by Paula Weston
She drops her eyes. Another glance into the cafe. ‘Let me know before you go, okay?’
When she’s gone, I sit back in my wicker chair and watch the world pass by. Two women in bikinis and matching sarongs cross the esplanade, deep in conversation. They have the same pleasant round face and mousy hair. Mother and daughter. The younger woman uses her hands to demonstrate something and her mother throws her head back, laughs loudly. I swirl the coffee in my cup, catching the froth on the edges. I never had a moment like that with my mother—not even the fake one. The sun loses some of its comfort.
I pick at a piece of willow sticking up on the armrest. My real mother. What would it have been like to know her? To grow up in a coastal village in Italy with Jude, alongside Jason and his mother? The three of us maybe never fully understanding what we were, still having each other. But Nathaniel found Jude and me like he did the other half-angel babies, killed our mother and took us. Jason escaped his notice because he didn’t realise two women from the same village fell pregnant to the Fallen. So it was Jason who got to have a mother. Jason who got to be part of a family—a real family. I’ve never made friends easily, but a big Italian family? That would have been different.
Maggie is already coming back out of the cafe. Her eyes are locked on me, her steps stilted. There’s someone behind her, close, as if they’re waiting for an opportunity to pass. A flash of black hair.
Shit. Taya.
I push back my chair and stand up.
‘Calm down,’ she says to me over Maggie’s shoulder. ‘I didn’t come to fight.’ Her hair is pulled back in its usual militant ponytail.
‘Then step away from Maggie.’
Taya holds up her hands. ‘Not even touching.’ She doesn’t try to stop Maggie hurrying to my side of the table.
Taya is wearing a t-shirt the colour of a murky ocean. It’s the first time I’ve seen her out of black. The dressing on her neck is the only evidence of Tuesday night’s hellion attack.
‘What are you so twitchy about?’ she says. ‘You knew I was coming.’
She’s right. I should have been paying attention, not sitting here feeling sorry for myself.
‘Where’s Malachi?’
‘Not here. Where’s Rafa?’
‘Not here,’ I mimic. We watch each other for a few seconds. ‘If you didn’t come here to fight, what do you want?’
‘I’ve ordered a chai latte, so that’ll do for a start.’ Taya sits down, puts her feet up on the chair opposite. Her shoulders are loose and her face is relaxed—as relaxed as Taya gets, anyway—so maybe she’s not looking for trouble. Yet. It can’t be much comfort to Maggie. The last time Taya was this close she had a sword at her throat. A night and a day, that’s how long Taya, Malachi and Micah had Maggie at the resort up the mountain, using her to get to me. Though in fairness, Micah wasn’t a prick about it. He even seemed happy to see me when I turned up with Rafa, Ez and Zak.
None of them hurt Maggie, not really, but the experience still left scars. I’m looking at the damage right now. Maggie is next to me, fingers pressing into her elbows. Here on the esplanade, under a clear sky, she’s afraid. I hate that I’ve taken the safety of her home from her.
‘Can Mags get back to work without having to watch her back?’
‘We’re not going anywhere today.’
I don’t miss the emphasis on the last word. Taya looks out over the ocean, losing interest in our conversation. I only sit back down when Maggie is two tables away.
‘So, what, you’re going to stalk me now?’
Taya drags her attention back from the water. ‘Just following Daniel’s orders.’
‘Which orders, specifically?’
‘To keep you safe.’ She gives me an ironic smile.
I laugh. ‘I think we both know I’m safer without you around.’
‘Maybe. But without me here, you might think you can run off after the Fallen again.’
I let my head fall back in exasperation. There’s no point telling her yet again that I’m not interested in looking for the Fallen. But then I’m not telling her who I am looking for either.
‘Anyone would think Daniel still cared about you.’ She shakes her head in mock regret. ‘You should have stayed with him, Gabe. Walking away from him was your first big mistake. But I guess he got his own back in the cage.’
Another piece of my past I can’t quite get a handle on: I used to date a member of the Rephaite Council of Five. Maybe it would make more sense if I’d only seen a photo of Daniel—no doubt, he’s breathtaking. But there’s nothing I’ve seen about him this last week that explains any old attachment, and that was before he put me in the cage with the hellion.
‘So I’ll be keeping a close eye on you,’ Taya says. ‘But don’t fret, I know how to keep a low profile. I’ve got a job.’
I snort. ‘Where?’
‘With your barman.’
‘Since when?’
‘About ten minutes ago.’
‘Bullshit. Simon knows what you are. He’d never give you a job. Wait—did you threaten him?’
She shifts in her seat. ‘I may have pointed out that he knows things that could get him killed and it would be in his best interests to help me out.’
‘Rick won’t hire you just because Simon asks him to.’
‘Already sorted. Rick took a bit of a shine to me.’
‘To you? Doubtful.’
But she’s half angel, isn’t she? Her eyes are dark and perceptive and beautiful. She’s effortlessly graceful. It’s not inconceivable that someone who didn’t know her might find her attractive.
My new phone rings: Foo Fighters’ ‘My Hero’. Rafa picked the ringtone—his idea of a joke. I check the screen: Jason. I let it go to voicemail in case it’s a conversation I don’t want to have in front of Taya.
‘Who was that?’ she asks.
‘None of your business.’
‘Was it Simon?’
I settle back in my chair. ‘You worried he’ll find out you’ll be useless come happy hour?’
‘Please. I was tending bar before either of those boys were born.’
‘When? Before you realised your true calling was kicking heads?’
She gives me a curious look. ‘What is it you think we do?’
‘I…’ I stop. ‘You search for the Fallen.’
‘And how do you think we do that?’
I shrug. ‘Enlighten me.’ My cappuccino has gone cold. I finish it, feel the coffee slide down my throat, cool and bitter.
Taya smiles but there’s nothing friendly about it. ‘Who would have thought the day would come when I’d have to explain something to the great Gabriella.’
Oh, fuck off.
‘I wonder what Jude would think if he could see you now, all clueless and peace-loving.’
I push the thought aside before it digs in. ‘Get on with it.’
‘Fine.’ She turns back to the surf for a moment and we watch a kestrel wheeling across the sky in an effortless arc. ‘Semyaza and the rest of the Fallen are most likely in another dimension, maybe trapped there. Unless of course you and Jude set them free last year.’
I give her a filthy look.
‘Come on, what do you think you two were doing? What else but the Fallen would have brought you back together after all that time? And why all the secrecy if you weren’t doing something wrong?’
Taya waits for me to bite. I don’t. It’s not hard: we both know I can’t remember.
‘Anyway,’ she says, ‘that many supernatural beings couldn’t have crossed over without leaving a residual footprint.’
‘Like what?’
‘Natural disasters, sudden wars—’
‘Even after all this time? It’s been a hundred and forty years, hasn’t it?’
‘We’re talking about former members of the Angelic Garrison. We know their stint in hell dulled their glory, but they’re still angels and that sort of power doesn’t disappear. It seeps into everything and everyo
ne.’
‘Wouldn’t they have a good influence?’
‘They were fresh out of the pit. They would have reeked of the place.’
The kestrel loops towards the headland.
‘So when something weird or inexplicable happens, we check it out. Look around, chat to the locals, keep an eye out for demons. If pit scum are sniffing around, there’s a good chance they’re on to something. They have a better nose than us for that stuff.’
She’s talking about the surveillance jobs Daisy mentioned when I was at the Sanctuary. I wish it was Daisy sitting here explaining this to me, but she messaged me yesterday to say Daniel had ordered her to Syria to check out a demon sighting. One of the few Rephaim at the Sanctuary who doesn’t think I’m the enemy, sent on a sudden mission. Convenient.
‘And you work in bars to do that?’
‘Every two-horse town in the world has a bar or a coffee house. That’s where people talk.’
I pause. ‘Is that what I used to do?’
‘Only if you thought there was the chance of a fight.’
I turn my empty cup around on its saucer. ‘Semyaza was the ringleader, right? I don’t understand how Nathaniel lost contact with him in the first place. Didn’t all the Fallen escape hell together?’
‘Nathaniel didn’t sin again with the rest of them, so the bond they sealed before their fall was broken.’
What the hell were they thinking? Semyaza and two hundred angels get sent to hell thousands of years ago for seducing human women. They finally break out, and do the same thing all over again. Except Nathaniel. And now he and the Rephaim are obsessed with finding Nathaniel’s missing brothers.
‘Aren’t you even a little bit curious about them?’
‘No.’ She says it quickly, as if even thinking about it is wrong.
‘You’ve never wondered which one is your father?’
Taya’s eyes darken. ‘This is what hanging out with Outcasts does. It muddies the water. Don’t let Rafa fill your head with that crap.’
Maggie is on her way back with Taya’s latte. She comes to my side of the table, places the cup down and slides it across with one finger. She forces herself to look at Taya. ‘Anything else?’
‘I wouldn’t mind a chat with your boyfriend.’
Maggie stiffens. ‘Why?’
‘He needs to understand to keep his mouth shut.’
I hide my surprise. Taya still doesn’t know Jason is Rephaite. Does that mean Micah hasn’t told anyone he saw Jason shift with Maggie at the Retreat? Why would he keep that to himself?
‘Jason gets it,’ I say.
‘That doesn’t let him off the hook. And what about your idiot tattooed friends?’
‘The Butlers? Rafa’s taken care of it.’
Maggie clears my cup and goes back inside.
‘How’s the bite?’ I gesture to Taya’s neck.
‘Sore.’ Her eyes fall to my matching scar. Thanks to Rafa, the wound has almost completely healed, but there’s nothing I can do about the ugly marks left behind.
Taya blows on her tea. The smell of cloves and cinnamon wafts across the table.
‘Why did you do it?’
‘Do what?’ I know what she’s talking about. I want to hear her say it.
‘Why did you jump in front of the hell-spawn?’ She watches me. It’s totally messing with her head that I saved her life on the mountain.
‘Let’s call it bad judgment.’
She doesn’t say anything. We both know it was more complicated than that.
My phone vibrates with a message. It’s Jason. He’s waiting at the bungalow. I need to go, but I can’t look as though I’m in a hurry.
‘So, what’s Malachi going to do when he gets here? Wash glasses? Be Rick’s door bitch?’
‘He’s got priorities elsewhere for the moment.’
‘Something more important than antagonising me? Must be big.’ And then it hits me: maybe the Rephaim have a lead on the Fallen. Maybe Daisy’s job in Syria is more than an excuse to distract her from what’s happening in Pan Beach. My stomach flutters. I have no idea if that’s good or bad news.
Taya stands up. ‘I need to settle in. Don’t go anywhere.’
Settle in? ‘Where are you staying?’
‘Above the bar.’
Simon and Rick live above the bar.
‘I told Rick I hadn’t booked anywhere yet. He offered me their spare room until I find my feet.’ She grins.
Across the road, a huge wave smashes onto the beach, bringing a cheer from the surfers watching from the sand. Taya living with Simon. I can only imagine how he feels about that.
‘You worried about your barman?’
‘Leave him alone, Taya. He doesn’t care about us. He wants to forget we exist.’
Her eyes sharpen. ‘How many humans do you think know about the Rephaim?’
It’s a rhetorical question so I don’t bother answering.
‘Right now, about three dozen, and most of those are monks at the Sanctuary. That puts your friends here in a very elite group.’
‘And whose fault is that? If you and Malachi hadn’t turned up, they’d still be oblivious.’
‘No, Gabe, if you hadn’t turned up they’d be oblivious.’
Out past the waves, the kestrel hovers over the water, riding the wind. It beats its wings once, twice, and dives for the surface, disappearing behind the swell.
‘Then that makes my friends my responsibility,’ I say, measuring my words. ‘I’ll take care of it.’
Taya laughs. ‘Nice try. Daniel’s given me the job and, unlike other people at this table, I know how to follow orders. So’—she drains her tea—‘I’ll take care of your mess.’
LAST CAT IN THE BAG
‘I’m not going anywhere without telling him.’
‘Gaby, he can’t know.’ Jason is standing in the kitchen, his whole body tense. Sunlight streams through the window, turns his hair an even lighter shade of honey.
‘What do you think he’s going to do when he finds out I’ve gone somewhere with you? He’s already pissed off about what you’ve been up to.’
Jason shakes his head. ‘We need to go now.’
‘I have to tell him.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the last time I went off without him I ended up in a cage with a hellion.’ I say it without thinking, and for a brief sickening moment I’m back behind the diamond-shaped wire, lying on blood-soaked sawdust. Jason frowns and I’m guessing he’s remembering how torn up I was when he and Rafa found me. He moves to the kitchen window to let in fresh air. The newspaper flutters on the bench where Rafa left it.
‘There’s only one way to get what I need to protect Maggie and he can’t be a part of it,’ he says.
We’ve been arguing about this since I got here five minutes ago. I don’t even know what it is Jason wants to do—only that it involves shifting somewhere without telling Rafa. But I know what we agreed to: that someone be with Maggie at all times unless she’s at work, and even then we take turns checking on her. I’ve told him Taya’s in town and even that hasn’t swayed him.
‘At the very least, he can be here to keep an eye on Mags,’ I say.
‘We’ll be gone a few minutes. Maggie will be safe at work and—’
‘Jason, do you trust Rafa?’
‘This isn’t about trusting him.’
‘But do you?’
The sea breeze carries through the open window, making Jason’s curls sway across his forehead. ‘To a point. But what we need to do, where we need to go…it’s big. I don’t know how he’ll take it, and I don’t trust what he’ll do with the information.’
All Jason wants is to keep Maggie safe. But as much as Rafa is unpredictable—and has secrets of his own—I can’t keep this from him. He’s annoyed at me enough right now: I don’t want to push him any further. Or push him away.
And we’re not leaving Maggie alone.
‘Gaby, the sooner we do this, the sooner you
can look for Jude.’ Jason’s eyes have softened as though he understands the fear I wrestle with every night. I don’t care if he does—there’s no way I’m talking about it.
‘I’m not going anywhere until I talk to Rafa.’
Jason rubs the back of his neck, sighs. ‘I’m not kidding. He’s not going to take this well.’
‘He doesn’t take anything well. But he needs to know and he’ll get over it.’
Rafa’s number rings four times before he answers. ‘What’s up?’ He sounds out of breath.
‘Taya’s here.’
Silence.
‘And Jason’s back.’
‘And?’
‘He needs me to go somewhere with him and—’
‘Where are you now?’
‘The bungalow.’
‘Where does he want to take you?’
Jason watches me, silhouetted against the sunlit window.
‘He won’t say. But I thought—’
Rafa materialises in the room, wearing grey trackpants and a black singlet, his phone still to his ear. He’s covered in a light sheen of sweat and his hair is messy. He tosses the phone on the table. ‘What now, Goldilocks?’
‘You could have finished what you were doing,’ I say. ‘I wasn’t going anywhere.’
‘I can throw punches here just as well as in Mexico.’
Jason gives me a pointed look. ‘Yes, this was a terrific idea.’
I step between them. ‘Hey.’ I get Rafa’s attention. ‘I’m trying to keep you in the loop here. Don’t make me regret it.’
He eyes me for a moment, stretches one arm across his chest, then the other. The nick on his shoulder is completely gone. ‘What’s the story?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ I say.
Jason’s fingers are splayed on his hips. He stares down at the faded black and white lino. We wait. Finally, he lets out a deep, defeated sigh.
‘There’s a way to keep Mags safe…’ I prompt him.
He glances at Rafa. ‘There are others who know about the Rephaim. A group of women in America.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ Rafa says.
Shit. I pull out a chair and sit down. Every time I think I’ve got a handle on Jason…
‘I met them in New York, in the summer of 1940—’