Chaos Bound Page 6

  I tensed as he walked around me and down the colonnade, grey cloak swaying. My nerves sang a high tune, jaw aching from clenching my teeth. When the nephilim was out of sight, I blew out a long, relieved breath.

  Mental fucking nephilim.

  I'd have to be insane to think about getting involved with one of them. But Roman seemed different. He wasn’t anything like the monsters I associated with his kind. His kind. My kind. Sheesh. I hurried back, anxious to return before Roman realised I'd gone.

  As I rounded a corner, strong hands gripped my arm from behind. I pinched salt, expecting Locan’s stiff smile. I was ready to shower the bastard with a world of hurt, when my ears were blasted with an angry curse.

  ‘Where did you go?’ Roman crowded my personal space.

  ‘Stretching my legs.’ I twisted out of his hold.

  Roman relaxed, then looked around. ‘Everyone is supposed to be at prayers, but I thought I heard voices. Who were you talking to?’

  ‘If you must know, some nephilim by the name of Locan.’ I arched an eyebrow. ‘He said that I belong to you. Don’t suppose you know anything about that?’

  Roman rubbed the back of his neck in an awkward gesture. ‘I might have given that impression.’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘Only for your safety. Rumours are spreading about what you are, and I thought it would be better they think you are…taken.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Sure. Apparently I'm a taken woman now.’

  ‘You’re angry.’

  ‘Why would I be angry? Just because you think I'm too weak to stand on my own. Why would I get angry about that?’

  ‘I'm sorry.’

  I limped away. ‘Just take me to Fowler’s office. I don’t want to stay here a moment longer than I have to.’

  Roman said nothing more as he led me into an administration building and up a staircase. On the second floor, we exited into a long corridor lined with closed doors and brass name plaques. We stopped at one, and Roman rapped his knuckles against the solid wood. A reply came and Roman opened the door, gesturing for me to enter. I took a breath, knowing this was bad idea, but at least Roman had my back. After all, he’d helped me in the past and that got him a lot of brownie points. Even if he was spreading dubious rumours about me belonging to him.

  Roman gave me a reassuring look. I found myself half smiling back, but it dropped when I recalled that Roman was probably the 'little bird' who had told Locan I was nephilim in the first place. I looked away and stepped inside the room.

  Grigori Fowler’s office was starkly devoid of any finery. The floor was bare, the furniture simple, and an incense bowl sat on a window sill. The only real decoration was a framed watercolour on the wall: a landscape painted in weary greys. Fowler sat behind the desk, scribbling with a fountain pen. He put it down as I entered and rose to his feet. He was tall, with a pallid complexion and sunken features save for a prominent aquiline nose, silver hair brushed back and eyes shining bright over a razor-sharp smile.

  ‘Lady Blackgoat.’ He walked around his desk to take my hand, dark robes brushing the floor. His skin was cold and rough, making me think of a loose animal hide. ‘Thank you so much for accepting my invitation. On such short notice, as well.’

  ‘Happy to oblige.’ I tried to shrug off my nerves.

  ‘Please, take a seat.’ Fowler indicated an uncomfortable wooden chair in front of his desk. I sat, cane between my legs. Fowler returned behind his desk, when he noticed Roman still in the doorway. Surprise flittered across his face. ‘Regulator. Thank you for escorting Lady Blackgoat safely here. You can wait outside now.’

  The door clicked shut behind me, and Fowler’s face smoothed out. He sat down, thin lips pressed together like he wasn’t happy about something. I wondered if he had only just realised I was a bad influence on Roman.

  I got straight to the point. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘No polite conversation first, then?’ Fowler sighed. ‘I remember that of you at our first meeting.’

  ‘If you want to sit here and talk about the weather, we can. It’s your coin.’

  ‘Fine, Lady Blackgoat,’ he paused. ‘May I call you Lora?’

  ‘No.’

  He gave a cool chuckle. ‘We shall keep things formal, then.’ He steepled his fingers under his chin. ‘I want to try to convince you to join the Order of Guides, Lora. I'm sure that once you get past our cultural differences, you’d discover we aren’t so different.’

  My hip complained at the hard seat and I shifted. ‘Last I remember, one of your own used my blood to wreak chaos in the city.’

  Fowler nodded. ‘If you recall, I had no part in that. Neither did the Order.’

  ‘No. A member of the Brotherhood of the Red Hand, did. A group you’re a member of.’

  ‘I have retreated from active duty in the Brotherhood of the Red Hand.’ Fowler paused, then added, ‘I discovered we did not seem to have the same goals.’

  ‘I didn’t think your precious Red Hand was the sort of organisation you could retire from.’

  ‘It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with. The Brotherhood of the Red Hand is an old, secret organisation within the Order, Lora —’

  ‘Lady Blackgoat.’

  ‘— and their opportunity for greatness has passed. It is now populated by elderly men who are more concerned with their status in life than the greater good. They won’t be bothering you again.’

  ‘Why is that?’ I asked suspiciously.

  Fowler’s cold eyes met mine. ‘Because I told them not to, and my will is the word they follow.’

  A chill blew down my spine. I wasn’t sure what kind of role Fowler played within the Brotherhood of the Red Hand, nor how powerful they really were. I'd only met one other of their own, and that acquaintance had ended with me killing him.

  ‘I won’t deny you intrigue me, Lady Blackgoat. The blood you have in your veins may be more valuable than any amount of coin.’ Fowler tapped his fingertips together. ‘With the right key, of course.’

  ‘The Key of Aldebaran was destroyed.’ My voice was flat. I guess I knew this conversation was inevitable, but my patience was starting to wear thin.

  ‘There will always be others,’ Fowler said smoothly.

  I thought of Seth’s offer, and wondered if he was still going to come through with the meeting with his collector friend. Whatever the owner of the book wanted, I'd find the money to buy it. I was going to destroy all those damned books, even if it ruined me.

  ‘If you joined our ranks, you could easily keep up the illusion of being a Witch Hunter. We could create a cover story as to why you’ve come to work with us, something that would help you save face within your community. Together, we could test your strengths and weaknesses. I know about nephilim nature. I could help you. Teach you.’

  ‘No.’ The word flew from my lips almost before Fowler had finished talking.

  He lowered his hands to the table, as if he’d expected my answer. ‘I would simply ask that you think about it.’

  ‘No.’

  Fowler’s features pulled into a mask of displeasure. ‘I can help you, Lora, as you change.’

  My shoulders pulled tight. ‘I don’t plan on changing.’

  His eyes flicked to my hair. ‘You may have no choice in the matter.’

  I swallowed a few times, my hands tucking into my armpits. ‘I'm going to stay the same person I was, before all this started.’

  Fowler nodded, as if he sympathised. ‘I understand your reluctance. After all, you were raised to view the Order as the enemy. Just promise me you’ll think on my offer. The day may come when you need a powerful friend.’ His lips stretched wide. ‘And this is me, extending the hand of friendship. You would be wise not to slap it away.’

  ‘I'll give it some thought,’ I said with as much politeness I could muster. I figured if I didn’t at least pretend to consider the offer, Fowlers next move might be to trot out threats. You won
’t co-operate? How about a night on one of our racks? Or some acupuncture in our Iron Maiden? We have the best views from our prisons and the rats are very friendly.

  Fowler stood. ‘I respect your decision.’

  I got to my feet also, unsure what tack he was taking. Smother me with kindness, before driving the knife in my back? Fowler escorted me to the door, hand pausing on the handle.

  ‘Before you go, a word of warning. It is inevitable that the nephilim here will learn of your existence, if they haven’t already.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I would strongly advise against entertaining thoughts of friendship. Nephilim are trained to forsake their feelings at a very young age. Left unchecked, they are prone to emotional outbursts and violent tempers.’

  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.’

  Chapter 9

  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.’