Shimmer: The Rephaim Book 3 (23 page)

A chair scrapes over the lino. Malachi is on his feet. ‘Tell me what to do.’

‘Malachi, there are others with your blood type.’

Malachi places Taya’s hand at her side. ‘Rafa kept Taya alive in that house. Tell me what to do.’

BLOOD IS THICKER THAN ANGER

Malachi is propped on pillows on a gurney next to Rafa, tubes and bags hooked up between them. Rafa is out again, each breath short and laboured.

We stand there, impotent, watching dark red blood flow from Malachi into Rafa, while Brother Ferro stitches Rafa’s leg. The infirmary is quiet except for the muted voices from the ward next door: Mick and Rusty reliving the farmhouse attack.

‘All we can do is wait,’ Daniel says.

I’m still keeping pressure on Rafa’s bandages, my fingers sticky with his blood. His face is puffy and discoloured. Lips cracked and bleeding. Dark blond hair damp with sweat. God, he’s a mess.

A hand touches my elbow, tentative. ‘Gabriella.’ It’s Brother Ferro. ‘I don’t know how long this will take. You should clean yourselves up and get some rest. I promise I will get word to you if there’s any change. Brother Benigno can take over with these wounds.’

I don’t want to leave Rafa. I can’t. I—

‘Come on.’ Jude is beside me. He puts an arm around my shoulders. I can’t look away from Rafa, even while Jude wipes my hands clean. And then he’s steering me towards the door and out into the hallway. I put one foot in front of the other, numb.

When we’re outside in the cloister, he grabs me in a rough hug. ‘Fuck, Gaby, I thought I’d lost you again.’ I cling to his shirt. I don’t remember when I started shaking.

Jude walks me to the bench and I slump beside him. Light drizzle wets the grass in the piazza. The sandstone bleeds dark brown and the late afternoon sky hangs low; everything is close, quiet. I close my eyes and listen to the sound of rain.

‘Are you hurt?’

I open my eyes to find Daniel standing in front of us. Ez and Zak are behind him. Ez still has my sword.

‘No.’ It’s not really true: I’m sore and bruised from my fight with Bel, but what is that compared with Rafa and Taya’s pain?

Daniel studies me, his jaw working. ‘That was the most reckless thing you have ever done and the fact everyone came out alive owes more to good luck than—’

‘She killed Bel.’

Daniel’s head snaps in Zak’s direction. ‘Bel is dead?’

‘That’s what Rafa said.’

I bring my knees to my chest, lean against the wall. Exhaustion creeps up on me like warm water in a bath. Daniel is about to say something else when another thought strikes him. ‘Tell me you didn’t use the rocket launcher.’ I don’t answer and he rests his hands on his hips, focuses on the pavement. His shirtsleeves are rolled up; tendons stand out on his forearms. He’s strung tight, even with Taya and Rafa back.

‘Would you rather we’d left that room intact?’ I ask. ‘Do you want Zarael to come after us again?’

‘No, Gaby, I don’t. What I’d rather—’ He cuts himself off.

‘What?’ Anger flares. Faithful, reliable.

He gives me an impatient look. ‘I’d rather you weren’t still behaving so much like your brother.’

Jude gives a rough laugh. ‘One day, pal, you and I are going to have a long chat about this bug you’ve got up your arse about me. And about some of your decision-making regarding my sister.’

Daniel’s shoulders tighten. He’s standing with his back to the piazza, framed by falling rain.

‘The room’s gone,’ I say. ‘Deal with it.’ I think about those angel wings on the wall, Mya smearing blood over them. I touch my shirt, stained with Rafa’s blood. ‘Did Nathaniel tell you he’s seen the winged symbol before?’

‘He told you that?’ I know Daniel well enough to see this is news to him: the fact Nathaniel shared something with us that he hasn’t told the Five. ‘He said the symbol was used to confine Semyaza and the Two Hundred before they were sent to hell.’

Daniel watches me for a long moment, not blinking. Not seeing. Then he walks a few paces, shifts his attention somewhere towards the other side of the piazza. None of us speaks.

‘And the hits keep coming,’ Ez says eventually. ‘What does any of that mean?’

‘I don’t know.’ Zak holds out his hand for the swords she’s carrying. ‘I’m going to clean these. Do you want to check on Dani while I do that?’

I want to tell them to stay—they need to know about Mya—but I can’t tell them in front of Daniel. They walk off in opposite directions.

Daniel turns back to me. ‘Can I see the photo again?’ I hand him my phone and he enlarges the image.

‘He hasn’t said anything to you about any of this, has he?’ Jude says. ‘I guess he doesn’t want too many people thinking those women might really be getting messages from heaven.’

‘That’s impossible.’

‘Then how is it they have the exact same symbol on their wall as the one used by the Garrison?’

Daniel is still fixated on the screen. ‘This is an angel trap?’

‘No,’ Jude says. ‘Apparently angels can only be trapped using the blood of an archangel.’

‘If you’re so sure an archangel gave them instructions to create that room, why couldn’t they have given blood as well?’ There’s a brittle edge to him now.

‘Nathaniel says they’re forbidden from shedding their blood on Earth.’

‘Why would you believe him if you doubt everything else he says?’

‘Because by telling us, he’s admitting he broke the no-angel-bloodshed rule when he created the wards here. Why lie if all it does is put himself in the shit?’ Usually it’s the opposite for Nathaniel: he lies to keep himself out of it.

Daniel’s nostrils give a telltale flare. ‘Nathaniel explained the role of the blood in the wards to us this morning. That’s not a secret.’

‘
Us
being the Five, not the rest of the Rephaim, even though he had every chance to do that at the chapterhouse.’

‘It’s about free will—’

‘It’s about controlling information,’ Jude snaps.

Daniel’s chest expands as he takes a slow, steadying breath. Straightens his shoulders. ‘I trust Nathaniel will tell us what we need to know when we need to know it.’

‘Mate, there’s a point when loyalty becomes naivety. I think you just crossed it.’

‘It’s uncanny’—Daniel’s lips barely move—‘how easily you’ve slipped back into your old skin. It won’t be long now and you’ll be shouting down the chapterhouse, turning more Rephaim against Nathaniel.’

‘Hey, Daniel.’ It’s Micah. His hair is damp from the rain. Daniel moves away from us, runs a palm over the front of his shirt. ‘You’re wanted in the library. Nathaniel has reconvened the Council.’

Daniel glances at me, barely meeting my eyes. ‘We’ll finish this later.’ He leaves without looking at Jude.

‘How’s Rafa?’ Micah asks. ‘Jones says he’s not healing?’

I walk to the edge of the cloister and let Jude give him the update. The afternoon is darkening, the clouds lower now. I scan the shadows across the piazza, try not to think about Rafa lying a few metres way, his life—his
immortal
life—leaking away.

Something moves in the other cloister. Someone. Shuffling towards the bronze doors into Nathaniel’s private garden. Why the secrecy? They’re closer now, robes whispering on the pavers. A monk, then. I slip behind a column and peer through the gloom.

It’s Brother Stephen, cradling his arm. Something quivers in my stomach. Why is he so cautious about going into Nathaniel’s compound?

I click my fingers to get Jude’s attention. Hold my finger to my lips.

‘What?’ he mouths.

I point to Nathaniel’s quarters as the door closes behind the monk. I set off after him and Jude and Micah catch me in a couple of steps. ‘What are you doing?’ Micah whispers.

‘Brother Stephen just snuck through those doors.’

‘It can’t be him: he’s in bed with a broken arm. And he wouldn’t be sneaking.’ We reach the lion and the lambs and I put my hand on the bronze latch. ‘Gabe, no.’

‘You don’t have to come, Micah.’

He follows Jude and me inside.

It’s darker in the passage now. Like last time, we pause at the entrance to the garden and stick our heads out for a quick look.

‘What the—’

Micah doesn’t finish his sentence. He’s too busy staring at Brother Stephen in the middle of the garden, hugging Virginia.

OUT IN THE OPEN

Virginia gasps at Micah’s voice. The monk’s eyes fly open. He lets her go and his good arm hangs in the air for a moment, trembling. I think how old he looks, his skin thin and papery, marked with liver spots. He and Virginia stand beside a wrought-iron table under a garden umbrella, in a sea of mint and tomato bushes. His right arm is wrapped tight in a sling across his chest.

Micah heads straight for them. Jude and I stick to the cover of the blueberry bushes. I’m trying to make sense of it: the monk and the matriarch of Iowa, embracing. The drizzle soaks through my hoodie.

‘What are you doing?’ Micah demands.

The monk’s chin quivers. His face is ashen. ‘Micah…’ Brother Stephen can’t hold his gaze. He barely resembles the monk who faced down Zarael in the car park.

‘Leave him be.’ Virginia’s voice is rough, her face pinched and tired. The fight is draining from her. Unravelling her. She’s still dressed in her tailored black suit but all traces of make-up are gone and her grey bob is no longer neat. Wisps of hair float around her face. Something’s happened since we saw her through the window a few hours ago. Her blue eyes flick to Brother Stephen. She’s afraid—for him.

‘Brother, do you
know
her?’ Micah asks.

Silence.

‘Do. You. Know. This woman.’ I’ve never seen Micah this angry. It changes his features, sharpens them.

‘Yes.’

There’s a long moment while we absorb this piece of information. Holy shit…

The monk reaches a gnarled hand for one of the wrought-iron chairs. He drags it out from under the table and Virginia holds his good arm so he can lower himself onto it. I slide into an empty chair opposite them. Jude comes in under the umbrella but Micah stays out in the rain.

‘How long?’ Micah is stunned. Devastated. ‘How long have you been working against us?’

Brother Stephen’s good hand grips the edge of the table, his knuckles bloodless. Scraps of information fall around me like confetti, start to take form.

‘The blueprints, the photos…that was you?’

His lips tremble. ‘Please, no.’ Pale eyes meet mine.

‘Stephen…’ Virginia warns.

‘How do you know Virginia?’

A long pause. ‘She is my niece.’

I blink. That can’t possibly be right.

‘I am a member of the prophetic family.’

Virginia grabs his wrist.

I’m still stuck on the first bit. A monk at the Sanctuary is related to the people who built that iron room. The people who hate us.

‘You mean the family who believes that if the Rephaim find the Fallen, we’ll release them, and Semyaza and the Two Hundred will make war on heaven?’

He nods, weary. ‘Yes, Gabriella, but that is not the entire prophecy.’

Virginia digs her fingers into his papery flesh. ‘You have taken a blood oath.’

‘And I have lived with Nathaniel and the offspring for sixty-five years. As I have told you many times, they are not all as you believe.’

‘Sacrilege.’ She clutches at him. ‘How can you betray us in our darkest hour?’

‘Our time has passed, Virginia. It may be that our role is complete—’

‘It will never be complete while these abominations walk the earth.’

‘Ease up, lady,’ Jude says. He taps his knuckles on the table in front of Brother Stephen to get his attention. ‘Keep going.’

Brother Stephen fumbles inside his robe and pulls out a thin chain with a crucifix. He closes his eyes and holds it against his forehead for a moment, murmurs a prayer only he can hear. And then he opens his eyes, kisses the crucifix and drops it back under his robe. He’s shaking. Cold or fear? The monk draws a shallow breath, keeps his eyes on the twisted iron under his fingers.

‘The first revelation was that the Fallen were trapped in another realm after they escaped from hell and again lay down with human women.’

‘That’s not news: it’s the Sanctuary’s number one theory,’ I say.

‘How?’ Jude asks. ‘Who trapped them?’

‘We do not know. But what our ancestor was shown—what Nathaniel does not know—is what is required to free the Fallen. Or at least, what must occur before the Fallen can be freed.’

‘Stephen, if you do this—’

‘Let him speak.’ Micah glares at her. Virginia sits back in her chair.

‘The Fallen can only be released by their bastard offspring, and only if the Rephaim are united in the cause to do so.’

Virginia sags. ‘God save us all.’

It takes a second for me to understand the significance of his words. ‘But…that means Jude and I couldn’t have released them last year.’ A tiny flare of hope. ‘Maybe it’s not as bad as we think.’

‘Maybe,’ Jude says. ‘That doesn’t mean we didn’t try.’

Oh.

‘Do you know where they are?
How
to release them?’ Micah asks.

The monk looks up, desperate for Micah to understand. ‘Our family was ordained to prevent the Rephaim ever being unified, nothing more.’

I rest my forearms on the table. The wrought-iron swirls dig into my skin. The rain patters around us, kissing petals and leaves and soil. The smell of mint is sharper now.

Only the Rephaim can release the Fallen. And only if they all agree to it.

‘That’s why your family went to Jason and fed him the lie about keeping separate from the others—why those women told him he could avoid being sent to hell with the rest of the Rephaim if he stayed away from Nathaniel.’

‘It was the truth.’

‘Did you build that room for him—in case he changed his mind?’

‘No.’ Virginia straightens her spine. ‘It was not for Jason. We do not know for whom it was intended. We received instruction and we obeyed. It had not been fully tested—’

‘Sophie said it was a prototype. Were you planning on building one big enough to hold all of the Rephaim?’

‘That is not your concern.’

‘Who received that vision?’

Virginia squeezes her eyes shut. ‘My daughter, Louise.’ Her mouth pulls down. Her dead daughter.