Haze (17 page)

‘Jude…’ My chest is in a vice. I can’t get his name out clearly. ‘Jude…?’

I turn my neck enough to see him hanging there beside me. He’s so still, and there’s so much blood…I check to see if he’s breathing, reach out for him. But there’s a guide-post through the window, in the way. And it’s only then I realise the guidepost is where his head should be.

SAY IT OUT LOUD

I wake up screaming.

‘Calm down. Calm DOWN!’ Strong hands pin me. I thrash against them, relieved I can still move. And then all at once I know where I am: on an uncomfortable bed in Dubai—not lying broken and bleeding on the side of the road in Australia. Rafa is leaning over me, one knee on the bunk, gripping my arms.

‘What the fuck?’

‘I’m okay.’ I go still beneath him, let out my breath. Try to slow my pulse. ‘I’m fine.’

He eases the pressure but doesn’t let go of me. ‘What the hell was that?’

I close my eyes. ‘Nightmare.’

‘The nightclub?’

I turn my head to the side so I don’t have to look at him. ‘The crash.’ The words come out thick.

‘It wasn’t real,’ he says. When I don’t respond, he leans closer. ‘Gaby.’ He waits until I face him. ‘It didn’t happen.’

‘I know, but…’ Tears spill down my cheeks and my throat is swollen. ‘It feels so real.’

He sits on the mattress, not taking his eyes from me. ‘We’re going to find him.’

I bite my lip and turn away again.

‘What? What are you so scared of?’

I stare at the scuffed wall. If I look at him, I won’t be able to get the words out. And I have to. It’s time. I need him to understand.

‘What if…’ I swallow. ‘What if he remembers who he is? What if he doesn’t want to be found? Or what if he wants Gabe, not me?’ As soon as the words are out I feel exposed, hollow.

‘Gaby.’ His fingers lift to my face, hesitate, and then push a strand of hair out of my eyes. ‘How could he not want you?’

‘I’m not Gabe.’

‘It won’t matter, trust me.’

My eyes burn.

‘Is this why you’ve been stalling? Why didn’t you say something? Gaby, look at me.’

I wet my lips, force myself to face him.

Rafa is more serious than I’ve ever seen him. Whatever was in his eyes when we were sparring has gone.

‘We’re going to deal with this mess in LA and then we’re going to get him. I don’t care what it takes or who we have to go through. Or how much it scares you.’

‘But what if we can’t find him?’

His breath is warm against my skin. ‘If he’s alive, we’ll find him.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ I badly want to believe him, but this is Rafa. The guy who’s all action and no plan.

His smile is tired, knowing. An echo of a shared past I don’t remember. ‘Because I’m not smart enough to give up, and you don’t know how to.’

We watch each other, and it’s like that moment on Patmos when he found me clutching a photo of Jude, completely undone. The moment I understood my life was a lie and the brother I knew never existed—at least not the way I remembered him. And just as he was then, Rafa is gentle, thoughtful. I never see this side of him any other time. Only when I’m at my lowest, when I’m the least like the Gabe he remembers. Maybe that’s the only time he’s willing to drop his guard. Right now I wish he’d drop it a little further and hold me.

Rafa digs into his duffel bag and offers me a towel. I touch my cheeks. They’re hot, tear-streaked. I sit up and wipe my face.

‘What if Jude remembers you and not me?’ Rafa says. ‘You ever think of that?’

I blink. I hadn’t. I move my legs so we’re side by side on the edge of the bed. I half-expect him to make room, but he doesn’t and I don’t mind. Our shoulders and knees touch. I’m not thinking about Patmos now. I’m thinking about the sand on his back earlier today.

‘Were you and Jude always best mates?’ I ask. ‘From the start?’

He takes the towel from me, tosses it over the bag. ‘I don’t remember not knowing him. Or you. We were about six the first time we all got into trouble together.’ His lips curve. ‘Brother Roberto—long gone now—always made these sweet ladies’ kisses—’

‘Ladies’ what?’

‘Kisses. Biscuits made from hazelnut meal with chocolate cream in the middle. Brother Roberto called them
biscotti crèma
and we’d tease him until he called them by their real name. Blushed every time.’ He gives a small smile at the memory. ‘Anyway, you were obsessed with them. Talked Jude and me into sneaking into the kitchen with you.’

I raise my eyebrows at him. ‘I talked you and Jude into it?’

‘Yeah—you were always the instigator.’ He bumps his shoulder against mine, gently. I find myself smiling. ‘Naturally, Brother Roberto caught us and gave us a lecture about stealing. Dragged the three of us by our shirts to Nathaniel.’

‘And what did he do?’ This is the first time I’ve heard a story about my childhood: about Jude, Rafa and me running around together as kids. It’s strange—and comforting.

‘Nathaniel turned it into a lesson: made us practise moving about quietly, undetected. For about six hours.’

‘Seriously?’

‘No time to waste when you’re building an army.’ Is it sarcasm or bitterness I hear in his voice? Rafa stands up and pulls me to my feet. ‘Let’s get out of here for a while.’

‘Where?’

‘I know a decent coffee house down by the Creek.’

We face each other, standing close. He hesitates for a moment. Then his fingertips brush my elbows, guiding me closer to him for the shift. He holds me carefully.

We arrive in an alley as the call to prayer blares out from a nearby mosque. It reverberates in my chest. After the iciness of the shift, the air here is a warm bath. Rafa laces his fingers through mine and leads me along the promenade under a dark purple sky. The sun is almost gone and a few lights are on in the buildings across the water. Beside us, the Dubai Creek is crowded with dozens of flimsy wooden boats ferrying workers. The drivers shout at each other, jostling for space to dock. I breathe in diesel fumes and garlic.

We find a seat at the coffee house and order thick, strong Arabic coffee. It’s poured from a traditional coffee pot into tiny bronze cups, and served with bowls of sweet, fat dates and Turkish delight. The first mouthful of sugary dessert brings a vivid memory: of Jude and me in Istanbul, eating so much one afternoon we had to go back to the hostel to sleep it off. Again—it never happened. Right now, I’d kill for something real, something that’s mine—that I understand. I thought all this would get easier. I was wrong.

‘Anything else I need to know about?’ Rafa dusts icing sugar from his fingers.

I watch him over the rim of my cup as I take a sip. It’s strong, earthy. Exactly how I want it.

‘Like what?’

‘Like anything Mya might have said to you.’

Did Ez tell him? No. He knows Mya well enough to know she wouldn’t have been able to stay away from me. I glance around the coffee house. Men in crisp white robes are seated at the table next to us, red-chequered head-cloths held in place with twisted black rope. They pay no attention to us. They couldn’t care less what Mya said to me. I take a deep breath.

‘She wanted to tell me her theory about what happened between you and me before you guys left the Sanctuary.’

There’s the smallest twitch in Rafa’s jaw. He doesn’t speak, so I push on. I wish I hadn’t eaten that Turkish delight. The sweetness is cloying now.

‘She said I tried to hook up with you and you weren’t interested. That’s what we fought about: that I didn’t take rejection well.’ I try to smile as if I’m in on the joke.

Rafa still doesn’t say anything and I can’t read him.

‘Is it true?’

‘No.’

‘That’s it? That’s all you have.’

‘That’s all we’ve got time for.’

Anger flares. After feeling off-balance for the past few hours, I can’t help but embrace it. ‘Make time.’

‘What, you believe her?’

‘Well, you won’t tell me what happened between us so what am I supposed to think?’

He rolls his shoulders. ‘Can you at least wait until we find out if Jude’s alive?’

‘No.’

An impatient sigh. He shifts position. ‘You know that nothing in our world is simple, right?’

I wait.

‘What went down between you and me, it’s more than a five-minute conversation. I’m not going to attempt it now, not when we need to focus on what’s going to happen in LA.’ He fidgets with his spoon.

He’s uncomfortable. Good.

‘Let’s get this job sorted first,’ he says.

I put my cup down. ‘Do you know how hard it is when everyone else knows more about my past than I do? I had to listen to Mya telling me I humiliated myself with you, and I couldn’t defend myself because I don’t remember what I did.’

‘Gaby…’ Rafa runs his tongue over his lips. Takes a breath. ‘You didn’t humiliate yourself. In any way.’ He checks I understand what he’s saying.

I do.

I sit back in my chair, let his words settle around me.

Rafa’s phone rings. He’s not happy when he sees who it is. ‘What now?’ he says by way of greeting. He listens. ‘Perfect—the job’s gone to shit before we even get there.’ A glance at me. ‘We’ll be there in a minute.’

‘What’s happening?’

‘We’re going in early. Mya’s briefing the others now.’ He finishes his coffee. ‘We need to go.’

Back in the alley, I don’t go to him immediately. I should be thinking about LA, but I’m still stuck on our conversation. Rafa says I didn’t humiliate myself, but I’m not sure I can believe him. I hope he doesn’t think this is over.

‘Ready?’ He waits for a beat and then closes the space between us. One arm slips around my waist, the other around my shoulders. ‘I’m sorry about the training session,’ he says into my hair.

For a second I think he’s going to say something else. But then he draws me closer. I sigh, trace his lean muscles through his t-shirt. We stand there longer than we need to. And then Rafa tightens his grip and the ground drops from beneath us.

TIMING IS EVERYTHING

Everyone is in the training room, huddled around Mya. Voices raised.

‘About time,’ she says when she sees us. I avoid her eye and we join the throng near Ez and Zak and the discussion resumes.

‘How many on the streets?’

‘A couple of hundred as of ten minutes ago, but the word’s out so it will get worse, fast.’

‘Armed?’

‘Yes.’

‘Cops?’

‘Arriving as we speak and the riot squad’s on the way.’ A pause as everyone takes in that piece of news.

‘What happened?’ Rafa asks Jones, not Mya.

‘Kids,’ Jones says. ‘Wrong place, wrong time. They got caught in a shoot-out twenty minutes ago. Three are dead. The retaliation was brutal and now it’s an all-out war a couple of blocks from our target.’

Rafa catches Mya’s eye. ‘A street war nearby? You think that’s a coincidence?’

‘No,’ she snaps, ‘but it doesn’t change the fact we’ve got a job to do. It means we can’t wait until the shift changes. We need to get in now and clean it out before the whole neighbourhood explodes.’

I look from one to the other. So now it’s not only child predators and demons we’ve got to deal with, it’s also armed gangs.

Tremendous.

‘You sure those kids are still there?’ Rafa asks.

‘Yes.’

‘Confirmed?’

Mya gives him an impatient look. ‘Jess called five minutes ago.’

‘Does this change the plan?’

‘Morning, afternoon—what’s the difference? At least now there’s a distraction to keep the cops out of our way. Look, I’ll go in on my own if I have to,’ she says.

Rafa’s laugh is harsh. ‘Don’t be such a martyr. We’re all going. But let’s not pretend this is anything other than an ambush, okay?’

‘Then keep your eyes open.’ Mya looks around the group. ‘Be ready in five.’

Ez taps my arm. ‘We need to change.’

We’re shifting as soon as I nod…and then we’re back at our bunks. Shit. This is really happening. I rifle through my bag for combat clothes. I’ve pulled off the singlet and am standing in my bra and jeans when Rafa and Zak arrive. Zak pretends not to notice I’m half-dressed, but Rafa looks me over. Slowly. I pull on a black t-shirt and by the time I’m covered, he’s helping with the weapons.

I tie a hoodie around my waist. ‘What am I taking?’ I ask Ez. She’s wearing regulation Rephaite black jeans and t-shirt, her knives already strapped to her arms.

‘This.’ She tosses me Jude’s training katana. I catch it, easier now. ‘And this.’ A short dagger in a leather pouch.

I look from the weapon to my body. ‘Where am I supposed to put that?’

‘Here.’ Rafa steps closer and slides the pouch inside the top of my jeans, against my hipbone. The hilt sits up under my t-shirt. We’re so close I smell lingering sweetness on his breath. He repositions the knife inside my jeans, the backs of his fingers brushing against my skin.

‘Isn’t that a little dangerous?’ I say, ignoring the heat radiating out from his touch.

‘But very handy for in-close fighting.’ He strokes my hip one last time.

Ez picks up a katana, spins it by the hilt. ‘You two ready then?’

We shift back to the training room. I step away from Rafa as soon as I’ve got my legs back. I need to concentrate.

It looks like everyone’s here, all armed with knives, swords and a couple of poleaxes. But how effective is all this steel going to be against guns?

Mya has the map out again on the floor.

‘Rafa, Ez, Zak, Jones and Gabe—you’re with me. We’ll go in through the back and downstairs to the kids. You lot’—she points to a cluster of ten Outcasts including the tall blond, Seth—‘cover the streets front and back, keep anyone from coming in. Everyone else stay close to the main entrance and be ready to come in on my signal. If all goes to plan, we’ll be in and out of the basement before they know what’s hit them. No shifting unless absolutely critical.’ She’s all business now, focused.

‘Where’s Jess going to be?’ Ez asks.

‘She’s in the club. She’ll come downstairs to lead the kids out when she hears from me.’ Mya rolls up the map, tosses it behind her, adjusts the sword strapped to her back. Her eyes are bright, fierce. She looks at me. ‘Are you ready for this?’

No. But it’s a bit late to say it.