Chaos Broken

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Chaos Broken Page 20

by Rebekah Turner


  I spied blood on Roman’s hands and ordered him to go upstairs to clean up. When he’d gone, I laid a blanket over Casper, then tended to the fire.

  ‘Things are going to go badly.’ Casper’s words slurred. ‘We all believe in Roman, but I’m not sure what he wants is possible.’

  I turned from the fire. ‘What do you believe now?’

  ‘That he needs you.’ Casper’s eyes fluttered close. ‘He needs you and the Wizard on his side. He can’t do it alone.’

  I watched as his face relaxed into sleep, then eased the bottle of gin from his grasp. What Casper didn’t realise was that Seth and I no longer had a strong bond of friendship and he wasn’t coming to anyone’s aid, except his own. After all, he’d even left his son out to dry.

  When Roman stepped back into the room, I motioned for him to follow me into the kitchen. Turning on the light, I put away the gin and washed my hands, then sat down at the table. Roman leaned against the bench, big arms folded. He’d taken off his cloak and his wings shifted, stretching out a little before settling behind him.

  ‘What’s your plan?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  I narrowed my eyes. ‘You aren’t cooking up some crazy idea to solve this?’

  The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Aren’t crazy ideas your area of expertise? I think I prefer a good strategic approach.’

  ‘At least my crazy ideas always work,’ I huffed.

  The rest of the tension in his face drained away as he smiled. ‘They work because no one sees it coming, right?’

  ‘That’s right.’ I leaned back in my chair. ‘You’re going to have to return to the Outlands. It’s the one place the Grigori won’t follow you.’

  ‘You think I should run?’

  ‘You could call it a strategic retreat, if it made you feel better.’ I held up my hand, to count off his very limited choices. ‘You could retreat to fight another day. Or you could put out a war cry and involve the nephilim of Harken in a bloody civil war.’ I wiggled that finger about. ‘But of course, that option would lead this city into anarchy, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Sometimes things are too broken to go on, Lora,’ Roman said. ‘And they have to be destroyed before you can rebuild them.’

  My hand dropped, along with my jaw. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘Don’t you see, Lora?’ Roman said. ‘The High Grigori has thrown the gauntlet down. He wants to rule this city with an iron fist. Things will never be the way they were.’

  He crossed the kitchen and knelt in front of me. When he spoke again, his voice was hushed. ‘The Grigori will rule this city, unless the people break their hold of power. Everyone will be in danger. Everyone. Not just those like the darkwitch they burned in the town square today, but anyone who has ever dabbled. Then it will be anyone who’s otherkin. Then anyone who doesn’t follow their faith.’

  ‘Roman,’ I said softly, wanting to voice some sort of protest. But I knew he spoke the truth, because it echoed my own fear. As a little girl, I knew the Grigori were to be greatly feared, as were the bloodthirsty Regulators who served them. As I got to know people like Fowler and Roman, I had learned that while they still believed passionately in their cause and I didn’t agree with their belief system, they weren’t completely evil and there was no black and white in life.

  I tried to think of what Gideon would do. I had a responsibility to those under my charge, and by aligning myself with Roman I would be endangering their lives. But if I just stood aside and did nothing? The image of Andela burning scorched through my mind, but this time I imagined it was Orella there, crying out as the fire burned her flesh.

  ‘Is there a plan?’ I asked.

  Roman’s hands stroked my legs, his touch heavy and warm. ‘The violence the High Grigori threatens this city with demands immediate action. My men will come, along with those who followed Gorath, and with Seth’s help, we will drive them from this city.’ He stared down at his hands as they moved to my waist, holding me. ‘We will show all Grigori that they can no longer imprison us and treat us like slaves.’ The words were torn raw from his throat and at that moment, my heart wept for him. For the pain he had suffered in the past and the pain that was to come. I leaned forward, cupping his face and staring into the deep abyss of his dark eyes.

  ‘I will always stand with you,’ I told him, then leaned forward to brush my lips against his. Roman’s breath hitched and I reached up to curl my hands around his powerful neck. I kissed him again, this time my tongue gently parting his lips. Roman’s hands tightened around my waist as he opened his mouth and the kiss deepened, our bodies locking together.

  After a few moments he broke away from me, breathless. His gaze was heavy and searching, as if I was something incredible, something precious.

  ‘What?’ One of my hands left his neck, going to my hair, wondering if I had something in it. Roman caught it, cupping it gently as he brought it to his lips.

  ‘I need you,’ he whispered as he kissed my palm. ‘I could not survive without you.’

  My throat closed up at his heartfelt words. Then Roman stood and pulled me to my feet. He smoothed my hair down and I rested my head against his chest, enjoying the warm, familiar scent of him. I realised then how badly I’d missed him. How I felt whole around him.

  ‘I love you,’ I said, and just like that, I gave him all my heart.

  Roman didn’t reply, just stepped back. He stared at me for a moment and I suddenly worried I’d overplayed my hand. Then he turned and pulled me from the kitchen and towards the stairs. I glanced at Casper as we went, seeing the nephilim had begun to snore, one hand hanging loosely off the couch.

  Upstairs, Roman ushered me into my bedroom and closed the door behind us. His gaze never left me, and I moved instinctively away. He still hadn’t said anything about my confession and a nasty thought surfaced. Did he want to distract me, so he didn’t have to answer?

  ‘Come here,’ he told me.

  All snarky retorts deserting me, I stepped to him, heart racing. He reached for me and gently opened my dressing gown, warm hands cupping my breasts. Leaning forward, he laced my skin with small kisses, thumbs caressing my nipples.

  Filled with a sudden, desperate need, I tried to relieve him of his shirt, pausing when I realised it was a little tricky with wings. Roman helped me, almost ripping the material as he freed himself and with deep, desperate kisses, we stumbled back to the bed, Roman kicking off his boots and pants as he went. Laughing as he stumbled with one shoe, we fell back on the bed, arms wrapped around each other. As he eased himself between my legs, his wings stretched out their full span, my vision framed by clouds of soft downy feathers.

  One of his hands reached down to between my thighs, sending small charges off in my head, and my need for him turned urgent. He kissed my neck, fingers moving methodically, caressing me until my breath drew short and an aching tension took hold. His hips rocked hard against me and I could feel the hot length of him press against my inner thigh. As I drew close to release, he removed his hand and pushed himself deep inside of me with a ragged breath. My body surged with a wicked heat as I flew apart, crying out his name, and Roman gave a throaty rumble of approval. Then he took me in a fierce rhythm, marking me, claiming me, and I knew then that if I’d felt damned in the past, Roman’s love would be my salvation.

  Chapter 32

  I woke before Roman, the frosty morning air nipping my face. It was hard to gather the will to slip out of Roman’s arms, but I needed to check on Casper. My lame leg ached with the cold; so did other, more delicate, parts of me, and I had to stifle a schoolgirl chuckle. It had been some time since I’d been laid and I felt a little rusty.

  Keeping quiet so I didn’t wake Roman, I secured my bad leg with a stiff Velcro brace I’d bought in the Outlands, then dressed in faded jeans, a dark shirt and a corset with four throwing knives hidden in the lining down my spine.

  Downstairs, Casper was still sleeping, so I limped into the kitchen to make co
ffee. I’d finished making a fresh pot by the time Roman came downstairs. I heard him wake Casper, before he joined me in the kitchen.

  ‘Are you alright?’ He kissed the side of my head.

  ‘Yes.’ I handed him a coffee. ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘We’re going to get out of here,’ Casper said, walking into the kitchen and wincing as he pulled on his torn shirt. ‘We’ve got to regroup. Right now, we’re too vulnerable.’

  ‘How are you feeling?’ I asked him.

  Casper poured himself a coffee. ‘This body has seen worse damage.’

  ‘I know of a safehold a few blocks back from the harbour,’ Roman told me. ‘We’ll go there and send word to our own.’

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ I said firmly.

  ‘No.’ Roman shook his head. ‘Casper and I will go alone. I’ll send for you later if I think it’s safe for you.’

  ‘Casper is hurt, you need my help,’ I protested.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Casper said. ‘Honestly, it’s going to be easier if just Roman and I go.’

  I opened my mouth to protest some more, when I spied the consternation on Roman’s face.

  ‘Lora.’ He said my name like it was a plea. ‘I need to be able to focus and I won’t be able to if you’re there. Please, don’t argue with me on this.’

  ‘Fine. When you put it like that,’ I murmured. Roman brought me in for a tight embrace.

  ‘You have to promise me you’ll be careful,’ he whispered.

  ‘I will,’ I said, taking the warm scent of him deep into my lungs. It broke my heart that he had to leave and it worried me he that intended to stay in Harken. But I understood why. If he left now, who knew what this city would become under the rigid rule of the High Grigori?

  After they’d left, I pottered about the house, worried and elated at the same time. Last night with Roman had been all that I’d been hoping for and more. The connection I felt with him had washed away all my doubts about our relationship. A bond had been created and it was secure and strong. Whatever was going to happen, we’d face it together.

  Since I had no appointments for the day, my own agenda consisted of checking in on Nicola and Roosen. I caught a rickshaw to the theatre and paid the driver extra to wait a few minutes at one end of the street, while I surveyed the area to see if they were being watched. When I was satisfied there was no one suspicious around, I got out and made my way down. Roosen was waiting for me out the front of the building, puffing on a pipe. He appeared calm, his black eye just light purple bruising now.

  ‘There you are, my dear.’ He extinguished the pipe, tapped out the ash and walked inside with me. ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t forget about me. For the first time in weeks, I feel like my old self. I’m finally ready to put together this wondrous play of yours.’

  My eyes scanned the theatre, seeing the painters and carpenters finishing off their projects. ‘Where’s Nicola?’

  ‘In the back. She said she’d be with you in a moment.’

  ‘I need to talk to her.’ I started towards the back when Roosen grabbed my arm. He gave me the slightest shake of his head.

  ‘She is with a Grigori priest, my dear Lady Blackgoat.’ He gestured to a table and chair set up by the entrance. ‘Therefore, I would suggest you and I hammer out the final details.’

  I swallowed. ‘Why is she with a Grigori?’

  ‘I don’t know, but she will be out soon enough and can tell us then.’

  I followed Roosen to the table and sat stiffly in the chair, my alarm rising. Perhaps Regulators were grilling her for information about Roman? Did they have proof she had helped him? Proof of her connection with Gorath and Manika? There were enough lines they could draw that would connect Nicola to Roman and one big fat line came from me.

  ‘Until Nicola rejoins us, perhaps you could tell me about your latest case.’ Roosen had produced a pencil and his writing book.

  I passed a weary hand over my eyes. ‘Haven’t I given you enough material?’

  He gave me a tight smile. ‘Indulge me, will you?’

  ‘Alright,’ I sighed. ‘How’s this? I’ve been tracking a psychopath who’s been killing people inside circles of high-magic.’

  ‘Interesting.’ Roosen scribbled into his book. ‘The audience always loves a good villain. Tell me more about him.’

  I sketched out Kalin’s background and his odd little battle slogan about a man rising. Roosen tapped his pencil against his bottom lip.

  ‘How very interesting. You know, there is a very old play, called the King of Wolves. There’s a wondrous score in the third act, called He is Rising.’

  ‘I’ve not seen it. Not much of a theatre-goer myself.’

  ‘The story is about a man who sets about to resurrect an old god from slumber.’

  ‘Which god?’ I asked.

  ‘A very, very old god from the Pit. I don’t remember the name. In the height of his power, he commanded huge armies of hellspawn. He supposedly impregnated a human woman many eons ago, who bore him sons who were the founding fathers of the griorwolves. Then, one day, he was betrayed by his closest friends, jealous of his power. The legend goes that he now simply slumbers, until he is called forth again to regain his old power. I have a copy somewhere here, if you wanted to read it.’

  ‘I’ll take you up on that,’ I said, an ominous chill running down my spine. The story sounded familiar to one I’d heard before. ‘I’d like to check something.’

  ‘Of course.’ Roosen gave me a gentle smile. ‘Do you really think this villain of yours is looking to resurrect an ancient god?’

  ‘I never like to rule out the impossible,’ I said. ‘Probably it would be best if I just find this kid and…’ I trailed off, because I still wasn’t sure what I’d do with Kalin when I found him. If I managed to subdue him and drag him to the City Watch, what would they do? Throw him into the deepest dungeon, away from any magical influences? Was that justice for what he did to Poulter? Or tried to do to Sabine? After all, I’d already tried to kill the kid and it hadn’t taken.

  ‘Here she is.’ Roosen rose to his feet, looking at the stage. I followed his gaze to see Nicola walking out, flanked by Grigori Fowler and a stiff-backed Thesma Regulator. Nicola was smiling, but her eyes were strained. I limped forward, my eyes shifting from the Regulator I didn’t know to the Grigori that I did. Or thought I did.

  ‘Lora, how lovely to see you,’ Nicola greeted me. ‘I was just having a lovely chat with Grigori Fowler here. Apparently nephilim of interest to the Grigori have been seen in this vicinity.’ She inclined her head towards Fowler. ‘Naturally, if we see anything, we are to report it immediately to the Order.’

  Fowler gave her a short bow. ‘Thank you. Please remember to be careful. These are dangerous times.’

  Nicola’s eyes widened. ‘Do you think I should hire some private guards?’

  ‘You cannot be too careful,’ Fowler said.

  ‘We should go,’ the Regulator said from behind him.

  I frowned at Fowler, silently asking why a Regulator was telling him what to do. The priest didn’t reply, just brushed past me, the Regulator close behind. Nicola was saying something to me, but I was too intent on watching Fowler leave the building to focus on her words. The Regulator kept close, one hand on the wheellock at his belt, almost as if he was expecting an attack. Or Fowler to make a break for it. Which made no sense.

  ‘Lora?’

  I turned to see Nicola’s smile had dropped. ‘The Order suspects something.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’ I asked.

  ‘What do you think I told him?’ Nicola replied. ‘That I knew nothing.’

  ‘Fowler isn’t the one I’m worried about,’ I said. ‘But the Thesma Regulator with him is another matter. Do you think you were convincing enough?’

  ‘Yes.’ Nicola sounded confident. ‘And I believe I will be giving my acting instructor a raise.’

  ‘You need to lay low,’ I said. ‘You and your baby need to go so
mewhere safe until this blows over.’

  ‘I know. I will.’ Nicola looked stricken. ‘I’ll shut things down until this resolves. How bad do you think things are going get?’

  My fingers curled around the vial Fowler had slipped into my hand when he’d brushed past. I’d be willing to bet it was Apertor Elixir, which meant he knew trouble was coming. My eyes met Nicola’s as I tucked the vial into my corset.

  ‘Things are going to get pretty fucking bad.’

  Chapter 33

  After Roosen furbished me with a copy of King of Wolves, I caught a rickshaw and headed back to Blackgoat. As we drove through the deserted streets, I flipped through the pages of the play, scanning the text and half-listening to my driver grumble about revenue being down. I saw what he meant. People scurried back and forth from doorways and hurried down the streets, heads bowed. The driver bitched and moaned about the rain being the cause of it, but I saw his furtive glances left and right, keeping a close eye on his surroundings. He was afraid, and it pissed me off that things were slipping into fear so easily. This was my home and Laeonder was pissing all over it, which would not do. I wouldn’t stand for it. Not on my watch.

  Getting out of the rickshaw, I paid my fare and was about to close the play when my eyes fell on what I’d been looking for: the name of the old god and father of griorwolves. Lips thinning, I marched down Abraham’s Alley, my thoughts a howling whirlwind of possibilities. The sound of shouting coming from Blackgoat stopped me in my tracks, and in the distance I spied Crowhurst arguing with two Thesma Regulators outside Blackgoat’s door. Before I could get close enough to hear what they were saying, hands pulled me into a shop front. When I saw it was Grubber, I stopped reaching for the knives at my back.

  ‘Thesma Regulators are looking for you,’ Grubber said.

  The shop door behind us opened and the owner jerked a thumb for us to come inside. ‘Go out the back.’ He pointed the way and Grubber pulled me along.

  ‘What do they want?’ I asked him.

  ‘Don’t know, but something got Crowhurst’s back up, and I heard your name being mentioned, so I thought I’d better warn you off.’

 

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