Fowler saw my hesitation now and gave a crisp nod. ‘I understand you can’t divulge much. However, I have also heard Roman has been taking meetings with a nephilim called Gorath.’
‘I’ve heard of the guy.’ I made a seesaw motion with one hand. ‘I also heard he’s not quite right. What do you know about him?’
‘The Order discovered him when he was fifteen. Apparently, his mother was a griorwolf. A rare situation, a nephilim being born outside of the Order.’ Fowler paused, then added, ‘Much like yourself.’
‘Hmmm,’ I said, suddenly fascinated with the last of my cheesecake. Fowler knew I was nephilim, but it was a fact he had sworn to keep to himself. While I had been at the Order though, there had been rumours about me being nephilim. I had no idea how that information got out, but I quickly learned that Regulators were notorious gossips. When asked about the truth of the matter, I’d neither denied nor confirmed it.
‘Gorath’s situation was regretful,’ Fowler said. ‘There was simply no way of breaking the wildness inside him. But it was a valuable lesson in the type of vessels used to breed the nephilim.’
I leaned back in my chair, annoyed by Fowler’s casual mention of vessels. After all, my own mother had been one. I personally couldn’t bear the thought of my own mother choosing to lay with an angel, fallen or not.
‘We made every attempt to bring Gorath into the fold of the Order,’ Fowler was saying. ‘But the signs of the berserker rage had begun to manifest and then one day, he simply vanished.’
‘Probably worried about his expiration date,’ I said dryly.
Fowler gave me a sharp look. ‘What do you mean by that?’
I waved the issue aside. ‘I’m just tired. Someone was murdered today and I’ve got a lot on my mind.’
His thin lips stretched into a smile. ‘I understand. I also have worries that plague me.’
‘Cake helps me when I’m worried,’ I told him.
‘Indeed,’ Fowler agreed, though I had a hard time picturing him tucking into a strawberry torte when the shit hit the fan. ‘There is a something I needed to talk to you about. Something important.’
‘Oh? Do tell.’ I scraped up the last of my cake.
‘The Grigori suspect something of your nephilim heritage. They haven’t decided on an approach, but you should take care over the next few weeks in case they decide to bring you in for questioning.’
‘They can’t force me to go back to the Order,’ I said. ‘And I haven’t done anything wrong.’
Fowler’s eyebrows rose. ‘After seeing you in action, I’m not sure they’d want you back. And as I explained before, the Order’s previous experience with feral nephilim has not been positive.’
I arched an eyebrow. ‘Who you calling feral?’
Fowler ignored me. ‘We also received word that a High Grigori from Thesma is arriving soon to make an audit of our operations here in Harken.’
I kept my face neutral to not betray that I’d already heard this. A girl liked to have some secrets in life. ‘Doesn’t sound like it’s got anything to do with me. I try to keep my nose out of Grigori business.’
‘You might not have much of a choice. The High Grigori is a man by the name of Laeonder and he is feared, even within the ranks of the Grigori.’ Fowler reached into a pocket and pulled out a slim metal vial. He set it down on the table and pushed it towards me. ‘I want you to take this. Keep it as a safety precaution.’
‘What is it?’ I asked.
‘Apertor Elixir,’ Fowler said. ‘I know you are resistant to using it, but it is more effective than your salt. Even that odd concoction of yours, the…Sucker?’
‘Sucker Punch Special,’ I corrected, patting the pocket on my work-belt that housed the specialty mix. ‘Salt, consecrated silver, salt and a dash of gunpowder. My own special mix of spell-casting rocket fuel.’ My eyes dropped back to the vial. ‘Why are you giving it to me?’
‘Just take it and say thank you.’
‘Sure. Thanks.’ I quickly pocketed the vial. Used by Witch Hunters, the Apertor Elixir enabled a strong temporary connection with the ley-lines, bypassing any need for a casting medium. It was almost impossible to get, even on the black market. Though it bothered me that Fowler thought I was going to need it, I wasn’t going to slap the gesture away. With all my worries about keeping Blackgoat afloat, I could do with all the kindness I could get.
Chapter 10
It was close to midnight when I got home. Limping up to my door, I felt the back of my neck prickle. Pinching salt, I scanned the gloom around me, wishing the spluttering gas street lamps gave more light.
‘Lora.’ Roman emerged from the deep shadows near my door. He wore a long, heavy cloak with a high collar and a leather tricorn hat.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked. ‘And what’s with that hat?’
A guilty look slid over his face. ‘I decided to test Seth’s theory for myself.’
‘Yeah? Doesn’t sound too smart, and I would know.’ I peered into the shadows for any other nephilim with him. ‘What did Casper think of you gallivanting back into The Weald?’
‘He doesn’t know.’ Roman’s teeth shone in the gloom. ‘At least, not yet.’
‘You left without telling him?’ Somehow I had trouble believing it. Roman didn’t make irresponsible moves; that was my specialty.
‘There are some within the Order who have kept in touch with Casper and myself. Those who are sympathetic to the nephilim outcasts. I thought I might arrange a meeting. Casper disagreed. So I thought it best to go on my own.’ Roman hesitated, then touched the brim of the hat. ‘You don’t like it?’
‘It’s very dashing. You don’t look like a dodgy pirate at all.’
He laughed. ‘Alright. I won’t wear it again. Can I come inside?’
‘Sure. I invite you in.’ I crossed the threshold and dropped my cane in the umbrella stand by the door, before turning on the corridor gas lamp. My breath quickened at the closeness of Roman as he followed me into the kitchen, my brain still trying to register that he was actually here in my home.
When I lifted a hand to the kitchen light switch, he stopped me. I turned and he slipped a hand around my waist, drawing me close, eyes locked on mine.
‘Roman.’ My voice was hoarse, my pulse thumping wildly. I wanted to say we needed to talk about how fragile things had been between us over the year. But my heart gave a sorry throb, wanting more than anything to stay in his arms. I felt as if I belonged with him, but a sliver of stubbornness held me back from saying what I knew he wanted to hear. After all, what if he wanted more than I could give?
Roman leaned in, brushing his lips against mine, and my blood blazed with desire for him. Only him. He kissed me harder and my hands pulled at his cloak, wanting if off. Wanting all his clothes off. I wanted to see him naked, I wanted to see how he’d changed. How his wings moved. Most of all, I wanted him inside me.
Roman picked me up and set me on the table. My thighs clenched around him and I gasped as he tore my blouse open. His hands dipped under my bra, calloused fingers rolling over my hard nipples.
‘You are mine, Lora Blackgoat,’ he growled.
The dominance of his statement shook me. A man had never tried to claim such ownership before, and I found myself torn. No one was in charge of me. No one ruled my destiny. But the idea of belonging to Roman also made me hotter than I’d ever been. I had been warned about how brutal and savage nephilim could be, but Roman had always been gentle and respectful. Now that he had broken free of the Grigori, had this changed?
His hands had paused and I realised he was waiting for me to respond. Unfortunately, my brain had short-circuited and I was having difficulty formulating a sentence.
A sharp rapping sounded at the door. Roman pinched my nipples and I bit my lip, trying to keep quiet and hoping whoever it was would go away.
‘Lora? I know you’re in there.’
Roman recognised Seth’s voice and our eyes locked. Then his hand dropped and
he withdrew a step. Swearing silently, I knew the moment was lost.
‘I’ll get rid of him,’ I whispered, cursing Seth’s poor timing.
‘Don’t bother.’ Roman backed up. ‘I’m sure there are things you need to discuss with him.’
‘Wait,’ I hissed. ‘Where are you going to stay?’
He walked to the kitchen’s back door, picking his hat up on the way. He glanced back at me. ‘I grew up in this city, Lora. As a Regulator I spent years in the most rotten parts of the city. As you are so fond of saying: I can take care of myself.’ Then he slipped into the darkness beyond.
I stared after him, wondering if I was relieved or disappointed he’d left. We hadn’t even had a chance to talk properly. My eyes dropped to my torn blouse and I pulled it closed as best I could as I limped to the door and yanked it open.
Seth held out a bottle of gin. ‘Peace offering.’
‘It’s late.’ I folded my arms. ‘What do you want?’
His eyes dropped to my blouse. ‘What happened?’
‘This is how all the cool kids wear it now.’
‘Interesting.’ Seth glanced at the hexes on my doorframe. ‘Are you going to invite me in?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘What do you want?’
He sighed and showed me what was in his other hand: a book with a very familiar front cover.
‘Now, where did you get a copy of the Aldebaran from?’ I asked.
‘I promise to tell you, if you invite me in.’ Seth waggled the bottle. ‘How about that truce now?’
‘Fine,’ I said, my fingers itching to take the book. It represented everything that had gone wrong in my life over the last couple of years and I wanted to see it burn more than anything. I hadn’t gotten around burning Gorath’s copy yet, and I mentally lined up the marshmallows. ‘You’re invited, you’re invited.’
Seth handed me the book and strode past me into the lounge. He set about stacking fresh logs into my neglected long fireplace, while I turned on a lamp and settled in an armchair with the Aldebaran. It felt heavier than it should have, and when I turned its stiff pages the paper made dry, crinkling sounds.
‘Where did you get this?’ I asked again.
‘A friend of a friend,’ Seth replied. ‘He owed me.’
‘Must be nice to have so many people owing you.’ I turned another page, glancing over the language, that broken variation of Latin and Hellspeak. ‘I thought you were going to tell me Gorath had given away another copy.’
‘The Aldebaran symbolise something very precious to Gorath.’ Seth turned on his haunches to fix me with a meaningful look. ‘I do recall you once talking about destroying every copy you could find. So you might want to rethink that master plan.’
‘I told you that?’ I asked innocently, silently cursing my big mouth.
Seth reached behind the logs, and pulled out the Aldebaran I’d stashed there. ‘You did. I’d ask you wait before you embark on burning the copy he gave you. Just out of respect, if nothing else. For instance, you could wait until the peace between him and Roman is on more solid ground. As a suggestion. No one knows how many of these exist. They’re very expensive, Lora.’
‘They’re also very dangerous,’ I huffed. ‘What do you want for this one?’
Seth didn’t reply. He kept busy lighting the fire, and when he was satisfied with the small flames, he disappeared into the kitchen. Glasses clinked and he came back, pouring the gin.
‘Your back door is open,’ he said, handing me a glass.
‘I was just out the there.’ I swallowed a mouthful of the bitter liquid. ‘Fresh air.’
Seth didn’t look convinced, but I didn’t care. The gin was top shelf and smooth going down, warming my insides and dulling the ache in my chest. I put the book aside, waiting for Seth to tell me what he really wanted.
He sat down opposite and caught my expectant look. ‘No strings attached, Lora.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘You should.’
‘Fine.’
‘Good.’
I sipped my drink, too tired to play games. ‘Tell me…how’s it feel? Being the big man, I mean.’
‘Big man?’
‘I saw you at the unveiling of the new fountain at Avalon,’ I said. ‘You know, being the big man.’
‘Ahh, yes.’ Seth smoothed a hand over his dark goatee. ‘What did you think of it all? Impressed with my new image?’
‘What do you care what I think?’
‘Of course I care.’
His matter-of-fact tone subdued me and I realised that despite all the events that had unfurled between us over this last year, he still saw us as having a bond. The worst thing was, he was right. You couldn’t just sever a long-term, on-and-off relationship without some residue of feelings.
Without meaning to, my hands rose to adjust my torn top. Seth’s eyes dropped pointedly and a small smile flicked at the corner of his lips, as if he knew exactly what had been going on before he’d knocked.
My hand dropped. ‘Why don’t you ask the bitch troll you were with at the meeting? I’m sure she’s impressed with everything you do.’
Seth drained his glass. ‘She’s not exactly a troll, Lora. Am I not worthy of receiving love, even if it is not yours? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.’ His head tilted to the side, giving me a curious look. ‘Thought I wasn’t good enough for you. Thought you didn’t trust me enough to be in your bed anymore.’
I finished my drink, trying to decipher Seth’s motivation for being here. Perhaps he and Gorath really were just extending the hand of friendship. Then I reminded myself not to be naive. I tried for a sincere tone.
‘I’m sorry. You’ve bought me something nice and I’m just being a bitch.’
Seth’s eyebrows rose; no doubt he had been expecting more of a tantrum. I supposed I’d thrown enough in the past that it would be a reasonable assumption.
‘I’m just very tired,’ I said, and I meant it. The day had started with a body and gone downhill from there. After Roman’s whirlwind visit and his proclamations of me being his, and now trying to see behind Seth’s motivation, all I wanted was a long lie down. I stood, indicating the conversation was over.
Seth hesitated, then got to his feet. I linked my arm in his, leading him to the door. ‘You’ve done many wonderful things for me, Seth. And rarely with strings attached.’ I opened the door, guiding him outside. ‘If there’s anything I can do for you in exchange for your kindness, you let me know.’
Seth frowned. ‘Are you making fun of me?’
‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘I suppose running Blackgoat Watch is turning me into a responsible adult at last.’
‘This isn’t some sort of game I’m playing,’ Seth said.
‘Of course not.’
‘You are making fun of me, then.’
I leant against the doorframe. ‘No one would dare make fun of the boss of the Reaper Street Gang, let alone me. I’m just a lowly Runner.’
Seth walked down the stairs, then stopped and turned. ‘I’ll talk to Gorath about his other copies, see if he wants to part with them…but for now, I’d recommend keeping those books safe and whole.’
‘Thanks for the book, Seth,’ I said. ‘And the gin.’
Then I closed the door and extinguished the hallway light, knowing Seth had lied. Of course he was playing a game with me. There were always strings attached, I’d just never been able to see them before. Even if he didn’t mean to, it was Seth’s nature to manipulate. But this time, I’d figure it out and I’d be ready.
Chapter 11
After a reasonable night’s sleep and an obnoxiously early morning rise, I pottered about the house, inhaling an apple strudel that Nicola had left, and fuelling up on coffee.
After the hour was deemed reasonable, I decided to check in on Sabine to ask some questions about Kalin. Then I’d go to Blackgoat and talk to Crowhurst about Nicola’s offer. If the money was as good as Crowhurst was implying, then f
uck pride, I’d give it a go.
I dressed in my Tanker boots, sensible cotton trousers and a green top with a high neck. A peek out the window showed miserable grey skies and drizzling rain, so I grabbed a thick coat with a hood and buckled on my work-belt. Taking my cane and an umbrella beside it, I stepped out to the bleak morning and whistled for a Mercury boy. When one appeared, I sent him to Blackgoat with a brief message to Crowhurst about my whereabouts. Then I limped along the increasingly crowded street, searching for a free rickshaw. When one finally rattled to a stop beside me, I gave him the address and then stared out the window at the water-slicked streets, replaying the visits of Seth and Roman last night. Goosebumps prickled my skin as I recalled Roman’s declaration that I was his. Did I want that? Did I want to be his possession? It felt like the kind of novelty that would wear off.
By the time we pulled up outside the school I’d sunken into a dandy little pool of depression, and being back at my old school made it worse. Even before Poulter’s murder, I didn’t have fond memories of this place. I’d struggled with sitting still for so long, listening to a teacher drone on about the history of The Weald. Then there were the classes for the girls on how to cook and sew so we could get husbands, while the boys went to learn archery and swordplay.
Very. Fucking. Unfair.
I paid the driver and got out, popping my umbrella and hurrying into the school’s administration building. The same woman Crowhurst and I had spoken to the other day was there, staring at a folder in her hands, as if she couldn’t remember why she had it in the first place.
‘Hello?’ I called out. She looked up with bloodshot eyes. I softened my tone. ‘I’d like to see Sabine. Would she be around?’
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