Slippery Creatures (The Will Darling Adventures, #1)

by K.J. Charles

Nahkampfmesser,

Melee knife

shambolic

shambolic /ˌSHamˈbälik/ I. adjective ‹informal› (chiefly Brit.) chaotic, disorganized, or mismanaged • the department's shambolic accounting. – origin 1970s: from shambles, probably on the pattern of symbolic.

Kim shut the door behind Norris at last, and Will heard the bolt go. He came back through the shop to where Will stood, face unreadable, eyes watchful, incongruous and beautiful in his scuffed black-and-white finery. Will stepped forward and shoved him against a bookcase. Their mouths collided savagely. Will had him by the shoulders but Kim’s grip on his hips was fierce, pulling him in, and he was almost biting at Will’s mouth and tongue. Will kissed him back with equal wildness. The need was urgent, a physical desperation that howled through his nerves and skin. Kim wrapped his leg around Will’s to bring their hips together, then grabbed his hair and tugged his head back to expose his throat, devouring the rough skin, open-mouthed and hungry. Christ, it was good. Will shut his eyes to let sensation overwhelm him, then had to open them again to flick a glance at the windows and make sure the blinds were down. “We’re behind the lamp,” Kim said against the skin of his throat, voice vibrating. “No shadows.” “Shut up.” Will pushed him back again, quashing a sudden mental image of the ranks of bookshelves going over like dominoes. He fumbled at Kim’s waistband with one hand, holding him at the shoulder with the other. Kim’s fingers came up to meet his, and Will grabbed his hand, feeling its warmth. A hand that could use a trench knife, pliant in his. He pushed Kim’s arm back, interlacing their fingers, shoved clothing out of the way with his other hand, found the fierce stiffne...

“I was out there the whole time. Four years and change, not demobbed till late ’19. I was at Ypres and Passchendaele. I did fourteen trench raids.” “Christ!” Kim said, sounding genuinely startled. “Fourteen? Do you have a boxful of medals?” “Pawned them.” “Sorry?” “My grateful nation wasn’t grateful enough to give me a job. I pawned my medals to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly, and I’ll tell you what, the Military Cross doesn’t fetch a great deal, no matter how many bars you have on it. The pawnbroker told me I should have tried for a Victoria Cross. That would be worth something, he said.” Kim’s lips tightened. “Perhaps someone should have a word with him.” “It’s a seller’s market. Did you not read about the chap who marched down Whitehall with his pawn tickets pinned on his uniform where his medals should have been? Anyway, the point is, I know about doing your duty out there. And what you said about honour is balls.” Kim raised his brows. Will pressed on. “Sitting around in the trenches, whittling and telling dirty jokes we’d all heard a dozen times. Going out with your mates knowing a load of them would die to win a hundred yards of ground that Jerry would get back next time, and then doing it over and over again. I got stuck in a shellhole with a sergeant once, under a barrage. We were there for hours, sat in freezing water if you could call it that, keeping our heads down, and once it got dark we crawled back through mud. Afterwards he said to me, ‘When...

HE TOOK THE TRAM, WATCHING huddled people out of the foggy window and the pools of yellow light from the lampposts grow and fade as they passed. There was a persistent drizzle in the air by the time he got out, not quite rain, leaving a film of droplets over his clothing and hat. He shook himself like a dog as he went into Kim’s building. The doorman had clearly been given his name because he let Will go up with a nod. Will knocked on the door. Kim answered. His rooms were warm, and well lit, with half a dozen lamps giving the place a domestic glow. He was wearing a velvet smoking jacket in a deep purple shade, and matching velvet slippers. Will stood in the sitting room, wet and cold and entirely out of place. “Sorry,” he said. “You look like you were having a night in.” “I still am,” Kim pointed out, hanging up the damp hat and coat. “Would you like a drink?” “I...” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to drink, to sit on a sofa and make awkward conversation. “Have you eaten?” “Yes. Thanks,” he added a bit too late. “Are you here to give me the information?” “No.” “Has something terrible happened that I ought to know about?” Will managed a smile. “Not yet.” “Well, that’s all the other options,” Kim said, and stepped close. Will didn’t move. Kim examined his face, eyes searching. He moved his hand up slowly—not tentative, simply giving Will time to push it away or step back. He didn’t. Kim’s fingers brushed his cheek, then slid down, over his jacket front. “That’s a dramatic flowe...

supine /ˈso͞oˌpīn/ I. adjective 1. (of a person) lying face upward. 2. ‹technical› having the front or ventral part upward. 3. (of the hand) with the palm upward. 4. failing to act or protest as a result of moral weakness or indolence • supine in the face of racial injustice. II. noun a Latin verbal noun used only in the accusative and ablative cases, especially to denote purpose (e.g., dictu in mirabile dictu “wonderful to relate”). III. derivatives 1. supinely adverb 2. supineness /ˈso͞oˌpīnnəs / noun – origin late Middle English: the adjective from Latin supinus ‘bent backward’ (related to super ‘above’); the noun from late Latin supinum, neuter of supinus. In grammar, a supine is a form of verbal noun used in some languages. The term is most often used for Latin, where it is one of the four principal parts of a verb. The word refers to a position of lying on one's back (as opposed to 'prone', lying face downward), but there exists no widely accepted etymology that explains why or how the term came to be used to also describe this form of a verb. Latin edit See also: Latin conjugation § Supine, and Latin syntax § The supine There are two supines, I (first) and II (second). They are originally the accusative[1] and dative or ablative forms of a verbal noun in the fourth declension, respectively. First supine edit The first supine ends in -um[a]. It has two uses. The first use is with verbs of motion. In many cases, it indicates purpose: 'Mater pompam me spectatum duxit' is 'Mother took me to watch the procession'. 'Legati ad Caesarem gratulatum convenerunt' is 'The ambassadors came to Caesar to congratulate him'. The translation of this first usage of the first supine is similar to, if not identical to, the Latin clause of purpose. A second usage is in combination with the future passive infinitive. In this second usage it indicates fate; for example "occisum iri"[b] means 'to be going to be killed'. It mostly appears in indirect statements: ' Occisum iri a Milone video' is 'I foresee that he is going to be killed by Milo'. Second supine edit The second supine, which comes with adjectives, is rarely used; only a few verbs have been seen to commonly adopt the form. It is derived from the dative of purpose, which expresses the purpose of a thing or action, or the ablative of respect, which can translate as "with regard/respect to" and is used to indicate to what extent or in what way the main clause is true. It is the same as the first supine but replacing final -um by -ū, with a lengthened u. Mirabile dictū, for example, translates as "amazing to say", where dictū is the supine form. The sense is generally passive, even if usually not explicitly marked as such in idiomatic English translation; for example, difficile creditū, "hard to believe", is more literally "hard to be believed", or "hardly believable". Sanskrit Germanic languages edit In English grammar, the term "supine" is sometimes used to refer to the to-infinitive. The to-infinitive is seen in sentences like "To err is human; to forgive divine." In Swedish grammar, the supine is used with an auxiliary verb to produce some compound verb forms that closely resemble perfect forms. Inspired by the tradition in Swedish grammar, some linguists identify a similar form in the Danish language.[4] In Icelandic grammar, sagnbót (usually translated as "supine") is a verbal form identical to the neuter participle, used to form certain verb tenses. Finnic languages Romance languages edit In Romanian, the supine generally corresponds to an English construction like for [gerund]: "Această carte este de citit" means "This book is for reading". Additionally, the supine in Romanian can be used to express English constructions such as “I have things to do,” which would be translated as “Eu am niște lucruri de făcut.”

They moved to the bedroom. If you sat in a sitting-room with a drink, you had to talk, and he doubted either of them wanted that. So Kim brought a cut glass decanter of very good single malt Scotch and two crystal tumblers, Will kicked off his shoes, and they both lay on the huge double bed. It was lit by more elegant lamps and adorned with pillows in crisply ironed purple linen cases. Kim’s quilt was purple as well. It was a very comfortable room indeed, except for the elephant in it. Will had no intention of mentioning Draven’s monstrous creation, or Kim’s betrayals, or his obvious wariness about his preferences. The former two would unlock the door and let the world in; the last of them was far too much like saying he cared. “Thanks for taking me in,” he said instead. Kim gestured with his glass. “Who would turn away a lost waif on a cold night?” “Waif?” “Metaphorically speaking.” He looked like he was about to say something else, but stopped himself. Will answered anyway, since the question was obvious. “The bookshop was a bit lonely tonight. Lot of dark corners.” “And easily broken windows, and easily forced doors.” “That as well.” “Hard to get a good night’s sleep under the circumstances. I see that.” “You don’t have many dark corners here. Your electric bill must be something.” “Lighting is an essential part of the design of a modern home,” Kim informed him in lofty tones. That sounded like Phoebe. Will sipped his Scotch. “I don’t think Phoebe should come and see me...

I could come round to fuck now and again, when you aren’t working for the Government or taking your fiancée to parties. No. Kim shrugged, as if Will’s silence had been agreement. “Quite. After all, you’ve got more important things on your plate.” “And you’ve got Phoebe.” “Don’t remind me. And for God’s sake don’t tell her you’ve been round or I will never hear the last of it.” “What? I thought—” “She won’t be angry, you fool, she’ll be optimistic.” He said that with despairing resignation. “Phoebe is ever hopeful that I will meet a nice man. Don’t ask me what I’m supposed to do with one.” “You two really are strange,” Will said. “Why in God’s name are you getting married?” “Because her life is not the sunny bubbling stream of joy she makes it appear, and I can at least be of some use this way,” Kim said with a bite in his voice. “Mariage blanc is convenient for both parties, and hardly unusual.” “I don’t know what that is.” “Unconsummated. Marriage for the look of the thing.” “I was taught it was a sacrament,” Will said. “Vows. Something to take seriously, not to play with. And never mind you finding a nice man, how about giving her the chance to? What’s she going to do if she falls in love with someone and she’s married to you already?” “Are you under the impression we haven’t thought about the consequences?” Kim enquired icily. “It really is not, with the greatest respect, your business.” That was pretty final. “I dare say not. Well.” Will stood. “I’ll get dressed and go...

“Are you letting me go?” “I’d be happy to.” Libra smiled. It gave Will the impression he’d sent off a postal order for a booklet on Smiling for Beginners. “You’re a determined man, Mr. Darling. Remarkably so. We could use someone like you in our organisation.” Flattery, plus an offer of companionship. Will had recent and first-hand experience of the powerful lure of togetherness when you were alone. He didn’t intend to fall for that again. “You’ve got a funny way of recruiting people. Have you tried an application form? Might be easier.” Libra smiled again. It was perfunctory. “You’re a very determined man, but a foolish one. Sitting here is a waste of your time, not mine.” Will shrugged, for lack of useful response. Libra shook his head. “You can’t be defiant forever and if you are, what will it achieve? Draven wasn’t the only scientist working on these ideas. Someone else will discover the same thing eventually, or something similar, and do you know what that man will do? He’ll give it or sell it to his government—which may not be ours, it could be the Americans or the Russians, even the Germans. His government will develop it. Other governments will spy, and hear, and copy, or come up with still worse weapons in the name of deterrence. And sooner or later men of power will use it on cities, on London or New York or Berlin, but do you know what they’ll do first?” “Build themselves bunkers, I expect.” Libra seemed genuinely pleased by that. “I knew you had potential. Exac...

Will put his back into work the next day, sorting and tidying as best he could. He started to clear space in one of the upstairs rooms in the hope of one day making it a proper living space. He dropped round to see Maisie at lunchtime and agreed a date to take her out for dinner and the full explanation she made it clear he owed her, and went back to do more work. Nobody official came to interview him. Presumably Ingoldsby was putting a lid on the events around Price’s treachery, or perhaps there was a storm brewing and about to break. Will just worked through the day, and the next one. Working, planning, thinking, waiting. Kim turned up on the third evening. Will had closed up and pulled the blinds against the dark by then. He could only see a silhouette at the door, but Kim’s outline was imprinted on his mind now. He went to the newly mended door to let him in. “Hello,” Kim said, slipping inside. “I thought we should speak.” “I dare say.” Will went to his desk and indicated the spare chair. Kim hovered a moment, then took it. “So what’s new?” Will asked, when he seemed unwilling to start. “Price has died.” Kim spoke neutrally, watching his face. Will nodded. “I should expect the police, then?” “No, you shouldn’t. It’s being handled internally, as they like to say. Ingoldsby agrees you acted with impressive initiative in a difficult situation—I quote him directly—and more to the point, nobody from the WO wants you standing in a public dock, explaining that Price was engag...