An extract introducing one of the key characters in my novel, Otherworld. Seren, one of the beings who created our world, comes across someone unworthy. Contains some swearing. 

Seren’s footsteps dance along the very edge of the pavement. She’s singing to herself under her breath. She’s not sure what song but it’s calming and peaceful and it reminds her of the beautiful things rather than her anger. That’s what matters.

The smog makes the stars all blurry.

She frowns up at the sky, her dance coming to a stop. And when she stops, she hears him breathing behind her.

They’re beautiful all the same.

An arm hooks around her neck. She doesn’t protest. She doesn’t struggle. She doesn’t scream. He drags her back but his arm slacks, surprised by her lack of reaction. Seren darts underneath it. Her leg twists. In one smooth motion she kicks him into the alley he had been aiming for.

“Hi. Were you wanting something?”

He doubles over, panting. He’s larger than her by at least a head and three times wider but Seren just smiles as he straightens up, squaring his shoulders, cracking his fists. His lip is bleeding. She doesn’t remember punching him but sometimes anger blinds. There’s blood on her knuckles. She looks back up at the stars and takes a calming breath.

“It’s a beautiful night, don’t you think?”

He’s not as drunk as she thought. His eyes are clear. “You cut me, bitch.”

“Sorry. Wrong night.” She shrugs. “Wrong bitch. D’you want to leave it at that? It’s a beautiful night. No point in ruining it.”

He smiles. The coldness in that smile is surprising. He knows what he’s doing. It’s not the first time he’s done it. She can see it in his confidence. Hear it in his voice.

Blood thuds in her ears.

Men like you don’t deserve to live in my world.

She forces her eyes back up to the sky. “I’d really think twice about attacking,” she says. “I’m working on some anger management issues, but it’s an uphill struggle, you know?”

He strides forward.

Without looking down, Seren reaches out a hand.

The man stops. His eyes widen almost comically and he pulls but he can’t pull away.

Too late.

Her fingers touch his chest and sink in, past the skin, past anything humanity is aware of. The man’s head cracks back. His breathing’s shallow and quick. His eyes dart around the alley. Aware of everything. Understanding nothing. Unable to speak or move. Just standing there with his intended victim’s hand inside his chest.

“This may hurt a little.”

The light is pale inside of him. So pale, for a minute she struggles to find it. But it’s there. Pulsing weakly. Recognising the brightness inside of her and reaching out towards her. Thousands of years and generations upon generations of humanity have paled what once was bright but she remains as powerful as ever. The light is solid under her hands. She clenches it and the man’s body jolts.

In her fingers, she holds everything that makes this man real. Everything that makes him exist in this world. This pale, trembling light – so desperate to be a part of her, to be with her – is the only thing keeping this man alive and he doesn’t even know it exists. She tightens her grip and he grunts.

“It really is a beautiful night.”

She pulls. The light comes out of him like a thread unravelling and winds instead into Seren’s body, where it’s instantly absorbed into the brightness burning through her veins. Undoing a mistake. One day, maybe, she’ll make something else out of that light. For now though she watches the body crumple and dissolve into fog. Without the light, there is nothing to give it strength, nothing to give it solidity.

The fog dissipates in a second.

Seren rubs her hand together as though they’re dirty, but they’ve emerged completely clear, untouched by delving into the filthy man’s soul.