Chaos Broken (24 page)

‘It's not right,' an otherkin woman beside me muttered. She swiped a hanky under her beak-like nose. ‘It's just not right.'

‘Who is it?' I asked her.

‘Andela the Spider Witch,' she told me. ‘She weren't that good, but it still ain't right.'

‘Are you sure it's her?' I asked. Andela had a ferocious reputation as a skilled practitioner in the dark arts. I'd crossed her path a couple of times and almost hadn't lived to tell the tale.

‘She's right there, ain't she?' the woman snapped. ‘Use your eyes.'

‘How did they capture her?' I asked.

The woman nodded at Thesma Regulators on horseback, standing in formation near the pyre and a group of Regulator coaches. ‘Them Witch Hunter units tracked her down. I heard they murdered her whole coven.'

Laeonder stepped out from behind a Regulator coach, flanked by two Witch Hunters, and the crowd fell silent. The High Grigori positioned himself beside the pyre and began to read from a scroll.

‘What's he saying?' The woman craned her head forward. ‘I can't hear.'

I strained my ears, trying to make sense of the words as Laeonder's voice bounced around the square. I got the feeling he didn't care if people heard him or not.

‘He's saying something about a new law,' I told her. ‘I can't quite make it out.'

Laeonder finished and one of the Witch Hunters stepped forward. He took a small vial from a pocket, then bowed his head for a moment, as if in prayer. My head whirled. This was all moving too fast. The only thing I was sure about was that Andela didn't deserve to die like this. I went to make a move when a hand grabbed me from behind.

‘Lora.' A voice hissed in my ear and I turned to see Seth behind me. ‘This is a fight you can't win.'

I jerked my arm away from him. ‘Then
you
do something.'

Seth shook his head. ‘Too risky. There are too many Regulators.'

Turning back towards the pyre, I saw the Witch Hunter ingest the contents of the vial. I guessed it was Apertor Elixir and in confirmation, my skin pinched tight as he accessed the ley-lines. I started forward, but Seth grabbed me again. A crackle of energy flooded the square, rattling loose cobblestones, then Andela was lit from head to toe in a tongue of blue fire. Her head jerked up, eyes wild and raging. Curses spilled from her lips, punctuated by screams. Horror burned through me like dry ice. I tried to go for my belt and start shoving to the front of the crowd, but then Crowhurst was standing in front of me, hands on my shoulders.

‘Nothing you can do, boss,' he said.

‘Get her out of here,' Seth told him from behind me.

I rounded on Seth, full of rage and despair and the horrible knowledge that he was right. My hand darted out and I slapped his face. He looked shocked for a whole second, before fury descended. He grabbed my wrists, hard enough to bruise. ‘You're attracting attention.'

I wanted to shout abuse at him, but Andela's screams made it hard to think, so I just let Crowhurst pull me away. He pushed me from the square and we both stumbled down the street, passing the occasional shopkeeper who asked us what was going on. A look from Crowhurst shut them up, and after taking a few shortcuts we got back to Blackgoat in record time.

Sweat slicked my back and my bad leg ached horribly. Limping to the kitchen, I found some willowbark pills in the first-aid kit and swallowed them, hoping they'd kick in soon. Snagging a cider from the cold-box, I collapsed at the kitchen table, defeated. Crowhurst sat opposite, waving off an offered sip.

‘What in hellfire is going on?' I muttered. ‘What's going to happen to this city?'

Crowhurst tugged nervously at his ruby earring. ‘One of the Runners told me this morning about how this new High Grigori went to the council chambers and threatened the Council of Ten with the complete withdrawal of the Order's protection if they failed to meet his demands.'

‘This is insane.' I pressed a hand against my flushed cheeks. The air was cold, but my skin felt clammy and hot, as if I had a fever. ‘We just stood by and watched a woman burn. We did nothing to stop it.'

Crowhurst's mouth twisted. ‘Andela wasn't exactly an innocent, Lora. She was a killer herself.'

‘I know.' I took a long swig from the bottle. ‘But don't you see? This is the beginning. Andela is just the first. What about when Orella comes back? She teaches both the dark and the light. I guarantee you they don't give a shit about her philosophies about balance in all things. They'd burn her in a heartbeat.'

‘Then we'll just have to be extra diligent.' Crowhurst tapped his chin, eyes thoughtful. ‘Hopefully your letter will get to them sooner, rather than later. We'll just have to hold out until then.'

I put my cider down. ‘I didn't send a letter.'

Crowhurst blinked. ‘What?'

‘You heard me.' I splayed my hands flat on the table. Pressure built inside me from a surging rage born of helplessness, and I wanted to take it out on someone. Anyone.

‘You didn't send the letter.' Crowhurst's eyebrows drew together and a storm built in his face. ‘Why not?'

‘Because I didn't.' I smashed a fist against the table, causing my cider to tip over. I grabbed it before it could roll and crash to the floor. ‘Gideon is too old to be trying to stick his hooves in this business and Orella's too sick.'

‘Gideon has influence you don't.' Crowhurst's voice rose. ‘And Orella's just got arthritis.'

Arthritis didn't give you a cough that wracked your body with spasms. I suspected Orella's health was in much more dire shape than she or Gideon led anyone to believe, but I'd never said anything. I couldn't. Because then it might be real. So they went on their little holiday and there was no way I was calling them back to face Laeonder's pyre.

I stood. ‘In case you missed the newsflash, Gideon left me in charge. Not you. So I'm the one paying your bills, so you can afford to take Cloete out and shag her all over town.'

Crowhurst's face hardened. ‘In case you hadn't noticed, this place would have been belly-up five times over if it hadn't been for me.'

‘How's that? Eh? Bringing me jobs like missing-fucking-cats?' My voice had risen to a scream now. Violence crashed through me and I wanted nothing more than to launch across the room and start laying into Crowhurst.

But he didn't take the bait. Instead, he turned on his heel and left the room. Seconds later, the front door slammed. I sat back down. With no one to argue with, my anger dissolved into something worse: a crying fit. I didn't fight it, just buried my head in my hands and wept. I cried for Poulter. Then I cried for what had happened to Sabine. For what had happened to Gorath and the broken man he'd become. Then I cried some more because my I missed Gideon and Orella so much my heart hurt.

The crying fit didn't last long. Grubber and a group of Runners turned up soon after with food and beer. Head bowed, I'd hastily made my departure and somehow managed to get home without embarrassing myself further.

At home, I drank some coffee and ate stale biscuits, then braided my hair back and changed into black clothes. Black for mourning. Black for death. Things were getting a little too fucked up in this city I loved so much and I wasn't sure what to do about it. I knew I needed to apologise to Crowhurst, but for now I was going to do the one thing I knew I was capable of: tracking Kalin down. What I'd do once I'd found him, I wasn't sure. After all, my attempts to take him down in the alley hadn't gone so well. My hands tightened around my cane as I left my house. Dismemberment seemed to be a good option.

A fog had rolled in off the Harken River, wafting down the crooked streets, and the wintery air was frigid. I mapped out in my head where I would look for Kalin first. Grubber had said the kid had been seen around the sewers, but I wasn't that keen to start there. He and his gang of delinquents had also made their recent mass slaughter near the harbour, but I wasn't going to bother looking for clues there. The place would be crawling with Regulators and Grigori.

Trawling the streets, I tapped my regular contacts, passing out coin and asking after the kid. People had seen him, but no one could tell me where he was hiding.

Around mid-afternoon, I realised I was really going to have to go into the sewers to search for the little bastard because I was officially out of ideas and leads.

Access to the sewers wasn't easy: you had to find an entry, and even then most of them had solid iron gates with big locks. Fortunately, I found one with a lock that hadn't rusted over and managed to pick it open. The tunnels were dark and I cast a quick spell, bringing to life a small ball of blue light that floated ahead of me, illuminating a path.

The smell in the sewer was as bad as I thought it would be, which meant it was horrific. Worse than garbage. Worse than baby sick. Gagging, I pressed the crook of my arm against my nose as I walked through the tunnels, hunched over so my head didn't scrape the slime-coated ceiling. Eventually, the tunnel widened and I found I could straighten. Other than a couple of startled rats, I really wasn't seeing much in the way of clues. This didn't surprise me, considering my Runners and Caleb's men had already searched these tunnels. I guess I wasn't sure what I was hoping to find. Something heavy shuffled in the shadows as I passed, and I paused, hand tightening around my cane.

‘Who's there?' I called. ‘Show yourself.'

With a gesture, I sent the ball drifting over a bundle of rags. The rotting material shrank away from the light.

‘I won't harm you,' I said. ‘I'm just looking for someone.'

The rags shifted and a figure emerged. Filthy clothes hung from her body and moss-coloured eyes sat over a snub nose. Rank seaweed-like hair sat plastered to her head and long breasts hung low enough that I unconsciously hitched my bra straps. She belched and picked a snail out of her ear. ‘What you want?' she asked.

‘I'm looking for a kid,' I said. ‘He's got yellow eyes and smells of crazy. Talks a lot about someone rising.'

She popped the snail in her mouth and chewed. ‘You and everyone else. It's like I told them fellas before. Haven't seen nobody.'

‘I know you're lying,' I said. ‘I think you know everything that happens down here.'

She retreated back into the shadows, hunching in on herself. ‘Just leave me alone. I'm nothing but a lowly swamp nymph.'

‘I could pay for the information.'

‘Don't care about coin down here.'

‘What do you care about?'

One eye squinted at me. ‘What did this boy do?'

‘Hurt people.' I leaned forward on my cane. ‘And he's going to hurt plenty more, unless I stop him.'

‘You?' She gave a cackle. ‘I watched your Runners fumbling around down here, making a racket.'

‘You know who I am?'

The nymph unfolded herself again, a sly look in her eyes. ‘Of course I know who you are.' She crouched down, unrolling a bag to lie out flat. Slender bottles of dirty liquid were tucked into pouches, along with charms and necklaces made from tiny teeth.

‘What do you think?' She ran knotted fingers across the items, pride gleaming in her eyes.

‘Interesting collection,' I said. ‘Is that what you do down here? Collect things?'

‘Maybe.' A slug crawled out of her nose and she flicked it away. ‘Maybe you have something I would like to have, very much.'

‘Like what?' I asked, suddenly cautious.

She grinned. ‘A single drop of your blood.'

I retreated a step, surprised. ‘No.'

‘A single drop of the only female nephilim in existence,' she repeated. ‘I am owed that.'

‘Owed?' I repeated. ‘What do you mean?'

‘You would not remember me, but I remember you, when Orella Warbreeder brought you to me. You howled until she let you suck on her finger.' The nymph tapped her nose. ‘Orella knew the dangers you would face as the only female nephilim, so she asked for something to hide you with.' Her top lip curled back. ‘A pretty charm for the pretty baby to wear. To hide her pitch-black hair and eyes. To hide her, to hide her, from prying eyes.'

Squinting, I tried to read the nymph's aura, but found I couldn't, and my eyes watered with the effort. The nymph laughed and twirled her fingers around her head.

‘Don't try your tricks with me, little girl. You'll not be able to read my aura.' She leaned forward with an eager look. ‘One drop is all I ask for. You owe me. It was my spell that hid you all those years from the hand of the Order of Guides and the Craft Aldermen.'

‘I suppose you want me to thank you?' Anger flushed through me, thinking of all the taunts and beatings I received as a child from those who thought I was a Witch Hunter.

‘That's right,' the nymph said. ‘Though I did not know the charm would turn your hair white. That was your nature, altering the spell. That was your doing. Not mine.'

‘I never asked for my identity to be hidden.' My voice rose. ‘What I was shouldn't have been concealed from me.'

The nymph leered. ‘You think your life was difficult, being mistaken for a Witch Hunter? Just think of how people would have treated you if everyone had known you were nephilim. I dare say, things would have been very different.'

The anger drained out of me and suddenly I wanted nothing more than to get out of these sewers. Away from this memory of the past. Of things I couldn't change.

The nymph held out a silver needle and a cloth. ‘One drop. Not for spells. For my collection. A memory of my life. Then I will tell you where the child has been hiding.'

My shoulders slumped, knowing I had little choice. I took the needle, telling myself that one drop was nothing. Her claims about me owing her rang deep and true. She was right. If people had known I was nephilim, my life would have been a nightmare.