Chaos Broken (27 page)

Shouts came from behind me. I recognised Crowhurst's voice and tried to turn, tried to shout for him to back off, but the hands holding me just tightened painfully. Shop fronts crashed close as we passed and peddlers fell silent, staring at me with blank expressions. My hands were bound behind me and then I was shoved into the coach, the door slamming behind me. I pressed my face against the small barred window on the side, wanting to howl with frustration, and saw Crowhurst running towards us, still shouting. One of the Regulators stepped out and raised a flintlock.

I struggled against the rope, feeling my skin pinch and burn as I tried to reach the throwing knives in the spine of my corset. But I was bound too tight and all I did was draw blood. Then the Regulator's flintlock cracked, and Crowhurst crumpled to the ground. I sucked in a sharp breath, staring as the Regulator holstered his weapon and then strode to the front of the coach. Seconds later, we were moving and all I could do was watch as Cloete raced towards Crowhurst's fallen body.

I collapsed back on the coach seat, numb. A flintlock could do a lot of damage, but I didn't know if Crowhurst was dead. He might have just been wounded. He was griorwolf, after all, and they were a lot tougher than humans. I ran these reassuring thoughts through my brain on loop, barely registering the trip. Cloete was with him, I told myself. She would see that he was taken to a hospital and healed. She was one of the bravest women I knew, and we were talking about a man she loved. A man I loved liked family.

The hinges on the coach door squealed open, and with a start I realised we'd arrived at our destination already. Reality bled back to my senses as I was hauled out of the coach and I saw we weren't inside the Order compound like I'd expected. Instead, we were at Avalon Square.

A small crowd had gathered: fine-clothed ladies with large hats mingled with rough-neck sailors, and I even spied a few priestesses from the Temple of Kianna, where I occasionally visited, their painted mouths pinched with disapproval. My eyes settled on Laeonder, standing by a freshly constructed pyre, arms folded as he talked to another Thesma Grigori.

My legs nearly gave way when it dawned on me that I was today's attraction. I tried to pull back, but the Regulators either side of me kept ploughing forward and my boots just scraped the ground.

When Laeonder spied me, he turned and smiled, pulling out a scroll that was tucked under one arm. I was shoved in front of him, before a heavy hand landed on my shoulder, pushing me to my knees.

‘Lady Blackgoat,' Laeonder murmured, eyes scanning the unravelled scroll. ‘How lovely to see you again.'

‘This is a mistake.' I twisted, my hands struggling against their bonds, searching the crowd for someone I knew. Someone I could appeal to. Anyone. My eyes lifted to the Regulators on horseback that lined the square, recognising none.

‘This is an illegal act,' I shouted.

‘Lady Blackgoat is accused of the crime of darkcraft,' Laeonder read from his scroll, then listed my other crimes. While some of them I was actually guilty of, I doubted he had any real evidence. This wasn't a trial. This was Laeonder showing his might before the city.

Before he had finished, my head was grabbed and a blade sliced through my hair. Too shocked to even struggle, I stared in disbelief at my locks on the ground.

My hair.

My white hair that had been such a source of pride for me, now dusted with black. And these bastards were cutting it off. If Orella had been here, right about now she'd be stuffing a lightning bolt up Laeonder's arse. But she wasn't here and they weren't even coming, because my pride hadn't let me send the letter. I thought I could handle it all myself and now I was going to pay the price. I scanned the crowd again, looking for Seth. He'd always come to my aid when I needed it most. But I didn't see his face and I wondered if he would even have come if he'd known what was in store for me.

‘This crime of treason is to be shared with another,' Laeonder announced. ‘One who furbished this traitor with the sacred Apertor Elixir, thereby denouncing his true allegiances.'

A second Regulator coach sat beside the one I'd arrived in. Now the back door swung open and Fowler appeared, escorted out by two Witch Hunters, hands bound behind him. His stern face was blank, sallow skin washed pale.

I looked at Laeonder, trying to keep my voice steady. ‘You can't execute a fellow Grigori. Where is his trial?'

‘There are no trials for traitors of the Order,' he answered.

‘You can't pass this kind of judgement.'

The corner of his Laeonder's lips twitched. ‘I can do as I please, Lora Blackgoat, for I stand in the grace of the One True God.'

‘You stand for nothing but lies,' I hissed.

The change on the High Grigori's face was dramatic. His stern countenance vanished, replaced by a look of hatred. A vein appeared in his forehead and a crimson stain spread over his cheeks. He lifted a hand and bought it down, smashing it across my face. Pain exploded from the blow, sending a shower of dots through my vision, and my knees wobbled as my Regulator guards held me up in an iron grip.

‘Burn him.' Spit flew from Laeonder's lips as he gestured to the Witch Hunters either side of Fowler. ‘Burn him first, so she may witness what is to come.'

I called out to Fowler as they secured him to the pyre. The priest met my eyes with his own calm ones. I saw then that he'd accepted his fate. He was prepared for it. One of the Witch Hunters produced a vial and lowered his head in quiet prayer.

‘This is murder.' I appealed to the smattering of people. I saw a few wince, but nobody said anything. I remembered what had happened to Andela. After all, I hadn't tried very hard to jump to her defence, had I?

The Witch Hunter swallowed the elixir and the air pulled around us as he drew on the ley-lines. The ropes binding my wrists chaffed against my already raw skin as I tried to reach the blades at the back of my corset. Distracted with the hope I could still get free and salvage this situation, I missed the moment when the Witch Hunter set Fowler alight. Blue fire crackled around his feet at first, before licking up his clothing, consuming all. As I watched, Fowler's skin blackened and his face contorted in pain. If he was screaming, I couldn't hear him over my own.

Then a warning shout rang out, a second before two bolts slammed into Fowler's chest and the priest's head sagged forward. Chaos erupted and I realised the Thesma Regulators were under attack from the rooftops. My guards backed up, their grip on me loosening as they pulled their swords.

At first, I wasn't sure where to run if I got loose. Then all I could see was Roman, in the air, wings spread to their full breadth and moving with powerful strokes. I had a split second to realise he was coming at me like a bullet. There was a crossbow in his hand and he dropped it in the crowd, both hands reaching for me. I didn't need a written invitation. I rushed the Witch Hunter who had set Fowler on fire. He didn't see me coming, his attention riveted on Roman. I slammed a shoulder into his body and, with a shriek, he went sprawling into the all-consuming blue fire. Then Roman's hands were around me, and with a sickening lurch I was airborne.

I stared at my reflection in an unfamiliar bathroom mirror and tried not to weep. My hair was chopped at irregular lengths, some areas sawn close to the skin, other parts in a ragged line around my ears. After Roman's breathtaking trip, in which I'd had my eyes closed the entire time, we'd landed on the roof of an abandoned warehouse in the meat district. Inside, the place was buzzing with nephilim from both the Outlands and defected Harken Regulators.

‘How are you doing?' Casper's face appeared in the mirror behind me.

‘I'm alive,' I said. ‘How's that hole in your side?'

‘Healing nicely, thanks to you.'

‘You can thank Roman. It was his Bishop's Balm to begin with.'

Casper held up a pair of scissors and snipped them a few times. ‘Want me to tidy up your new look?'

‘I'm thinking of calling it execution chic.' I tried for a joke, but it was too grim even for me to laugh at. I tried not to think about the throwing knives at my back and how I hadn't been able to reach for them. If I had, could I have gotten free and saved Fowler? I banished the thought, knowing it didn't serve me now.

Casper sat me down on a stool and moved my head about, looking for where to start. I tried not to wince when he started cutting.

‘You know what you're doing, right?' I asked.

‘I've cut a few heads in my day,' Casper said. ‘Never had any complaints after.'

‘That doesn't sound reassuring, you know.'

‘Don't worry. You'll look just fine.'

I sat in silence as Casper's big hands gently dry-cut my hair. I felt sorry I'd lost my long, curly locks, but I knew they'd grow back, and I could have lost a lot more. I'd gotten away from Laeonder with my life and that was more than I could say for Fowler. Thinking of the hook-nosed Grigori made my chest ache and I wondered how Roman was coping. It was hard to believe the priest was gone, and beneath my sorrow lay a burning anger.

‘How was your flight?' Casper asked, breaking the silence. ‘You're the first person he's taken up in the air, you know.'

‘Is that so.'

‘Uh huh. I keep asking him to take me on a joy ride, but he says I'm too big.'

I couldn't help remembering how closely I had been entwined with Roman in the air, how he'd pressed me tight against him; it had felt like a private embrace. Just me and him and the beckoning sky. Of course, I was still pretty happy when we landed.

‘There we are.' Casper dusted hair off my shoulders. ‘All done.'

I looked in the mirror and saw he'd given me a pixie-cut. My eyes seemed too large for my face and my chin looked weak, like I was getting ready to cry. I dropped my eyes quickly.

‘I think it takes ten years off you,' Casper said briskly. ‘It's a fresh, modern, look.'

My arms wrapped around him in a quick hug. ‘Thank you.'

When I pulled back, Casper looked surprised at the contact and I guess I was as well. But the moment seemed to call for a hug, so I had gone for it.

I ran a hand over my head, the touch feeling odd. ‘How's Roman?'

Casper's face darkened. ‘I'm not sure how clearly he's thinking, since seeing Fowler burn. He seems to have developed a bad case of bloodthirsty revenge.'

‘You disapprove?'

‘I don't know.' Casper turned and opened the bathroom door. ‘I just wish there was an answer that didn't involve mass bloodshed. If we attack the Order in retaliation, both sides are going to lose many good men, the very men we're trying to save.'

Casper walked me back into the main warehouse area, loaded with tables and chairs, where nephilim were checking maps of the city and stockpiles of weapons. I noticed some human Regulators there as well, working beside their nephilim friends. To one side, Roman stood talking to a group of men and I wasn't too surprised when I saw one of those men was Seth. My feet itched to walk over and join in the conversation. It would no doubt involve some sort of battle plan; the assessment of the enemy's weaknesses and how to breach them. I thought of the story Crowhurst had told me about how Laeonder had crushed the uprising of otherkin in Thesma.

Crowhurst
.

I hurried over to where Casper was pouring himself a drink from a table loaded with food and jugs of water.

‘A friend of mine was hurt,' I told him. ‘I need to find out how bad.'

‘What's his name?'

‘Reuben Crowhurst,' I told him. ‘He was shot in Abraham's Alley by the Regulators who took me away.'

Casper took a drink of water and wiped his mouth. ‘Let me find out for you.' He arched a suspicious eyebrow at me. ‘You won't go out to find him, right? You know you can't leave here.'

‘Of course,' I said, though I had every intention of leaving. No way was I staying here while my city was falling down around me. I had people back at Blackgoat Watch who depended on me and the thought of letting them down to save my own skin didn't even enter into my head. Gideon and Orella hadn't raised me to be a coward. A tactful liar, maybe, but not someone to back down from a fight.

‘Lora.'

Seth approached me, his mouth bracketed with deep lines. He scanned my new haircut and the lines deepened. ‘How are you?'

‘I'll live.'

He heard the stiffness in my voice and sighed. ‘I don't want to fight with you, Lora. We have to put aside our difference for now.'

‘Differences?' I arched an eyebrow. I was furious about Fowler's death. There was nothing I could do to bring him back, but the rage coloured my thoughts and Seth made a fine target for my anger. After all, now I knew all his secrets. ‘So, I shouldn't bring up the murderous rampage your son has been on?'

‘Don't start,' Seth snapped. ‘I've had my men out looking for him since you came to me. Don't think for a moment I'm avoiding my responsibilities.'

‘You ran screaming from your responsibilities when he was born,' I shot back. ‘And now he's grown up into a fine young psychopath.'

‘Responsibilities?' Seth's top lip curled. ‘What do you know of responsibilities? You think running your benefactor's business into the ground gives you some right to stand there and dictate to me how I should be running my life? What do you think I'm doing here? You think I'm gathering my forces to move against the Thesma Regulators for my own benefit?' His sneer dropped, but the anger remained hot in his eyes. ‘Some of us are playing the long game, Lora. Not everyone has the luxury of swanning about the city, with their only real worry being about where their next drink or card game is going to come from.'

These words, delivered on a tide of lava, burned through me. After the events of the week, ending with Fowler's horrible death, I felt something in me give. Alarm flared in Seth's eyes.