by Paula Weston
Daniel glances at me, barely meeting my eyes. ‘We’ll finish this later.’ He leaves without looking at Jude.
‘How’s Rafa?’ Micah asks. ‘Jones says he’s not healing?’
I walk to the edge of the cloister and let Jude give him the update. The afternoon is darkening, the clouds lower now. I scan the shadows across the piazza, try not to think about Rafa lying a few metres way, his life—his immortal life—leaking away.
Something moves in the other cloister. Someone. Shuffling towards the bronze doors into Nathaniel’s private garden. Why the secrecy? They’re closer now, robes whispering on the pavers. A monk, then. I slip behind a column and peer through the gloom.
It’s Brother Stephen, cradling his arm. Something quivers in my stomach. Why is he so cautious about going into Nathaniel’s compound?
I click my fingers to get Jude’s attention. Hold my finger to my lips.
‘What?’ he mouths.
I point to Nathaniel’s quarters as the door closes behind the monk. I set off after him and Jude and Micah catch me in a couple of steps. ‘What are you doing?’ Micah whispers.
‘Brother Stephen just snuck through those doors.’
‘It can’t be him: he’s in bed with a broken arm. And he wouldn’t be sneaking.’ We reach the lion and the lambs and I put my hand on the bronze latch. ‘Gabe, no.’
‘You don’t have to come, Micah.’
He follows Jude and me inside.
It’s darker in the passage now. Like last time, we pause at the entrance to the garden and stick our heads out for a quick look.
‘What the—’
Micah doesn’t finish his sentence. He’s too busy staring at Brother Stephen in the middle of the garden, hugging Virginia.
OUT IN THE OPEN
Virginia gasps at Micah’s voice. The monk’s eyes fly open. He lets her go and his good arm hangs in the air for a moment, trembling. I think how old he looks, his skin thin and papery, marked with liver spots. He and Virginia stand beside a wrought-iron table under a garden umbrella, in a sea of mint and tomato bushes. His right arm is wrapped tight in a sling across his chest.
Micah heads straight for them. Jude and I stick to the cover of the blueberry bushes. I’m trying to make sense of it: the monk and the matriarch of Iowa, embracing. The drizzle soaks through my hoodie.
‘What are you doing?’ Micah demands.
The monk’s chin quivers. His face is ashen. ‘Micah…’ Brother Stephen can’t hold his gaze. He barely resembles the monk who faced down Zarael in the car park.
‘Leave him be.’ Virginia’s voice is rough, her face pinched and tired. The fight is draining from her. Unravelling her. She’s still dressed in her tailored black suit but all traces of make-up are gone and her grey bob is no longer neat. Wisps of hair float around her face. Something’s happened since we saw her through the window a few hours ago. Her blue eyes flick to Brother Stephen. She’s afraid—for him.
‘Brother, do you know her?’ Micah asks.
Silence.
‘Do. You. Know. This woman.’ I’ve never seen Micah this angry. It changes his features, sharpens them.
‘Yes.’
There’s a long moment while we absorb this piece of information. Holy shit…
The monk reaches a gnarled hand for one of the wrought-iron chairs. He drags it out from under the table and Virginia holds his good arm so he can lower himself onto it. I slide into an empty chair opposite them. Jude comes in under the umbrella but Micah stays out in the rain.
‘How long?’ Micah is stunned. Devastated. ‘How long have you been working against us?’
Brother Stephen’s good hand grips the edge of the table, his knuckles bloodless. Scraps of information fall around me like confetti, start to take form.
‘The blueprints, the photos…that was you?’
His lips tremble. ‘Please, no.’ Pale eyes meet mine.
‘Stephen…’ Virginia warns.
‘How do you know Virginia?’
A long pause. ‘She is my niece.’
I blink. That can’t possibly be right.
‘I am a member of the prophetic family.’
Virginia grabs his wrist.
I’m still stuck on the first bit. A monk at the Sanctuary is related to the people who built that iron room. The people who hate us.
‘You mean the family who believes that if the Rephaim find the Fallen, we’ll release them, and Semyaza and the Two Hundred will make war on heaven?’
He nods, weary. ‘Yes, Gabriella, but that is not the entire prophecy.’
Virginia digs her fingers into his papery flesh. ‘You have taken a blood oath.’
‘And I have lived with Nathaniel and the offspring for sixty-five years. As I have told you many times, they are not all as you believe.’
‘Sacrilege.’ She clutches at him. ‘How can you betray us in our darkest hour?’
‘Our time has passed, Virginia. It may be that our role is complete—’
‘It will never be complete while these abominations walk the earth.’
‘Ease up, lady,’ Jude says. He taps his knuckles on the table in front of Brother Stephen to get his attention. ‘Keep going.’
Brother Stephen fumbles inside his robe and pulls out a thin chain with a crucifix. He closes his eyes and holds it against his forehead for a moment, murmurs a prayer only he can hear. And then he opens his eyes, kisses the crucifix and drops it back under his robe. He’s shaking. Cold or fear? The monk draws a shallow breath, keeps his eyes on the twisted iron under his fingers.
‘The first revelation was that the Fallen were trapped in another realm after they escaped from hell and again lay down with human women.’
‘That’s not news: it’s the Sanctuary’s number one theory,’ I say.
‘How?’ Jude asks. ‘Who trapped them?’
‘We do not know. But what our ancestor was shown—what Nathaniel does not know—is what is required to free the Fallen. Or at least, what must occur before the Fallen can be freed.’
‘Stephen, if you do this—’
‘Let him speak.’ Micah glares at her. Virginia sits back in her chair.
‘The Fallen can only be released by their bastard offspring, and only if the Rephaim are united in the cause to do so.’
Virginia sags. ‘God save us all.’
It takes a second for me to understand the significance of his words. ‘But…that means Jude and I couldn’t have released them last year.’ A tiny flare of hope. ‘Maybe it’s not as bad as we think.’
‘Maybe,’ Jude says. ‘That doesn’t mean we didn’t try.’
Oh.
‘Do you know where they are? How to release them?’ Micah asks.
The monk looks up, desperate for Micah to understand. ‘Our family was ordained to prevent the Rephaim ever being unified, nothing more.’
I rest my forearms on the table. The wrought-iron swirls dig into my skin. The rain patters around us, kissing petals and leaves and soil. The smell of mint is sharper now.
Only the Rephaim can release the Fallen. And only if they all agree to it.
‘That’s why your family went to Jason and fed him the lie about keeping separate from the others—why those women told him he could avoid being sent to hell with the rest of the Rephaim if he stayed away from Nathaniel.’
‘It was the truth.’
‘Did you build that room for him—in case he changed his mind?’
‘No.’ Virginia straightens her spine. ‘It was not for Jason. We do not know for whom it was intended. We received instruction and we obeyed. It had not been fully tested—’
‘Sophie said it was a prototype. Were you planning on building one big enough to hold all of the Rephaim?’
‘That is not your concern.’
‘Who received that vision?’
Virginia squeezes her eyes shut. ‘My daughter, Louise.’ Her mouth pulls down. Her dead daughter.
I have a sudden image of Zarael threateni
ng Brother Stephen in the car park, enjoying the monk’s fear and then disappearing without him. Maybe that wasn’t the plan. My eyes drop to the neckline of his robe. ‘That crucifix is made of iron, isn’t it, like Virginia’s pendant?’
Stiff fingers involuntarily find the shape through the fabric. ‘It is all the protection I have ever had. That, and my faith.’
Jude drags a chair over the concrete and sits down. His hair is damp and starting to form ringlets to his shoulders. He used to hate that when we were kids and then he discovered how much the girls loved it. Our fake life was so much simpler.
‘How do you know the revelations come from heaven and not somewhere else?’ He directs the question to Brother Stephen.
Silence.
‘Brother,’ Micah says. ‘You can tell us, or I can shift you to Nathaniel and the Five right now and you can explain it to them.’
He touches his broken arm and winces. ‘It was my great-grandmother who first dreamed of the Fallen, of their children and what would become of them. An angel presented her with a set of scales—a sign that our family would be the balance. She heard battle horns and when she woke from her reverie she was holding a feather.’
‘Which means…?’
‘It means that Michael spoke to her.’
The Captain of the Angelic Garrison. I expect Micah to scoff at the story but he doesn’t and his silence makes me uneasy.
‘When was this?’ Jude asks.
‘The year the hybrids were born.’
‘And there have been other visions?’
The monk’s eyes flit to Virginia and away. ‘Irregular, but yes.’
It’s not as consistent as the seer line in Dani’s family, but close enough to sound plausible. Does that mean Dani’s visions come from an archangel—maybe even the same one?
‘Whose blood did you use to create the wards?’
The monk’s eyes drop to the table.
‘Did you help yourself to blood-soaked bandages in the infirmary?’
‘Of course I didn’t.’ The monk seems genuinely repulsed by the idea. And even if he did, he still had to get them to the other side of the world before the blood dried.
‘Jason gave us his blood,’ Virginia says.
I click my tongue. ‘Micah, can you get Jason, please?’
Micah is still fixated on Brother Stephen, as if the elderly monk’s betrayal will start to make sense if he stares at him long enough.
‘Micah.’
Micah gives me an impatient sigh. ‘Don’t let them out of your sight.’ He disappears.
Virginia fiddles with her charm bracelet even though Daniel has the protective iron pendant that used to hang there. ‘Nathaniel knows about Jason? He’s here?’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Even after all those decades of manipulation, he still ended up at the Sanctuary.’ She doesn’t need to know the circumstances, and Micah and Jason appear before she can ask.
‘Are you all right? Have they hurt you?’ Jason’s concern for Virginia is genuine and she has the decency to appear uncomfortable. Jason glances at Jude and me. ‘I’m glad you’re both okay.’ He scans the courtyard. ‘Is it safe to be in here?’
‘For the moment.’ I press my fingertips into my eyelids. God, I need to sleep. ‘Did you know Virginia’s related to the good brother here?’
Jason opens his mouth, closes it. Frowns.
‘He’s the one who provided the collection of photos at the farmhouse. It turns out Nathaniel’s had Virginia’s uncle here helping out for about sixty years. And Virginia just told us your blood sealed the trap.’
‘She what?’ Jason’s surprise shifts to something stronger. He stares at Virginia. ‘How is that possible, given I didn’t know that room existed until two days ago and I’ve never given you a drop of my blood?’
Virginia turns her face away.
‘It wasn’t me,’ he says. ‘There has to be someone else. Another Rephaite.’
Virginia stands up so fast she bumps her leg against the table, making her grimace. ‘Why am I still here? The house is gone, the room is destroyed—’ She stops.
‘Hang on,’ I say. ‘How do you know about the house?’
She looks to the monk again, but he doesn’t meet her gaze.
‘Brother Stephen didn’t tell you. He didn’t know.’
Virginia’s nostrils flare. She stays on her feet, fists clenched at her side.
‘Oh fuck…’ I spring to my feet. I move too quick and the tomato bushes blur together for a second. I reach for the table.
‘What?’ Jude steadies me.
There’s only one answer: ‘Mya.’
TWISTED FAMILY TREE
‘What’s Mya?’ Jude asks.
‘She shifted into the room after the door was locked.’
‘So?’
‘You think it’s a coincidence she’s the only Rephaite not restricted by the iron?’
‘But you got out—’
‘After she smeared her blood over every point the wings touched.’
‘Oh. Shit.’ Jude frowns. ‘Maybe Debra told her how to do it when she questioned her?’
‘Then why not tell us?’ I turn to Virginia. ‘Debra used Mya’s blood to activate the ward.’ It’s not a question and she doesn’t answer. ‘And Mya’s already been here to see you since we got back from Iowa to tell you about the farmhouse. Hasn’t she?’
With so much shifting going on here at the moment, she could’ve easily shifted in and out undetected. All she had to do was make sure Virginia was alone first.
‘Why would Mya do that? I know she doesn’t respect Nathaniel, but—’
‘She is our cousin.’
Wait. What?
Brother Stephen clears his throat, swallows. ‘She has been a part of this from the beginning.’
I sink back onto the hard seat. The iron women of Iowa are Mya’s family—her human family. Just like Dani and Maria are mine, Jude’s and Jason’s. Bloody hell.
We sit with the news in silence. And, slowly, a few more things make sense.
The fact Mya was such a mess in the cornfield after the attack. She wasn’t hung over, she was grieving for Sophie and Louise.
The fact she could snatch up Debra, even though Virginia’s daughter must have had an iron trinket. Debra left of her own free will because she knew Mya. Trusted her.
The fact she knew what to do in the iron room.
And then there’s the fact she stayed at the Sanctuary today even though she hates the place. It was because Virginia was a prisoner here.
Jason wanders into the rain. He stands there, dazed, his blond curls turning dark. ‘All this time, you had a member of the Rephaim in your family?’ He waits for Virginia to look at him, but she’s focused somewhere to his left. ‘Did Mya know about me?’
‘No,’ Brother Stephen says.
That explains her reaction to Jason in Pan Beach—and her obsession with his connection to the farmhouse. ‘And keeping them in the dark about each other—was that another failsafe in your plan to prevent the Rephaim uniting?’ I ask.
The monk glances at Virginia, nods once.
Micah links his fingers behind his neck. ‘I don’t know what Nathaniel’s going to do when he hears about this.’
‘Micah.’ Jude gets up from the table. ‘We need to talk to Mya before we do anything that puts her at risk. And the Outcasts should hear about this before Nathaniel and the Five.’
‘You’re kidding, you want me to sit on this?’ He lets his hands drop.
‘Nobody’s at risk.’
‘You don’t know that. And given you don’t remember what it’s like to be a part of this circus, you don’t know what you’re asking. Mya and Brother Stephen are spies.’
I catch his eye. ‘Micah—’ ‘Don’t, Gabe, it’s too much to ask. You don’t owe Mya anything.’
Aside from the fact she’s saved my life. Twice. And Ez and Zak definitely need to be in the loop on this before Nathaniel and the Five. I owe them at least that. �
�I know what it’s like to have everyone here treat you like a traitor.’
‘She is a traitor.’
‘Just give us time to tell her crew and get her side of the story,’ Jude says.
‘No way.’
‘Come on, Micah,’ I say. ‘Please.’
He looks at me, levelly.
‘I thought you trusted my judgment.’
‘Not fair, Gabe.’
I wait.
Micah takes a breath and lets it out impatiently. ‘Fine. One hour.’
‘Can’t you at least wait until we know if Rafa’s okay?’ It comes out flayed, raw.
He rubs his neck, calculates something. ‘Okay, you’ve got three hours. And then I have to take this to Daniel.’
BRUISES AND SPONGE BATHS
The drizzle is heavier now. Water runs along the gutters and drips onto the pavers in a steady rhythm. I stop outside the infirmary.
‘Do you want to check on Rafa?’ Jude asks.
Do I? What if nothing’s changed? What if he’s worse? I’m still standing there in damp clothes, shivering, when Jude puts his hand on my back and guides me through the doors. Our boots squeak on the lino in the hallway. My legs are jerky: they don’t feel like they belong to me. The smell of antiseptic grows stronger.
The infirmary door opens just before we reach it and Zak steps into the hallway. He stops abruptly. ‘Hey, I was on my way to find you.’
‘What’s happened?’ Jude asks. His grip tightens on my hoodie.
Zak doesn’t answer, he simply holds the door open. I step through first and my heart stumbles. Rafa is sitting on the side of the bed. His sliced shirt hangs open, his chest and abdomen still caked in dried blood. Dried blood.
‘Gaby…’ His voice is ragged. I reach him in three steps and put my arms around him, careful not to hurt him. He leans into me. He manages to lift one hand to my hip. It slides off. He’s still so weak.
‘Careful,’ Brother Ferro says. ‘The transfusion has stopped the bleeding but he still needs to heal. That’s the next test.’
Rafa mumbles something into my shoulder. Possibly my name again. I slide my fingers through his hair, soaked with sweat. There’s so much I want to say to him, but not in here and not in front of anyone else.