Shadows (12 page)

My stomach growls. I haven’t eaten for hours. I’m still staring out the window, not seeing anything. I’m thinking about my parents. Not the self-righteous pair who it now seems never existed, but the two people who gave Jude and me life: a woman from another place and time, and a fallen angel.

Did she know what he was? Was it the best night of her life, or did it just leave her knocked up without a husband? There weren’t too many places on the planet last century where being a single mother was a good thing. And did her life slip away giving birth, or did she somehow survive, like Jason’s mother? And if she survived, what made her give up her babies when Nathaniel came calling? Was she
scared? I almost can’t bear to think about her.

I stare at my reflection in the window. Do I look like her? Do we have the same cheekbones? The same dark eyes? Am I like her in other ways? Even if I remember who I used to be, I’ll never know. If she survived Nathaniel’s visit, she’s still been dead for a century.

I almost hope she didn’t care about Jude and me. I could bear that. But a mother who loved me, who lived a life searching for me—or who died protecting me… My throat closes over and I shut my eyes. A tear still slips out.

What about my father? I try to imagine him. I can’t.

Does he know I exist? Do any of the Fallen know they left behind a legacy of bastards now hell-bent on destroying them?

My breath fogs up the window and I use my finger to draw a crescent moon. It fades almost instantly. All I have to do is
remember.
Then Maggie is safe. Then at least some of these questions will have answers.

There’s a knock on the door. I tense, ready for anything, but it’s only Daniel carrying a tray of food. My traitor stomach greets him with enthusiasm.

‘Is that drugged too?’

Daniel has changed into a fresh shirt, less dressy than before, but still crisp. He puts the tray on the desk. The plate is covered with a stainless steel cloche, like in a
hotel. There’s a sealed bottle of water beside it and some thin breadsticks.

‘Your food is fine.’ He sits on the edge of the bed and gestures for me to eat at the desk.

I don’t move.

He lets out the smallest of sighs. ‘Opening your mind that way didn’t work, so there’s no point trying it again.’

‘Who opened my mind?’

‘Nathaniel.’

I swallow. ‘He was here? He can read minds?’

‘Nathaniel can see into our thoughts if we submit ourselves to him.’

‘Or if we’re off our face.’ I tuck a stray hair behind my ear. ‘What did he see?’

‘Memories of a life you never lived.’

‘No shit.’

The room now smells like cheese and mushrooms—and my stomach rumbles again.

‘Eat your dinner before it goes cold.’

The benefits of a full stomach outweigh the fear of being drugged again. I lift the lid. Risotto. It looks plain enough, just mushrooms and onions, stirred through with parmesan, but when I taste it…

‘This is pretty good.’

‘It’s the truffle oil.’

I don’t get it. One minute they’re drowning me and the
next cooking me gourmet meals. Must be some kind of Rephaite interrogation method. I pick up the pace. The meal could be ripped away before I finish it. Or I could.

‘Good god, you even eat like him now.’

Daniel is watching me, fascinated.

‘Who?’

‘Your brother.’

The Jude I remember loved food, but he rarely lingered over it. Apparently the real Jude wasn’t all that different. I lick my fork and smile.

Daniel clears his throat. I look over at him, but keep eating.

‘What does Rafael want with you?’ he asks.

It’s oddly satisfying, how much he hates acknowledging I’ve been with Rafa.

‘He wants what you want. To know how Jude died.’ I don’t tell him Rafa’s theory that Jude might still be alive, but it must have crossed Daniel’s mind. I don’t think too many things get past him.

‘That’s all?’

‘Isn’t that enough?’

It’s not a question he answers. I scrape the last of the rice onto my fork and try to make my deal. ‘Let’s assume my old memories are never coming back. You must have a plan B?’

He doesn’t answer, so I keep going. ‘Why can’t you treat
me like I’m another long-lost Rephaite? If you let Maggie go, I’ll stay. Train me.’

I’ll stay until I learn to shift.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

He sighs and wets his lower lip with his tongue. If he didn’t have such a huge stick up his arse it might be sexy. ‘Because we have to know what happened.’

‘But if you retrain me, that other life might come back. I might remember.’

‘We don’t have time, Gabriella. It might be too late. You and your brother could have already changed the course of history.’

‘How could we have possibly done that?’

‘If you found the Fallen and made some pact with them it will condemn us all.’

I scowl at him. Everything is so freaking life and death with these people.

‘Maybe we just wanted to find our father, ask for child support, and move on with our lives.’

Daniel stands up, but not before I see a muscle twitch in his jaw. ‘You need your memory back for no other reason than to stop this childish behaviour.’

I wrench the cap off the water and take a long drink. I belch, as childishly as I can, and then meet Daniel’s gaze. ‘When do I meet Nathaniel?’

He scoffs, forgetting himself for a second. ‘You have to earn that right.’

‘Or be unconscious.’

Daniel drums his fingers against his thighs. I’ve pushed him too far.

‘Have you finished eating?’

‘Why?’

‘Because your time’s up.’

Daniel signals to the camera, and Malachi and Taya materialise about two seconds later. I’m already scrambling for the window in slow motion, like I’m running underwater. How much would falling three storeys hurt? But they’re already between me and freedom.

I get a flash of Rafa standing under the jacaranda tree in my front yard. I mimic him, turning side-on and balancing my weight on my toes. I flex my fingers and raise my eyebrows at Taya and Malachi.

They falter.

And then they remember I’m harmless.

It takes them all of ten seconds to contain me. Taya pins my wrists behind me and Malachi’s fingers dig into my neck as he pushes me forward.

I struggle against them. ‘You’d better hope I don’t get my memory back.’

‘No, Gabe, you’d better hope you don’t.’ Taya jerks my arms up behind me. It hurts like hell. ‘When the truth comes out, you’re going to die. For real this time.’ Her voice is low so Daniel can’t hear her trash-talking.

We’re in the hallway, more beige carpet, acres of it. We reach a tiny lift and only the three of us squeeze into it. Daniel is gone. The lift groans and jerks, then starts down, slowly. I close my eyes. Would Jude be going through this if he’d survived instead of me? What would he do if he was here in my place?

The lift shudders then stops. The temperature has dropped a couple of degrees. We must be underground. Malachi and Taya frogmarch me down a dim passage. The walls are stone and the floor is bare concrete. Fluorescent lights sheathed in wire punctuate the low ceiling, and the place smells old and dank. We pass through two sets of iron gates before we reach a solid door. It’s green and mottled, like tarnished bronze. Malachi yanks me to a standstill. He presses a buzzer and looks up. Another camera. A few seconds later, electronic bolts slide back. What do they have down here that needs this level of security?

The door swings open, slowly, like it weighs a tonne. My pulse thuds in my temples. Malachi shoves me forward
into a cavernous gymnasium. Before me, punching bags hang from long chains that are bolted to the high ceiling. There are two makeshift boxing rings, and weights and barbells scattered around the floor. But what takes the air from my lungs is the room’s centrepiece.

It’s a cage.

A towering, fully enclosed steel cage, made of chainlink wire, with sawdust on the floor, linked by a walkway to another heavy-duty bronze door. It looks like it belongs in a back alley in Bangkok. Bile rises in my throat.

Please don’t let me be going in there.

The door behind me closes, and the electronic bolts slide back.

There’s no one else here. But from the stench of sweat hanging in the air, it hasn’t been empty long. Malachi propels me across the stone floor, towards the cage, my wrists still pinned behind my back. I struggle against him.

‘I wouldn’t waste any more energy if I was you,’ he says.

Taya’s already at the cage. She throws open the door, her sleek black ponytail swishing behind her. She gestures for me to step inside.

‘No fucking way.’ I dig in my heels. But we’re close enough now that it only takes a rough shove and I’m in the cage. I hit the sawdust on my hands and knees.

Taya grins and snaps a padlock over the bolt. ‘Don’t blame me. You got yourself into this.’

I fling a handful of sawdust at her. As she’s flicking it out of her hair, her attention locks on to something behind me. ‘Oh,
come
on.’

I look over my shoulder. Daisy is standing there, carrying a sword, her face still bruised and busted, her red hair pinned back from her face.

‘You don’t think I’m letting her face this alone, do you?’ She gives me a quick nod.

‘Get out of the cage, Daisy,’ Taya says, her tone flat.

‘She’ll get torn up in here on her own.’

‘Or
her instincts will kick in.’

‘You haven’t even given her a weapon.’

‘We will. So get out. Now.’

Daisy spins the sword in her hand. She looks dangerous, even with those freckles. ‘Make me.’

Taya’s face lights up and she reaches down for something at her feet.

‘Stop!’

Taya freezes. Daniel crosses the floor from the other side of the gym.

‘Enough,’ he says, his voice tight. ‘Taya, stay where you are.’ He looks into the cage, avoiding eye contact with me. ‘Daisy, get out of there.’

There’s no mistaking his tone for anything other than a command, but Daisy holds her ground. ‘Daniel, this is wrong.’

His face is pinched. ‘It is what it is.’

‘But does it have to be
this?’

I’m turning from one to the other as they speak.

‘I’m not asking again,’ Daniel says.

She holds his gaze for a few long seconds, and then her shoulders drop and I know I’m on my own. ‘Sorry, Gabe,’ she says quietly, and disappears.

My eyes linger on the imprint of her boots in the sawdust.

‘But I’m not leaving the room,’ she says behind me. She’s on the opposite side of the cage to Daniel, Taya and Malachi, her fingers hooked through the wire.

Daniel pretends not to hear. He nods at a camera across the room. A signal. All this time I’ve been crouched down, so I stand up on shaky legs and face the only other access point to the cage: the bronze door at the end of the walkway. It groans and slides open.

Something thuds at my feet, and I flinch. A sword.

Its blade is long and slightly curved, like Daisy’s—and the one in my dream.

I try to shake the tension from my limbs. The bronze door is fully open now, but there’s only darkness on the other side. I test the weight of the sword. It’s lighter than I thought it would be. The leather hilt feels vaguely familiar against my palm. I’ve dreamed about fighting with a sword like this almost every night for a year. I know
how to grip it, maybe even how to use it. For a heartbeat, I think I might be okay.

And then I see what shuffles out of the darkness into the cage.

It’s a hellion.

With yellow eyes and leathery skin. A head disfigured by lumps. Long muscular arms and bony fingers, talons for fingernails. It’s more than seven-foot tall.

And it’s so much more terrifying that those in my dream.

The hellion stops a few steps beyond the door. Its thick nostrils flare. It
smells
me.

My legs dissolve. Somehow I keep my feet.

‘Just take the head,’ Daisy says quietly from outside the cage.

I give a short, hysterical laugh. I can’t swallow.

The hellion’s misshapen ears prick up at the sound of my voice. It gives a deep, throaty snarl, baring long teeth.

I stagger back against the wire mesh of the cage, my heart hammering against my ribs.

‘You have the advantage,’ Daisy says. ‘It’s unarmed.’

I’m still staring at those teeth, unconvinced.

‘Didn’t Rafa teach you anything?’

I shake my head, afraid to take my eyes off it. ‘Can it shift?’

‘Not without help. It’s one of Zarael’s brainless foot soldiers. Be glad it’s not a demon.’

I don’t care that I don’t know who, or what Zarael is, or that there’s a difference between hellions and demons. I’m too busy remembering to breathe.

The hellion is taking in Daisy, Malachi, Taya and Daniel. It’s not quite as brainless as Daisy wants me to believe. Those yellow eyes fix on me again and my breath shortens. The stench of sweat and sawdust is choking me.

‘Don’t get pinned against the cage.’ Daisy nudges me through the wire. ‘Always have room to move.’

The hellion snarls again, louder this time. I turn side-on and grip the sword with both hands. I inch towards the middle of the cage, blood rushing in my ears.

The hellion lowers its head and charges.

The floor vibrates as it thunders towards me. I raise the tip of the sword.

Oh, fuck.
I roll my wrists and sweep the blade back and forth through the air. It’s halfway across the cage.

What did I do in the dream? It’s almost on me. Come on, come on…
think…
And then I remember.

I throw myself sideways, at the same time slashing at its heel. The blade finds flesh, and it takes all my strength to hang on to the hilt as the hellion stumbles, roaring in pain. My knees hit the hard floor. I pull back on the blade. It comes free, along with a gush of thick, dark fluid. The hellion hits the chain wire, and spins around, snarling. It tests its injured foot, throws its head back and roars again.

I’m on my feet. If I can hamstring the other leg, force the hellion to its knees, maybe I can take its head off. I flinch. Who am I kidding?
Take its head off?
I can’t even set a mousetrap at the bungalow.

It snarls. And charges again.

I will myself to stand still. Wait…Wait…
Now.
I dive to the left. As soon as my feet leave the ground, a searing pain rips along my side. I bury the blade in its thigh before I meet the sawdust. This time, though, I can’t hold on to it.

The ground shakes when the hellion falls. I try to sit up, but my body hurts like the hellion’s claws are still in me. I probe below my ribs. Everything there is wet and torn.

Unarmed, my arse.

We both lie there, me whimpering and it snarling. And then the hellion wrenches the blade out of its leg and hurls it across the cage. It may as well be in the next room for all the chance I have of getting to it. My limbs are lead and
every old injury hurts. My leg, my ribs, even the wound on the back of my neck. All throbbing in time with my heart.

‘Get the sword!’ Daisy yells at me. Her voice is strange, distant.

The hellion is sitting up now, slumped against the side of the cage, watching me. Dark blood pools in the sawdust around its legs. Its slashed pants are soaked. I haven’t done nearly enough damage to stop this thing.

I press both hands against my injured side. I’ll pass out in a minute if I don’t stop the bleeding. I put my weight on one elbow. My breath catches. I grunt and roll onto my hands and knees. For a second, I rest my head on the sawdust, catching my breath. Then I force myself to sit up, wait till the fluorescent lights wheeling above the cage settle and still. I grab the hem of my jumper, brace myself, and pull it over my head. A few ragged, nauseated breaths later, I’m still upright. I tie the fabric as tightly as I can bear. Daniel is just beyond the wire, his expression unreadable.

A snarl pulls my attention back to the hellion. It’s using the chain wire to haul itself up. I have to find a way to stand. If I stay here, it’s going to tear me to pieces. I’m going to die.

I swallow blood and fear, stagger to my knees. The hellion is almost upright.

The sword is lying impotently in the sawdust by the
walkway. The hellion looks from me to the weapon and back. It pushes off the cage and lumbers towards me.

‘RUN!’ Daisy screams.

I take off.

My leg jars but I keep going. The floor shakes. Nearly there,
nearly there.
I hear panting, right behind me. I’m not going to make it.

I dive for the sword. Pain tears at my side—I’ve opened the wound wider—but I get my hands around the hilt, roll over and bring up the blade. The hellion has already left the ground. Too late it sees the sword. It roars, and then lands on the blade. The steel pierces its leathery skin and slides in. It slams its hands into the sawdust either side of my head to stop its fall. I’m pinned, straining to stop the hilt driving into my chest. I twist the blade. The hellion roars, and the sound vibrates down my spine. Its face is so close I can see the veins in its skin and taste the fetid stench of its breath. Its eyes flare with pain as I twist the hilt again, but I’m fast losing feeling in my arms. If the hellion collapses, its weight is going to crush me.

I’m screwed.

My arms are pinned, the hellion’s are free, and it’s just worked that out. Holding its weight on one hand, it grabs a handful of my hair and reefs my head so my neck is bared. I scream, but the weight on my chest holds all sound. Where is everyone? Do they want me to die?

Razor-sharp teeth puncture the skin above my collarbone. White spots flare across my vision. I’m frozen, waiting for the hellion to rip flesh from me. But it’s not tearing at me. It’s…drinking.

The bars on the cage blur together.

My blood is pumping into its mouth. This is wrong. This is so
wrong.

And, oh god, it hurts.

I close my eyes.

I’m not human. I’m
not human.
I’m the offspring of an angel. The pulling at my throat. The sound of it. My blood. Nothing from hell should
ever be
free to feed from me. What makes me Rephaite? My blood.

Is the hellion feeding on me for strength?

But it’s
mine.

Warm blood runs down my neck and soaks into my shirt. I can’t feel the wound on my side now. My fingers are numb.

Focus.

I picture my heart, pumping Rephaite blood through my limbs. It has to be powerful. I’m meant to be immortal. I need it to pump harder.

Heat spreads across my chest. Adrenaline.

It courses through me.

I tighten my grip on the sword hilt, feel my fingers again, and imagine drawing all that energy into my shoulders.
I twist the blade. The hellion unclamps its teeth to snarl. I shove it as hard as I can, with everything I have.

It lands next to me on its back. I don’t know who’s more surprised: it or me. But I recover first. I spring to my feet and jerk the gore-soaked blade from its gut. The hellion convulses as it comes free.

I swing the sword hard and fast.

The blade slices through the hellion’s neck—through flesh, muscle, tendon and vertebrae. It’s impossible. No way am I strong enough to do that. But the hellion’s head is no longer attached to its body. Dark blood gushes onto the sawdust. A couple of fingers on the beast’s left hand twitch, and its legs spasm. And then…nothing.

I drop the sword and turn away. My body burns. For the moment the adrenaline is stronger than the pain. I face my audience. Daniel is watching me, his expression still unreadable. Taya and Malachi have stepped back from the cage.

‘Gabe?’

I look across to find Daisy, her eyes hopeful. The pain is rushing back now, filling me.

‘Sorry,’ I say to her. ‘Just me.’

And then her face and the wire diamonds of the cage are spinning. I pass out before I hit the sawdust.