thirsty Bastards
Making plans for no one
But themselves
In this world of disaster
I just need someone
For myself

All the sycophants and vampires
Well I packed them off to hell
Oh I’ve been up for days now
I hope no one can tell

I do my bit oh yes
To cleanse my hands from lies
I’m feeding up the zombies
Hatched from their own eyes

I get two kinds of reactions to my name. Some people laugh and make a comment about my parents’ apparent love of great American literature and the less educated immediately assume I’m American and begin to talk a bit slower.

Like this guy sat next to me right now, Mr Big Shot Business man who’s talking louder than anybody should at nine in the morning into his mobile about spreadsheets and a load of reports that even the person on the end, who’s apparently called Ted, doesn’t care about. He finishes his phone call and notices me, and does the possibly most patronizing thing in the history of the universe.

“Sorry about that, I forgot to ask your name,” he says in an incredibly posh Oxford bred voice. I smile, though I’m more aware it comes out as more of a grimace. I can see him swirling the name around his head as he listens to the train announcer.

“Holden, ah, I suppose your parents named you after that chap from the book,” He smiles, obviously showing that all the money his parents spent on some top notch boarding school all those years ago was very much worth it. I look out of the train window, smiling when I notice that soon I’ll be back in good old London. I try very hard not to roll my eyes at the idiots I’m surrounded by and choose to ignore whatever intelligent quip the man is making at me now.

Something about having open minded parents I think. I resist the urge to snort at this. Oh yes my parents are incredibly open minded, one of them a two hundred year old fire demon and the other a totally idiotic woman who in between snorting enough cocaine up her nose to kill a fucking elephant and writing a great British novel (think Trainspotting, but three pages long and shit) thought that he would make a great husband and an even better father.

Very open minded.

I continue to ignore him as he talks to me as we are pulling into the station, and because he really can’t take a hint he asks me to go for coffee with him. Just because I was sat with him on train he thinks I like him? I’d rather be boiled in my own piss thanks mate. I take my phone out at the same moment he opens his mouth to continue talking, but his phone rings and he walks off talking rapidly into it while juggling his paper and bag and coffee.

I hope he drops them all. Prick.

I light up when I reach the bus stop, and inhale deeply, waiting for my red bus to come trundling around the corner. I hitch my bag onto my shoulder and shuffle my feet, glancing at the demon walking my way. He catches my eye and I shake my head, perfectly aware what he wants.

Think the government run this country? You’re wrong. It’s my kind who does the underworld of supernatural creatures that co-exist reasonably peacefully under the rule of their elected council, who in turn control your government. And if they have problems, they contact me.

I’m an assassin. At least sometimes I am, sometimes I’m a Private Investigator. Sometimes I just remove curses, break up gangs. I help humans get rid of the supernatural, I help the supernatural get rid of humans, and I help the supernatural get rid of the supernatural. I save humans mixed up in supernatural business, or I kill humans mixed up in supernatural business. I’m useful like that.

I work through reputation, my names dropped in the right circles, you have a problem, and you come and see me. Simple. I’ll do whatever job I’m paid to do and do it damn well. I work for humans or the monsters, though it’s often quite unusual that the humans who know of the supernatural know it enough to have had my name dropped in. My office actually belongs to my flat mate – rich brat – who never uses it as she just designs all the clothes she makes in the flat now and just never told her father who still pays rent. So I use it as a place to meet my clients and keep information about the more powerful figures, gangs and creatures in the city, with my case notes on old clients, just in case they come back for more help.

I like to think I’m providing a service – for a fair amount of money.

I inhale deeply and watch the busy Londoners running in and out of the Covent Garden tube station. I love London, with its hustle and bustle and dirty air. It’s odd, for someone who doesn’t like people as much as I do, to love being in such a huge city, but I do. I love everything from the markets where Amy plies her trade (which makes her sound like a prostitute but she’s not, she designs clothes) to the busy banks of the River Thames. I flick my cigarette into the road as the rain begins to throw itself from the sky in some mad suicide. I sigh, half wishing to join it and climb onto the growling bus that has just pulled up.

I walk through the door of the flat and throw my keys on the table, hearing Amy already home (if she ever even left) the television blaring. I walk into the living room section of the flat and glance at the figure curled up on the sofa munching cereal.

“Did you just get up?” I ask, glancing at her pink floral shorts and black top; sorry my black top, to her roughly tied up hair. She yawns and nods, glancing to look at me before turning back to the TV. “Are you watching Witch?” I ask her sitting next to her as I pull my coat off and sling it on the arm of the chair.

“Hey, you can’t say it like that when you know what it is just from looking at the screen,” she points out, taking another mouthful of soggy cereal. I sigh and push my red hair from my face as she continues, “anyway Caleb is hot, and you just know that he and Cornelia have a thing for each other,” she says very matter of factly as I walk in the kitchen to fix myself a drink.

“He’s not real.” I shout from the kitchen and she snorts loudly.

“Neither were vampires and ghosts and all that other shit before I met you,” she argues as I enter the room again.

“Please, there is a difference between cartoons and shit like me,” I say, not bothering to disguise the disgust in my voice as I say the words shit like me. She glances at me, her huge brown eyes wide before she shifts slightly, and drops her mess of blonde hair and head onto my shoulder.

“I’ve missed you. Alan’s not as fun as you. He isn’t a bastard.” She mutters, flicking my nose. I growl and she tugs at my hand, “Come out tonight, I bet I can hook you up with a really cute guy I know,”

I smile and tug her hair. She’s been trying to set me up with cute guys since the age of fifteen. It’s never worked. I shake my head at her and she pouts. I feel bad for one moment before it vanishes. I love Amy to the bottom of my heart, but everyone she hangs round with annoys the hell out of me. She’s this social butterfly who can just connect with people, and I’m just the moody, awkward best friend, the one that everybody asks why she’s friends with. But I’m the one she’ll drop everything for, even her boyfriend, I’m the one she will walk over hot coals for, because she’s always been there, always, ever since we were three year old kids and I beat the shit out of some kid who stole her ice cream. She’s the only person who knows the whole me, everything and could ever still love me for it. That’s why we’re having the same conversation we do every other Friday night.

“I have a job tonight,” I smile and she rolls her eyes, standing up and waltzing out of the room but not before leaving me with her killer line.

“Any other normal twenty five year old would jump at the chance to go out on a Friday night and be hooked up with someone. Oh, was your trip good?”

I nod and she rolls her eyes again, obviously satisfied with the fact that as usual visiting my parents was thrilling and productive.

I shake my head as I hear the shower being turned on because as always she’s managed to forget, I’m not normal.

---

I reach the office quickly to be met by the shifting figure of the demon guy from earlier. I sigh and open the door, ushering him inside and sitting down. He shifts and doesn’t quite make eye contact and I can feel my suspicions rising already.

“What do you want?” I ask, quickly. I’m pretty straight to the point like that. He twists his hands and frowns slightly. Air demon of some kind maybe, I don’t know, problem is these guys are quite flighty.

“I need, look shit, I’ve never done this before, but I was told to find you and that you would help. Look I just need a guy finding, he’s a wizard, hard to track. No normal investigator could so I’ve come to you. He’s defiantly in London.” He glances at the door behind him and shifts in his chair again.

“Okay, when do you need him found buy?” I ask, pulling out my note book and writing the description of the guy across from me briefly. I like to cross reference people, just in case.

“Tonight, Jesus, tonight if possible,” He mutters and I puff out my cheeks, I resist the urge to make some joke about the Jesus comment, but stop as it would be highly unprofessional, and I don’t like making jokes around customers.

“That’s going to cost you,” I say, finishing my sketch of him and printing the word Nervy directly underneath it. Nervy nods and smiles, rubbing his hands together,

“I have a lot of cash,” he mutters almost to himself and I take in his appearance, he’s dressed in loose torn pants and a huge white shirt, with a large black jacket on. I can’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Can you do it?” He asks and I snort.

“Of course but first I need everything you know about this wizard,”

I light a cigarette as Nervy starts talking about what he knows about the person he wants me to find; which is rather a lot actually. Between taking a draw and making notes on what he’s saying, I list all the suspicions I have about him in my head. What can I say; I believe everybody has an ulterior motive.

I make him stop speaking and push my hair from my face. I need to get it cut; I’m starting to look like one of those emo kids who hang around Camden Lock looking too cool for the primary school they are in.

“Why wait till now?” I ask, meeting his eyes and stubbing out my cigarette into the overflowing ashtray next to me.

“I’ve been trying to track you down before this, but I couldn’t,” He explains, and I’m about to make some cutting comment, when I realize I was in Scotland the last two days. I nod and arrange a place to meet him when I have the wizard for him and I run my fingers through my hair. Looks like it’s going to be a really long day.

---

WOOOO! Another one of my stories of the ground! Go me!

It probably doesn’t seem like much now but let me know if you like the idea of it and stuff. I’m working on chapter 2 already because that’s when my baby really gets into action.

It’s different from King of the Closet, but I’m still writing that nearly finished chapter seven actually, just this has been sat on my computer in its little bare bones stage so I decided to see if people liked it. It’s a bit more grounded in real life. Less fantasy.

Violent Pornography