Vigil: Verity Fassbinder Book 1 (36 page)

‘No, you said
the Boatman
,’ he interrupted sharply, and I remembered he wasn’t the only one who’d held things back. Obviously Ziggi had kept
schtum
about that too. ‘What about the Boatman?’ That’s where the recriminations came in. ‘If you’d mentioned the Boatman earlier—’

Once I’d filled in the gaps and he was able to speak civilly again, he said, ‘So, where to from here?’

I sighed. ‘Thaïs, for a few more stern and probing questions, because after last night I am pretty sure she knows more than
she’s saying – then again, who doesn’t? After that, Rhonda McIntyre, to establish how she knew about the angels. And Anders
Baker – I need to find him and work out why he’s still alive . . . assuming he still is.’

‘Ziggi’s on the hunt for Baker, so don’t worry about him.’

‘Do you think it – I mean,
Donovan
– worked up the courage to kill his father?’

He shook his head slowly. ‘I think after we disturbed its nest it went home again to hide. I think Anders got scared and bolted.’
He added, ‘Are David and Lizzie okay?’

‘Hiding at Mel’s.’

‘The angels got David’s address?’

‘I’m not sure but I suspect so, so I couldn’t risk it.’

‘If you need a safe house—’

‘You’ll run out of rectories. Besides, I don’t imagine there’s anywhere safe from those things.’

‘Okay, be careful.’

‘You don’t need to tell me twice.’

*

I was so sick and tired of being lied to. I hit Little Venice in a royal temper. There was a buzzing in my head, an electrical
hum that became stronger the closer I got. The main bar area was deserted, except for the two bruised and beaten emo-Weyrd
waitresses cowering behind the servery. The bodies of Aspasia’s three serpent babies were lying on the flagstones, surrounded
by the splintered remains of chairs and tables; the snow-lace mirror was in shards. A few large, gloriously white feathers
floated on the breeze. They didn’t belong to a siren.

‘Where are they?’

One of the girls pointed upwards, her hand shaking wildly. The other had crimson running from her mouth and her trembling
hands were cupped around something pink and fleshy.

‘Get out. You know Louise Arnold, the healer in Franklin Street? Go there. Don’t come back here until you hear from the Sisters.’
If,
of course, the Sisters hadn’t become extinct. The girls scurried out, terrified little gothic mice.

I moved swiftly and silently up the staircase. On the second floor I found Theodosia and Aspasia in a disarrayed sitting room,
bloodied and battered, but breathing. Theo’s eyes flickered open when I knelt beside her. She hugged her ribcage tenderly,
then whispered, ‘Thaïs?’ I made to stand, but Aspasia’s hand snaked out and grabbed my wrist in a grip that belied her pummelled
state. Her eyes bored into mine, so black they were abysses, and she spat, ‘Angel.’

I shook her off and slid the Dagger of Wilusa from the ankle-sheath. I had no idea if it would have any effect, but it had
stopped the golem in its tracks and other options were limited. Even with the weapon and my freakish strength, I wasn’t the
odds-on favourite here.

The noise in my head got worse as I ascended, but at least the nosebleed didn’t start again. The door to Thaïs’ sanctum had
been wrenched off its hinges and half-blocked the hallway.

I sidled into the gap and stared.

As with the rest of the place, the furniture had been thrown around. The couches had been gutted, all exposed stuffing and
broken springs. The chest of drawers coffee table had almost entirely disintegrated, its contents spilled across the polished
timbers. Vials, cards, bronze bowls, athames, jewellery, tokens and charms, powders and dried herbs, gris-gris and fetishes,
were all lying about as if a whirlwind had been through.

But what really drew my eyes was the sight of an angel holding Thaïs aloft. She hung from his fist like a captive kitten tired
of struggling. Her face had turned a strange cherry hue and her lips were blue-tinged. The angel was shouting, and Thaïs’
ears were bleeding.

I took advantage of the racket to creep towards them, cherishing the notion that he was too focused on trying to make the
Norn talk to notice me; so much for that fond thought. As I got within arm’s length –
his
arm, not mine, more’s the pity – he brought his free hand up, incredibly fast, and swatted me away. My teeth and ribs rattled
when I hit the wall and a rush of blackness threatened to wipe me out, but I fought it. Turns out nothing makes you focus
quite like the sight of an enraged angel charging at you.

He’d dropped Thaïs’ great bulk and was concentrating on me now. He didn’t look too angelic any more, not with his gaze emptied
of everything but fury. I stayed where I was, waiting until he bent down to scoop me up, then I side-scrambled as fast as
I could. In reaching out to grab me he exposed the soft flesh of his left armpit and I jammed the dagger’s long shaft into
it, angling it down, in the hope it would reach his heart.

I didn’t know whether it did, or whether the mere touch of the Boatman’s knife was enough to undo him, but whatever the reason,
he stopped yelling and his wings started jerking convulsively. He gave a surprised grunt, disbelief flaring brightly in his
eyes, and elbowed me in the head as he slumped to the floor. I shuffled away quickly, terrified he would move again.

But he didn’t do anything except smoulder briefly, then burst into fast-burning white flames. Soon he was gone, leaving nothing
but a gleaming sapphire atop a large pile of grey ash. It was still hot, singeing my hand when I reached in to retrieve the
dagger, which turned out to be completely undamaged. Blood started leaking from my poor abused nose and the cinders hissed
as a few drops hit it.

Brisbane was down by one angelic watcher. That would teach him to betray the city that had fed him.

Thaïs lay on her side, gasping and spitting teeth. I crawled over to
her, not yet ready to commit to standing myself. From the doorway came swearing, which meant Theo and Aspasia had made it
up the stairs. The Misses Norn were obviously tougher than they looked, black eyes, broken smiles, cracked ribs and all.

I helped Thaïs to sit as the other two staggered in and flopped beside us. I contemplated the Sisters, and they stared back.
Aspasia looked as if she didn’t quite hate me any more, or at least less than she had. Without a word she handed me a scrap
of cloth and I cleaned the dagger thoroughly. It still scared the crap out of me, but I was getting rather fond of that knife.
The Norns all sported punched-out quadrate crosses: Aspasia on her left shoulder, Theo at the base of her throat and Thaïs
high on her right cheek – not hidden away as with the sirens, but on display. Even when they healed, they’d be scarred. Somewhere
in the mound of ash was the silver ring that had done that damage.

‘You okay to talk?’ I asked Thaïs, and when she nodded, I said pointedly, ‘There’s some stuff you left out when I came to
see you last time.’ Her blue eyes slid to the side, but I grabbed her chin and made her look at me, ignoring her when she
winced – I supposed I was hitting places where the angel had bruised her, but I didn’t really care at that moment. ‘Because
when the angels had a little chat with me very early this morning, they mentioned a prophecy: the prophecy of the double-winged.
I would like all the information you have, please. I reckon that’s the absolute bare minimum you can do, seeing as how I just
saved your life.
All
of your lives.’

The truth of those words sank in for all of us; I could see the understanding bloom on their faces. I’d turned an angel to
ash: one of the First, the Chosen, the Angelic Host, was dead by my hand, which probably wasn’t going to do wonders for either
my karma or my chances of surviving the next few days.

Thaïs said nothing, so I went on in an encouraging fashion, ‘The Boatman said they want to “break the sky”. The angels say
their Arch is promising a return home – or at least a way out of this world. Got anything you want to add?’

‘The blood of the double-winged will break the sky. It will let the angelics pass through – not literally the sky, but it
will split open dimensions and let them out, leave them free to travel,’ Thaïs replied at last.

‘And the child of Serena and Tobit is the double-winged?’

‘You know she is.’

‘They’re not planning to just prick her finger, are they?’

‘They do love a blood sacrifice.’

‘If they succeed, what are the consequences for us, Normal and Weyrd?’

‘Darkness. A perpetual darkness.’

No daylight, forever night. The Normals likely wouldn’t be able to handle such an inversion; they might not survive at all.
The Weyrd would reign, those who wanted to, those with an axe to grind. All balance would be gone; Normals would become fodder
for those revelling in an eternal eventide.

‘And you didn’t tell me this because—?’

‘I thought maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.’ The admission fell like a glass.

‘
For fuck’s sake!
’ I heard myself shout. ‘Every idiot wants immediate revolution with no consequences for themselves. Everyone wants an apocalypse
that benefits
them
– but how do you not realise that
change just brings new problems? If the sky is broken, if the angels leave – then
what else comes back in through the cracks
? Where do you think the ’serkers wait? And worse?’ They all paled at that thought; even the Weyrd didn’t much like their
chances against the things that lived in
the between spaces. ‘You’ll happily give up all the Normals just so you can play in the dark?
Seriously?
As if there haven’t ever been mortals who’ve helped you somewhere along the line? As if each and every one of you hasn’t
owed your life to a human who didn’t hate and hurt blindly? And
this
is how you want to repay them all for the sins of a few?’

I heaved myself upwards, heavy with despair. None of them would meet my eye.

‘I’ve sent your waitresses to the healer. One had her tongue ripped out.’ Theo closed her eyes. Aspasia swore and spat on
the pile of angelic ash. Thaïs put a finger in her mouth, rooted around for a tooth shard, which she wrenched loose and threw
across the ruined room.

I considered the wreckage of them. ‘You’d better work out which side you’re on, Sisters. You think you want a darkness? You
think you want an apocalypse? You know that word means a great revealing light, right? Well, you might find yourself burned
by it. You need to think very carefully about the consequences, about what you’re prepared to deal with.’

They looked contrite, a little. I pointed at them, which might have been more impressive if my finger hadn’t been shaking.
‘And remember this: I saved your arses. Three lives are owed to me, and at some time I’ll be coming to collect.’

I shambled to the door. The buzz in my skull had gone as soon as the angel burst into flames, but there was still a dull ache.
My ribs and back hurt like bastards and a nerve twitched in my leg, but I didn’t think anything was broken. My fingers were
burned. On the upside, my nosebleed had slowed to a trickle.

I reached the ruined doorframe, turned and stared back at the trio. ‘Close up here for a while, send the word out to anyone
you can to go to ground. Find a safe place and hide. Will you be okay?’

‘Just go, Fassbinder. You’ve got work to do,’ snarled Aspasia.

As I headed down the stairs I pulled out my phone and called Ziggi, but he wasn’t answering so I gave up and angrily hailed
a cab. The taste of ashes in my mouth was strong and bitter.

I got home around twelve, painfully aware that yet another change of clothes was required. How many outfits was I going to
ruin in the course of this investigation? I threw the cinder-covered shirt and jeans in a corner. Oddly, the ash refused to
brush off, and as I showered, I wondered whether it was corrosive, but no nasty rashes were popping up to suggest revenge
was being taken from beyond the grave.

I dabbed aloe vera on my burned fingers and bandaged them, then gave the dagger another cleaning. The sheath had rubbed some
blisters into my ankle, but I wasn’t complaining; more aloe vera and more plasters sorted that out. I was just deeply grateful
for the Swiss Army Knife of the Occult.

My stomach was rumbling, I put bread in the toaster, then wandered through the house while I waited. The place had been invaded,
the rooms scoured, but that wasn’t what was making me feel uncomfortable. It was the emptiness and silence. They had never
bothered me before, not even after my grandparents died – maybe because I’d changed so little, it had always felt as though
they were kind of still there. I’d liked it that way. Empty and quiet meant sanctuary, somewhere to fill as and when I wished,
and with what and whom I chose. Even when Bela and I had been a couple, we’d never lived together. Except for those rare occasions
when I’d been allowed to stay at his apartment at Highgate Hill, with its
ultra-modern furniture, clean surfaces and Expressionist paintings, he’d mostly slept here.