Shimmer: The Rephaim Book 3

by Paula Weston

‘Who’s Louise?’

  ‘Virginia’s other daughter—Sophie’s mother. They’d never locked the room before. They weren’t intending to use it anytime soon.’

  ‘But they had a panic button and a silent alarm.’

  ‘Not specifically for the room. That iron trap is a prototype. They didn’t even know if it would work.’

  ‘Sophie was in a hell of a hurry to trap Rafa and me in a room that may or may not have worked.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ Mya waves away my doubt. ‘Debra told me where the keypad’s hidden and the type of electronic lock—I can get around it, but I need cover for the time it takes to cut the wires.’

  Jude raises his eyebrows at me.

  ‘She’s good,’ I concede, remembering her quick work at the nightclub in LA. ‘How did you get Debra to talk?’

  ‘I threatened to bring her here.’

  Jude rolls his shoulders. Mine are tight again too. I think about Sophie. How long did Zarael keep her and her mother alive to learn the secrets of the iron room? What else did they find out?

  ‘Did she tell you anything about the trap itself?’ Ez asks. ‘Anything about Rephaite blood being used to create the ward?’

  Mya scowls. ‘Rephaite blood? Who said that?’

  ‘Nathaniel.’

  ‘Nathaniel thinks one of us is involved with them? Who?’

  ‘It might not be anyone—who knows what they used to make the room work. Once we crack the door it won’t matter. The ward will be broken and Taya and Rafa can shift straight out. And then we’ll let these guys loose.’ I gesture at Mick and the rocket launcher.

  Mick nods, all business.

  ‘Let’s do this,’ Zak says. ‘We’ll need teams outside the house to create a distraction, a team to protect Mya while she gets the door open, and at least two of us to go in and get Rafa and Taya.’

  ‘I’m going in the room,’ Malachi says.

  Adrenaline fires through me. ‘Me too.’

  ‘No way,’ Jude says. ‘What if they can’t shift on their own? How are you going to get Rafa out of there?’

  ‘Malachi or Mya can help. What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’ll help these guys.’ He gestures to Ez, Zak and Jones.

  ‘You’re going to fight Gatekeepers? You think that’s safer than going in the iron room?’

  ‘No, but at least I’ll have your back. His eyes are bright, his fingers already flexing. He’s feeling the adrenaline too.

  I’ve fought Gatekeepers twice. Come off second best twice. Jude’s never fought them—not outside of his dreams, anyway. But he doesn’t care, he trusts his body. Trusts that he can do all the things Rafa’s told him he can do. Right now I need to find that place too. A nest of Gatekeepers and hellions is no place for doubt and second-guesses.

  ‘We’ll need at least one of us to keep an eye on these guys.’ Zak points to Mick and Rusty. ‘Just in case they get trigger happy and think it might be fun to blow the place while we’re still in it.’

  Mick gives Zak a dirty look, but it’s quite clear the thought has crossed his mind. Seth volunteers. He goes over to the Butlers, stands head and shoulders over them. Rusty looks nervous; Mick ignores him.

  Zak sorts the rest of the Outcasts into teams and then calls us all in together. He arranges barbells and weights on the mat to create a map of the farm.

  ‘We’ll shift into the corn, get our bearings.’ He stabs at a spot on the mat outside the barbells. ‘Then we’ll shift into the clearing, draw as many demons away from the house as we can. We’re going to be seriously outnumbered, so don’t think twice about shifting to stay safe.’ He looks around the group. ‘I mean it. There’s no shame in keeping your head on your shoulders.’

  It’s a point of pride with the Rephaim—even the Outcasts—not to shift in the middle of a fight. I’d put money on the Gatekeepers not having a similar code of honour.

  ‘As soon as Rafa and Taya are safe, we’ll clear out of the farmhouse. I’ll give the sign and our friends here can bring the place down. We need to be well away by then.’

  ‘The usual signal?’ someone asks.

  ‘Yes.’

  I don’t know what the usual signal is, but I don’t need to. When Zak gives it, I’ll be long gone from the farmhouse. We take a moment to absorb the weight of what we’re about to do, the danger of it. My body burns with the need to get moving, to get this done. To get Rafa back. My stomach drops.

  ‘Please tell me you’re not going to that farmhouse.’ It’s Daisy. She and Micah have shifted into the gym.

  I break away from the group. ‘We’ve got enough information to do what we need to.’

  ‘You can’t go now. Nathaniel’s only just heard that Dani saw into the room and knows they’re both badly injured. You need to give him time—’

  ‘We don’t have time, you know that.’

  ‘Then tell him what you’re planning. Maybe he’ll send some of us with you.’

  ‘Come on, Daisy,’ Ez says. ‘You know that’s not how it works. You heard what Dani said. Rafa and Taya are a mess and Bel will keep using sharp objects on them until we either hand over Jude and Gabe or take them on.’

  ‘So you’re taking Jude and Gabe right into their trap? This is exactly what Zarael wants—a reckless renegade group to charge in outnumbered.’ She spots Malachi beside Zak. ‘God, Mal, tell me you’re not serious. You want to end up roaming the globe with this lot? And you—’ She turns back to me. ‘You do this, and there’s no doubt which side you’re on.’

  ‘I don’t give a shit what side anyone thinks I’m on as long as Rafa and Taya are alive and safe.’

  Daisy’s scorching gaze scans the crowd until she finds Mya. ‘How do you know that what she’s told you is true?’

  ‘Why would she lie?’

  ‘It’s Mya! You’ve never trusted her. You didn’t trust her enough to follow her out of here a decade ago; why would you trust her now?’

  ‘Because she’s risking her life too.’

  Micah steps between us. ‘Gabe, I get why you’re doing this. But Daisy’s right: this is exactly what Zarael’s been playing for. The visit here, the severed finger, this is all to draw the Outcasts into a fight and fragment the Rephaim.’

  ‘You sound like Daniel.’

  He frowns at me, annoyed. ‘He’s not always wrong.’

  ‘Ah fuck,’ Jude says behind me, and I turn to see Daniel standing on the other side of the boxing ring.

  ‘How long have you been there?’ I ask.

  ‘Long enough.’ He looks tired, drained, and totally pissed off. ‘We just got everyone settled down after that debacle in the piazza, and you want to tear it all apart again?’

  ‘This isn’t an exclusive outing; anyone who wants can join,’ I say. ‘And I’m not tearing anyone apart—Nathaniel is, with his excuses about the Garrison. You knew this was coming.’

  ‘Not this quick. Think.’ Daniel’s trademark control has dipped below the waterline. ‘You need a full-strength army. That’s the only hope of successfully taking that farmhouse, not whatever you’ve got planned.’ His eyes snag on the Butlers. ‘You’re taking humans along? You’re determined to get them eaten, aren’t you? And I don’t even want to know what that’s for.’ He gestures to the rocket launcher. ‘But it better not be for what I think because Nathaniel needs to inspect that room.’

  ‘We have to have control of it first,’ Jude says.

  Daniel’s lips press into a thin line. ‘You ripped this place in half once before, Jude. It doesn’t surprise me you’d do it again, but don’t drag your sister down with you.’

  Jude steps up to Daniel, gets in his face. ‘My sister and I don’t answer to you or anyone else. And if you cared about her at all, she wouldn’t have that hellion scar on her neck. So back the fuck off.’

  Daniel’s nostrils twitch. He looks across at Malachi. ‘Step away.’

  ‘I don’t want to defy you, but you give me no choice if you order me to stay.’

  �
�This isn’t a discussion.’

  ‘Give him permission,’ Micah says, urgent. ‘Send him to spy on them, who cares what you call it.’

  Zak pulls a katana out of his weapons bag. ‘This conversation is going nowhere. We’ve got places to be. Jude?’

  Jude takes out his phone and makes a call, not taking his eyes from Daniel. ‘Has she—’ He stops, listens, nods. ‘Yep. Yep. Okay.’ He hangs up.

  ‘Dani says Rafa and Taya are alone right now.’

  ‘Let’s go.’

  The Outcasts fall into formation and Jude and I find a place between Ez and Zak. I take one last look at Daniel. He’s pensive, watching me, wrestling with the situation.

  ‘Malachi,’ he says as I reach for Ez. ‘Be my eyes and ears.’

  ON THE WINGS OF AN ANGEL

  The sun hasn’t been up long over the cornfield. The air is still and frigid, cold enough for snow. I shiver in my jacket, my breath misting between the papery leaves of dead corn.

  We don’t have long. There are demons keeping watch from the farmhouse roof. If we stay here for more than a few seconds, they’ll see our collective breath rising from the plants.

  Zak leads us along the cornrow, gives Jude and the others a chance to see the house and the clearing, get their bearings. The house was always eerie, but it looks sinister in the early morning light—the gleaming super-sized shipping container jutting from the side of the hill perched on a concrete base. At least a dozen Gatekeepers are on the roof, prowling back and forth.

  Rafa is in there. Hurt, bleeding. Ready to die. My heart leaps into my throat, beats so hard I think I might never swallow again. Jude touches my arm.

  ‘Ready?’ The pulse in his neck keeps time with my own. I nod.

  Mick and Rusty kneel down in the corn. Rusty quietly slides the first rocket from the bag, ready to load. Seth positions himself behind them, nods that he’s got the brothers covered.

  Ez and Zak reach for Jude and me; Zak checks with Mya and then signals to the other Outcasts. They’re coiled, ready to shift into the open: more than a dozen of them taking on a horde of Gatekeepers and hellions to buy us time. I have a second to see them ready themselves—resolute, weapons raised—before the ground drops out beneath me in a rush.

  We arrive upstairs outside the iron room. My head swims from the shift, and blood pounds in my ears. I brace for attack, scan the room for threats, but the place is empty. The pot-belly stove by the wall is black, lifeless. The couches we sat on only a few nights ago are overturned like discarded toys, a lampshade smashed across the scuffed timber floor. From our place at the back of the room, all I can see through the floor-to-ceiling glass is cold blue sky.

  Sounds of shouting and ringing steel carry up from outside. It’s started.

  Mya races to the wall near the stairs. She pushes aside a painting of cheery yellow flowers smeared with blood. A keypad is recessed into the plasterboard behind it. She swaps her sword for pliers. The others fan out in front of her, ready for attack. Malachi and I take up positions in front of the iron door. It’s been beaten back into shape; enough at least for a tight seal. Mya pulls the cover from the keypad, yanks out wires. The seconds pass slowly.

  Three loud beeps and something clicks. The door grinds open behind us. I turn, rush in—

  My heart stops.

  I can’t feel my legs.

  Rafa.

  Blood everywhere.

  Rafa.

  He’s slumped on the floor against the filing cabinet, chin on his chest. T-shirt soaked crimson, knuckles raw. The left side of his face is so swollen I can’t see his eye. Hair matted.

  My legs give out. My knees hit the timber with a jolt; the katana clatters to the floor. A movement to my right. Malachi is bent over Taya. I’m assuming it’s her: it’s hard to tell from here. She’s propped against the wall, the etched angel wings stretching out either side of her. One hand wrapped around the other. Unconscious.

  Malachi scoops her up and they’re gone before he’s straightened. In the void, I vaguely register that the plasterboard has been ripped from the room and all the photos of the Rephaim are gone. All that’s left are giant wings on all four walls.

  A groan.

  Rafa.

  I crawl over to him. I have no words for this moment. I push his hair back from his forehead, wipe blood from his good eye as gently as I can with my thumb. I need to get him out of here. I look around for someone, anyone. There’s shouting outside the room now, sounds of fighting. I have a stab of fear for Jude, which shifts to panic: Malachi is gone and everyone else is creating a distraction. It’s up to me to get Rafa out of here.

  But I can barely shift on my own. How the hell can I do it with someone else?

  I bite down on my lip, try to concentrate.

  ‘Gaby?’ Rafa’s voice is raw, scratchy. He opens his good eye, tries to focus on me. ‘Ah fuck, no.’ He reaches for me, grimaces. Has to shut his eye to deal with the pain.

  ‘Rafa, how do I—’

  But he’s out again.

  What do I do? Where can I touch that won’t hurt him? I’m running out of time. I suck in my breath and hook his arm over my shoulder. He leans into me. My head reels from the smell of sweat and fear.

  I can do this.

  I try to reconstruct the infirmary in my mind: the fluorescent lights, the tang of disinfectant, the squeaky lino floor.

  Before I can get it set in my mind, the iron door thuds shut.

  BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

  The walls press in, black spots bleed together. My heart thunders now, reckless with panic.

  I couldn’t save Rafa. And now we’re both trapped. And Jude’s out there fighting Gatekeepers and possibly hellions. Daniel was right: this is what Zarael planned all along. We should have waited. We should have listened. We should have—

  I finally draw breath before my lungs collapse. The blackness dissolves but my head keeps pounding. I unwrap myself from Rafa. I have to protect him. I crawl over to my sword, hold it out in front of me as I inch my way back to him. My hands are shaking. Shit. How could I be so stupid? Jude will be beside himself. Why didn’t we just wait? Why—

  Mya materialises inside the room.

  I blink twice. ‘How did you—?’

  ‘Shut up.’ She paces the room, strangling her katana. Her steps are urgent, panicked. ‘I don’t…I can’t…’ She stops, shuts her eyes and steadies herself. Then she opens them, lifts her palm and calmly slices it open.

  ‘What the fuck?’

  ‘I need blood.’

  My mind scrambles for traction. Blood. Rephaite blood. That’s what Nathaniel said created the ward. Does that mean it can break it?

  ‘There’s enough in here without you mutilating yourself.’ It comes out raspy.

  She ignores me, squeezing her hand into a fist until blood drips out onto the floor. She walks over to the nearest corner, stands on her toes and smears her palm over the tip of the wing. Then she does the same on the next corner.

  ‘Did Debra tell you to do that?’

  She heads for the third corner without answering.

  I’m about to ask again when my view of her is blocked by a towering figure in a trench coat. Long white hair. Flickering orange eyes. I have a second to register the sword flashing down before I dive sideways and bring my blade up to protect my face.

  ‘Gabriella.’

  Bel.

  I roll to my feet, block another blow—jarring—then another. I get my balance, back away, feel that familiar rush of whatever it is that makes me Rephaim. I try not to look for Mya. He doesn’t know she’s in here. How could he? No Rephaite should be able to shift into this room. But she’s gone already.

  Bel swings again, and again I block him. ‘Zarael has given me a few moments with you,’ he says, grinning. ‘Let’s not waste them.’ He aims his next strike for my head and I manage to block it and move back, try to keep my bearings. Look for—

  Thunk.

  I back into the wall. I try to duck sideways
but Bel slams me against the solid iron, his hand around my throat. His blade is on mine, pressed against my chest. It’s like LA all over again, when he had me pinned outside the nightclub, but this time I don’t have a knife tucked in my jeans. His eyes flare burnt orange under the insipid fluorescent lights.

  ‘Rafael will watch you beg for mercy. And then you can watch me take his head and give it to my hellion to pick clean.’ His breath is hot, rotting. He’s close enough that I can see puckered skin around the bullet scars on his forehead. ‘And then I shall peel your flesh from your bones until you remember what happened with the Fallen last year.’

  Where is Mya? Why isn’t she helping?

  Rafa is on the floor bleeding. Jude is outside fighting god knows how many demons. The Outcasts are outnumbered. I’m trapped in here with Bel. Me. Not backpacker Gaby and not Gabe, the Rephaim’s best fighter: someone in between.

  I push against Bel. He leans in harder.

  Nobody’s coming to save me. Another surge of adrenaline washes through me, clears my mind. Fires my limbs. I am Rephaite: I’m stronger than this. My whole body hums and I shove Bel as hard as I can.

  His weight is immediately gone and it takes me a second to realise I’ve launched him about three metres away. I rush him while he’s still off-balance. He blocks my strike, grunts with the effort. I’m quicker now; it’s taken him by surprise.

  ‘There is no happy ending for any of you,’ he says, slightly breathless between strikes and blocks. I ignore him, looking for an opening to do serious damage. My boots slide around on the slick floor but I refuse to look down.

  ‘The Garrison doesn’t want you.’

  Swing, block.

  ‘The Fallen don’t care about you.’

  Another swing, block.

  ‘Even the humans who built this room want to kill you. Why do you all keep—’ I kick out his knee and risk a quick look at Rafa. I can’t tell if he’s conscious again or not. It costs me my fleeting advantage because Bel is already up again. It takes everything I have to defend the onslaught of blows that follows. I keep moving, keep breathing. Bel keeps talking between breaths.

  ‘One way or another…you’re going to end up…in hell with your fathers. You think I can hurt you here? You have no idea…what I can do to you down—’ He howls and drops to his knees.