by Paula Weston
‘Foolish to come alone,’ I say between breaths.
‘Yes, it would have been. So I did not.’
My chest tightens. That’s why Rafa and the others are still in the club. Fighting Gatekeepers. I’m really on my own out here.
Sirens—so close they must be out front now. But they’re not coming for me. At best they’re coming for the kids. I move my foot. I can feel the edge of the sword, but I can’t move. Bel smiles, then kicks it away. What sort of fighter am I? I lose my only wea—
The knife.
It’s still there, digging into my hip.
‘Who did you bring?’ I hold his gaze, keep my movements as small as possible. Knowing I can’t shift has made him complacent. I reach under my shirt.
‘Some old friends, who will be very happy to—’
I jam the knife between his ribs. There’s bile in my throat as I push through muscle and sinew. He stumbles back. ‘Pestilence!’ He sprays spittle and blood on my face and the fence.
I dive for my katana. I take it cleanly and spring back to my feet, just as he jerks the knife out and throws it, straight and true.
It lands cleanly in the top of my thigh. My bad leg.
The force of it drives me backwards. I stagger, hit the bitumen hard. The blade’s gone into my leg up to the hilt which is still quivering. But it’s not hurting. Oh, wait… shards of white pain radiate down my leg.
‘Ah shit.’
Rafa.
He’s kneeling next to me, still out of breath from fighting inside. ‘Don’t pull it out yet.’
Pull it out? Is he insane?
Rafa looks up at Bel, who has moved back into the middle of the road. ‘You’re not looking so hot yourself.’ He stands up and spins his katana. It’s dripping with dark blood.
Bel pokes at the wound in his chest as if it’s a science experiment. Rafa moves so fast he must have shifted, but even with that speed, Bel’s gone by the time he reaches him.
‘Chicken shit.’ Rafa comes back to where I’m leaning against the fence. He slides an arm around me.
‘I stabbed him first.’ I don’t want Rafa thinking I just let Bel take my knife and stick it in me.
‘I told you it would come in handy. Good job dealing with him on your own.’
He helps me to my feet. I grit my teeth and take my weight on the other leg. ‘Mya put four bullets in him first.’
‘Also handy.’
Jones comes out of the club. ‘The police are inside—’ He does a double-take at the knife. ‘Everyone else has gone.’
Ez and Zak shut the door behind them. Ez takes one look at me and winces. ‘Let’s go.’
‘We need to make sure Jess got the kids out,’ I say.
‘I’ll go,’ Ez says.
‘I’m coming too.’
Rafa’s fingers dig into my side. ‘You’ve got a knife in your leg.’
I face him. His arm around me is hot, overly hot. I’m on fire. The noise that was all around us moves overhead as well. A chopper. ‘Then get it out and—’
Mya sprints around the corner before I finish. Her sword’s gone, but she’s still carrying the handgun. She pulls up when she reaches us, sees the knife.
‘Nice catch.’
‘The kids?’ I ask.
‘On their way to a safe house.’
Thank god. ‘Is Jess okay?’
‘She twisted her ankle in those stupid heels, but otherwise she’s fine.’
A burning tyre rolls through the intersection at the end of the street. Two guys are running behind it, tyre irons in their hands, hoods up.
‘The rest are coming.’ Mya steps through the gate, out of sight from the street. She taps a message into her phone, glances at me. ‘You should get her out of here,’ she says to Ez. And then she’s gone.
Rafa takes my weight and Ez ducks under my other arm to help half-carry me into the portico. They exchange a look. Ez nods.
‘Ready?’ Rafa says, but he’s not asking me.
Ez leans down, yanks the knife from my leg and clamps her hand over the wound. I scream. Loud enough that the cops inside probably heard it.
They take me into welcome blackness.
LINES BLUR
When I come to, I’m back on the bunk in Dubai. I can’t have been out long because the rattling air conditioner hasn’t had time to take the warmth from the room. My leg throbs.
‘You scream like a girl.’ Rafa sits on the bed next to me.
‘I am a girl.’
He glances down at my bare legs. ‘I’ve noticed.’
I struggle to sit up. All I’m wearing is a t-shirt, my underwear and a bandage around my thigh. My legs are still scarred from the accident—or whatever happened last year. White, ugly marks across my thighs and knees. I’d cover myself up, but with what? My jeans are on the floor, torn up.
Rafa gestures to my leg. ‘Better?’
I tentatively probe the bandage, nod. I still ache all over from the aftermath of adrenaline. ‘How come Ez pulled out the knife before we shifted?’
‘You can’t heal with a blade in the wound.’
Oh. Yeah.
‘Where is she now?’
‘Mya’s doing a post-mortem.’
I look around for water, find a bottle by the bed. It’s warm, but I don’t care. ‘We need to make sure Mya gives us that laptop before she disappears from here,’ I say.
‘And then we’re going to Melbourne?’
I look Rafa in the eye. ‘Pan Beach first.’ I check my watch. ‘We’ve been gone less than twelve hours. It’ll show Taya I kept my word, maybe buy us a bit more time. Maybe even some trust. And then Melbourne.’ My pulse still skips at the thought.
Rafa rubs his jaw, sighs. He needs a shave and he’s got dark circles under his eyes from the shift.
‘What happened in the club?’
Rafa loosens the laces on his boots, slides them off.
‘We nearly had those monkey pricks,’ he says. ‘But then, big surprise, Leon and his buddies turned up. Ez came in around the same time, so we held our own, and then the Immundi worked out the kids were gone and took off.’
That must have been what made Bel so happy when he had me pinned to the fence: the thought the Immundi would run down the kids and drag them back.
‘They ran straight into the riot,’ Rafa says.
‘Can Immundi shift?’
He smiles without humour. ‘No.’
‘So, Leon and Bel turning up, it was a trap?’
‘Yeah. But at least Bel didn’t bring hell-turds this time. Or Zarael. I’m surprised he hasn’t shown up after all the crap that’s gone down this week.’
I pick at the bandage on my leg. ‘Is this what Jude used to do—rescue people from demons?’
The question surprises him. ‘Yeah. He was always out to save the world.’
‘All the time?’
He sighs. ‘All the time.’
‘Do you guys succeed very often?’
A tired, crooked smile. ‘Most of the time, actually—despite what you’ll hear from the Sanctuary.’
There’s movement by the door. Ez and Zak are back. Mya is with them.
‘Are you still talking to me?’ Ez asks. She glances at my leg.
‘Yeah, just.’ I smile. ‘Thanks.’
‘My pleasure. But maybe dodge next time.’
Mya steps out from behind Zak. Her eyes are still bright.
‘So let’s hear it, Gabe.’
‘What?’
‘Tell me the problem with what we just did.’
I use the top bunk to pull myself to my feet, try not to put too much weight on my injured leg. I should thank her for saving my life, but I need to know she’s not backing out of our deal.
‘I’ve got a problem with how you got me here, but not with getting those kids out.’ I straighten. She’s shorter than me, so it forces her to look up. ‘And I did what I said I would, so now it’s your turn.’
Her lips twist. ‘Can’t get away from us quic
k enough?’
‘I said one job. I’ve done it.’
‘What’s the big rush?’
I point to the tattered denim on the floor. ‘I need another pair of jeans for a start.’
She shakes her head. ‘If you really had changed, you’d stay with us.’
My fingers dig into the metal on the bunk. ‘Why would I stay? I’m not a professional fighter, Mya, I’m a librarian.’
‘Oh, come on, you’re still good enough to stick a knife into a Gatekeeper.’
‘What makes you think I want to fight demons?’
Her vivid eyes bore into me. ‘What else are you going to do?’
‘Not fight demons. Have a life.’
She scowls. We watch each other for a moment. My leg throbs but I’m not sitting down again while she’s here.
‘I’ll have Jude’s laptop now, thanks.’
The room is utterly silent. Mya’s nostrils flare, and then she’s gone.
I ease myself back onto the bed. ‘She’s gone to get it, right?’
Ez nods. ‘If Mya says she’ll do something, she’ll do it.’
I can’t allow myself to think about what might be on that computer. Not yet. Not until it’s in my hands, far away from here.
Ez sits on the bunk opposite mine. ‘Did you mean what you said before—about being okay with that job?’
‘Of course—how could I not be?’
‘Well…the Sanctuary calls us money-grubbing mercenaries. You came up with the term.’
I press my toes into the rough concrete floor, watch them turn white. No wonder Daniel misses that other version of me: I sounded exactly like him. I lift my head. ‘I don’t know about past jobs, but that one needed to happen.’
Ez nods. ‘Thank you,’ she says simply.
Zak sits on the other end of the bunk from Ez and wipes down his sword. Rafa grabs a cloth and goes to work on mine.
‘What was going on in that basement, was it—’ I stop, think about what I’m trying to ask. ‘All the bad shit that happens in the world—are demons behind it?’
‘That would be handy for humanity, wouldn’t it?’ Ez crosses her legs on the frayed mattress. ‘Humans have been living with evil for so long they don’t need much encouragement to do unspeakable things to each other. Humans always have a choice. Always. Filth like the Immundi tap into appetites that already exist and then feed off the misery those appetites create.’
‘Do the Immundi work for the Gatekeepers?’
‘It’s looking that way. Zarael must be summoning them from the pit and letting them loose, either to distract us or lure us into a fight. But Bel kept a low profile on this one. Jess had no idea there were other demons involved.’
I take a hairbrush from my duffel bag. I don’t have to touch my hair to know it’s a mess. ‘Jess is human, right? How does she know about demons?’
‘She was undercover at the Rhythm Palace the first time around, working on a drug bust. Her team had no idea there were girls downstairs, taken from Eastern Europe. When Bel and Leon set the hellions on the crowd, she hid under a table and saw the whole thing go down. We found her and got her out. She was terrified, but she kept it together, even tried to question Mya. Mya told her if she stayed quiet about what had really happened, we’d come back and give her answers. She kept quiet. We went back.’
‘And what did you tell her?’
‘Enough about demons to keep her safe. We’ve done a few jobs with her since—you’d be surprised how much filth from the pit ends up in LA.’
Something doesn’t fit.
‘Who foots the bill when you work for a cop?’
‘Don’t worry, you’ll get paid. We always do.’
‘But…does Jess know what you all are?’
‘Of course not.’
I don’t understand how Jess could accept that demons exist and not question how the Outcasts know so much about them. She’s a detective; she’s meant to be suspicious—or at least curious.
‘But—’
Mya reappears with a computer bag, and Jess and all my questions vanish. I’m fixated on the worn black leather and Mya’s possessive grip on it. My fingers are trembling.
Rafa stands up. ‘Let’s see it.’
She hesitates and then hands it to him. He unzips it, checks inside.
‘What’s the catch?’
‘No catch.’
He gives her a level look.
Mya’s eyes are still on the bag. ‘It’s password protected.’
‘Yours or his?’
Her eyes flare. ‘His. And I can’t crack it.’
PILLOW TALK
I wake in my own bed, Rafa’s arm draped over me. I’m still only half-dressed. The sheet is scrunched up at the end of the bed; I must have kicked it off in my sleep.
My room was dark when we arrived, the house in the empty silence that exists only in the small hours of the morning. The last thing I remember is falling into bed, dead tired, and Rafa sitting on the edge to take his boots off. We agreed to wait until the morning to try the laptop. I reach for it on my bedside table. Still there.
Dawn light filters through the window, casting everything in a warm glow. There’s bird noise in the jacaranda outside. My pillow smells like vanilla shampoo with a whisper of sandalwood. For a fleeting moment I feel safe.
I should let Maggie know we’re back.
Rafa stirs. His arm shifts to rest along my hip and thigh, his fingers spread out on my bare skin. He mumbles something in my hair.
Another minute won’t hurt.
Maggie’s alarm goes off. A thump silences it about two seconds later.
‘Doesn’t anybody sleep-in in this house?’ Rafa’s voice is husky from sleep.
‘Only if we’re hung-over.’
He plays with the edge of the bandage on my thigh. ‘I haven’t had a hangover in months.’
‘You sound disappointed,’ I say over my shoulder.
‘I miss the oblivion that comes with getting one.’ He yawns, taps his finger on my bare leg. ‘So, this morning…?’
I roll over, expecting him to make room. He doesn’t. We lie facing each other, centimetres apart. His fingertips find my leg again. He’s still in his jeans, but he’s naked from the waist up. The button on his jeans is undone. And he hasn’t shifted…
I swallow, focus on the question. ‘Jude’s laptop. Catch up with Maggie and Jason, find Taya, go to Melbourne.’
Rafa is watching my lips while I talk. When I finish, he lifts his eyes. ‘How’s the leg now?’
‘It still throbs a little.’
He gives my uninjured thigh a squeeze.
‘Let me see.’ He takes his weight on one elbow, rolls me onto my back. He carefully peels back the bandage. The adhesive tears at my skin enough to make me wince.
‘Oh, man up.’ Rafa smiles. ‘You took a knife a few hours ago.’
I make a face at him, and then see the angry scar on my leg for the first time.
‘It would have been tidier with stitches,’ he says. ‘But it’s still better than a gaping wound.’ He runs the tip of his finger over it, bringing goosebumps across my skin. And then he leans down and brushes his lips over the scar. My fingers slide into his hair.
Footsteps thump down the hall and my door flies open. I sit up so abruptly I almost knee Rafa in the head. It’s Maggie, wearing silk pyjama shorts and an oversized t-shirt tied in a knot at her side.
‘You’re back—’ She takes in the scene on my bed. ‘Oh… is this a good time?’
‘Rafa’s checking my leg.’
She gives me a knowing smile and crosses the room. Jason follows her in, pulling on a t-shirt. He’s got a shocking case of bed-hair.
‘Glad to see you finally made it to the bedroom, Goldilocks,’ Rafa says.
Jason ignores him, but Maggie glares at him. ‘What happened?’ she asks.
Rafa makes no effort to create space on the bed, but she climbs on anyway. Jason shifts books and clothes on my desk and props on th
e edge. When they’re settled, I give them a run-down on what happened in LA.
‘So…Mya helped you?’ Maggie asks.
‘It’s not like she took a bullet for me but, yeah, she did.’ And I still didn’t thank her.
‘Well.’
‘I know.’
She checks out the scar on my thigh. ‘I wish you’d stop getting hurt.’
Rafa sticks the dressing back down. He runs his thumb and forefinger around the edges.
‘How were things here?’ I ask, trying not to think about his fingertips.
Maggie and Jason glance at each other. Her eyes are shining. ‘We found your nurse.’
My heart thumps, hard. Rafa stops stroking my leg.
‘Her name’s Hannah McKenzie. She still works in intensive care.’ Maggie reaches for my hand. ‘The guy we spoke to on the phone remembers you—he’d never seen anyone survive a neck wound like yours.’
Rafa’s hand strays to my thigh again. Almost protectively. ‘But was this Hannah the one who told Gaby about the funeral?’
Maggie nods. ‘We think so, and we—’
‘Didn’t you talk to her?’
‘She wasn’t working. She’s been on holiday. But,’ she says, before he can interrupt again, ‘she’s on again tomorrow.’
‘Nice work, Margaret.’ Rafa gives her an appreciative nod.
‘Thank you, Rafael.’ She gives a meaningful look in Jason’s direction.
Rafa sighs, nods. ‘Goldilocks.’
Hope flutters in my ribcage like a startled bird. I can’t get ahead of myself. Even if this nurse remembers me, it doesn’t mean she can point us to Jude. But it’s a start.
‘So, you can hang around one more day,’ Maggie says to me. ‘And Jason will be here when you go, so there’s nothing more to worry about.’
That’s not quite true, but I nod anyway. I reach for my old jeans on the floor. ‘You working today?’
‘Yeah, are you?’
‘What’s today?’ I’ve seriously lost track: too many time zones in too few hours.
‘Saturday,’ Maggie says.
‘I suppose I could do a few hours at the library after I check in with Taya.’ I ease the jeans over my bandaged thigh.
‘I thought the goth was covering for you,’ Rafa says.
‘Gaz? He is.’