Grubber’s footsteps retreated to the courtyard and when I was sure I was alone, I dropped my hands and stared at the pages in despair.
‘Knock, knock.’
The voice startled me, but I was even more surprised when I saw it belonged to Roosen. He stood in the kitchen doorway wearing a flamboyant, wide-brimmed hat and what looked like silk pyjama pants under a purple greatcoat. One of his eyes was puffy and bruised and from the liquor smell wafting off him, I surmised he was decidedly drunk.
‘May I join you?’ He gestured unsteadily towards the table. I was so surprised I just kept staring. Roosen took a quick swing from the bottle, wiped his mouth, then said, ‘I’d like to talk.’
‘Sorry. Of course. Sit down.’ I quickly gestured towards the chair Grubber had vacated. ‘I thought we were meeting later?’
Roosen sat, thumping the bottle of whiskey onto the table and my nose wrinkled at the stink of cheap liquor.
‘I heard you wanted to kiss and make up,’ he stated.
‘I wasn’t aware we were fighting,’ I said smoothly.
‘You have to admit our last meeting was a disaster.’
I threw him a half dimple. ‘And that was me on a good day.’
‘Consider me not entirely charmed.’
My small smile dropped. ‘Tell me then, what I can do to make this happen.’
Roosen sighed. ‘You know…I once had aspirations of being a writer. I was going to write a great novel and become the darling of High Town.’
‘I’ve heard worse plans.’ I sipped my coffee.
‘Only my inspiration decreased in direct correlation to my dwindling savings.’
‘That can happen.’
He took a shot of his whiskey. ‘I don’t particularly want to work with you. But my muse has abandoned me and I am left with no hope but to try and make something work with you. Perhaps you are to be my epic, my greatest work, my redemption.’ Roosen’s face crumpled and he lowered his face into his hands. ‘Oh, gods.’
‘Cheer up. You wouldn’t be the first to feel that way.’ I folded up the pages from the Aldebaran and tried to think of the words that would fix things with the writer. But only quips and insults came to mind, so I pressed my lips together and kept silent. Too much was riding on this job and after the humiliation of losing the contract with the Order, I’d started to smarten up a little. Reee-straint, I heard people call it. Right now, I needed it in spades.
A silence stretched out between us, the low rumble of conversation from the Runners in the courtyard acting as background noise.
‘You don’t want to try to charm me or anything?’ Roosen asked. ‘Lay some flattery at my door so I’ll agree to turn your life story into this ridiculous play?’
‘Would anything I say really influence you?’ I asked dryly.
Roosen heaved another sigh. ‘I suppose if you have to ask for something, it loses its meaning somewhat. Let’s just forget it. It’s clear we can’t work together.’
‘Sounds like you need this job just as much as I do,’ I said quickly. ‘I’ll try if you will.’
His face twisted. ‘Madam. I am an artist. An art-ist. Which means for my art to mean something, I must be inspired.’ His eyes rolled over me. ‘And right now, darling, with all your bad manners and hideous choice in shoes, you are hardly getting my creative juices flowing.’
‘You knock my choice of shoes again and something will be flowing alright.’ I nodded at his black eye. ‘How’d you get the shiner?’
‘A little domestic issue.’ He swayed in the chair and I grabbed him, keeping him upright. With my free hand, I took the bottle of liquor.
‘How about I get you some coffee?’ I put the bottle out of reach. Grabbing the pot from the range cooker, I poured Roosen a large black coffee and set it in front of him.
‘Do you have milk?’ he asked quietly.
Checking the cold-box, I found nothing but a hunk of cheese and smoked blood sausages. ‘Sorry. Maybe black is best for you right now. Think of it as medicinal,’ I said.
He sipped the coffee and winced. ‘I have a problem.’
I slipped into professional mode, mimicking how Crowhurst acted around clients. I folded my hands in front of me and adopted a concerned look. ‘Tell me about it.’ When Roosen hesitated, I placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s alright. You can trust me.’
Incredibly, this appeared to reassure him. He gulped his coffee, then said, ‘Six months ago, I met a man called Josiah Gamber at an art exhibit. He’s a painter and has an amazing talent.’ Roosen’s face turned wistful. ‘He had such vision. I thought he was going to explode onto the art scene. All he needed was a little focus. A little encouragement.’
‘I see.’
‘Do you?’ Roosen played with his empty coffee mug. ‘Because I didn’t. I gave him money and a place to stay. All the support and kind words he needed. A few months later, he started demanding money. Drinking heavily. Staying out all night.’ Roosen’s voice began to tremble. ‘I finally told him to leave last night. Told him that he’d outstayed his welcome. You want to know what he said?’
‘Tell me.’
‘He told me I was an old man who nobody was ever going to love, and I should be thanking him every day for the gift of his company. When I told him to leave again, he hit me.’ The admission broke the last of Roosen’s reserve and he lowered his head into his hands and began to sob. Though the tears moved me, I was nearing the limits of my empathy. I preferred a more direct approach to problems and the situation felt simple enough. This guy, Gamber, needed to have his arse kicked into next week, so I’d just go and do it. Then Roosen and I could work together in reasonable harmony, I’d get paid, and Blackgoat would be saved.
Simple.
‘Why don’t you give me your address?’ I asked. ‘I’ll send some Runners over to have a chat with him. They could help him see that things have finished between you two. Even help move his things out, all nice like.’
‘No, no.’ Roosen swiped at his tears. ‘I couldn’t be that cruel.’
‘Then you’ve come to the right place, because I can be. Let me help you.’
‘No.’ He got to his feet and lurched towards the door.
‘Roosen, stop,’ I said. ‘You came here to ask for my help and I’m offering it.’
He hesitated by the door, shoulders slumped. ‘This was a mistake. Just forget I came.’
I followed, trying to reason with him. ‘Then I’ll go on my own. Just to have a chat. Feel him out. No muscle.’
‘No.’ Roosen whirled with a snarl. ‘I said forget it. I don’t want to see you ever again. Understand?’
‘Be reasonable. I need this job —’
Roosen yanked the front door open to reveal two Regulators, looking like they had been about to barge right in. With a desperate glance back at me, Roosen slipped away. I watched him go, wondering how I could fix this mess. The Regulators parted and Crowhurst squeezed through.
‘Lora, these Regulators are here to escort you to the city morgue. Apparently there’s an issue with Lady Poulter’s body and Grigori Fowler wants to speak with you.’
I frowned, confused. Last I’d heard on the matter, Caleb was keeping the Grigori away from the case. But if Fowler was involved, it meant either the Order had discovered the darkcraft link, or Caleb had reached out for help. I peered at the Regulators filling the doorway. ‘What’s with the armed escort?’
‘I don’t think you have the most reliable of reputations.’
‘Thought you were on my side.’
Crowhurst grabbed my cane and shoved it into my hands. ‘I am. Now get your coat. This is a paying job, so hurry up.’
Chapter 20
A Regulator coach waited at the end of Abraham’s Alley. Dark clouds hung low and water from intermittent rainfall dripped from the chains and spikes embedded in the black timber of the coach. A third Regulator sat on the driver’s perch, and as I settled back the coach jerked forward, swaying as it joined the traffic.
One of the nephilim leaned forward and I smelled wine on his breath. ‘Remember me, Kitty?’
It took me a moment to place him. We’d met briefly last year and then again when I was on contract with the Order. As with most Regulators, I didn’t like him and I didn’t trust him. And he had kept calling me Kitty, which I hated.
‘Well met, Locan,’ I said, keeping it nice and formal. Most of the nephilim were a little odd, but there was something about Locan that made me edgy.
‘I want to ask you something,’ Locan said. The nephilim next to him stared at me, the tattoos on his face stark against his pale skin.
‘Ask away.’ I gripped my seat as the driver took a corner a little faster than I thought necessary. It wasn’t as though he’d have to watch out for traffic; most people cleared the streets when a Regulator coach appeared.
‘We’ve heard you’re involved with Roman, is this true?’
‘None of your business, buddy,’ I replied briskly.
Locan grinned, like I’d given him all the answer I needed. ‘We also heard the Lord had blessed him for surviving the beserker sickness.’
‘No idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Come on, Kitty.’ Locan winked. ‘You can trust me.’
I just rolled my eyes and settled back. Tension wound up my spine and I knew I needed to find out from Roman what was going on with the nephilim Regulators.
We arrived at the morgue and rushed through the rain to the entrance. Inside, an attendant directed us to a small room and the two Regulators positioned themselves on either side of the door, nodding for me to enter. The room inside had a concave floor and multiple drains, and church-sanctioned spells marked the walls in chalk, keeping the room cold enough for corpses. In the centre, a body lay on a table and Caleb and Fowler both stood beside it, glancing up when I entered, their breath puffing in the cold.
‘Who’s that?’ I asked, wrinkling my nose at the advanced state of decomposition of the body.
‘Headmistress Poulter,’ Caleb told me.
‘Are you serious?’ I inched closer to it. Something had happened since I’d seen the body, turning it into a shrivelled brown husk. Dead bodies weren’t new to me, but seeing my old headmistress’s body defiled in such a way made something bottom out inside me. ‘What happened to her?’
‘We’re not sure,’ Caleb said. ‘When the body was moved from the crime scene, it began to deteriorate. The process stopped once it was inside the morgue, so we think the magic here slowed down the decay. Naturally, we contacted the Order immediately.’
‘Which, perhaps, should have happened as soon as the body was found,’ Fowler said lightly, but Caleb didn’t even blink at the dig. ‘By the time we were able to examine the scene, the remnants of the Calling Circle the victim had been killed in was too obscured to make any sense of.’
‘So, you’ve got no idea on the type of spell used?’ I asked him.
Fowler shrugged. ‘From the scene reports we saw a few random numbers that were written inside the circle, but it was too obscured by the deceased’s blood to make much sense.’
Caleb folded his arms. ‘Lora, the good Father here mentioned you were involved in a recent incident at Saint Pendergrast. He said a similar Calling Circle was found there. One that was a bit clearer.’
‘No, I wasn’t there,’ I responded automatically.
‘I took care of the girl you told you me about, Sabine.’ Fowler’s eyes were sharp. ‘Made sure she was remanded into Captain Caleb’s care, as you asked. Now, according to the Witch Hunter report, she had been bound inside a Calling Circle. One that was filled with what looked like complex calculations. Unfortunately, all the suspects at Pendergrast were killed, or managed to escape.’
I rubbed the back of my neck. ‘Sounds like you two have been comparing notes.’
‘Why did you run away that night at Saint Pendergrast?’ Fowler asked.
‘I didn’t exactly run away.’ I knew I had to be careful here. I didn’t want to admit I was responsible for the darkcraft that night and that it was lucky Cloete had hauled me off before a Witch Hunter had sniffed it on me. I looked at Caleb. ‘Is Sabine okay?’
‘She’s doing just fine,’ Caleb assured me. ‘She identified Kalin as her kidnapper.’
‘A boy who, I understand, is the primary suspect in this case.’ Fowler waved a hand over Poulter’s ruined body.
‘Any idea why he would use her to lure you to Pendergrast?’ Caleb asked me.
I shrugged, not yet willing to share the connection Kalin had with Seth. ‘Sabine was with me when we first met him, just before we stumbled across Poulter’s body. He sent me a message, told me where I had to go. I got there and he tried to kill her. There was a fight and I got knocked out. My back-up showed and carted me out of there.’ I touched the angry puckered scar on my hand. The wound had closed and was healing quickly enough thanks to the Bishop’s Balm, though it itched madly. ‘What kind of Calling Circle does this damage to a body?’
‘I rather thought you might have some insights.’ Fowler raised an eyebrow at me.
‘Me?’ I gave a snort. ‘I’ve no idea what magic he’s using. I do know the kid is nuts. He talked about someone “rising”. It made no sense to me.’
‘I think the answer is obvious,’ Fowler said. ‘He has a copy of the Key of Aldebaran and is attempting to use chaos magic. It would explain his interest in you. After all, this has happened before.’
‘But he didn’t mentioned anything about the Aldebaran.’ I pointed out. ‘Or try to get any of my blood to unlock its spells.’
Caleb said nothing, no doubt having very bad flashbacks of the time he was blackmailed into helping a madman, with a copy of the Aldebaran, to wield chaos magic with a vial of my blood.
‘I will check again with the scholars at the Order,’ Fowler said. ‘Many are wary of darkcraft, but someone might be willing to look into the relevance of the numbers.’
Caleb thrust a hand through his hair. ‘I’m going to arrange for extra constables to patrol Abraham’s Alley and around your home, Lora. See if we can catch this kid trying to make another move.’
I threw him some dimples. ‘If you’re having any trouble finding the necessary resources, I have some Runners available at reasonable rates.’
Caleb gave a short laugh. ‘I think I’m good.’
Fowler glanced at the Regulators by the door and lowered his voice. ‘I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but High Grigori Laeonder has arrived. He has requested I bring you to him after our appointment here.’ Fowler’s voice took on an urgent tone. ‘He’s looked at your file and I’m warning you, he’s regarding you with a high level of suspicion on a number of issues.’
‘I’ve got nothing to hide.’ I tried to sound like I meant it. ‘But I don’t really have the time to be traipsing over to the Order every time a Grigori gets their nose out of joint.’
Fowler looked pained. ‘I cannot stress enough how important it is that you come with me now. If Laeonder has to ask a second time, he won’t do it nicely. Come with me willingly now and it will look much better than being dragged before him in chains.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Fine, fine. I’ll go talk to the big, scary High Grigori.’
‘Just prepare yourself,’ Fowler warned me. ‘Laeonder had two darkcraft users executed yesterday at the Order. No usual trial. Just judgement and execution.’
The revelation was startling and I raised my eyebrows at Caleb. ‘Is that even legal?’
‘More of a grey area of the law,’ Caleb replied. ‘The Council of Ten have always been wary of stepping on the toes of the Order. Their army of Regulators provide a huge militant deterrent for any hostile threats to the city.’
‘Lucky I can take care of myself,’ I murmured, but I was suddenly more than a little worried. This issue felt much bigger than me and I had no head for politics or religious arguments about darkcraft. I’d been put on trial for its use before. If I’d been caught now, it sounded like a trial
wouldn’t even be an option. Making a promise to myself that I’d say nothing more to the High Grigori than I had to, I followed Fowler and Caleb out of the morgue.
Chapter 21
Fowler and I rode in the back of the coach, while the Regulators rode the step outside, hoods up against the weather. A fresh downpour started up as our journey began, the rain drumming softly on the roof.
Fowler’s forehead was creased and his slender fingers plucked at his thick black robes.
‘You want to tell me why this High Grigori really wants to meet me?’ I asked.
‘I told you, he’s read your file and now wants to talk to you. Said he was disturbed by some of the information in it.’
I winced. ‘Anything more specific? I’ve been disturbing on many levels.’
‘I suspect he is specifically interested in what you know about Roman.’
I dragged a hand through some loose curls and tried to tuck them back into my braid. ‘I guess I’ll just have to charm him, right?’
Fowler reached over to touch my leg, as if imploring my complete attention. ‘You have to convince him you are harmless. Do you understand how important that is? If he sees you as a threat, then all that you love will be under threat as well.’
‘All that I love have been under threat before,’ I said, voice rock-hard. ‘I protected them then and I’ll protect them again.’
Fowler sat back, still looking troubled. ‘I fear this time, it is different. The Order here in Harken is considered quite progressive. Laeonder is from the heartland of the faith and his beliefs are grounded in the old ways. That all might for the One True God is justified.’
I held my tongue, knowing nothing I said would reassure Fowler. I knew the mother chapter of the Order of Guides was set in Thesma, and that the Order’s strength was founded on the Church of the Higher Path, a powerful religion with influence across The Weald. Most of the stories I’d heard of the Order in Thesma were of brutal slaughter, oppression of the population and other such nasties. I hoped the High Grigori were a little more enlightened now. I just needed to get through this meeting.
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