Chaos Bound (8 page)

I smirked. ‘Happens to me once a month as well.’

Fowler ignored the quip. ‘You would be wise to avoid forming any bonds.’

‘If you’re looking for a pinkie swear, you’re wasting your breath.’

‘I hope you heed my words, Lady Blackgoat.’

‘Relax. I'm heeding, I'm heeding.’

With an irritated sigh, Fowler jerked the door open for me. I slipped out with a grin. I could be an annoying bitch when I wanted to be.

Roman was waiting for me, arms crossed, face tight. When I appeared, some of the tension left his posture, arms falling by his sides.

‘You’ll escort Lady Blackgoat directly home, Regulator,’ Fowler called from behind me.

Roman gave him a crisp nod and I served Fowler a mock salute. He gave me a weary look before closing his door. When we were alone, Roman turned to me, curiosity burning in his dark eyes. ‘Everything all right?’

A sense of caution kept my answer flippant. ‘Just fine, though I think Grigori Fowler needs a lie down.’

‘You don’t like him much, do you?’

My eyes widened. ‘He’s Grigori. You are aware of how they’re viewed in Applecross, right? You know: raving religious naysayers and killers of all that is fun.’

‘The Grigori are devout to their cause. They are honourable men.’

My retort was a snarl. ‘They hunt those they deem heretics. Who gave them the right to judge? You know what they do to heretics?’

‘What I do.’ Roman’s words were gentle, but the reminder was like a slap. He was right. The Grigori were the word, the Regulators the might. Feeling the air close in, I quickly limped off, wanting to get back to the safety of home.

‘Wait, Lora.’ Roman hurried after me, and I slowed, leaning heavy on my cane. Fowler’s chair had done my hips and bad leg no favours. Fucking Grigori. They tortured you even when they didn’t mean to. ‘Do you have plans for tonight?’ he asked.

‘There’s a fancy party I'm apparently going to tomorrow night, but my books are free tonight.’

‘I want to show you something. Will you come with me?’

His words were earnest, reminding me of the fragile trust that was growing between us. I eyed him suspiciously. Fowler’s words about friendships with nephilim had echoed Orella’s and their warnings hadn’t fallen on deaf ears. I hadn’t forgotten how dangerous the nephilim were, even while I reminded myself that I was nephilim, too. But I wasn’t crazy. Yet, a snarky inner voice added. I wasn’t crazy yet.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be taking me directly home?’ I asked.

‘What I want to show you isn’t far outside the city walls,’ Roman said. ‘I can have you home by midnight. I promise you’ll be impressed.’

We walked in silence until we were outside and in the front courtyard again. The sun was descending and shadows pulled at the buildings about us. I wanted to believe in Roman, as much as I wanted to believe I could control my own destiny. If Roman was redeemable from the ruthless image I'd had of nephilim, then maybe there was also hope for me.

‘What do you want to show me?’ I asked. ‘Because right now, your invitation sounds like a bad pick-up line.’

Roman gave me an amused smile. ‘I can assure you, your honour is safe with me.’

I smiled back. ‘Oh honey, that ship sailed a long time ago.’

The air was colder outside the city walls, the sunset a dome of blazing orange and violet. We left the city through a well-known smugglers entrance, manned by a good-natured otherkin with scalloped ears and an easy smile. I was surprised Roman knew of the entrance, being the law abiding citizen he was. The otherkin’s smile had disappeared when he spied Roman’s uniform, but returned after I paid him well for passage.

Now we were following a winding dirt road that led into to the western forest, snow-peaked mountains rearing up in the distance. And … we were on a horse.

‘I don’t like horses.’ I sat behind Roman, my hands wrapped around him in a death grip. My cane was tucked in the back of my work-belt, and I'd chewed on some painkillers to numb my hips after Fowler’s torture chair.

‘You keep saying that,’ Roman murmured. It sounded like the bastard was smiling.

We approached the edge of the forest, populated with old pines and bracken. Swallows looped and whirled overhead, calling to each other in the fading light.

I looked back at the city over my shoulder. Lamps glittered along the city wall tops, a comforting glow of civilisation. A civilisation we were leaving. I wondered what had possessed me to come. Morbid curiosity? Something more?

Roman had steadfastly refused to reveal what he planned to show me. I could see from the way he had watched me, waiting for my answer, that it mattered. So I'd agreed to go with him, even when we’d gone to the stables and he’d announced our transport would be of the four-legged variety. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or mortified when it turned out we had to share the only spare horse available.

‘What about bandits?’ My arms tightened around him, feeling as if the trees were closing in around us. ‘I've heard there are bandits in this forest.’

Roman’s shoulders shifted up and down. ‘I've never had a problem. Probably the uniform puts them off. The Order of Guides tends to frown on anyone trying to kill their Regulators.’

‘So we’ve established you’re safe from marauding tree pirates. Too bad I don’t have a nifty uniform.’

‘I think Fowler would have you stitched up in one, if you ever had the inclination to join the ranks.’

‘I think I'd rather wear a bridle and saddle.’

‘I think I'd like to see that.’

‘You’re hilarious. Where are we going?’

‘You’ll see.’

‘Is it much further?’

‘Not far now.’

‘Because I want to get off this horse.’

‘I know.’ Roman’s shoulders shifted as he guided the horse sharply to the right.

‘You’ve gone off the road,’ I told him. ‘Do you know that? You’ve gone off the road.’

‘I know.’

‘You do also know what else is around here, right?’

‘I do.’

‘The Swamp of Rot. We’re not heading for it, right?’

‘Lora. Be quiet and trust me.’

I bit my lip, reminding myself the walk back to the city would be a pain in my backside, as well as my sore hip. Besides, I didn’t have a magical uniform to ward off bandits. Why Roman would be taking me towards the Swamp of Rot was beyond madness. I could already smell its toxic fumes mixing with the sweet pine smell of the forest.

We travelled a little further, the horse weaving between the pines that gradually became twisted and bent. The acrid smell strengthened and I gagged a few times, knowing we couldn’t be far from the swamp now.

Then, just as the horse’s hooves squelched into boggy ground, we stopped at the base of a rocky incline. The horse hesitated. Roman made some encouraging clucking noises and guided him up a narrow path among the rocks.

A cave entrance appeared half way up, a narrow slice of darkness in the limestone. I scowled, and it crossed my mind to slide off the horse with as much dignity as I could muster and stomp back to the city. Roman chuckled as if he could sense my thoughts. Mashing my teeth together, I willed myself to keep my complaints to a minimum.

We stopped just outside the cave. Roman dismounted and lifted me down with an easy grace. He took the horse’s reins in one hand and beckoned me to follow. The horse shied nervously, looking as reluctant as I felt. Roman paused to rub its nose, making soothing noises before coaxing into the darkness. I watched them disappear, pretty sure rubbing my nose wasn’t going to make me any more enthusiastic about this cave business.

‘I must be insane,’ I grumbled and stepped into the gloom, pulling my cane from my belt. I'd seen movies in the Outlands where people went in caves. They never ended well, what with the blood-sucking cave monsters and everything. One of the problems with The Weald was that the blood-sucking cave monsters could be real.

‘Just walk straight ahead.’ Roman’s voice came from somewhere in the dark.

Blinking, I waited until my eyes adjusted and saw we were in a short tunnel. A dim light dusted my arms, and I saw glow-worms nestled tight in the limestone. The air smelled of damp dirt, the ground uneven and laced with plant roots and mossy rocks.

I quickened my pace, my cane helping me over the rocky obstacles. Roman and the horse were silhouetted against the dim light ahead and I caught up, finally stepping out of the cave and into fresh air.

A grassy clearing sprawled before me, tinted in the warm tones of the descending sun. We were still within the rocky hill, but the clearing was open to the sky. In the dimming light, I could make out thick patches of buttery daffodils and spots of maple saplings, their branches bursting with spring green. Something that looked like a small shelter in white stone and wood was propped next to a sturdy looking sapling. Near it, a ring of stones outlined a well-worn fire-pit.

Walking through the field, my feet landed on a cluster of frothy, long-stemmed flowers and the smell of garlic tinged the air, making my mouth water.

Roman joined me, looking smug. ‘Nice, isn’t it?’

‘Who else knows of this place?’ I asked.

‘No-one.’ He tethered the horse near the shelter. ‘I found it when I was young and prone to sneaking off by myself. Not many people came this way, being so near to the swamp.’ He took a deep breath. ‘But the air is sweet in here. Always has been.’

I eyed the shelter, which tilted to one side. ‘Did you build that?’

‘I'm a soldier, not a builder,’ Roman said defensively. He walked over to it. ‘This has been standing for ten years now.’ He clapped a hand against a stone. ‘Solid as the day I built it.’ The shelter gave a shudder and he leapt back in surprise. I laughed and Roman looked sheepish. ‘I usually just sleep in the open.’

I drifted over to the small stream that wove through the field and crouched, letting my fingers tickle the icy cold water. ‘Why are we here, Regulator?’

‘I wanted to show you a safe place,’ he said. ‘A place you could come, if you needed to. It’s where I go when I feel the walls close in.’

His words threaded a thin ribbon of worry through me. Since when did nephilim feel trapped? They were raised to obey the Grigori. No exceptions.

When I stood, Roman was close. My body sensed how warm and inviting he was, and I took a breath, inching away. As if sensing my inner struggle to keep away from him, Roman’s face broke out into a smile.

‘I'll get a fire going so we can eat,’ he said.

I rubbed my stomach. ‘Now you’re talking.’

I sucked my fingers, savouring the rich juice of cooked rabbit. Roman sat near me, prodding the fire with a stick. Yellow sparks leapt into the night as the wood crackled and popped.

‘Had enough to eat?’ Roman threw his stick into the fire and watched the flames devour it with an absent expression.

‘Yes.’ I leant back against a log, my hair catching on the rough bark. My eyes were heavy-lidded and I joined Roman in watching the fire dance.

‘Drink?’ Roman pulled a flask from a pocket and held it towards me.

I eyed it warily. ‘What is it?’

‘Cinnamon schnapps.’

I wasn’t a fan of any schnapps, but sometimes a drink was a drink. Sitting up, I accepted the flask, took a quick shot, and grimaced at the earthy, bitter taste. Screwing the lid back on, I tossed it back.

‘Tell me, Regulator.’ I kept upright, knowing if I leant back again, I was probably going to fall asleep. ‘Did you ever dream of doing something else with your life? You know, instead of hunting and killing heretics?’

I waited to see if he’d respond with the anger I'd always attributed to nephilim. I knew I was baiting him, but in my sleepiness, I felt reckless.

Roman gave me a resigned look. ‘I was born into this life. Bred by the Order. Raised to follow orders. Taught how to kill. I've never known anything else. It is the same with all nephilim. It’s the destiny we are all bound to.’

I looked into his eyes, deep pools of shadow. There was a tension strung tight between us, one I couldn’t deny. My body hummed when I was close to him. I hadn’t felt it with the other nephilim, back at the Order. So what was so different about Roman? What would it feel like to have his body pressed up against mine? Those lips that rarely smiled pressing kisses down my neck? I wanted to meow at the scene playing out in my head, but decided that was probably the wrong signal to send at this point.

I changed the subject. ‘What was the fuss about earlier? You have students now? When did this happen?’

Roman sat a little straighter. ‘I resigned my Sergeant position. I am no longer part of the Hunter units.’

My eyes widened. ‘Were you demoted?’

‘No. I applied for a position as an instructor to the young nephilim, teaching them how to handle their strength. The application was approved, and I resigned from my unit.’

‘Why?’ I asked.

‘The role of Sergeant is a distinguished one.’ Roman’s voice turned rough and halting. He was hiding something, but I didn’t understand what. ‘However, I decided I wanted to lead in a different sense. The nephilim who are coming of age need strong guidance. That’s something I can provide.’ He paused to lick his lips. ‘I understand the darkness they struggle with. I know I can help them.’

‘Kid wrangling sounds okay, I guess.’

‘Why don’t you trust Grigori Fowler?’ Roman asked abruptly.

I flashed a dimple. ‘A finely honed instinct.’

‘Are you concerned he might have a copy of The Key of Aldebaran?’ Roman persisted. ‘That he is trying to trick you into something?’

‘I don’t think so.’ I shook my head. ‘I believe Fowler when he says he doesn’t have a copy. I just don’t like the idea of being told what to do.’

‘You take orders from Gideon.’

‘Well, sure, but that’s different.’

‘How?’

‘I trust Gideon… Most of the time.’

‘If it made you feel any better, I could help you find the copies of the Aldebaran.’ Roman threw a couple more sticks into the fire, watching as sparks flew up into the night. ‘I heard there might be one in the city of Thesma. I have friends there who could ask around, as a favour to me.’