Haze
PRAISE FOR SHADOWS
‘One of the best angel books I’ve read, if not the best, with brilliant characters and its own take on the genre which I had previously sworn myself off.’
THE OVERFLOWING LIBRARY
‘
Shadows
’ fast-paced narrative, risqué romance and snappy dialogue kept me absolutely hooked and I stayed up late into the night to finish this book…The smart-mouthed character of Rafa kicked the Edwards, Peters and Jacobs of the YA world to the kerb. If only he were real…’
SUN BOOKSHOP
‘Forget everything you think you know about angels and demons…
Shadows
is, by far, THE book to read…[it is] beyond explosive with a kickass heroine, an amazing storyline with incredible mythology, and a romance sure to heat up even the coldest of hearts.’
WINTER HAVEN BOOKS
‘Fans in need of another angel series after finishing Lauren Kate’s
Fallen
will devour
Shadows
…there’s a heroine—Gaby—to get behind, a boy—Rafa—to fall in love with, as well as the many sides fighting to win you over.’
BOOK PROBE BLOG
‘Oh my God (almost literally)! If this doesn’t drag young adult readers away from their computer screens, nothing will. It will entrance many oldies too. Aussie author Paula Weston’s debut is a fast-paced, sensational ride, which screams “read me” and “turn me into a movie”…it’s a wild start to what should be an even wilder series.’
ADELAIDE ADVERTISER
‘One of the best YA novels I have ever read.’
DARK READERS
‘A breath of fresh air in an over-saturated market…I urge any paranormal fiction fans to pick up a copy immediately.’
WONDROUS READS
‘I have to say that this is in my top of 2012 reads and I’m so glad I picked it up. I can’t wait for the next in his series. If you’re looking for the next incredible paranormal, fallen angel type story…look no further because this is it.’
FIC FARE
‘O-M-freakin-G…This book was AWESOME! So, so, good. Quite possibly my fave Aussie release this year.’
BOOKSWOONING
‘If you told me last week that I’d be fan-girling over a YA urban fantasy series I would’ve stared at you blankly then hurled a copy of
Friday Brown
at your face.
*Quietly eats hat* I loved this book. Loved.’
TRIN IN THE WIND
‘Tough, smart and refreshing…not to mention it’s the best angel-themed book I have read.’
ALPHA READER
‘This book should be right at the top of your wishlists.’
INKCRUSH
‘It’s got angels, it’s got demons, it’s got hot guys, it’s got sword fighting and it’s got a strong female lead. What else could you ask for?’
SHARPEWORDS
Paula Weston lives in Brisbane with her husband. She reads widely, and is addicted to paranormal stories.
Haze
is the second book in the Rephaim series.
Shadows
was the first.
HAZE
PAULA WESTON
The Text Publishing Company
Swann House
22 William Street
Melbourne Victoria 3000
Australia
Copyright © Paula Weston 2013
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright above, no part of this publication shall be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior permission of both the copy right owner and the publisher of this book
First published by The Text Publishing Company in 2013
Cover design by obroberts
Cover photograph by Eduardo Diaz/Arcangel Images
Page design by Imogen Stubbs
Typeset by J&M Typesetters
Printed in Australia by Griffin Press, an Accredited ISO AS/NZS
14001:2004 Environmental Management System printer
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry
Author: Weston, Paula.
Title: Shadows / Paula Weston.
ISBN: 9781922079923 (pbk.)
ISBN: 9781922148599(ebook.)
Series: Weston, Paula. Rephaim ; bk 2.
Target Audience: For young adults.
Subjects: Nightmares—Fiction. Angels—Fiction. War stories.
Dewey Number: A823.4
F
OR
F
REDDIE
IN THE STILL OF THE NIGHT
I almost wish I still had the blood-soaked dream of the nightclub.
At least then I’d be asleep, not lying here in the dark chasing thoughts I’ll never catch. The jacaranda tree outside is still in the warm night; the moon casts a slight shadow of its twisted branches against the wall.
It’s the quiet moments like this that get me, when it’s impossible to pretend I have a grip on everything that’s happened in the past week. In the daylight, in this bungalow, I can fool myself into thinking I still have control over my life. But here in the dark I know that’s a lie. And my life already has too many lies. For a year I believed four things: that my twin brother died in a car accident; that nothing in my life would matter as much as that; that my violent dreams are not real; that my memories from before are so faded because I was badly hurt in the accident that killed Jude.
It turns out none of these things are true, and it’s the truth that keeps me awake. The biggest truth of all: Jude might be alive.
The shadow shifts on the wall, sharpens, blurs. The ache comes back into my chest. The possibility that I’ll see Jude again, the cruel hope of it, never fails to take the breath out of me.
A year of hurting and missing him.
A year of nightmares.
And now the truth. The impossible truth.
My eyes track to the mattress on the floor next to my bed; Rafa’s boots are beside it. The TV is on in the lounge room, volume low, blue light flickering under my door. Through the thin walls I can hear Maggie stirring in her room. Jason might be in there with her, but chances are he’s on the couch in the lounge room, ignoring Rafa or being ignored by Rafa, still thinking of ways to make amends for not telling her he’s one of us. Maggie’s forgiven me because I didn’t know.
How is Maggie sleeping? Is she dreaming of demons? Or of the three Rephaim who held her hostage up the mountain to get to me? I wish I could undo Monday and Tuesday night. I wish I could remember what it is everyone wants me to remember. What Jude and I actually did a year ago. It’s not that I don’t want to.
I roll over in bed, stare at the silhouette of the old tree outside and the smattering of stars beyond it.
Rafa says we’re safe for now, but given he’s sleeping on my floor instead of in his own bed at the shack he can’t really believe that.
Not that he spends all night on the floor.
I turn again, kick the sheet off. Pull it back over me again. God, I need to sleep.
The TV goes quiet in the other room. A few seconds later my door opens and closes, floorboards creak beside the bed.
Silence. I breathe as though I’m sleeping. I can feel him listening. And then a zip slides undone, clothes drop to the floor and Rafa slips under the sheet with me. Warmth radiates from him. His movements are slow, careful. His breath soft on my skin.
Like last night, he doesn’t touch me. The night before, Tuesday night—after the attack at the Retreat when we got Maggie back—I leaned against him when he settled behind me. As soon as our bodies touched he went straight back to the mattress on the floor. Shifted from my bed to his. It’s one of the more annoying talents of the Rephaim—their ability to be somewhere else in the blink of an eye. He didn’t say anything. No explanation. No smartarse comment.
So, since then, we don’t touch and we don’t talk and he stays. We’ve slept beside each other before—on the couch on Patmos, when Rafa told me who I was.
What
I was. Then he was teasing, testing me. This closeness is different. Almost restrained. There’s no sign of this Rafa during daylight hours. I know he doesn’t want to finish what we started in his bedroom, but why sleep in my bed if he doesn’t want the temptation?
He gets comfortable behind me, so close I can almost feel him. Almost. A deep sigh shifts my hair, tickles my neck. I close my eyes.
He knows I’m not asleep; he has to. So is he testing me or himself?
One week. That’s how long it’s taken to get this complicated. That’s how long I’ve known Rafa. He’s known me for a lot longer, but I don’t remember it so it doesn’t count. I don’t remember anything that’s true before I woke up in hospital a year ago. I don’t remember anything about my life with the Rephaim.
I should roll over, say something. Talk about Jude. Talk about the Rephaim and what their next move will be. Demand to know what happened between Rafa and me—that other version of me—all those years ago. Ask him to tell me again what he knows about the fight that Jude and I had, and why we made up ten years later, and what it was we did a year ago that nearly killed me. But he doesn’t have answers and I don’t want him to leave my bed. I don’t want to be alone with those other thoughts.
‘Can you keep it down,’ Rafa says. ‘I can hear you thinking from here.’
Typical. He even breaks his own rules. Outside the stars disappear behind a bank of clouds.
‘Gabe.’
I sigh. How many times do I have to tell him? I swear he calls me that other name just to get a reaction. I pull the sheet over my shoulders to my chin.
‘
Gaby
,’ he says. ‘We can’t put it off any longer.’ He still doesn’t touch me.
‘What?’ I keep my back to him. I know what’s coming next: the one thing guaranteed to keep me awake a while longer.
‘Tomorrow we go to Melbourne and start looking for Jude.’
FREEFALLING
‘You don’t have to do this,’ I say to Jude.
‘Yeah, I do.’ He grins at me and then catches the eye of the girl testing the straps around his legs. She stands up, double-checks the clips and harnesses around his chest and hips. Once, twice. Blushes under his gaze. Honestly, how many backpackers have flirted with her, and still Jude gets a reaction?
Her offsider is calling out as he goes through his equipment and mechanical checklist. Music pounds around us: dirty guitars and fuzzy keyboards thumping out of speakers. The cable car moves under our feet and a breeze pushes the hair from my face. I don’t have to look over the edge; I can feel the pull of that gaping space from here. We’re up so high there are wispy clouds below us. My lungs constrict and I don’t know if it’s because the air is thin or because Jude is about to jump, leaving me here alone. I shouldn’t be here, but Jude sweet-talked the jump coordinator into bringing me with him.
‘You ready?’ someone shouts from the other cable car, which is now heading back down. It’s the blue-haired Korean guy from the tour group we hung out with in the village last night.
‘I was born ready,’ Jude calls back. His eyes are bright. ‘Hundred and forty metre freefall, baby!’
They salute each other with a fist held out straight, as if they’re symbolically bumping knuckles across the empty space.
I knew we shouldn’t have come to Switzerland.
‘Jude,’ I say, forcing his attention back to me. ‘What if something happens to you?’
‘Princess, nothing’s going to happen. Look around, these guys know what they’re doing.’
