Chaos Bound (2 page)

‘Hello, Dimples.’ Seth leant against a tree trunk, smoking a thin cigarillo. He wore a starchy City Watch uniform under a battered leather greatcoat, a wheellock pistol strapped against one thigh. He smiled at me, teeth white against his dark goatee. A straight razor sat in one hand, the blade angled to the sun. A saddled horse stood a little way off, tethered to a low hanging branch.

‘Having fun watching the show?’ I asked dryly. Seth and I had a long past together: a patchwork of fights, long absences and moments of heated, sexual bliss. Then things had soured between us after I'd discovered he’d been keeping secrets about his past. Wasn’t the kind of thing a girl could easily forgive, not when you understood the kind of past he’d been hiding.

‘I always enjoy watching you work, Dimples.’ Seth folded the razor back into its ivory handle, blade winking one last time. I ignored the thrill of excitement that sparked low in my belly. Seems my libido had the memory of a fruit fly and had forgotten we were angry with him. Stupid libido. Stupid men.

‘Are you all right?’ Seth’s tawny eyes were calculating as he stared at me through tendrils of smoke. ‘I could hear the widow from here. You know she was just talking nonsense.’

‘I don’t care what she thinks. I don’t care what anyone thinks.’ My hands tightened around my cane. A wicked sword hid in its stem, but running Seth through seemed like a slight overreaction. He took a step towards me and I shifted back, fresh indignation spiking my veins in a hot rush. I needed to keep my distance; my body had its own ideas when it came to Seth Hallow, and most of it involved sweaty cravings of the bedroom variety.

Seth dropped his cigarillo and rolled a boot toe over the smoking stub. ‘Glad you don’t care what people think. Especially with your latest nickname.’

I mashed my lips together. I was not going to ask. I was not going to ask. Since the beheading incident, people had been calling me Chopper behind my back. Gideon had lectured me on the virtues of having a ferocious nickname, a killer’s handle to awe the clientele. But I loathed it, the name a constant reminder of a blood drenched moment I wanted to forget. And now, apparently, I had a new one.

‘Personally, I think everyone should call you Dimples,’ Seth said. ‘Since you have the cutest pair I ever did see.’

‘Stop calling me that. You know I hate it.’

‘It’s an improvement on Chopper,’ Seth continued, ignoring me. ‘Though I must say, the new one isn’t very flattering.’ He grinned, like he could smell my curiosity in the spring air.

‘I don’t want to know.’

His smile dampened at my frosty tone. ‘Still mad at me?’

‘What do you want, Seth?’

‘You won’t return my messages, so I had to resort to stalking. A mighty fall for a Captain of the City Watch, don’t you think?’

‘I asked what you wanted.’

His bright eyes darkened. ‘I heard you were hanging around that Regulator lately. He’s nothing but bad news.’ Seth’s words were measured, but his tone carried a warning tone that summoned a scowl to my face.

‘Bad news, hey? Kind of like you?’ I snapped.

Seth moved forward and I stumbled back, hitting a trunk behind me. Seth came close, cupping the back of my neck with a strong hand. ‘I'm looking out for you, Lora, something you’ve not being very appreciative of. You can understand how a man might feel aggrieved.’ His movements spoke of restrained violence, lurking underneath a thin surface of social necessity. I wasn’t impressed though, and inched up my chin to glare into his gold-flecked eyes.

‘Get lost, Seth. I've got nothing for you.’

His hand slid to my right hip, a possessive touch and my thighs clenched, remembering moments of tangled passion and deep kisses. I closed my eyes and tried to keep a level head as hot desire swept through me, tempering my anger. Seth’s closeness was the headiest of aphrodisiacs, his familiar smell intoxicating. But I'd come a long way since we’d first met, when I'd been seduced by his sweet words and clever hands. If Seth tried to sneak into my bed these days, I was just as likely to pull my cane sword and threaten his Mr Winky.

I opened my eyes to see Seth staring down, eyes expectant, waiting for me to crumble and forgive him. After all, I'd forgiven him in the past for his indiscretions; had always welcomed him back into my bed after months of no contact. But Seth didn’t seem to realise this time was different. Everything was different. I'd found out he was ex-hellspawn, expelled from The Pit. I'd also discovered he’d known what I was. That underneath my snow-white hair and eclectic fashion sense beat the heart of a nephilim: half angel, half human.

The fun didn’t stop there, either. I'd discovered I was the only female of my kind to ever exist. Not something I wanted anyone else to know. Nothing like being a freak to bring out the fanatics. A spell woven into a charm around my neck hid any nephilim characteristics; it had made my hair ivory instead of ebony, my eyes green instead of black. The first charm had broken and it had been Seth who had told me it had contained a powerful concealment spell. I had a theory that Seth had known I was nephilim since we’d met. I saw it as a betrayal, that he’d pretended to care about me. Pretended to be my friend. Pretended he loved me.

Yeah, right.

‘Get off me.’ I scratched around inside my head, trying to reignite the indignant rage I'd been coasting on the last few weeks. I'd made my peace with Gideon over tankards of beers, and then with Orella over pots of spicy tea. The two of them had conspired to keep my true identity from me and while I didn’t agree with what they had done, I understood they just wanted to protect me. But Seth? I didn’t understand his motivations, only that our relationship had been a set-up from the start.

‘I didn’t exactly plan for things to go this way, Lora.’ Seth sounded exasperated. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d ever want to embrace your heritage.’

‘How did you know?’ I asked stiffly. ‘How did you know what I was?’

Seth took my hands in his, his touch warm and inviting, full of promise. ‘Sometimes, I see things in dreams. Premonitions, maybe. I saw you and a suggestion of what you were. Nothing specific, just that you were special. So I arranged for us to meet, and you intrigued me. In time, I learned just how special you were.’

I ignored his gentle words, letting unasked questions burn in the air. Seth saw them in my eyes and his hands tightened. ‘I didn’t say anything about what you were because I wasn’t sure,’ he said. ‘You had the white hair of a Witch Hunter, so I thought I could be wrong about your bloodline.’

‘When did you know what I was? When were you sure?’ I asked.

‘Why does that matter?’

I pulled away, raising a hand to touch the new concealment charm under my shirt. Probably a bad idea to even start on questions. ‘It matters.’

Seth dropped a hand and stepped back. ‘You think I'm lying to you. About everything.’

‘That about sums it up.’

He shot a hand through his hair and cursed under his breath. ‘You’re the only female nephilim that’s existed, Lora. Are you really not interested in the slightest about what you could accomplish?’

I gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘Not as much as you are.’

‘You could achieve so many great things.’

‘With chaos magic? I talked about this hot-stuff power with Orella. You can’t control chaos magic. You know, hence the name “chaos”.’

‘You’re stronger than you think,’ Seth argued. ‘All you need to do is learn how to harness it. You wouldn’t have to do it alone. I could help you.’

‘Sing that tune for someone else.’ My knuckles went white around my cane. ‘I'm not buying.’

‘What about The Key of Aldebaran?’ Seth’s voice was suspiciously light.

My eyes narrowed to slits. That rotten little book of spells was what had started this whole mess. Written by a mad warlock, its pages contained spells for powerful chaos magic, with a rambling prophecy that claimed the blood of a female angel would be the key to its spells. Catch was, female angels didn’t exist. The prophecy also apparently talked about a woman called the Dreadwitch, who would fight a creature called the Howling King. What this all meant for me? Well, technically, I had angel blood in me, so technically, my blood fuelled the spells. What else this meant for me? That zero fucks were given. My destiny included buying expensive shoes on sale, a full beer tankard, and a good game of dice.

‘What about the Aldebaran?’ I asked.

Seth shrugged. ‘What happens when another madman gets a copy of it and realises your blood can unleash all sorts magics?’ He shook his head. ‘You know, I'd have thought you’d want to take charge of your destiny. Use this situation to your own advantage. Carve something out for yourself.’ He made a sharp, exasperated gesture. ‘Instead, you’re still working as a Runner for Blackgoat, as if nothing happened. A lowly mercenary for hire. Just waiting to get mixed up in the next disaster.’

I flushed, feeling like a petulant child, unable or unwilling to control their own destiny. Didn’t quite match the strong, independent image I worked hard to project. I rubbed my eyes, exhausted. There’s only so much hard truth a girl likes to hear in one day.

‘We’re done here.’ I turned and began to walk away.

‘Wait.’ Seth touched my shoulder, stopping me. ‘I've found out something I thought you might be interested in.’

Against my better judgement, I paused. ‘What?’

‘I know the location of a copy.’

‘Of the Aldebaran? Where?’ I instantly regretted giving away more than I'd wanted to reveal. After all, I thought my enquiries had been discrete enough. My plan was simple. Find all copies of that stupid book and burn them. No more grimoires containing chaos magic spells meant peaceful nights for me.

Seth held a finger up. ‘I want to help you, but I want something in return.’

Here it was. The catch. Of course he’d want payment; Seth’s services usually had a price, sooner or later.

‘I want a favour I can call on,’ he said.

Suspicion blanketed my mind. ‘What kind of favour are we talking about? Wouldn’t you just prefer money?’

‘You couldn’t afford me.’ Seth gave a low, sexy laugh. One that I wasn’t falling for anymore. ‘Relax. I won’t ask for the world.’

I rolled a shoulder, like I wasn’t bothered. ‘As long as it doesn’t involve me getting naked, I'm sure we can work out a deal. I agree to your terms.’

Seth gave me a smug smile, eyes lingering on my mouth. ‘I'll set the meeting up and let you know the details. It will involve some travel.’

‘Where is it?’

‘The Outlands, if you can believe it,’ he said.

‘Fine by me.’

Seth walked back to his horse and untied the reins. ‘You want a lift?’

I ignored the question and limped towards the city to the soundtrack of Seth’s laughter. He knew I hated horses; a horse riding accident as a child had left me half-lame. Since then, I preferred my transport with wheels, a driver and some privacy. My thoughts tumbled over each other. Whatever Seth’s intentions were towards me, one thing was certain: the bastard couldn’t be trusted.

My old haunt, the Mermaid’s Cleft, had burned down during a recent fire. The blaze had started in Abraham’s Alley and swept through Applecross. Repairs had began in earnest soon after the fire was put out, though some efforts showed more enthusiasm than others. Here and there, hessian tarps covered roofs, with new timber criss-crossing old panels and bracing partially burnt-out structures; short-term measures that would, no doubt be there for years to come. I'd heard a rumour that the owner of the Cleft had seized the opportunity to set fire to the bar himself, thankful to be rid of the place.

Growlers was the next best hangout, a dirty saloon where the city’s miscreants liked to drink and gamble their time away. I fit right in.

Entering the bar, I kept a sharp eye out for Cloete. I figured we were going to share a beverage or two with a salute to the not-so-dearly departed. Searching the thin crowd, I spied her tucked in a back corner, sitting with three women who looked right at home among the rough wharf-rats and sailors. Two of the women were otherkin, while the third woman looked like a full-blood succubus.

Cloete waved me over. I checked the room as I approached, keeping an eye open for anyone who might be up for a game later on. Cloete indicated I should sit next to her and then motioned the barmaid for a beer. ‘How are you, Lora?’

Suspicious of her overly friendly tone, I grunted. I was trying to figure out what game Cloete was playing, because I was pretty sure I didn’t want to join in.

‘Let me introduce my sisters and my mother.’ Cloete indicated towards the two otherkin women at the table. ‘This is Melody and Chai.’

Melody looked almost human up close, save for her eyes, ringed a brilliant red and yellow. She wore shredded jeans, leopard skin heels and a black boob tube. Her hair was a shock of pink, her skin pale alabaster. Her smile was friendly as she lifted a hand and we shook amicably.

‘Well met,’ she said. ‘We’ve all heard so much about you.’

‘Well met, Melody.’ I smiled, my polite-pants pulled tight.

The second woman, Chai, looked like she’d been pounded with the ugly stick. Her nose was a short snout, with gnarled horns jutting from her forehead and ears that stuck out like jug handles. Her right knuckles were tattooed with letters that spelt out F-U-C-K while the other hand spelt Y-O-U. Her pinkie was missing and I hoped it hadn’t been to accommodate the tattoo.

‘Well met, Chai.’ I didn’t offer my hand. The way she was glaring at me, I wasn’t sure I'd get it back. Chai’s stare slid from angry to furious when I didn’t look away.

‘What are you staring at, Witch Hunter?’ she snarled.

I didn’t blink. ‘I'm not a Witch Hunter. I'm sure Cloete would have told you that.’ Witch Hunters were easily spotted by their shock of white hair, so I could understand the confusion, but no way did I want to be associated with those who hunted so-called heretics and trained in the art of church sanctioned magic.

‘Chai.’ The older woman spoke. Chai’s eyes dropped instantly to the table, shoulders hunching. ‘You’ll have to excuse my Chai, she doesn’t like meeting new people.’ The older woman’s voice was deep and sultry. She had a head of dreadlocks, with two sleek horns curling up from her temples. Small brass charms entwined her hair and chimed when she moved. A necklace of eye-teeth circled her neck and thick jade bracelets clasped her wrists.