Chaos Broken

by Rebekah Turner

  ‘Lora.’ He patted the seat next to him. ‘Sit down. I’ve already made some notes and wanted to run them by you.’

  I sat, leaning my cane beside me. ‘Shoot.’

  He shuffled through his pages. ‘This is just cobbled together from information I’ve gathered so far.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ I asked. ‘Where from? It’s probably not true.’

  Roosen smiled. ‘That’s not really important, is it?’

  ‘Depends on what lie we’re going to run with.’

  ‘This isn’t lying.’ Roosen made a gesture with his ink-stained hands. ‘This is theatre.’

  ‘Okay, Mister Theatre, lay it on me.’

  Roosen’s voice dropped, taking on a sing-song lull. ‘The plays are about a woman with a destiny that hangs around her neck like a noose.’

  ‘Wait, wait.’ I held my hands up, stopping him. ‘What do you know about that?’

  Roosen flicked through a few pages, before stopping and squinting at one. ‘The prophecy of the Dreadwitch and Howling King, yes? That’s what some people have connected you to?’

  My throat felt very dry and the panic that had descended the first time we’d talked came back, tightening my chest. ‘I…ah…’

  Roosen closed the book. ‘Let’s take a step back. Let’s look at your situation.’

  I licked my lips. ‘Sure. Let’s do that. What if you wrote a play about a woman struggling against a society for equal rights?’

  Roosen chuckled. ‘And who would pay to go see that? We’d lose half our audience straight. No man would want to be lectured to about women’s rights.’

  I winced. ‘I think my brain just exploded with indignation.’

  ‘I’m not saying we can’t touch on important and relevant issues,’ Roosen said. ‘But we have to be more subversive than that. People don’t want to be preached to, they want to be entertained. We’ll have our morality story, but first, we need some sensation.’ His eyes were shining in a way made me nervous.

  ‘What do you need from me?’ I asked.

  ‘Tell me about yourself. As I said, I’ve got notes. But all tall tales. Rumour. Gossip.’

  ‘What kind of gossip?’

  Roosen glanced down. ‘One of the more outrageous ones is that the Defiler tried to cast you out of the realm.’

  ‘That’s a dirty lie. It was just a warning.’

  ‘You must have done something huge to get his attention.’

  ‘He just wanted me to behave.’

  Roosen’s pen quivered above a fresh page. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Ahhh…well, it’s kind of hard to know where to start,’ I hedged. The first time I’d met the Defiler, it had been when a furious Craft Aldermen had summoned him to drag me back to their council chambers and answer some uncomfortable questions. The second time I’d met him, it had been soon after the battle with a hellspawn in Avalon Square. I’d been using magic and had been bleeding all over the place. My blood had somehow ignited with the magics and from it, a dark power had beckoned me: chaos magic. The Defiler had called me an abomination, had claimed that if I embraced chaos magic, I would be struck down. Not that I needed that motivation The dark power had beckoned me from a deep abyss, one that if I knew if I fell into, I would never resurface.

  Roosen rested the pen in the book and closed it. ‘You can trust me, Lora. What I want to do is hear the story through the prism of your voice. I want to get a feel for who Lora Blackgoat is.’ He rolled his hands. ‘Then we’ll make you bigger. Better. Faster. Stronger. Someone to inspire awe. A heroine of the city.’

  ‘Hero,’ I murmured absently. My eyes roamed the theatre, taking in the bustling activity. Nicola was talking to a group of carpenters about a particular piece of machinery, material samples in one hand. I realised I considered her a friend, just like Crowhurst. Almost family, really. People who were relying on me. I hadn’t forgotten the bag of money collected by those who trusted me to keep their jobs.

  So I took a deep breath and began.

  Chapter 25

  Around noon, my throat was sore and I was ready for a serious lie down. Someone bought in sandwiches and Roosen and I agreed to break for the day. I was disturbed by the amount of information he had on me, albeit mostly embellishments, half-truths and a few outright lies. It sounded like a mess to me, but Roosen was becoming more convinced he had a story he could craft, along with a moderately disturbing twinkle in his eye.

  ‘How’s it going?’ Crowhurst asked. He’d appeared soon after the sandwiches and was stuffing a roast beef on rye into his mouth.

  ‘Good, I think.’ I snagged a salami and tomato. ‘I’ve just been talking about some jobs I’ve done since I became a Runner.’

  ‘Be careful about what secrets you tell.’ Crowhurst shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘You think I was born yesterday?’

  ‘Lora.’ Nicola approached, Tarn cuddled in her arms. ‘Roosen looks delighted with what you’re giving him.’

  ‘That’s great,’ I said. ‘How’s your impersonation of me going?’

  ‘Great.’ She beamed. ‘It’s quite simple really. You just have to believe your own lie, you know?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘It’s all about the eyes. You’ve got to be able to look at a person in the eye and convince them you believe.’ She offered baby Tarn my way. ‘Here?’

  ‘None for me.’ I waved my hands about.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Lora,’ Crowhurst said. ‘Just take the baby.’

  Nicola took Crowhurst’s words as assent on my behalf and shoved the child into my arms. Realising she was going to let go, I grabbed the baby’s waist and held it out from me.

  ‘Don’t hold him like that,’ Nicola chided. ‘Give him a cuddle.’

  Tucking baby Tarn against me, I tried to rock him.

  ‘Nice and gentle.’ Nicola coached.

  ‘Remember, they can smell your fear,’ Crowhurst added.

  Eyes dropping to the baby, I searched inside myself for some sort of maternal thread that would tell me how to act. The baby stared back at me with its big eyes and for a moment it was like a staring contest. I narrowed my eyes. No way was I losing to a baby.

  ‘Look at the two of you,’ Nicola cooed. ‘So sweet.’

  The baby hiccupped.

  ‘He’s got wind,’ Crowhurst said. ‘Pat his back.’

  ‘Put him over your shoulder first,’ Nicola added.

  ‘Be careful of the neck.’

  ‘Don’t jolt him too hard.’

  The baby secured on my shoulder, I tapped his back and was rewarded with a warm sensation down my back.

  ‘Will you look at that, he’s done a little sick,’ Nicola cooed.

  I quickly passed him back to her. ‘I think that’s enough for today.’

  Nicola tucked the baby against her hip, wiping his mouth with a cloth she had produced from a pocket. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’

  ‘Guess not.’ I wiped my sweaty palms against the side of my trousers.

  ‘She was talking to the baby,’ Crowhurst told me.

  ‘He’s a cute kid.’ I gave her a smile. ‘But my life is more about hexing and drinking, you know?’

  Nicola’s eyes glistened bright and she passed me the cloth. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Kianna’s tits,’ I said as I tried my best to wipe the sick off my back. ‘Don’t feel bad for me. I’m exactly the person I need to be.’

  ‘Of course,’ she murmured. ‘And I thought my upbringing was hard.’

  Though Nicola had been raised by a violent man, from what I could tell he had treated her with considerable kindness and showered her with gifts. But I didn’t think it would win me any points if I suggested a shoe closet and pet ponies weren’t exactly a hard way to be raised, so I held my tongue. Plus, losing her husband and finding out how evil her father was would be enough to break most people, but here she was, creating a life and business for herself. Not to mention saving my financial
hide again.

  A sly look entered Nicola’s eyes and she passed Crowhurst her baby. ‘Come with me, Lora. I think it’s time you saw something.’

  ‘Eh?’ Crowhurst took baby Tarn. ‘Why am I the babysitter?’

  ‘He’s your nephew,’ Nicola said. ‘And it’s about time you started pulling your weight.’

  I gave Crowhurst a thumbs up, then followed Nicola as she strode behind the stage area and up a staircase to the second floor.

  ‘I don’t know if I properly thanked you for this job,’ I told Nicola.

  ‘We’re helping each other, aren’t we?’ she replied. ‘Besides, I owe you, for everything you’ve done for me.’

  ‘Ah, right.’ I cleared my throat. If I was going to ask Nicola for more advance on my fees, then now was the time.

  But Nicola was moving fast and I was having trouble keeping my breath. By the time we’d reached the top, my lungs were burning and my lame leg trembled. We crossed a small dusty room and my curiosity grew. Perhaps a view of the city? Old theatre costumes? Priceless art antiques discovered in a dusty closet?

  Nicola pushed a part of the wall, and it swung open to reveal a room that was clean and well lit. A nephilim filled the opening, arms crossed. When he spied Nicola, he quickly shifted aside and we entered the room. Windows were covered in heavy drapes and the room furnishings looked like they’d been borrowed from the theatre: all exaggerated lines and plush red velvet.

  Casper sat at a table with two other nephilim, eating a pastry and reading a street-press paper, while other nephilim milled about, talking quietly. My eyes skipped over them, roaming the room until I found Roman. He stood by a boarded-up window and was arguing with another nephilim. I realised with a start it was Locan, the Regulator who kept calling me Kitty. They both glanced my way before Locan asked Roman a question, distracting him.

  ‘Manika and I thought this would be the best place for Roman to hide with his men,’ Nicola said softly.

  ‘How long have they been here?’ I asked.

  ‘They’ve been trickling in over the past few days.’ Nicola gave me an apologetic look. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier, Lora. It wasn’t my secret to tell.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ I murmured, feeling a little put out that Roman hadn’t mentioned anything.

  Nicola patted my shoulder as she headed for the exit. ‘I’ll tell Crowhurst not to wait around for you.’

  Then she was gone, leaving me staring at Roman and wondering why he hadn’t told me he was here.

  Casper strolled over, wiping pastry crumbs from his front. ‘He should be finished in a minute.’

  ‘Sure.’ I shrugged. ‘Whatever.’

  ‘Heard the latest about your old boyfriend?’ Casper asked.

  ‘You mean Seth?’ I asked. ‘I know your Wizard’s living in a fancy mansion in High Town. I checked it out.’

  ‘Suitable digs for someone petitioning for the role of City Treasurer,’ Casper said lightly.

  My eyes widened. ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘Got it through reliable sources. He’s quite the up and comer.’

  ‘But he’s the leader of the Reaper Street Gang,’ I said. ‘How could the Council of Ten overlook something like that?’

  ‘There are no official ties between him and the Reapers,’ Casper pointed out.

  ‘He keeps the company of Reapers, for one,’ I pointed out. ‘He has the Reaper tattoo on his forearm, for another.’

  ‘That means nothing on paper. Especially when you have enough money to back you. Harken is a trade city, after all.’ Casper tapped his nose. ‘And a trade city means coin is king.’

  ‘I won’t argue with that,’ I said. ‘I don’t suppose you know anything about the High Grigori who’s come to Harken?’

  Casper’s face turned grim. ‘High Grigori are all the same. Like a regular Grigori, only a shade more evil.’

  ‘Is he the reason why you and Roman are still here?’ I asked. ‘High Grigori Laeonder is dangerous. I’ve met him, he’s got the crazy shine of a true believer.’

  ‘You should ask the big man why we’re still here,’ Casper replied. ‘He won’t leave. Neither will Gorath. That guy just keeps turning up like a bad smell. I still don’t trust him. You don’t just stop wanting power, even if the Wizard did wave his magic wand for a peace deal.’

  ‘I don’t think the Wizard of Oz had a wand,’ I murmured. ‘Wasn’t it more he was a fraud?’

  ‘Semantics,’ Casper said with a dismissive wave. ‘He got shit done, regardless. Even with no real power, that’s what made him the most dangerous man in the room.’

  Roman escorted Locan to the door and they clasped hands, then Locan was gone. Roman turned and walked over. ‘Hello, Lora.’

  ‘Hello, yourself,’ I replied. ‘So this is where you’ve been hiding out.’

  ‘Nicola has been very generous.’ Roman rubbed his jaw, suddenly looking awkward. ‘Lora, I’m sorry about the other night.’

  Casper winced and stuck his fingers in his ears. ‘If this is a lovers’ quarrel, I don’t want to hear it. Why don’t you two crazy kids go to the roof where you can have some privacy?’

  ‘A very sensible idea.’ Roman crooked an arm my way. ‘My Lady, will you accompany me?’

  Feeling absurdly pleased, I took his arm. ‘Of course, kind sir.’

  Chapter 26

  The roof of the theatre hosted a large conservatory, full of greenery and split cane furniture. Rain splattered against the glass roof and the afternoon air had a brisk bite to it. Letting go of Roman’s arm, I approached one wall, my cane clicking against the stone floor. I stared out over the vista of the city, my breath fogging the glass. Most of the buildings were covered in a grey, hazy drizzle, and beyond them I could almost catch a peek of the Pearl Ocean. I thought of Gideon and Orella, in a land far from Harken. Far from me. I’d never travelled far within The Weald, myself. I was a Harken girl and life on the streets of Applecross was adventure enough. Instead, my interests had always lain in the Outlands, the homeland of my birth mother.

  ‘How is your hand?’ Roman came up behind me.

  I turned. ‘Healing fast, thanks to your Bishop’s Balm.’

  He took my hand, examined the healing cut. His nose wrinkled. ‘What is that smell?’

  I sighed. ‘Baby sick.’

  ‘Mmmm.’ Roman kept his eyes locked on my hand. ‘You do make it rather hard for someone to want to kiss you, smelling so strange all the time.’

  My eyebrows lifted. ‘You want to kiss me?’

  He leant forward to brush his lips against mine. I opened my mouth with a small sigh and the kiss turned deep. Then he pulled back, brushing his lips against the palm of my hand.

  ‘I hate that you live with such danger in your life,’ he said. ‘And I am afraid that I bring even more to your doorstop.’

  ‘And I hate that I did this to you.’ The words rushed from my mouth, honest and raw, and my eyes glanced at his wings, guilt pulsing through me.

  Roman frowned. ‘Did what —’ Then realisation flooded his face. He grabbed my other hand and pressed them both against his chest. ‘What I am today, what I’ve become, it wasn’t your fault. It was not your doing. Someone else orchestrated the events. Don’t you forget that.’

  ‘Sure, okay,’ I said, and I knew I sounded unconvinced. Guess Nicola’s little lesson about believing your own lies hadn’t quite rubbed off.

  ‘Lora, without you I would have remained a blind man.’ He wrapped his arms around me. ‘Without you, I would never have been free of the Grigori.’

  I pushed away from him and he let go quicker than I would have liked.

  ‘There’s a High Grigori in the city,’ I said. ‘He thinks that the nephilim are starting to question the authority of the Order. That you’re bringing about unrest.’

  Roman blew out a long breath. ‘My nephilim brothers deserve freedom, Lora.’

  ‘Does Fowler think that as well?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Roman turne
d and walked further in the conservatory. ‘But when he saw me, he understood things were changing.’

  ‘How so?’ I asked, following him. ‘This…change only happened to you.’

  Roman stopped by a small wooden bench set among some ferns and sat down, silky white feathers ruffling out before settling in place again. ‘My wings could be seen as an indication the Grigori have always spoken the truth about our celestial heritage. But I am now a symbol of the nephilim’s desire for freedom. What we could be outside of the Order.’

  I moved towards him, watching his expression closely. Roman appeared to be in the mood to finally share his secrets, even if I was unsure I wanted to hear them.

  ‘I want to change the destiny of the nephilim.’ Roman pulled me towards him. ‘I want to give my brothers freedom. Unchecked rumours are rotting the nephilim from within. Causing unrest.’ His wings shifted behind him, as if impatient to stretch out. ‘The Grigori may not realise it yet, but they need me. I have my terms and they will hear me out.’ His dark eyes studied me. ‘You know, I’ve missed you.’

  ‘I’ve missed you as well,’ I admitted.

  ‘And I’m sorry about how I behaved last time we were together.’

  ‘I think I understand.’ I lifted a hand to stroke the side of his face, feeling rough stubble. ‘I hope you believe me when I tell you I have no feelings for Seth.’

  ‘I believe you.’ Roman’s hands squeezed my legs and his wings shifted with a rustling sound.

  ‘Have you tried to fly with those bad boys?’ I nodded at them.

  ‘In secure areas.’ Roman stood and walked to where a winch was mounted on a pole and cranked the handle. Overhead, a skylight opened with a rusty whine and I craned my neck to look up at the open sky, seeing nothing but oppressive grey rain clouds.

  Roman secured the winch, then wrapped his arms around me. His wings shot out, causing the plants around us to sway violently. ‘Would you like me to give you a little ride?’

  ‘Are you insane?’ I pulled away from him, hands raised. ‘Firstly, you’d be spotted. Secondly, I hate heights. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than flying. Except riding a horse.’