Chaos Born

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Chaos Born Page 5

by Rebekah Turner


  My eyebrows knitted together, but Vivian shot me another one of her warning looks before she hurried over to check on the merchants by the fireplace.

  “Why do you like women with bodies like sticks, old man?” The Regulator with the gold teeth was laughing with a nasty expression. “What is there to hang on to when you ride?”

  I glanced at them and flushed when I saw Gold-teeth leering at me. He turned back to the table. “Now me,” he went on. “I need something to hold on to.” He made the accompanying gestures, humping the table. The men around the table roared with laughter and the Witch Hunter choked on his mouthful, spraying beer out his nose.

  I turned my back, not wanting them to see my embarrassment. Sure, I’d put on a little weight over the years, but it wasn’t like I was fat. I had curves, for Kianna’s sake.

  A girl with a fever-bright look draped herself next to me. “About time someone put those pricks in their place.”

  “Leave me alone,” I said, sourly eyeing her svelte figure.

  She pouted. “Don’t be like that, sweetie.”

  The barkeep was a roly-poly man with a handlebar moustache. He placed a wine glass of schnapps in front of me, unasked, and I slapped some coins down. The girl tracked the money as it disappeared under the barkeep’s meaty hand, looking wistful. “I could make your dreams come true,” she purred, moving closer to me.

  “I doubt that, honey. You don’t have the right equipment.” I took a sip of the schnapps. The taste was tart, pinching my tongue like sweet brine and my anxiety came down a notch. Nothing like a bit of mother’s milk to settle the nerves. Vivian’s voice came from behind me, directed at the girl.

  “Run along, Sienna.”

  The girl slunk away, shooting me a wounded look. I took the opportunity to glance behind me. The Regulators were now talking among themselves as if nothing had happened. The greybeard I had threatened had cleaned his neck of blood. His eyes meet mine and he threw me a kiss. I scowled and turned back to the bar.

  Chapter 6

  Vivian settled next to me on a stool.

  “Making new friends, I see.” She gave me a wide grin, displaying teeth that were a shade of tar. Anyone who didn’t know better might suggest a visit to a dentist was long overdue, but Vivian was part harpy and this decay was apparently considered quite the aphrodisiac.

  “They started it,” I grumbled. “And I’m not fat.”

  “Of course not, darling. You’re ample. Just curb your tongue, yes? You wouldn’t want The Order to scrutinise you too much, even if you are a Witch Hunter.” She tapped a claw on the counter, the ratty collection of feathers on her arms bristling. “They might convince you to join their ranks yet.”

  “Don’t call me that.” My face tightened. If they wanted to believe I dyed it, great for me. I didn’t need attention from The Order.

  The barkeep slid a glass of wine in front of Vivian, then carried a tray of full tankards to the Regulators. Vivian picked up her glass and took a sip. “Yes. So you’ve always claimed. But what is the saying? If it smells like a duck—?”

  “I’m not a Witch Hunter and you know it.”

  Vivian twitched her head to the side. “Yes. I am teasing you.” She sniffed the air and gave me a curious look. “But something has changed about you. It confuses me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You smell different.”

  I lifted an elbow and sniffed my armpit tentatively. “What do I normally smell like?”

  “A Witch Hunter,” Vivian replied blandly. “Was there something you wanted, Lora? Perhaps it is not prudent for you to stay much longer. As I understand, the Regulators were at a funeral today, and they plan to sink deep into their cups tonight. They’re paying double, so I’m allowing it. The opium pipes aren’t pulling in what they used to anymore and I need the cash.”

  I ran a finger over the rim of my wineglass, trying to focus my thoughts. “Have you heard of anything unusual in Applecross these days?”

  “Other than the mad cannibal running loose?” Vivian made a munching gesture with her mouth. “Devouring hands and feet? They say he is a giant, with eyes that glow like the fires in hell.”

  “Do you know anything that isn’t just rumour? Why do people think it’s a man?”

  “Only a male could have such bad taste to eat feet. Toes are disgusting.”

  “So you’re just guessing?”

  “It is a crime of madness. Darkcraft will lead men down that path,” Vivian replied. “And it is usually men who thirst for such power. All I know for sure is that the City Watch are trying to keep the crimes quiet.”

  I tried to think of how to frame my questions without revealing what Caleb had told me. “Do you know of what happened at the Church of Saint Pendergrast?”

  “The dead priests?” Vivian’s eyes widened slightly. “Only what’s being said in circles. Why do you ask?”

  “Your circles are different to mine. What have you heard?”

  “That a nephilim killed some priests in a Higher Path church,” Vivian lowered her voice, looking briefly over to the Regulators. “He is the one the Regulators are here to mourn. There has been too much violence of late. The moon rose through the star crown of the Priestess Hunter recently, creating a red moon. It is a sign of much blood to come. A very bad sign.”

  She dipped a blackened claw into her goblet and brought it to her lips, sucking the juice off and changing the subject. “I heard about your last job. Bad luck to lose a client that way.”

  “Not my finest hour,” I admitted.

  “I heard you killed your co-worker.”

  Running a hand across my eyes, I tried to push away Sigwell’s face from my mind’s eye. He had been fellow Runner at Blackgoat Watch, and the appointed exorcist for our client, David Bell: forty-five year old male, no wife or children, barrel-maker by trade, and recently possessed. I’d been assisting Sigwell. We’d worked together on a few jobs in the past and I didn’t mind the guy. I certainly hadn’t wanted to cut his head off. But he’d gotten infected with the demonic force we’d been there to banish, and when both men had attacked me, I’d been left with no choice but to defend myself. Wounded and dazed, I’d been whisked off to the closest hospital, which unfortunately was inside The Order’s compound. Fitting end to one of the worst nights of my life.

  “Benjamin the Bloody is offering good money for your head,” Vivian said. “Bad business to kill the brother of a pirate.”

  “Gideon will fix it.”

  Vivian smirked, cool eyes glancing down at my wine glass. “Thought that old goat had banned you from socialising. I take it you want this little visit to be kept between us.”

  I made a vague motion, annoyed at her Witch Hunter ribbing and lack of helpful information. “Don’t do me any favours. I was just leaving anyway.” I got off the stool too fast and one of Vivian’s claws snatched out; her predatory instinct kicking in. Her talons wound tight around my upper arm. I could feel the heat of her claws through my sleeve.

  “Easy now.” I made an effort to relax. “It’s me, Lora. Remember?”

  Vivian blinked a few times, her self-control reinstating itself. “Forgive me. I forget myself.” She released my arm and wiped her forehead, which had sprung a few beads of sweat. “You humans remind me of mice. All this scurrying about from one place to the next.” Her face relaxed into a crafty look. “Tell your benefactor my bed is lonely without him.”

  I opened my mouth to reply that I would rather eat live, hairy spiders, but decided it would be pointless; Vivian probably ate them as snacks. Nodding goodbye, I walked to the door. My senses strained to hear if one of the Regulators had a comment or objection to make, but it seemed their sport was done. I sucked my stomach in anyway.

  Stepping outside, I closed the door behind me and a frigid wind snatched at my breath. Shivering, I pulled my hood up. My cane slipped a little on the short wooden steps and I paused to regain my balance.

  A crowd of young drunken men jostled past me o
n their way up to the entrance, their voices pitched too loud. One of the men had black twine in his hair and I grinned. A drunken darkcraft wielder in a room with drunken Regulators. I was almost tempted to stay and watch.

  Almost.

  But I wanted to find Spink Clicker and ask him what he knew. A sad little bastard with an opiate habit, Spink was always looking to score. He worked in Daleman’s crew and had a talent for picking up useful gossip. I smiled at the thought of Caleb thanking me for capturing the killer and being in my debt. My fantasy expanded to me capturing the responsible killer, and the City Council bestowing honours on me, grateful for making the streets safe again. Well, as safe as they could be in Applecross. It would go a long way to restore my rather tarnished reputation. The way things were, no client was going to want to hire me, in case I accidently chopped their heads off.

  Taking the last step of The Scarlet Wren slowly, my right leg suddenly seized from the change in temperature and my mood curdled with the shooting pain. Low clouds brooded in the night sky and fat raindrops began to fall. I squinted into the alleyway. The unpaved road was clotted with murky shadows and small wisps of fog creeping over stones. Houses stretched up on both sides, three stories high. A street lamp sat thirty feet away, casting a sickly yellow pool on the cobblestones beneath it. A smell separated itself from the stink of waste and filth, catching in my nose. It was a keen smell, like orange skin in the sun and the citric odour stung my eyes. I recognised it as a sanctioned spell, the craft scrubbed clean of any pagan association, commonly used by lawmen.

  I sensed a presence approaching, but didn’t resist when hands reached from the gloom. They pushed me against the building and a familiar voice floated from the darkness.

  “Lora Blackgoat. What a pleasant surprise.”

  The spell of shadows broke and Captain Seth Hallow loomed over me. Behind him a flock of burly uniformed lawmen hurried up the staircase to The Scarlet Wren with heavy feet. Big ham-fists gripped billy clubs and crested custodian helmets were jammed low on furrowed brows.

  “Captain Hallow.” I turned my attention back to Seth. “What is that on your face?”

  He ran his fingers over the trimmed moustache and goatee. “You don’t like it?” he smiled. He wore an unbuttoned leather greatcoat which I was pretty sure wasn’t regulation, polished black boots and the stiff tunic uniform of the City Watch. His head was bare of a helmet, his short dark hair tousled from the wind. “My barber told me it’s very popular in the north.”

  “Only stone worshippers live in the north,” I sniffed.

  Angry shouts and the sound of furniture being broken came from inside of The Scarlet Wren. I winced. Vivian was going to be very, very angry about this. Not wanting her to think I had anything to do with the raid, I went to move away. Seth braced his arms either side of me, and pushed his lower body against mine, trapping me. I tried to push him off, but he managed my movements with ease. Glaring up at him, my pulse began to tap dance as his bright tawny eyes darkened with that look. The one that spoke of knotted bed sheets and kisses in all the right places. He released one of my wrists to run a lazy thumb across my jawline and down my throat. My breath quickened and my mouth ran dry. My body was an absolute traitor when it came to Seth, but it was the same from when I’d first seen him, fifteen years ago. I found him completely and utterly irresistible.

  Seth handled the law through the southern districts of Harken, which included the harbour and Applecross. He was a ruthless man, and though he had little interest in the finer points of the law he served, he held a strong sense of street justice, which I admired.

  “You shouldn’t be walking the streets so late at night,” Seth said.

  “I can take care of myself.”

  His face turned serious. “Haven’t you heard? There’s a crazed murderer loose in Applecross.” I arched my eyebrows and he amended, “Alright. A more crazed murderer than usual.”

  “The Butcher of Applecross?” It crossed my mind Seth might know something. “What do you think, Captain, a warlock gone mad?”

  Seth stared down at me with his bewitching amber eyes. “That’s one theory, dimples. Now how about a quick dance between those sturdy thighs of yours?”

  “I’m not fat,” I bristled.

  “Someone called you fat?” Seth looked amused. “Didn’t they know who they were talking to? How dangerous the Lady Blackgoat is with her hidden sword?” He leant in, soft lips brushing mine. His warm breath tickled my face and I smelt the expensive, musky cologne he always wore. “I know you’re not wearing your bladed boots,” he murmured. “Because I can see you’re wearing sexy Outland boots. Maybe you’ve a dagger tucked somewhere secret? I should search you in a more private arena. A woman carrying a concealed weapon is a minor offence, after all.”

  “What do you want, Seth?” I licked my lips, tried to pretend I was more annoyed than I was. From the heat of his stare, I knew what he wanted and if I was honest, I wanted it too. But I felt like it would be admitting to some sort of weakness and I couldn’t let myself show that. Weak people were targets and I wasn’t going to play victim.

  The corner of Seth’s mouth lifted, his gaze intensifying. One of his hands twisted around my braid, curling it around his fist and pulling gently. I knew he was silently reminding me what playtime with him was like. Seth was a man of the slap and tickle variety and there was a part of me that loved giving in to him, letting him have what he wanted. I grit my teeth, feeling the pull in my scalp sting. I didn’t mind a bit of hair pulling in the moment, but this just wasn’t the time.

  “Let me go, Seth.”

  Seth’s eyes searched mine, like he was searching for a sign, something that told him I didn’t mean it. He didn’t find what he was looking for, so he uncoiled some of the braid and lifted it to his nose, inhaling.

  “Come on, Seth. I’m pretty sure you didn’t come here for this. Why are you here?”

  Seth let go of my braid, and jerked his chin up to the entrance of The Scarlet Wren. “We got word there was a group of drunk Regulators. I’m here to send them home to the apron strings of the Grigori priests before any trouble happens.” He paused and we both heard bellows of fury coming from inside.

  “I think you’re a little late for that,” I said tartly.

  “Perhaps I should arrest you as well.” His voice was deceptively light, but his eyes sparked with easy anger. “This is no place for respectable women without an escort.”

  “I’m not that respectable,” I sniffed. “But I am law-abiding. I was just here to visit a friend.”

  Seth gave me with a considering look, then released his hold on me and stepped back. “I saw Caleb Haskett walk these streets before. Didn’t you two used to know each other? “

  I schooled my face, not wanting to tip Seth to Caleb’s intentions. Political manoeuvring and backstabbing were Seth’s speciality and I doubted Caleb could stoop low enough to defend himself.

  “I didn’t see him.” I shrugged. “I’d be surprised if he would come to an area such as this. I thought he was a devoted married man.”

  Seth watched me with a neutral expression, as if waiting for the truth. When none was forthcoming, he gave me a wolfish grin. “Perhaps we could come to some arrangement, in return for me allowing you to leave without any more inconvenience.”

  Straightening my shoulders, I opened my mouth to throw some curse words his way, but Seth cut me short, stepping close and pressing his lips against mine. His mouth was warm and tasted like dark wine. His tongue slid past my lips, rough and demanding.

  At this point, my body began to betray me. I could only say no to Seth for so long. Now my knees felt weak and blood rushed to my neck and face. I found myself kissing him back, my hands grabbing the lapels of his coat, wanting his arms around me. Seth’s hands snaked around my waist to cup my backside, pulling me against him. I felt him harden and hoped he wasn’t planning on doing anything too public. I was all for an outside shag, but now wasn’t the time.

  “C
aptain!”

  Seth broke away so fast I stumbled forward, falling into his chest. I pushed myself back, feeling my head spin. A wild-eyed Constable was standing at the entrance of The Scarlet Wren and I could hear shouting and swearing coming from inside. “We got drunk otherkin and Regulators in here, Captain,” the Constable said. “I think things are getting out of hand.”

  Seth threw back his head and laughed. “That’s the only way to do things in Applecross.” He winked at me. “I miss you, Lora. How about I visit you later tonight? I could climb up that tree outside your house and through your bedroom window, just like old times.”

  “I have other plans.”

  Seth grinned, reaching for me again. “Then I’ll find you, wherever you are in the city.”

  I skittered out of his reach. “We’ll see about that. Now, back off. I mean it.”

  Seth turned from me and I heard him murmur, “You always mean it.”

  Chapter 7

  I woke with a yelp and jolted upright, pain flaring hot in my shoulder at the sudden movement. The stitches in my back from Sigwell’s attack had been removed a week ago, but my exertions with Roper and subsequent adventures of the previous night seemed to have aggravated the sensitive skin. Without thinking, I reached for the missing charm around my neck, my fingers grasping air.

  “Nuts,” I groaned and lay back down, closing my eyes. My mouth felt furry, my throat parched. Horrible childhood nightmares had been leaking into my dreams the past few weeks. They were old twisted nightscapes, ones that left me weeping for comfort in the lonely hours of the morning. Cracking an eyelid open, I saw dawn was a rosy glow around the edges of my closed blinds. My bedroom was reassuringly familiar in the soft pink light. A battered wardrobe sat against the far wall, a vanity table was perched beside it and clothes and shoes were strewn over the floor.

  I rubbed my eyes, trying to chase away the remaining shreds of the nightmare. A deep sigh sounded and I gave a start, realising a familiar pair of shoulders lay beside me. A second groan escaped my lips and a headache started up a rapid tempo behind my eyeballs. I peered over the wide, tanned shoulders to see Seth’s eyes closed, his breathing regular. Goosebumps popped up on my skin as the morning air and cooling sweat registered. I shivered, burrowing back down under the covers. Seth yawned and rolled over, eyes still closed. He grabbed for me with a lazy hand and I pushed him away. “Don’t touch me,” I said crossly.

 

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