by Paula Weston
‘Is he any good with a sword?’ Jude asks.
‘Fairly handy.’ I think of how he and Rafa tag-teamed against Bel that first night on the mountain. How easily they fell into a rhythm fighting side by side instead of against each other.
Daisy keeps digging around in the box. ‘There’s also this.’ She holds up a leather-bound notebook.
‘I kept a journal?’ Please tell me I wasn’t naive enough to record deeply personal thoughts and then leave them behind for everyone in the Sanctuary to read.
She snorts a laugh. ‘You weren’t a journal-keeping kind of girl. It’s more a collection of quotes, random facts, a couple of short stories. You liked writing longhand, don’t ask me why.’
A soft leather cover wraps around the notebook, held in place with a long piece of cord. I carefully unwrap it, press open worn pages made from recycled paper. They’re covered in doodles and random lists and sentences in my scratchy handwriting. A catalogue of favourite novels that takes up more pages than I have time to read. A flyer for a production of Much Ado About Nothing in Turin. Postcards for a surrealist exhibition in Prague and a taiko drumming school in Japan. It’s nice to know I was interested in something other than swords and maces.
I keep flicking through, find the first short story. It’s titled ‘Twelve Angry Llamas’ and starts with: ‘I never pack my backpack the same way twice.’
I look up at Daisy. ‘Have you read these?’
She ducks her head and straight red hair falls across her face. ‘Only after you were gone. I thought you were dead—’
‘Did I ever go backpacking?’
‘Of course not. You used to threaten to run away and see the world like a normal person. As if that was ever going to happen.’
Jude and I exchange a long look.
‘Did I know about those stories?’ Jude asks.
Daisy shrugs with one shoulder. ‘You were the only one allowed to read them.’
Footsteps echo in the garage. I freeze and then jam the photo album into the nearest box. I feel exposed, having my old life spread out on the floor. My skin tingles a second before Nathaniel steps into the storeroom. All three of us spring to our feet.
‘Desdemona.’
Daisy winces.
‘I wish to speak to Gabriella and Judah.’
‘Of course.’ She dusts off her jeans.
I raise my eyebrows at her. ‘Desdemona?’
She shrugs. ‘Desdemona, Desi, Daisy…’ She taps a stack of books with her foot. ‘You okay to pack this up?’
I nod and, like that, she’s gone. I slide the notebook behind me. It reminds me of something…The journal from the iron room. Mya has it and we still don’t know what it means.
‘May I?’ Nathaniel gestures to the boxes and the concrete. Without waiting for a response he sits on his heels, spine straight, perfectly balanced. He’s wearing jeans and a pale blue polo-neck jumper.
‘Don’t you have something more important to do?’ I ask.
‘The Five can spare me for a moment. I wanted to see you both.’ He picks up a book and flicks through a few pages. I can’t see the cover. ‘Has seeing these possessions helped either of you with your memory?’
I pause. Did Daisy bring me in here to jog my memory? Was it an order? It might explain why Nathaniel’s not reaming us out about the car-park incident right now: jogging our memories is more important.
‘No, Nathaniel, this hasn’t worked any better than holding my head underwater or putting me in a death match with a hell-beast.’
He ignores the jibe. ‘Have you heard from the lost Rephaite?’
‘He’ll be here.’ At least I hope he will.
Nathaniel’s attention snags on the stuffed dog hanging out the side of the box closest to him. He puts down the book and touches its head almost affectionately.
‘Have you made a decision about the farmhouse?’
His eyes lift to mine. Those icy, flickering eyes. They’re not as unsettling as the Gatekeepers’, but they’re just as hard to read. ‘Virginia has not yet been forthcoming with useful information.’
‘Can’t you read her mind?’
‘No, she is human.’
I think about her reaction to seeing Jude and me outside her window. ‘You must terrify her, given how she feels about the—’ I stop before I refer to him as one of the Fallen. From Daniel’s reaction last week, I’m guessing it’s not a term the Rephaim use around him.
‘Virginia is a strong woman. Stronger than I would expect, given her current circumstances. She continues to withhold information from me.’
Jude leans back against the shelves, rests his forearm across his knee. ‘Like you’ve withheld information from us?’
I catch Jude’s eye, try to gauge where he’s going with this. Nathaniel seems to be weighing up the same thing. ‘In the past, you made demands of me that were unreasonable,’ Nathaniel says.
‘It was unreasonable to ask to speak to an archangel?’
‘You do not summon the Host of Heaven, Judah. Any more than you summon God.’
‘Then how do you contact them?’
He lets out a small sigh and I understand: this is not the first time he’s had this conversation with Jude. ‘That is not your concern. But if you have other questions I will attempt to answer them.’
They watch each other closely. Jude drums his fingers on the concrete. ‘How many archangels are there in the Garrison?’
‘Beyond counting.’
‘Where does Semyaza fit in?’
‘Semyaza was a captain of the Garrison.’
‘And you?’
‘One of the two hundred warriors who served beneath him.’ There’s an ache in those words, echoes of longing and regret.
‘Why did you follow when he and the others fell the first time?’
I flinch at the bluntness of the question.
Nathaniel’s eyes darken. ‘I mistook free will for freedom.’
‘Is that why you didn’t go around again when you all broke out of hell?’
‘Semyaza had not—’ He stops, reconsiders his answer. ‘I severed the bond with Semyaza and my brothers to prove to the Garrison my time imprisoned had not been in vain. That I knew my place, and I was again worthy of their trust.’
‘Do you regret it?’
‘No.’
‘But you’re still an outcast of heaven.’ Jude seems to use the description deliberately.
‘Because I have not yet fulfilled my responsibility to bring my brothers to justice: to deliver them to the Garrison for judgment.’
It’s the first time we’ve heard it direct from Nathaniel.
‘You talked about wards to keep out demons,’ I ask. ‘How do they work?’
Nathaniel hesitates. ‘They are bound by a sacred bond written in my blood.’
I picture ancient sandstone smeared with angelic blood.
‘When the monks agreed to give me shelter here, I pledged my bond in the language of angels on each cornerstone of this sanctuary. That bond was sealed with the brothers’ blessing. The stones absorbed my blood: a sign the sacrifice was accepted. This monastery, the ground below it and the air above it, are sanctified now until the end of time. No demon can enter this place against my will until the final battle between heaven and hell.’
‘Why didn’t you tell the Rephaim about it?’ I ask.
‘I wanted them to be here by choice, of their own free will, not because it was the only place they were safe. Inviolate protection was their reward for faithfulness and loyalty.’
‘Did the Five know?’
‘The Council exists to guide and lead the others, not keep secrets from them. It was never my intention to create two classes of Rephaim—that is why the membership of the Council is fluid.’
‘And yet the Rephaim ended up divided anyway.’
Jude watches the fallen angel with an expression I can’t read. ‘Does that mean blood was used to create the room in Iowa?’ he asks.
‘That
room perplexes me. Gabriella and Rafael could enter it, and were only trapped once it was sealed. Such a thing hints of a blood ward, but one that I am not familiar with.’
‘Bullshit,’ I say.
His eyebrows shoot up—an extreme gesture for him. ‘You question me, Gabriella?’
‘You knew there was a charm protecting Virginia and her daughter from being forced to shift. You told Daniel to look for it.’
‘It was an educated guess.’
‘How could you guess that? You said the wards here involved blood and cornerstones. Why would you automatically think their protection came from iron?’
He places the book he’s been holding in the box with the others. ‘You told me the room was made from iron.’
‘Nathaniel.’
His flickering eyes come back to me. ‘In my library I have an ancient text that lists the gifts of iron. One of those gifts is the ability to absorb and hold wards and blessings.’
‘How does that work?’
A pause. ‘May I look upon the etchings from the room?’
I hand him my phone and he spends a good thirty seconds staring at the shot of the wall, the carved giant wings outstretched corner to corner. Something heavy settles in the pit of my stomach. ‘You know what that is, don’t you?’
‘I have never seen that symbol on an iron wall.’
‘But you’ve seen it before.’
He fixes his attention somewhere just left of me. Doesn’t answer.
‘Rafa and Taya are trapped by that symbol. I don’t care how many secrets you’ve kept for the last hundred and forty years—we need to know what it means.’
He rises without looking at Jude or me, checks the garage, shuts the door. Jude and I stand, glance at each other. I’ve pushed him too far.
Nathaniel turns around, slowly. The calm mask has slipped from his features. He’s uncertain. Uneasy.
‘I have seen this symbol before.’ He studies it again, seems to go somewhere else.
‘Where?’
‘In heaven.’
I stare at him. Forget to breathe.
‘Those symbols were marked in the air to bind us—Semyaza and we Two Hundred—before we were cast out.’
IT’S ALWAYS BLOOD
I open my mouth. Words fail me. I try again.
‘What does that mean?’
Nathaniel blinks, as if remembering Jude and I are there. He hands me my phone and goes to the door. Opens it, closes it again with his back to us. A chill runs through me: he’s rattled. That can’t be good. His jumper is stretched tight across tense shoulders. I have a flash, a memory of giant wings unfurling in front of Bel, of demons cowering before white-blue light. My mind scrambles for traction.
‘So…’ Jude says, ‘those women in Iowa recreated a symbol last seen in heaven?’ He taps his thumb on the metal shelf.
I’m still staring at Nathaniel. Maybe the family really does receive revelation from God. Maybe we half-breeds truly are an abomination and these women have been given a holy mission to find a way to trap us. But then what? Kill us? Hand us over to someone more powerful to exterminate us? I stop those thoughts before they unravel me.
‘Could that room hold you?’ I ask Nathaniel.
He shakes his head. ‘It would take the blood of an archangel. A ward like that could not work in this realm without a blood bond.’
‘What about demons?’
‘Not without angel blood.’
‘Is it possible—’
‘No. A member of the Garrison would never have authority to shed blood on earth unless the Fallen had been found. And there is no need for them to build an earthly prison for the Fallen: the Garrison can create their own whenever and wherever they require. And they do not need a prison for demons: hell already exists.’
Jude’s tapping stops.
‘So the trap most likely only works for Rephaim? Does that mean it would take the blood of a Rephaite to trap a Rephaite?’
Something hums. Nathaniel takes out a phone—of course he has a phone—and checks the screen. He presses his lips together. ‘Thank you Gabriella, Judah,’ he nods to each of us.
‘Hang on—’
But Nathaniel has gone. Shifted.
‘Shit.’ Jude smacks his palm against the wall. ‘I hate when they do that.’
I slump against the shelves. The steel digs into my back. ‘Wait until it happens in the middle of an argument. It’ll make your head explode.’
‘Rafa?’
‘He’s a master at it.’ I feel the familiar tug in my chest. What I wouldn’t give to be arguing with him right now.
We go back to packing the remnants of my old life back into boxes. I pick up the notebook—my notebook—and flick through the pages again. My attention snags on the word bungee. I skim the short story. For a second my head swims and the ink bleeds together on the page. Jude stops fiddling with the box he’s trying to close.
‘What is it?’
I wait for the words to come back into focus. ‘It’s a story about jumping from a cable car in Switzerland.’
‘Show me.’ I hand it to him, my fingers numb. He skims a few pages. ‘This one’s about the Cinque Terra…’ I hold my breath while he reads on. ‘This one’s about a couple of backpackers in London.’ He keeps going, page after page. Finally, he looks up. ‘Gaby, this is our entire trip.’ He closes the notebook, hands it back to me. ‘At least now we know where those memories come from.’
‘Jude—’
‘You heard what Daisy said: I’m the only person you let read those stories.’ His voice catches and he won’t look at me.
‘It still doesn’t tell us who did this to us, or why.’
The opening drums of ‘My Hero’ interrupt that thought. I answer my phone. ‘Mags?’
‘Gaby, we’re in the library. You have to come, now.’ She’s frantic. I close my eyes to concentrate.
‘The library…here?’
‘Please, Gaby. We’re not alone.’
BLINDED BY THE LIGHT
We run.
There’s no sign of Daisy so we race back the way we came, boots pounding on the pavers.
Shit, shit shit. What are they doing in the library? Is Dani with them? Who else is there? Panic drives my arms and knees. My lungs burn. There’s the door…crap, that’s the library, isn’t it?
‘Gabe!’ It’s Daisy, somewhere behind us. We keep running.
Jude and I hit the door together, sprint across the portico and burst into the library.
Oh fuck.
Jason has his back to us, facing down Nathaniel, Daniel and Calista, his shoulder-length curls still wild from the shift. Calista is barely a metre from him, focused on the woman and child pressed against the bookshelves behind him. The girl is thin-boned, her skin alabaster. Blonde curls hang past her shoulders, damp like they’re freshly washed. Her mother is shorter than everyone else in the room. Dark hair cropped to a pixie cut, practical, her face clear of make-up. She’s wearing an oversized knitted jumper, leggings and boots.
And Maggie.
She’s pale—she always is after shifting. I’ve told her about Nathaniel, but she’s still not prepared for him. She sees me, closes her eyes in relief. My heart gives a painful thump.
‘What the hell is going on?’ I demand and drag everyone’s attention to me. The air in here is colder now, the mustiness heavier.
‘Your friend brought uninvited guests,’ Calista says. ‘And the child tells us she can see Rephaim.’
‘Gabe!’
Dani breaks free from her mother and runs to me. Maria makes a grab for her but Dani’s too quick. She flings her arm around my waist, buries her head against my chest. I freeze. Maria falters. The library is blanketed in silence. The small stranger pressed against me is all elbows, and smells of pears and honey. I put my arms around her, squeeze tight. Her pink parka rustles.
The door opens and Daisy rushes in. ‘What’s going on—’ She falters when she sees Dani wrapped around me.
&
nbsp; ‘Daisy,’ Daniel says. ‘Guard the doors. Nobody else is to set foot in here. Daisy.’
She’s watching me with a strange expression. Not accusing…confused. She registers Daniel is speaking and finally nods, heads for the door. The door clicks shut behind her.
‘You know this child?’ It’s Daniel who asks.
I ignore him, bend my head closer to Dani. ‘Are you okay?’
She peers up at me through curls even fairer than Jason’s. Eyes startlingly blue. Nods. ‘Mom didn’t want to come but I said we had to.’ Her accent is American—the faintest hint of uptown New York. She gives Jude a nervous smile.
‘Gabe, answer Daniel,’ Calista says.
What the hell am I supposed to say? ‘Give me a minute.’
But Calista’s not in the mood for waiting. She looks from Jude to me, narrows her eyes as if she’s measuring the distance. She lunges. I push Dani to Jude and block Calista with my hip. She recovers, swings her fist. I duck, punch her in the stomach, and then slam my elbow into the side of her head. She staggers sideways and I kick her hard in the hip. She grabs a chair on the way down; it’s on castors, so it only speeds her fall. Calista’s leg twists as she lands and her trackpants hitch up. I catch a flash of something—dull grey, metallic; all wrong—and then Daniel shoves me aside. By the time I get my balance, Jude has slammed Daniel into the bookshelf, a hand tight around his throat.
‘I warned you about touching my sister again,’ Jude says.
Daniel swings an elbow at Jude. Jude blocks it, keeps his grip on Daniel’s throat. They eyeball each other.
‘Stand down!’ Calista is on her feet, eyes blazing. I get between her and Jude and Daniel. Dani’s back with her mother now. Maria’s eyes are wide, her breathing shallow, arms clamped around her daughter. Jason is in front of them and Maggie, arms out, protective.
‘You first.’ Jude leans into Daniel. Daniel could shift but doesn’t. Pride?
‘Judah,’ Nathaniel says. ‘If you expect this child to stay here, she must first be tested. She may be under the influence of the demon realm.’
I glance at Dani, heart in my mouth. ‘She made it through the wards, so you know she’s not—’
