Chaos Broken

by Rebekah Turner

  Passing under the staircase, we moved into a receiving room with lounge chairs and a deep mahogany desk near a window that overlooked a beautifully landscaped courtyard.

  Crowhurst collapsed in one of the comfortable-looking chairs and scrubbed a hand over his face.

  Seth glared at me. ‘Talk.’

  Suddenly, words failed me. My eyes trailed over the room, fixing anywhere but on Seth.

  ‘Lora.’ Seth said my name like a warning.

  ‘I’ve got trouble with a kid,’ I forced myself to say. ‘He did something terrible.’

  ‘Since when do you come to me for help?’

  Taking a deep breath, I was about to explain just who this kid was, when a woman entered the room. Her eyes ran over Crowhurst before resting on me, and a frown rippled her forehead. It took me a moment to realise why she seemed familiar. The last time I’d seen her she’d been wearing a skimpy black leather outfit at Gorath’s club, and had been hanging off Seth.

  ‘This isn’t a good time, Dana,’ Seth told her. ‘I need ten minutes.’

  The woman ignored Seth and gestured to me. ‘Why is she here?’

  Seth sighed. ‘Dana, you remember Lora Blackgoat.’

  ‘How lovely to meet you again,’ Dana purred, draping an arm over Seth’s shoulders.

  I’d never thought I had much smarts when it came to body language, but Dana’s was pretty clear. Seth was hers. In a microsecond, I was angry at the notion she was trying to warn me off someone I had a history with. But then I took a breath and the emotion faded to nothing. I had bigger issues. Limping over to Crowhurst, I sat down beside him, massaging my aching bad leg.

  ‘Relax,’ I told her. ‘I’m not here to steal your man. He’s all yours.’

  Dana looked surprised, like she’d been expecting a different response, or at least a bit of venom. I supposed that after the way I’d behaved at our last meeting, there was no reason for her to think any different. I fixed her with a straight look and tried to sound as honest as I could muster.

  ‘I apologise if I was a bitch last time we met. It was inappropriate.’

  The room was silent as everyone stared at me.

  Crowhurst leant towards me. ‘Are you feeling alright?’

  ‘Never felt better,’ I said, trying to ignore the killer headache from my earlier casting. Trying for nonchalance, I laced my hands behind my head. ‘And I meant what I said.’

  ‘Fascinating.’ Seth whispered something into Dana’s ear. She flushed and her face turned smug.

  ‘I accept your apology,’ she told me.

  Seth hesitated, then said, ‘Dana, please, if I could have a moment alone with Lora?’

  Dana brushed her lips over his, then stalked out, hips swaying. When the door closed behind her, Seth heaved what sounded like a relieved sigh.

  ‘She seems…’ I groped for a word that didn’t sound insincere. ‘Suitable.’

  ‘Dana’s one of the city’s best pick-pockets.’

  For a moment all the barriers that had risen up between us crumbled away. I relished that single moment, because I knew if I started looking at it too closely, I’d see it had the shakiest of foundations.

  ‘You were talking about a kid who was bothering you?’ Seth frowned, as if he was trying to remember. He didn’t fool me though. He didn’t forget anything.

  ‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘He killed a client of mine, before trying to kill me.’

  Seth sat in a chair opposite and nodded like he got it. Someone tried to kill good old Lora Blackgoat. Must be Tuesday.

  ‘This kid, his name is Kalin, he’s from the Applecross Orphanage.’ I plucked the photo of Seth from my belt and held it up. ‘He’s your son, isn’t he?’

  Seth’s expression froze. He hesitated, then took the photo and studied it. ‘Reuben, will you please excuse us?’

  ‘Gladly. I’ll meet you outside.’ Crowhurst hurried to the door, shooting me a warning look before pulling it closed.

  Seth turned to face me, expression blank. ‘Where is he?’

  ‘No one knows. I thought you might.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘But he is your son?’

  Seth’s face darkened. ‘Yes. It wasn’t something I wanted.’

  ‘Hardly his fault.’

  Seth made an impatient motion. ‘What did he do, exactly?’

  ‘Murdered an innocent civilian. A client of Blackgoat.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know the reason, but he tried to kill another innocent as well. Another kid. Someone I knew, and he used her to draw me out.’ I stood with a little difficulty. My leg had stiffened and I stretched it out. ‘Why did you never tell me you had a son?’

  ‘He was an error of judgement,’ Seth said in the coldest of voices. He handed me back the photo.

  ‘That’s pretty harsh.’

  He waved my comment away. ‘A woman tried to trap me into marriage. She died in childbirth and I put the boy in a place that would care for him sufficiently.’

  ‘How was that better than him being with his father? You abandoned him.’

  Seth gave a bitter laugh. ‘That’s rich, coming from you. Aren’t I some sort of evil villain in your eyes? You know some of the things I’ve done. And didn’t you once accuse me of poisoning your precious nephilim lover?’

  I braced my knees. The easy moment between us now was well and truly gone. ‘Fine. I was probably wrong about that. But to be fair, you never really denied it.’

  ‘How could I? You’d made your mind up about the matter – without proof, I might add.’ His face twisted. ‘And now, you come here to ask my help, with this, after that mad show outside?’

  ‘You’re mistaken, Seth.’ I limped for the door with slow, uneven steps. ‘This isn’t me asking for your assistance. I came here as a sign of respect, to warn you about your son. He knows who you are and he has an interest in you. This is a message I’m delivering, between two equals.’

  Seth laughed, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t from seeing the humour in the situation. ‘I command an army of assassins and control Harken’s underworld. You look after a stable of second-rate Runners. And you think we’re equals?’

  ‘Like I said, I came here to warn you. I’m looking for your son, and when I find him, he’s going to have justice served to him.’ I threw Seth a smile I knew he’d find infuriating. ‘And the show, as you put it? That’s my message, from me to you.’

  ‘What message?’

  ‘Not to fuck with me,’ I said, then stepped out of the room and closed the door behind me.

  Chapter 18

  Crowhurst didn’t say anything as we left. Nor did he talk when we got back in his car. We made a pit-stop by some food stalls for a quick lunch. Sitting on the hood of his car, we munched on bread folded around meat and spiced relish. Wagons creaked past and street urchins crowded around the boot of the car, kicking the wheels and giggling when Crowhurst yelled at them to get lost.

  ‘That was a really dangerous play you pulled back there,’ he finally said, talking through a mouthful. ‘You just can’t take risks like that anymore. At least, not unless there’s a payday somewhere down the line.’

  ‘Sorry I got you involved with it,’ I said.

  ‘Sure you are,’ Crowhurst said. ‘And I’m sure there’s a way to make it up to me.’

  ‘And how would I go about that?’

  ‘Hazard pay, boss.’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘You’re a Runner, Crowhurt. Your entire job is a hazard.’

  He grunted and leaned forward to wipe his hands on my pants. I recoiled, slapping his hand away and nearly dropping my food.

  ‘What the actual fuck, Reuben.’

  ‘Sorry baby, I’m wearing real leather. Grease stains are a bitch to get out.’

  I shoved his shoulder. ‘Jerk.’

  Crowhurst’s grin disappeared. ‘You know Gideon is retiring soon, if the sly goat hasn’t already sidestepped into it. Which makes you the real boss. And the boss needs a go
od right-hand man.’

  I licked my fingers, thinking hard. What Crowhurst was saying sent a tremor of worry through me. The only thing that made running Blackgoat bearable was that it was a temporary measure. Squashing the sensation down, I reminded myself that the old goat and Orella were coming back soon. Then we could all have a sit-down and talk rationally about things. If I had to warm to the idea of taking over Blackgoat, I wanted a gradual shift, a more gentle slide into the leadership position. With plenty of back-up and maybe a healthy retirement plan. As far as I was concerned, when Gideon got back I was taking a nice long vacation. Or at least crawling under my bed for several weeks.

  We arrived at the theatre with the city clock ringing an hour past noon. Crowhurst parked behind another clockwork car, a massive machine with tinted windows. He gave a low whistle as he got out to admire it up close.

  ‘What a sweet ride.’

  ‘You like it?’

  We both turned to see Gorath standing under the scaffolding at the front of the theatre. With Roman warning me about all the civil unrest and Manika’s business interests in the theatre company, it shouldn’t have surprised me to see him, but it did. His face was laid bare in the sun and I saw the scarring high on his neck that twisted up behind his right ear. A pair of round sunglasses hid his nephilim eyes, and he wore a grey coat with the collar up against the cool air. A cigarette dangled loose in one hand.

  We approached but I stopped when I spied slogans that had been painted across the front of the theatre. Someone had started washing them off, but hadn’t gotten very far. Gorath noticed my expression.

  ‘Nicola tells me there’s an epidemic of teenage gangs, painting on buildings everywhere,’ he said.

  ‘He rises,’ Crowhurst read, then glanced at me. ‘What do you think it means?’

  Gorath sucked deep on his cigarette. ‘It’s just kids being kids.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ I said, trying to sound like I believed that.

  Crowhurst didn’t look like he believed me and I didn’t blame him. Then Crowhurst realised both Gorath and I were staring at him. ‘What?’

  ‘Can you give us a moment?’ I asked him.

  ‘Anon’s balls!’ Crowhurst threw his hands up. ‘Fine. Kick me out again. I’ll just run along and find Nicola.’ He stalked inside the building, muttering under his breath about being a third wheel.

  ‘Sensitive fellow, your man,’ Gorath remarked.

  ‘We had a rough morning,’ I told him. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Manika wanted to stay in Harken for a little while, to help her cousin with setting things up,’ Gorath said with a tired drawl. ‘She insists on keeping one foot firmly planted in both worlds. The travel doesn’t seem to affect her one way or another, but I get slammed with a lag-sickness every time.’

  ‘Must be true love.’

  ‘Must be.’

  ‘So you’re staying in the city, just for Manika?’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘I suppose you heard that Roman was here?’

  Gorath lifted the cigarette to his lips. ‘I did hear this.’

  ‘You here to keep an eye on him?’

  ‘You might say that. While I was the one to suggest this course of action, I had hoped more planning would have gone into it. The Grigori are still dangerous. They know to let the nephilim have any freedom would be at the expense of their strength.’

  ‘And you’re just keeping your nose out of the whole affair?’ I asked. ‘Doesn’t even crosses your mind to press your advantage somehow, does it? With Roman a wanted man in Harken?’

  Gorath laughed. ‘What advantage would I have in having the Grigori capture him?’ He finished his smoke and dropped the stub. ‘I’m here to support Manika with family business, but I’m also here to keep an eye on those I care for and to protect them, even if it’s from themselves.’ He pulled another cigarette from his silver case and lit it with a match. ‘I trust you heard of the arrival of the High Grigori from Thesma this morning? A cut-throat by the name of Laeonder?’

  ‘Someone might have mentioned it,’ I said, the name ringing a faint bell.

  ‘Laeonder will view Roman as a terrorist. A hostile against the Order. They will tear this city apart looking for him. You should convince him to leave. We need to act together, not work apart.’

  ‘I don’t think he’ll listen to me,’ I said, but his warning resonated with me. What Roman was trying to do with Fowler was foolhardy at best, suicide at worst. Fowler might be a reasonable man, but most other Grigori weren’t as enlightened. Roman needed all the help he could get, even if it was with Captain Crazypants.

  ‘I hope you don’t still doubt my motivations, Lora,’ Gorath said. ‘I have great faith in Roman and what he can do for our cause. One only has to look at him to see he has been touched by divinity.’

  I wasn’t sure about the divinity angle, but said nothing. Gorath’s belief in Roman as a leader was a vast improvement on him wanting to fight me to fulfil a prophecy.

  ‘How long are you here for?’ I asked. ‘Since the arrival of this High Grigori, I’d have thought you’d want to be far away.’

  ‘These matters do not concern Manika, and I would not bother her with them. We will stay here a little longer.’ Gorath squinted at me through the cigarette smoke. ‘Do you still have my gift?’

  ‘Uh…sure.’

  ‘Seth suggested you might try to destroy it, but he could convince you not to.’

  ‘Uh…yeah.’

  ‘Yeah…what? He convinced you, or you just went and burned my priceless gift?’

  ‘Lora?’ Nicola appeared at the theatre door. Manika walked alongside her, holding Nicola’s baby in her arms. ‘We were wondering what on earth you were doing out here for so long.’

  ‘Here, isn’t he just beautiful?’ Manika cooed and tried to put the baby into Gorath’s arms. When she noticed the cigarette, she frowned and stepped back. ‘I thought you were quitting.’

  ‘I am,’ Gorath said. ‘I swear this is my last one for the day.’

  ‘Lora, Crowhurst said you were looking for Roosen,’ Nicola said. ‘He’s not here right now, but he’ll be in tomorrow. I do hope you’ll talk to him.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I can come back.’

  The baby spied me and began to wail.

  ‘Come on,’ I said over the howling. ‘I’m not that bad.’

  Manika passed the crying baby back to Nicola, who made soft shushing sounds until he quietened down. Gorath stubbed out his cigarette on a piece of scaffolding with a chuckle, then planted an affectionate kiss on Manika’s cheek, before they both headed back in, leaving me with Nicola and baby Tarn. Crowhurst wandered out to join us.

  ‘Did Nicola tell you he’d be in tomorrow?’ he asked me.

  ‘I told her,’ Nicola said, gently patting the baby. The sobbing turned to hiccups, then stopped. ‘Roosen can be a difficult, but he’s a brilliant writer. I’ve seen him take the smallest detail, find its true meaning and express it in a way that brings tears to your eyes.’

  ‘Sounds great.’ I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but didn’t do a good enough job and Crowhurst shot me a stern look.

  ‘We’ll be back tomorrow,’ he assured Nicola.

  ‘Lovely.’ She gave us both air kisses, then disappeared.

  Crowhurst scratched the back of his head. ‘There goes that plan. What now?’

  ‘I’d murder for a drink,’ I said.

  ‘You only just had lunch.’

  ‘I know, I know.’ I jerked a thumb in the direction of his car. ‘Can you take me back to Blackgoat? It’s time to go on the offensive. I want to put some Runners out to look for this Kalin kid and get him off the street before he manages to kill someone else.’

  Chapter 19

  The rest of the day flew by, filled with administrative duties and a sit-down with some Runners concerned for the future of their jobs. I wasn’t able to completely convince them Blackgoat’s future was secure, but I did at least assure them we were g
ood for the rest of the month. At least, I hoped we were.

  Night fell, along with a heavy downpour, and I spent half of it in my empty kitchen, nursing a glass of gin and a nagging, lonely feeling that burrowed through me, threatening to leave me hollow inside.

  After a restless night’s sleep, two coffees, a sturdy corset and no-nonsense jeans propped me up, helping me out the door. I made a quick stop at the local markets to load up on pastries, fresh bread and chilli sausages for the Runners, before heading on to Blackgoat. I was early and the silence at the shop was soothing at first, but I was glad when Runners began to trickle in, following their noses to the cooking sausages. Some of them had small jobs later in the day, but those who didn’t I charged with looking for Kalin.

  While Grubber waited for his shift to start at a security job at the harbour, we poured over the page I’d torn out of the Aldebaran, both hopelessly lost with the dense language.

  Out in the courtyard, a handful of Runners sat in the courtyard, talking quietly among themselves while they ate. A cup of coffee sat in front of me, and I’d eaten three sausages.

  ‘What does sanguinary mean?’ I squinted at the word.

  Grubber peered at the thesaurus through the battered spectacles perched low on his big nose.

  ‘Sanguinary. Something that involves bloodshed,’ he read out. He looked at me over the rim of his glasses. ‘Does that make it any clearer?’

  I put the pages down and rubbed my eyes. ‘I wish Orella was here. She’d explain it to me.’

  ‘You’re not doing so bad.’

  ‘No.’ I grabbed the pages and waved them about. ‘I don’t understand what it all means. It doesn’t make any sense to me.’

  ‘How about this bit? I understand that.’ Grubber pointed to a passage. ‘A raven-haired Dreadwitch shall be cast into The Weald.’

  ‘Tells me bloody nothing,’ I grumbled.

  ‘Sorry boss.’ Grubber got to his feet, grabbing the coffee he’d been nursing. ‘You need to hire a scholar or something, get them to…you know…make it less smart so you can understand it.’

  ‘Thanks. I think.’