‘Fine. Boundaries established. Why don’t you get to the point?’ My eyes narrowed. ‘Because the last time you and I had a brief chat, you’d astral travelled into a pair of truckers and attacked me. You called me your destiny. Said you had copies of the Key of Aldebaran.’
‘Yes.’ Gorath smiled, showing plenty of teeth. ‘I suppose I was showing off.’
‘You tried to kill me.’
‘No.’ His smile dropped and he pulled a silver cigarette case out of a pocket, carefully selecting one and lighting it. ‘I would never have done that. At least, not intentionally.’ He blew out a long stream of smoke. ‘Lora, forgive me for asking, but do you remember anything about your mother?’
I blinked a few times, momentarily disorientated by the change of direction. ‘No. She left me on a doorstep of Blackgoat Watch when I was a baby.’
‘Yes. That is what I heard. And your father?’
I thought of the angel Sariel, who haunted my dreams, and his insistence that he was my father. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe his claim, it was more that I didn’t care. Gideon was the closest thing I had to a father, and that was fine by me.
‘I didn’t know my biological father,’ I said. After all, this was technically the truth. Even if Sariel was my father, I still knew nothing about him and even less about his biology; besides, I only had his word for it. All I knew for sure was he wanted me to be in a seat of power and to be worshipping him. Since I’d called him on it, I’d slept like a baby.
‘I know something of my father,’ Gorath said softly, tapping ash on the floor. ‘He would appear to me in dreams, asking for my fealty.’
I shifted on the chair, struggling to keep my face still. What Gorath was suggesting was more than unsettling. Was it possible his dreams were tormented in a similar fashion to mine?
Gorath’s eyes were bright as they watched me. ‘He was called Sariel, one of the four guardians of The Weald. He said I was destined to fulfil the prophecy of the Dreadwitch and the Howling King. Said I was made for it. Said I was to walk the path I —’
‘— was created for.’ I finished his sentence without thinking, quoting a mantra Sariel had repeated often enough.
Gorath smiled as he dropped his cigarette and ran a boot toe over it. With an effort, I kept my mouth shut. Nice to know I could manage self-control at my age. But there was no way was I going to start comparing daddy issues here. And there was no way I was going to admit I knew Sariel as well, or that he had been spouting the same rhetoric to me. I wanted to leave. Now. But I stayed sitting, because I’d promised Roman I’d behave.
‘There are some who would still believe you are the Dreadwitch,’ Gorath continued. ‘But I know that you do not embrace this idea. Could you tell me what it is you believe in?’
‘Me?’ I touched my chest. ‘I believe in a cold beer. I believe in a good game of dice. What I don’t believe in, is being someone’s puppet. Especially when it’s probably going to result in my death.’
‘A sensible notion,’ Gorath said.
‘Thank you. I thought so.’
‘In times past, I believed my father. Until I saw his lies, laid bare before me. Shall I share with you how I reached my own revelation?’
I shrugged, realising I was curious. ‘Why not?’
Gorath gave me a broad smile. ‘I’d known Manika for some time before I realised I was in love with her. Her influence was calming and I found myself seeking her presence more and more. She stilled the sense of emptiness I had in my heart. Then, when Roman appeared, you might say it was something of a shock.’ His smile slipped. ‘A nephilim with wings the colour of snow? There have been fanciful tales that the nephilim weren’t bred by celestials, as the Grigori claimed, but by the Unclean Ones, the angels cast from the heavens for the sin of pride. But white wings?’ Gorath shook his head. ‘That is the colour of the celestial’s wings. To me, it was a sign. That perhaps there was goodness in me after all. And after Seth reached out, seeking to arrange peace between Casper and myself, I knew it was time for things to change.’
‘I guess this means you told this Sariel character to get lost?’ I tried to sound casual.
Gorath’s eyes clouded. ‘In a manner of speaking. You might say he was instrumental in bringing me back from the edge I found myself at.’
‘I’m glad.’
‘He taught me to use blood magic, you know.’
I frown, not sure what he wanted me to say to that. Orella herself had warned me against the use of blood magic. Being able to access the ley-lines without the need of a casting agent sounded handy to me, but Orella had been adamant that blood magic led to insanity.
I chose my words carefully. ‘Like Seth said before, nephilim are born with the ability. They just know not to use it.’
‘I was with the Order for ten years before I escaped,’ Gorath said. ‘I always thought blood magic was forbidden because the Grigori wanted to keep me weak. But when Sariel taught me, my mind to slipped into darkness. Sometimes I went so deep, I thought I’d drown.’ He swallowed, before his face cleared. ‘But let us not talk about the past. We are here now, brokering peace, and it would please me to give you something. A gesture of goodwill between us.’
He stood and pulled out a book from one of the glass cabinets. ‘This is one of the copies of the Aldebaran in my possession. I would entrust it to you.’
Personally, I’d rather he gave me cash, but the book was a mighty fine second prize.
‘Thanks.’ I clutched the book to my chest and a flicker of familiarity passed between us. It was as if Gorath had some measure of understanding of who I was: of growing up thinking I was a freak with my white hair and Sariel haunting my dreams.
‘I believe you are my half-sister, Lora,’ Gorath said. ‘At least, my father used to insinuate as much. That he had seeded the world with those who would see him achieve the power and might he deserved.’
My hands clutched tighter around the book. I tried to pull off a dismissive smile, but it was stiff and forced. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Gorath’s face turned thoughtful. ‘Could you at least promise me we will have a conversation some day about it? I’d always dreamt that having a sense of family would ground me.’ He shook his head. ‘I just wanted to feel like I belonged somewhere. Though the father in my dreams was cruel, he was all I had.’
‘He might have been lying,’ I said carefully. ‘This Sariel character…maybe he wasn’t your father at all.’
Gorath nodded. ‘Perhaps.’
My eyes dropped to my boots and I didn’t know what to say. The very idea that I had a half-brother was strange to me. I didn’t know what to do with the information, so I just nodded towards the door.
‘Can we join the others now?’
‘Of course.’ Gorath motioned for me to lead the way. He was being awfully pleasant, and I wondered if he’d still be so polite if he knew I was planning on burning the Aldebaran he’d given me. I didn’t give a shit about the prophecy, but the spells in it were dangerous and unpredictable, and the damned thing had to be destroyed.
Approaching the meeting room, we heard shouts. Gorath hurried ahead of me, pulling a small gun from the small of his back. I stumbled into the room after him, only to see Roman and Seth nose to nose, hands on each other. The moment we entered they broke apart, and Manika rushed forward to pick up cups that had been dropped on the floor. Seth’s bitch troll friend just sat at the table, arms crossed and looking annoyed.
Gorath tucked the gun back in his belt. ‘Something wrong, gentlemen?’
Seth straightened his jacket, face blank.’Nothing that won’t be fixed in the full measure of time.’
Roman glared at him, hands dropping to his side and curling into fists. ‘Is that a threat?’
‘Take my words in whichever way you choose.’ Seth nodded at Gorath. ‘For now, I think I will take my leave.’
Bitch troll frowned. ‘I don’t want to leave. You said we could stay all night. Why s
hould we go because —’ she stopped and shot me a dirty look.
‘Circumstances have changed,’ Seth murmured.
Manika was by their side in an instant, chatting brightly as they left. Gorath said his goodbyes at the door, then turned to Roman.
‘Whatever your issue with Seth Hallow,’ Gorath said, ‘I would advise caution. A man with his resources would be a dangerous enemy to have.’
Chapter 5
By the time we arrived back at the compound, it was nearly 2am. Roman had been silent the entire trip back, and I was too busy thinking about Gorath’s family revelations to try to engage him.
Once the car pulled to a stop, Roman exited without a word. I debated following to ask what was wrong, but I wasn’t sure I had the energy. Emotional heart-to-hearts felt like a young girl’s game, and right now I felt a hundred years old. So instead, I joined Casper on the front porch where he was smoking a fat cigar, Gorath’s gifted Aldebaran tucked under one of my arms.
‘Did you know Seth was going to be there?’ I eyed the cigar and debated about asking if he had a spare for me. The crappy way I was feeling, just a quick puff would do.
‘The Wizard?’ Casper blew a series of smoke rings. ‘Guess I shouldn’t have been surprised he was behind all of this.’
I grunted in response, thinking the same thing. When I’d first met Casper, he’d compared Seth to a character in his favourite movie, The Wizard of Oz. As Seth was the one who had saved Casper’s life in The Weald, I understood why Casper would think Seth could perform miracles, but he also knew enough not to look behind the curtain.
‘You should go talk to him.’ Casper jerked his head towards inside.
‘Yeah, yeah.’ If I had to take a grown-up guess, Roman might have been a little annoyed at my response to Seth’s female companion. The reaction had been like a knee jerk and now I looked like a jealous ex-girlfriend.
Bah.
Leaning on my cane, I limped back inside and walked to the kitchen to find Roman behind a marble kitchen counter, making a peanut-butter sandwich. He’d taken his coat off and his wings flicked around, as if happy to be free.
‘Want one?’ He indicated the sandwich.
‘Sure.’
I placed the Aldebaran down as Roman pushed a plate across. He ate standing up, leaning against the counter, while I sat at the table, wishing I had some milk to wash the sticky sandwich down. Milk, and the right words to break the tension in the room. But Roman didn’t seem in the mood to talk, so we ate in silence.
After he finished, he dusted his hands and rinsed his plate. I knew this was my last chance to say something. To apologise. A chance to be the mature one.
‘What’s up your nose?’ The words come out like a growl and I cursed silently. Way to be mature, Lora.
Roman opened the fridge and pulled out a large carton of milk, pouring two glasses. ‘Was that book a gift from Gorath?’
‘Yeah.’ My fingers brushed the worn cover.
‘One of your precious Aldebaran?’
‘It was a gesture of goodwill, apparently.’
‘And what did he want to talk to you about?’ Roman asked.
‘Making peace.’ I left out Gorath’s suggestion that we shared the same father. ‘Seems he’s not really into acting out some stupid prophecy any more than I am.’
Roman grunted. ‘Gorath’s wife appears to have a great influence on him. Perhaps whatever destiny he has been searching for, he has found in her.’
‘She seemed nice enough,’ I murmured. ‘Do you know where he got the scars on his neck from?’
‘No, but Casper might. Ask him.’
‘And what do you think?’ I asked casually. ‘About the berserker curse not being a problem.’
‘It’s a theory I’d like to test,’ Roman replied. ‘Soon.’
I wasn’t sure where to go from there and the atmosphere wound tighter with things unsaid.
‘Why do you come here, Lora?’ Roman finally asked. ‘Why have you continued to come and see me?’
I wanted to say: because I love you, but the words caught in my throat like stones. Roman put the glass of milk in front of me and I gulped it down like I was dying of thirst.
He sighed. ‘I owe you a great debt for what you did for me. Bringing me to Casper to be healed. A chance at this new life, outside of the Order. And now, with this news about possibly returning to The Weald, it all means so much to me.’
I stared into my empty glass, feeling a little sick. ‘There’s no debt owed.’
Because I love you.
But my lips wouldn’t form the words. I tried for something else.
‘Seth might have brokered this meeting tonight, but you can’t trust his motives,’ I said. ‘Whatever he’s doing, it will be for a self-serving purpose.’
‘I know how dangerous Seth Hallow is,’ Roman said.
I hesitated, then asked, ‘What were you two fighting about?’
Roman drained his glass, then rinsed it in the sink. ‘It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.’ He turned to face me and my heart sank, seeing his expression blank, eyes like hunks of coal. ‘I’m going to get some rest. Casper can show you where you can bunk for the night.’
I watched the sway of his wings as he walked off and cursed myself for the second time that night. For someone who kept talking about being a mature, genuine grown-up, I had sure made a mess of things tonight.
Chapter 6
I didn’t stay the night. Instead, I made the drive home, despite Casper’s concerns about me falling asleep behind the wheel. By the time my head hit my own pillow, roosters were crowing in the distance. I managed to fall asleep anyway, dreaming of my hands wrapped around their filthy feathered necks and eating a drumstick.
I had a good few hours’ sleep before the city clock woke me at noon. With much grumbling, I dragged myself up, pulled on a dressing gown and stumbled downstairs to the kitchen.
Home was a two-storey redbrick terrace house in Toxeth Street, not far from Abraham’s Alley. My furniture was second-hand and my chimney clogged every winter, but it was my sanctuary, guarded by protective hexes scrawled in chalk on windows and doorframes.
But sanctuary or not, a quick survey of my empty kitchen brought glum, lonely thoughts. Once upon a time, I’d had a housekeeper and every morning she had greeted me with a hot breakfast and a warm fire in the living room. Her name had been Morgan, and I’d considered her family. So when a hellspawn I’d been hunting killed her, it had torn a gaping hole in my life, one I hadn’t managed to plaster over yet, let alone consider hiring another housekeeper. As a result, my pantry was permanently bare, save for a bag of coffee, one of the more important food groups.
Lighting my range cooker, I put some water on to boil, then checked for mail. A few envelopes sat piled under the front-door mail slot. Most of them were messages from Mercury boys, passing on enquiries from Runners, but when I recognised one with Gideon’s handwriting on the front, my heart gave an excited lurch.
Sitting down at the kitchen table with a fresh coffee, I tore the envelope open and squinted at Gideon’s cramped writing. Apparently they were having a great time in a small coastal village, and the warm weather was agreeing with Orella’s joints and cough.
The second page began with Gideon outlining his exploits at the local taverns, but I was interrupted by a knock at the door. Sighing, I put the letter down. I’d always considered myself a loner, but the revelation that I missed Gideon and Orella was an indication I’d been kidding myself. It felt like a chunk of me was missing.
I wasn’t that surprised to find Crowhurst at the front door. I was, however, surprised to see Nicola Marrok with him. She had been an actress in a former life, and our paths had crossed when I’d been hired as her bodyguard. She still had a breathtaking beauty about her, despite a few extra lines around her eyes. The death of her husband, Crowhurst’s brother Tarn, had been difficult to bear, though I’d wager the squirming baby in her arms had caused the bags unde
r her eyes. I noticed Crowhurst had a basket of food in his hands.
‘Hello? You’re both welcome in,’ I said, neutralising the household hexes. Nothing says ‘bad hostess’ like leaving your guests writhing in agony inside your home.
‘Hold Tarn for a moment, will you?’ Nicola handed me her baby before grabbing the basket from Crowhurst and breezing by me. ‘I’ve bought you some supplies. Reuben said you’re not taking care of yourself.’
‘Oh, is that right?’ I held the baby tight and shot Crowhurst a dirty look.
Crowhurst’s eyes twinkled. ‘Hearing any clocks ticking, Lora? Getting any special feelings?’
I tried to thrust the baby into his arms. ‘Here. He’s your nephew.’
‘She gave him to you.’ He held his hands up.
The baby looked at me with big eyes and a line of drool fell from his mouth.
‘Look, see? He likes you,’ Crowhurst said.
I hurried into the kitchen where Nicola was stacking food in my icebox and pantry.
‘Honestly, Lora,’ she said. ‘It’s a wonder you don’t have scurvy. There was nothing in here but some coffee beans.’
‘Why don’t you let me do that?’ I held the wiggling baby out to her pointedly.
Nicola took him with an exasperated sigh. ‘Is it that hard for big, bad Lora to hold a baby?’ She looked down at the bundle in her arms. ‘I fink Wora is silly-willy, isn’t she? Isn’t she?’
I backed out of the kitchen as Nicola talked like she’d developed a speech impediment. Breathing easier in the lounge, I spotted Crowhurst flicking through the Aldebaran Gorath had given me. With a shriek of alarm I snatched it from him, realising I should have burned it first thing that morning.
‘I’m surprised you haven’t torched it yet. Isn’t that the grand plan?’ Crowhurst asked, picking up a local street-press paper from my coffee table.
I tucked the book behind the woodpile by the fireplace, telling myself the next time I had the energy to light my fireplace, the book was going in it. ‘Never you mind. What are you doing here?’
Chaos Broken Page 4
