Chaos Bound (15 page)

‘Where were you?’

‘Over the rainbow, darling, and this man here,’ he pointed to Seth, ‘he’s the Wizard.’

I gave a small snort-laugh.

‘Did you bring the book?’ Seth interrupted, looking unimpressed by Casper’s speech. He sipped his coffee, frowned, then stirred some sugar in.

The grin dropped from Casper’s face. ‘I had it in a safe deposit bank, and someone stole it. Can you believe it? I thought those places were theft-proof.’

Seth stopped pouring sugar. ‘Are you serious?’

‘I'm always fucking serious, and I've got a good idea on who did it. It’ll take a little time in getting it back.’

Disappointment washed over me. I slumped back in the booth and wished I could pop the top button on my jeans without anyone noticing. Those pancakes had not been small. ‘Why would someone steal it?’

Casper shrugged. ‘It’s valuable.’

‘Just why did you have the book in the first place?’ I asked. ‘You don’t strike me as an avid book collector.’

Casper cupped his gold ringed fingers around his steaming cup. ‘It just came across my table one day. I have a knack out here… Things just fall into place for me.’

‘How much were you going to sell it to me for?’ I asked.

‘For you, darling? We just met, but I would have given you a fair price. For the Wizard though —’ Casper threw Seth a pointed look. ‘It was going to be a gift. I was looking forward to having my slate wiped clean.’

I sipped the dregs of my coffee and focused on Casper, bringing his aura into view. A hazy grey cloud flickered, stinging my eyes. I blinked the vision away, my eyes watering and frowned into my cup. Weird.

‘This was a waste of time.’ I made a move to get out of the booth, annoyed. I could have been back in Harken, searching for Roman. But I'd been selfish and had wasted my time on this errand that had garnered me nothing. A sour feeling curdled the food in my stomach.

‘Wait.’ Casper held up a hand. ‘I didn’t cancel the meeting because I bought something else I thought you’d be interested in.’ He pulled the backpack onto his lap and unzipped it. Putting a hand inside the bag, he hesitated, checking out the room. I shifted in the booth to follow his gaze. The two men at the service bar were still immersed in their food, while the boys at the pool table had started another game. The waitress stood behind the counter, watching a small television mounted on the wall, and looking nearly asleep. Satisfied, Casper pulled out an object wrapped in soft white linen. He placed it on the table and unfolded the layers to reveal a small book.

I stared at it with disappointment. ‘What’s this? Another book of magic? A movie guide?’ The leather binding was creased, the cover plain, its title faded with age. Seth went to pick it up, but Casper’s hand shot out, stopping him.

‘I'm counting on this book going towards some good will,’ he said.

‘Depends on what it is.’ Seth stared down at Casper’s hand on his wrist. The big guy hesitated, then let him go. I wondered what Seth had done for Casper to be so deep in debt, and what he was going to have to do now to get out of it. Seth flipped the book open and I tilted my head, trying to read upside down. The language looked like Latin. Orella had taught me a few languages when I was a child, since spells were based on bastardised versions of old Outland languages, like Sanskrit, Sumerian, Latin and Greek. Sanskrit was what Orella favoured, so it had been the language I was best at when casting. My Latin was a bit rusty though.

Seth was frowning. ‘This is a history book.’

‘Why would I be interested in that?’ I watched Seth turn the pages gently, his lips pressing tighter and tighter.

‘It’s the fifth volume in a series on the history of The Weald,’ said Casper. ‘This one outlines the Order of Guide’s rise from the wealth of The Higher Path faith. It’s dry reading, but there are a few nuggets in there that make it worth wading through.’

Seth closed the book. My eyebrows arched, asking him the silent question: Really? We came all this way for this? Seth said nothing, his eyes guarded as they met mine.

‘How is this book different from any other history book in The Weald?’ I asked Casper.

He nodded towards it. ‘This book is rare. It was produced by a printing company who had a warts-and-all credo about what they printed. When the Order of Guides realised some of their dirty little secrets had been revealed, they burned down the publishing house and imprisoned the writers and editors on trumped up heretic charges. That was about eighty years ago.’

I speared the last of my pancake with my fork, absently mopping up leftover syrup. ‘What would I care about Grigori secrets?’

Casper’s gave me a nasty grin. ‘It details the arrangement the Grigori made to breed their army of nephilim within The Weald. That’s something I thought you’d be interested in.’

I placed my fork down carefully. ‘Why would I care about nephilim?’

‘I heard you can use the craft here in the Outlands.’ Casper wrapped the book back up in its linen. ‘You think that’s because you’re a special little butterfly? You’re not the first nephilim to figure out what special talents they have.’

I tried to keep my jaw firm, but it fell open regardless. There were others?

I shot Seth a flat look. ‘Did you tell him about me?’

‘Who you are can’t be kept a secret for too long, Lora.’ Seth was still stirring the half-cup of sugar he’d poured into his coffee. ‘You need to start thinking strategies for when your birthright becomes general knowledge.’

I scowled. ‘Yeah? Well, I'll burn that bridge when I come to it.’

‘Seth’s right.’ Casper’s eyebrows rose over the top of his sunglasses. ‘You need to have friends in place, ready to help you out.’

‘I have friends. I have plenty of friends.’ I stabbed a finger at him. ‘You said I wasn’t the first nephilim to figure out my special talents. What are you implying by that?’

‘Guess.’ Casper tapped down his sunglasses, revealing his eyes. They were coal black, the irises small pinpricks of white. I glanced at Seth in amazement, but his eyes were firmly fixed on his coffee.

‘You’re nephilim? My voice rose into a startled squeak. ‘Why do you live out here, in the Outlands? Do the Grigori know about you? How is this possible?’

A crash sounded behind the counter, followed by the clattering of fallen utensils and my head whipped around towards the sound. The fright-night waitress’s eyes were fixed wide on the two guys at her counter. One of them was shaking, his skin writhing like snakes had burrowed beneath. His friend watched him with a blank expression, then he started to shake as well. The dim cafe lights flickered and fizzed, like they were burning out, and the air thickened with a soiled smell. I reached for my cane.

Casper passed Seth a handgun and a look loaded with meaning, then pull another gun from his backpack. Both men got out of the booth and I followed, cane in hand.

‘Stay in the booth, Lora.’ Seth gave my shoulder a shove, like he wasn’t going to give me a choice. I shrugged him off and drew my sword, the blade coming loose with a whisper of steel. Darkcraft wafted through the air: a sweet, rotten honey smell with a sharp bite. I searched the cafe, but couldn’t see who could be casting.

The two men fell to the ground, heels rattling against the linoleum floor. The waitress snapped out of her shock and started dialling on a portable phone, muttering about junkies. The teenagers had stopped their pool game and stared. After a few seconds, the men stopped convulsing and fell limp.

Seth stepped forward, gun steady on the fallen men.

‘Wait,’ Casper barked at him. ‘Stay back.’

Seth paused. ‘What do you think?’

‘I've got one guess,’ Casper murmured. ‘And it means trouble for us.’

‘What’s going on?’ I asked. I was still reeling from the realisation my secret of being able to cast in the Outlands wasn’t so secret after all. ‘Has someone hexed them? Are there other nephilim out here who can cast?’

‘More than you could imagine.’ Casper murmured. ‘Complete with our own set of beliefs, battles and grudge matches.’

I squeaked in fright when the fallen men lurched to their feet, reminding me of B-grade vampires rising from the grave. Their mouths hung open, dripping saliva, and their eyes had rolled back. The teenagers at the pool table threw startled looks at each other, and made a beeline for the fire exit by the toilet door. The waitress froze, phone hanging in her limp hand.

‘Lora Blackgoat,’ No-Fat-Chicks zombie-man spoke. His voice was wet and drool spilled from his slack lips. ‘Come with us and you will not be harmed.’

‘Who the fuck are you?’ I asked.

The corner of No-Fat-Chicks’s mouth twitched, like he was trying to remember how to smile. ‘Your destiny.’

‘That’s the second lamest pick-up line I've ever heard this week.’

Seth retreated to stand beside me. ‘They’re fleshlings. Don’t let them bite you. Once they latch on, they don’t let go.’

‘What’s a fleshling?’ I asked.

‘Bodies that have been infected with a deadly astral projection,’ Casper said. ‘It kills the brain, then controls the body like a puppet.’

‘Astral projection? That’s pretty serious darkcraft,’ I said.

Baseball-cap spoke. ‘Don’t get involved, Casper. Surrender her to me before you get yourself hurt.’

Casper and Seth both fired their weapons, and the dead men’s bodies twitched and jerked as they were peppered with bullets. The guns fell silent, and the dead men swayed on their feet, before collapsing in blood-soaked heaps.

‘We’ve got to go.’ I eyed the shocked waitress, wondering if she’d finished her emergency call. A tangle with the local law would complicate our little Outlands trip considerably. There was a loud hiccupping sound, and my eyes swung back to the fleshlings. One bloodied arm flopped about, then the dead men rose to their feet again. No-Fat-Chicks raced suddenly lurched towards us, moving fast. It pushed Seth aside, then came for me, fingers grasping. I sliced my sword up, just missing its body, my blade tearing through the dumb t-shirt instead.

There was a booming sound, then the booth nearest to me blew apart in an explosion of plastic. Shards of plastic smacked into my side and I hissed in pain. Ears ringing, I spied the waitress with a shotgun clutched in her hands.

‘Fuckers,’ she was shouting. ‘You dirty fucking junkies!’

Ignoring the waitress and her rather large shotgun, Seth grappled with Baseball-cap. Knives slid from his sleeves, and he slashed out, cutting deep.

‘Get under the table, Lora,’ Seth shouted.

Ignoring him, I stumbled towards the fleshling fighting Casper, my sword ready. Casper broke the embrace and kicked the fleshling back. Bringing his gun up, he shot it in the head a few times, one shot taking an eye, the others disintegrating its jaw into a pulpy mess. But the fleshling still came at Casper, hands clawing. I thrust my sword forward and the blade thudded deep into its belly. The fleshling backhanded me and I shot back, my sword sliding free and coming with me. Its next blow was to Casper’s chest, sending the big nephilim sailing across the room to crash against the pool table.

The fleshling turned to me, ragged mouth working loosely and bloodied teeth dropping to the floor. ‘We are destined, Lora Blackgoat. You and I, our paths are entwined. This was just a small demonstration of my power for you.’

‘Consider me impressed,’ I said. ‘How about we call it even?’

‘You would be wise to accept your fate and come to me willingly. After all, I now have three copies of the Aldebaran.’

I blinked at that, my mouth going a little dry. Before I could reply, Casper rose up behind the creature, a long-bladed knife in one hand. He’d lost his sunglasses, and the sight of his black eyes was more than a little unnerving. With a heave of his body, he sliced the blade through the dead man’s neck. The creature’s head toppled off, and its body fell back, twitching. The fleshling Seth had been fighting was now stumbling around the room, eye sockets nothing more than a pulpy messes. Casper’s blade swung through its neck in a clean blow.

‘Don’t any of you fuckers move!’ The waitress’s shotgun was trained on us, now, barrel shaking. She looked afraid, and very, very pissed off. ‘You fuckers better tell me what the fuck just happened.’

I pinched salt and cast, the spell hissing as it settled around the waitress in a shower of sparks. She screamed, dropping the shotgun to slap wildly at the light falling around her. The spell took effect and she fell silent, body going slack.

‘Nicely done.’ Casper sounded impressed.

‘Where did that big knife come from?’ I asked him.

‘These are very special shorts I'm wearing. Kind of like your snazzy belt.’

I watched as he wiped the filthy knife on his shirt, then unclipped a sheath from the inside his shorts, sheathing the blade.

Wondering what else he had hidden in his pants, I bent to retrieve the end of my cane and hissed as a sharp pain ripped up my side. Pressing a hand against the pain, I took deep breaths. ‘We’d better go. I've only hit her pause button and we don’t have much time before she shakes it off.’

Casper eyed the waitress. ‘Don’t suppose that spell wiped her memory as well? You can get away with a lot this side of the city, but might be pushing it to leave a witness.’

‘I don’t know any spell that wipes memories,’ I told him. ‘I'm just making sure we don’t get shot up.’

‘I'll take care of it, then.’ Casper’s mouth set at a grim angle. ‘Then I'll take you both somewhere safe to get patched up.’

‘Don’t you dare touch her,’ I snapped. ‘I won’t allow it.’

‘She’s a witness.’ Casper stared at me with his midnight eyes. The lack of emotion in his voice sent a wave of coldness through me.

‘She’s innocent.’ We all looked over at her, taking in the swastika tattoos. ‘Mostly innocent, I’m sure,’ I amended weakly.

‘Fine,’ Casper blew out a breath. ‘I never liked the coffee here anyway.’

Casper had a motorbike parked close, and we tailed him through winding back roads until we stopped outside a red brick building. An automatic door opened for us, leading down a steep ramp and into a basement car park with flickering fluorescent lights. Casper parked his motorbike next to the only other car in the car park, an SUV with sinister dark window tinting.