Shimmer

by Paula Weston

  ‘Apparently it still had her scent.’

  She glances at the hellion bite on my neck. ‘How bad was it?’

  And just like that, my throat is all cotton wool.

  ‘Rafa took one through the stomach,’ Zak says. ‘Taya, here.’ He demonstrates a chopping motion above his collarbone, angled towards his shoulder.

  ‘Why didn’t they shift?’

  ‘It happened too fast.’

  ‘How many were there?’ Micah asks.

  ‘Too many. Including Zarael.’ Zak and Micah exchange a look heavy with understanding. Their fear stokes my own.

  ‘Shit,’ Daisy whispers.

  Mya pushes her way in front of Jude. ‘Like you care whether Rafa lives or dies.’

  Everything about Daisy hardens. ‘Don’t tell me how I feel about Rafa.’

  ‘Yeah, God forbid someone should judge you.’

  ‘Glad to see you appreciate the hospitality of the Sanctuary.’

  ‘It wasn’t my call.’

  ‘And yet you’re still here.’

  ‘Not for long. Count on it.’

  Micah puts his arm out as if to hold Daisy back. ‘We didn’t come here for a fight.’

  Ez steps up next to Mya. ‘You want to tell Daisy that?’

  ‘That’s Daisy?’ Jude gives her an appreciative once-over that brings a flush to her neck. ‘You’re the one with the twin-bladed sais?’

  She dips her head. ‘That’s me.’

  It takes a second for me to realise he means the skinny daggers she uses. Of all the things I’ve told Jude in the past few hours, I can’t believe that detail stuck.

  ‘I’d like to see those in action,’ he says.

  ‘I’d say that’s a given at this point.’ Her eyes roam over him. ‘You look good.’

  Mya clucks her tongue. ‘That’s why you came down here—to check Jude out?’

  ‘Believe it or not, Mya, people here care about Jude too.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Mya smiles, taunting. ‘I bet they do.’

  Micah steps between them, exasperated. ‘Why don’t you two sort this out on the mats?’

  Daisy’s green eyes shine. ‘Excellent idea.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Ez says before I can think of a way to stop it. ‘That’s hardly a fair fight.’

  ‘I can handle myself.’ Mya shakes out her wrists.

  ‘Yes, you can, but not against Daisy. You and everyone here knows it. Don’t make this about more than it needs to be.’

  Jones raises his hand. ‘I’ll take on Daisy. Unless she’s got those blades tucked somewhere I can’t see them.’

  Daisy measures him. ‘In there?’ She points to the boxing ring.

  Something flickers in Jones’s face—satisfaction? ‘Absolutely.’

  Jude looks from Daisy to me. ‘Is this okay?’

  I blow out my breath. It’s not okay—it’s wasting time we don’t have—but that’s not what he’s asking. ‘This is about as healthy as it gets between this lot. It doesn’t matter what the question is, the answer is usually a throw down.’ I follow them to the ring.

  Jones and Daisy climb through the ropes and stretch out their arms and shoulders. Jones is already in trackpants and fitted singlet; Daisy strips down to a t-shirt, tossing her hoodie at Micah. The Outcasts gather around the ropes with an odd sense of anticipation.

  Daisy and Jones circle each other, cautious. I grip the middle rope—too tight, impatient—and vaguely wonder how long it’s been since they faced off.

  Daisy attacks first, quick and fast. Jones ducks her punch and then drops into splits to avoid a roundhouse kick. He doesn’t just have the body of a dancer; he moves like one too. Still on the floor, he swings his legs around in a scissor kick but Daisy jumps up to miss them. He rolls out of the way to avoid being stomped. She leaps at him again but he’s gone before she lands. Not shifted—just moving insanely fast. Their movements are fluid, like an aggressive ballet.

  They’ve done this before.

  Daisy takes off away from Jones, plants a foot on the second rope, spins, and launches at him. He dives out of the way. She curls up and lands in a commando roll. I look around at the ring. Everyone is caught in the moment—except Mya. She looks on, stony-faced.

  Daisy and Jones continue their dance. It takes as much skill and concentration to attack each other at this speed without making contact as it does to connect. I’ve never seen the Rephaim like this. I have to admit, it’s mesmerising. Beautiful, even.

  And then, when they’re both in the air and it looks like one of them has finally misjudged their flight, a third person materialises between them and king-hits Jones to the canvas.

  Malachi.

  I’m through the ropes before I think about it. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’

  Jones is already on his feet, wiping blood from his mouth. Movement to my left catches my eye. It’s Zak. He’s ready to tear Malachi apart.

  ‘Hang on,’ I say, eyes back on Malachi. ‘I’ve got this. Daisy, don’t go anywhere.’

  ‘Wasn’t planning on it.’ She’s somewhere behind me.

  Malachi grunts. ‘Get out of the ring, Gabe.’ His eyes are overcast with anger and grief.

  ‘They’re just blowing off steam.’

  ‘Zarael has Taya. You think this is the time for games?’

  ‘It’s better than staring at those beige walls upstairs going crazy, waiting for someone here to make a decision about that farmhouse.’

  His lips press together so hard they turn white. ‘Get out of the ring or it’ll be you and me.’

  The Outcasts fall still. Jones and Daisy slip between the ropes and join them. I should walk away, get what I need from Daisy. But the Outcasts are all waiting to see how far I’ll take this. I can feel it now: the fear, the unknowing. Theirs and mine: it’s all there under my ribcage, churning. A burst of adrenaline hits my heart and strength surges through me like an aftershock. I drop and sweep Malachi’s legs out from under him, just like Rafa did to me on the training mats in Dubai.

  Malachi hits the canvas hard. He springs back up almost instantly, shoves hair out of his face. ‘Cheap shot, Gabe.’

  ‘I still owe you a couple.’ I turn side-on, unable to keep still.

  ‘Gaby…’ It’s Jude, but I can’t think about him right now.

  Malachi stalks closer. This is the first time I’ve fought him without a sword—or a toilet brush. I need to keep moving—

  Malachi’s boot flies up at me before I finish that thought. I jump back and block the kick just as his fist connects with my kidney. I forgot how quick he is. Dull pain radiates across my hip but I slam my knee into his chest before he straightens. He hops back.

  I crack a knuckle like Rafa would. Feel stronger hearing that sound.

  Malachi comes at me again, feints right, left, and then throws a lightning-fast punch. I don’t get my hands up quick enough. It connects with my cheek and the world momentarily explodes into tiny white shards of pain. I keep my feet and dodge Malachi’s next punch, striking out blindly with my heel and connecting with the side of his knee. He drops down and I slam my elbow into his nose.

  My cheek is throbbing. I’m bleeding, but now so is Malachi; his goatee is shiny with it. He gets to his feet. He’s nowhere near done yet. We wipe away blood, eyeball each other, and go at it again. Malachi gets in another solid punch—my ribs this time—before I finally catch on to his timing and rhythm. And then we fall into our own, more brutal, ballet of kicks and punches, blocks and strikes.

  There’s no sound in the room except our breathing and shuffling, fists smacking on flesh. And Zak reminding me to keep moving, keep my hands up.

  I crunch a knee into Malachi’s thigh; he elbows my lower back. I punch the side of his head; he kicks my ankle. I feel nothing except pain. Think of nothing except attacking and defending.

  I don’t know how long we keep going; long enough for the blood on our faces to dry. Long enough for the sting to go out of our anger. We keep swinging at each other li
ke heavyweights in the twelfth round of a championship bout, getting slower and slower. Not taking our eyes from each other.

  Finally, Zak climbs into the ring. ‘How about we call this one a draw?’

  Malachi and I stop throwing punches but keep circling, dragging our feet. My limbs are heavy; my heart feels like it’s pumping molasses.

  ‘Enough already,’ Zak says. ‘There’s enough pain headed our way.’

  One of us has to call it quits, and I can see from the set of Malachi’s jaw that it’s not going to be him. And I still need to talk to Daisy about Virginia. My feet stop.

  ‘Draw?’ I manage between breaths.

  He takes two more steps. Waits a second to make sure I’m not playing him. ‘Draw.’

  We drop to our knees together. I slump to the canvas, stare up at the fluorescent lights. Bloody hell, everything hurts. I feel a thud beside me. Malachi is on his back too. His nose is swollen and bloodied, his left eye purple and closed shut. Blood cakes his mouth and goatee and his hair is slick with sweat.

  He turns his head towards me, lets out a ragged breath. ‘Thank you.’

  I close my eyes, absorb the waves of pain pulsing through my body; the bone-deep ache in my cheek. It was brutal and exhausting but for a brief moment we were distracted.

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  HISTORY COUNTS

  ‘Fuck, Gaby, what were you thinking?’

  Jude slides a hand under my shoulders and sits me up. I lean into him a little. He still smells of the ocean, even underground.

  ‘I wasn’t,’ I say. ‘That was the whole point.’

  Daisy touches my shoulder on her way past and offers to help Malachi off the canvas. He waves her away.

  ‘Daisy,’ I rasp. ‘Can we talk?’

  ‘Let me sort out this idiot first.’

  Jude wipes dried blood from my face. ‘God, you’re a mess.’

  I bat his hand. ‘Stop it.’ I half-laugh, but it hurts too much. At some point Malachi split my lip.

  ‘How are you going to fight in Iowa now?’

  Oh. He doesn’t know the Rephaim can heal each other. Something else I need to explain.

  ‘I’ll take care of it,’ Ez says. She’s been waiting beyond the ropes, giving Jude and me a moment. Now she climbs into the ring and helps him lift me to my feet.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Not far. You’ll see.’ Ez puts an arm around my waist, takes my weight from him.

  And like that, I’m being stretched thin and crushed back together—and then I’m across the room by the door. I raise my hand to Jude. By the time he responds we’re back in the ring. He flinches, gives us a filthy look. ‘Thanks for the warning.’

  My insides settle and I test my muscle soreness. Better. Jude is staring at my lip. I check and find it’s not fat anymore and the split is almost completely healed.

  He stares at Ez. ‘You did that?’

  ‘I shared enough energy to speed up Gabe’s natural healing process. Nothing more. One of the benefits of shifting together.’

  ‘That’s…handy.’

  Malachi hauls himself up by the ropes, sways on his feet. His eyes fix on me. There’s no anger left, just pain and worry.

  ‘Don’t push Nathaniel too far.’ The words come out thick. ‘Don’t give him an excuse not to go after them.’

  I nod, unsure if I mean it.

  ‘Right,’ Daisy says to him. ‘Are you going to let me help you or are you going to keep being a dick?’

  He glowers at her through his swollen eye. ‘When you’re ready.’

  ‘I’ll catch you in the commissary,’ she says to me. Then she ducks under Malachi’s arm and they disappear before I can think of something to make her stay. Shit.

  The Outcasts drift off into pairs to spar. Mya waits while Jude, Ez and I climb out between the ropes. For once Mya’s more interested in me than Jude.

  ‘What?’ I say to her.

  She shakes her head. ‘You. Every time I think you’re sliding back into being Gabe you go do something like that.’ She flicks her fingers in the direction of the ring. I try to read her expression. One minute she’s sniping at me, blaming me for all that’s wrong with the Rephaim; the next she’s putting bullets in Bel, saving my life in LA. Her mood swings are exhausting.

  ‘You still want a workout?’ Ez asks Mya, massaging the tension from her arms. She needs a release too.

  ‘What about Jude?’

  Jones slaps his palms together. ‘I’ll take him on.’

  ‘I don’t have the moves to match your footwork, buddy,’ Jude says.

  ‘That’s all right, we’ll go old school. You know, actually hit each other.’

  Jude checks I’m okay and they find space on the mats. I look around for Micah, find him sitting cross-legged on a weights bench watching the Outcasts, holding Daisy’s hoodie. I ease myself down next to him, still a little tender.

  ‘You want to go a few more rounds? I’ll take you on.’

  I push his shoulder.

  ‘Soft,’ he says. His eyes skim over the Outcasts. The sparring is urgent, frenetic. They’re all wound as tight as I am. Maybe tighter: they’ve never been powerless before.

  ‘They’ve kept up their training, I’ll give them that,’ Micah says.

  ‘It’s not like they’ve been lazing around on a beach for the past decade.’

  He glances at me. ‘I’m sorry, did you just defend the Outcasts?’

  ‘No…’

  ‘You did a job with them yesterday, though, didn’t you?’

  I rub my eyelid, nod.

  ‘So. What was it like?’

  I look past him, remember the raid on the nightclub. The stench of stale beer and cigarettes. The pulsing lights and throbbing music. Immundi demons with sharp suits and sharp teeth. Screaming kids. Bel pinning me to the fence, spraying blood on my face. Promising to hurt me.

  ‘Mostly terrifying.’ I don’t have to check Micah’s reaction to know that’s not the response he was expecting.

  ‘Who called the shots?’

  ‘Mya came up with the plan but Rafa and Zak took over once we got there.’

  ‘Huh. Maybe she’s not as reckless as she’d like us to believe.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

  ‘Is it all about the money or is she still obsessed with killing every demon walking the earth?’

  I find Mya in the crowd of sparring Outcasts. Loose blonde hair falling across her eyes as she protects herself from a barrage of Ez’s kicks. She definitely wanted to kill Immundi in LA—but then so did I once I understood what was going on in that basement.

  ‘They save humans. They kill demons. They get paid. What’s so bad about that?’

  Micah opens his mouth, falters. ‘Nothing. But tell anyone I said that and there’ll be no more of these little chats.’

  I’m cooling down now, feeling the chill in the room. Thoughts of Rafa crowd in again. I push them back, concentrate on Micah. Wonder if I can trust him.

  Screw it, it’s worth the risk.

  ‘Do you know where Virginia is?’

  He gives me a level look. ‘Why?’

  ‘I need to talk to her.’

  ‘Give the Five a chance to interrogate her.’

  ‘She’s been here for a day, they’ve had their go.’

  ‘Antagonising Nathaniel is not the way to help Rafa.’

  I sit around to face him. ‘So, what, you always do what you’re supposed to?’ He doesn’t answer so I push on. ‘If that’s true, then why didn’t you tell anyone about Jason? You saw him shift up at the Retreat and yet nobody here knew about him until a few hours ago.’

  ‘I figured you knew what you were doing.’

  ‘Why would you think that?’

  He shrugs. ‘Because I’ve known you my entire life and I trust you.’

  ‘So trust me now. Help me with Virginia.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because this is bigger th
an you and me.’

  I wonder if that’s the truth. I reach under my hair, touch the thick scar on the back of my neck. ‘It’s because I’m not Gabe, right?’

  Micah’s eyes darken. ‘That’s not true and you know it. It took me about five seconds at that cabin to see you’re the same person you’ve always been. You’ve got the same quick temper, same impulses. Same fighting style. Same lack of tact.’

  I pick at the loose stitching on the weight bench. I feel the Sanctuary pressing in around me. The weight of my history here. The reason we’re all in this mess right now.

  I have to ask.

  ‘Do you think I betrayed everyone last year?’

  He studies me. ‘Because you ran off with Jude? I don’t know what you did, but only an idiot would think you’d do something to hurt any of us. And Jude might not have wanted to be here but he’d never hurt us either.’

  ‘What about all these run-ins I keep hearing about between the Sanctuary crew and the Outcasts over the past decade? You know, with swords and poleaxes? I’m guessing he was trying to hurt someone then.’ And did Micah just call Daniel an idiot?

  ‘That doesn’t count. Nobody’s ever trying to kill anyone. Whatever you and Jude did, no matter how bad it turned out, I’ve never doubted your intentions.’

  I pull on the thread and it snaps free. I roll it into a tiny ball and flick it from my thumb. Around us the gym is a blur of energy and movement, bodies connecting. Forearms, elbows, fists, boots. ‘I can’t work out if you’re naive or if I should be flattered you trust me so implicitly.’

  ‘Be flattered: I trust you more than anyone else alive.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you’ve been bailing me out of trouble for decades. That’s what you do.’

  I meet his eyes, curious. ‘Define “trouble”.’

  A pause. ‘In the early days it was sneaking off to bars. You always covered for me, and not just when I was out with Jude and Rafa.’

  My pulse catches at Rafa’s name. For a second, the room tilts and I dig my fingertips into the bench to keep myself upright. The cold gets back into my bones.

  ‘I had some addiction issues in the ’90s.’ Micah glances away, self-conscious. I look more closely at his face, his clear eyes, smooth skin. ‘You won’t find any traces of it now. Shifting’s good for more than bumps and bruises.’ I catch the sadness behind his smile. I’m surprised I haven’t recognised it before—or maybe he’s only just now letting me see it. ‘I had a rough time over a girl. Rafa, Jude and Daisy knew what was going on, but you were the one who stepped in. You faked a mission to get me out of here and then kept Daniel off my back while I got clean. Made me get help. Shifted with me every few hours to make recovery easier. Daniel knew something was going on, but you never told him…even after you hooked up with him.’