Shimmer: The Rephaim Book 3 (8 page)

‘So you do still have friends,’ she says, nodding at my clean clothes. She checks Jude over, meets his gaze fleetingly and then opens the door.

I’m expecting a boarding-school–style dining room. By now, I should know better than to make assumptions about the Rephaim. Jude and I prop in the doorway. His jaw drops a little.

The room is modern, airy and
huge
. On one side, floor-to-ceiling windows give a clear view of the pine forest; on the other, an open kitchen bustles with activity. Men in chefs whites line up behind steaming pots, ladles in hand. White laminate tables are grouped together in long rows, set with silver cutlery, wine glasses, miniature lamps and fresh purple flowers. The chairs are made from funky curved timber and the floor is covered in dark slate. A wall of wine dominates the back of the room, dwarfing a polished timber bar. The air is heavy with roasted tomatoes, basil and garlic. My mouth waters. Apparently not even high levels of anxiety kill my appetite.

It takes me a moment to realise the chatter has stopped. Completely. My eyes skim over faces of Rephaim I don’t know but vaguely recognise from the chapterhouse, and then Daisy—thank god—and Micah, Malachi…more strangers…and finally a cluster of Outcasts in the far corner. They’ve pushed three tables together. Jones waves us over.

We cross the room, pretend everyone’s not staring at us. I flex my fingers, try to coax out this constant tension, but I’m still acutely conscious of each footstep.

‘Who pays for all this?’ Jude asks.

‘Nathaniel and a fleet of financial advisers.’ Mya says the last four words as if they taste bad. ‘He has more money than he can spend, and this is what he does with it: provides a luxury mountain resort for these bastards.’

I think about the cramped quarters the Outcasts use in Dubai: stuffy, hot and stinking of charred food and sweat. It’s a long way from this. A long way from the place they once called home.

Jones and Seth move down the table to make room. I sit between Ez and Jude, position myself opposite Zak—his shoulders are so broad I’m effectively screened from most of the room. Mya sits at the head of the table. Of course.

‘All good?’ Zak asks.

Jones nods. ‘So far.’

‘That could be about to change.’

Malachi is headed our way, hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. Apart from the faint shadow of a bruise around one eye, there’s barely a sign of our brawl. He looks up and down the three tables. ‘Why aren’t you eating?’

Jones half-turns towards the hostile crowd of Sanctuary Rephaim. ‘We’re trying to work out if it’s an “act of aggression” if we all get up at once to eat. Not that I mind a good melee, but I don’t think it would go down well with the kitchen. I am peckish, though.’

‘Just grab a plate and go to the counter,’ Malachi says, weary, and walks away.

Jones rubs his hands together. ‘You heard the man.’

Chairs scrape on the slate floor. I catch Daisy’s eye, briefly, before we approach the service counter in a pack. There, a young guy with curly black hair sticking out from under a chef’s hat points to each dish and explains them to us. In Italian. I glance at Jude. He doesn’t understand a word of it either, which I find a strange relief. The chef is talking to me now, asking me something. There’s recognition in his eyes: he knows me. I shake my head, embarrassed.

‘That’s goat ragu with pappardelle pasta,’ Ez says beside me. ‘This one is
gnocchi tartufo
—the gnocchi’s made from parmesan, truffle and potato—and that’s the best onion soup you’ll eat this side of the French border.’

I accept a bowl of ragu, earning an approving smile from the chef. Jude chooses the same and we head back to the table. He’s also juggling a tall glass filled with skinny breadsticks and a jug of red wine. We get settled and he pours us both a glass. I raise my eyebrows.

‘It’s Italy,’ he says, as if it’s a no-brainer to drink in the middle of the day. For a heartbeat I’m back in Monterosso with him, sipping limoncello in a café by the sea at ten in the morning. Another memory from a trip we never took. Another lie.

‘We need to stay sharp,’ I say.

‘Says the girl who just got the shit kicked out of her.’ He looks past Zak. ‘Bloody hell, he’s persistent.’

Malachi is coming back, this time with Daisy and Micah. All three cradle half-eaten meals. Jude knocks my knee under the table.
Be patient
.

‘You want to make room?’ Malachi asks.

Zak measures him, seems satisfies with what he finds. ‘Fine. But don’t think we won’t throw down in here if you pull any of your usual shit.’

‘Noted.’ Malachi sits in the spare seat beside Zak. Daisy puts her plate on the table and drags a chair over, squeezing next to Jones. Micah finds a spot further along. The two Outcast girls he sits between don’t seem too put out at having to make room for him.

‘Hey,’ I say to Daisy. ‘Did you bring me these?’ I pluck at my hoodie.

‘Yeah, your stuff is in boxes in the storeroom.’

Something quivers in my chest.

‘Do you have anything of mine?’ Jude asks her.

‘No.’ Daisy concentrates on her bowl, pushing the thick soup around. ‘You took most of your stuff when you left.’

Of course he did. When Jude left the Sanctuary, he had no intention of coming back.

‘What sort of stuff?’ he asks.

‘Books, clothes, weapons.’ All the things in the cottage on Patmos. ‘You guys didn’t leave much behind when you left. Except Rafa’s motorbike.’

‘Rafa had a motorbike?’ I look to Ez. ‘Seriously?’

‘Yes,’ Ez says. ‘The guy who thinks cars are a waste of time decided he couldn’t live without an overpowered motorcycle.’

‘Why?’

‘To annoy Daniel. And then he learned to ride it and loved the speed. Never rode with a helmet, of course.’

I nod. ‘If he lost control, he could shift before he hit the ground, right?’

Ez smiles at her gnocchi, shakes her head.

‘What?’

‘You’re the reason he wrecked the first bike.’

‘That’s right,’ Zak says. ‘You wanted him to red-line it through the Alps. He flipped it on a corner north of the border and lost it over a cliff. You two thought it was a hell of a joke.’

‘I dared him to do that?’

‘Gabe,’ Ez says, almost chiding. ‘You were on the back with him.’

I try to picture it: me on a bike with Rafa. Fearless. Laughing. Before he and Jude left the Sanctuary. Before whatever happened between Rafa and me. Whatever it was, it stopped Rafa finishing what we started in his bedroom in Pan Beach; has held him back every time we start to cross that line. And now I’ll never feel his lips or his hands on me again unless we get him out of that room.

‘He bought another one,’ Daisy says, and I’m dragged back to the moment. She catches Jude’s eye. ‘You used to ride it too, just not like a lunatic.’

A crooked smile. He can’t help himself. ‘Is it still here?’

‘It’s in the garage as far as I know. Nobody’s been on it since you guys left.’

‘We should check it out,’ he says to me.

See Rafa’s motorcycle? One that I used to ride with him? Just thinking about it makes me feel hollow. ‘We need to check on Simon and the guys at some point too.’

Nobody seems excited by that prospect. The room hums with chatter now, the occasional chink of glasses and cutlery. A gust of wind disturbs the pine trees outside, the tops bending and swaying.

Jude finishes his meal first, scrapes his plate and licks the knife clean. ‘Could Rafa and Taya shift
inside
that iron room?’ he asks.

Malachi’s fork pauses at his lips. He looks at me, questioning.

‘When we were there, Rafa shifted as far as the wall. He’d disappear until he hit it.’ I try not to think about how many times he slammed back into the floor. How his rage filled that tiny room.

‘That’s good,’ Malachi says, eyes distant. ‘It means he and Taya can heal each other. Theoretically.’

A tiny spark of hope. ‘Could they keep shifting—not stay still long enough to be pinned down?’

‘Not indefinitely.’

Ez pours herself half a glass of wine. ‘Those women must have factored that in when they built the room. What would be the point of trapping us if we could escape the second the seal on the door was broken? They’d need to incapacitate us.’

‘Maybe it wasn’t set up properly. It’s not like the kid was expecting you,’ Zak says.

The kid. Sophie. Dead after something far worse than us turned up at the farmhouse. The goat ragu sits heavy in my stomach.

‘So Rafa and Taya might not be conscious?’ Jude looks from Ez to Malachi.

Malachi lowers his fork, pushes his plate away. ‘That’s about the best we can hope for at this point.’

TIME TO SMELL THE ROSES

Jude nudges my foot.

‘Daisy, you got a second?’ he asks.

Her head comes up. She blinks at Jude and nods. He stands and I follow. I don’t look at Micah—he must know what we’re doing. Mya starts to rise too but Jude shakes his head. The skin around her eyes tightens but she doesn’t leave the table.

Daisy waits until we’re out in the hallway. ‘What’s up?’

‘We need to talk to Virginia,’ Jude says.

‘Good luck with that.’

‘I’m serious. She knows how that room works. We need information.’

‘What do you think Nathaniel and the Five have been trying to get out of her since she got here? You think either of you will be more persuasive than him?’

‘I can guarantee I’m more charming,’ Jude says.

She studies him for a long moment, his eyes, his hair, but when her gaze drops to his mouth she shakes her head as if annoyed with herself. ‘You’ve been back here five minutes and you want to pull a stunt like that?’

‘Daisy,’ Jude says quietly. ‘Do you know where she is?’

‘Wow. It’s a been a while since you used that look on me.’

‘What look?’

‘The one that says, “Daisy, don’t let me down.
”
That stopped working the day you followed Mya out the door.’ She doesn’t look away and neither does Jude. I shift my weight, force myself to stay out of it.

‘This is about getting to Rafa and Taya, not who I used to be or how I used to look at you,’ Jude says.

A faint flush creeps above the neckline of her jumper.

‘Hey.’ I touch her arm. She jerks away and then looks embarrassed. I guess the old Gabe wasn’t much of a toucher. ‘You don’t have to be involved,’ I say. ‘Just tell us where to find her.’

‘You can’t shift. What are you going to do if someone finds you?’ Her eyes narrow. ‘Or is someone else coming along?’ She doesn’t mention Mya but that’s obviously who she means.

‘No, just us. And if you want to keep it that way we should move now.’ I give the commissary doors a meaningful look. The hum of conversation continues on the other side. I pick at the hem of my t-shirt, impatient.

Daisy runs her tongue across her teeth, stares past me for a second, and then turns and walks down the hallway. Jude and I exchange a quick look and follow. She doesn’t speak as she leads us through more buildings and then outside. Water splashes in a fountain under the muted sky; the breeze carries hints of lavender and rosemary. We’re back in the main piazza. I step out beyond the cloister and look up, try to get my bearings. We’re surrounded by three-storey buildings on all sides—our rooms are somewhere above us to the left. I think.

‘As far as I know, Virginia’s in guest quarters in Nathaniel’s compound.’ She scans the cloisters as she speaks, her voice quiet. Jaw tense.

‘And that’s in which direction?’ Jude asks.

She nods at the building on the other side of the lawn. ‘Past the infirmary, near the chapterhouse.’

‘Is she alone?’

‘Doubtful. But at least Nathaniel’s with the Five in the library’—she stabs her thumb in the opposite direction—‘so you shouldn’t run into him.’

My pulse picks up. ‘Can you shift us in there?’ I ask.

Daisy shakes her head. ‘Bad idea. Someone would feel it.’ It would be quicker to cross the grass but Daisy stays under the cover of the cloisters, walking the length of two sides of the piazza. When we reach the other corner, she stops in front of tall doors. They’re bronze and tinged green with age, and both have ornate carvings. On one, a giant lion stands on its hind legs, teeth bared and mane flowing. A flock of sheep cowers on the other. Either the lion is protecting the sheep from an unseen enemy or it’s about to eat them, it’s hard to tell.

‘Nathaniel’s garden is on the other side, in the middle of the compound. The guest quarters are all on ground level so you can use the bushes for cover while you find her room. It should be on the western wall. Then you need to get inside without being seen.’

I give a short laugh. ‘Just like that.’

‘Hey, this is your plan, not mine.’ Daisy walks over to a bench by the wall, sits down and crosses her ankles. ‘Don’t be seen.’

Jude raises his eyebrows at me. ‘Ready?’

My pulse is more insistent now. I see Rafa in agony, collapsing to his knees in the forest. I nod. Jude lifts the ring under the sheep and turns it. A bolt slides on the other side, too loud in the hushed piazza. My mouth is dry. Bad idea or not, I wish we could shift.

The door swings open slowly, ancient bronze scraping on ancient stones. I step into the short, dank passage and Jude closes the latch behind us. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust: the garden is at the other end. We press ourselves against the damp wall, creep to the opening. Jude is breathing quicker now too.

I take a nervous look outside and duck back into the shadows. The garden is about the same size as my front yard in Pan Beach. Wrought-iron tables and chairs are clustered together in the middle, surrounded by a sea of white, pink and purple roses. Patches of wild mint and basil; tomatoes climbing a trellis; thick blueberry bushes along all four walls. There’s nobody in sight.

‘Which is the western wall?’ I whisper.

Jude points to his left. I have no idea how he can tell when the sun is hidden behind an endless bank of rain clouds. He drops into a crouch and I do the same. We wait a heartbeat and then make a run for a clump of blueberry bushes screening the first window, press ourselves against the wall. I take a second to steel myself and then peer inside. It’s a guest room. Empty. I shake my head at Jude and we move on to the next one in a half-crouch. Empty. So are the next two. I feel ill. And exposed. We’re a long way from the bronze doors.