by Paula Weston
She smiles, and this one is all warmth. ‘Now you do all three—and kill creatures from hell with a shiny sword. You’re like the poster child for paranormal self-development.’
My face is hot and my eyes sting but I laugh anyway.
‘When was the last time you read the Book of Enoch?’ Jude asks Ez as Maggie and I walk back in.
‘Not for a couple of decades,’ she says.
‘It says it was the Archangel Michael who bound Semyaza and the Two Hundred.’
Rafa watches me sit down next to him, studies my face. He glances at Maggie and she gives him a reassuring smile.
‘So,’ Jude goes on, ‘it must have been Michael’s blood that confined them.’
‘And if anyone was going to give humans instructions about blood wards…’
‘It’s just a theory.’
‘What else did you find?’ Ez asks.
Jude scans the page. ‘The Archangel Gabriel was the one ordered to kill the bastards left behind—the Nephilim—and the women who gave birth to them.’
I clear my throat, check I’m together again. ‘I thought he was the merciful one?’
‘Not that day. This also says Semyaza taught the women charms and enchantments.’
‘For what?’
‘Doesn’t say.’
Rafa shuts his book and tosses it aside. ‘None of this is news. You knew that book inside out and it didn’t answer any of your questions then.’
‘We talked about this stuff?’ Jude asks.
‘Yeah, right. You had your existential debates with Mya, not me.’
A phone buzzes with a message. Ez checks her screen, smiles. ‘Rafa, the crew is in the commissary waiting for you.’
‘Excellent,’ he says and stands up, holds a hand out for me. ‘I could definitely go a beer.’
A HARD-EARNED THIRST
The Outcasts cheer and whistle when we walk in. Jones reaches Rafa first.
‘Looking good, dude.’ They bump fists. ‘Did you get any sleep?’ He winks at me. Awesome. Everyone knows Rafa was in my room. In my bed.
‘Yeah, some.’ Rafa’s eyes slide in my direction, check my reaction.
Jones is elbowed aside by Seth, who drags Rafa into a man hug. The Outcasts mill about, waiting to shake his hand or hug him. I catch a few glances in my direction from the girls—curious—and I can’t help thinking about Daniel’s jibe that I was the only Rephaite girl Rafa hadn’t slept with. That turned out to be an exaggeration—at least in part. Still, in the last century or so there’s a good chance he’s been with most of the girls here, and of course there’s Mya. But he’s been away from all of them for the past year—I stop, remember to breathe. Let it go. None of that part of Rafa’s past is news to me. I wish it didn’t feel like such a big deal.
I move away to give everyone room. The only other people in the commissary aside from us are the kitchen staff. The chefs are preoccupied sautéing and steaming, banging and chopping. The smell of garlic and pancetta hangs in the air. It’s dark outside, so I can’t see anything beyond the windows. I could be facing sky, trees or the mountains, it’s impossible to tell. All I can see is my own reflection—and Ez walking my way.
‘How are you?’ she asks.
‘Starving. When’s dinner?’ She tilts her head and I know the question wasn’t about my appetite. I sigh. ‘Are you going to tell me it’s a bad idea—me and Rafa?’
‘By my calculation it’s about three decades overdue.’ She smiles at my surprise. ‘Oh, it’s going to be messy, but you’ll sort yourselves out.’
I shouldn’t need her approval but I like having it. ‘How long did it take you and Zak?’
Her face softens, a private smile. ‘We’ve been together together for about twenty-five years, but it took us a good part of a century to figure out that’s what we wanted. Or, more to the point, to have the courage to try something permanent.’
My eyes skim over the other Outcasts. They’re all so comfortable with each other, so at ease. ‘Are there other couples like you guys?’
‘No, we’re the benchmark for longevity by at least two decades.’
Rafa is sitting on the edge of a table with Jude, surrounded by Outcasts. He’s waiting for me to look at him and when I do, he widens his eyes like he needs rescuing.
‘Come on,’ Ez says and we move back into the throng. Jude makes room so I can sit between him and Rafa. I feel exposed, conspicuous.
‘Any truth to the rumour Mya grabbed the old girl?’ Jones asks.
‘Yeah, Mya took Virginia,’ Rafa says. ‘We’re waiting to hear from her.’
Not quite true, but close enough.
‘What now?’
Rafa absently probes his chest through his t-shirt, around the tip of the crescent moon. ‘Zarael’s not going to roll over and take what happened in Iowa without retaliating. I wouldn’t mind hanging around here for another hour or so, see how it plays out.’
‘Are you staying?’ Seth asks Jude.
Jude tips his head at me. ‘We’re here as long as Rafa is.’
‘So now we’ve got both the women from that farmhouse,’ Jones says. ‘Do we know any more about them?’
‘We know a bit.’ It’s Ez who answers. ‘We know they’ve been tracking all of us from day one, and believe the Archangel Michael is giving them instructions.’
The commissary is instantly still. It’s like the archangel’s name alone is enough to incapacitate the Outcasts. For a few long seconds, the only sound is the clatter from the kitchen.
Rafa rubs his jaw. ‘It’s probably a load of shit—’
‘Were they involved with what happened to Jude and Gabe last year?’
‘Doubtful,’ Jude says. ‘The family’s more interested in keeping the Rephaim dysfunctional. They think we’re the key to releasing the Fallen.’
‘“We” as in us?’ Jones asks, and gestures to the Outcasts.
‘As in all of the Rephaim. United. They believe it’s their sacred mission to keep us separated.’
‘So storming out of here a decade ago was playing right into their hands?’
I look to the doorway. Taya stands there with Micah and Malachi. Her arm is in a sling, her hand heavily bandaged. The bruising on her face has faded, but now a scar follows her hairline from her temple to her jaw.
‘Pretty much,’ Jude says.
Taya walks towards us, slightly favouring her left leg. Deep shadows under her eyes stand out against translucent skin. She’s delicate, almost see-through. ‘How’s the chest?’ she asks Rafa.
‘I won’t make this year’s Rephaite calendar. How’s the hand?’
‘Missing a finger.’
The Outcasts are wary, but there’s no threat here from either side. Taya puts her good hand over the bandages covering her knuckles. ‘Brother Ferro wants to get me a glove with a prosthetic finger. I’d rather learn to swing a sword better with four.’
‘Of course,’ Rafa says. ‘That would be the hard way.’ They smile at each other. Not glare. Not taunt. Smile. ‘How much did you overhear?’
‘Enough to know Virginia’s gone.’
I finally look Micah in the eye. He’s not happy, but he gives a tiny shake of his head, which I hope means he still hasn’t mentioned to anyone why Mya took Virginia. I seriously owe that guy a beer. Maybe a keg.
‘You might want to avoid Nathaniel,’ Malachi says to me. ‘He’s not happy.’
‘And Daniel?’
Malachi’s lips twitch into a small smile. ‘He scored points for sending me along to keep an eye on you.’
Micah tilts his head, gives me a look that says, See—I know what I’m doing.
‘Did you catch up with Simon before you left the infirmary?’ I ask Taya.
‘Yeah. He needs to get home. All those boys do.’
I nod, but I can’t see how it’s any safer for them to be back in Pan Beach now. Especially not if Zarael’s looking for payback.
‘How’s your shoulder?’ Jude asks Taya. With all the t
rauma over her missing finger, I’d almost forgotten one of the Gatekeepers buried a sword in her shoulderblade at the Butlers’ camp.
‘So-so.’ She heads over to our table and sits between Jude and me, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. ‘I hear I missed a good brawl.’
Jones smirks. ‘Yeah. It was a touching reunion.’
For a few seconds, nobody speaks. Taya clears her throat. ‘Thanks for coming for us.’ She says it quietly. ‘Thanks for coming for me.’
‘We tried patience,’ I say, ‘and then your finger turned up.’
She touches her bandaged hand again, almost involuntarily. ‘The Five would’ve sent a team eventually.’
‘Yeah,’ Rafa says. ‘And you still had nine fingers to get through.’
They share a look. Knowing. A decade of antagonism and recrimination between them dissolved: gone. They’re tied together now, connected by something stronger.
‘You guys hanging around?’ Malachi asks.
Rafa nods. ‘For the moment.’
‘Nathaniel wants Virginia back. The room might be gone, but he still needs to know how they built it. And he’ll want to talk to you. And Gabe and Jude.’
‘Something to look forward to.’ Rafa gestures to the back of the room. ‘Is the bar open yet?’
Jude and Ez pull tables together and a few minutes later we’re gathered around them, beers in hand. Rafa sits next to me, lets his knee rest against mine. It anchors me.
‘What happened in there?’ Jones asks the question carefully, respectfully. Rafa meets Taya’s eyes. It takes him a few seconds to answer.
‘As soon as we arrived in that room, Bel stabbed me again. And then Taya somehow managed to shift. Took them by surprise. I don’t think they expected us to be able to get around in there.’
‘Yeah,’ she says, deadpan, ‘it bought us all of a few seconds.’
‘Long enough for you to rip the steel out of my gut mid-shift and start healing me.’ He shakes his head. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
Taya shrugs off the compliment. ‘We managed to shift half a dozen times—mended the worst of the initial damage—before they got syringes into us.’
‘And then what?’ Malachi asks.
‘Zarael waited until we were conscious enough to feel pain, and then the real fun began.’ She glances at Rafa. ‘Neither of us could shift after that.’
Nobody speaks for a long moment.
‘It’s a shame you missed the best part.’ Rafa squeezes my thigh under the table and recounts how Bel lost his head. Or at least the parts he remembers.
‘How did you get out?’ The question comes from a wiry girl with short strawberry blonde hair whose name I can’t remember. ‘We came into the house to help, but Leon got that iron door shut again. We thought you were screwed.’
I go blank. I hadn’t realised other Outcasts were inside the house. It means they know we got out of that room while it was sealed.
‘Mya broke the wards with blood,’ Ez says.
A collective pause. ‘How?’
‘Long story.’ Ez drags her plait over her shoulder and fiddles with the leather tie. Meets my eyes, then Micah’s. She’s going to tell the Outcasts the truth. Even with Taya and Malachi in the room.
‘Well, well, look who it is.’ Jones is grinning at someone behind me. Daisy. ‘You crossing over to the dark side finally?’
Ez lets her breath out, pushes her hair back over her shoulder.
‘In your dreams,’ Daisy says. She searches for Taya, relaxes a fraction when she finds her. ‘Welcome home.’ She nods at Rafa. ‘You too.’
‘We could’ve used you and those twin-sided sais in Iowa,’ Jude says.
Something crosses Daisy’s face—regret? ‘I’m not like you: I like having a home. Not all of us can get away with defying Daniel.’ She glances at Malachi.
‘Come on Desdemona.’ Jones pulls out a chair for her. ‘Have a drink with us.’
Conversation fragments around us. Next to me, Rafa is talking to Seth. Occasionally he taps the side of his boot on mine. I bump my knee against his.
‘You’re as bad as the Five, not telling them the truth,’ Micah says quietly.
Jude peels a strip off the label of his Italian beer and glances down the table at Daisy. ‘You think now’s the time?
‘Don’t judge her. She’s just trying to play this straight.’
‘Which would mean telling Daniel anything she hears in here.’
‘And Taya and Malachi won’t?’
‘You tell me.’
Right now they’re deep in conversation with Ez, Zak and an Outcast with a shaved head and multiple piercings. Jude rolls the wet beer label into a tight ball. ‘What are the chances of us getting more time with Brother Stephen?’
‘Really? Not enough crap going on for you right now?’ Micah lifts his bottle, drains it and then sighs. ‘He’ll be back in his cell by now.’
I nearly choke on my mouthful. ‘They locked him up? I thought he didn’t tell them anything?’
‘He didn’t. He’s in the tiny wardrobe he calls his room. In a monastery they’re called cells.’
Oh. I think I knew that.
‘And if you’re serious, we should go now before the rest of the Sanctuary starts filing in here for aperitivo.’
Rafa leans back as if he’s stretching and rests his arm along the top of my chair. ‘I’m in,’ he says. ‘I definitely want a chat with that sly old man before anyone else gets to him.’
FAMILY SECRETS
‘We’ll be back in a minute,’ Rafa says to the gathering. ‘Keep the beer coming.’
Outside, it’s me, Jude, Rafa and Micah. The wind whispers through the lavender, cold and persistent. Ez joins us about ten seconds later. ‘Zak’s keeping an eye on things in there.’
She and Micah lead us towards the front of the monastery, closer to the car park and the public chapel. The wind has picked up again and icy air bites my cheeks. Rafa and I walk shoulder-to-shoulder; his fingers find mine. We’re passing along a cloister—yet another one—under lamps hung from rusty chains. The pavers are uneven here and the stone columns streaked black. This end of the Sanctuary is nowhere near as well kept as the rest of the place.
We’re a little conspicuous moving along in our small pack, but we don’t come across anyone else—Rephaite or otherwise. We slip inside a building covered in a creeper vine and climb a steep, narrow staircase. The paint on the walls is peeling, cobwebs hang from the cornices. It’s draughty, much colder than our building.
Jude picks at the flaking paint. ‘Nice. The monks live in squalor while the Rephaim are in luxury a stone’s throw away.’
‘Steady on,’ Micah says over his shoulder. ‘The brothers have taken a vow of poverty. They don’t want luxury.’
‘Did anyone ask them?’
We reach the upper floor and Micah pauses in the gloomy hallway.
‘You don’t have to be here,’ I say.
He lifts one shoulder, lets it drop. ‘I’m up to my neck in this now so I may as well stay in the loop. And I’m not done with the good brother either.’
Brother Stephen’s room is down the far end of the hallway. Micah knocks twice, waits. There’s a cough and shuffling on the other side, and then the door opens. It catches on the carpet. The monk takes in the sight of the five of us and the colour leaves his face.
‘We’re not here to hurt you,’ Ez says.
He cradles his broken arm, draws a shallow breath and steps aside.
The room is so narrow we have to line up with our backs against the wall, wedged beside Brother Stephen’s bed. It has a wardrobe, a small side table, shelves stacked with tatty books and a tiny window. A single bulb hangs on exposed wiring. I smell camphor and liniment, and the oranges he has in a bowl by his bedside. I rub my arms through my jumper. How does he not freeze in here?
‘You told Mya we knew the truth about her,’ I say.
His shoulders are more stooped now, his movements s
lower. The dressing on his neck wound is puckered, matching his folded skin.
‘She would have come for Virginia eventually. I made sure there was no violence involved.’
‘What did you tell Daniel?’
‘I told him the truth: that there was nothing I could do to stop her. He has no reason not to believe me.’ He clasps his bony hands together—awkward with his sling—and lifts them towards Micah in a gesture of gratitude.
‘How does lying fit with the oaths you’ve taken here?’ Jude asks.
‘I do not lie.’
‘There are still lies of omission.’
‘That is between me and God.’
Rafa knocks his boot against the monk’s bed frame. ‘You should’ve gone with Mya.’
Brother Stephen lowers himself onto the mattress, grimacing as he takes his weight on his good wrist. The springs squeak. ‘Where would I go? Iowa? Los Angeles? I have known no other home but this since I was fifteen.’
‘It’s only a matter of time before it all comes out.’
The monk closes his eyes. ‘I have served God to the best of my ability and will accept whatever consequences come.’
Micah glances around the room, the sparseness. ‘How do you get information to your family?’
A deep sigh escapes Brother Stephen, like all the air is leaving him. Ez watches him in silence, her expression guarded.
‘When I was first here, my mother or my sister would come to Italy once a year from America. I would arrange to meet them when it was my turn to collect supplies from the village.’
‘How do you do it now?’
‘Mobile phone.’
Of course.
‘I would tell them about Nathaniel and what was happening here: training, missions, how the Rephaim were divided into different specialities.’ He speaks slowly, as if every word costs him energy. ‘In recent decades it has been about building the photo library. Understanding who is who and what each of your strengths are.’
‘Why?’
His mouth twists a little. ‘To better understand the enemy.’
‘You think we’re your enemy?’ Micah sounds genuinely hurt.
‘No, Micah,’ Brother Stephen says, ‘I have not thought so for some time.’