by Paula Weston
I nearly open my mouth. I nearly tell him what scares me the most, but I can’t deal with those thoughts. Not in this tiny space. Not holding these photos from that other life. I put them aside.
‘Did you tell Ez and Zak where we were going?’ I ask.
‘Only vaguely.’
‘They’ll keep an eye on Mags till we get back, right? They wouldn’t leave her?’
‘Not unless something came up.’
Not much of a reassurance. My body is shivering. God, I need to get moving. We really have to get out of here.
‘You sure you didn’t sense demons when we arrived?’
‘I told you—’
‘I know, I’m just asking.’
He turns away from the wall to face me. ‘If they’d shifted here in the last few hours, I’d feel it. So would you.’
I think back to that moment up the mountain when we rescued Maggie, when we crept through the forest and my stomach dropped so fast I thought I was falling.
That’s what it feels like when Rephaim shift.
‘It’s the same with demons?’
‘About a thousand time worse.’
I nod. Wet my lips.
‘Gaby.’ He doesn’t come closer, but the quietness in his voice settles my racing pulse. ‘I don’t like this any more than you do. I hate closed spaces. I always take the stairs over a lift.’
I scoff. ‘You’ve never walked a flight of stairs in your life.’
A wry smile. He’s trying to make me feel better. ‘True. But I meant what I said: there are no pit scum here. Whatever is going on, we’ll deal with it.’
I pull myself together. ‘So, who’s missing from the photos?’
‘Nobody.’
‘You sure?’
‘I’ve counted twice. There are a hundred and eighty-two of us, all up. We’re all here.’ He tosses the pencil and paper back onto the desk. ‘Actually there’s a hundred and eighty-three if you count Goldilocks. He’s not there.’
‘They didn’t need his photo. They know what he looks like—and he’s never been part of the Sanctuary.’
‘Goldilocks could have taken the surveillance shots, but someone still had to tell him where to be and that person had to be at the Sanctuary.’ Rafa picks up the stool by the desk and smashes it into the nearest wall.
‘Hey!’ My pulse begins to hammer. I thought he was okay. If he’s not, how can I be? ‘Calm down.’
He gives me a level look. ‘I am calm. I thought we should take a closer look at these walls.’
‘Oh.’ The adrenaline subsides. ‘Good idea.’
I stand back while he swings the stool again and then I pry back the busted plasterboard. There’s a beaten metal wall underneath. I tap it with my knuckle. It’s solid. Rafa throws the stool aside and we tear a bigger hole.
‘That has to be iron,’ he says. ‘I don’t get it.’
The surface is covered in intricate marks. Rafa drags the lamp over from the corner, rips off the shade and holds the bare bulb close to the exposed wall. The marks are actually symbols: a recurring icon that looks like a rudimentary set of wings.
‘Have you seen anything like this before?’
Rafa traces the symbols with his fingertips. ‘Never.’ He runs a palm along his jaw. ‘This room…it changes everything.’
‘How could they know how to do this?’
He’s still studying the etchings. ‘Whoever gave them floorplans and photos could have found something in Nathaniel’s library.’
‘But that would mean Nathaniel knows it’s possible to trap Rephaim.’
Rafa rips another piece of plasterboard from the wall. Photos come loose and flutter to the floor. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time he’s kept something from us, would it?’ We keep pulling the wall apart until one whole side of the room is exposed. The air is thick with plaster dust. We stand back and wait for it to settle.
‘Holy shit.’
Up close, the marks were haphazard and random, some deeper and darker than others. But now I see the darker etchings aren’t random at all. They create another larger set of wings. Not rudimentary ones like the individual markings, but detailed feathered wings, outstretched so the tip of each extends to the corners of the wall.
I pull out my phone and photograph it. It takes two attempts; my hand isn’t steady enough the first time.
There’s a heavy thud on the door. We both turn around and take a step back. The impact comes again, shaking more plaster and dust loose.
Rafa nods at me, moves into a fighter’s stance. I snatch up the journal and do the same, but it doesn’t feel natural. I feel numb, outside myself, unfocused. We’re unarmed. Alone. Rafa moves so he’s slightly in front of me.
More thumps. Ten of them. Twenty. Then something gives inside the iron door. A few seconds later, it’s forced back until there’s a gap large enough for someone to fit through.
I feel my pulse in my fingertips, my throat.
And then my heart stutters.
FLY IN THE OINTMENT
‘I should leave you in here to rot.’
Mya stands inside the room, katana in hand, pushing long blonde hair from her face. There’s no mistaking her. In the photos I couldn’t see the colour of her eyes, but it turns out they’re blue, iridescent even, smeared with kohl.
‘It’s been a year, Rafa. And the first I hear from you is when you need help.’
‘Nobody here asked for your help.’ His voice is tight. She looks me up and down. ‘When were you going to tell me she was alive?’
‘Are you here to help or interrogate?’ Rafa eyes the opening behind her.
‘Both. You pick the order.’ And then to me, ‘No smartarse comments, Gabe? No critique on our rescue methods?’
‘You’re wasting your breath. She doesn’t know you.’
‘So I’ve been told.’ She raises her sculpted eyebrows at me. ‘Is that right?’
‘Yep,’ I say. ‘A fact that’s making me happier by the second.’
Her eyes drop to the journal. ‘What’s that?’
‘Something we can discuss outside.’ Rafa takes my hand and leads me through the narrow opening. We could probably shift now, but I guess he doesn’t want to risk hitting the wall. Just in case. He lets go of me as soon as we’re clear.
Ez and Zak are waiting. Rafa’s closest friends—aside from Jude. The photos in the room don’t do either of them justice. Zak is so much bigger than he can ever look on camera and Ez…Ez is breathtaking, even with the deep scars down her face and neck. But if they’re here, who’s watching the cafe?
‘Is Mags okay?’ My breath is still short.
‘She’s fine,’ Ez says. ‘Are you?’
I nod. She and Zak are with an Outcast I haven’t met. At their feet is a large, blunt metal pipe with handles.
‘Only you could get in this much strife in a couple of hours,’ Zak says to Rafa.
Flames still dance behind the grill of the pot-bellied stove. Wind buffets the house. There’s no sign of Sophie. Or Jason.
‘You used the ram.’ Rafa is grinning—giving no hint he was hurling himself at a wall not half an hour ago.
‘Yeah, so take it back.’ Zak pushes thick black curls out of his eyes.
‘I stand corrected: it’s not a useless piece of crap. How did you know we were in a jam?’
‘Jason found us at the cafe.’
Some of the tension leaves me. Jason’s okay. He went for help. He didn’t just leave us here.
‘Where is he now?’ I ask Ez.
‘Back in Pan Beach.’
‘What about Sophie, the girl who was here?’
‘Gone by the time we arrived.’
Behind her, the other Outcast is staring at me as if there’s nobody else in the room.
‘That’s Jones,’ Ez says.
Jones nods at his name. His black hair frames a beautiful, angular face that is vaguely familiar from the photos in the room. He only cuts eye contact when Rafa steps into his line of sight. Jone
s breaks into a wide smile, his almond-shaped eyes crinkling. ‘Dude, where have you been?’ He pulls Rafa into a hug and slaps him between the shoulders.
I look back into the iron room. Mya has pulled a photo from the wall and is studying it. Her mouth is set in a thin line, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I can’t tell if she’s furious—or spooked. She sees me watching her, flings the picture aside and comes out.
‘What happened last year? How are you alive?’
I glance at Rafa. If he wanted her to know Jude might be alive too, he would have told her already.
‘I don’t know.’
Her eyes are glittering, darker now. ‘How can you just stand here like it’s nothing? If Jude hadn’t run off with you—’
‘Mya.’ Rafa’s voice is sharp. ‘Back off. She doesn’t remember.’
‘So she gets a free pass? After everything that’s happened? What are you doing with her anyway?’
‘What Jude would have wanted: keeping her alive.’ Rafa’s angry now. Really angry. ‘Between the Sanctuary and the Gatekeepers—’
‘You want me to feel sorry for her? Come on, Rafa. Remember what she’s done to us. To you.’
The way she looks at him, it’s as if the rest of us have vanished. Ez, Zak, Jones, me. Especially me. They watch each other. The air is charged with their history. I feel strangely exposed standing between them.
‘After all’—Mya holds Rafa’s eyes, doesn’t look at me at all—‘Gabe is the reason Jude is dead.’
Ez stirs beside me. Zak is looking down, tapping his boot against the battering ram. I feel ill.
‘Out of curiosity,’ I say to Mya, ‘did Jude tell you what he and I were going to do?’ The words are cotton wool in my mouth but I get them out. Screw this stinging behind my ribs. Screw this guilt. Screw her sanctimonious bullshit. Screw her.
She doesn’t answer. She’s still looking at Rafa.
‘No? Then you might want to shut your mouth.’
Rafa moves, shakes his head, and Mya turns to me.
‘Are you threatening me, Gabe?’
‘All right,’ Ez says. ‘Let’s dial this back a notch.’
Mya glares at her. ‘I can’t believe you kept this from me. Gabe. Alive.’
‘No,’ Ez says. ‘I can’t imagine why I’d hold off giving you that piece of information. A more pressing issue is what we do about that.’ She points to the iron room.
Mya looks past Ez. Then she disappears—literally—and reappears inside the room. Just as quickly, she’s back with us. ‘It’s useless now the door’s broken.’
‘For now,’ Rafa says.
‘Should we try to break the walls somehow?’ I ask, but really all I want is to leave. This place feels hollow, soulless, nothing more than a shell. And we’re an easy target here behind the glass. It doesn’t matter that Rafa and I aren’t alone any more.
‘It was hard enough getting through the door,’ Zak says and shows me his hands, which look a little raw. ‘We’ll need something bigger.’
Mya checks me over again, a smile that’s not a smile. ‘As I said, it’s useless now the door’s broken.’
‘Don’t you want to know how they worked out how to do that?’ Rafa asks her. ‘Aren’t you interested in who’s feeding them floorplans and happy snaps?’
‘And who are you going to ask? Nobody’s coming back while we’re here.’ Mya rests her hands on slender hips. ‘And tell me: who’s this Jason and how come we’ve never heard of him? Care to explain, Gabe?’
Seriously.
I flex my fingers. ‘Nobody knew he was Rephaite until a few days ago. Except the women who live here.’
Something dark passes over her face. ‘How long has he known them?’
‘A long time.’
‘How long?’
‘Seventy years.’
It takes her a moment to absorb that. ‘I want to talk to him.’
‘No,’ Rafa says, his voice flat.
‘Where is he?’ Mya looks to Ez.
‘Pandanus Beach.’
Rafa shakes his head. ‘You’re not coming with us.’
‘It’s not your call.’
‘Stay out of it, Mya,’ Rafa says.
Mya runs a tongue across her top lip. ‘I can help.’
‘Bullshit. You know Nathaniel sent Taya there.’ He glances at Ez, who nods.
‘So?’ Mya says. ‘It doesn’t have to end in a fight.’
‘Spare me. We know exactly how it will end.’
‘Since when do you have a problem with that?’
‘We don’t need any more heat right now.’
‘We?’ She glances from Rafa to me, back to Rafa. Something flutters under my ribs.
Everyone else is very still, as if a sudden movement might drag them into the firing line. The wind gusts against the house; the fire cracks and pops.
‘Haven’t you got a job you need to get to? Bad things to kill?’ Rafa asks her.
‘We do, as a matter of fact. And now that you’ve re-surfaced, I expect you’ll be joining us.’
‘How about we deal with one pile of shit at a time.’
Mya folds her arms, looks me over again. ‘So why haven’t you run back to Nathaniel?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I say. ‘Maybe because until a few days ago, I didn’t know who the hell Nathaniel was. Or maybe because he kidnapped my best friend. Or possibly because he had me thrown in a cage with a hellion and let it feed on me.’
She doesn’t look at my neck but there’s no way she’s missed the bite there.
‘And before you throw any more accusations around, I don’t know what Jude and I were doing a year ago and I don’t know where the Fallen are. And I swear I am going to take someone’s head if I have to explain that again.’
Jones lets out a low whistle. ‘Aaaand she’s back…’
I stare Mya down. She turns away, flicks her fingers at me as if she’s shaking off water.
‘Someone needs to check the rest of the house.’ She strides back through the room and down the stairs, boots echoing on the timber. ‘I’ll give you all some quality time with Gabe.’ She says my name like an insult.
Rafa is watching me now, a muscle twitching in his jaw. I can’t meet his gaze. I’m not sure what I’ll find there.
Ez sighs. ‘Sorry. We called Jones for back-up and Mya was with him. I had to tell her about Gabe. I couldn’t have kept it from her much longer anyway.’ She points at the journal. ‘Anything we should know about?’
‘We found it in the room.’ I hold it out and she takes it. ‘It’s in German. Rafa said you might be able to read it?’
‘I can take a look.’
‘Can we go now?’ I ask Rafa. We look at each other properly for the first time since we left the iron room. His eyes are clear, steady, green-flecked. Watching me. Seeing me, not Gabe. My shoulders lose some of their tightness.
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Time to chat with Goldilocks. Again.’
‘Okay.’
He pauses and then nods.
Ez helps Zak lift the battering ram, even though he could probably do it with one hand. ‘You know Mya will follow you. She’s not going to let up about questioning Jason over this place.’
Jones stands behind her, still studying me.
‘Talk her out of it,’ Rafa says.
Ez gives a humourless laugh. ‘Sure. Right after I stop the tide.’
SAVE YOUR BREATH
We arrive in what passes as the lounge room in Rafa’s shack in Pan Beach. Warmth envelops me. It makes sense we came here—the esplanade is only a street away—but it’s a little awkward. The last time I was here Rafa was undressing me on his bed.
I shrug my jacket off and toss it on the lumpy couch. Rafa unzips his hoodie and does the same. We stand there, watching each other. Sunlight filters through the filthy window. It’s only early afternoon here. Rafa looks as though he wants to say something, but instead he shoves his hands in his pockets.
‘So, Mya,’ I say.
‘You and Mya.’
He shrugs. ‘She blamed me when Jude disappeared. Said I should have known there’d be trouble when the two of you started talking again. That I should have forced the issue and found out what was going on.’
‘Why didn’t you?’ And why doesn’t he answer the question I’m really asking?
‘I did. That’s when you broke my nose.’
Oh.
He goes to the fridge, looks inside. Closes it.
‘She seemed pretty pissed off that you were with me.’
‘You’ve given her a hard time over the years.’
I carefully word my next question. That look between them. The look she gave him… ‘A year ago, were you two still…together?’
‘Who?’
God, he’s not making this easy.
‘You and Mya.’
Silence.
‘Didn’t you leave the Sanctuary to be with her?’
He stares at me and then shakes his head slowly. ‘More of Daniel’s bullshit, I take it?’
I pick up my jacket, find a smattering of dust to brush off. ‘He said you were in love with her.’
Another expression I don’t understand flickers across his face. ‘Yeah, because that’s who I’d tell.’
‘But—’
‘It’s ancient history.’
He’s in the pantry now, his back to me again. So what is she to him now?
‘Does Mya run the Outcasts?’
‘Jude always called the shots. But she wishes she did. She coordinates our jobs and fires everyone up about our God-given right to slaughter demons.’
‘Can she fight?’
‘She can hold her own. More cunning than skill. You were never a fan.’
‘But you guys all fought together as a team?’
Rafa turns, nudges the pantry door shut with his boot. ‘Yeah. And we were good—really good. And then Jude disappeared and it all went to shit. Mya’s never got over it.’
I toss my jacket on the couch. ‘Should we mention the iron room to someone at the Sanctuary?’