Chaos Broken

by Rebekah Turner

  ‘What about that time you fought a hellspawn in a dug-out pit with two Regulators?’ Crowhurst asked.

  ‘Ooh, yes.’ Nicola clapped her hands. ‘Things like that.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’ It was getting harder to breath now and spots danced across my vision. ‘Why can’t you just make it up? What do you need me for?’

  Roosen hit a few low, ominous chords, as if foretelling future disaster. His fingers paused on the keys, the last note vibrating through the air. ‘What do we need you for?’ He looked over at Nicola. ‘Is she serious?’

  Nicola gave me a small, nervous smile. Crowhurst positioned himself behind Roosen and gave me two thumbs up. I realised with dawning horror that I needed to charm this fat little man, in his lace jacket and boots with toes that were far too pointy to be comfortable. He stood and approached me, heels producing a little metallic click against the floorboards. When he drew close I saw he was otherkin, with skin the colour of toffee and peaked ears. I tried to think of something charming to say and drew a blank.

  ‘Is it true you met the Defiler once?’ Roosen said.

  ‘Sort of,’ I hedged, not keen to get into that sordid story.

  ‘I’ve been trying to finish a short poem about him,’ Roosen went on. ‘The knight cursed to defend The Weald with his sword of justice.’

  ‘He certainly had a strong presence,’ I said, recalling the fight with him and his sword of fire that had nearly burned Blackgoat to the ground.

  ‘Anything else you could tell me about him?’

  ‘Uh…he was tall.’

  Roosen tapped a finger against his lip. ‘He was tall.’ He looked at Nicola. ‘She describes the Defender of The Weald as…tall.’

  Nicola folded her arms. ‘I’m sure you can make it work, Roosen. Just get to know her before you start making judgements. Lora saved my life more than once over the last year.’

  Roosen heaved a heavy sigh, as if Nicola had just asked him to give up his soul. He sat back down at the harpsichord and played out a light tune. ‘Tell me, Lora Blackgoat. Tell me about what drives you. What motivates you? What are the demons that haunt your sleep? Give me all your hopes and desires, so I may bleed on a page for you.’

  I blinked a few times, before a sharp pain shot through my chest.

  ‘Lora,’ Crowhurst said, warning in his voice.

  Without answering, I spun on my heel. If Crowhurst thought I was going to bare my soul to a total stranger, then he was out of his mind. Bursting into the foyer, I headed for the door, needing fresh air.

  ‘Lady Blackgoat?’

  Feeling more than a little frazzled, I almost pulled my sword when someone called my name. Turning, I saw a woman in an expensive dress and a complicated hairstyle I’d heard was in fashion in High Town. My chest squeezed again, reminding me I was having a heart attack, and I whirled, hurrying outside.

  ‘Lora!’

  The woman’s voice was concerned now and her heels tapped against the pavement behind me as I hurried along the street. It was too much. I couldn’t do it. Crowhurst expected too much of me. Gideon expected too much of me. Darting down a small alley, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. The heels chasing me slowed.

  ‘Lora? It’s Manika. Gorath’s wife. We met briefly at the club the other night in the Outlands.’

  My eyes flew open and one of my hands touched my work-belt as I searched her face. In the daylight, she appeared too normal to be mixed up in a sex-drenched S&M club. I tried to squint and read her aura, but my head was spinning too much to concentrate.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

  I didn’t see any weapons, and I dropped my hand. My breath was returning and the black dots had disappeared, along with the sharp feeling in my chest.

  ‘I’m fine.’ I wanted to sound in control, but the waver in my voice gave me away. I cleared my throat and tried again. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Manika waved a gloved hand back towards the theatre. ‘Nicola Grogan is my cousin. My family is helping back her new business venture.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  Her delicately painted lips curved into a smile. ‘Did you think I was just some tart that lived in Gorath’s Outland club?’

  I cleared my throat. ‘Ah, no. Of course not.’

  ‘Oh?’ Manika smiled. ‘Nicola talks a lot about you. The way she spoke of you convinced me Gorath was wrong in his assumptions about his future nemesis.’

  ‘Nemesis? Doesn’t sound like me.’ I adjusted my eyes to make Manika’s aura pop into view. Colours swirled around her head in shades of peach and lilac. She blinked at me, then smiled shyly. ‘Are you reading my aura?’

  ‘How did you know?’ I was too startled to try and deny it.

  ‘You were staring at my head and I’m pretty sure it’s not because you’re fascinated by my hairstyle,’ she said. ‘Nicola told me what you could do and I just got the weirdest feeling.’

  ‘Sorry. I had to check you were on the level.’ I pinched the bridge of my nose. Seems like I was bleeding secrets of late. I caught the scent of something light and floral as Manika took another step closer.

  ‘Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong? Is it about this play Nicola wants to put on?’ Her laugh was airy. ‘Gorath had a similar reaction. He swore to burn down the theatre, until I pointed out it had nothing to do with him. He’s quite fond of you.’

  ‘I’m sure he told you about the first time he and I met,’ I said carefully.

  ‘Regretful.’ All lightness dropped from her voice. ‘But I made him see. Forced him to face the fact he had believed a lie, fed to him by another.’

  ‘I suppose I should say thank you.’

  She laughed. ‘I didn’t do it for you. My reasons were selfish. I could see the good man inside and I wanted him. So I worked hard at catching his attention, then making him see.’ She gave me a wink. ‘That’s what us women do, isn’t it? Fix our men?’

  ‘If you say so,’ I murmured. It felt petty to point out that being broken wasn’t a man’s domain. I ran a hand through my curls. ‘Manika, I really just want to be left alone.’

  ‘Of course you do.’ Sympathy filled her face. ‘It’s what most people want.’

  ‘Then can you explain it to Nicola?’ I asked. ‘Because I’m pretty sure she won’t understand.’

  Manika shook her head. ‘Oh no. She won’t. She comes from a privileged background, so sometimes it’s hard for her to imagine how some people would not crave fame and money.’

  ‘I crave money, alright,’ I muttered. ‘My business needs it badly.’

  ‘Then do the stupid play.’ Manika held up a hand to halt my protests. ‘But control the information. Tell them fantastic stories. Embrace the legend. Make it something more.’ She paused, letting this sink in. ‘But control it. Tell white lies, alter the facts. Get your company out of its financial woes. Be the heroine.’

  ‘Hero,’ I corrected.

  Manika patted my arm. ‘Of course you are.’

  Chapter 13

  After returning to the theatre, I found Crowhurst by his car, waiting. Apparently Roosen had left in disgust, declaring he wouldn’t work with me. With Manika’s words echoing in my head, I assured Crowhurst I wasn’t backing out on the deal and would find Roosen and make nice.

  The rest of the day was spent at Blackgoat Watch. A few meetings with potential clients, after which I was thankful Crowhurst announced he had other plans and left. I didn’t need him shooting death glares at me about the debacle at the theatre that morning. I needed time to think. The picture of Seth sat heavy in my belt pocket and every now and then I pulled it out to stare at it. I’d heard Seth had moved to a High Town residence and, after paying extra coin to a Mercury boy to find out the exact address, I sent a message asking Seth for a meeting.

  My last appointment of the day was with Blackgoat’s accountant, who declared our situation unsustainable unless the company’s cash flow increased. As if it wasn’t all I’d been thinking about the la
st few weeks. I kept my sarcasm to a minimum and, after the accountant had left, I shooed out a group of Runners who were getting drunk in the kitchen, and locked Blackgoat’s front door for the night.

  Though it was a long walk and the evening sky threatened rain, I ambled home, picking up a dragon-fruit curry on the way. My eyes were peeled for Roman, but I didn’t see his familiar figure in the crowds and I hoped Casper had come to take him back to the Outlands. Right now, I had enough drama in my life. Roman in Harken, with the Grigori looking for him, was an extra complication I didn’t need.

  As I reached my front door, I spied a streetwalker leaving the house next door, tucking money into her corset.

  ‘That time already?’ I asked. Monthly protection fees were an evil necessity in Applecross and those who didn’t fork out the money paid in other, more violent ways.

  She gave a low chuckle. ‘I’m not collecting protection fees from you.’

  ‘Why not?’ I asked. I’d always paid, ever since I’d moved in. Even Gideon and Orella paid. It was just the way things worked in Applecross.

  The streetwalker leaned a shoulder against the trunk of the giant ash tree. ‘Word is you’re to be left alone,’ she said. ‘Word is, you’re a friend of the big boss himself.’

  ‘That’s the word, is it?’ The heat from the curry container was starting to burn my hands, but I ignored it. ‘You hear any other words?’

  Her eyes flicked to the graffiti that still marked my house. ‘None I’d want to repeat,’ she answered shortly, then she strolled to the next house, hips rolling.

  Wondering what secrets she knew, I let myself into the house. I was relieved I wasn’t going to have to scratch around for some extra money, but I wondered what it was really going to cost me. Locking the door, I ate at the kitchen table, listening to the silence of the house and feeling more than a little lonely.

  Once the curry was finished, I retrieved the two copies of the Aldebaran. I didn’t have any marshmallows to celebrate the occasion, but I knew I’d put off burning the books long enough. Though it was my master plan to rid the world of these grimoires that needed my blood to bring to life the terrible spells inside, I suddenly felt a certain reluctance to destroy them. Wondering if it was because one of them symbolised an act of trust from someone who thought he was my half-brother, I went through the motion of stacking fresh logs in the fireplace. Reminding myself that I didn’t exactly trust Gorath, I struck a match and lit the wood. After a good fire was crackling away I hesitated only a second before throwing the first book on the flames. Instinct made me step back and tense. I had been expecting a flurry of spark, or at least some unearthly, demonic screaming. But all I heard was the crackle of paper as the book blackened and burned. Sighing with relief, I picked up the second book. Opening it, I tore out the page that outlined the prophecy of the Dreadwitch and Howling King. I’d tried to read it a few times, but had gotten bored after the first few lines; the wording was too obtuse for me to follow. Maybe I’d try again, I reasoned, before tossing the second book on the fire.

  Sitting back down, I stared at the pages. The script was hard to read, and as soon as I hit the word perfidiousness my eyes glazed and I knew I needed a dictionary.

  A knock on my door was a welcome distraction and I gladly shoved the pages down the side of the couch cushion. A Mercury boy stood on my doorstep, hat in one hand and an envelope in the other.

  ‘Hang on.’ Thinking it was Seth’s reply to my request for a sit-down, I returned to the kitchen where I’d left my work-belt flung over a chair. Returning with some coins, I found the Mercury boy sweating and looking nervous. He passed me an envelope and I held out my hand to give him the coins. When he reached for them, I grabbed his wrist in a tight grip.

  ‘Something wrong?’ I asked. ‘You looked worried.’

  ‘Get off me,’ he squeaked. ‘Lemme go, lemme go.’

  His little goblin face was so panicked that guilt made me release him, and he darted off before I could give him his payment. I ripped open the envelope and unfolded the letter inside. A pigtail the colour of apricot sat in the folds, one word scrawled on the page.

  Pendergrast.

  There was no signature or indication of where the letter had come from. But the small drop of blood at the bottom of the page was a rather ominous sign. The word didn’t leave any room for misunderstandings either. After all, the Church of Saint Pendergrast now stood in rubble after I’d battled a hellspawn there.

  Back in the kitchen, I threw my hooded coat back on and secured my work-belt over it. Guess my quiet night at home was shot to shit, since now I was going on an adventure to the one place I never wanted to revisit. But I knew who the pigtail belonged to and I’d be damned if I’d just sit at home and let an innocent die.

  Chapter 14

  The last time I’d been at the Church of Saint Pendergrast I’d been helping the City Watch figure out how the church collapsed. A summoned hellspawn, free of its Calling Circle, had done the damage. But since that scenario was technically impossible, the City Watch was understandably resistant to the idea. Hundreds had witnessed the fight that destroyed dozens of buildings between the church and Avalon Square, but the official report described it as a darkcraft riot, and I’d grown tired of trying to set the record straight.

  Alighting from the rickshaw one street over from my destination, I walked the rest of the way. A street lamp lit the crumbling pillars of the ruined church gate, and inside the yard the weeds brushed against my coat as I walked up the pathway and into the ruins.

  Before me, crumbling brick buttresses loomed in the darkness like the exposed ribs of some massive, broken corpse. Flickering light from the street lamp broke through the darkness at the heart of the beast, but revealed nothing but rubble.

  Heart galloping, I was thankful I’d sent a message to Crowhurst before leaving, requesting urgent back-up. I sent up a prayer to the Mother-Goddess Kianna that he wouldn’t be too long. It was bloody obvious I was walking into a trap, and I had grabbed extra weapons to be ready for it. My hand were already full of salt and my spring-loaded rig was strapped to my arm. The vial of elixir that Fowler had given me was secured in one of my belt pockets and a throwing dagger was sheathed down my bra. I inched forward, going through the list of people who might have kidnapped Sabine to bring me here. Kalin sat at the top.

  A weak light drew me around one broken partition and I spied a tiny ball of light bouncing in the air. And then, Sabine. She’d been tied to a chair and her body was slumped, head bent forward, her chin resting on her chest. Around the chair was a Calling Circle that closely resembled the one I’d seen around Poulter’s body. The symbols were difficult to clearly make out from where I was crouched, but I saw enough to realise they were a series of numbers stacked close together like a madman’s scribble.

  ‘You came.’

  Kalin emerged from the deep shadows behind Sabine. He held a rusty-looking sword, and was followed by a few of the goons I’d meet in the playground, all armed with flintlocks and wooden clubs.

  I leant forward on my cane. ‘My, my. Is this what kids do these days for shits and giggles?’ I nodded at the Calling Circle. ‘Torturing young girls with mathematics? You are truly a sadistic little bastard.’

  Kalin grinned and my heart wrenched; I could see Seth in that look. I wondered again why he had been left in the orphanage. I didn’t know what Kalin wanted here tonight, but I knew I didn’t want to kill kids. Hellfires, I didn’t want to kill anyone. And regardless of who Seth was to me now, I couldn’t hurt his own flesh and blood. My eyes settled on Sabine, relieved to see her chest rise and fall. Maybe it wouldn’t come to that.

  ‘I knew you’d come,’ Kalin said. ‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist playing the hero.’

  ‘Sure, kid. You got me pegged.’ I nodded at Sabine. ‘Want to tell me what this is all about and why you killed Poulter?’

  Kalin twirled the old sword easily in his hand. ‘I admit, I killed the old woman first because sh
e was always a bitch to me in school. Made my life miserable. But her sacrifice was not without reason. Just like the ones to come. All the sacrifices will be necessary in order for the transformation to take place.’

  ‘Transformation, eh?’ My eyes dropped to the circle surrounding Sabine. ‘For you? Or are we speaking existentially? Throw me a bone here, kid.’

  ‘Stop calling me kid.’ An oddly hollow sound rang out as Kalin stabbed the sword point into the stony ground. My eyes ran over the blade critically, wondering why he was carting it around. It had a tarnished blade and crusty bronze hilt, nothing special; as a magical icon it didn’t ring any bells.

  Kalin stared at me as if he was trying to make up his mind. He didn’t look ready to tell me why we were here and I had a terrible feeling he was simply going to kill Sabine, then go for me. Perhaps bringing me here was just to get me in line as the next sacrifice for this ‘transformation’.

  ‘Why did you want to meet here?’ I tried. ‘This place have some special meaning to you?’

  ‘It is a place of great power,’ Kalin replied. ‘A hot spot of the ley-lines. Any spell performed here will feed on that energy.’

  ‘What spell are we talking about? Because if you’re thinking of raising a hellspawn to make some sort of bargain, let me warn you, they’ll lie their little black hearts out.’

  ‘I wouldn’t waste my time on such petty bargains.’ Kalin paused to spit on the ground. ‘And don’t bother asking. I won’t be sharing my secrets.’

  ‘But I already know at least one of your secrets.’ I kept my voice low, threaded with steel and took a guess. ‘Seth Hallow is your father, isn’t he? I found the picture you’d hidden in a hidey hole at the orphanage, under your bed.’

  An uncertain look washed over Kalin’s face. ‘How do you know it was mine?’

  ‘Because you look exactly like him,’ I said blandly. ‘Do you think I’m Seth’s enemy? Is that why you’re doing this?’

  ‘Maybe.’ His face was stony.

  ‘Does Seth know you’re practising darkcraft?’