Chaos Broken (11 page)

Her eyes narrowed. ‘What is it? What did you find?'

‘I really can't say. This is an official investigation, after all.'

Henner humphed, but saw me out, sniffing loudly in an insulted fashion as we went.

Outside the orphanage, my thoughts tripped over themselves, shouting questions. Did the image of Seth belong to Kalin? If so, did that mean Seth was his benefactor? Or something more? I knew I needed to talk to Seth and grill him about what his relationship was with Kalin. Then I wanted him to explain to me how this yellow-eyed boy had become a cold-blooded killer.

I was standing outside the orphanage, trying to decide what to do, when a car honk jolted me from my thoughts. I looked up to see Crowhurst parked nearby in his natty little clockwork car. He got out and leaned on the hood, looking amused.

‘What are you doing here?' I asked.

‘Looking for you. You know you've been standing in that same spot for nearly a minute, face all blank, mouth all droopy like.'

‘That's my thinking face,' I said.

‘I thought it was a stroke.' He gestured to the car. ‘Get in. You've got an appointment to get to.'

‘What kind of appointment?' I asked suspiciously.

‘Forgotten already? I'm taking you to Nicola's theatre company to meet her playwright. If we all get along, the project will get the go ahead.'

My hand froze on the car handle as I recalled my decision to go ahead with this play nonsense. ‘You know, I'm not sure I can do it. I don't want to sit in a circle, hold the talking stick and discuss my first period.' My voice lowered. ‘I don't play well with others.'

Crowhurst popped his door. ‘You can handle it, so just shut up and get in, alright?'

Hesitating, I ran a couple of scenarios through my head, but most of them ended with me having to explain to Gideon why I sent Blackgoat crashing into the ground. I got in, grumbling under my breath.

Crowhurst gunned the car and threw me a grin. ‘There's my girl. Fearless in the face of always present danger.' He paused as he pulled out onto the road, then asked, ‘What was on your mind before? Must have been pretty important for you to have a daydreaming seizure. Only time I've seen you stand still that long is when you've been deciding whether to throw up or order another drink.' He glanced my way, giving me a suggestive wink. ‘Were you perhaps having gushy thoughts about a certain nephilim?'

‘No. I wasn't,' I said. ‘And it's not something I want to discuss right now.'

Crowhurst's smile faded. He returned his attention to the road in time to swerve around a pig straying on the road. ‘Sure thing, boss. Just teasing.'

‘Uh huh.' I wound down the window and let the air ruffle my curls. The old, faded image of Seth wouldn't leave me. If he was Kalin's benefactor, why all the secrecy? And if he was a relative, why did he turn his back on his own flesh and blood?

Our destination was an industrial area, located near the Gypsy Quarter and three blocks from the harbour. Crowhurst parked outside a large building that had bamboo scaffolding around a sweeping sign that read,
Bethlar Theatre
. A tiny goblin with a bulbous nose stood outside, smoking a pipe.

‘We're not hiring,' he said when we approached.

‘And we're not looking,' I said. ‘We've already got a job.'

‘Oh yeah?' His eyes rolled over my hair and curiosity sparked in his eyes. He took the pipe out his mouth and waved it at me. ‘You the Witch Hunter, then?'

‘I'm not a Witch Hunter. I've just been dying my hair.' I pointed at the black roots. ‘See?'

The otherkin looked at me like I was mad, then nodded towards the open front doors. ‘I'm one of the stagehands of this disaster. Go on inside, they're waiting for you.'

‘Oh, lovely.' I turned to Crowhurst. ‘You hear that? He's a stage hand of this
disaster
.'

Crowhurst pushed me inside. ‘What would he know about art? Besides, coin shines all the same, no matter where it comes from.'

‘You only get one reputation,' I protested. ‘And mine is the one that's going to suffer at the hands of this mess.'

‘Lora, I'd wager that your reputation has already suffered enough damage that this little venture won't do it any further harm.'

Muttering under my breath, I looked around. Inside, the space stretched to an ornate plaster ceiling, seats with tired-looking padding rising in tiers. Crimson curtains covered the walls and spluttering gas lamps faced the stage. People darted about with rolls of fabric, armloads of tiles and buckets of paint. Nicola stood on the stage, talking to a man behind a harpsichord. The man wore a coat that appeared to be made completely out of lace and he occasionally pressed a key as Nicola spoke. When Nicola saw us approach, she clapped her hands and hurried down off the stage.

‘Thank you for coming.' Nicola engulfed me in a warm hug, half spinning me around, and I tried not to go stiff. I wasn't exactly a hugger. From over Nicola's shoulder I could see Crowhurst silently urging me to pat her back.

Moron.

Nicola drew back, concern in her face. ‘Are you alright? I heard you got mixed up in something nasty yesterday with the City Watch.'

‘I'm fine,' I told her. ‘No problems at all.'

Her smile returned. ‘Good.'

‘Show Lora what you showed me,' Crowhurst told Nicola. ‘She'll love it.'

‘Show me what?' My eyes bounced between them.

Nicola nodded at my cane. ‘Can I borrow that?'

I hesitated, then handed it over.

Nicola drew back a little. A deep scowl settled on her face, before she drew my blade in one swift movement, baring her teeth in a snarl. ‘Eat dirt, gutter-trash.'

There was a pause, then Nicola's shoulders relaxed and she sheathed my sword. Crowhurst clapped loudly.

‘With a wig, I'd never be able to tell you apart,' he said.

‘I'm sure I don't talk like that,' I said faintly.

Nicola handed my cane back. ‘I'll be even more convincing when I'm in costume. Now come on, I want you to meet my writer.'

She pulled me up on the stage and over to where the man in the lace jacket sat, fingers dancing lightly on the keys. ‘Lora, this is Roosen. He'll be the one who'll be…' Nicola paused as she searched for the right words, ‘…extracting information about your past and creating an engaging narrative.'

‘That sounds painful and I'm not sure I'm that interesting,' I said. A tight feeling was beginning to pull in my chest, making it hard for me to catch my breath.

‘What about that time you fought a hellspawn in a dug-out pit with two Regulators?' Crowhurst asked.

‘Ooh, yes.' Nicola clapped her hands. ‘Things like that.'

‘I don't understand.' It was getting harder to breath now and spots danced across my vision. ‘Why can't you just make it up? What do you need me for?'

Roosen hit a few low, ominous chords, as if foretelling future disaster. His fingers paused on the keys, the last note vibrating through the air. ‘What do we need you for?' He looked over at Nicola. ‘Is she serious?'

Nicola gave me a small, nervous smile. Crowhurst positioned himself behind Roosen and gave me two thumbs up. I realised with dawning horror that I needed to charm this fat little man, in his lace jacket and boots with toes that were far too pointy to be comfortable. He stood and approached me, heels producing a little metallic click against the floorboards. When he drew close I saw he was otherkin, with skin the colour of toffee and peaked ears. I tried to think of something charming to say and drew a blank.

‘Is it true you met the Defiler once?' Roosen said.

‘Sort of,' I hedged, not keen to get into that sordid story.

‘I've been trying to finish a short poem about him,' Roosen went on. ‘The knight cursed to defend The Weald with his sword of justice.'

‘He certainly had a strong presence,' I said, recalling the fight with him and his sword of fire that had nearly burned Blackgoat to the ground.

‘Anything else you could tell me about him?'

‘Uh…he was tall.'

Roosen tapped a finger against his lip. ‘He was tall.' He looked at Nicola. ‘She describes the Defender of The Weald as…tall.'

Nicola folded her arms. ‘I'm sure you can make it work, Roosen. Just get to know her before you start making judgements. Lora saved my life more than once over the last year.'

Roosen heaved a heavy sigh, as if Nicola had just asked him to give up his soul. He sat back down at the harpsichord and played out a light tune. ‘Tell me, Lora Blackgoat. Tell me about what drives you. What motivates you? What are the demons that haunt your sleep? Give me all your hopes and desires, so I may bleed on a page for you.'

I blinked a few times, before a sharp pain shot through my chest.

‘Lora,' Crowhurst said, warning in his voice.

Without answering, I spun on my heel. If Crowhurst thought I was going to bare my soul to a total stranger, then he was out of his mind. Bursting into the foyer, I headed for the door, needing fresh air.

‘Lady Blackgoat?'

Feeling more than a little frazzled, I almost pulled my sword when someone called my name. Turning, I saw a woman in an expensive dress and a complicated hairstyle I'd heard was in fashion in High Town. My chest squeezed again, reminding me I was having a heart attack, and I whirled, hurrying outside.

‘Lora!'

The woman's voice was concerned now and her heels tapped against the pavement behind me as I hurried along the street. It was too much. I couldn't do it. Crowhurst expected too much of me. Gideon expected too much of me. Darting down a small alley, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. The heels chasing me slowed.

‘Lora? It's Manika. Gorath's wife. We met briefly at the club the other night in the Outlands.'

My eyes flew open and one of my hands touched my work-belt as I searched her face. In the daylight, she appeared too normal to be mixed up in a sex-drenched S&M club. I tried to squint and read her aura, but my head was spinning too much to concentrate.

‘Are you okay?' she asked.

I didn't see any weapons, and I dropped my hand. My breath was returning and the black dots had disappeared, along with the sharp feeling in my chest.

‘I'm fine.' I wanted to sound in control, but the waver in my voice gave me away. I cleared my throat and tried again. ‘What are you doing here?'

Manika waved a gloved hand back towards the theatre. ‘Nicola Grogan is my cousin. My family is helping back her new business venture.'

‘You're kidding.'

Her delicately painted lips curved into a smile. ‘Did you think I was just some tart that lived in Gorath's Outland club?'

I cleared my throat. ‘Ah, no. Of course not.'

‘Oh?' Manika smiled. ‘Nicola talks a lot about you. The way she spoke of you convinced me Gorath was wrong in his assumptions about his future nemesis.'

‘Nemesis? Doesn't sound like me.' I adjusted my eyes to make Manika's aura pop into view. Colours swirled around her head in shades of peach and lilac. She blinked at me, then smiled shyly. ‘Are you reading my aura?'

‘How did you know?' I was too startled to try and deny it.

‘You were staring at my head and I'm pretty sure it's not because you're fascinated by my hairstyle,' she said. ‘Nicola told me what you could do and I just got the weirdest feeling.'

‘Sorry. I had to check you were on the level.' I pinched the bridge of my nose. Seems like I was bleeding secrets of late. I caught the scent of something light and floral as Manika took another step closer.

‘Why don't you tell me what's wrong? Is it about this play Nicola wants to put on?' Her laugh was airy. ‘Gorath had a similar reaction. He swore to burn down the theatre, until I pointed out it had nothing to do with him. He's quite fond of you.'

‘I'm sure he told you about the first time he and I met,' I said carefully.

‘Regretful.' All lightness dropped from her voice. ‘But I made him see. Forced him to face the fact he had believed a lie, fed to him by another.'

‘I suppose I should say thank you.'

She laughed. ‘I didn't do it for you. My reasons were selfish. I could see the good man inside and I wanted him. So I worked hard at catching his attention, then making him see.' She gave me a wink. ‘That's what us women do, isn't it? Fix our men?'

‘If you say so,' I murmured. It felt petty to point out that being broken wasn't a man's domain. I ran a hand through my curls. ‘Manika, I really just want to be left alone.'

‘Of course you do.' Sympathy filled her face. ‘It's what most people want.'

‘Then can you explain it to Nicola?' I asked. ‘Because I'm pretty sure she won't understand.'

Manika shook her head. ‘Oh no. She won't. She comes from a privileged background, so sometimes it's hard for her to imagine how some people would not crave fame and money.'

‘I crave money, alright,' I muttered. ‘My business needs it badly.'

‘Then do the stupid play.' Manika held up a hand to halt my protests. ‘But control the information. Tell them fantastic stories. Embrace the legend. Make it something more.' She paused, letting this sink in. ‘But
control
it. Tell white lies, alter the facts. Get your company out of its financial woes. Be the heroine.'

‘Hero,' I corrected.

Manika patted my arm. ‘Of course you are.'

After returning to the theatre, I found Crowhurst by his car, waiting. Apparently Roosen had left in disgust, declaring he wouldn't work with me. With Manika's words echoing in my head, I assured Crowhurst I wasn't backing out on the deal and would find Roosen and make nice.

The rest of the day was spent at Blackgoat Watch. A few meetings with potential clients, after which I was thankful Crowhurst announced he had other plans and left. I didn't need him shooting death glares at me about the debacle at the theatre that morning. I needed time to think. The picture of Seth sat heavy in my belt pocket and every now and then I pulled it out to stare at it. I'd heard Seth had moved to a High Town residence and, after paying extra coin to a Mercury boy to find out the exact address, I sent a message asking Seth for a meeting.