by Lee Monroe
‘Maybe he’s still mad?’ I shrugged. ‘Or not completely over his … breakdown.’
‘He has nobody.’ Soren sounded so mournful that I almost laughed.
‘Only the whole of the Celestial kingdom.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘He’s really freaked you out, hasn’t he?’
‘It’s just I am sure he is after something …’ Soren shook his head. ‘He lingered as though he wanted more than just to check I was staying here with Vanya …’
‘Well he must have changed his mind,’ I said. ‘And to be honest Raphael is the last person I want to be thinking about right now. I had hoped I would never have to see him again.’
‘No.’ Soren smiled. ‘I didn’t think about that. Let’s just forget it. It was nothing after all.’ He ran his fingers through his inky hair. ‘But perhaps we should keep out of his way from now on.’
I had never seen Soren so … down. But I couldn’t fathom it. I decided to shrug it off.
‘So. What next?’ I asked, a sense of steeliness overtaking me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
‘Raffy, dear.’ Celeste entered the dining room, where her great-son was staring vacantly at his plate of food. She looked perturbed, her brow creased with worry.
The boy looked up, though still distracted.
‘Good morning,’ he said, rising from his chair out of courtesy.
‘Everything all right?’ She settled herself on a chair and poured some teas from the pot into a cup. ‘You seem a little absent at the moment.’
‘I am a little tired,’ answered Raphael, smiling now. ‘We went for a long ride yesterday.’
‘We?’ Celeste raised an eyebrow.
‘Lowe, and a couple of the stable boys.’ Raphael picked up a fork and poked at his food, now cold. ‘It is good exercise, but I feel I am wasting my days … I should be engaged in something more productive.’
Celeste smiled approvingly. She sipped her tea elegantly, before putting her cup down.
‘I am glad to hear you say that…And…as you know, the Celestial Parade is in a few days. I think it would be a good time for you to take up your place as a senior member of this family. I would like you to host the event.’
Raphael looked a little startled, but recovered himself quickly.
‘Of course … it would be an honour.’ He smiled, but with ambivalence. He had hoped to spend the next few days planning. The Celestial Parade was held twice a year, to celebrate the seasons of summer and winter. Marching bands, a military display – pomp and ceremony to show the people of Nissilum how mighty a place it was and how wonderful its traditions were. Afterwards, a selection of folk were invited back to the palace for a lavish banquet. It was this that Celeste meant him to host. He wondered if he was capable of pretending for that long.
‘Wonderful.’ Celeste beamed. ‘Of course, the staff here will assist you in every way possible.’
‘Yes.’ Raphael nodded, hiding his irritation. ‘Good.’
‘I do worry about you still,’ said his great-mother, her face softening with concern. ‘You are still just a boy. But with your father gone—’
‘Yes.’ He cut her off and got to his feet. ‘You need not worry. I am perfectly capable of stepping up to the mark.’
‘I know that.’ Celeste was taken aback. ‘I simply meant—’
‘I know. I must go … I need to inspect the cellar stores,’ Raphael told her.
‘Of course.’ She nodded, waiting for his back to turn before giving vent to more anxiety in her expression.
Raphael made his way down to the palace basement. It was cold, dark, and his footsteps echoed on the stone steps. Reaching the bottom, he stopped outside a large wooden cupboard and opened it. Inside, dozens of keys hung on dozens of hooks. Reaching in, the boy ran his fingers almost tenderly across them before he plucked a bunch down and shut the door to the cupboard.
Advancing down the marble corridor, he made for a door at the end, next to the palace cells. The Armory. Inside he would find all the weapons the palace had at its disposal in the rare event of an attack. Raphael found the right key and opened the heavy door. Inside was an array of somewhat crude weaponry. Crossbows, swords. On the walls, assorted sizes of guns.
There wasn’t much. But perhaps enough.
Raphael breathed in and out slowly, excitement was mounting inside him. He leaned back against the heavy door, his eyes running back and forth over what he could see inside this room. Then he slumped down to his knees, putting his hands to his temples. Pictures flashed through his mind. Today he felt as though he had seen a ghost. He had no idea where he came from, but the black-eyed boy residing at Vanya Borgia’s house was significant. Almost as though he had arrived on Nissilum, just as Raphael was feeling such restlessness, by design. Raphael had somehow felt him to be a kindred spirit. But how he had come to know Jane … ? Raphael lifted his head, feeling fuzzy-headed. He must think clearly. He had much to do … and he needed all his wits about him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘Here.’ Soren tossed a stiff white card at me.
I had been lying in the bedroom, gazing out of the window, wondering what time it was back home. What day. It seemed like I had been gone for ever. I had to keep remembering that time here moved slowly. That in reality I had probably only been gone for a few hours.
The card landed beside me on the bed. As I focussed on what was written on it, I sat up blearily.
‘The Celestial Parade,’ I read out, then looked up at Soren. ‘What is this?’
‘Vanya got her special invitation today,’ he said. ‘It is a big occasion for all the heads of Nissilum’s families. A time for spreading love and harmony amongst vampires, werewolves and witches …’ He spoke in a facetious monotone.
‘That’s nice.’ I handed him back the card. ‘But it has nothing to do with me, does it?’
He perched on the end of the bed. ‘Why not?’
‘Because I won’t be going.’ I laughed darkly. ‘I mean, I can’t see Henora greeting me with open arms, can you?’
‘Well, no. But she needn’t know you’re there.’
I gave him a look. ‘Listen. You want to see Luca, right?’ Soren fixed me with a look of his own.
‘Well, yes. But I don’t think—’
Soren waved a hand dismissively. ‘Think of it as fancy dress.’
I narrowed me eyes. ‘Soren. What are you up to?’
‘Vanya has a marvellous selection of disguises … Wigs, for example.’ He cocked his head. ‘Platinum blonde, perhaps?’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘No. Something dark to bring out your eyes and give you a vampirish edge.’
I flared my nostrils. ‘No way.’
‘For myself, I favour curls.’ He turned to the mirror over the dressing table, and ruffled his hair theatrically. ‘Chestnut curls.’
I fought a smile. ‘Soren, you’re actually enjoying this, aren’t you?’
‘Well, why not? If all else fails, think of the tale you will be able to tell your grandchildren.’
‘I can’t think that far ahead,’ I sighed. ‘And Luca won’t even recognise me.’
‘If he truly loves you …’ Soren said, looking directly into my eyes. ‘He will recognise you.’
Vanya threw open a white-painted door off the landing.
‘Here,’ she said, ‘I have so many outfits to choose from!’ She pushed me forward into a vast cupboard – the size of my bedroom at home. Two long rails stood end to end, packed with clothes. Below the rails, hundreds of pairs of shoes. Above, dozens of hats and wigs.
I fiddled with my hair. ‘I don’t know where to start.’
Vanya whirled round, flashing me a white smile. ‘Luckily for you, I do.’ She turned back and advanced towards one side of the room, riffling through some dresses. Sparkling, sombre, delicate and pale, dark and velvet.
‘Now,’ she said breathlessly, ‘I think something dramatically different for you, darling.’
‘I don’t want to stand out,’ I protested.
&nb
sp; ‘No,’ she said dryly, ‘of course you don’t.’ She picked out a tight crimson velvet dress, strapless, with a bottom like a fish tail. Over the bust was a sprinkling of sequins, and a large velvet corsage, like a black rose, positioned where the shoulder should be.
I stepped forward, intrigued in spite of myself.
‘You like?’ Vanya’s voice was syrupy and she beckoned me forward. ‘Why don’t you try it on?’
‘I don’t know.’ I bit my lip. ‘It looks a little …’
‘A little sexy?’ She sniffed. ‘Honestly, you are infuriating. Why do you insist on hiding your body?’ She looked me up and down. ‘You really shouldn’t … it could be your most valuable weapon.’
‘You think?’ I tried not to look down. Truth be told, I had never felt less sexy. It’s funny what a little rejection can do for your confidence.
‘Don’t let it,’ Vanya spoke softly, reading my mind. My eyes widened.
I took the dress from her. ‘I’ll try it.’
Vanya moved quickly to the shelf above the wheel, plucking a short black poker-straight bob from a doll’s head. It was so glossy I could practically see my reflection in it.
‘Absolutely not,’ I said, shaking my head.
‘Oh pleeeassse,’ Vanya wheedled. ‘Just try it?’
I grabbed it from her. ‘OK. Now please leave.’
‘OK,’ she said meekly, picking up the hem of her dress. She had the tiniest waist imaginable I noticed. ‘But I’ll be just outside, dear. Let me know when you’re ready.’
I waited for her to shut the door behind her before I started taking off my jeans, T-shirt and cardigan. I pushed down my bra straps and stepped into the dress. It slipped up my body effortlessly. I looked down. I was long, and lean. My waist was tiny and the bust was the perfect size.
So far so good.
I looked at the wig, puffing out my cheeks, then gathered my long hair up and tied it as neatly as I could into a small bun. Luckily it was fine and, when I patted it down, didn’t create too much of a bump. I pulled on the wig, tucking loose strands of hair underneath. It had a short blunt fringe and was cut geometrically, like a kind of sexy black helmet.
Finally, I turned to look in the mirror, shutting my eyes for a few minutes before opening them again.
I opened my mouth and almost gasped at my reflection. I was totally unrecognisable. The pitch black of my hair made my grey eyes look huge and vivid. The sharp bobbed style gave me cheekbones. My eyes travelled down to the dress. And the lusciousness of the crimson sent a subtle glow across my skin tone. I looked like a woman. Not a girl. I hadn’t noticed my body changing that much, but it must have done. Because I went in and out in a way I had never done before.
‘Jane!’ Vanya trilled from outside. ‘Everything all right in there?’
I couldn’t speak for a moment, too busy taking in the apparition in the mirror.
‘Jane?’ She rapped on the door. ‘Please may I come in?’
‘Yes,’ I croaked, instinctively wanting to hide myself.
The door opened and she swept back in, stopping, her eyes sweeping like searchlights up and down my body.
‘Well, well, well.’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘I knew it.’
‘I’m really not sure about this,’ I said quickly. ‘It’s just too … ostentatious.’
‘Dear God in heaven,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘You really are the most pathetic, wheedling child …’
‘What?’ I said, outraged.
‘You don’t get it, do you darling.’ She tapped her head. ‘It’s simply not sinking into that provincial, self-deprecating little head of yours.’
I set my mouth, furious, but on some level knowing she had a point.
‘Listen,’ she said wearily, ‘you are never going to win this little game if you put yourself on the back foot all the time. If you refuse to dazzle.’
‘Why should I need to dazzle?’ I glared at her.
‘Oh, sweetheart, you are so naïve.’ She reached out and deftly adjusted the wig.
‘This wig is itchy,’ I said sulkily.
‘We have to suffer to be beautiful,’ she said. ‘Get over it.’
I smirked, knowing she was too busy fiddling with my hair to see.
When she’d finished I turned back to the mirror myself.
‘I guess, I do look…’
‘Stunning,’ came a voice from the open doorway. ‘Absolutely stunning.’
Vanya and I turned to see Soren leaning up against the wall.
‘Isn’t she?’ Vanya was almost maternal. Though a million miles away from the mother I knew.
Soren came forward.
‘The time will come for us to shine, Jane,’ he said, looking straight into my eyes. ‘Don’t you think?’
Colour was seeping up my body, heading for my cheeks. Something about the way Soren was looking at me, made me uncomfortable … coy even. Dragging my eyes away from his, I looked back down at my shape and stroked the pink velvet with my fingertips.
When I finally looked back, I met his gaze with new confidence.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The palace library was seldom visited these days. Gabriel had spent hours in there, much to the exasperation of his wife and Celeste. But Raphael had always loved seeing his father, seated at the large centre table, books open in front of him and his head bent in intent study. For a long time now the place had been chilly, underused and lonely. As Raphael turned the handle, a musty smell wafted out.
He pushed the door wide open, standing still for a moment, gazing at the hundreds of books shelved in glass cupboards.
Taking a deep breath, Raphael forced the memory of his father out of his head and advanced towards the glass cabinet beyond the centre table. He knew that somewhere in there he would find what he was looking for.
The cabinet rested on a large chest, housing several drawers. Raphael drew one out and found the key. Unlocking the cabinet, he ran his finger along the books on the bottom shelf. Alphabetically ordered, with ageing leather spines. He crouched until his eyes settled on one near the end of the row.
Werewolf Dynasties: Nissilum 800 to 880.
As he slid the book out, Raphael was aware of how delicate it was, how fragile the case; the leaves within the book crackled. Holding it carefully in his hands, he seated himself at the table, and began slowly turning the pages. The book listed the family trees of all the first werewolf breeds that came to Nissilum. These breeds still existed, though they tended to stay in their original quarters: North, South, East and West. A small number of wolves had revolted, disobeyed the laws and been banished, or escaped. As a member of the Celestial family, Raphael was privy to more information than most on the exact individuals who had committed such acts of treachery, or insubordination. He had also listened at doorways as a child, heard his elders discussing cases; and on occasion had been allowed to sit in on state meetings where such matters had been analysed and punishments had been ordered. Some cases had stuck in his head. Others had been of little interest.
Raphael recalled the day that one young wolf was ruled as an outcast and a warrant issued for his imprisonment. He had been particularly fascinated because the werewolf had been around his age. Born on the same day, the same month, the ame year. Yet his crimes, his acts had been devastating to his family. Pure evil, had been the description in court. The cub had attacked his mother, his father, brother and one of his sisters. Another sister had curiously escaped attack … was found crouched in a wood in the Southern quarter, shivering and traumatised. She had been taken in, adopted by another family and everything about her previous life had been changed – even her name, it was said. Though after her errant brother had been destroyed, all of Nissilum had respectfully ceased their gossip, in the hope that she would live as normal a life as possible.
Raphael turned the pages, trying not to tear each one as he did so. Eventually he reached the page he was looking for and stopped. There, in type so tiny he had to squint to see it, was the rep
ort he wanted.
From this day forward the eldest cub of the Cage Wolves family will no longer be granted citizenship in Nissilum. With immediate effect he is to be transported to the Celestial Palace and imprisoned until such a method of punishment has been decided by the high court.
That punishment was banishment from Nissilum.
Raphael paused, staring hard at the cub’s name: Saul. It was very possible the cub boy had changed his name. After all, Raphael himself had lived in the guise of the mortal, Evan Forrest. Remembering this, Raphael caught his breath. The cub could be a shape-shifter. He didn’t know how, since only the Royal family – the angels – of Nissilum where endowed with all supernatural powers. If this boy were truly a shape-shifter, then somebody within the Celestial family must have granted him this gift.
Raphael continued reading.
The cub’s only living relative, his sister, Cina, will be rehabilitated with a neighbouring wolf family, whose name shall remain anonymous, but who will endeavour to rid the girl cub of all memory of her brother’s evil massacre.
Raphael swallowed. If Saul was who he thought he was, then he was a grave danger to all here on Nissilum. And if it was he, then what was his true business here? The boy sat back in his chair, his mind racing. Could it be that he planned to kill again? Raphael had needed a second look at the stranger who had appeared out of nowhere with Jane Jonas. He had felt some kind of threatening force coming from him. At least he had felt something he couldn’t explain. But Raphael wasn’t officially privy to the Cage Wolves massacre case. He needed to keep an eye on the boy if he could. He couldn’t just order him gone without proof.
Raphael carefully closed the book, stood and placed it back on the bottom shelf. As he closed the glass cabinet his own reflection stared back at him, muted and dark in the dim light of the library. His eyes, dark now, glowered piercingly, and though he knew he was just looking at himself, Raphael felt a ripple of fear at the sight.
