Chaos Broken (13 page)

Flinging the mixture towards the shadows, I barked out a hefty knock-'em-out hex. Brilliant lights winked, then spun into a swirling vortex. The air thickened and Kalin's boys stared up with stunned looks, which was kind of how I felt, because this wasn't how the spell was supposed to go. I could almost
feel
the knot of ley-lines heave and flex under my feet.

‘What are you doing?' Kalin demanded.

‘Hot spot,' I said. ‘Remember?'

Then the spell ignited with a ripple of power, sending out shockwaves of iridescent light, and my body flew back into darkness.

As I struggled back to consciousness, I realised someone was slapping my face. I made an indignant squawk and struggled.

‘Stop fucking hitting me, Lora. And keep your mouth shut. There are Regulators everywhere.'

I recognised Cloete's voice and relaxed a fraction, though all I could see was darkness. Then I realised I was on the ground, surrounded by a terrible stench. I gagged and sat up. There was shuffling beside me as Cloete moved back. A sprinkling of cold rain kissed my skin as I rolled my neck, trying to orientate myself. We looked to be deep in an alleyway, a sliver of night sky above us.

Cloete helped me up, then held out my cane. ‘Managed to pick this up. Thought you might need it.'

I took it gratefully. ‘What happened?'

‘ Someone cast a fucking huge darkcraft spell,' Cloete said. ‘Half a dozen Witch Hunter units are crawling the streets. It was just luck I got to you before they did.'

‘Did you see a kid with a sword? Or a young girl?' My chest pinched as I thought about having left Sabine behind with Kalin.

‘Didn't see a kid with a sword. But I overheard some Regulators saying they pulled a girl from the rubble.' Cloete gestured for me to follow and we hurried down the street. I was dizzy and disorientated, and struggled to keep up. I didn't recognise the neighbourhood, which seemed to be mostly bakeries and fruit markets closed up for the night. A gas lamp cast a murky light, and in the dimness I spied wet blood on Cloete's face.

‘Are you hurt?' I asked.

‘Not me,' she said. ‘But your hand wouldn't stop bleeding. I tied a cloth around it, but I'm not sure how clean it was.'

‘Thanks. I think.' I flexed my throbbing hand, bound tight.

‘We're still too close to Pendergrast,' Cloete said. ‘We need to keep moving.'

‘Where's Crowhurst?'

‘He was out. I got your message instead.'

‘Did the Regulators get anyone else?'

‘Sorry. Didn't see,' Cloete said. ‘I was too busy getting you out.'

Limping behind Cloete, I realised my boots were sticking to the cobblestones and there was something plastered to the side of my face. Peeling it off, I discovered a cabbage leaf. As I started to check myself for other rotting refuse, Cloete's tail snapped impatiently.

‘We don't have time for a beauty check, princess,' she said.

‘Did you roll me in a pile of garbage?'

‘I didn't know it was there. It was as good a hiding place as any.' Cloete pursed her lips. ‘You're not exactly a light weight, you know.'

Some wax paper was stuck to my back and I brushed it off before giving up. I'd just have to scrub myself clean and burn my clothes.

‘Sorry,' I muttered. ‘And thanks for getting me out.'

Cloete grunted in response and we continued down the street, keeping to the shadows. I'd been lucky, really. The darkcraft spell had belonged to me and any Witch Hunter worth their salt would have sniffed its thick, sweet scent on me. The Regulators would have hauled me off to the Order, and not even Fowler would have been able to pull me out of that mess.

I finally recognised my surroundings, pinpointing our location near the harbour. From here, it was at least a fifteen-minute hike to Blackgoat. My bad leg gave a tremor at the thought.

‘Hold up,' I called out. Cloete paused mid-stride and stepped back alongside me, scanning the dark street. A group of sailors meandered down the one side, singing a sea shanty, and on the other side a streetwalker was engaged in a heated negotiation with an anxious-looking customer. The light rain had stopped and I could hear the sounds of a tavern nearby.

‘What is it?' Cloete sounded impatient. ‘I don't know if you realise, but we need to get out of sight before the Witch Hunter units turn up.'

‘Yeah, yeah,' I muttered, before my attention latched onto a man loitering outside an old opium den that I knew had been shut down last year. He wore a hood but was slouched in way that seemed familiar. Squinting, I tried to bring the aura into focus, but got only a grey cloud that stung my eyes. I grabbed Cloete's arm and pulled her along.

‘What are you doing?' she asked. ‘This isn't the way we should be going.'

But the sound of approaching horses silenced further complaint. The hooded man had also straightened and was staring our way.

‘Lora?' Casper sounded like he couldn't believe it was me. I knew how he felt. ‘What are you doing here?'

‘Trying to avoid trouble,' I said. ‘Guess you came here, chasing after Roman?'

Casper's lips thinned. ‘Guess so.'

Mounted Regulators turned the corner and Casper quickly shoved us through the den's entry. My hand hit the door as we went and I gave a hiss of pain, cradling it against my chest. Cloete's makeshift bandage had soaked through and blood was now dripping down my arm.

The room was dark, save for a candle on a small table, illuminating six men in thick cloaks with the hoods pulled low. A few looked up and I recognised them from Casper's compound. A staircase led down to a basement and Casper beckoned us that way. As we went down, Cloete muttered something unflattering under her breath that I suspected was about frying pans and fires.

We ended up in a long room with stone columns and a barrel ceiling. Roman sat at a table in the middle. The way my night was going, I almost expected to see Seth as well. But to my surprise, Roman's companion was Grigori Fowler.

Roman shot to his feet. ‘Lora. What are you doing here?'

‘Playing hide-and-seek with some Regulators,' I said. ‘I recognised Casper on the street and thought he could help us.'

Fowler stood also, eyes dropping to my hand. ‘You're hurt.'

Roman strode to my side and pried my hand away from my chest, unravelling the makeshift bandage. ‘What happened?'

‘Just a cut.' My voice was tight as fresh pain shot up my arm. It might not have been serious, but it hurt like all hell.

‘Who did this? The Regulators?' Roman slipped a hand around the small of my back and guided me to a chair. He settled beside me, unwrapping the cloth and examining my hand by the flickering light of a candle.

‘No. Just some thugs,' I said quickly before Cloete could speak. She didn't know much, but I didn't want her to mention anything about Kalin. Cloete leaned against the wall, trying to look unconcerned about being tucked up in a room containing a nephilim with wings and a Grigori priest. Casper reappeared, holding what looked like a rolled first-aid kit.

‘A few Regulators are loitering around the neighbourhood,' he murmured as he passed the roll to Roman. ‘I'd almost say they know we're here and are trying to be polite.'

‘Polite?' Roman glanced up from laying out the kit on the table.

‘Yeah. Polite. You know, instead of attacking us.'

‘They want to talk to you,' Fowler said to Roman. ‘Word has spread among the nephilim, just as I predicted. You need to talk to them. Let them see you aren't the monster the other Grigori paint you as.'

Roman frowned. ‘How did they know how to find us?'

‘Because nephilim gossip like old women.' Casper sighed. ‘Which is why this plan to rush back to The Weald to test Seth and Gorath's theory stinks and we should go home and prepare properly for this.'

‘He is right,' Fowler said. ‘You shouldn't stay here long, my son. Things here are volatile.'

I blinked in surprise at the affectionate term. Seemed despite everything, Fowler and Roman were still on civil terms.

‘Tell them I'll come out and talk in a moment,' Roman said.

Casper nodded and motioned to Fowler. ‘Follow me. There's a back way you can take. I'll arrange for you to be escorted back to the Order.'

Fowler paused beside me. ‘You look tired, Lora.'

‘Ain't that the truth,' I said.

‘You need to rest more.' Fowler's nose wrinkled. ‘And perhaps take a bath. Why do you smell so ungodly awful?'

‘Sorry about that. What can I say, my life is weird.'

Roman squirted some liquid onto a cloth and started cleaning my hand. I hissed at the sting and he rolled his eyes.

‘I've seen you hurt worse and not make a sound.'

‘This here is a legitimate wound.' My eyes cut to Fowler. ‘I was in a tussle with a darkcraft user at the Church of Saint Pendergrast before a Witch Hunter unit showed up. A girl got mixed up in it. Her name's Sabine. Could you do me a favour and make sure she's released into Captain Caleb Haskett's care? I don't want her hassled too much. She's a sweet kid.'

‘Pendergrast?' Fowler asked. ‘A familiar place for you.'

‘Yeah,' I sighed. ‘I wasn't there by choice.'

‘I will look out for your friend, Sabine.'

‘You have my thanks on that.'

‘Time to go.' Casper jerked a thumb at the exit. ‘I need to get back to our unexpected visitors. In case they get impatient and decide to come in unannounced.'

As they left, Roman unscrewed a small jar and smeared a dab of cream over the deep cut in my hand. A familiar peppermint smell met my nose and some of the pain retreated instantly, a comfortable numbness spreading in its place.

‘You've got Bishop's Balm?' I asked. ‘I've been trying to get some of that for months.'

Roman replaced the lid and handed me the tiny jar. ‘I've got good contacts. Keep it, so you can put some more on tomorrow. You can give it back to me later.'

I didn't argue and pocketed the jar. While Roman secured a clean bandage around my hand, I got Cloete's attention and jerked my head in a meaningful way towards the door. She cleared her throat and tried to sound casual.

‘Right, well, I think I'll just go upstairs and wait for you.'

‘I won't be long,' I said.

Her lips thinned. ‘You'd better not.'

After she'd left, I turned back to Roman. ‘So.'

Roman eyes were fixed on the kit he was packing. ‘So.'

‘Want to tell me why you're having clandestine meetings with a Grigori priest?' I asked.

‘It's a private matter, Lora.'

He went to stand, but I stopped him with my good hand. ‘If it's something that concerns you, it has everything to do with me.'

‘I have to go.' Roman sat back, eyes guarded. ‘If Regulators come in here, you could be taken and I won't be able to stop them without things turning bloody.'

I saw tiredness in his face and regretted the distance that had grown between us this past year. I knew it had been a case of me being reluctant to take our relationship further, reluctant to recognise that I was afraid of my feelings for him. I leant forward and snaked a hand around his strong neck, pressing my lips against his. His eyes widened in surprise and when I pulled back, he looked cautious.

‘What was that for?' he asked.

I shrugged, my eyes dropping to the table. ‘I miss you.'

Roman gave me a small smile, then his face fell into a grimace. ‘You smell really bad, Lora.'

‘I'm sure you love me, regardless,' I said airily, then fell silent. There. I'd said the
L
word, even if it was half-jokingly.
Now…say that you love him
, I chanted to myself,
say you love him
. I swallowed and opened my mouth, ready to confess.

‘Roman!' Casper called from the top of the stairs. ‘If you and Lora are finished canoodling, you're needed up here. The natives are getting restless.'

The words had already died in my throat. I realised that sitting there, stinking like a pile of human garbage, while people lined up to talk to Roman, was hardly the time to start a heart-to-heart about my feelings. But Roman ignored Casper and watched me, the cautious look back in his face.

‘You were going to say something?' he asked.

I shook my head. ‘How long before you're going back? Casper seems mighty nervous.'

‘He's angry I came here. He wanted us to send volunteer groups first.' Roman lifted a shoulder and I saw one of his wings roll under his coat. ‘But I couldn't wait, or put another in danger. And now I'm here, it feels like I never left.'

‘Sure. I get that.' Rising to my feet, I threw him some dimples. ‘You go and talk to your brothers. Just maybe look me up before you leave, okay?'

A small smile playing on his lips. ‘I intend to.'

Casper offered us an escort, but Cloete and I declined on the basis that Cloete thought all nephilim were ‘sneaky fucks'. Her words, not mine. My home was closer than Blackgoat, so we made our way there, both pretending we didn't notice we were being tailed by two nephilim from Roman and Casper's crew.

Back home, Cloete announced she'd crash at my place for the night and since she'd saved me back at Saint Pendergrast, I was grateful enough to offer a bath and my bed. Ushering her upstairs, I drew the warm water, sprinkling it with scented oils. Orella might have had all the charm and grace of a warthog, but she had remembered to drill some basic manners into me as I grew up. Giving Cloete a fresh towel and some spare clothes, I went to leave.

‘Stay a minute,' Cloete said as she began to strip. I turned to give her some privacy, limping over to the bathroom stool to sit down. Splashing noises came from behind me.

‘You can turn around,' Cloete said. ‘Not like you haven't seen a pair of tits before.'