tried to eat the electricity we were feasting on. And even though we were greater and mightier than ever any mortal machine, it was sucking down the power, eating up our speed as we competed for the live rail and besides, there wasn’t enough room for it and us in the tunnel, one would have to go and we weren’t going to stop never stop never give up the fire or the blaze or the
I pulled our hand free from the live rail.
The burning blue fires went out.
The great angel wings, blue electric angel wings that had carried us from the end of the line to here, spat and fizzed, began to melt and dissolve into a thousand wriggling blue sparks, that flashed and popped like exploding blue maggots on the line for a moment behind us, before dissolving into nothing. I twisted in the air as the last furious blast of electricity faded from across our skin, pulling Oda tighter into me and turning my body towards the platform as with a sad snap of electricity the lightning on the live rail went out and we tumbled, hissing and smoking with speed and fire, onto the platform of Balham station.
Oda came free from my arms as we fell, sliding across the concrete and tiles, people scattering to get out of our way. I felt dull pain, followed by the hot burning of blood starting to seep through my skin, almost a friend now, an agony I knew how to deal with; and I rolled across the platform, didn’t try to fight it, just rolled until I bumped up against a wall covered in posters and bits of old chewing gum, and stopped.
Above me, an Indian-looking man pulling a heroic face so manly it was surprising his jaw didn’t pop straight from his skull, stared sombrely down at me from beneath a sign proclaiming “THE MIGHTY ALI SINGS BOLLYWOOD’S GREATEST HITS”. I looked to my left. A collection of B- and C-list celebrities stared back at me in various character-filled poses, from a poster declaring, “NOW IS THE AGE OF HEROES!!!” I groaned and rolled onto my side. I could feel blood running down from my left shoulder, blood pooling in the palm of my right hand. Our eyes drifted past the platform edge, fell on the live rail. We whimpered, tried to crawl towards it, digging our fingers into the dull, dry tiles. I tried to get up, we staggered and fell back down, still moving towards the rail. I tried to turn my head away, but we couldn’t, could still taste the electricity on our tongue, beautiful burning brightness.
“Please,” we whimpered, “please please please.”
I closed our eyes.
“Please, please, please,” we whimpered.
I hid my head in my hands, brought my knees up to my chest, felt the blood seeping through the twin crosses carved in my skin, staining my hair where my fingers had curled around my skull.
“So beautiful,” we whispered.
So beautiful.
This is why sorcerers go mad.
I crawled onto my hands and knees, head turned away from the live rail. We wanted to look please one last look one last breath one last
I dragged myself up onto my feet, turned away, leant against the nearest wall, gasping for breath, dirty, wonderful, spit-staining tunnel air. We were going to scream, just like a child, like an injured animal with no words to express the idea that it was going to die, we were going to scream.
Then someone said, “Uh . . . mate?”
I opened my eyes, stared into a stranger’s face. He was wearing the slightly undignified bright blue and white uniform of an Underground worker, holding a radio in one hand, a white signal paddle in another. He was about twenty years old. He looked terrified: his hands shook, his voice stumbled over the simplest sounds.
“Uh . . .” he began.
I started walking, pushed past him, keeping our eyes turned firmly away from the rails. Oda had fallen some few yards behind me, and was struggling to pick herself up. We helped her, dragging her up by an arm; she looked at us and said not a word, but turned and started to stagger towards the escalator up from the platform, and I followed.
“Hey, mate?” The platform manager’s voice again, weak and uncertain.
I didn’t look back, couldn’t look back. We stumbled to the bottom of the escalator and started climbing it, leaning on the black rubber handrail that dragged a little faster than the stairs could rise.