Haze

by Paula Weston

  ‘If Rafa doesn’t know what Jude was doing, nobody will,’ Taya says.

  ‘What else am I going to do? Wait here until Nathaniel comes up with another plan to torture me?’

  She turns away. I want to grab her, shake her. Why can’t she get this?

  ‘I am so over being pushed around by you people,’ I say. ‘All of you. I’ve been to the Sanctuary and I’m in no hurry to go there again—’

  ‘You can’t judge us by that.’

  ‘—so I’m going to find out more about Jude. And then I’m coming back, so don’t turn this into an excuse to make me public enemy number one again.’

  Taya tests her swollen eye, looks back at the street where a group of girls are huddled together, lighting cigarettes near the ambulance.

  ‘You think I betrayed everyone,’ I say. ‘But you don’t know, not for sure. What if you’re wrong?’

  ‘What if I’m right?’

  ‘But what if you’re not?’

  She fidgets, steps back. Behind her, someone is being lifted into the ambulance.

  ‘You owe me,’ I say.

  She looks away.

  ‘You threw me to a hellion. I saved you from one.’

  No response.

  ‘Give me a day.’

  Taya finally meets my gaze. ‘You screw me on this—’

  ‘I won’t. And you have to lay off Maggie. I mean it.’

  She breathes out. ‘I’m not going to touch your precious Maggie.’ She looks past me, chews on her lip. ‘You’ve got twelve hours.’

  I have no idea if that’s long enough.

  It’s going to have to be.

  HOT AND BOTHERED

  It’s warm in the ‘sandbox’. Not quite Pan-Beach-in-the-height-of-summer hot, but enough to raise a sweat almost immediately.

  ‘Okay, where are we?’

  Rafa watched me pack but wouldn’t say where we were going. He wouldn’t say much about anything. Now we’ve arrived in a tiny room with a dirty window and unmade bunk beds jammed against the walls. Stiff towels hang from racks nailed above the upper bunks. The place stinks of fried tomato and body odour. Wherever we are, it’s the middle of the day.

  ‘Rafa?’

  He ignores me.

  The floor is covered in a layer of newspaper. Rafa steps around a gas burner with a blackened pan on top. A cheap air conditioner sits over the doorway, not running. It’s stifling in here. Rafa opens the door and we’re greeted by a blast of warm air. The view stops me in my tracks.

  We’re on the balcony of an apartment block, overlooking rows of crumbling buildings peppered with satellite dishes and washing lines. Beyond them is a forest of gleaming skyscrapers, stretched out in either direction. The world’s tallest building rises from the middle of them.

  Dubai.

  ‘Is this a labour camp?’

  ‘Yep.’

  I have a vague memory of being in this city with Jude, but it was further along the coast at a resort in the shadow of the Burj Al Arab. And, of course, that memory’s not real.

  ‘Why?’

  Rafa leans on the balcony railing, between threadbare t-shirts drying in the warm air. For a second I think he’s not going to answer, then he says, ‘Jude had a thing for the disenfranchised.’

  ‘But…’ I look around at the buildings, which are only a few years old but already sandblasted. The place is unnaturally quiet, the migrant workers long gone to their building sites for the day. ‘I thought only men lived in these camps?’

  ‘Would you look for us here?’

  I get a flash of the Sanctuary. Aside from the blood spatter in the gymnasium, it had looked comfortable. Luxurious almost. Nothing like this.

  Rafa walks along the balcony to the stairs, his weapons pack on his back. I shrug my duffel bag higher on my shoulder and follow him down two flights, into the bright daylight. Washing flaps above us along the balcony rail, but otherwise the place is a ghost town. I fall into step beside him. Feel strangely disconnected to the barren landscape around me.

  ‘You guys live here?’

  ‘It’s a rendezvous point.’

  ‘You don’t have a base? A home?’

  The idea unsettles me. I always felt slightly adrift when Jude and I were backpacking. We had each other, but there was never a sense of permanence about our lives. Was that based on something real as well?

  ‘Jude and I had the place on Patmos.’ Rafa won’t look at me when he speaks.

  We pass a set of battered cricket stumps jammed into the dirt. Rafa rips one out, flings it ahead of us. It hits the concrete path, bounces twice and rolls to a stop.

  ‘This is so fucked up.’

  ‘Rafa—’

  ‘No, don’t.’ The anger in his eyes brings me to a standstill. ‘I shouldn’t have brought you here. It’s just wasting more time.’ He walks a few steps, comes back. ‘Explain to me what we’re doing.’

  ‘What we have to do to get Jude’s laptop.’

  ‘Bullshit. You’re stalling.’

  I hold his gaze, my breath shortening. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘We should have been gone days ago looking for Jude.’

  ‘I needed Mags to be safer—’

  ‘And now she is and you find another reason not to go to Melbourne. Fuck, Gabe, when are you going to stop punishing me?’ His eyes have changed. Only a few hours ago they flared with wanting. There’s no sign of that now. He hasn’t looked at me like this for a week, not since he thought I was lying about what I remembered. It was bad enough then. Now, after everything we’ve been through, it’s worse. Way worse. The night gets back inside me a bit, hollows me out.

  ‘What are you talking about? Punishing you for what?’ ‘For everything. That’s what you do. That’s what you’ve done for the last ten years—’

  ‘Rafa, that’s not fair.’

  He stares at me, unflinching. ‘Do you have any idea what a mess I’ve been, thinking Jude’s dead? He could be out there alive somewhere, and you’re finding every excuse not to look for him. For fuck’s sake, he’s your brother—what’s the problem?’

  I close my eyes for a second and see Jude’s face before he jumped from the cable car, lit up, full of life.

  The problem is that I love the brother I remember. I miss that Jude so much I ache. But the Jude we’re going to look for, Rafa’s best mate…that’s not him. My stomach folds in on itself. How can I explain that to Rafa?

  I meet his gaze again. Force myself to not look away.

  ‘I thought these people were your friends.’

  He scowls at my avoidance. ‘They are.’

  ‘Then what’s wrong with being with them for a few hours?’

  ‘It’s not getting us any closer to finding Jude.’

  But it might get me closer to the Jude Rafa knows.

  ‘It’s more than that,’ I say.

  ‘Don’t make this about me.’

  ‘Why don’t you want me here?’

  His lips harden. ‘Because it’s wrong, that’s why.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It just is.’

  ‘Let me guess: I’d understand if I remembered my other life?’

  ‘No, Gaby. Like Taya said, you wouldn’t be here if you remembered your other life.’

  He cracks a knuckle and sets off again. I follow, but my steps aren’t as grounded as they need to be. It hits me then: I’m about to face the Outcasts. Rephaite soldiers who think I chose the Sanctuary over them. Who’ve hated me for the past ten years. Who loved Jude.

  We cross the road to a path flanked by single-storey flats. There’s no clutter, no washing strung between these buildings. We’re halfway along when I hear ringing steel. I tilt my head towards the building on my left. ‘That’s training I can hear, right? Not a demon ambush?’

  Rafa swings the weapons bag around and offers me the same sword Zak gave me back in Pan Beach the night we went up the mountain. I take the katana, wrap my fingers around its familiar hilt. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t offer any reassu
rance.

  Rafa stays in front as we walk past dirty windows with drawn blinds. The air conditioners in the building are on and the metal boxes hum above every doorway we pass, dripping water. At the fifth door, Rafa rests his fingers on the handle. The fighting is on the other side but I can’t work out how that’s possible given the room we came from was barely big enough to swing a sword in. I slide my katana out of its cover and wait. My palms are sweaty.

  Rafa pauses, as if he’s going to say something, but then the door is yanked open. I duck sideways, slamming into the wall. Rafa doesn’t flinch.

  ‘Sloppy, Rafa.’ Zak fills the doorway—in every direction. ‘A dead hellion would have felt you arrive. Where’d you come in, two doors down?’

  Rafa resheaths his katana. ‘Just keeping you on your toes.’ He grins at Zak and it’s as if the argument between us didn’t happened. I catch my breath.

  Zak looks down at me and shakes his head. I’m not sure if he’s surprised I’ve actually shown up or if it feels wrong to him too. He steps back. ‘Come on, before you let all the cool air out.’

  I falter when I see how many Outcasts are here. There must be twenty men and women scattered around the room, sparring with swords or bare fists. My heart gives a panicked thump. God, what am I doing here?

  This part of the building has been completely gutted—no furniture, no light fittings and no walls to separate what were once apartments. Just the air conditioners, bare bulbs overhead and exercise mats on the concrete floor.

  ‘Is this place structurally sound?’

  Rafa’s laugh is brittle. ‘That’s what you’re worried about? The roof falling in?’

  The sparring is frenetic. If I hadn’t seen the Rephaim in a serious fight, I’d think these clashes were the real deal.

  On the far side of the room, Jones holds up a hand in greeting. I’m pretty sure it’s for Rafa so I don’t wave back.

  Ez is training with Mya, blocking sword strikes and occasionally landing a kick. I’ve seen enough of Ez in action to know she’s going easy on her. They trade a few more blows before Mya signals for a break. She knows we’re here but she takes her time acknowledging us, and even then doesn’t act like it’s a big deal.

  But it’s a big deal for everyone else. By the time Mya and Ez walk over to us, the rest of the Outcasts are facing me, tensed, ready. Like I’m the threat. I try to steady my breathing. Fail.

  Rafa still won’t look at me.

  I only saw Ez a few hours ago in Iowa, but already it feels like days. How can these people keep changing time zones so easily? How do they keep track of what day it is? What season it is?

  ‘Welcome to the Outcasts,’ Ez says.

  I resist the urge to point out I’m not actually joining them. It’s possibly not the best time for that bit of news, given the number of weapons in the room.

  ‘Everyone here’s been told what you do and don’t remember,’ she says and gives my sword a meaningful look.

  Shit. I’ve walked in here armed. No wonder they’re so hostile.

  I should hand the sword to Rafa. Instead, I force myself to look each and every one of them in the eye. It’s a genetic melting pot: blonde hair and blue eyes, olive skin and brown hair, redheads, shaved heads, bearded and clean-shaven. Everyone toned and fit. Nobody welcoming.

  Do they blame me for Jude’s death too? Or have I done things over the years to make them despise me the way Rafa despises Daniel? Either way, there’s no love here. Which begs the question: do I really want to go into a fight alongside people who don’t trust me? Who look like they’d be happy to see me get hurt? Especially with Rafa in the mood he’s in.

  ‘Yeah, she can still fight,’ Rafa says, stepping between them and me. ‘So I’d think twice about taking her on. And if you still think it’s a good idea, you’ll have me to deal with as well.’

  There’s a bit of muttering and shuffling, but nobody makes a move. I let my breath out a little.

  ‘Good.’ Rafa keeps his back to me. ‘So, what, nobody’s happy to see me?’

  ‘It’s been so long I forgot what you looked like.’ The comment comes from a tall blond guy at the edge of the group.

  ‘Only if you lost that photo you keep of me in your wallet.’

  ‘Fuck you.’

  ‘Not in this lifetime, Seth.’

  They laugh. And then they’re man-hugging and backslapping. A few seconds later there’s a queue lined up to welcome Rafa home. Ez takes my arm and leads me to the back of the room. It doesn’t stop the glares, but at least I’m not the centre of attention.

  ‘They’ll work out you’re not the enemy—’

  ‘I was the enemy?’

  ‘Not really.’ Ez thinks for a few seconds. ‘After the split, you were critical of everything we did. And in the early days, there were a few emotionally charged run-ins between your crew and ours. You didn’t go easy on any of us.’

  I feel my mouth drop. ‘Did I…Did we…?’

  ‘I was smart enough to stay out of your way.’

  ‘What about Jude?’ I glance down at my katana. Did I attack my brother with a sword? Did he try to hurt me?

  The thought makes my chest ache.

  ‘Never.’ Ez touches my arm. ‘You both managed to avoid it. But you and Rafa…that’s another story.’

  ‘All right.’ Mya claps her hands. ‘Let’s do this.’

  It’s not so much that everyone snaps to attention, but they stop talking and move to where she’s holding a cardboard tube. I drift closer. Rafa comes over to me but refuses to catch my eye. I notice Ez look quickly at him and then me.

  Mya shakes a roll of paper out of the tube and flattens it on the floor. A map of an inner city, maybe. She points to the middle of a grid. ‘A nest of Immundi is running a child sex racket in the basement of this building. We’re going in to kill the pit scum, grab the kids, and round up any humans involved.’

  Rafa leans forward. ‘Tell me that’s not LA.’ His face hardens. ‘Tell me that’s not the Rhythm Palace.’ A murmur spreads through the group.

  ‘It’s called the Angels’ Den these days. I assume it’s meant to be ironic—’

  ‘Are you fucking insane? The last time we were there, thirteen humans were torn apart—’

  ‘And we saved twenty-three girls.’

  ‘It was a massacre, Mya. It was a disaster from start to finish and if Jude and I hadn’t turned up when we did, we would have lost Rephaim as well as humans.’

  Mya stands, and the map at her feet rolls up on itself.

  ‘That’s why we’re going in at full strength.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s a paying job, Rafa.’

  ‘I don’t give a shit. You swore to Jude there’d never be another cock-up like that.’

  ‘It won’t be a cock-up. That’s why I want you along.’ A glance in my direction. ‘And she may not be full-strength, but from what I’ve heard she’ll still be useful.’

  I’m trying to follow their argument, but my brain is stuck on Rhythm Palace. Rhythm Palace…

  ‘Crap.’

  ‘What?’ Rafa’s glance is annoyed.

  ‘That’s the nightclub with the hellions.’ The one my short story was based on. The memory of Jude’s that I now somehow have. The bloody nightmare of gutted bodies and decapitated hellions.

  ‘The one and only. The biggest screw-up of our mercenary career.’

  ‘Only because we didn’t know Bel had half a dozen hell-spawn guarding the place,’ Mya says. ‘And Bel’s not involved this time.’

  Rafa is taller than Mya and he’s taking advantage of that now, standing over her. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because I’ve got Jess on the inside and she says Immundi are running the trafficking ring.’

  ‘You think it’s a coincidence they’re in that building?’

  Mya waves away the comment. ‘The place would still reek of demon from the last infestation. You know they love the smell of their own kind.’

  ‘Who’s
Jess?’ I whisper to Ez.

  She answers without taking her eyes off Mya. ‘An undercover detective.’

  I frown. How did an undercover LA cop get involved with the Rephaim?

  ‘How many Immundi?’ Zak asks.

  ‘About a dozen.’

  Someone lets out a low whistle.

  Mya nods. ‘The bottom-feeders are turning up in bigger numbers.’

  There’s more murmuring and I lean in to Ez again. ‘Who are the Immundi?’

  ‘Demons. Lower on the food chain than Gatekeepers, and not as strong. They manipulate humans, drive them to destruction. It’s sport for them and they’re very good at it.’

  Rafa turns to Zak. ‘Did you know about this?’

  ‘No, I did not.’ Zak doesn’t look happy about it. Nobody does.

  ‘Look.’ Mya waits until she has everyone’s attention again. ‘There are kids no older than ten being used and abused and then sold to the highest bidder. You want to walk away from that?’

  Silence.

  ‘I know we have history with that place. That we made mistakes there—but this is our chance to make up for it.’

  Jones picks up the map and speaks over the muttering around the group. ‘How are we going in?’

  Mya lays out her plan. Everyone is slightly less tense by the time she finishes.

  ‘Right. Any questions?’

  I’ve got at least twenty, but I’m not drawing any more attention to myself.

  ‘Good. We’ll move out at midnight, local time. Do what you want until then but stay close.’

  The group drifts apart. Rafa stands with his hands on his hips for a few seconds. Then, without a glance at me, he crosses the room towards the door. For a second I forget to breathe. He wouldn’t leave me here…would he?

  ‘Give him a minute,’ Zak says. ‘Let him blow off steam.’ I nod and then see Mya follow Rafa and close the door behind them. I pretend the sight of her disappearing with him doesn’t burn.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Ez asks me.

  I drag my eyes from the door. ‘Is there any chance this thing in LA is a trap?’

  ‘There’s always that chance, but the risk is no bigger than usual.’

  ‘You don’t seem sold on the idea.’

  ‘I’m as sold as I ever am these days.’ Ez’s smile is tired. I check the door. Still closed.