Haze

by Paula Weston

  Jude needs to process all this but we don’t have time. Bel could check the cottage every hour for all we know, in the hope of finding Rafa and me here. I don’t want Jude to face a demon today. Or ever. ‘Right,’ I say, ‘let’s go.’

  ‘Where?’ Rafa holds the sword bundle in one hand.

  ‘Your place in Pan Beach.’

  He takes a slow breath. ‘We’ve got safe houses all over the world, Gaby. You can ring Maggie—’

  ‘I don’t want to hide out in one of Mya’s Third World hovels.’

  ‘What does it matter? We’ve got Jude. Let’s go somewhere safe.’

  I zip the duffel bag. ‘Pan Beach is my home. I know that doesn’t mean anything to you, but it does to me.’

  ‘I’m well aware of how attached you are to that place, but every man and his dog knows that’s where you’ll be. And once word gets out Jude’s there, what do you think will happen? It won’t be too hard for Bel or—’

  ‘Hey.’

  We stop, look at Jude.

  ‘If Gaby wants to go to Pandanus Beach, that’s good enough for me. We can decide on a longer term plan from there.’

  Rafa’s nostrils flare. ‘You two—’ He doesn’t finish, shakes his head. ‘Fine.’

  I narrow my eyes. ‘You’re not going to take us somewhere else are you? Or leave me here?’

  ‘Seriously? You still have to ask me that?’

  ‘Sorry.’ And I am. ‘I’m a little uptight right now.’

  ‘No shit.’

  Jude closes the wardrobe loudly. ‘Whatever this is’—he points to Rafa and me—‘I assume you can continue it where we’re going?’

  I swear I see heat in Rafa’s neck.

  ‘Good. Can you take me back to Hobart first?’

  I change my grip on the weapons bag. It’s heavier than I expected. ‘Why?’

  ‘To grab my stuff.’ He looks to Rafa. ‘I’d be right in assuming I won’t be going back there again?’

  Rafa gives me a triumphant look. ‘See? Jude gets it.’

  I text Maggie while Rafa checks maps on his phone. She and Jason are at the hotel in Melbourne. I suggest they stay there, make the most of the room. Stay safe.

  Jude waits, pensive.

  ‘Man up,’ Rafa says. ‘You used to do this drunk.’

  Jude presses his lips together. ‘Screw it. Let’s go.’

  It’s not a gentle arrival.

  The floor slams under us so hard I pitch forward. Rafa breaks my fall, his arms locked around me. I lose contact with Jude. He hits somewhere behind me with a dull thud.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ he mutters.

  My legs are tangled with Rafa’s. He’s cradling my head.

  ‘You all right?’ he asks. He runs a hand down my side. My head swims with sandalwood and cinnamon. And musty carpet.

  ‘Uh huh.’ I climb off him, not trusting myself to make eye contact. We’re in a tiny room with only a desk and an old vinyl kitchen chair. If I stretched out my hands I could almost touch the white stucco walls either side of me. Beyond the thick glass pane is a sweep of hills and the choppy river.

  Jude is against the desk, recovering. It’s cluttered with books and newspapers, a large nautical map. ‘You always land that rough?’

  ‘Not if I get decent directions.’ Rafa sits up. ‘The correct height of this hill would have been handy.’

  ‘I thought you said you were good at this.’

  ‘I thought you had a higher pain threshold.’ He grins as Jude helps him off the floor.

  Jude shakes his head. A small smile. ‘You shouldn’t have talked yourself up so much.’

  God, they’re already so easy with each other.

  ‘Is this your place?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s a mate’s. I stay here whenever I’m not on the water.’

  On the desk, the newspapers are open to the crossword page. Every puzzle filled in. My eyes skim the spines of the novels: Cormac McCarthy, George R. R. Martin, Ursula Le Guin. T-shirts, jumpers and jeans, all neatly folded.

  Jude grabs a few things and I follow him down a short hallway and into a room at the end, with a bar crammed with spirits, an old-fashioned gas heater and a tartan couch.

  ‘My bed,’ he says, gesturing to the threadbare couch. ‘Don’t look like that—it folds out. I’ve slept on worse.’

  I run my fingertips over the pilled fabric. ‘Remember Peru?’

  ‘In the cave with the llamas?’

  ‘You slept with that ridiculous hat on. The one with the tassels and ear flaps.’

  He grabs a backpack from behind the bar and puts clean clothes into it. ‘It’s called a chullo. And it was the warmest thing I had after you pinched the blanket.’

  ‘I won that fair and square. Remember?’

  The last word hangs in the air. His smile falters. All the warmth leaches out of the moment. We never slept in a cave with llamas—or maybe we did, but not in the way we remember.

  ‘You already packed?’ Rafa asks from the doorway.

  Jude tests the straps on his pack. ‘Yeah, I always have a bag ready to go.’

  ‘So why did you stay here so long?’

  A shrug. ‘I couldn’t bring myself to leave Australia.’ He ties a pair of combat boots to the pack. ‘Ready.’

  A few seconds later, he’s recovering again, this time over Rafa’s sink. I text Maggie to tell her where we are.

  By the time I’m done, Jude and Rafa are at the table, beers in hand. I say no when Rafa offers me one. The afternoon sun is behind the shopping centre, casting half the kitchen in shadow. I find a patch of filtered sunlight near the bench and let the warmth seep into my bones.

  ‘My place is nicer,’ I say to Jude.

  He’s already feeling the change in temperature and strips down to a black t-shirt. He’s more ripped than I remember.

  ‘So, seriously, are we safe here?’ I ask Rafa, peeling off my hoodie.

  He gives me a pointed look. ‘I doubt it. That’s why I didn’t want to come back to Pan Beach.’

  ‘I mean are we safe here, in this shack. From Gate-keepers. We never finished that conversation.’

  He shrugs. ‘Depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘How far the hell-turds tracked us on Tuesday.’

  My eyes flick to Jude, make sure he’s still here. Still real.

  ‘How’s that work?’

  Rafa sips his beer. ‘Hellions are bonded to the Gatekeepers. The hell-turds get the scent, the demons read what they’re thinking and pick up a location.’

  ‘How far away can hellions track Rephaim?’

  ‘If they’ve had our blood? Generally anywhere on the planet—at least for a couple of days, or as long as they keep the taste.’ He puts his bottle down. ‘Same goes for hellion blood if it’s fresh; if we’re covered in enough of it, they’ll find us. Or at least get a general idea of where we are. You had enough on you after the cage for them to track us to Patmos, but Bel was pretty vague about what he found when they got here. He’s a smug prick; he would have rubbed it in if he’d found your place or this one. I think they followed us to Pan Beach but then lost the scent.’

  My skin crawls. But Bel would have been here waiting for us if he knew about this place…

  ‘We’re not going to be anywhere near safe until we get the demons out of that farmhouse,’ I say.

  ‘Agreed. But it’s going to take more than our crew to do it. And no way am I asking Pretty Boy and the Five for help. They can come to us.’

  ‘Isn’t this a bit more important than a pissing contest?’

  His eyebrows go up. ‘You want to see a pissing contest? Wait until Daniel and Mya turn up here to fight over Jude.’

  Shit. Mya.

  ‘Does she have to know?’

  ‘Think about it. Malachi’s told Daniel about Jude by now and if Mya finds out you kept her in the dark, she’ll think you’ve sided with the Sanctuary.’

  ‘She can think what she likes. For fuck’s sake, I just got my brother back.’


  Jude tears a neat strip off his beer label, pastes it on the table. ‘Rafa,’ he says quietly. ‘Any chance Gaby and I could have some time to ourselves?’

  ‘I’m not leaving you unprotected.’

  ‘How about some privacy then?’

  Rafa looks from Jude to me, his expression unreadable. Then he stands up, points down the hallway. ‘I’ll be in my room. Yell if anyone turns up.’

  Jude waits until Rafa’s door closes.

  ‘Do you trust him?’

  I glance down the empty hallway. ‘Yeah, I do. Mostly.’ Now’s not the time to tell Jude all the things I don’t know about what happened between Rafa and me in the past.

  I pull out the photos I took from the iron room, the ones of him and Rafa. I don’t attempt to explain how I got them. ‘And so did you.’

  He studies each picture. ‘This is mental, right?’

  I nod and my throat closes over again. I watch him frowning while he thinks, his unruly hair in his eyes. My brother. Alive. Here, with me. And then he comes around the table, pulls me into another hug. He still smells salty. I bury my face in his neck; his stubble is rough against my cheek.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers, his voice thick.

  ‘Me too.’

  We breathe together. In. Out. In. Out. We’ve never been huggers; we are now.

  He lets out a deep sigh. ‘You’re alive. That’s all that matters.’

  ‘But Jude…’ My words are muffled and he pulls back to look at me. ‘What we remember…none of it’s real. Not Peru, not Italy, not school. Not our parents.’

  He frowns again, lets me go.

  ‘What do you remember?’ I ask.

  We sit on the edge of the table. He stares out the window for a moment, and then he tells me: fighting with our parents; running off backpacking without telling them; the race up the hill at Monterosso; camping in Peru; bungee jumping in Switzerland; getting jobs in London; the crash. Our stories aren’t similar—they are exactly the same. Exactly. Neither of us has a memory the other doesn’t.

  ‘We went to Italy after Switzerland, right?’ he asks me. ‘Do you remember how we got there—train, bus, car?’

  ‘No, I’ve got lots of gaps from that trip. Anything before the accident is hazy.’

  ‘But we’ve both got the same gaps. I guess whoever did this didn’t think we’d ever have the chance to compare memories,’ Jude says. ‘But why? I don’t understand why someone would make us think we’re different people, make us believe we lost each other. What does it achieve?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I pause. ‘But Rafa thinks you might have been involved somehow.’

  ‘Based on what?’

  ‘On the fact we still know we’re twins; that the way I remember you is apparently not that different to who you used to be—minus the half-angel bit. And the fact I know the words to every Foo Fighters song ever written.’

  ‘You hate Foo Fighters.’

  ‘Yep, especially at six o’clock in the morning. And now I don’t.’

  ‘That’s bizarre.’ A crooked smile. ‘And kind of cool.’

  ‘And I’ve been dreaming about that nightclub massacre, which turns out to be your memory, not mine.’

  ‘But why would I do that? How could I do that?’

  Now’s not the time to tell him we probably did a deal with demons—and it nearly got us killed. He can come to that conclusion on his own.

  ‘So, how did you find me?’ Jude asks, shaking off the too-hard questions.

  I tell him about Melbourne. And Mandy.

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘Okay, I guess. Still hung up on you.’

  ‘She’s only human.’ Jude’s smile is ironic until he realises what he’s just said. I prod him before he can get too lost in that train of thought.

  ‘I can’t believe you were in an actual relationship.’

  ‘I thought it would help, but she wanted more than I could give her. The usual drama, really, it just took a little longer.’

  I don’t remember Jude being this open with me. We never talked about relationship stuff, or not that I remember anyway. He crosses to the window, listens to the surf.

  ‘I’ve missed that sound. I thought about coming here when I was in hospital, but then I hooked up with Mandy and we went to Tassie—’

  ‘You were still coming to Pan Beach?’

  ‘Yeah, but it felt wrong. If I hadn’t been pushing so hard about coming here, I wouldn’t have run off the road.’

  I close my eyes for a second, hear squealing tyres.

  ‘Actually, you were thinking about coming to Pan Beach…before,’ I say. ‘You’d bookmarked surfing websites on your laptop. One of them was for here.’

  Jude comes back to the table. ‘It doesn’t matter. What’s on that laptop, what happened before, the memories, none of it.’

  ‘How can you say that?’

  ‘Because you’re my sister. End of story.’

  ‘We didn’t speak for ten years, Jude. The past—’ I pause. ‘It’s complicated and messy and it’s not going to go away.’

  ‘We’ll figure it out.’

  I stare past him at a black mark on the window and the way it blocks a fraction of the sun. ‘I can’t lose you again.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen. Ever.’

  ‘I don’t want to remember my old life if it’s going to tear us apart again.’

  ‘Gaby.’ He waits until I look at him. ‘I don’t care what happened. Nothing is going to tear us apart.’ He pulls out a chair. ‘All I want now is to keep you safe.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s an option any more.’

  ‘Why not? We could go to one of those beaches, disappear.’ He meets my eyes. ‘Get on with our lives without all this other shit hanging over our heads.’

  We watch each other. The possibility hangs between us.

  ‘Fucking unbelievable.’

  We look up to find Rafa standing in the hallway, his eyes dark, flinty.

  Accusing.

  CAN YOU HANDLE THE TRUTH?

  ‘You could walk away from us—just like that?’ Rafa is gripping his beer bottle so tightly his knuckles are white. He must have shifted to the hallway because we didn’t hear him coming.

  Jude opens his mouth. Closes it again.

  ‘You’re our fucking leader. Everything went to shit when you disappeared. And now you’re back and you’re going to piss off again?’ Rafa’s gaze moves to me. ‘And you’d go with him, wouldn’t you? You two, finally together again, and the rest of us can get fucked.’

  ‘Rafa, ease up,’ I say. ‘He doesn’t remember that life.’

  He shakes his head. ‘I forgot what it’s like when you two are together. Nothing else matters.’

  ‘Mate.’ Jude stands up. ‘We’re not going anywhere.’

  ‘You have no idea, do you? You two lost each other—I lost both of you.’ He hurls the bottle at the wall. It smashes against the tiles over the sink and the place instantly reeks of beer. ‘Screw this.’ He shifts. Two seconds later something hits the wall in his room.

  Jude is still staring at the space where Rafa was just standing.

  ‘I’ll go,’ I say.

  ‘I don’t think he’s in the mood for talking.’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  He studies me. ‘What’s the story with you two?’

  I pick at the hem of my t-shirt. ‘It’s complicated.’

  Rafa is sitting on the edge of his bed, knees on elbows, head down. The chair is on its side, one steel leg folded back at the wrong angle. There’s a hole in the flaking wall above it, plaster dust on the floor. Putting furniture through walls is starting to become a habit.

  ‘Rafa.’ I sit next to him on the grey-and-white-striped doona. Sunlight falls through the window onto his pillow.

  He doesn’t lift his head. I’m close enough to touch him. I don’t. From the kitchen comes sounds of clinking glass and running water.

  ‘Jude’s not going anywhere,�
� I say.

  He doesn’t react. I hate it when he’s this quiet; it’s unnerving.

  ‘And neither am I. Not without you.’

  He turns his head towards me, but doesn’t look at me. ‘Yeah? Why not?’

  ‘Because I don’t want to.’

  ‘You could’ve fooled me.’

  ‘Rafa—’

  ‘You’re hot then you’re cold. You trust me, then you don’t. You let me get close, then you shut me down. You’ve got Jude now, you don’t need me.’

  ‘I do.’ I say it quietly because the words are hard. ‘I do need you.’

  He stares past me for a few seconds, breathing quietly. ‘Why?’

  ‘Do you have to ask?’

  When he looks at me, his eyes are clouded. ‘Gaby…’

  I tuck my hands between my knees and wait. Give him space.

  Finally Rafa frowns and exhales. ‘Jude’s right. The safest thing would be for you both to disappear again. Cut contact with all of us.’

  ‘We’re not doing that, and you know it.’ He doesn’t speak again so I lean closer, lower my voice. ‘I know things are messy with us, but do you really think I could just walk away from you?’

  This time he doesn’t look away. ‘Do you really think I’d let you?’

  We watch each other for a few long seconds.

  ‘We really suck at this, don’t we?’ he says.

  ‘You don’t see Mags and Jason yelling at each other in a deserted park in the middle of the night.’

  ‘Only one of us was yelling.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I didn’t expect to suddenly find myself alone.’

  ‘Did the swan scare you?’ A smile plays on his lips.

  ‘Shut up.’ I say it softly.

  He’s still watching me, his green eyes looking for something. ‘Gaby…I’m not going to talk about the past any more, okay? Whatever this is, it starts now.’

  Whatever this is.

  I take in his long lashes, the strong lines of his face. Everything about him is so familiar now.

  ‘That’s okay for now, Rafa. But it’s not going away. We’ll have to deal with it some time. Can you live with that?’

  He hesitates, and then his lips brush mine, tentative. I kiss him back—firmly, purposefully—take a handful of his t-shirt to keep him close. He murmurs his approval and draws my legs across his lap. This kiss is longer, lingering. His hand strays to my thigh. I touch his face, trace his jaw with my thumb. When we break apart, Rafa rests his forehead on mine. ‘God, I want you,’ he whispers.