Chaos Rises: A Veil World Urban Fantasy

by Pippa Dacosta

  The sprinkler jets fizzled and slowed to drips. A soft quiet settled, punctured only by the soft drip-dripping of water. “You okay?” I asked. Clearly, he wasn’t. But if I could get him talking, he might come around from the nightmare he was stuck in.

  He didn’t answer.

  Resigned to a wet and cold night, I sat beside Torrent, pulled my legs up against my chest, and leaned into his wing. Tremors still rolled through him, but not as bad as before. Sometimes, words couldn’t fix things. Sometimes, it was enough to know you weren’t alone. In the past, I’d had Del’s hand in mine. Maybe Torrent hadn’t had anyone to help him through those times.

  I settled my hand against his wing, planted my chin on my knees, and closed my eyes. Hopefully, wherever his mind was, whatever memory he was reliving, he’d know he was no longer alone.

  * * *

  When I woke, sunlight streamed in through the motel window and cut straight to the back of my skull, where it beat a dull ache. It was too quiet to be Fairhaven, and the bed smelled fresh and clean. I was on the bed? I propped myself up on my elbows and patted myself down. My clothes and the sheets were bone dry. And the corner, where I distinctly remembered Torrent cowering, was empty.

  He’s gone.

  “Brilliant,” I growled.

  I showered, examined my almost-healed head wound, and frowned at the pile of bloodied towels. There was nothing left to hint at the flood, no wet carpets, no sign of anything unusual happening last night. I hadn’t imagined Torrent’s episode, had I?

  A few knocks rapped on the door. “It’s late. Do you want dinner?” Torrent. And he sounded…normal. There was a slight undercurrent of a growl in those words, like he’d just woken up, but for all I knew that could have been his morning voice. Dinner? I’d been out the entire day?

  I caught my reflection smiling and scowled right back at it. “I’ll be right there.”

  Torrent had bought bagels. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until the first bite of bagel went down. Leaning against a desk, I munched on the bread while Torrent spread his coat on the bed and checked its many internal and external pockets. He wore a different shirt, I noticed. He’d been out exploring, using Van’s card to pay for new clothes.

  I caught a glimpse of sharp-tipped arrowheads tucked inside his coat pockets. He picked up the compact bow, ran his hands over its mechanism with practiced ease, and began to load the quiver positioned below the barrel.

  He brushed his hip and hissed softly. I hadn’t imagined his wound, at least.

  “Why a crossbow?” I asked around a mouthful of bagel. “Why not a knife, or a gun?”

  “I can’t get the ammo for a gun, and if I’m close enough to use a knife, a fist will do just as well.” He tucked the final arrow into the quiver and lifted the bow, testing its weight. “The idea is not to get into a fight to begin with.”

  And yet he’d tackled Allard, one on one. It couldn’t just be to save me. We barely knew each another, and he seemed too sharp to play the hero and get himself killed for a stranger. Van then. In retaliation for Allard’s brutal attack. That made sense.

  I set my bagel down and approached the bed, eyeing the crossbow. Besides the reluctance to meet my gaze, Torrent seemed to have almost recovered from the wound and whatever had driven him into the corner. He held out the bow.

  Wordlessly, I took the weapon. It was lighter than I’d expected, with all manner of intricate pulleys keeping the size down and the arrow velocity high. He’d modified the stock slightly, shortening it, making it more practical to carry with him. “If the idea is not to get into a fight to begin with, what’s the scope for?” The mounted scope was tiny, but if his explanation about deterring enemies was going to hold any weight, he shouldn’t need a scope at all.

  A smile teetered on his lips. “For when I start the fight.”

  “What’s the draw weight?”

  “One hundred sixty-five pounds. Fires three hundred and sixty feet per second.”

  “Trigger?”

  “Three point five. Too loose and I’ll shoot myself in the foot.” His smile widened as I handed the weapon back. “You know about bows?”

  The words were there, ready to tell him about my firearms training, to share something of my past with someone who might appreciate it. But I swallowed all that down and masked the delay behind a wooden smile. “Crossbows? No. A little about firearms, I guess.” I tucked my hands into my pants as his gaze lingered, hinting at unasked questions before breaking away.

  Stupid, I shouldn’t have asked anything about the bow. Now he knew I’d had training. I had to tell him something. “I picked some info up, y’know…from Allard.” I’d never seen Allard with a weapon of any kind. It was a lie, like all the other little lies I’d told to keep Del and me safe.

  “You seem pretty smart, which begs the question of why you’d do something as crazy as stab Allard without a plan?”

  I flinched at the memory of driving the ice shard through Allard’s chest, not because it hurt to recall—the opposite, in fact. The sudden lick of demon desire had my human instincts squirming. “I didn’t think.”

  “Clearly.” He busied himself with the bow and coat.

  “No, I mean… I didn’t know I was going to do that. It just happened.” Like, for a second, I wasn’t in control, wasn’t even inside my own body. I’d blacked out from one second to the next, and in that moment, my demon had acted. That hadn’t happened before. Ever. I kept those thoughts to myself.

  He dropped the bow onto the bed and scooped up his coat, swirling it on in one smooth movement. “Your demon?” he asked, carefully.

  “Yeah.” I’d screwed up.

  “Don’t you have any control without that drug?”

  “I always have control.”

  “With the drug?”

  I moved to a desk and leaned against it, working hard to bury the truth. Yes, with the drug. Always with the drug, I wanted to say. He’d probably understand if I told him everything. He looked at me, waiting for the explanation that wouldn’t be coming. “You don’t know anything about me. I don’t know you. It makes things easier if we keep it that way.”

  His green eyes narrowed. “What if your demon decides it doesn’t much like me either? Am I going to find an ice dagger in my back?”

  Oh, he didn’t need to worry about that. Hurting Torrent was the last thing on my demon mind, behind all the other urges. “That won’t happen.”

  “Because you have control?”

  “Hey.” I straightened. “I wasn’t the one pissing rain all over us last night.”

  “That was—” His jaw locked, twitching a muscle in his cheek. “That’s none of your business.”

  I’d hit a nerve, and my short-lived anger fizzled away beneath his glare. The quiet got awkward real fast.

  He finally scooped up his bow and attached it to his belt. “Your control will get you killed. You’re better off learning how to manage the demon without the drug as an artificial fallback.”

  “Yeah well, I didn’t choose…” I trailed off, not wanting to touch any mention of the Institute. I smiled bitterly. It would be easy to talk around him. Too easy.

  “We’re half bloods. We don’t get a choice in anything.”

  I did. I chose to be here with him instead of running back to Allard with my tail between my legs, instead of running away and leaving my brother behind. “We should find somewhere safe we can hole up for a day while we figure out what to do next.”

  Torrent stopped at the door, hand on the handle. “I’ve walked the block. The hotel is off the main boulevard. We’re safe here.” He looked me in the eyes. “I know what you are.”

  What I am? My lips turned down at the corners. “And what is that?”

  “You’re combat trained. Too well trained to be a netherworld half blood. You know your demons, know how to kill them quickly and efficiently. You move with an acute awareness of your surroundings, always looking over your shoulder. But the tattoo gave you away.”
<
br />   My shoulder itched at the mention of the Institute branding. He’d known since we’d first met. I crossed my arms and looked down, scuffing my boots on the carpet. “Did you call them?”

  “No.”

  Why didn’t that put me at ease? I rolled my lips together and briefly considered silencing Torrent for good. If I had any hope of bargaining with Allard to get Del back, I needed Torrent. If we fought here, it would be brutal. He wouldn’t go down easily. The resulting clash of elements would alert the police and probably the Institute. It would be messy, chaotic, and not worth the risk.

  I turned and breathed in deeply. “So what now?”

  He looked at me, his expression level and measured. He knew how to keep his thoughts off his face. I’d do well to remember how. If he could manipulate a higher demon like Allard, he could manipulate me too.

  “You don’t know me.” He sighed. “And I get it. You don’t trust anyone. But I don’t want to be checking over my shoulder wondering if you’re going to stab me in it. I’ve lived with that fear… lived with it long enough.” A smile broke across his lips. “Can’t we just…get along?”

  “Like what, friends?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged. “Friends.”

  “How does that work?”

  “What?”

  “Friends?”

  He frowned, opened his mouth, seemed to forget what he was about to say, and rubbed a thumb across his bottom lip, clearly thinking. “I’m pretty sure friends don’t try to kill each other, or you know, give them up to the Institute.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t plan on killing him. I couldn’t hand him back to Allard dead.

  He held out his hand. I looked at it. Oh, the human handshake gesture. I stepped forward, held out my hand, and we shook. His touch was warm, like his wings. Soft too. I quickly let go and rammed my hands into my pockets.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  “Okay.”

  He smiled, and this time, it reached his eyes. “For what it’s worth, thank you for getting your ice on and stopping Allard.”

  I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “You stopped him from crushing me. So I guess we’re even.”

  “Guess so.”

  An odd squirming twisted in my gut. I did have to get Del back. And the only bargaining tool I had was Torrent. Friends didn’t betray one another. Maybe that was why I’d never had friends before.

  Chapter 16

  The packed chain restaurant was attached to the side of the hotel, where it soaked up passing foot traffic. And it was the last place I wanted to be. The sun had set, and people throbbed back and forth, chatting, joining others at their tables, doing noisy people things. My skin prickled at the sight of them. I waited for our food to arrive, knee jumping, chewing on my thumbnail. I’d tried to get the table near the back wall so I could see all the exits, but the place was too busy. We’d ended up hunched in a booth, my back exposed, surrounded by noise and people.

  “Relax, Gem.” Torrent watched me rattle in my seat. He was leaning back in his booth, resting an arm on the back like he belonged exactly where he was. “You look hunted.”

  The waiter came, laid out the dishes, and fussed over creating enough space for the drinks. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a main meal?” He placed my bowl of frozen yogurt in front of me.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  He smiled an odd little smile, like maybe I’d done something socially unacceptable. “Enjoy your meal.”

  I tucked into my pink frozen yogurt, and for a few wonderful seconds, forgot the noise, the movement, and Torrent’s raised eyebrow. The yogurt’s smooth chill went all the way down—to what felt like my soul—and a small pleasurable groan slipped free.

  Torrent spluttered, snapping me out of my moment. He took a long drink from his glass and cleared his throat.

  “What?”

  “You really like frozen yogurt, huh?”

  I blinked and avoided his gaze by burying mine in the yogurt. He’d meant it lightly, but how could I explain how the little things were luxuries? Frozen yogurt was worth its weight in gold when you’ve lived without a roof over your head or food in your belly. I considered how much to tell him about my time on the streets and whether he’d understand any of it. What would he think of me if he knew the things I’d done to survive, if he could picture me on my hands and knees in piss-soaked gutters, searching through the trash for dry cardboard to sleep on?

  An alarm sounded, a clanging sound followed by a rumbling. In a blink, I’d hunkered down and drawn in my element—the nearest exit was ten meters away—and then I realized my mistake. Not an alarm. Someone’s kid had dropped a bowl. The parents were fussing over it now, scraping chairs out of the way. I swallowed, relaxed my element, and lifted my eyes to Torrent.

  He hadn’t flinched, and why would he? It was a bowl. Heat touched my cheeks. It shouldn’t matter what he thought, but here, among these people, I couldn’t hide my fear. And there he was, tucking into his meal like he belonged.

  He took a moment to glance about the tables nearest us. “The people here won’t hurt you.”

  I knew that. I did. I just didn’t like the constant ebb and flow of noise and the ever-shifting bodies. I stabbed my spoon into my yogurt and concentrated on scooping tiny bits off so I could eat while keeping an eye on my blind spots.

  Torrent tucked into his meal, not in the least concerned that he had his back to the exits and couldn’t see any threat coming. After a few minutes of silent eating, he shifted forward in his seat and leaned an elbow on the table, bringing him in close enough that only I’d hear his whispers. “It’s demons hiding in plain sight you need to worry about. If you relaxed your hold on yours, you’d know there aren’t any threats here.”

  I smiled, or tried to, and poked my spoon at my frozen yogurt. How could he be so relaxed? He was a muddle of contradictions, comfortable among people, powerful among demons, but submissive too. As he swirled the ice in his drink, I roamed my gaze over his posture, coming to rest at the unusual winged-key pendant. When challenged, he touched that pendant, reached for it like a talisman. And then there were the scars. Someone at some time had deeply hurt him. I wondered if whoever it was had survived the encounter, if he’d scarred them in return, and if they were out there somewhere.

  “What will you do now that Vanessa’s gone?”

  He continued swirling his ice, the change in him barely noticeable, but he’d lost his easy posture and tensed up. “I don’t think she’s gone.” He looked at his drink and ran his thumb down the edge of the glass, collecting beads of condensation. “What Allard did to her… That was wrong.”

  I picked up my own cup and sniffed. Lemon water. I took a sip. The bite of citrus tingled on my tongue but couldn’t distract me from recalling in detail how Allard had torn Vanessa’s wings from her back. I’d assumed she’d die from the trauma. “You think she survived?”

  He rubbed at his forehead and closed his eyes. When he looked up, tiny lines gathered at their corners. “Allard deliberately left her alive.”

  It would be the kind of thing Allard would do. A lesson for the rest of us. Clearly, Torrent hadn’t enjoyed watching his former owner suffer, even if he had wanted her killed. Wanting someone to suffer and actually being responsible for that suffering are two very different things.

  I had my answer as to why Torrent attacked Allard. We each have our breaking points. Torrent had reached his, probably believing Allard wouldn’t hurt him, especially after Vanessa’s words. Allard needed a water elemental. He also needed me, and if Vanessa was correct, he already had my brother. I had her to thank for blowing his deception wide open. Pawns, she’d called us. And now, Allard knew I knew. That changed everything.

  I slid my gaze over the people, listened to them laugh, and watched the soft light flick across sharp cutlery. “I don’t like it here. We’re exposed.”

  Torrent lost his smile. He took a drink and pushed his meal aside. “What did the Institute do to you?”

  I was
n’t about to answer that. Even if I did feel like talking, it wouldn’t be here, among these normal people and their bright little lives. “Are you Institute?” I asked instead, switching the attention back onto him.

  He tapped his fingers on the table and looked around us like the answer could be found somewhere else. The more the seconds ticked by, the more I wondered what was so hard about the question. Either he was Institute or he wasn’t.

  “Where were you when the veil fell?” he finally asked, ignoring my question just the same as I’d ignored his.

  I lifted my gaze to meet his green eyes. “Running.” Running from the netherworld, from the nightmare, from the blood and pain, and the way it had made me feel—like maybe, deep inside, I’d liked the madness.

  “That’s what you were doing, not where you were.” He held my gaze for a few seconds and allowed a smile to smooth out his lips and sweep away some of the rising tension. “To answer your questions, Gem. I don’t know if I’m Institute. I’ve wondered. But I don’t have the branding, so I guess not.”

  How could he not know? “What do you mean, you’ve wondered? It’s not something you forget.”

  “I did.”

  “Huh?”

  “I don’t know where I was when the veil fell. I don’t even know who I was. I remember being torn apart, and then…” He leaned back, angling himself away so he didn’t have to look me in the eye. “Then Vanessa had me, and that’s all I know.”

  I remembered the tearing of demon and human. I remembered holding onto Del and screaming, remembered how he’d buried his head against my shoulder and sobbed. I remembered everything.