Chaos Broken

by Rebekah Turner

  The woman gestured towards a door and Casper moved forward first, while Roman and I followed close behind.

  Thumping music engulfed us as the reception opened to a massive nightclub. The air was cold and my eyes took a moment to adjust. Strobe lights flashed overhead and the metallic scent of industrial smoke clogged my throat. Cages hung from the ceiling encasing writhing women in skimpy clothes, and men with dog collars threaded through the heaving crowd, taking drink orders.

  A woman in a shiny red leather dress approached us, her make-up geisha style. Her blonde hair was twisted into knots high on her head and secured with long pins that dripped with delicate gold chains, ending in small bells.

  ‘My name is Manika.’ Her voice cut cleanly through the music. ‘Please follow me.’

  Roman’s reassuring hand touched my back and I moved forward, hand tight around my cane. We passed a man chained to the wall and he barked at us, pawing the ground. I wondered what his day job was and imagined it would have to be something mind-numbingly boring to want this kind of treatment. Of course, maybe he was staff — and considering my current financial woes, I wasn’t in any position to judge how someone made their coin.

  We entered a long room with dark drapes and a scuffed concrete floor. A man in a gimp mask and leather shorts lay in one corner, while a woman in stilettos walked over him. A seemingly appreciative audience watched, dressed in black velvet and wearing too much foundation. When we walked in, eyes turned to us, curious. I didn’t have the heart to tell them we couldn’t top someone getting their liver staked by a stiletto.

  A raised platform occupied the end of the room, where a man sat on what looked like a real honest-to-god gold throne. As we approached, I heard the small crowd follow us.

  ‘He sits on a throne?’ I murmured to Roman. ‘Smells like a God complex to me.’

  Roman didn’t respond. He still looked relaxed, and I wanted to tell him right there and then that agreeing to this meeting was a mistake, but I figured that might send the wrong message to Captain Crazypants and his court of emos.

  United front, I chanted to myself. United front.

  The man stood and made a sweeping gesture. ‘You are welcome, brothers.’ His eyes cut to me. ‘And sister. I am Gorath. I am pleased we can finally meet.’

  The woman in red leather stepped up beside him and whispered in his ear, before kissing his cheek. Some of the arrogance slipped from Gorath’s face and he stepped down from the platform to approach us. His hair was an unusual shade of gold with streaks of black, and it cascaded past his shoulders, reminding me of a lion’s mane. His black nephilim eyes mirrored those of Roman and Casper, and I noticed scarring twisting up his neck. The scars looked old, the skin mottled and scorched, reminding me of an old burn.

  Gorath held both his hands out to Casper in a gesture of welcome. ‘You look well, brother. Thank you for your trust tonight.’

  Casper grunted, and for a moment I wasn’t sure he was going to respond. But then he raised his hands to grasp Gorath’s own and they shook once. Gorath turned to Roman, repeating the gesture.

  ‘Brother. It is a great honour to meet you and break bread.’

  ‘I appreciate the chance to talk.’ Roman’s voice was guarded as he briefly took Gorath’s hands.

  ‘The honour is mine.’ Gorath inclined his head to Roman, then turned my way, his smile widening. ‘And here she is. In the flesh.’ He held his hands out to me. ‘Lora Blackgoat. I welcome you with open arms.’

  Since I’m not as polite as Roman, and I remembered quite clearly what happened the last time Gorath and I sort of met, I just stared at him. Then I folded my arms. Gorath threw back his head and laughed, a deep, booming sound. He glanced back at the woman in red, who watched us with an indulgent look.

  ‘She’s got that same stubborn streak you do, my love,’ she called out.

  Gorath looked back at me, still smiling. ‘What do you think of my nightclub, Lora?’

  I bristled, jerking a thumb over my shoulder. ‘Look. Are we having this sit-down, or are we just going to watch that guy get his nuts stepped on? I could have stayed in Applecross for that.’

  ‘Lora,’ Roman murmured: a warning to mind my manners.

  Gorath’s smile slipped, before he recovered and nodded. ‘Of course. Please follow me to where we can talk in private.’

  My mouth opened to say something smart about walking into traps, but then Roman’s hand landed heavily on my shoulder. Seems I’d played my role in setting the tone and now it was time to shut up and get down to it. Either we got talking, or we got bloody.

  The crowd parted for us and we followed Gorath into a second room. This one had walls covered with books, a heavy table in the middle and a crackling fireplace casting a warm light. A well-dressed figure stood by the flames, arm resting on the mantle. I stopped abruptly when familiar amber eyes met mine.

  ‘Hello, Lora.’ Seth Hallow gave me an easy smile.

  ‘Uh,’ I replied, because my mind had gone blank. Last time I’d seen Seth was six months ago, when I’d watched him stand with members of Harken Council as they unveiled the renovated grand fountain in Avalon Square. Apparently, Seth had funded the renovations out of the goodness of his heart. Which I totally didn’t buy and after a bit of digging, I’d found he’d turned into quite the philanthropist after leaving the City Watch to become the leader of the Reaper Street Gang. Talk about a contradiction. Where this path of supposed respectability was going I had no idea — any way you tried to shade it, the Reapers were deadly assassins and all other shades of nasty, and now he was their leader.

  Seth’s sleeves were rolled up and I saw he’d got a spanking new scythe tattoo on his forearm, the mark of the Reapers.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I blurted out. Roman gave me a gentle push into the room and I stumbled forward.

  ‘Seth.’ Casper sounded surprised. ‘Good to see you, old friend.’

  ‘Casper.’ Seth nodded.

  Gorath took a seat at the head of the table and motioned for us to join him. ‘Seth was the one who suggested this gathering. Naturally, being the leader of the powerful Reaper Street Gang, I thought it prudent for him to attend.’

  I was starting to sit myself when Gorath said this, and I paused, mid-squat, wondering what new scheme Seth was plotting. Roman settled next to me and pulled me down into my chair.

  ‘And now, not only the Reapers,’ Seth announced as he sat opposite Casper. ‘As of last week, the Bowley Street Boys and the Black Darby gang all swore allegiance to me. Strength in numbers, you understand.’

  There was a long pause, as everyone digested this new piece of information. I kept quiet, thinking of this turn of events and what it meant. If the other gangs now worked under the Reapers, it made Seth almost as powerful as the Council of Ten within Harken. This was quite the step up. In his first life, Seth had been a powerful hellspawn, until his enemies had conspired to cast him out of the Pit, cursing him to walk The Weald as a human. After that, my knowledge of Seth’s background was sketchy. He’d taken a human name, Seth Hallow, and begun the slow process of rebuilding his base of power. At some point in the past, he had helped nephilim escape the Order, Casper being the first. I’d always known Seth was ambitious, and when I’d learned he knew of my nephilim heritage and potential involvement with some obscure prophecy, I’d thought he meant to use me in his plans. Seems I wasn’t needed for a power grab after all. He was doing just fine on his own.

  ‘That’s quite an achievement,’ Roman said finally.

  ‘Yes,’ Seth said smoothly. ‘But easily done once the right motivation was provided. And so I am here tonight, representing interests in Harken.’

  ‘And do you want to explain what we’re all doing here, exactly?’ Casper asked from his seat next to me.

  Gorath spoke up. ‘We’re here to discuss the future of Harken and The Weald. And the role of the nephilim.’

  Roman shifted in his chair and I caught the movement of his wings, twitching beneath
the coat. ‘I thought this meeting was about brokering peace between the different factions of nephilim.’

  ‘That is an important part of it.’ Gorath nodded at Roman’s shoulders. ‘Would you care to remove your coat? You can’t be comfortable.’

  Roman waved the suggestion away. ‘I’m fine. Let us proceed.’

  ‘As you wish.’ Gorath looked disappointed. ‘I’m sure you understand now how the landscape has changed dramatically since your arrival here, Brother Roman. I am not blind to the implications of a winged nephilim and, despite what anyone else might think, I have only ever wanted the best for my fellow brothers.’

  The woman in the red dress, Manika, appeared with a tray of drinks, chatting brightly with another woman in a skimpy black leather number. I noticed the woman in black had a scythe tattoo on her forearm.

  ‘Hope everyone is behaving themselves.’ Manika put down the tray, then stood beside Gorath, ruffling his hair. He smiled at her, face full of adoration.

  ‘We are, my love.’ He picked up a drink and tilted it towards me. ‘I promise.’

  I was trying to pay attention to what Gorath was saying, but was hugely distracted by the woman in black cuddling up to Seth. She rubbed up against him like a cat on heat, and Seth’s hands were on her hips. It bothered me, and I was horribly annoyed by the fact. Seth and I were ancient history. I decided I was irritated because Seth was playing games; trying to make me cross by bringing a tart along to rub in my face. As if I cared.

  Gorath was talking to Manika in a low voice, while Seth laughed at something the bitch-troll had said. Roman rested a light hand on my arm.

  ‘Are you alright?’ he asked.

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

  ‘You seem tense.’

  ‘We’re in enemy territory. Of course I’m tense.’

  Roman sat back, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows. I slumped in my chair, scowling and trying to remember why I was even there. They didn’t need me for this shit. They could swing their dicks at each other to make their fancy peace agreement without me. I had more important things to do. Like finding a stray cat and warning my employees about making fat jokes about their co-workers’ wives.

  I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to centre myself. Gorath must have wanted me here for a reason and I had been curious enough to come, despite the danger. I opened my eyes to see the bitch-troll watching me with cool eyes. I narrowed mine in return.

  ‘The idea of peace between the nephilim in the Outlands is achievable,’ Casper was saying. ‘But if you’re suggesting any sort of peace deal between the Order and the nephilim, you can forget it. There’s just no way it’s going to happen.’

  ‘I respectfully disagree with you, brother,’ Gorath said. ‘With Roman leading us, I think anything is possible.’

  ‘I can’t defeat the Order.’ Roman frowned at Gorath as if he was finally smelling crazy, which gave me some hope. ‘You’re talking about a military organisation that has been around for hundreds of years.’

  ‘Old ways crumble and change,’ Gorath said.

  ‘Not in our lifetime,’ Casper muttered.

  ‘You might be surprised how quickly change can happen,’ Gorath said. ‘The Order is like the ancient monuments in this world, enduring the passage of time. But seasons change and they endure deluge, baking sun, blasting winds. The surface becomes eroded, until small cracks appear, eventually widening to a fissure and becoming a point of weakness.’

  Casper cleared his throat. ‘I’m not sure we have it in us to weather the Order for a hundred more years.’

  ‘But you are wrong, brother. The Order is already cracked and weakened through fear and brutality. And what we have here… …’ he pointed to Roman, ‘…is an earthquake.’

  I noticed a movement from the corner of my eye and saw Manika touching her stomach and smile at Gorath fondly. My eyes zeroed in on her. Such a lovely woman, to have managed to pry a madman’s plot from him and convince him to have this meeting. Of course, it was my experience that people always had an agenda and I wondered what hers was.

  ‘I’m still not buying it,’ Casper muttered.

  ‘I know this is quite a step, considering our past.’ Gorath took a deep breath, dropping his hand. ‘But I see things differently now. I’ve discovered being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. And I have found that courage to change.’

  ‘Tao Te Ching?’ Roman asked.

  Gorath smiled. ‘Yes, brother. Good to know that you too are seeking guidance in exile.’

  ‘I agree with you that we could be a greater force if we joined together,’ Roman said. ‘But I am unsure about returning to The Weald.’

  Gorath leaned forward. ‘Think on it, brother. Being able to return to our homeland and walk around without fear of persecution from the Order, our heads held high.’

  ‘A desire most nephilim in the Outlands share,’ Casper said. ‘But the majority of the nephilim flee to the Outlands after falling sick from the berserker curse. Out here, the curse does not follow us, but who knows what would happen if we return to our birth realm?’

  ‘That was my concern as well.’ Gorath looked at Seth with an expectant expression.

  Seth cleared his throat. ‘This is something I’ve researched extensively. It’s common knowledge among us here that nephilim are born with a blood-caster magic ability, but the Order forbade its use, due to the instability of the magic.’ He scratched fingers through his thick goatee, brows furrowed as he glanced at Gorath. ‘This is the way it has always has been, since the dawn of The Weald. But the berserker curse has been a recent development for the nephilim, occurring since the rise of the Order and enslavement of your kind. Lately, a rumour surfaced that the curse was simply a poison, administered to nephilim whom the Grigori could no longer control. Then after they descended into madness, they were executed as an act of mercy.’ Seth tapped the table with a finger. ‘One would assume if the curse was a poison, then the effect would only be temporary.’

  ‘I have been going back to The Weald for a couple of years and the madness never revisited me. Now, under Seth’s supervision, some of our brothers have re-entered The Weald successfully in the last few years and stayed there.’ Gorath paused, looking around the table. ‘The madness has not resurfaced in any of them.’

  A hushed silence descended as everyone absorbed this news. My head whirled with the possibilities. Roman could return to The Weald, if he wanted. Of course, he’d probably never be able to return to Harken, considering the Order had marked him a traitor.

  ‘Are you certain of this?’ Excitement edged Roman’s voice.

  ‘As sure as I can be,’ Seth said. ‘That is why I feel it is important we start forming our allegiances now. The Grigori have heard rumours of Roman’s existence and have dispatched a High Grigori to Harken to investigate.’

  ‘A High Grigori in Harken?’ Casper’s mouth pulled down. ‘Fucking balls to that.’

  ‘An allegiance will make us strong,’ Gorath said. ‘My wife has family in The Weald and it would mean much to us to be able to pass freely through both realms. I would wager yours want to return home as well. This High Grigori coming is a mortar the Order wishes to use to repair its cracked monument. If our “earthquake” is to make the most of this damage, we would need to work together.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Roman said.

  Casper slapped the table. ‘Agreed.’

  ‘We have been well met tonight,’ Seth said, getting to his feet. ‘Let us adjourn for now.’

  Roman also stood. ‘You have given us much to consider. Thank you for reaching out to us to heal this rift.’

  Gorath got to his feet and came around to Roman, where they clasped hands again, the earlier tension gone. Stepping back from Roman, Gorath looked at me.

  ‘Lora, may I speak to you in private?’ he asked in a neutral tone.

  Beside me, Casper tensed and Roman frowned at Gorath. I just got to my feet, thankf
ul my part in the night was about to be revealed. But remembering what Gorath had said about Seth orchestrating the meeting, I wondered if maybe Seth was trying to play me. Gorath registered Roman’s unhappy face as I walked around the table.

  ‘I promise her no harm,’ Gorath told him. ‘You have my word on that.’

  Chapter 4

  Gorath led me into a cosy adjacent room lined with glass cabinets brimming with delicate china and mounted bird skeletons. An ancient globe sat under a painting of a waterfall, and cellos played softly from an iPod speaker resting on an antique chest of drawers. Gorath gestured towards two high-backed chairs beside a lit fireplace. Settling down on the soft velvet cushion, I crossed my arms, wanting to get this over with.

  Gorath sat opposite and steepled his fingers, resting the tips under his chin. ‘I know coming here tonight was a huge leap of faith on your part. I want you to understand that I have no intention of detaining you longer than you feel comfortable. You are free to leave at any time.’