Chaos Bound (19 page)

‘Kianna’s tits. Save me from budding love and fucking newlyweds.’ I wiped a hand across my brow and sat down on a couch, feeling worn out.

Nicola flushed. ‘We’re not married yet. The family ceremony is tomorrow. Then we’ll celebrate that night with friends on the main street in the Quarter.’ Her eyes flared defiantly. ‘I want you to come. I want you to see how happy we are.’

‘Ivor Grogan will try to kill you, brother.’ Crowhurst flapped his arms about in frustration. ‘This will start a war. Our clan will suffer as a result of this.’

Tarn’s eyes grew cold. ‘Since when did you care about family, Reuben?’

‘My daddy is not a monster.’ Nicola began to cry. ‘He won’t hurt Tarn when I explain things to him.’

‘Are you nuts?’ Now I was yelling. I pushed off my cane and struggled to my feet. ‘Your father will rip Tarn’s heart out.’ The words came out of my mouth in a rush. I felt them sear my mind along with an image, that of Jonas Grundler lying dead in the hedge maze, a hole in his chest. I swallowed. Swallowed again. ‘You both need to leave the city,’ I finished weakly.

‘Does she know everything about our kind, brother?’ Crowhurst demanded. ‘Has she seen the beast inside of you?’

‘That’s not just who I am.’ Tarn’s voice was raw. ‘I won’t let being a griorwolf define me. You, Reuben, above all should understand that.’

‘You can’t change your nature. You can deny it all you like.’ The words fell from my lips like stones. Big, fat, hypocritical stones. The charm around my neck suddenly felt heavy.

Tarn ignored me, addressing Crowhurst. ‘I can control my shifting. You know how strong I am. I can protect Nicola.’

‘Hellfires. I'm not worried about her.’ Crowhurst’s face fell with disappointment. He could see it as plain as I could: that nothing we said would change anything at this point. I'd caught a glimpse of Nicola’s aura when I'd seen her first embrace Tarn. It had been a rose colour with flecks of gold. Love, and a bad case of it.

Nicola wiped the tears from her cheeks. ‘I will talk to daddy. I will make him see.’

‘That’s going to be a tough sell,’ I murmured. ‘Why don’t you wait? Let me talk to Gideon first, see what he says.’

Crowhurst was looking at me funny. ‘That’s it? That’s all you’ve got? Turning to Gideon for help?’

‘You got a better idea?’ I snapped back. ‘I'm fresh out.’

‘Brother.’ Tarn approached Crowhurst, hands out. ‘I want you to be happy for us. Is that too much to ask?’

Crowhurst gave an exasperated sigh as he was pulled into his brother’s embrace.

‘I'll stand by you.’ Crowhurst’s voice was thick. He shot me a look. ‘We both will.’

‘Wait a minute.’ I held my hands up. ‘What do you mean “we”?’

Nicola streaked across the room towards me, and I was engulfed in silk and hair that smelled like lilacs. ‘Oh Lora, this is wonderful! I can’t wait for you to see my dress tomorrow night.’

‘All right, all right.’ I managed to disengage myself from her enthusiastic clutches.

Crowhurst and I said our goodbyes, with more promises of trying to make the celebrations the next night. Outside, the three old women grinned at us with gap-toothed mouths. I gave them a half-hearted wave as we walked back to the car.

‘What do you think Gideon can do to help this?’ Crowhurst asked me.

‘Probably not much. Are you going to the family wedding ceremony?’

‘I got an invite, so I should turn up.’ Crowhurst paused by the car, tapping the engine key against his leg. ‘I heard about Cloete.’

‘Yeah?’ I arched an eyebrow. ‘What did you hear?’

‘That she quit Blackgoat and joined the Sisters of No Mercy, who are making a play against Gideon. Two Runners quit just last week to join them.’

I knocked on the car window pointedly. Crowhurst unlocked the car and leant over to open my side. Getting in, I buckled my seatbelt, then looked up to find Crowhurst watching me.

‘Is it true then?’ he asked. ‘That Cloete quit?’

‘I don’t know. I guess.’ I shifted in my seat, feeling uncomfortable. ‘Let’s focus on one problem at a time. Grogan is going to come for his daughter, which means your brother is in the firing line. You need to warn your family, maybe try to convince the happy couple to leave town.’

‘You think things would get that bad?’ Crowhurst asked.

‘What do you think?’

Crowhurst suddenly looked tired. ‘You’re right. They need to leave town.’

I turned to stare out of the car window, trying to keep dark thoughts at bay. ‘The sooner the better.’

Back at Blackgoat Watch, Crowhurst and I found Gideon seated at the kitchen table. He wore a smoking jacket with his fez pushed back, a street press paper clutched in one hand, a piece of fried chicken in the other. A couple of Runners with big chins and broad shoulders sat next to him, playing a quiet game of cards.

‘Those are two very worried faces,’ Gideon commented as Crowhurst and I lurked in the doorway. He took a mouthful of chicken and put his paper down. I slipped into a seat across from him, my mouth watering at the smell of food. Crowhurst stayed in the doorway, arms crossed, face tight.

‘We’ve got a small problem,’ I said. ‘Nicola Grogan has a secret boyfriend and is going to get married tomorrow.’

Gideon choked on his mouthful. The two Runners exchanged looks, grabbed the plate of fried chicken and disappeared out to the courtyard.

Gideon surged to his feet, thumping his chest. ‘Refresh my memory as to why this is my problem? Blackgoat Watch is no longer attending to the affairs of the lovely Nicola Grogan.’

‘She’ll be in danger,’ I said. ‘As well as the boyfriend.’

‘Sorry to sound callous, Lora…but who cares?’ Gideon’s throat clicked and burred. ‘It is best to keep out of messy family affairs.’

‘Like the situation with the Mayor’s daughter?’ I threw at him.

‘Leave it be, Lora.’ Crowhurst shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘Let me deal with it.’

Gideon’s eyes zeroed in on Crowhurst. ‘Please tell me you’re not the boyfriend.’

‘Does it really matter who it is?’ Crowhurst muttered.

‘Who. Is. It?’ Gideon’s voice was dangerous.

‘Crowhurst’s brother, Tarn Marrok,’ I supplied. ‘You see, it kind of involves Blackgoat family. We can’t just stand aside and watch Grogan tear Crowhurst’s family apart.’

Gideon sank back down in his seat and placed his head in his hands. ‘I'm being punished. I just know it. First my best Runners stop showing up for work, now this.’

I sniffed. ‘I thought I was your best Runner.’

‘What’s all this yelling about?’ Orella appeared in the doorway behind Crowhurst, hands on hips. She wore a red and white scarf wrapped around her hair and black hoops in her ears. ‘I could hear you bellowing all the way upstairs.’

‘Upstairs? Upstairs?’ Gideon spluttered. ‘What are you doing in my office, woman? Why aren’t you resting like I told you to?’

‘You know why, you silly old goat. I'm getting your papers in order, like I said I would,’ Orella said. ‘The auditor is coming tomorrow, and it’s time you took this threat seriously.’

‘What’s this about auditors?’ I asked. ‘What papers need to be in order?’

‘It’s nothing,’ Gideon said loudly. ‘A little misunderstanding.’

Orella gave a humourless snort, but changed the subject. ‘What’s happening here now? Why do you all look so serious?’

‘Nicola Grogan is going to marry Crowhurst’s brother, Tarn Marrok, tomorrow,’ I told her. ‘Which presents a problem, since her father has promised her to someone else.’

Orella shot Gideon a withering look, then walked to the icebox and pulled out a bottle of vodka. She grabbed a couple of mugs and sat down next to me. ‘You should select clients with a little more care, old goat. Any business that has ties with a person like Ivor Grogan is bound to end in bloodshed. Blackgoat Watch should be known for having good sense and some morals, after all.’

‘Morals,’ Gideon growled, ‘do not pay the bills.’

‘And good sense is too hard,’ I added.

Crowhurst rubbed his face, and looked miserable. Orella poured a healthy slug into one mug and passed it to him. Then she poured out another, pushing it over to Gideon.

‘Nothing can be done now,’ I said. ‘We can’t stop them from marrying.’

One of the Runners from the courtyard poked his head in the kitchen, and cleared his throat. ‘Boss, can we have a word with you for a moment?’

Gideon threw back his vodka. ‘Duty calls, ladies and gentleman. I smell more mutiny in the ranks.’

‘Maya Velkov?’ I asked. Gideon shrugged, as if to say ‘who else’, and stomped outside to the courtyard.

‘That woman is a snake,’ said Orella, tipping a slug of vodka into the mug Gideon left behind. ‘She is a cruel manipulator and I fear poor Cloete had little choice in her decision.’

‘There’s always a choice,’ I murmured.

Orella didn’t reply to that, and silence filled the room. Crowhurst muttered something about needing to talk to his mother, and left.

Orella finished her drink, poured another, and passed it to me. ‘Don’t forget your trial tomorrow. Don’t go without your lawyer.’

‘I won’t.’ I sipped the vodka. ‘Why were you really in Gideon’s office?’

‘Just as I said. Helping Gideon get organised for an audit. The notice was delivered yesterday,’ Orella said.

I frowned. ‘Is that a little unusual? I haven’t heard of any business around here being audited.’

Orella pulled at an earlobe, the black hoops clunking together. ‘In light of the stunt Gideon pulled with the Mayor at the Grogan party, I think it’s hardly a coincidence.’

‘Is there anything to be worried about?’ I asked. ‘Gideon keeps everything on the level, doesn’t he?’

‘I'm not sure that matters. If the auditors have been told to shut Blackgoat down.’

‘You think that might happen?’

Orella sighed. ‘Depends on how vindictive our dear Lord Mayor is feeling.’ She absently scratched an armpit. ‘We might have to start praying a little harder for divine help.’

Crowhurst dropped me back home as twilight set in, the moon already making a ghostly appearance in the deep violet sky. Only when I was getting out of the car, and my foot caught on my satchel, did I remember I'd forgotten to take a look at Casper’s book.

Guilt twinged as I limped to my door, leaning heavily on my cane, my satchel slung over one shoulder. I was supposed to report back to Seth. He’d helped secure my freedom by vouching for me, and I owed him for that. But I wanted to check on my home, and freshen up before searching again for Roman. His continued absence had me rattled, and my unease churned with the burning panic Nicola Grogan’s pending nuptials had caused.

I let myself in, locked the door behind me, and trudged upstairs to my bedroom. The house was quiet, something I was still struggling to get used to. I missed the company of my old housekeeper, Morgan. She’d been with me a long time, until she became a victim of the events the Brotherhood of the Red Hand put into play. I hadn’t the heart or desire to hire anyone to replace her and still blamed myself bitterly for her death.

Surveying the mess in my bedroom, I knew I was going to have to clean sooner or later. But not tonight. Dumping my satchel on the ground, I fumbled around in the piles of clothes until I came up with loose cotton trousers and a black shirt. My side was still raw, but I pulled off Casper’s dressing anyway, finding the tape beginning to itch.

In the bathroom, I turned on the sink taps, waiting while the old iron pipes rattled and shook before water splashed into the basin. I washed my face, taking a moment to breathe and collect myself. Then I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and leant closer.

More black hair.

My breath hitched, and my hands flew to my head, shifting my hair around. I wasn’t imagining it. For some reason, the bleaches I was buying weren’t taking hold and, despite dying my hair two weeks ago, even more black hair was starting to streak through. Like I needed something else to worry about.

I pressed my lips together and stared into my eyes, searching for any other changes. Mirror to the soul, right? My thoughts flew to the prophecy of the Dreadwitch. Seth had once told me prophecies were structures built to suit people’s goals. If I wanted to announce I was this Dreadwitch, then I could be. And if I didn’t? That was fine as well. Not all prophecies came to pass. Sariel, the one who appeared in my dreams, and who claimed he was an angel and my father, said he had hoped I would produce a child, one who would become this Dreadwitch. Which meant even he knew things weren’t set in stone. Fate was malleable, changeable. You could guide it, to a certain extent; you just had to make the right choices.

My fingers pulled at the lines around my eyes. Nephilim aged slowly. I wondered if I would have that same gift. My snow-white hair had been a source of torment for me in my younger years. When I hit my teens, it turned into a symbol of fierce pride. I was used to the accusation of Witch Hunter, of the dirty looks. It had hardened me, shaped who I was.

Stepping away from the mirror, I massaged my temples, the introspection giving me a headache. Back in my bedroom, I was going over my plan to search for Roman, when my ears picked up a tapping sound against my shutters, too quick for a branch moving in the breeze. I'd re-drawn all the entry hexes around the house, but if someone could break them once, they could do it again.

I swung the shutters open, and jumped in fright at the sight of Roman crouched on a tree branch near the window. He wore a coat that didn’t look warm enough for the cool night air, and an expression that said he’d been on the branch longer than he’d have liked.

He nodded at the inscriptions scribbled in fresh white chalk around the window frame. ‘I can’t enter until you invite me in.’

‘What. The. Fuck.’ My hands reached for him. ‘I invite you in. Now hurry up before you fall.’

Roman hauled himself into my room and stretched his back, while I shut the window. Turning, I crossed my arms, not sure if I wanted to hug him or sink a fist into his guts.

Where have you been?’ My voice was sharp and brittle. ‘Do you know the Order are hunting you? Do you know the trouble you’re in? Pulling a disappearing act like that. And why are you climbing my tree? Ever hear of a front door?’