Chaos Broken (19 page)

Crowhurst made for the door. ‘Thanks, boss.'

‘Lock the front door behind you.'

‘No problem.'

‘And set fire to the kitchen on your way out.'

‘Very funny.'

I waited until I heard the front door close before putting the pen down. Crowhurst and I might be a good team, but that didn't mean we had to agree on everything. And there was no way I was writing that letter, asking those I loved to return into a line of enemy fire.

After I left Blackgoat, I was at a momentary loss as to what to do. The idea of returning to my empty home didn't appeal, because I knew I'd just sit in the kitchen and worry. A feeling of helplessness filled me and after a second pedestrian jostled me, I shoved back. Meeting their glare with my own nasty one, I suddenly decided I'd go and do what I did best: kick someone's well-deserving arse.

I made my way to the neighbourhood I'd remembered Roosen saying he lived in, and pulled up a stool at a noodle stall halfway down the street. The stall was operated by a goblin husband and wife team, their oversized noses covered in warts, wearing hairnets that pinned back curly mops of hair. I ordered egg noodles in broth and sat back, checking out the neighbourhood.

When my bowl was set in front of me, I racked my memory for the name of Roosen's overstaying friend.
Gamber
, Roosen had said.

‘Anything else?' the male goblin grunted.

‘I'm looking for a man,' I said.

His brows furrowed. ‘You ordered noodles, you get noodles. You want a man, go somewhere else.'

I ignored this. ‘He's a writer by the name of Roosen.'

The goblin frowned. ‘Big fella, who dresses in them big, floppy hats?'

‘I guess.'

He pointed to a building nearby. ‘Top floor, end quarters.'

‘Do you know anything else about him?' I asked.

At this the goblin's bushy eyebrows rose and he tapped his wife's shoulder, pulling her away from stirring a steaming pot of broth.

She looked at me, irritated. ‘No refunds.'

‘Woman wants to know about that writer,' her husband said.

‘My name's Lora Blackgoat,' I said. ‘I'm a friend of Roosen's. I'm worried about him.'

‘Humph. I'm Berta.' The female goblin hobbled over. ‘This fool is Benny.'

‘Who you callin' a fool?' Benny mumbled.

‘Hush.' Berta folded her stubby arms and glared at me. ‘You should be worried.'

‘Careful, Berta,' Benny growled. ‘Don't get too involved. She's a Witch Hunter, you know.'

Berta rolled her eyes. ‘With those ratty black roots? I don't think so.' She leant forward on the counter. ‘You know, I heard of this Runner with white hair, who wasn't a Witch Hunter. She was something else. She was the sister of the nephilim. That be you?'

I hesitated, then gave a quick nod. ‘That'd be me. I'm not with the Order. I work with Blackgoat Watch.'

‘How about we trade,' she suggested. ‘I'll tell you a little something, if you tell me a little something.'

I stirred my steaming bowl of noodles. ‘If I have the information, it's yours.'

‘You're going to get us in trouble.' Benny flapped his hands about, clearly distressed.

‘Who are you afraid of?' I asked him. ‘Why do you think you'll get in trouble for talking to me?'

‘I hear things,' he wheezed, and rubbed his chest dramatically. ‘I hear many, many things.'

‘Don't be stupid,' Berta admonished him. ‘Go stir the broth before it burns.'

Benny turned to the simmering pot, grumbling under his breath

‘I've been hearing disturbing news,' Berta said. ‘That the Grigori are intending to force the Council of Ten to pass some new laws. Some laws that don't exactly benefit our kind.'

Remembering what Crowhurst said about his time in Thesma, I gave a small nod. ‘That wouldn't surprise me.'

‘Do you know anything?'

They both stared at me, waiting. I realised whatever I said here and now would be repeated to every customer. This was how a rumour was birthed. I leaned forward, with a conspiratorial look.

‘There's a High Grigori in town,' I said. ‘He comes from Thesma and goes by the name Laeonder. He's here because he doesn't trust how the Harken Grigori have been dealing with their nephilim.'

‘No.' Berta's eyes widened in shock. ‘Why?'

I leaned back. ‘There is a nephilim who used to be one of them. A Regulator. One who survived the berserker rage to achieve a state of enlightenment. The gods blessed him with wings the colour of the snow, a testimony to the pureness of his heart. Some Grigori wanted to make peace with him, but others hunted him, wanting to make an example of any nephilim who would dare to dream of freedom.'

‘The Grigori without their nephilim? Never happen,' Benny snorted. ‘And as for peace? Forget it.'

‘Not all are Grigori are evil,' I said, barely able to believe the words had passed my lips. ‘But this new High Grigori? He'll never accept anything beyond absolute obedience. He's a dangerous man, with no regard for Harken's citizens. I heard he once orchestrated a mass murder of otherkin in the city of Thesma.'

‘Shocking,' Berta whispered. ‘Just shocking.'

‘You hear anything about martial law being rolled out, you close up shop and go to ground,' I warned her. ‘Get out of the city. Tell everyone who comes through your store. It could mean their life.'

Berta made the forked sign of evil, as if trying to ward off the very suggestion of a civil uprising. She muttered quietly with her husband while I ate my noodles, watching the top floor. By the time I was done, a few patrons had settled beside me and were waiting for orders. When I paid, Berta nodded at the window of Roosen's apartment.

‘Your friend is a nice enough fellow. Comes here twice a week. Good customer. But he's got one of them soft hearts. The kind that swindlers love, and he's got one up there now. Fellow who thinks he's a great artist. He's a bad sort. Your friend should get rid of him, quick.'

‘Thanks. Do you know if this great artist is there now?'

‘I think so. What are you going to do?'

I stood and paid for my food. ‘Convince him to move on.'

After a coach rattled by, I limped across the street and entered the residential building. Climbing a narrow staircase that smelt very unhygienic, I reached the top floor and walked along a dark corridor that smelled of spicy food and pine-scented cleaning products. The last door was locked and when I pressed an ear against it, I heard muffled voices coming from inside. Leaning my cane against the wall, I slipped a hairpin out of my braid and worked the lock as quietly as I could. A door to my left opened, spilling light into the dim hallway, and I froze. A woman stared at me, backlit face full of suspicion. I pressed a finger against my lips and she frowned. My breath caught, thinking she was about to start shouting. But she just closed the door, leaving me in darkness. I turned back to the lock and within moments, it clicked open. Pushing the door, I slipped inside Roosen's home.

The entry space was tiny and opened directly into a dark living room that smelled of oil paints and turpentine. In the shadows, half-finished canvases leaned against the walls and writing materials were strewn over armchairs.

Light spilled from the kitchen, along with rough voices. I moved forward, until I could see a group of men drinking and playing cards around the table. Gripping my cane, I stepped into the light.

‘Everybody get out,' I barked.

Heads snapped my way and brows furrowed.

‘Who are you?' One man asked. He was a handsome man, with a dimple in his chin and well-groomed hair. I took a bet this was Gamber. He put down his cards and glared at me, carefully plucked eyebrows twitching.

‘How did you get into my home?' he demanded.

‘Roosen gave me a key,' I told him.

His face flushed. ‘He would never do that. He would have checked with me first.'

My eyes roamed over his friends. ‘You gentlemen have to leave.'

Gamber laughed. ‘Did that fat fuck hire you to throw me out? How do you suppose he got the balls to do that?'

‘Not my department to wonder about his balls,' I said. ‘And now, it's not your concern either.'

Gamber's friends looked at each other, like they couldn't decide what to do. Figuring I'd help them decide, I pulled the dagger from my bra and pitched it at the table. The blade dug deep, leather-wrapped hilt vibrating.

‘Is that supposed to impress me?' Gamber asked.

I felt like telling him
yes
, just because I had hit my target for once. Gamber's friends hastily got to their feet and inched nervously by me, hands raised.

‘What are you doing?' Gamber yelled after them, then he glared at me, looking distinctly unimpressed. ‘You think you can frighten me with your cheap tricks?' He shifted his head so I could see a plait tucked behind his ear, entwined with black thread, indicating he was a darkcraft practitioner. He turned back to me with a smirk. ‘You think you can take me?' he sneered.

‘I'm pretty damned sure I could.'

He sneered. ‘I could turn you into a toad, if I wanted to.'

‘Wouldn't be the worst thing that's happened to me.' I leaned against my cane. ‘But you know, I'm not so bad myself at casting any more. I'm what you'd call a late bloomer. Kind of took a while for me to make sure my spells didn't miscast.'

‘Miscast?' Gamber laughed. ‘Are you really that bad?'

‘No. I was handicapped by a charm that hid who I was. Made me afraid to learn more powerful spells, because I wasn't sure I could control them.' I grinned. ‘But that time's passed, my friend, and I've been learning every mean little spell in the book.'

‘Remind me why I should be listening to you?' Gamber drawled. One hand inched towards his pocket. ‘I don't care about you, or your hard little life.'

‘Yeah. You just care about bleeding Roosen for everything he's worth, right?'

A small smile played on Gamber's lips. ‘I've given him a slice of happiness. Do you think a loser like him would ever be able to find someone like me? Happiness always has a price, you know.'

‘Was that black eye you gave him your idea of happiness?' I asked.

‘We had an argument. It happens.'

‘Not anymore.'

He threw salt my way, casting in broken Latin. The spell shot forward, but I had cast as well and blocked him, scattering light across the room. Gamber staggered back, face turning pale.

‘What was that?' he gasped.

‘Weren't you listening before? I told you I was a late bloomer.' I threw him some dimples. ‘But I'm all caught up now.'

My spell had faded into a soft vapour, but I was still connected to the ley-lines, a little trick Orella had taught me. I motioned at the mist of my spell, beckoning like it was a dog.

Gamber stumbled back. ‘What are you doing?'

‘Just showing you who you're messing with.' Sweat trickled down my back and I could feel a murderous headache starting up behind one eye. Staying connected to the ley-lines for this long was difficult. But hey, you never knew what you could accomplish unless you tried, right? I sent the spell out, its gentle caress spreading across objects around me. Gamber's hair ruffled, but I didn't go near him. The spell began to stretch, the connection to the ley-lines weakening, so I wrapped the spell around everything I could and just…lifted.

Gamber gave a shout of surprise as everything in the room rose gently in the air. It was actually quite a difficult spell to pull off – it required precision and a delicate touch. Gamber knew it, and that he was outclassed in the casting stakes. Of course, that didn't make him any smarter.

‘I'm not leaving,' he said.

A kettle smashed into the back of his head, before bouncing away.

‘Ow!' Gamber howled. ‘That hurt.'

‘Not as much as this,' I murmured, sending a chair crashing over his back. Gamber staggered against the table. I sent another chair to smack over him. My bad leg staggered as the strain of the spell took hold, and I clutched at my cane. The moment cost me and the spell collapsed, furniture and cutlery dropping to the floor around us in a cacophony of sound.

‘You're crazy,' Gamber shrieked. I was glad I'd freaked him out, because with the exhaustion I was feeling now, there was no chance I would be able to cast again for a while. Trying not to limp too much, I walked to the table and retrieved my dagger. I flipped it and tried to casually catch the handle. But my hand was shaking so much I missed and it fell to the ground. Fortunately, Gamber wasn't paying attention to my pretend-awesome act. He was still looking around the kitchen, wondering how I'd managed such a hard spell. I could have told him it was easy. Get yourself a great teacher, practise every day and make tons of enemies who want to see you dead. Instant motivation.

‘I want you to get out now,' I said.

Gamber sneered and I realised to my dismay he'd figured out the spell had wiped me. The headache was making my left eye twitch and it felt like someone was trying to drill clean through what I had left of a brain.

‘You're insane if you think I'm leaving this place,' Gamber spat. ‘That village idiot Roosen would do anything I tell him, so I'm not going anywhere.'

‘Village idiot?'

I turned to see Roosen behind me, a grocery bag clutched to his chest.

He stared at Gamber in shock. ‘You think I'm the village idiot?'

‘Your pal Gamber here was just leaving,' I said. ‘He thinks it's time to try and be a starving artist again.'

‘I don't think you're an idiot.' Gamber stepped towards Roosen, tone pleading. ‘I was just angry.'

‘You're going to leave,' I said. ‘Or I'll throw you out a window myself.'