Chaos Bound

by Rebekah Turner

  ‘Get out now or I'll snap your fucking fingers off.’

  The man’s eyes rose to stare at my hair, then he placed the lampshade down and hurried out of the shop. The women followed him, shooting alarmed looks at each other, the fur coat forgotten.

  Taunton’s eyes were wary. ‘Was that really necessary?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He gave me an unconvincing smile, one hand slipping below his cash register. ‘Two visits in one day, Lora. I might be tempted to feel a bit special. What do you want this time, and what in the god’s name are you wearing? Those pants are indecent. They look like they’ve been painted on.’

  I ignored the dig at my clothes. I wasn’t a fan of skinny jeans either, but I had bigger problems than controlling my muffin top. ‘You remember we talked about my friend, Reuben Crowhurst, pawning his weapons here? I need to borrow some of them.’

  ‘That merchandise has moved on,’ Taunton said smoothly.

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Be reasonable, Lora.’

  ‘Tried it once. Didn’t take.’

  Taunton’s polite mask slipped. His nostrils flared, and a winter-cold anger filled his eyes. ‘Do you really want to threaten me?’

  ‘I'll do what I have to.’ My fingers twitched towards my belt. ‘But I'm not walking out of here without what I need.’

  I pinched salt a second before Taunton yanked a flintlock up. Casting a hex, the grains sizzled to life and knocked the flintlock aside, just as Taunton pulled the trigger. The lead shot slammed into the wall behind me. Taunton rubbed his hand. ‘Hellfires, Lora. That hurt.’

  ‘You shot at me,’ I said accusingly.

  ‘I wasn’t really going to hit you. What do you expect me to do, when you come in here, bristling with violence and asking after things you know you can’t afford?’

  I turned to lock the front door, then walked towards Taunton with slow, deliberate steps. ‘Maybe I'm not buying the guns. Maybe I'm borrowing them. How about that?’

  ‘This isn’t a library. Why are you behaving like this? What wrong have I done you?’

  Stepping up to the counter, I placed my hands flat against the glass top, fingers splayed wide. ‘Where is the Silver Dragon, Taunton?’

  He gave an injured sniff. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Nice of you to drop me clues about what Grogan was up to.’ I leaned forward and the glass counter creaked under my hands. ‘But Grogan’s taken a griorwolf friend of mine, so now I'm going to get him back. For which, I need weapons, and the location.’

  ‘I don’t know where the Silver Dragon is, Lora. You must believe me.’

  ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘I swear I'm not.’ Taunton shook his head. ‘Only the elite of the city are invited. Even then, they are blindfolded and transported in by carriage with no windows. No-one knows where it is, except the Reapers.’

  My lips tightened, but a glance at his aura told me he was telling the truth. ‘I'll just find it myself then. But first, I need weapons.’

  ‘I can’t just give you my stock, Lora.’ His voice didn’t carry much conviction. ‘If I let you walk all over me, everyone with a cause will think they can do the same.’ His eyes took on a sly look. ‘Besides, what good are Outland weapons to you?’

  I flashed my dimples. ‘This, coming from the man who trades in information? I think you know the answer already.’

  An excited look passed over his face. ‘I heard the rumour you fired an Outland shotgun inside the city once. You can use Outland machinery within the borders of The Weald, can’t you.’

  ‘Why don’t you show me the guns, and maybe I'll tell you all about it.’

  He motioned me towards the back and I followed him into his office. Taunton bent behind his desk, fingers reaching underneath. My fingers dipped into one of my belt’s salt pouches, ready, when I heard a click as Taunton pressed a lever. A sound of grinding gears came from behind the far wall. Then, another click, and a section of the far wall swung inwards.

  Taunton stepped inside the dark room. Following, I kept one hand near my salt pouch. A switch snapped and a gas lamp bloomed with light, flooding the hidden room in tones of tarnished gold.

  ‘Sweet Kianna’s tits.’ I looked around. Outland guns of every description hung on the walls, others arranged carefully on shelves. The weapons were polished to shine, and the assortment made me want to clap my hands and squeal.

  ‘Impressive, aren’t they?’ Taunton sounded like a proud father. ‘The acquisition from your friend turned my collection into one of the best in the city.’

  ‘What about ammunition?’ I ran my fingers over a fancy looking nickel-plated pistol with mother-of-pearl grips.

  ‘I have some, but not as much as I'd like.’ He shrugged. ‘Never much point, you understand?’ He picked up a compact submachine gun. ‘This is a Škorpion. It’s like a shoulder-mounted machine pistol. You can fire it like a pistol, or slap it into your hand and the stock unfolds for more stability.’

  ‘Ammo?’

  ‘Two magazines.’ Taunton picked up a leather shoulder strap for the gun to clip on to, a couple of pouches holding the magazines.

  I took the weapon and tested the weight, finding it lighter than I thought it would be. Taking off my coat, I slipped on the straps, then unfolded the gun’s shoulder stock and tucked the wire into the crook of my shoulder. Taunton passed me a magazine and I loaded it, snapping back the two lugs on either side of the weapon to load a bullet in the chamber. Taunton watched me hungrily, as if he thought I was going to fire it there and then.

  I double-checked the safety was engaged and hooked the gun onto the straps, the gun snug against my side. Shrugging back into my coat, the gun was hidden from view.

  A pistol lying on one shelf caught my eye. It was a small gun, with a flat style. I picked it up and grinned at Taunton. ‘Please tell me you have bullets for this little baby.’

  ‘Have you handled a Walther PPK before?’

  ‘No, but I've watched all the James Bond movies. Point and shoot, right?’

  ‘Sounds about right.’ Taunton smiled. ‘Don’t suppose you’d give me a demonstration?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘That’s not being very nice, considering you’re currently robbing me. Don’t try to tell me you’re giving them back either, because I wouldn’t believe it for a moment.’

  ‘I'm walking into a shit storm, Taunton. Best I'm armed for it.’

  ‘You could walk away from it all. You don’t have to do this.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  He gave a soft chuckle. ‘Since when did you have such a conscience? The Lora Blackgoat I knew only cared for drinking and gambling. Decided to become some sort of masked avenger?’

  The Walther got tucked into the back of my pants. ‘I'm not wearing any masks.’

  Taunton’s eyes took a greedy look. ‘Can you tell me how it is you are able to use Outland weapons? Is it a Witch Hunter ability? Or something to do with your mother? I heard she was a talented witch.’

  ‘Sorry. I've got no answers for you.’

  ‘Spoil sport.’ Taunton was rubbing a hand over his mouth, as if he was trying to make up his mind about something.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  ‘I heard about Regulator Roman, and his unfortunate situation.’

  I wondered if Taunton had information. ‘Do you know where he is?’

  He looked surprised. ‘I thought he’d be with you.’

  Disappointment stung and I turned away, pretending I was suddenly very interested in an old Tommy gun hanging on the wall. ‘He’s not. He may not have the sickness. We don’t know for sure.’

  ‘Since you’re probably going to die on this suicide mission, I will give you something else for free.’ He paused, making sure he had my attention.

  I turned from the Tommy gun, and waited.

  ‘I heard something once. About the nephilim sickness,’ he said. ‘There was a suggestion that it’s not so
me flawed hereditary of the breed. Rather, the berserker rage is an effect from a poison.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Think about it, Lora. What better way to control a race than to instil in them the fear of insanity? All the Grigori need to do when a nephilim becomes hard to control is administer the poison. They wait until it takes effect, mimicking madness, and have him dispensed with.’ Taunton gave a shrug. ‘Of course, no-one has ever done an autopsy on a sick nephilim to confirm this.’

  I rubbed my arms. ‘What was your source?’

  Taunton tapped the side of his nose. ‘A reliable one. Not to mention, it’s the sort of dirty trick the Grigori would pull.’

  I wondered if my burgeoning relationship with Roman would have been enough of a red flag for Fowler. Enough for him to want to see Roman dead.

  The bell rang out from the shop and Taunton hustled me out of the room. I adjusted my coat to make sure the guns were hidden and murmured my thanks.

  ‘You know what a better thanks is, Lora?’ He gave a sniff. ‘Information. When you start working for the Grigori, I might just come and collect.’

  Chapter 39

  I stepped outside Taunton’s shop, pausing by the car to gather my thoughts. The submachine gun sat well under my coat, and the Walther a reassuring weight at my back. A warm breeze danced down the street, ruffling loose curls around my head and I paused to take in a breath.

  ‘Lora?’

  I saw Cloete standing behind me, arms crossed. Her tail moved behind her in nervous jerks and a nasty purple bruise ringed her neck.

  ‘Hello, Judas.’ My smile was grim. ‘Has mother dearest sent you to finish the job?’

  Cloete’s tail drooped. ‘You hurt my sisters. Melody’s in a coma.’

  ‘She’s lucky I didn’t kill her. How did you find me?’

  ‘You’re not the only one with a handful of Mercury Boys in your pocket.’

  I nodded at the bruise. ‘Nice necklace.’

  She shifted, unfolding her arms. The movement made me pinch salt, held at the ready. I had some cool guns, but I wasn’t ready to shoot Cloete. Yet.

  The otherkin’s face fell. ‘I don’t know how to make this right.’

  ‘Make it right for whom?’ I asked. ‘Me, or Velkov?’

  ‘I can give you information.’

  ‘Why would I trust you?’

  Cloete spoke quickly. ‘Mother got financial backing from some big shot called Ivor Grogan.’

  ‘You don’t say,’ I mused.

  ‘All the Runners she gets from Blackgoat will be used to help with Grogan’s business ventures.’

  ‘What kind of ventures?’

  ‘He’s got a factory, somewhere in the city, mass producing some drug.’

  ‘Rapture?’

  Cloete nodded. ‘You’ve heard of it?’

  ‘Sweetheart, I sampled it,’ I said.

  ‘I'm not adverse to the occasional job of ill repute,’ Cloete said, sounding like she wanted to explain herself. I had limited patience at this point, but forced myself to listen. ‘But Blackgoat Watch at least had a backbone of respectability. It made me feel good, working for Gideon.’

  ‘Sounds like you’ve got an acute attack of conscience.’ I dusted the salt from my fingers. Seems Cloete wanted to kiss and make up, not kill me. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I told mother…Velkov…my concerns.’ Cloete touched her throat. ‘She didn’t appreciate it.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’ I repeated.

  ‘I was with her this morning when she met with Grogan at this estate he has, past the city walls.’ Cloete’s mouth turned down. ‘I saw them bring in Crowhurst when we were leaving.’

  ‘Was he still alive?’ I asked quickly.

  ‘He wasn’t in great shape. There are holding cells inside Grogan’s stables. That’s where they would have taken him.’ She gave me a shaky smile. ‘Thought you might like some help busting that moron out.’

  ‘You ever hear anyone talk about a place called the Silver Dragon?’ I asked.

  ‘No. What is it?’

  ‘Where I thought they’d have Crowhurst. But your eyes on him at Grogan’s estate is good enough for me. Let’s go rescue the bastard.’

  ‘Who’s coming with us?’

  ‘So far? Just you and me.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ Cloete squeaked. ‘No-one else?’

  ‘That’s right,’ I told her. ‘I'm busting him out. I'm busting Nicola Grogan out, too. I'm going to kill anyone who stands in my way. You in?’

  Cloete blinked a few times at me and it took me a few moments to realise why my chest burned. I was holding my breath. Cloete grinned.

  ‘Fuck yeah, I'm in.’

  Chapter 40

  Cloete gripped the side of her seat with one hand, staring at me like I'd grown a second head. Her other hand was holding the machine gun I'd unclipped from its holster and passed to her. We bounced in our seats as I hit a hole in the road, and I tried my best to ignore the otherkin’s burning gaze. We’d just left the city and were heading at a good clip towards Grogan’s country estate.

  ‘You’re not lying?’ Her voice was strained.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You can use Outland weapons…here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And…you’re not lying?’

  I glanced at her. ‘Haven’t we covered that already?’

  Cloete’s eyes dropped to the gun in her lap. ‘I really hope you’re not lying.’

  ‘I'm not.’

  ‘What’s the plan?’

  ‘Plan?’ I jerked the wheel, swerving around another hole in the road. Cloete gripped her seat and the gun harder. ‘You’re holding the plan.’

  Cloete fell silent. Alarm tripped my thoughts, warning me she couldn’t be trusted. Maybe this was the most obvious of traps: an old friend, showing up at just the right moment, offering to help. I wanted to believe more than anything that Cloete was on the level, but how could I be sure?

  I braked as we reached the end of what covering the forest could afford us from Grogan’s estate. I let the car idle. Cloete looked at me, apprehensive, and I narrowed my eyes at her.

  Her aura wavered in my vision and a tongue of fire wisped around her head, swirling red and gold. The burn of chilli and cardamom flooded my mouth, and relief washed over me. Cloete might have a hard-on for violence, but her conscience was clear, and she was no liar. Satisfied I could trust her, I took the machine gun and clipped it back on, before closing my coat and pulling the hood up, covering my hair.

  ‘You sure you want to come with me?’ I asked.

  ‘I'm sure.’ Cloete’s aura didn’t waver, not even at the edges. I blinked away the vision, satisfied she wasn’t aware of any traps laid for me. If Maya had set anything up, then we were both going to be her prey.

  ‘We’ll try bluffing this,’ she suggested. ‘Drive up to the estate. They should recognise me. I'll say I'm on an errand for mother.’

  I wrestled with the gearstick and drove towards the estate. ‘Do you think they’ll buy it?’

  Cloete’s blew me an air kiss. ‘Trust me. I'll be convincing.’

  We drove the rest of the way in a tense silence. All too soon, the estate loomed before us and I braked. Cloete put her hand on the door handle, eyes alight with excitement, like she was having fun. She got out and approached the guard house, hips rolling seductively, tail curled loose around one thigh. The main gate opened and a guard walked across the lowered drawbridge, a multi-crossbow aimed at the car.

  ‘Identify yourself,’ he called.

  ‘Cloete Velkov.’ She sauntered across the lowered drawbridge at a leisurely stroll, hands in clear view. ‘I'm Maya Velkov’s daughter. She sent me to pick something up from the stables.’

  She moved in close to the guard, lowering her voice. I wound my window all the way down and strained my ears, but couldn’t pick up what they were saying. The guard’s weapon dipped, and he cast a suspicious look my way. My knuckles turned white around the
steering wheel, but I stared back with a bored expression, like maybe I had better things to be doing. Cloete whispered something in his ear, then laughed. The guard’s attention shifted back to her, his shoulder’s relaxing. Glancing up, I noticed a pair of guards in the guardhouse also watching Cloete. I smiled grimly. Had to love that succubus gene.

  The guard with Cloete nodded, then waved at me, indicating I could drive across. I edged forward, stopping to pick Cloete up on the bridge. She got in and slammed the door behind her.

  ‘Drive towards the back, head for the building with the red tiled roof.’

  I drove through the gates, giving the guard a nod as we passed and he watched me with an unfriendly expression. Guards patrolled the property and I noticed some even on the rooftop of the main house as well, armed with long-range multi-fire crossbows. Following Cloete’s instructions, I drove along a gravel pathway and around to the back of the sprawling house. Braking, we both got out of the car and approached the stables like we owned the place.

  We were nearly at the door when it swung open. Cloete and I froze as Chai limped out, one thigh wrapped in a tight bandage. Her eyes flew wide and one hand scrabbled for the wheellock holstered at her hip.

  ‘Wait, sister.’ Cloete stepped forward, hands raised. ‘Let me explain.’

  Hate rippled across the ugly otherkin’s face. ‘Traitor.’

  Shouting erupted from behind us and Chai raised her wheellock. The Škorpion snapped into my hands. I fired a single shot and Chai fell back with a scream.

  ‘No!’ Cloete whirled and knocked the barrel of my gun aside. Something whistled by my face and a bolt thudded into Cloete’s shoulder, knocking her over. I spun, unhooked the gun and flipped the wire stock out. Bracing it against my armpit, I flicked the gauge to multi-shot and squeezed the trigger. The gun rattled, spraying a burst of bullets along the side of the building house, just short of the men who were firing at us. Bolts slammed into the ground near me in answer, spitting up gravel. I backed up and shoved Cloete towards the warehouse, covering us with bursts of gunfire. Chai writhed on the ground to my left, hand clamped around her bleeding side. I pushed Cloete inside the warehouse, but a shower of bolts stopped me from following. I flattened myself in the doorway.