Chaos Bound

by Rebekah Turner

  ‘Why should she receive mercy, after all she’s done?’ the Mayor demanded. ‘She came into my home and performed an exorcism, without my approval.’

  ‘Which is not, strictly speaking, an illegal act,’ Fowler said smoothly. ‘Exorcisms are considered one of the church-sanctioned spells. Lady Blackgoat is a well-known figure in Applecross, and it will show good will from the Order of Guides to release her.’

  ‘This is outrageous,’ the Mayor spluttered. ‘Thanks to this woman, and her employer, I've become a laughing stock, someone who can’t keep his own household under control.’

  ‘Please understand, Lord Mayor,’ Fowler said. ‘We are trying to soften our public image. We need to preserve what good will we have left, and mercy is the most direct path. We are not a perfect brotherhood of justice. We have our flaws, our limitations. But one thing we need to remember is our basic principle. That we are here to serve the citizens of Harken. We are here to protect them from evil. That line might blur sometimes, but we will try our best to stay the path.’

  The Mayor bared his teeth at the Grigori. ‘You suggest blasphemy, to turn a blind eye against the crimes she committed.’

  ‘It is a stretch to call an exorcism a crime, Lord Mayor,’ Daveron spoke up. ‘And rumour has it your wife employed the exorcists in the first place.’

  ‘We would suggest some tolerance, Lord Mayor.’ Fowler’s voice was soothing. ‘We should view this as an opportunity to show a benevolent face to the public.’

  I couldn’t believe Fowler was saying these things; couldn’t believe he was arguing for me. It was almost like he believed what he was saying. I knew I wanted to. The other Grigori were nodding their heads in agreement and it occurred to me I could be witnessing a change among the Grigori in their approach to craftusers in the city. Fowler’s speech sparked a small hope inside of me: a hope that, if the Grigori knew how to embrace mercy, that maybe they could bestow some on Roman.

  ‘As a show of good faith,’ Fowler was saying. ‘Lady Blackgoat has offered her services to the Order of Guides for a season, to see if she would enjoy the life of a revered Witch Hunter.’

  I winced, hearing the other shoe well and truly drop. It was the sucker punch to the guts I'd been expecting, the poke in the eye I'd been waiting for. Seth had said he’d arrange for someone at the trial to be on my side. What were the chances that Seth had approached Fowler and they’d hammered out this little deal together? I just felt relief this wasn’t some clever ruse to get me to spill my guts about Roman. Fowler hadn’t even gone near the subject, for which I was grateful.

  ‘A female Witch Hunter, eh? Haven’t had one of them here in a long time.’ Brackett squinted at me. ‘Has she got the taste for witch blood?’

  ‘Her benefactor claimed she did not,’ Fowler said.

  ‘Are you seriously going to let her go?’ The Mayor looked like he was about to have a stroke.

  ‘In light of the evidence, and her pending contract with the Order, the charges against Lora Blackgoat shall be dropped,’ Fowler said.

  ‘She used darkcraft to murder a man at an influential citizen’s home,’ the Mayor roared. ‘The report says she performed a hex that ripped through his chest. Do you really think she is not a threat to our society in light of her actions?’

  ‘A terrible crime,’ Fowler agreed. ‘No-one will argue against you. But the defendant has confessed regret at her actions.’

  ‘Has she?’

  Suddenly, all eyes were on me. I blinked at Fowler, startled out of my thoughts. ‘Sorry, what?’

  Brackett waved a hand in an irritated gesture. ‘Have you regrets for soiling your soul in the use of darkcraft?’

  My hands inched their way into my armpits. ‘Regrets? I've got plenty.’

  ‘Yes, but do you specifically regret your crimes?’

  I thought of all the things I'd done in my life that weren’t quite legal. ‘I can assure you, I wish things had gone a different way.’

  ‘There you have it,’ Fowler said swiftly. ‘Lady Blackgoat’s tenure will commence at a mutually agreed upon time and she will be welcomed into the organisation with open arms.’

  ‘I've heard just about enough.’ The Mayor heaved himself to his feet. ‘Will you support me when I present the De heretico comburendo to the Council of Ten, or not?’

  Fowler adjusted the sleeves on his robe. ‘You will find none here who will support that insanity, Lord Mayor. You would do well to consider what may happen if the Order revokes it’s backing for you, should you prove yourself unstable.’

  ‘You will regret not assisting me,’ the Mayor spat. ‘Your inaction here reveals your true nature: weak and pathetic.’

  ‘We ask you to think carefully about what you’re saying,’ Daveron said evenly.

  ‘This was a waste of my time.’ The Mayor strode to the door, heading directly for the two Regulators, as if he could walk through them. They stepped aside at the last minute, and the Mayor left the room in a cloud of self-righteous rage.

  ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it,’ Fowler said. I turned to face him with a sullen scowl and Fowler just smiled back. ‘Welcome to the Order of Guides, Lora.’

  Chapter 28

  By the time I walked back across the Harken River and found transport, it was near noon. I knew I needed to get home before Roman went looking for me; I hoped he hadn’t already. Blackgoat Watch was on my way, though, and I wanted to warn Gideon about what had happened at the trial. If Mayor Corelli couldn’t get me hung up by my toenails, he’d no doubt double his efforts to run Blackgoat into the ground. By the time I got to Abraham’s Alley, I had worked myself into quite a dark mood, mulling over Fowler’s tricky move.

  Inside Blackgoat, Crowhurst was lounging at the base of the staircase, carving an apple with a throwing dagger. ‘How’d it go?’ he asked.

  ‘I got screwed.’

  ‘Sounds painful.’ Crowhurst flipped a piece of apple into his mouth. ‘I heard about the deal Gideon struck with the Order. Will you go through with it?’

  ‘What?’ I barked.

  Crowhurst stopped chewing. ‘You didn’t know?’

  I counted to ten before answering. ‘I suppose it makes sense the old goat would be involved.’

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about this deal. It was a temporary gig. But the Order thought I was a Witch Hunter. What would happen to me if they knew I was nephilim? After all, Fowler knew, and some of the Regulator’s as well. How long could I keep my secret?

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, I've got to see a goat about a job,’ I said.

  Crowhurst shuffled over and I limped past him and up the stairs, knocking on Gideon’s office door before entering. The old goat sat behind his desk, looking frazzled amidst an office that was buried under piles of paper. Gideon’s fez was tilted at a crazy angle, and the small room held the smell of sweat and panic. I flopped down on one of the visitor chairs, my eyes trailing over the mess.

  ‘How goes the audit?’ I decided to play it cool, see if he was going to say anything first about the contract with the Order. Gideon peered at me over his moon-shaped glasses.

  ‘I heard what happened at your trial,’ he said.

  ‘How? It just happened.’ I straightened in the chair. ‘What bit did you hear? About the Mayor gate-crashing the trial, and wanting to see me executed on the spot? Or the bit about me being voted the new ‘Employee of the Month’ for the Order?’ Gideon grimaced, and I pointed an accusing finger at him. ‘Somehow, you need to make this right. I can’t work for the Grigori, or have the Lord-Freaking-Mayor gunning for me, as well as every other random lunatic.’

  ‘I'll do something, I'll do something,’ Gideon assured me.

  I slumped back in the chair. ‘Were you in on the arrangement with Fowler? Because you know I don’t play well with others.’

  Gideon’s face scrunched. ‘Why are you taking that tone with me? Can’t you see I've got enough stress as it is?’

  ‘Did you and Seth set the deal up with Fowler?’ I per
sisted.

  ‘Yes.’ Gideon threw his hands up. ‘I had some hand in this nefarious deal that sees you tied to the Order for a season. Captain Hallow brokered the deal. But yes, I signed off on it.’ Gideon rubbed his temples, as if he had been hard done by. ‘The contract is temporary, Lora. It will save Blackgoat from financial ruin and will probably saved your life.’

  ‘How exactly will this deal save Blackgoat?’ I asked.

  ‘Apparently Blackgoat Watch owes a considerable debt in back taxes. All lies, I can assure you. Captain Hallow negotiated quite a rich amount for your services, and it will see us nearly out of the red.’

  ‘I'm just your pawn then?’

  ‘Pawn?’ Gideon’s bushy eyebrows lifted. ‘You are my knight that has been moved into play.’

  ‘Those sentiments feel pretty chilly from where I'm sitting.’

  Gideon spread his hands. ‘I need you to take one for the team, Lora.’

  ‘What team? Kind of hard to run a business without Runners,’ I said nastily.

  ‘Don’t you worry about that issue. I've started advertising further afield. I've also got some irons in the fire about what to do with Maya Velkov. She is more dangerous than I gave her credit for. But the first order of business is survival. Once we are safe, then I will try to find a way to extract you from the contract with the Grigori.’ He tapped a finger on the table a few times. ‘Look, I wasn’t sure if I should mention this or not…’ His eyes roamed around the room, looking at everything but me.

  ‘What?’ I sighed. ‘What else is it?’

  Gideon cleared his throat. ‘I know you’ve been hanging around that Regulator. The big one who always looks like someone kicked his dog.’

  ‘Roman. His name is Roman.’

  ‘Right.’ Gideon cleared his throat. ‘I heard he’s missing. The Grigori are looking for him. My impression is that, once they find him, he’ll be disappearing. Permanently, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I slumped in my chair. ‘I know.’

  ‘Good, because a nephilim missing is a nephilim who’s unpredictable.’ Gideon scratched his head, fez tilting further down his head. ‘If you only take one piece of advice from me, keep your distance. If he’s going to go crazy, let him do it someplace else, away from you.’

  ‘Think it might be contagious?’ My voice was frosty. ‘Roman is my friend. If he came to me for help, I won’t turn him away.’

  ‘That would be a mistake, Lora.’

  ‘Then it’s mine to make.’

  Chapter 29

  I couldn’t find a rickshaw to hail, so I walked towards home, stopping in at a bakery to collect up some food. My last meal was a distant memory and skipping breakfast had been a bad idea, though I’d had no choice in the matter. Clutching a paper bag full of honey soaked pastries and a jar of ground coffee, I cut through the back alleys to keep off the main road. While the Grigori had acquitted me, I still didn’t trust them, or the Mayor. Distracted by the smell of fresh bakery goods, it wasn’t until I was nearly home that I realised someone was following me. I turned. Behind me, a large cloaked figure stepped from a doorway, head covered by a hood.

  ‘Something you want, citizen?’ I asked cautiously. A large hand swept the hood off, and Roman stared back at me. I noted his tight face and fever bright eyes. ‘What are you doing out here?’

  ‘Where have you been?’ His eyes dropped to the bakery bag in my hands.

  ‘The Order changed the trial time and picked me up. I didn’t get much say in the matter. ‘

  Roman gave a curt nod. ‘What happened?’

  ‘They agreed it was self-defence and pardoned me.’ At this point, I figured a half-truth was better than a flat-out lie.

  ‘Then it’s over.’ His voice was strained. Waves of tension wash off him, and anger pull his brow low.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, heart speeding up. ‘Did someone come by the house? Did someone see you?’

  His smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I read your book. The one the nephilim in the Outlands gave you.’

  Mentally cursing my stupidity at leaving the book lying around, I stalled. ‘Pretty dry reading, right?’

  ‘Right until I got to the pages you’d folded down.’

  I almost slapped my forehead, but managed to hold back. ‘Roman —’

  ‘It’s a lie,’ he said quickly. ‘The Grigori would never make such a deal with the Unclean.’ He touched the rune tattoos on his face. ‘I told you. This is a prayer to protect us for the work we do in our father’s names. It is a testimony to our celestial heritage.’

  My shoulders slumped. I felt old and tired. ‘There’s no proof what the book says is true. The only people who know are the Grigori themselves.’

  ‘You should have told me,’ Roman said. ‘You should have trusted me.’

  ‘I do trust you.’ I reached for him, but he moved away. I let my hand drop, feeling sick. ‘I made a mistake not telling you, but I’d only just read it myself and needed time to think.’

  ‘You think I am unwell.’ Roman’s eyes gleamed, and sweat beaded his brow. ‘I can see it in your face.’

  I wanted to deny it, but knew he’d hear the lie, hear the desperation in my voice. The idea of him being absent from my life caused a sudden hollow throb in my heart.

  ‘You’re just like everyone else.’ Roman’s words seared through me like fire. ‘You think I'm a monster.’

  ‘I want to help you.’ I kept my voice strong, like nothing scared me. ‘We discussed how to fix this. Regardless of what torments you now, we have a solution and a way to make sure you stay well.’

  ‘Which would involve trusting your friend, Hallow, wouldn’t it?’ Roman withdrew into the shadows behind him. ‘He’s the one who took you to meet this other nephilim, so he’d be the one to help you…’ his face twisted, ‘manage me.’

  ‘Yes, he would help me. He’s our best chance.’ I kept to the whole truth this time, feeling that any hint of a lie at this point could see Roman run the other way. Whatever trust and friendship had sprung up between us now felt as fragile as glass, ready to shatter at a single wrong word.

  ‘I will not put my life in his hands.’ Roman took another step back. ‘I will take care of this myself.’

  My heart kicked faster, and I struggled to keep the panic from my voice. ‘Where will you go?’

  ‘There are many cracks in this city I could fall into, should I choose.’ Roman pulled his cowl up. ‘I need some time alone to think.’

  He walked off. I wanted to run after him and plead for him to stay, say that I was sorry and would do anything he asked of me. But my feet didn’t move. Instinct told me that to push at this point would shove him further away, so I just watched him leave. He came back to me once, I had to trust he’d come back again.

  Chapter 30

  Weary from lack of sleep, and strung-out from the trial at the Order, I returned home with heavy feet. Depression usually made me hungry, but after the fight with Roman I just felt nauseated. So I dragged myself to bed, my thoughts a river of turgid slush.

  The city clock was ringing out late afternoon by the time I stirred from a dreamless sleep. I felt better until my stomach reminded me it was empty and my heart reminded me it was broken. Downstairs, I raided the bakery bag, almost inhaling three sticky pastries while I waited for some fresh coffee to brew. Pouring a cup and blowing on the rich steam, I wandered into the living room. My eyes fell on Casper’s book, lying face down on one of my chairs. Settling down, I picked it up and flicked through it again, just to check if I missed anything. Any ray of hope or suggestion that might discredit the book entirely. The nephilim were the backbone of the Order, and the Grigori filled their heads with holy rhetoric from childhood, teaching them the art of violence for the supposed greater good. I was pretty sure if word got out about the books claims of the nephilim’s true bloodlines, the Grigori would have their hands more than full with some rather irritated nephilim.

  But the words in the book hadn’t ch
anged, and my injured heart sank lower. Putting the book aside, I pottered around in the kitchen, then sat down with a bowl of soup and watched the sun go down through the kitchen window. Nicola’s wedding celebration would be starting soon, and I had doubts about going. I wasn’t feeling up for radiant happy bride vibes. But as the shadows grew longer, I realised the last thing I wanted to do was sit around mooning about a man.

  Sorting through my wardrobe, and piles of clothes I hadn’t gotten around to hanging back up, I found a blue festive wrap dress I'd bought in the Outlands. Slipping my feet into my brocade Cavalli boots, I swept my curls into a French twist. Deciding to leave my bulky work-belt behind, I tucked a small pouch of salt into one of my boots, and a knife in the other, just to be safe. A girl could never be too careful.

  Buttoning up a saffron coloured coat, I locked my front door behind me and started walking, cane tapping against the pavement. A rickshaw with rattling engine cogs stopped for my hail and I told the driver where I wanted to go. He turned in his seat and gave me a knowing wink, asking if I was a guest of the Marrok family. I said I was, and he got me there faster than was technically safe. We stopped deep in the Quarter, at the mouth of a street that had been blocked off with large wine barrels. I got out and tipped the driver generously.

  Approaching the festivities, my feelings of doom and gloom lifted a fraction. Long tables ran down the road, covered with tablecloths in shades of purple and red. Wildflowers were strewn down the middle, dotted with glass jars filled with flickering candles and lanterns swung gently between gas street lamps. Fiddlers played near an iron fire pit, and women danced in front of them, bright skirts swirling to the music. I guess being a Marrok got you more than a civil ceremony and a jug of wine at the local saloon.

  I found Crowhurst on the outskirts of the festive crowd, and pulled him aside. ‘How did the ceremony go?’

  He grinned, and I smelled wine on his breath. ‘My mother cried. My cousins fought. My aunts got drunk. Business as usual in our family. If you’re looking for Orella, I saw her here a moment ago.’