Chaos Bound (32 page)

‘I really hope you’re still in there somewhere, Reuben,’ I whispered.

My fingers crept towards the pocket where I'd secured the pinch of dirt. It wasn’t much. It wasn’t pure. But it was something, as opposed to fucking nothing.

Crowhurst saw my hand move, and snapped his teeth at me. Warm saliva flecked my neck and my hand froze in place. The shouting around us rose. Crowhurst looked around uneasily, taking in the audience beyond. Neither of us saw Roman move.

Crowhurst sensed him at the last moment and turned, but not before striking me with a huge paw. I hit the cage bars and my breath slammed from my lungs. My lame leg yelped in pain and I looked down to see the flesh of my thigh impaled on one of the bars spikes. Giving a small scream, I pulled my leg free, feeling blood soak my jeans.

Hand pressed tight over the wound, I saw Roman and Crowhurst circling each other warily: Crowhurst snapping his teeth, Roman’s face full of dark fury. They circled each other twice, then charged, crashing together in a wrestling embrace.

‘Lora!’

Something thudded inside the cage just behind me. I turned to see my work-belt lying on the ground, as if all my birthday wishes had come at once. I looked up to see Nicola at the edge of the platform, her lips peeled back and eyes fierce. Kebble was staring at Nicola, face aghast.

‘I got it for you,’ Nicola yelled down at me. ‘I found it, and got it for you!’

Then Grogan was there, twisting her arm to pull her back. Hope blooming in my chest, I snatched up my belt and buckled it on.

Roman and Crowhurst were so preoccupied with each other that they hadn’t noticed the new development. Deep scratches covered Roman’s chest, and one of Crowhurst’s arms dangled by his side, looking broken. None of it mattered though, because I had my mojo back, and I was ready to rock. I flipped open a pouch and my fingers scraped the bottom of the leather. Empty. I tried other pockets, finding them also emptied of salt, though my throwing knife was still sheathed at the belt’s back, and my garrotte wire curled up in the pocket underneath. The very last pocket I tried, my fingers touched some Sucker Punch Special and my heart soared. There wasn’t much, but I hoped it was enough.

I pinched some of the coarse grains, my eyes narrowed on the fighting males. I knew strong hexes. I could knock a man unconscious. I could make him think he was covered in scorpions. But would that magic work through the violent haze both men were locked in?

Flicking a wrist, I cast and the mixture flew through the air in a fizzle of red. The spell missed Crowhurst, hitting Roman, and the nephilim went down with a grunt, falling on his back with a dazed expression.

Crowhurst’s beast sensed the new threat and charged me. I tossed a second lot of Sucker Punch and my hex slammed into him. His clawed feet dug at the floor, muscles popping as he fought the shove of power. Then the spell lost its surge and faded into a wisp of smoke.

Crowhurst fixed me with a baleful glare, then came at me again. I had enough time to pinch the last of the Sucker Punch, but not enough to cast before one of Crowhurst’s great thumping paws whacked into me again. My back slammed into the bars a second time, though I thankfully missed any further injury on the spikes. Tears of pain blurred my vision and I swore, realising I'd scattered the last of my Sucker Punch.

Wiping my eyes clear, I saw Crowhurst watch me, like he was waiting for me to run. I had the eerie sense he was playing with me, like a cat smacking around a mouse before killing it. Though I should have known better, I had hoped I would see some of Reuben inside the beast, but only a bloodthirsty predator stared back. He was just a big, hairy shark that was seconds away from ripping my arms off and playing the bongos on my chest with them.

Behind Crowhurst, Roman got shakily to his feet.

‘You don’t want me,’ I shouted at the griorwolf, and waving to the crowd around us. ‘Why don’t you go and eat those horrible people up there?’ Then my lame leg gave way and I fell.

The griorwolf started to walk towards me before Roman tackled him from behind, and they both fell to the ground. Watching them wrestle, it took me a moment to realise what was different about Roman. He looked bigger, his back distorted with extra muscle. His fist swung out and he knocked the griorwolf to the ground in a punch that broke the beasts jaw.

I pulled out the dirt Elijah had given me and cast. The spell smoked a putrid green as it struck Crowhurst in the chest and he hit the bars with such force they bent, rattling the cage. The silver dragon overhead shuddered as if it were waking and Crowhurst collapsed, eyes rolling back.

Roman stood still, wide chest heaving in a quick rhythm. His once honeyed complexion was now a pale marble, with delicate blue veins lacing his skin. His black eyes slid to me. The audience was still cheering, but the sound was muted to a distant roar in my ears, my attention narrowed in on the nephilim.

‘Roman?’

His stare licked my skin with heat and want. What he wanted though, I wasn’t so sure. On instinct, I squinted and tried to pull his aura into focus. While I couldn’t read a nephilim’s aura, I had to try, to see if something had changed.

The air around Roman’s head blinked before a screaming vision of white and gold flooded my eyes. The colour swirled and changed, ripping apart in slashes of crimson and black. The image was beautiful and horrible at the same time, dark beauty and consuming madness. This, I knew, was the aura of a berserker. The stories of them were legendary; their incredible strength, bottomless rage, and insatiable bloodlust.

The vision blinked out and I knew Roman was gone. The one who’d said he loved me, who didn’t want anything from me, who didn’t have any agenda. The one I'd grown to love and trust was now lost to me. He was something else now. Poisoned by my blood, he’d become a monster, close to being consumed by madness.

‘I'm sorry,’ I said.

Roman’s eyes followed the tears that fell down my cheeks. ‘For what?’

I gave a startled sob and hope shot through me. If Roman still recognised me, maybe he was still whole. He stretched a hand to me, then frowned when he noticed his skin. He flexed his fingers before anguish filled his eyes. His body jerked as something heaved under his back, twisting his shoulders out of shape.

‘It’s all right.’ I took a step towards him. ‘I'm here.’

I wanted to call him my love, but the words got stuck in my throat. His transformation wasn’t finished. My fingers reached for the throwing knife at the back of my belt. ‘Everything is going to be all right.’

‘The hero is tormented.’ Kebble’s voice broke through the moment. ‘His berserker rage will soon know no bounds. Will he destroy the female Witch Hunter? Can he stop himself, as he loses his hold on his sanity? And what monster will he become, now the blood of a Witch Hunter runs through him?’

Roman doubled over, grabbing his stomach, his breath choppy. The swollen muscles in his back shifted and bowed, and he gave a cry of despair.

I palmed my knife and steeled my heart, watching the air ripple around Roman. A faint whine of otherworldly shrieking rose around us and it surged through me like a pulse of power, rising up from the ley-lines.

Roman cried out. There was a low, crunching sound, then the flesh on his back burst outward and jutting bones rose, covered in slick, bloody feathers. Roman screamed as the bones stretched, spanning wide. The knife fell from my hand and prayers to Kianna spilled from my lips as I watched Roman’s newborn wings shift and sway. The crowd had fallen into a shocked silence. Roman heaved in a laboured breath, then raised his head, his eyes burning chips of coal.

Through the rushing sound of panic in my ears, I heard Grogan shouting orders. Guess he knew a real money-spinner when he saw one. His shouting penetrated Roman’s daze and he looked up at the man responsible for this. Responsible for everything.

Roman’s muscles bunched, cords in his neck tensing, and with a rush of air, he launched himself at the nearest cage door and pulled.

The bars groaned under Roman’s hands. Iron squealed and the door hinges kinked inwards. Deckkart and Grogan shot to their feet, and Reapers surged around the cage, flintlocks raised.

‘Don’t kill it,’ Grogan shouted. ‘I need it alive.’

The door came loose in a shriek of metal and Roman tossed it aside. Underneath the blood, his wings looked to be a pale colour and they folded neatly behind him as he vaulted through the doorway. Despite Grogan’s warning, some pistols barked shots, but all missed their target, pinging against the metal bars.

Defying gravity, Roman jumped upwards to the platform, feet landing light, wings flicking out and shaking loose droplets of blood. Grogan stumbled back, face ashen. Seth moved in front of Deckkart in a shielding gesture, while Kebble cowered behind Nicola. I couldn’t see Maya, and figured she was smart enough to leave while she could.

Seth stepped forward, saying something to Roman, then nodded towards Grogan. Whatever Seth was trying to sell though, Roman wasn’t buying. Moving unnaturally fast, he grabbed Seth’s front and hurled him off the platform. Seth landed on the floor by the cage heavily, head bouncing off the ground.

Grogan came in and swung a punch at Roman, and the blow landed solidly on the Regulator’s jaw. Roman’s head barely moved. Grogan looked a little taken aback, then he shoved Deckkart in front of him, and ran, scrambling over chairs to get away. One of Roman’s hands wrapped around the Half-Skull Man’s neck and squeezed.

Footsteps sounded behind me. Before I could turn, an arm wrapped around my throat, cutting off my air and Maya’s voice was harsh in my ear.

‘This is for the death of my girl.’

I ducked my chin into the crook of her elbow, and sank my teeth into tender flesh. Biting down, I tasted the sickly sweet succubus blood. Maya howled and her hold loosened. Grabbing one of her fingers, I snapped it sideways, then twisted out of her weakened hold. Shifting behind her, I pulled out my garrotte wire. Maya tried to turn and face me, but I'd already looped the wire around her neck. I shoved a knee in her back and fell, using my body as a dead weight and Maya fell with me. My vision hazed into grey as I strained, feeling Maya’s back arch and her limbs flail.

Around us, I was dimly aware of screaming and stamping feet. I could hear someone roaring, someone that might have been Roman. Then some of the grey haze leaked from my vision, and I realised Maya wasn’t fighting anymore, and blood had soaked my hands. With effort, I unclenched my fingers and pushed Maya’s body off me, the garrotte still deep in her neck.

Leg dragging, I hurried over to Crowhurst and pressed two bloodstained fingers against his hairy neck, checking for a pulse. He hadn’t reverted to human form, and that worried me. His pulse was strong under my fingertips, but he was still out cold.

Looking around, I realised most of the audience had fled. The platform was deserted, and Roman was gone. There were no Reapers about either. I guessed they had sensed which way the wind was blowing and split. Elmore Deckkart was lying on the ground by the cage. His head had been ripped off and it sat beside his body, eyes wide and looking a little shocked. Seth sat nearby, holding one bloodied hand to his head.

I bent to take a wheellock holstered at Maya’s belt and nearly fell over, head spinning. Sucking in deep breath, I straightened and tucked the pistol into the back of my belt, then stepped out of the cage through the doorway Roman had ripped open.

I needed to sit down. Hellfires, I needed to lie down. Take a real long nap with some pain relief in the form of strong liquor. After all, it wasn’t every day you saw… Well… I wasn’t sure what I'd just seen. I also knew, whichever way Roman had gone, I had no hope of catching up with him.

Seth staggered towards me. Blood caked one side of his face, but his eyes were focused.

‘Want to tell me what the hell you’re doing here?’ I demanded.

‘I was working undercover.’ Seth stopped near me, and leant against the cage.

Running that logic through my mind, I found it sort of checked out. I wasn’t completely buying it, but it answered some of my more immediate questions.

‘Which way did Roman go?’ I asked.

‘Back down the tunnel, chasing Reapers,’ Seth answered.

‘What the hell happened to him?’

‘You did.’ Seth’s voice was brutal. ‘Your blood happened to him.’

I rubbed a trembling hand over my face, pushing hair out of my eyes that was damp with sweat. ‘Have you seen anything like that before?’

‘No, and I've seen quite a bit in my time.’ Seth nodded at something behind me. ‘You might want to check out what your sweet little Nicola is doing.’

Turning, I saw Nicola by the entrance. Her hands were wrapped around a flintlock and Ivor Grogan stood in her line of fire. He was talking to his daughter in a low, earnest voice, like his life depended on it. From the look on Nicola’s face, it probably did.

I hurried to her as fast as I could. ‘You don’t want to do that, Nicola.’

The gun wavered, but Nicola didn’t lower it. ‘He’s responsible for killing Tarn. You were right, Lora. I should have listened to you.’

I stopped a few paces from her, keeping my voice calm. ‘If you kill your father, it’s going to haunt you the rest of your days.’

‘It will haunt me if I don’t.’ Nicola’s voice boiled with rage. ‘He needs to die.’

‘You listened to me once, Nicola.’ I inched closer. ‘You trusted me once. Now trust me this one more time. Please. For the life of your child.’

‘Child?’ Grogan’s intake of breath sounded pained. ‘You’re with child?’

Agony passed over Nicola’s face and tears streaked fresh lines through her ruined makeup. ‘That’s right, and you killed the father.’

Grogan swallowed his disgusted look, probably because he’d just realised his daughter had more than enough reason to kill him. Seth stepped past me, hands raised to show he wasn’t armed. I wanted to warn him to get back, but held my tongue, not wanting to crowd Nicola. Whatever he was going to do, he’d just better do it right.

‘Nicola, you know me. You know I work for the City Watch.’ Seth sounded calm, in control. ‘You can trust me. Your father will pay for everything he’s done, but not by your hand. That judgement is not for you to decide.’