Haze

by Paula Weston

  ‘Daniel,’ I say. ‘Let’s talk about Iowa or this conversation is over.’ I stand up, put my hand on Jason’s arm.

  Taya says to Rafa, ‘Why don’t we start with how you and Gaby got out of this iron trap.’

  ‘Jason went to Zak. Zak brought help.’

  ‘And by help, you mean Mya?’

  ‘We didn’t ask her to come,’ I say. ‘Up to that point, she thought I was dead.’

  Daniel picks a nonexistent piece of fluff from his shirtsleeve. ‘And nobody thought to warn us this room existed?’

  ‘We’re telling you now,’ Jason snaps. ‘I’m so sick of you people thinking you’re the centre of the universe. Two women died at that farmhouse today, doesn’t that matter to anyone?’

  For once, Daniel has no response.

  ‘It matters to me,’ Jason says. ‘I don’t care how twisted their theology was, nobody deserves to die like that. Certainly not a sixteen-year-old who isn’t old enough to know what she believes. I’m going to see Virginia. I’m leaving in thirty seconds and I could use some back-up. I’ve already called Ez, and that will mean Mya. So, do you want to play man-in-charge, or can you get over yourself long enough to do something useful?’

  I’ve never seen—or heard—Jason like this. I glance at Rafa: he’s a little impressed.

  Daniel exhales. ‘I need a moment with Taya.’

  ‘Make it quick.’

  Their discussion on the balcony is intense. And too low for me to hear.

  Jason watches them. He’s rigid, resolved. It burns him to ask for their help, I can see that, but he asked anyway. I can’t help but feel a stab of admiration for him.

  Rafa comes over to me, keeps his back to the others. ‘What did Daniel say to you?’

  ‘Nothing I haven’t heard before.’ Up close, I can see the strain around Rafa’s eyes. ‘Are you okay?’

  He checks on Daniel and Taya, doesn’t answer.

  ‘Where were you this morning?’

  His attention settles back on me. ‘I’ll tell you later.’

  A gust of breeze blows through the open door, stirs Rafa’s hair. His closeness is reassuring; I resist the urge to reach for him.

  Behind him, Daniel and Taya end their conversation and turn back towards us. I breathe in, deeper this time.

  For the first time since Jason’s phone call, I feel close to steady.

  YOUR ENEMY’S ENEMY IS NOT YOUR FRIEND

  The light is dying when we arrive in the cornfield. It’s colder than before, the darkening sky streaked with clouds. Leaves rustle around us; the papery rasp is unsettling now. Taya freezes ahead of me, draws her sword, then realises what the sound is.

  ‘Where’s this other house?’ Taya whispers.

  ‘Next field over,’ Jason says.

  Daniel steps between them. ‘I want to see the main house first. The one with the iron room.’

  Jason hesitates. Then he leads the way down the cornrow, more cautiously than on our last visit. Before we reach the clearing, he crouches and waves Daniel down beside him. They part the corn stalks to see the house. The rest of us hunker down behind them. The dead crop here is mouldy. I peer over Jason’s shoulder and my skin prickles.

  The farmhouse is crawling with Gatekeeper demons. I count a dozen posted around the front entrance and another five on the roof. They’re not hiding. They all have that trademark spindly build and long white hair. From this distance I can’t tell if Bel’s among them.

  Daniel takes in the scene without comment and lets the corn leaves slip from his fingers.

  We’re halfway back to where we arrived when four figures appear in the cornrow ahead of us in a small cloud of dust: Mya, Ez, Zak and Jones, all armed.

  Mya’s face looks drawn, her eyes are bloodshot and she’s still wearing the same clothes as in LA. I don’t know where she was going after the job, but it must have involved a serious bender.

  The four of them block the path.

  Daniel’s face takes on that infuriatingly calm expression. ‘This situation requires a delicate approach, Mya, not a sledgehammer.’ He keeps his voice low.

  I wait for her to tell him about the LA job. But she doesn’t speak at all, just gives him a cold, hard stare.

  Daniel takes in the others. ‘Esther, Zachariah, Jonah.’

  ‘Daniel,’ Ez says.

  Jason pushes between them. ‘Let’s keep moving.’

  I let everyone walk ahead so I can join Rafa at the back of the line. His eyes roam from one side of the cornrow to the other. ‘Stay close. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.’

  ‘No shit.’

  ‘I’m serious. Stay within my reach.’

  My scalp tightens.

  I check the others: they’re all tense. But of course they are—they’re truly vulnerable for the first time.

  Ahead of us, Mya’s steps are heavy, stilted. Is she drunk? Her ponytail falls to one side and I glimpse the back of her neck. There’s a tattoo of an ornate Celtic cross where her Rephaite mark should be, the ink faded with age. It starts under her hair and disappears below her jacket. No wonder she wears her hair down so much. She spent most of her life not knowing what she was, but did she really think a tattoo would draw less attention than a crescent-shaped mark?

  We find the older house, a weatherboard, where Virginia and her surviving daughter Debra are waiting for us, in a shallow gully, hemmed in by dead corn. The roof is pitched low, sagging. Weeds grow up around the front door. A rusty swing set sits off to one side.

  ‘Do they know you’re not coming alone?’ I ask Jason.

  He nods, not taking his eyes from the house. ‘I’ll go in first. Check they’re still here.’

  ‘What if it’s a trap?’

  ‘Then I won’t come out, and you’ll know.’

  ‘Jason, you don’t have to prove anything.’

  He wipes his palms on his pants. ‘Just watch my back, okay?’

  Keeping to the shadows, he runs to the front door. The flyscreen screeches when he opens it. He knocks lightly, once, twice. I hold my breath. The door opens almost immediately and Jason steps inside. A few seconds later he materialises back on the porch. No iron trap at least. He waves us over. Ez and Zak take point at one end of the house, Jones the other.

  The smell hits me as soon as we’re inside: wet feathers and chicken shit. The house is now a makeshift chook-shed. The wallpaper is flaked, the carpet stained and torn. The women waiting for us in the shadowy room look completely out of place: Virginia has a short grey bob, pale blue eyes and is dressed in a tailored suit as though she’s off to a board meeting. She’s sitting in an armchair covered in stiff plastic, next to a blackened fireplace. Her daughter is beside her, a hand on the chair, barely keeping her feet. Debra is blonde, thirty or so. I feel like I’ve seen her before but I can’t place her. Both stare at us, blank-eyed, torn between fear and grief.

  ‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’ Jason speaks quietly, doesn’t move any closer.

  But they’re looking past him still, at us. We must be familiar to them from their photo collection but Jason introduces us. They’re silent at our names.

  ‘What happened, Virginia?’ Jason asks.

  She doesn’t reply.

  ‘How are you two alive?’

  Her eyes slowly move to him. ‘The silent alarm went off.’ Her hand twitches. ‘We have a panic button. If it’s hit, we all receive a message.’

  ‘Has that happened before?’

  The plastic on the chair crackles as she shifts, takes hold of her bracelet. ‘Only once: when you brought the unholy offspring here yesterday. When it went off again today we assumed you and your new friends had come back, so we parked at this house and walked over…’ She can’t keep the pain from her eyes now. ‘The devils were everywhere, all over the roof like lice. And what they left in the field…’ She turns her face away.

  Debra’s grip tightens on the back of the chair. I feel ill. Where did the demons leave the bodies? Did we pass them? I have a quick, si
ckening flashback of the nightclub in my dream, of torn bodies soaked in blood.

  ‘You’re the architect,’ I say to Debra, pushing the feeling away. ‘You designed that place on the hill. And that room.’

  Her black patent leather shoes are covered in dust. Her shoulders shudder, either from the cold or shock. Or both.

  Virginia repositions herself in her chair, straightens her clothes. She looks at each of us again. ‘You brought weapons?’ Her fingers stray to her necklace: pearls. No pendant.

  ‘You’ve got a demon infestation,’ Rafa says. ‘We weren’t coming unarmed.’

  ‘I cannot believe the day has come that I must breathe the same air as filth such as you.’

  ‘Careful,’ Rafa says.

  ‘Rafa.’ Jason turns quickly. ‘Show some respect. These women lost family today.’

  Virginia’s hand is still on her chest. I scan the charms on the bracelet she’s wearing. One isn’t as shiny as the others: it’s round and flat.

  ‘That doesn’t change the fact they built a room to trap us,’ Rafa says. ‘Or explain how the pit scum found out about it.’

  Virginia glares at him. ‘You tell me. You and that one’—she points a long finger at me—‘were here yesterday, and today we are attacked. You led them here to slaughter our family.’ The finger moves to Jason. ‘You did this.’

  ‘We didn’t lead anyone here,’ Rafa says. ‘So think harder about how it could have happened.’

  He’s so cold. That room really shook him up.

  Daniel clears his throat. ‘Please forgive Rafael,’ he says to Virginia and then holds out his hands to show he’s unarmed. ‘On behalf of Nathaniel and the Rephaim of the Sanctuary, I offer you and your family our deepest condolences for your losses today.’

  ‘I don’t want sympathy from your kind,’ Virginia says. ‘You’re an abomination, every last one of you.’

  ‘We are not all alike, madam, I assure you. And you have seen the real enemy today: it is not the Rephaim.’ He approaches her slowly, respectfully. He brushes off a dusty kitchen chair, pulls it closer to her and sits down. She moves back in her seat to widen the distance between them. The stiff plastic on her chair crackles again.

  ‘The Fallen and their bastards are no better than the devils who have violated our home this day,’ she says. ‘Between all of you, you will end the world.’

  Daniel folds his hands, a study in self-control. Beside me, Rafa is looking at the walls and the near-dark window. The cold pushes through my jacket. I take a deep breath. God, this place stinks. Ask her about the room so we can leave and Jason can take them somewhere safe.

  ‘That sounds like fear talking,’ Daniel says.

  ‘It is a revelation from God.’

  Daniel dips his head. ‘Please, then, share your revelation so we can understand.’

  Virginia’s pale eyes flare as something stronger than grief takes hold. ‘You seek the Fallen. If you find them, you will release the Two Hundred and they will make war on heaven.’

  ‘No, Virginia, we’ll hand them over to the Angelic Garrison. The archangels will decide their fate.’

  ‘You will fail.’

  ‘Why did you allow Jason to bring us here? Why agree to meet with us?’

  ‘You are the only creatures strong enough to drive the spawn of hell from here.’

  ‘You’re asking for our help?’

  ‘No…’

  ‘Come now, Virginia. Now’s not the time for lies.’

  Her eyes roam his face and the hard lines around her mouth soften. It’s as if she’s only just noticed how beautiful he is. Her hand drops to the armrest and Daniel gently places his over it. Virginia flinches, but doesn’t pull away.

  ‘I swear to you, our purposes are the same.’ His voice is gentle.

  Mya makes a noise that’s somewhere between scoffing and clearing her throat. I’m surprised she hasn’t had something to say by now.

  Virginia breaks eye contact with Daniel to look over at the rest of us. ‘Not all of you have the same purpose, though, do you?’

  Daniel sighs and slides his hand from hers. ‘That is true and a shame. But we can talk about that more later.’

  Virginia glances down at her wrist and gasps. In the space of that sound, Taya is moving across the room. She grabs Virginia’s slender arm—Mya shouts—and then Taya and Virginia disappear.

  ‘You bastard!’ Mya yells at Daniel.

  He holds up the bracelet he slipped from Virginia’s wrist. That’s why he didn’t ask about the room: he never intended to interrogate her here.

  ‘You think Taya didn’t notice your girlfriend showing off that necklace?’ he says to Jason.

  Mya lunges at him but Daniel’s already gone.

  ‘Fuck!’ Rafa lashes out at a cracked vase on a weather-beaten stand. It hits the fireplace and shatters. I blink at the empty chair. How could I think Taya would miss something as important as that pendant on Maggie? Of course she saw it. It’s why she was in Pan Beach in the first place—to watch us. But how did she know what to look for? How did Daniel?

  Mya strides towards Debra, who has sunk back against the wall.

  ‘No way.’ Jason blocks her but she steps around him. Debra’s pale lips are moving in what could be a silent prayer.

  Jason grabs Mya’s wrist. ‘I can take her somewhere safe—’

  ‘There isn’t anywhere safe.’ She wrenches free, shoves him back. She takes Debra’s arm—

  They’re gone.

  ‘What the…?’ The flywire door creaks as Ez comes in. ‘Debra must have been wearing one of their trinkets, right?’ I say. ‘How did Mya do that?’

  Jason doesn’t look at me. He goes to Virginia’s chair and sits down, puts his head in his hands.

  ‘Either she wasn’t wearing one or she didn’t leave against her will,’ Ez says, and flicks feathers off a chair with the tip of her sword.

  Rafa shrugs. ‘Maybe after Pretty Boy snatched up the old girl, she figured she’d be safer with us than trying to get past Zarael on her own.’

  ‘But Jason was still here…’ I frown. ‘Maybe she didn’t have hers on. Maybe it was in the other house.’ I look to Ez. ‘Did Mya come here planning to do that?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘I can’t believe I was naive enough to think you lot came here to help,’ Jason says.

  ‘Be fair,’ Ez says. ‘Daniel made the first move, not us.’ She looks to Rafa. ‘Mya might have gone to Jess. I’ll take Zak and Jones and call when we find her.’

  Rafa nods and she goes back outside.

  ‘Come on, let’s go,’ Rafa says.

  Jason doesn’t move.

  ‘Goldilocks, are you coming with us or staying in this shit-hole?’

  ‘You don’t get it, do you?’ Jason doesn’t look up. ‘Virginia’s right: it’s my fault. Sophie and her mother are dead; Virginia is a prisoner at the Sanctuary; Debra is at the mercy of the woman who tore the Rephaim apart. That’s all on me.’

  ‘We couldn’t have led the demons here. They can’t feel us or track us.’ I look to Rafa.

  He goes to the window, checks outside. Shrivelled corn leaves are swirling between the rows, caught on the breeze. ‘They have to see us. Unless a hell-turd’s had a taste of one of us.’

  ‘See?’ I say to Jason.

  He stares at the shit-encrusted carpet. ‘Do you know how many humans I’ve watched die?’ he asks, as if Rafa and I haven’t spoken. ‘How many men and women in my mother’s family? One after another. Generation after generation. Some of old age, some not. Old men. Young mothers. Babies. Think of a way to die, and I’ve watched it happen to someone I care about. I’ve stood beside more graves than I can bear to remember.’ He takes a deep, ragged breath. ‘Even if I stay away, they die. We’re cursed, you know, to live forever. And now this…Look at the horror I’ve brought here.’

  My longing for the family Jude and I might have had with Jason evaporates in the room, in the stench of it. One hundred and thirty
-nine years of death and loss. I can’t imagine the weight of that, or how he’s carried it all these decades.

  I wish Maggie was here. She’d know how to comfort him. ‘I don’t know how the demons found out about the iron room, but it’s not your fault.’

  He looks up at me, his blue eyes almost grey. ‘It’s my fault you and Jude went missing last year. I brought you back together, took you to Dani after she had the vision. I should have known it would lead to something bad.’ His hands ball into fists on his knees. ‘I froze when I should have helped Maggie, I let her see demons—’

  ‘She’s fine, Jason, she—’

  ‘She’s not fine. She has nightmares.’

  I pause. I didn’t know that.

  ‘Beating yourself up doesn’t change that.’

  His shoulders fold. ‘I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Gaby. I don’t know who to believe. What are we, really? Why are we here? Does anything we do even matter?’

  ‘If we knew that, Goldilocks, we’d all be less prone to binge drinking,’ Rafa says.

  I glance out the dirt-covered windows. The sun is almost gone now, straining through the dead corn.

  ‘Get up and stop feeling sorry for yourself.’ Rafa nudges shards of the broken vase with his boot. ‘We’ve all fucked up at one point or another. You can’t live as long as we have and not make mistakes.’ He glances at me and then away again.

  Jason wipes his face. ‘So what do I do?’

  ‘Nothing, here,’ Rafa says. ‘But if you can get your shit together, we could use some help to look for Jude.’

  I blink. Did Rafa just throw Jason a lifeline?

  ‘Unless you’d rather stay here and mope,’ he says.

  I’m still studying Rafa when something flashes behind him outside. Something with flaming eyes.

  CATCH YOUR BREATH

  Rafa shifts across the room to me. And then we’re in the freezing void, stretching and compressing. By the time we find solid ground again, his arms are tight around me. We’re back at his shack. It’s clean, the bench still bare. But now there’s a rucksack on the table.