Haze

by Paula Weston

  I react without thinking. I smash his wrist—the knife clatters to the ground—and then punch him in the face. Shit. His head is as hard as concrete. I stagger back, cradling my fist. Woosha takes a few slow steps towards me, moving his jaw from side to side, searching for the knife.

  ‘You want some action, sweetheart?’ he says.

  I wait for him to telegraph his next move. What do I do if he lunges at me? What if he—

  His eyes flick over my shoulder. Before I can look, something smacks into my head and shoulders. I sprawl forward. The ground is unforgiving, but I roll over and bring up my knees and hands defensively. Rusty is standing over me, holding a plastic chair. ‘Stay down.’

  I try to sit but he puts his worn boot on my chest and pushes me down.

  ‘Don’t make me hit you again.’ Rusty’s voice isn’t menacing—this is his idea of chivalry.

  ‘You’re wasting your time,’ I say to Rusty, trying to catch my breath. ‘You’re not going to beat Rafa. Look at him.’

  Rusty keeps his boot on my chest—not putting his full weight on it, just enough to keep me in place—and watches the scuffle. Tank lands flat on his back not far from us, blood splattering from a split in his cheek. I wince. I should have taken up Maggie’s offer to work at the Green Bean. I’m pretty sure nobody’s bleeding on the floor over at Pan Beach’s favourite cafe.

  Mick’s guys are all limping. Rafa has barely broken a sweat. When Tank lunges again, Rafa snaps his wrist. Tank howls and drops to his knees.

  ‘Rafa, stop,’ I call out.

  Rusty puts more weight on my chest.

  Rafa lands a couple of good punches on the guy closest to him. ‘Get up,’ he says, not looking my way.

  He’ll keep going until Mick calls it quits, someone calls the cops, or I give him what he’s waiting for. I know what he wants. He wants badass Gabe. But he knows badass Gabe isn’t here. Just me. And I just proved that I don’t know what I’m doing.

  ‘Stay down,’ Rusty says again, as if he can see my mind working.

  I grit my teeth. What is wrong with me? In the past week I’ve killed a hell-beast and fought demons, and I’m letting Rusty Butler pin me to the filthy concrete at the Imperial. With one foot. I’ve got to do something. I need—

  Don’t think.

  I grab Rusty’s boot. He has a second to look down at me with vague amusement before I shove him, hard. He hops backwards, arms wheeling as he tries to keep his balance. I spring to my feet, blood pounding at my temples. I can’t feel anything now except my heart against my ribs.

  Woosha’s knife is under the pool table. Too far away. A plastic chair is closer. I grab it with one hand and fling it at Rusty as he comes towards me. He bats it away, giving me time to snatch up a pool cue. I swing it fast; it cracks as it connects with the side of his head. His knees buckle. He slumps to the floor, dazed.

  Fingers clamp around the back of my neck. I swing the cue again, try to turn, but Woosha wrenches the cue out of my hand. I keep my balance and use my momentum to slam an elbow into his stomach. He lets go and falls sideways. I bring my fist down on his nose. Blood instantly streams down over his lips. He stumbles towards Rafa.

  My hand throbs, but there’s so much adrenaline in my system—and whatever else makes me Rephaite—it’s almost bearable.

  ‘Had enough yet, mate?’ Rafa asks Mick. He’s holding the knife against Woosha’s cheekbone.

  Mick has a death grip on the pool table. His face is pinched.

  ‘Good,’ Rafa says. ‘So we’re clear: you keep out of our business and we’ll keep out of yours.’ Rafa shoves Woosha so hard he sprawls at Mick’s feet. Next to him, Rusty gets back up, groans.

  ‘If I hear you’ve been talking about what happened up the mountain or what just happened here, I’ll come back. And next time, there’ll be more of us. Got it?’

  Mick doesn’t answer. His silence is more menacing than a spray of abuse. Wonderful. As well as the Rephaim and fiery-eyed demons, I’ve now got the Imperial boys to count as a threat.

  I watch Mick in pain, Rusty limping out of the way, a fine spatter of blood on the ground. God, what am I doing? Is this who I am now? I’ve heard so many versions of who I’m meant to be, they’re all starting to seep together: the fearless Gabe that Rafa remembers; the Gabe who didn’t talk to Jude for a decade, who refused to go when he left the Sanctuary, who hooked up with Daniel of all people; the Gaby who came here on a bus nine months ago, made friends with Maggie, got a job at the library.

  Which one am I?

  And what sort of chaos have I brought to Pan Beach?

  Rafa kicks the gate and the screws holding the latch to the timber give way. It swings open and we step out onto the street. Rafa knocks it shut behind us.

  ‘Now,’ he says as he sets off towards the esplanade, ‘was that so hard?’

  HOT AND COLD

  I make it a block before I trust myself to speak.

  ‘That was always going to end in a brawl.’

  Rafa glances at me as we walk. His hair looks fairer out here in the sunlight. Right now I’d like to run my fingers through it, get a good handful, and smack his head into the brick wall we’re passing.

  ‘I’m not the one who started it,’ he says.

  ‘Please. You’ve been wound up for days.’

  His lips twitch. ‘You have no idea.’

  I ignore the heat climbing my neck. Above us, the morning sky is cloudless, the sun getting warmer.

  ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that,’ I say.

  ‘What—dancing around with those arse clowns while you stood and watched?’ He looks at me. ‘You think that’s my idea of fun? You should have jumped straight in.’

  He’s not quite so playful now.

  ‘When a fight breaks out, Rafa, my first instinct isn’t to jump in.’

  ‘Well, it should be.’

  ‘Why?’

  He blocks my path, forcing me to stop. ‘You’re kidding, right?’ He’s only half a head taller than me, but it’s enough to give him an advantage when he wants to stare me down. ‘Do you want to find Jude or not?’

  My chest tightens. I don’t answer. I shouldn’t need to.

  ‘I’m serious,’ he says. ‘We’ve got the Sanctuary breathing down our necks, demons gunning for us and god knows what else between us and Jude. You need to know what you’re capable of and you can only do that if you break a sweat.’

  ‘I thought you were going to train me.’

  ‘Nothing beats the real thing.’

  ‘So that was for my benefit?’

  ‘Trying to keep this shit out of Pan Beach is for your benefit. You know I’d rather be somewhere else. I’m ready to leave right now, just say the word.’

  ‘It’s not that simple.’

  ‘It is, and you know it. We could be in Melbourne and back by lunchtime. I don’t know why you’re dragging your feet.’

  He watches me and I hope he can’t read me as well as he thinks he can. I don’t want to explain this uncertainty—I’m not sure I could, even if I wanted to. His eyes flicker in frustration and anger.

  ‘We have to wait for Taya and Malachi,’ I say.

  He’s more than over that excuse. ‘Shit, Gabe, Nathaniel’s not sending them to help, he’s sending them to spy on us.’

  ‘I realise that.’ I’m yet to convince the fallen angel who found and raised the Rephaim—and built them into an army—that I don’t know where the rest of the Fallen are. That I don’t know what Jude and I did a year ago that left me broken and bloodied. That maybe killed Jude.

  ‘Then let’s go before they get here.’

  I look past him to the esplanade. It’s not as if I have a burning desire to see Nathaniel’s head-kickers again. The first time I met Taya she threw me into a tree and broke my ribs. Then Malachi tried to drown me in a bathtub, on Nathaniel and Daniel’s orders. As if a near-death experience was going to jump-start memories from my old life. And they wonder why I’m not racing to move back int
o Rephaim headquarters in Italy. There’s a reason Jude, Rafa, Ez, Zak and nineteen other Rephaim left the so-called Sanctuary a decade ago and became Outcasts. There’s also a reason I didn’t go with them. I just wish I knew what it was.

  ‘And what do you think Taya and Malachi will do when they can’t find me?’ I say. ‘They’ll scoop up Mags again and we’re back where we started—or worse—because next time they will take her to the Sanctuary.’

  ‘How does that change if we wait for them?’

  I press my lips together.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  He watches me for a few seconds. I look away.

  ‘This is about Goldilocks, isn’t it?’

  I watch a line of bull ants scurry over the concrete wall behind him. ‘No.’

  ‘Bullshit. You and Maggie didn’t bat an eyelid about him being out half the night. He’s doing more than running around after the missing kid with the visions. What else is going on?’

  I sigh. ‘He’s trying to help.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘He thinks there might be a way to protect Mags from being forced to shift by Rephaim.’

  Rafa stares at me. ‘Don’t you think I’d know about it if there was?’

  ‘You didn’t know about Jason.’

  He turns away.

  ‘His life has been different to yours—it stands to reason he might know different things. You keep saying Nathaniel doesn’t know everything.’

  ‘But Goldilocks does?’

  ‘Rafa—’

  ‘Does he think his seer is going to know?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Who else then?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  He shakes his head. ‘I told you there’d be more. He knows too much about the Rephaim for someone who’s never been to the Sanctuary.’

  The last time Rafa shared that suspicion, I was half-undressed on his bed. For a second I remember the feel of his lips on my skin, my hands in his hair. The need to touch as much of him as possible…I cut short the memory before it robs me of focus. Right now all I feel is Rafa’s impatience. His distrust of Jason. His hurt that Jude and I met Jason a hundred years ago and allowed him to stay hidden from the Sanctuary and everyone there. Including Rafa. But like everything else about my past, I don’t remember it and I can’t undo it. In the sunlight, I think I can see how heavy the last year has been on Rafa. Believing Jude was dead. Believing I was dead. I forget sometimes that he’s had his own grief to carry. My own frustration fades a little.

  ‘Maybe Jason will talk to you if you stop jumping down his throat every time he opens his mouth.’

  ‘When were you going to let me in on this plan of his?’

  ‘When I knew if he could help or not.’

  The muscle in his jaw twitches. ‘Just once, I’d like you to trust me enough to tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘Rafa, this wasn’t about trust. It was about giving Jason time before you started picking him apart again.’

  ‘What does he think he’s going to find?’

  ‘I don’t know, but isn’t it worth a few more hours to find out?’

  ‘We need to be looking for Jude, Gabe. It’s only a matter of time before someone else twigs that if you’re alive when you’re not meant to be, he might be too.’ He shakes his head. ‘Some days I really wish you remembered all this shit.’

  I don’t answer because I know full well that most days he’s glad I don’t.

  Rafa sets off again. We don’t speak while we cross the road, stopping halfway to wait for an old jeep to pass us.

  ‘Look, I need a bit longer. For Mags. That’s all I’m asking. Jason will watch out for her if we’re not here, I know that. But if there’s something else we can do to protect her from Taya and Malachi, I want to try.’

  He turns to me as we walk, lets his breath out. ‘A couple more hours. That’s it.’

  I nod. It’s not much of a concession, but I’ll take what I can get. We’re on the esplanade now. ‘Green Bean?’ I ask, realising that’s where we’ve been heading.

  He shrugs. His sleeve is torn and his arm is still bleeding.

  ‘Bryce won’t be impressed if you go in looking like that,’ I say. ‘Let’s go home first, tidy it up.’

  Rafa lifts his arm to get a better look. ‘A quick shift will fix it.’

  ‘With who, Zak?’ My stomach does a small flip. Like it does every time Rafa says he’s leaving Pan Beach. If he’d taught me to shift, I could heal him. But it’s another one of those things he keeps mentioning but does nothing about.

  ‘How long will you be?’

  He looks away.

  Rafa has been to Mexico to see Ez and Zak three times already in the last two days. Most times he’s only gone an hour or so. Most times I don’t provoke him this much before he leaves.

  ‘Maybe they could come here,’ I say. I miss Ez. She’s always so calm and sensible—and she’s the only Rephaite who’s given me straight answers this past week.

  ‘And do what? Hang out at my place?’ Rafa stops in front of the alley between the bookshop and the juice bar. He gives me a once-over and steps closer. ‘Turn around.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’ve got dirt on you.’

  Of course I do—I was lying on the concrete at the Imperial not so long ago.

  Rafa holds my shoulder to keep me steady while he dusts me off. ‘All good.’ His hand slides down my arm, falls away. He walks into the laneway. I’m ready for him to shift, for the lane to become empty, but he hesitates.

  ‘What?’ I ask.

  His eyes search my face. A few seconds pass. ‘Nothing.’

  And then he’s gone.

  It’s only when I’m nearly at the Green Bean that it hits me. He was waiting for me to ask him to stay.

  TEA…NO SYMPATHY

  Maggie is busy inside when I arrive. I order a coffee and find a chair in the sun, overlooking the water. Let the familiarity of Pandanus Beach ground me: the busy esplanade, the endless ocean, the lush mountain rising up behind the town. Even after everything that’s happened here, it’s still the closest thing I have to a home.

  The surf is rough this morning. Only a few diehards brave the water. A guy in a yellow and black wetsuit climbs a wave, then wipes out spectacularly. His board flips in the air, trailing sunlit water, and disappears back into the surf. He emerges in the wash, laughing, unscathed.

  I chase thoughts of Jude. Again. Tomorrow is the anniversary of his death. Or at least the death I remember. The moment that changed everything: squealing tyres, smashing glass, the car crumpling around us. Blood. Dirt. Petrol. I’ve known for a week it never happened. So why does it still feel so real?

  Of course I want to know if Jude’s alive. Of course I want to find him. How could I not? But Rafa talks about it as though it’s some easy two-step process: search for Jude, find Jude. But what if we don’t find him? What then? Or what if—

  ‘You’re going to get premature wrinkles if you don’t stop that.’ Maggie is at the table with my cappuccino, squinting against the sun. ‘I take it Mick wasn’t in the mood for talking?’

  I dig my fingers into my shoulder, try to make the muscle relax. ‘Oh, Mick was talking. Rafa just didn’t like what he heard.’

  She moves to block out the sun. ‘How bad?’

  ‘Stitches and plaster. Not for Rafa, obviously.’

  Maggie glances back at the cafe and slips into the chair opposite me. ‘Do you think they got the message?’

  ‘They think the hellions are part of a government conspiracy.’

  ‘Who told them that?’

  ‘I sort of let them believe it.’

  Maggie’s eyes drop to my knuckles, which are still red, but she doesn’t say anything. ‘Simon was in earlier.’ She changes the subject.

  ‘How’s he doing?’

  ‘Better.’

  I’ve seen Simon since Tuesday night. Since he saw the freakshow up the mountain and accused me o
f putting Maggie in harm’s way. Since he found out I’m the bastard offspring of a fallen angel. Since he learned enough to regret kissing me the night Maggie was taken. And since I learned how crappy it feels to kiss a nice guy when you don’t really mean it. I’ve seen Simon—but I haven’t spoken to him. It’s not my fault he won’t make eye contact when I go into Rick’s Bar.

  Maggie studies me. ‘What else is going on?’

  A week ago, she wouldn’t have pushed me. A lot can happen in a week.

  I sigh, sip my coffee. It’s strong and earthy. ‘I had to tell Rafa what Jason’s trying to do.’

  ‘Oh…How did he take it?’

  ‘He was cool.’

  Maggie blinks.

  ‘Not.’ I dab at cocoa on the rim of the cup. ‘He’s impatient to go to Melbourne.’

  ‘Why do you have to go south at all? Can’t you call the hospital and ask if anyone remembers you?’ She gets up and stacks the empty plates on the next table.

  ‘If we can find the nurse who told me Jude was dead, she might know something that will help Rafa work out who changed my memories…Maybe give us a lead on what happened to Jude. It’s not really a phone conversation.’

  Maggie cradles her plates. ‘When are you going?’

  ‘Not until Jason gets back. Hopefully he’ll find what he’s looking for today.’

  She readjusts the stack in her arms. ‘You don’t have to wait. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Yeah, Mags, after shadowing you for the past two days I’m just going to leave you here alone.’

  ‘Do you really think Taya or Malachi will try something?’

  ‘I don’t know but I’d rather have Jason here, especially if he’s armed with something that means you can’t be forced to shift.’

  Maggie presses her lips together; I know how much she hates blink-of-an-eye travel with the Rephaim.

  ‘Taya won’t hurt you—she wouldn’t be game—but I don’t trust her not to take you for leverage again. Or fun. No way are we making it easy for her. Plus’—I give her a meaningful look—‘Jason made me promise we wouldn’t leave until he’s back in Pan Beach.’

  ‘He still feels guilty about lying to me.’

  ‘You know it’s more than that.’