by Paula Weston
Jason appears. ‘I tried the bungalow first. Is it safe here?’
‘Safer than up the hill,’ Rafa says and lets go of me.
I look from one to the other. ‘You think the demons will come to Pan Beach—into town?’
‘They might risk it if they’ve fixed the door to that room,’ Rafa says. ‘They only need one of us as leverage.’
‘Leverage for what?’
‘For you.’ He looks at me, serious. ‘We can’t wait any longer to go to Melbourne. We need to get out of here right now, and that’s as good a place as any.’
‘What about the rest of the town?’
‘They’ll be fine. Zarael’s not after them.’
‘And what about the Butlers and their militia?’
Rafa shakes his head. ‘Not my problem.’
‘Let me get Maggie,’ Jason says. ‘She can’t go back to the bungalow, not now. And Daniel knows about the iron amulet, so the necklace isn’t going to help if the Rephaim want her again.’
‘He’s right,’ I say. It doesn’t matter what Daniel said to me—all assurances will go out the window as soon as Rafa and I disappear from Pan Beach.
‘Fine. Get her here in ten minutes or we’re going without—’ Jason’s gone before Rafa finishes.
I turn my phone back on. ‘Will Taya come back here?’
Rafa shrugs.
She cared enough about Simon to get involved in the bar fight last night, so maybe she cares enough to keep an eye on him—or at the very least make sure he doesn’t join the Butlers up the mountain.
‘Why didn’t Taya tell Daniel about us going with Mya last night?’
Rafa sits at the table. ‘She didn’t want to wear the blame if you didn’t come back. And then the shit hit the fan over the farm and she lost her chance.’
At the sink, daylight is forcing its way through the grime on the shack windows. It’s barely midday here. I stare at the grey wall of the shopping centre.
‘Virginia must have thought the Rephaim would charge in and purge the place.’
‘Then she doesn’t know as much about the Sanctuary as she thinks she does.’ Rafa stretches his legs out to one side of the table. ‘The Five will take at least a day to debate the merits of an attack.’
I sit opposite him. ‘But first they’ll interrogate Virginia.’
‘Yep, and I guarantee they’ll find out more about her family in twenty-four hours than Jason’s managed to in seventy years.’
I don’t want to think about what that might involve.
‘But Nathaniel will attack the farm at some point, won’t he? He’ll destroy that room?’
‘Maybe not. Too many Gatekeepers; Rephaim would die. No, he’ll find out how to make his own iron prison.’
‘For Rephaim or demons?’
‘Both, if it works that way.’
‘Could it hold the Fallen too?’
‘Maybe.’
We sit with that thought.
‘But if Nathaniel didn’t know about the iron room, how did Taya and Daniel know about the amulet and what it does?’
‘No idea.’
‘I think there’s something else going on at the Sanctuary. With Malachi.’
Rafa moves his legs again to rest against mine.
‘Like what?’
‘He was supposed to come with Taya, remember, to keep an eye on me—a direct order from Nathaniel. But he hasn’t shown and she was cagey about it, which makes me wonder—’
‘If they’ve got a lead on the Fallen. That’s the only thing that would take priority over shadowing you.’
I look up at the water-stained ceiling. ‘Maybe Daniel will be so preoccupied with Virginia and the farmhouse and whatever Malachi’s up to that he’ll forget about us for a few hours.’
Rafa laughs. ‘Yeah, right. He’s not losing his hard-on for you any time soon.’
I knock my knee against his. ‘That’s revolting.’
‘Speaking of which,’ he says, and I really hope he’s not still talking about Daniel, ‘I grabbed a few things this morning.’
He drags the rucksack closer, pulls out two books and lays them face-up. They’re from Jude’s collection on angels and demons. I see Jude’s laptop wedged in the bag.
‘You went to Patmos this morning?’
He nods, glances away.
Rafa was safe in Greece. He was never in danger. That lingering fear finally slides away.
‘I thought the books might be useful. You know if…’ He flips the pages of the book closest to him. ‘They worked for you.’
‘No, the photo worked for me.’
He pushes the second book towards me, and when I open it, I see the thirty-year-old shot of Jude and me tucked in the dust jacket, both of us looking no older than eighteen. It still makes me ache.
‘Any reason you turned your phone off while you were in Greece?’
Rafa doesn’t answer right away; he’s prying a splinter from the edge of the table. When he finally speaks he doesn’t meet my eyes. ‘You think you’re the only one who has a hard time seeing Jude’s things?’
His voice is quiet and raw.
‘Hey.’ I lay the photo on the table and tap it. ‘That was in my room, not on Patmos. How many drawers did you go through before you found it?’
‘A few.’ He looks at me, catches the mood shift and goes with it. ‘While I was at it, I packed some clothes for you too. You really need to go shopping.’
‘You packed—we only just decided to go to Melbourne.’
‘I was planning on an early departure.’
There’s movement near the front door. Maggie and Jason. Maggie is toting an overnight bag, which she drops on its wheels, and bolts for the sink. She breathes in and out, slowly. Then she stands up, pours a glass of water and drinks it.
‘Oh my god, I hate that.’ She’s changed out of her work clothes and into jeans and a light-knit jumper. Handmade.
I give her a sympathetic smile. ‘Brace yourself. We’re going again in a minute.’
She sits at the table, her cheeks still pale.
‘What did you tell your mum?’
She gestures to Jason, who gives a tired smile. Being near Maggie has taken some of the tension from his face.
‘I said I scored tickets to the ballet in the city,’ he says, ‘and we had to leave right now so we could check in to the hotel before the show.’
‘Nice.’ Nothing short of the ballet would get Maggie a free pass from the cafe on a Saturday.
I put the books back in the rucksack and recognise the clothes Rafa has jammed in there, including the only lacy underwear I own. I don’t know whether to be annoyed or flattered.
‘How come you didn’t ask Ez or Zak to come to Melbourne with us?’ I ask.
‘I didn’t want to get their hopes up.’
I study him, wonder if it’s more than that.
‘Would it have crossed Mya’s mind that Jude might be alive?’ I ask.
‘I doubt it. She’s spent the last year blaming you—and me—for the fact he’s not here any more. She’s not letting go of that too easily.’
Jason pops the handle on Maggie’s suitcase. ‘Any theories on how Zarael found out about the farmhouse?’
‘The only way he could have is if they followed someone who drove there,’ Rafa says.
‘But that means they’d have to know about the family.’
‘Correct.’
‘We’ll be okay in Melbourne—they can’t track us, can they?’ Maggie asks.
‘No, Margaret.’ Rafa smiles at her. ‘But we can’t do anything stupid to flag where we are. I have no intention of ever seeing the inside of that room again.’ He stands up. ‘Right then. We’re going to need a base in Melbourne. Somewhere we can shift to and from easily without worrying about being seen. Not to mention somewhere to sleep.’
‘A hotel?’ Jason is sharper now, focused.
‘Excellent idea,’ Rafa says. ‘You paying?’
LAST SEASON’S SCARS
We
arrive in a park behind a maintenance shed. The glass and concrete skyline dwarfs the trees around us. It’s early afternoon; Hannah McKenzie’s next shift at the hospital is tomorrow morning.
The hotel is on Collins Street. We stop for bagels on the way in a cafe so tiny the kitchen is under a flight of stairs. Our room has two double beds, a huge bathroom and dizzying views of the city. I don’t ask how much it costs, but I suspect I’d have to shelve books for a month to afford a night here. And Jason’s booked for two. Maggie unpacks like we’re settling in for the weekend.
Rafa’s phone rings. The conversation is short, clipped.
‘That was Ez,’ he says when he hangs up. ‘Mya took the architect to LA.’
Jason looks up from his phone. He’s been tapping and studying it for the past five minutes. ‘Is Debra all right?’
‘She should be happy she’s not at the Sanctuary with her mother.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Goldilocks, she’s fine. She’s with a cop. Nothing bad is going to happen to her.’
Jason doesn’t seem convinced. ‘How long will she have to stay there?’
‘Depends how quickly she gives up information.’
‘I’ve met Jess,’ I say. ‘I can’t see her letting Mya hurt Debra.’
He considers this, nods, and goes back to his screen. ‘Maggie, I can get tickets to the ballet if you want to go.’
She comes back in from the bathroom, where she’s been putting her make-up away. ‘Are you sure you’re up for it?’
‘I am. Really.’ He checks Rafa and me. ‘I can book for four…?’
Rafa looks like Jason’s just offered to slip bamboo under his fingernails.
‘Thanks,’ I say before he can insult Jason. ‘But I don’t think I could sit still for that long.’
Maggie catches my eye. ‘What will you two do while we’re out?’
Rafa gives me a lazy smile. ‘I’ll come up with something.’
‘Let’s at least have dinner together first,’ Maggie says. ‘Gaby, did you pack a dress?’
I give her a flat look.
‘Of course not,’ she says. ‘Then that settles it: I’m taking you shopping.’
The afternoon sky is patchy with thin clouds, the breeze like tepid water. Maggie knows every boutique in the city. Our first stop is a tiny store in a laneway packed with cafes and outdoor tables. I know from the limited hanging space that I can’t afford anything in here, but Maggie goes in anyway. She chats with the sales assistant about new season lines and colours and then joins me at the back of the store.
‘Mags.’ I wait until she looks up. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were having nightmares?’
‘How…?’ She closes her eyes for a second. ‘Jason.’ A sigh. ‘I had them after Dad died too. It’s how I cope.’
‘You should have told me.’
‘You’ve got enough going on.’
I flick through a couple of dresses, not really seeing them. ‘What are they about?’
‘Mostly Mick getting attacked.’ She pauses, blinks rapidly a few times. ‘But last night I dreamed one of those long-haired demons was in my room. It scared the hell out of me.’
‘Oh, Mags.’ I reach for her without thinking and hug her tightly. At least in my nightmares, I always got to kill the monster.
We stay that way for a while and when I let go she wipes her eyes, laughs. ‘If I’d known all it took to get a hug was a few nightmares, I would have told you days ago.’
I smile. ‘I’m glad you’re not sleeping alone.’
She gives me a half-smile. ‘Me too.’ She pulls out a few dresses, studies them, puts them back. ‘And sorry about the interruption this morning.’
I’m about to ask what she means and then I remember she walked in on Rafa kissing my bare leg. Thinking about his lips on my skin brings a rush of heat to my face. ‘Oh, that was…’ I sigh. ‘I don’t know what that was.’
‘What’s going on with you two?’
‘Who knows? When we’re alone he can be so tender, and when he kisses me, god…’ I laugh, embarrassed. ‘But then he turns into a smartarse around other people, especially Rephaim. And any time I make a decision he doesn’t like he takes it as a personal insult.’
‘Gaby,’ she says carefully. ‘You give him just as much of a hard time, you know.’ She touches my elbow. ‘I don’t think there’s any doubt about how he feels—and that’s what’s messing with his head. He fought with the old Gabe; he’s attracted to you. Here’s a thought: maybe you two could, you know, talk about it.’
‘I’ve asked him repeatedly about what happened at the Sanctuary—’
‘I mean talk about how you feel about each other now.’
I choke on a laugh. ‘I’m pretty confident he feels the same way I do about deep and meaningful conversations.’
Maggie shakes her head, and then: ‘Oh my.’ She takes a hanger from the rack, shows me a silk, strapless champagne-coloured dress with a fitted bodice and layers that flare out from the hip, delicate and gauzy. ‘You need to try this on.’
‘I could never afford that.’
‘I didn’t say buy it, I said try it. Go on. How often do we get to do this?’
She hangs the dress in the change room and waits outside. I get into it carefully; the material is so thin it feels like I could tear it. Then I open the door so Maggie can zip me up. She stands back to look.
‘Wow. That is stunning on you.’
I have to admit the dress is gorgeous. I twirl, making the skirt flare. Maggie takes a photo on her phone.
I study myself in the mirror, surprised at how good it looks; at how good I feel wearing it. What would Rafa think about badass Gabe in an evening dress? I picture him next to me in a suit: tailored jacket and pants, a crisp shirt, tie slightly loose. Could we ever have a moment like that? I let my mind wander…And then I see the sales assistant staring at me, horrified. In all my daydreaming I forgot about the hellion bite. My hand comes up to cover it, almost involuntarily, and I duck back into the cubicle.
‘Gaby…’
‘It’s okay.’ I close the door behind me.
For a moment I stand there, stare at my reflection, at the too-delicate, too-expensive dress and my scar. Ride a brief and fierce wave of anger and regret. Who was I kidding? I’ve never been the kind of girl who could wear a dress like this. Maybe one day, in a different life, I might have grown into that skin, but now…not now.
I reach for the zip and the silk sways against my skin again. I can’t undo it. I exhale, open the door a crack. Maggie is waiting, pensive.
‘Can you help me, please?’
Her face softens and it takes a second for me to realise: I’ve never actually asked before.
DANCING IN THE MOONLIGHT
Maggie finds what she’s looking for an hour later: a pencil dress in robin’s egg blue with cap sleeves and vintage beading around the neckline. On sale.
She doesn’t push me to try on anything else. We both know that whatever Rafa has planned for the night won’t involve formal wear. At best it’ll be a few drinks at a bar. At worst…I’m not tempting fate by guessing what that might be.
Back at the hotel, Rafa is propped up on one of the beds, watching a boxing match on TV. Jason has changed into jeans and a shirt. He’s at the desk, reading a newspaper. He lays it down as we walk in and I catch a glimpse of a mangled car on the front page.
I flash hot, then cold. Stop moving.
‘Are you okay?’ Maggie touches my elbow as the heavy door clicks behind us. She follows my gaze to the newspaper. Jason and Rafa look too, at the upside-down car, an accident on a country road somewhere.
‘The anniversary,’ Maggie says. ‘It was today, wasn’t it?’
Rafa mutes the boxing commentary, swings his legs over the side of the bed.
I nod. The movement is jerky, forced. ‘I nearly forgot.’ Something that would have been unthinkable ten days ago.
‘It’s been a big day.’ Maggie rubs my arm.
>
‘Yeah, but…’ I walk to the window in a daze and sit on the sill, turn my back on the city. How could I forget the defining moment of my life? The moment that’s shaped every moment since? Even now, when I know it never happened—that Jude didn’t die in a mess of blood and gore and petrol—that moment is so heavy I can still hardly bear it.
Maggie puts her shopping bags on the table and comes over to me.
I take a steadying breath. ‘When is this going to end?’
‘When we find him.’ Rafa’s voice is quiet.
I look at him but I can’t hold his gaze. There’s too much expectation there. Too much hope.
Maggie squeezes my hand. ‘How are you feeling about tomorrow?’
‘Terrified,’ I whisper so only she can hear.
Jason turns in his chair so he’s facing us. ‘I taught Jude to fish.’
I blink. It’s not what I was expecting from him, but he’s got my attention. ‘When?’
‘About a month after your first visit to Monterosso, in the 1890s. Jude wanted to learn something other than fighting. He said all you did at the Sanctuary was eat, sleep and train. He wanted to eat something he’d caught himself.’ Jason glances at Rafa; he’s got his full attention too. ‘You arrived late in the afternoon—unexpected, as always. I’d already cleaned the nets, so I grabbed bait and lines and we took the boat a little way off shore.’
‘I came too?’
He nods. ‘You didn’t fish, you just watched Jude and teased him. He got his line tangled and jabbed himself with the hook. But he took his time and once he got his line set, he was happy to sit there and wait. He had more patience than half the men I fished with. Definitely more patience than you. We made a decent catch and cooked it over a fire on the beach. Honestly, I’d never seen anyone so pleased with themselves over a fish.’ He smiles at the memory. ‘He was a good guy, Gaby. Smart, caring.’ Jason meets my eyes. ‘When I saw him again a hundred and twenty years later, he was still that person.’
I swallow. Once, twice. It doesn’t shift the lump in my throat. I turn back to the window, press my fingertips against the thick glass. The sky bleeds purple and orange, the light almost gone. Damn Jason—he’s too intuitive for his own good.
‘Thank you,’ I say finally.