Chaos Bound (12 page)

‘Why don’t you shut up?’ Roman grabbed the front of Seth’s coat, yanking his face up to his. Seth swung a fist, but Roman ducked, then the two men were grappling with each other, grunting and cursing.

‘This is ridiculous.’ I ducked around them, following the swarm of guards as they rushed outside. Pursing my lips, I checked out the surroundings. Guards fanned out in the gardens, weapons in hand, most heading towards the rose garden. A flicker in the hedge maze caught my eye, and I rushed towards it, the tight corset biting into my waist. I lifted my skirts and pulled one of my blades from the leg-brace. Keeping the skirts up, I hesitated at the entrance of the maze and glanced over my shoulder. Some guards had spied me and were running my way, waving wheellocks and yelling for me to go back inside. I slipped into the maze and hurried down a passage. I tried to remember if there were rules for navigating mazes, so you didn’t keep hitting dead ends. Was it always turn left? Or right?

Trying to keep the rustle of my skirts as quiet as possible, my ears strained for noises that didn’t belong. A growl from the darkness stopped me dead and I turned to face the long corridor I'd just come down. Red eyes glowed in the gloom and a misshapen bulk shuffled forward.

‘Easy now.’ I dropped my skirts. One hand inched towards my cleavage for my salt pouch. ‘Good doggy-doggy.’

The griorwolf growled and my hand froze. ‘I won’t hurt you,’ I murmured. ‘I need you to change back into a man. Maybe we could have a talk then. Can you do that for me?’

The beast ambled towards me on uneven legs, in a rolling, clumsy walk. Its muscles bunched, then it rushed me in a flash of teeth and fur. I tried to pinch salt, but the beast slammed into me before I could. We crashed into the ground and I ducked my head, keeping clear of its snapping teeth. The griorwolf smelled of greasy hair and fresh blood, and its claws tore at my dress, seeking flesh. I wanted to scream, but fear choked the noise in my throat.

A roar thundered around us and then the griorwolf was pulled off me. Scrambling to my feet, I saw Roman fighting the beast, the Regulator’s face twisted with a raging fury, his eyes wild. He moved with a feral grace that matched the griorwolf, as if it was beast against beast and a sliver of fear ran through me. For a moment, I forgot who I was more afraid of. I pinched salt and cast a stunning hex. It wasn’t the most eloquent one, acting like a scattergun, spitting sparks in a wide fan, but I didn’t want to chance missing my target. It wouldn’t kill Roman, though it’d sure stun the hell out of him. But Roman slammed the griorwolf to the ground at the last moment, and the hex fizzled into the hedge behind them, singing the greenery.

I pinched more salt as the griorwolf rolled to its feet. Claws slashed across Roman’s chest, slicing through his coat. Roman snarled, and the furious sound crawled over my skin. It pulled at the shadows, and darkness closed on Roman like a sweeping cloak. The air around his head pulsed into an inky blot, and his features rippled. The sweet, rotten taste of darkcraft spilled over my tongue, and I opened my mouth to warn Roman to stop whatever he was doing. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. But I was too late. Roman leapt into the griorwolf’s embrace, his hands wrapping around the beast’s head, thumbs thrust deep in its eye sockets. The griorwolf screamed. Then Roman drew back a fist, and shot it forward, the powerful blow cleaving the griorwolf’s chest. His fist burrowed deep into the beast’s ribcage with a crack, bursting out the back in an explosion of blood and gore.

A strangled cry of horror welled up inside me, but my lips were too stiff with shock to move. The beast’s misshapen body gave a violent shudder as Roman yanked his fist free, then the griorwolf collapsed. Swollen muscles contracted, fur retreated and bones shifted with a clicking sound, until just a man lay on the grass, with ruined eyes and a gaping hole in his chest.

Roman stared down at his dripping red hand. His face was slack, as if he wasn’t sure what had just happened.

‘Lora?’ He sounded confused, fear in his eyes.

I rushed over to him. ‘You have to run. You can’t be caught here.’

‘I'm not sure what happened,’ Roman whispered. ‘It was like I was looking through someone else’s eyes.’

‘Everything’s fine, it’s over.’ I tried to sound soothing and reasonable. I could hear voices approaching us in the maze. ‘But you need to run. Get back to the Order and lay low.’

‘I can’t leave.’ Roman’s shoulders hunched in. ‘This is my responsibility.’

‘You will be killed for this,’ I hissed. ‘Do you understand? The Order will see that you just ripped a man’s heart out. They’ll call it a berserker rage and have you put away, or killed. Do you want that?’

‘If that is what happened,’ Roman’s head bowed, ‘then I must throw myself on the mercy of the Order. Fowler will help me.’

‘Fowler will see you dead.’ I talked faster, knowing we were out of time. ‘If you have any feelings for me, then you will run. Get out of here. We can deal with this later, together. I can’t help you if you’re locked up and on death row.’

‘I won’t leave you here.’ His voice was torn, raw.

‘I can handle this situation. This isn’t the first dead body I've had to explain. But for now, for me, please go.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Please.’ I stood on tiptoe, brushing my lips against his, trying to remind him what was at stake. The connection between us flared hot, shaking Roman out of his daze.

He retreated from me, stepping around the dead man on the ground. With an anguished look at me, he disappeared into the shadows, as if he had never been there.

As far as jail cells went, the one I got thrown in was pretty standard. It was a four by five room with a stone floor, iron bars and big, nifty locks. Located out the back of the City Watch station on Beaker Street, the cell joined four others, hemmed by a corridor that led to the main station area. A piss-pot squatted in one corner, and a cot sat flush against one wall.

The only other occupant was Gideon, who had claimed the cot and was snoring off his hangover. This wasn’t the first time I'd been in a City Watch cell. Hellfires, it wasn’t even the first time I'd shared a cell with Gideon. It was, however, the first time I'd been locked up on suspicion of murder. Now, my hands were wrapped around the bars as I waited for Crowhurst to tell me if we had bail.

‘I'm not surprised you got arrested, really.’ Crowhurst’s eyes trailed over my outfit. ‘That dress is a crime against fashion.’

‘You’re a funny guy,’ I growled. I'd lost my hat somewhere during the night and counted it as the one good thing to come of the party.

He gave me a smile with tired edges. ‘A lawyer is being organised, so you should be out soon.’

Worry sat in my stomach like a rock. I hoped Roman had made it back to the Order and was resting. What had happened, what I had seen him do, I was sure it had been just a break of his control, a moment of blind anger. It hadn’t been a berserker rage. I wouldn’t allow it to be.

I knuckled my gritty eyes, feeling close to curling up and taking a nap on the cold ground next to Gideon. My internal clock told me it was sunrise, and my brain was sending signals it was ready to shut down and take me with it.

‘The official line is that the man was insane,’ Crowhurst said. ‘He terrorised the party in a werewolf costume, before being killed by you, apparently in self-defence.’

‘He wasn’t in costume,’ I said quietly. ‘He was a griorwolf.’

‘Did you tell anyone that yet?’

‘Not yet.’

Crowhurst shook his head. ‘As far as most citizens are concerned, griorwolves no longer exist. I think my kind would appreciate you keeping it that way.’

‘Who was it? Do we know his identity yet?’

Crowhurst shoved his hands into his coat, hunching his shoulders. ‘It was Jonas Grundler.’

I leant my forehead against the bars, the cold iron soothing my hot forehead. ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘What happened, Lora?’ Crowhurst asked softly. ‘Did he say anything to you?’

‘He attacked me. I had no choice but to kill him.’

Scepticism rolled through Crowhurst’s eyes. ‘It’s just us, Lora. You don’t need to pretend.’

I moved away from the bars with a sigh. ‘I hexed him. He died. It’s that simple.’

‘Takes a lot of magic to fuel a hex like that,’ Crowhurst said. ‘I didn’t think you had that kind of power, even with your special punchy salt mix.’

‘Guess I'm stronger than you thought. I mean, you remember the whole female nephilim thing, right? Potential wielder of the almighty chaos power?’

‘Thought you didn’t know how to use that style of magic. Thought you didn’t want to. Thought that chaos magic was a one way ticket to Lora-crazy-land.’

I shrugged. ‘Somehow I had the strength to do what I did. He was going to kill me. I had no choice but to fight back with everything I had.’

Crowhurst stepped close to the bars, looking more distressed than annoyed. ‘I believe Grundler was going to kill you. I just don’t believe you ripped a hole in his chest. Why are you lying? You’re going to be dragged before the Order of Guides and put on trial for the crime of darkcraft. Do you understand how serious that is?’

‘I know, I know.’ I flapped my hands about. ‘What can I do? I have to get a good lawyer. I’ll get him to explain it was self-defence, given I wasn’t the one with razor teeth and five-inch claws.’

‘You know what I think?’ Crowhurst asked. ‘Your friend, Hallow, mentioned that Regulator was there, Roman. I'll wager you he did this, and you’re covering for him.’

‘Seth’s here?’ My eyes flicked behind Crowhurst, as if expecting him to appear.

Crowhurst rolled his eyes, as if I'd asked a stupid question. ‘Who do you think is pulling all the strings to get you bailed out? He doesn’t think you did it either. Be honest. Was it Roman? Was he there with you?’

‘I don’t recall seeing a Regulator at the party.’

Crowhurst’s jaw worked a bit, before he said between clenched teeth, ‘These nephilim, when they go nuts, they go all nuts. If it was Roman, he needs to be dealt with.’

‘You’re giving me a headache,’ I complained. ‘Why don’t you take your doom and gloom somewhere else. Better yet, why don’t you get me a coffee?’

‘You need to report Roman to the Grigori,’ Crowhurst continued, ignoring my order.

My lips tightened, but I kept silent. A feeling of responsibility was winding tight around my chest. If I hadn’t been at the party, Roman wouldn’t have been there either. ‘Any ideas on why Grundler was at Grogan’s estate in the first place?’ I asked, changing the subject.

‘Nothing solid. The City Watch report says Grundler was bruised up, like someone had done a number on him. Grogan is claiming he doesn’t know who Jonas Grundler was, nor how he got onto his property.’

‘Maybe Grundler was working there,’ I mused. ‘Maybe he was hiding out. Grogan wouldn’t know everyone in his household. Doesn’t explain why he looked like he’d been worked over though, or why his beast was deformed.’

I remembered Crowhurst’s cousin, Eli, back at the Gypsy Quarter, telling me about the effects of drugs on griorwolves. My eyes met Crowhurst’s and I saw he’d already reached that conclusion.

‘Rapture.’ He nodded. ‘Guess Jonas Grundler was loaded up with it.’

‘Why would a griorwolf use rapture? And why was he at the Grogan estate?’ I yawned, unable to help myself. ‘Where did he come from?’

‘I'm on my way to the morgue to inspect Grundler’s body for myself. Then I'll go to the Quarter to check on his mother.’ His head cocked to the side with a sharp movement. ‘Someone’s coming.’

A man in a Regulator uniform entered the hallway and I immediately recognised the plaited beard and sea-blue eyes. ‘Regulator Kruger.’ I wondered if he was here to drag me to the Order. Kruger was a human and the last time I'd seen him, he’d been in Roman’s Witch Hunter unit. ‘Are you here on official business?’

‘Lady Blackgoat.’ Kruger looked at Crowhurst. ‘Would you give us a moment of privacy please?’

Crowhurst looked at me questioningly. I nodded, letting him know I'd be fine and he left, shoulders slumped. Considering he was going to visit Grundler’s mother, he probably felt the weight of Jonas’s death just as heavily as I did.

I forced myself to keep silent until Kruger revealed why he was here. The desire to ask about Roman was like a physical need. I needed to know where he was, wanted to know he’d made it back to the Order.

Kruger’s expression grew grave. ‘Do you know where he is?’

Panic rattled through my chest. So Roman hadn’t returned to the compound. Then, where was he?

I put my poker face in play. ‘Who?’

Kruger pulled at his plaited beard. ‘Regulator Roman has been leaving the compound a lot these last few weeks. His brothers have been covering for him, but the absences have been noted. This morning he didn’t show up for his classes. I've got a small window of time to deal with this. He needs to return to the Order before he gets in serious trouble.’

I hesitated. When I'd first met Kruger, he’d shown loyalty to Roman, but how far did that loyalty stretch? The image of the glen flashed in my mind. If Roman wasn’t at the Order, I knew it was the one place he would have most likely gone. My mind whirled, trying to sort through what I could reveal, and what I had to keep hidden. Underpinning it all was the worry that something was very wrong with Roman and Kruger could help me somehow.

‘I don’t know where he is,’ I said finally.

‘Everyone was surprised when he stepped down from his role as Sergeant,’ Kruger said. ‘Did you ask him to do it?’

My eyebrows snapped together. ‘Of course not.’

Kruger tucked his hands behind his back and paced in front of the cell. ‘When I confronted Roman about quitting his unit, and his unexplained absences, he confessed to me what you were.’ He paused mid-step, glancing at me for confirmation. When I said nothing, he continued to pace. ‘He told me you were nephilim. Is that true?’

I arched an eyebrow. ‘Do I look like one?’

‘Looks can be deceiving. I thought he was making it up, or that somehow you had bewitched him.’ Kruger looked pointedly at my hair. I caught one of my hands before I could lift it, as if I could cover the black streaks and roots without him noticing. ‘Now I'm not so sure he was. There are a lot of rumours flying around about you, and they had to come from somewhere.’