Shadows (14 page)

‘Your place or Rafa’s?’ Jason asks.

The fire is completely out and we’re ready to go.

‘Mine,’ I say.

‘Which room?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Rafa takes me by the elbow. ‘I’ll look after that. You worry about healing her. I can manage both, but you don’t have the skill.’

As he has every time, Rafa pulls me to him and, almost out of habit, I slide my arms around him. We shift to the bathroom at the bungalow, to the smell of cherry blossom shampoo and Maggie’s Chanel No. 5. The room settles around us, and the sound of the ocean replaces the wind.

Home.

Jason looks at me, and slips away.

I lean against Rafa while the feeling comes back into my body.

‘Gabe,’ he says, and swallows. ‘It’s okay. Please don’t cry.’

‘I’m not.’ I brush my face against his t-shirt.

He rubs my back, sighs. ‘You never used to do this, you know.’

‘What, I didn’t cry?’

‘Not in front of me.’

I’m still hanging on to him. His hand settles in the small of my back.

‘You never cared this much about people either, apart from Jude.’

I look up at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It usually took you a decade or so before you decided you liked someone, let alone got close to them.’

‘Yeah, well, I’m not that person. I’m not Gabe.’

He raises his eyebrows at me.

‘Okay, so maybe I don’t make friends as easily as some people. But with Mags, it’s different. We just clicked. It’s like I’ve known her forever.’ I rub my eyes, weary again. ‘How was the shift? Easier that time?’

He nods. ‘You feel just about mended. But you’ve ruined my shirt.’

I look down and see the cotton is flecked with dried blood. ‘You’re the one who insists on keeping me close.’

His lips twitch and he stands back to get a better look
at me. All traces of playfulness disappear. ‘Let me see.’ He reaches for the hem of my ruined shirt, but waits for me to nod before lifting it. He examines the dressing and then sits on the edge of the bath. I hold up the tattered fabric as he carefully removes the bandages from my side.

‘That doesn’t look too bad.’ He runs his fingertips lightly over the wound. The claw marks have healed closed, and black sutures stick out of the puckered flesh. Rafa takes tweezers and small scissors from a chipped mug on the sink. ‘This’ll feel weird, but it won’t hurt.’

‘I’ve had stitches before.’

He glances up.

‘From the accident.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ He works quickly and soon has them out. ‘Sixteen.’ He holds out his palm to show me. ‘Let me see your neck.’

Again he peels off the bandages with studied care. How many times has he done this over the years? How many times has he done it for me?

He makes a small noise of disapproval. ‘This is going to scar pretty bad.’

I touch the spot above my collarbone where the hellion fed from me. I can’t make sense of what I feel, so I go to the mirror. It looks like I’ve been bitten by a shark—a small shark with two rows of sharp teeth. The yellow bruise has
two arcs of punctures, all of them closed over but still red and angry.

‘I guess I should be glad it didn’t bite through.’ I join the dots with my fingertip, completing the circle.

Rafa comes up behind me. ‘It’ll fade. You’ll just have to grow your hair to cover it.’

Like my hair doesn’t already have a big enough job covering that other monstrosity on my neck.

‘I need a shower.’

‘You really do.’ Rafa gives me a half-smile in the mirror. ‘You want a hand?’

‘I’ll be fine.’

He doesn’t move. Is he going to touch me again?

‘I hear you’ve been with every Rephaite in a skirt.’

Crap. Where did that come from?

‘Who told you that?’ His smile shifts into something less amused. ‘Daniel. Who else? The prick.’

‘Is he a liar?’

Rafa leans against the pale wall. ‘I haven’t been with
everyone.’

‘What about Taya?’

‘Hell, no. I’m no monk, but I have standards.’

I wonder what else Daniel was wrong about. ‘What about me?’

Rafa’s teasing smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘You had standards too.’

I turn away so he can’t see the heat climbing my cheeks. ‘I won’t be long. See you in the kitchen.’

I wait until I hear the door shut but still turn to check he’s on the other side of it. Then I peel off my clothes and throw them in the corner, for burning at the first opportunity. The water pressure is as weak as ever, but I’m okay with gentleness. I rest my head against the tiles and let its warmth wash over me. Slowly, I come back into my body again. Here, in this old bathroom, I’m more myself than at any point at the Sanctuary. The water circling down the drain finally runs clear instead of reddish-brown.

I put on a white t-shirt and black skirt. For once, the long scar across my knee seems inconsequential. I have to tie my hair back—Bryce won’t have it any other way if I’m serving food—so I grab a lime-green silk scarf from Maggie’s collection to cover the bite marks.

The guys are in the kitchen. Rafa is reading the paper and Jason is rummaging in the fridge, pulling out our collection of almost empty jam jars. The smell of fresh toast makes my stomach rumble.

‘You could have told me they keep hellions at the Sanctuary,’ I say to Rafa, but not with any accusation. I put the scarf aside to help Jason butter toast.

‘I didn’t know they did. It makes no sense. They’re useless as prisoners because they’ve got the vocabulary of a warthog and the brain function of a slug, and
only an idiot would use them for training.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘It’s not worth the risk. If they get a taste of one of us and manage to escape, they can track us—’ His face changes. ‘Son of a bitch.’

‘What?’

Rafa shakes his head slowly. ‘That’s why they let it in the cage. The Five didn’t want the hell-turd to kill you, just to get a taste of you. They must have been planning to let you go, and then get it to track you, although I don’t know how they thought they were going to control it.’

‘But why? They have to know this is the only place I’d come.’

‘They think you’re going to lead them to the Fallen. But now you’ve gone and cut the head off their bloodhound.’ He gives a short laugh and flicks through the paper to the sports section. ‘God, I wish I could’ve seen Pretty Boy’s face.’

I try to absorb this theory. I can’t.

‘Why do they still want Mags?’ Jason asks.

‘They never wanted her,’ Rafa says. ‘She’s just a way to Gabe.’

‘Then they don’t need her anymore.’

‘They need her now more than ever. Your little girlfriend is the only bargaining chip they’ve got.’

He’s right, but I don’t want to think about what that means.

‘Aside from Daniel, who else is part of the Five?’ I pick up the scarf and loop it around my neck. It won’t sit the way I want it to.

‘As far as I know, it’s still Zeb, Calista, Uriel and Magda. Daniel and Calista used to be soldiers, and Uriel still goes on a few missions. Zeb’s a priest and Magda’s a professor of psychology or philosophy or some such shit. Nathaniel likes to have all three Rephaite disciplines covered.’ Rafa counts them off on his fingers. ‘Military, religious, academic.’

I fiddle with the scarf again. Accessories are not my thing. Maggie would have me sorted in no time. Even Daniel would have more of an idea about how to wear a scarf than I do.

I toss it on the table.

Rafa raises his eyebrows. ‘I bet Goldilocks can fix that for you.’

Jason snatches it up. ‘It’s not rocket science.’ He loops the scarf over my head, twists it inside itself and turns it so it sits over the bite.

‘Let me guess—a semester at fashion school?’

‘I’ve spent a lot of time around women.’

I want to ask which women in particular, but I know he’s not going to talk about his past in front of Rafa.

‘Did Daniel get a good look at you at the Sanctuary?’ I ask.

‘It doesn’t matter anymore. Not now I know they can’t force me to shift.’

Rafa flicks the paper shut. ‘How the hell have you managed to keep a head on your shoulders all these years?’

‘By keeping a low profile.’

‘More like dodging responsibility.’

I sigh. ‘Are you two going to bicker the whole time I’m gone?’

‘What are you talking about? I’m coming with you,’ Rafa says.

‘Me too,’ Jason says. ‘I want to be there if Taya shows up.’

I fiddle with the silk, trying to figure out how Jason looped it.

‘And what’s the plan when she—or anyone else—arrives?’

Jason and I both look to Rafa. He’s picking at a spot of dried blood on his shirt.

‘I’ll think of something.’

I’d kind of been hoping for more than that.

Jason parks the car on the beach side of the esplanade and they watch me cross the road to the Green Bean.

The outdoor tables are packed with sunburnt tourists, sipping lattes and watching the surf roll in. The only locals I recognise are the Williamsons, already done with their morning walk. They look up from their croissants and wave. I check my hair and my story, and go inside. Maggie’s mum spots me from behind the counter.

‘Gaby, where is Margaret Jane?’

I force a sheepish grin. ‘Hi, Mrs Bailey. Sorry for the late notice. I’ve pinched a shift today if that’s okay.’

She gives me her best I-wasn’t-born-yesterday look. Bryce Bailey is blonde, like Maggie, with the same fine bone structure and huge brown eyes. Her fingernails are
polished and her designer white linen dress is pristine. Bryce wears her grief like an old scar: it’s always there, but you have to look for it.

‘I know Thomas had his party last night, but Margaret is well aware she has responsibilities.’

I straighten the sugar packets on the counter. A chair scrapes behind me. ‘To be honest, I’m a bit short on cash this week, so she’s really doing me a favour.’

‘You’re not working in the library today?’

I shake my head.

She purses her lips. ‘Clear the outside tables. Then you can help Connie. Have you been using that espresso machine I gave you?’

‘Every day.’ With Maggie hanging over my shoulder, giving me instructions.

I bury the memory before it gives me away. The only thing I can do to help Maggie right now is cover this shift.

It helps that everything in here is so familiar: the smell of coffee and croissants, shelves crammed with organic tea and scented candles, and the world music Bryce plays all day.

I dump my bag, tie on an apron and start clearing dirty crockery from the recycled timber tables outside. By my third trip, a couple of tables have emptied, and I stop to wipe them down. The sun is deliciously warm. I close my eyes and turn my face to it. It’s hard to believe it was only
a few hours ago I thought I was never going to feel that comfort on my skin again.

The beach is busy, but not as packed as it was in the height of summer. A few puddles on the road are the only signs of last night’s storm. I breathe in deeply, tasting the salt on the back of my tongue.

In the life I remember, Jude and I explored the world. The other me, the real me, must be as well travelled, probably more so—I can’t quite get my head around how old I am. But Pan Beach is one of the few places I
know
I’ve been, the closest thing I have to a home. How could I not come back? How could I not come back when I know the trouble I’ve brought here?

A loud wolfwhistle snaps me back to the moment. It’s the hoodie brigade outside the greasy takeaway a few doors down. They live on the far side of town in fibro houses with car wrecks in the front yards. One day they’ll join their tattooed older brothers at the Imperial Hotel, on the next street over. In the meantime, the esplanade is their domain.

One of the boys grabs himself and licks his lips in my direction. I shake my head and discreetly give him a middle-finger salute—which they all cheer—and go back inside with my dirty plates. Bryce points me to the library service window, where Gaz is waiting.

‘Hey, Gabzilla, you’re on the wrong side.’ Gaz gestures
to my neck. ‘You get a little action up at the falls last night?’

‘Jealous?’ I check the scarf is still covering the bite and wonder if anyone’s been talking about Maggie’s dramatic departure from the party. ‘Caramel latte?’ I ask Gaz.

‘Puhlease…’ He taps his black fingernails on the ledge. ‘Flat white. Double shot. Two sugars. Fat milk.’

I write it down and stick it in front of Connie, the barista. She gives a curt nod and pours a long line of cappuccinos, each with a perfect heart in the foam.

‘Table seven,’ she barks at me.

I take two steps and stop. Simon is at the counter, placing an order with Bryce.

So much has happened since Rafa threw him aside last night. But all he’s going to see is a girl who left a party with another guy.

He gets his change, turns and stops. I stand there, holding the tray of coffee. ‘Hey,’ I say. I shouldn’t have kissed him last night. It was selfish and stupid, and it’s created yet another mess I have to clean up.

‘Hey.’ He mumbles it more to my shoes than me. He can’t even look at me. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Oh…Mags wanted a day off.’

‘Is she all right?’ His gaze lifts for a second and mine shifts.

‘Just a bit seedy.’

Simon gestures to the tray. ‘Someone probably wants those.’

I nod. Not only am I a dud date, I’m also a dud waitress. I take the order to table seven, and get back inside in time to put the lid on Gaz’s coffee and hand it to him. He points at my neck.

‘Did
Simon
do that to you?’ he asks, way too loud.

I shoot him a foul look. ‘Get back to work before Jane kicks your arse.’

‘Ooooh, touchy.’ And then he’s gone, but his taunt lingers like cheap perfume. On the other side of the counter, Simon is staring accusingly at my neck.

‘What’s under there?’ he gestures to Maggie’s scarf. Any embarrassment he felt about last night seems to have taken a backseat to something stronger.

‘Nothing,’ I say, willing Connie to hurry up with his coffee so he can go before Rafa or Jason arrive. But she’s got another order ready, so I pretend he’s not there and head outside.

Most people wait for takeaway coffee on one of the Balinese day beds, but Simon stands right in my path when I go back inside. I can’t get behind the counter without walking by him. Given the black look on his face, there’s no chance he’s going to step aside.

‘I have to work,’ I say. ‘Can we talk later?’

He blocks me. ‘You made me look like an idiot last
night.’ To his credit, his voice is low so only I can hear. ‘Was I just bait to make that dickhead jealous?’

I glance around, but no one’s paying attention to us. ‘There’s stuff going on that I can’t begin to explain,’ I say, ‘but I promise you I did not intend last night to end the way it did.’
That’s
the understatement of the year. ‘I’m really sorry for the way I left the party, but I can’t talk about it here.’

I go to move past and, before I can stop him, those quick hands lift the scarf from my neck.

‘Hey!’ I pull away from him, but not fast enough.

‘What the fuck…?’ Simon’s hand drops to his side.

I put the scarf back in place, and look into his eyes.
Let it go.

‘Did he do that?’

‘Of course not.’ I push past him, and he follows, taking my arm.

‘What did that?’ Simon says in my ear.

I spin around. ‘Back off.’

He takes a step back, almost involuntarily.

‘Just let me do my job.’

His coffee is ready. I jam the lid on and slide it towards him.

‘Gaby…’

A flash of blond hair catches my eye. It’s Jason. He glances our way, gives me a casual nod, and then joins
the short queue at the counter. Simon follows my gaze.

‘What’s he doing here without Mags?’

‘They’re not joined at the hip.’

Connie thumps the milk jug on the counter to settle the froth, getting my attention long enough to glare at me.

‘Didn’t he stay at your place last night?’ Simon presses.

‘So? Maybe he feels like coffee and he’s letting Mags sleep in.’

I grab the next order and head out again, catching Jason as he leaves the counter.

‘Simon’s seen the mark on my neck,’ I say, walking with him.

‘What did you tell him?’

‘Nothing. But he’s not going to let it go.’

‘Leave it with me.’

Jason leads Simon to a table against the wall. They pull up chairs under a watercolour of a yacht on wild seas.

I’ve delivered skinny mocha-lattes and chocolate éclairs to a table of flushed women in cycling gear, when I spot Rafa walking towards the cafe. He’s scanning both sides of the street, his hands in his pockets.

I catch his eye and shake my head to warn him off, but of course he just keeps coming. I meet him halfway.

‘Simon’s inside.’

‘So?’

‘He saw my neck.’

‘How the hell did that happen?’

‘He grabbed this.’ I lift the scarf to demonstrate.

Rafa stares at me. ‘You managed to decapitate a hellion, but you can’t stop a barman from touching a
scarf?’

‘Slightly different circumstances,’ I say, stung. ‘Jason’s in there trying to handle the situation.’

‘Well, then, we can all rest easy. No chance that’ll go pear-shaped.’

‘What’s your problem with Jason?’

‘You mean aside from the fact he’s been swanning around for decades without a care in the world? How about the way he lied to both of us about who he was? Or the way he’s still lying?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘How does he know so much about us if he’s never mixed with Rephaim? He’s too cagey about his past. I don’t trust him.’

I squint against the sun. ‘Well, I do.’

‘And your judgment has worked out so well this far.’

I’m tempted to smack him across the side of the head with my empty tray. ‘Yeah, well, I trust you too. Is that bad judgment?’

His lack of a comeback is immensely satisfying.

Rafa follows me back to the cafe and sits outside, at a table against the window. It’s tucked behind a pot plant, but he’ll be able to see inside.

One of the other waitresses, Nicky, grins at me when I pass her.

‘Who’s the hottie?’

‘Trouble,’ I say.

She winks. ‘Half your luck.’

I take two more orders out before Jason’s is ready.

‘You could have just told me,’ Simon says when I reach the table.

‘Told you what?’

‘The truth, Gaby,’ Jason says, holding my gaze with enough intensity that I let him finish. ‘About Jude finding out something he shouldn’t have before he died. About the people looking for you, and how they took Maggie to get at you. How you said you’d go with them if they let Maggie go.’

‘And what they did to you.’ Simon’s eyes flick to my neck. His anger has diffused a little. His anxiety hasn’t.

‘We just let that girl take her,’ he says to Jason. ‘You lied to us, and we all let it happen.’

I bang Jason’s cappuccino down on the table; the coffee spills into the saucer. ‘If he didn’t, everyone at the party might have had a night like me.’

Simon studies his cup, turns it around a few times, takes the lid off. ‘How does he fit into all this?’

He means Rafa.

‘Like I told you, he’s a mate of my brother’s.’ I wipe my
hands on my apron. ‘A lot of people thought I died with Jude. When Rafa found out I was alive, he came looking for me. So did the people who took Maggie.’

‘Do you know what it was Jude found out?’

‘Not a clue.’

‘Order up!’ Connie shouts at me from behind the machine.

‘I’ll be back.’

I take an espresso outside to Rafa and fill him in. He completely misses the cleverness of Jason’s half-lies.

‘This is bullshit. Now the barman’s going to want to play hero, and I’m telling you right now, I’m not babysitting your little boyfriend.’

‘I didn’t ask you to,’ I say, wishing for once he would act his age. ‘I have no intention of involving him. And he’s not my boyfriend.’

Rafa begins to stand. ‘I’ll sort this out.’

I put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Just give Jason a chance.’

Rafa lets me push him back into his seat. His green eyes are unnaturally bright in the sunlight.

‘He’s got till I finish this coffee.’

I make my way inside.

‘You have to tell the cops,’ Simon says to me.

‘No,’ I say. ‘And neither can you.’

‘But—’

‘You’ll get her killed.’

I’m about to push the point when a throat clears behind me.

‘Excuse me, do you offer table service here?’

I turn, annoyed at the interruption—and come face to face with Malachi.