Shimmer: The Rephaim Book 3 (5 page)

‘Do you feel anything…familiar?’

He stares out at the mountains hemming in the ancient buildings. ‘No. Why?’

‘It’s just—I thought maybe it might be like everything else. You know, that something about this might feel…
right
.’

He looks at me, a slight crease in his forehead. ‘Nothing about this place feels right.’

I think about him staring down Nathaniel and then being group-hugged by the Outcasts.

‘What?’ he says.

‘Nothing.’ I sink onto the bed. I pluck at my shirt, smell wood smoke, grass, dirt. Tears threaten. Again.

Jude sits beside me.

‘What happened when you were in that room in Iowa?’

I close my eyes and see the plaster torn back to reveal giant wings etched into a solid iron wall. My stomach knots, remembering Rafa hurling himself against the unrelenting metal, unable to shift beyond those walls until the Outcasts broke us out.

‘I was trying to protect Maggie. I wanted her to be safe when Rafa and I came searching for you. Jason thought those women could help.’

I tell Jude what we found in that room: photos of the Rephaim. Photos
stolen
from the Rephaim. Floor plans and drawings of the Sanctuary. And a journal with sepia-tone photos of men burning a body in a cornfield.

‘Rafa thinks someone here at the Sanctuary has been feeding information to them for years—that’s how they know so much about the Rephaim.’

‘He have any idea who would do that?’

‘No, he didn’t know.’

Jude thinks for a moment. ‘Those Iowa women know how that room works.’

I nod.

‘And Nathaniel has one of them here?’

‘Yeah, Virginia—Sophie’s grandmother.’ I think about Sophie lying dead in the cornfield beside her mother, torn apart by demons. I feel sick. ‘Debra—Virginia’s other daughter—she’s safe. Mya took her to a cop the Outcasts know in LA.’

Jude drums his fingers on his knees. ‘We need to find out how the family created those wards and if there’s any way we can get around them.’

‘I know.’

‘What do you know?’

Mya is in the doorway, Ez and Zak behind her. She’s looking at Jude, not me.

‘That we need to talk to Virginia,’ I say. ‘Or even better, Debra, given she designed that room.’

Mya comes inside, drops a duffel bag at Jude’s feet. ‘I got Jones to grab some clothes for you.’

‘What about Gaby?’

‘Her stuff’s already here.’

I give her a level look. ‘And how am I going to get it?’

She shrugs. ‘I guess you’re about to find out if you have any friends left here.’

Nice. Apparently we’re only on the same side when she needs back-up in an argument with Nathaniel. Ez and Zak stay by the door. Ez catches my eye, gives me an apologetic smile.

‘We need to talk to Debra,’ I say again to Mya.

‘We will.’

‘When?’

‘When we need to.’

‘We need to now.’

‘I thought you wanted us here. Make your mind up, Gabe.’

I kick the duffel bag at her. ‘What the fuck is your problem?’

Mya leans over me, her neck reddening. ‘What do you want to do, Gabe—go to LA and interrogate Debra or stay here and beg Nathaniel for help?’

I’m on my feet in an instant, in her face. ‘I want Rafa and Taya back, that’s what I want.’

‘You don’t think I do too?’ We’re centimetres apart. Close enough that I can smell the peppermint on her breath. Anger surges through me, crackling, familiar. Comforting.

‘Then let’s go in on our own,’ Mya says. ‘Right now.’

‘No.’ Ez comes further inside. ‘Not until we know how that room works. Maybe we need more numbers, maybe we don’t. But we’ll lose the option of a bigger force the second Nathaniel finds out we’ve gone.’

I tear my eyes from Mya to see what Jude’s thinking. He runs a hand through his hair—the same thick dark hair that always looks untidy on me. Everything about him is so familiar and yet…different. Different from the brother of my fake memories: the brother who loved to drink and surf and laugh. I still see that Jude in him, but
this
Jude is more focused. More take-charge.

‘Then let’s talk to Virginia,’ he says and I nod, emphatic. ‘She’s in the Sanctuary somewhere. It’s the obvious move.’

Mya makes an impatient sound and turns away.

‘I agree it’s a better option,’ Ez says. ‘But not yet.’

‘Why not?’ I ask.

‘Because if we get caught, it’s over for us here. We can’t risk it.’ She looks away for a moment, frustrated. When her eyes meet mine again, I see how uneasy she is. ‘I hate this as much as you do but everything is different now. Zarael can
imprison
us.’

Zak shifts his weight in the doorway. ‘Ez is right. It’d be better if we didn’t have to face that farmhouse on our own. We need to give the Five at least half a chance. Who knows: maybe they’ve grown a set.’

Jude presses his lips together and nods, but his eyes flick to me. I give a tiny shake of my head. We can’t just sit around waiting. I rub at the dirt smudged on my forearm. Maybe he and I can find out where Virginia is being held. Someone must know…

Of course.
Daisy
.

I think about the fine line she treads between obedience and defiance. She hasn’t crossed it yet for me, but if
Jude
was asking for help, the response might be different. Brother Stephen said she hangs out in the gym. My skin chills at the thought of the dank training room with its wire cage and blood-stained sawdust. But if it’s where Daisy’s most likely to go, it’s where we need to be. Jude and I have to talk to her away from the Outcasts. Away from Mya.

I walk to the window again, jerk the curtains apart, walk back to Jude. ‘I really need to hit something. Right now.’ I give him a meaningful look.

He frowns, trying to read my mood. ‘What did you have in mind?’

‘Nobody said the gym was off limits. We could work the bags down there for a while. You and me.’

‘Okay…sure.’

I let my breath out.

‘That’s not an entirely stupid idea.’

Crap.

Mya raises her eyebrows at me. ‘What? You think you’re the only one who needs to blow off steam?’ She walks between Jude and me on her way to the door, eyeballing me as she passes. ‘I’ll get the others. We could
all
do with a session downstairs.’

NOTHING SAYS ‘I CARE’ LIKE A PUNCH IN THE FACE

We need to get to the gym before Mya and the others. There’s no chance Daisy will help us—no way she’ll break Nathaniel’s trust—if Mya knows about it.

I turn to Ez. ‘Can we go now—meet them down there?’

Her brow creases, but she nods. ‘Sure.’

‘Can we shift?’

Ez hesitates for just a second and then reaches for Jude and me. We arrive next to one of two boxing rings. I twist around before I’ve settled properly back into my skin. Search the shadows for movement, strain to hear sounds of activity. I sweep the room twice, wonder if the shift is messing with my senses. I try to steady my breathing but the result is the same.

The gym is empty.

Banks of fluorescent lights hang from the ceiling; weights and barbells are stacked against the walls; exercise mats cover the concrete floor. But no Daisy. All the strength drains out of me. Where the hell is she?

I rub my bare arms. There’s a hint of warmth in the basement, but it’s struggling to take the chill out of the air. The place smells of leather, sawdust and sweat.

Ez touches my elbow. ‘Are you really okay being down here?’ The question is cautious, careful. It’s then the full reality of where I am hits me. My scalp prickles. I turn back to the middle of the room. Jude is already heading for the cage and I can’t help it: I’m drawn too. There’s no trace of blood in the sawdust—mine or the hellion’s—but the bile rises in my throat. What did they do with its body? With its head? My heart stumbles. What if Zarael puts a hellion in that room with Rafa and Taya? Or two hellions? Ten? The sawdust comes at me and I grip the chain wire to steady myself.

‘Bloody hell, Gaby,’ Jude says. ‘They locked you in there with one of those hell-beasts?’ His fingers find mine on the wire. ‘Those arseholes…’

I drag myself back to the moment.
This
moment. ‘We need to talk to Daisy,’ I whisper. ‘She’ll know where Virginia is.’

‘That’s why you wanted to come down here?’ He glances back at Ez and Zak, frowns.

‘It has to be just us. Nobody else ends up in the shit if we get caught. Jude.’ I wait until he’s looking at me again. ‘We’ll tell them if we get to Virginia. But first we need to talk to Daisy. Alone.’

There are more voices behind us: the rest of the Outcasts have arrived. I squeeze Jude’s fingers, hold his gaze until I see he’s with me. And then I put my back to the chain wire and face the Outcasts. Mya, Jones, Seth. Others I recognise from the LA job. I get longer eye contact from Jude’s old crew now, a few tentative nods. An improvement on the open hostility we started with two days ago in Dubai. If they resent being here, they keep it to themselves. Right now, Jude is all they care about. Within seconds he’s surrounded. More hugging and hand-shaking.

I push away from the cage and head for Ez. She’s helping Zak rig up a punching bag. The panic is still there, pulling at me, but if I keep moving I can almost ignore it. I need to give Daisy time to show.

‘Gabe.’ Jones breaks from the group.

‘Oh. Hey.’

‘How’s the leg?’ He gestures to my thigh. My hand goes to the stab wound, fully healed thanks to half a dozen shifts. The love fest for Jude continues behind us, Mya in the middle of it.

‘It still itches a bit.’ For a few seconds I’m back pinned against the fence, feel the sickening sensation of pushing the knife through sinew and muscle into Bel’s chest, and that brief moment of triumph before the demon staggered away, pulled it out and threw it at me.

Jones shoves his hands in his pockets. Looks away, back again. ‘Was Rafa…Did he…?’ He can’t finish.

‘He didn’t see it coming. Neither of them did.’ I can’t stop the tremor in my voice and it’s like I’ve punched Jones. He closes his eyes, fights the image.

‘I didn’t think I could hate Zarael any more than I already do.’

‘Has anything like this happened before?’

‘Gatekeepers killed Cass back in 1912, took his head. But that was in battle—’

‘You’ve lost Rephaim?’ For a second I can’t feel my legs.

‘We can die, Gabe, just like they can. But they’ve never been able to hold us prisoner. And we’ve never been at their mercy, not like this.’

‘Can we beat them?’

‘I don’t know.’ He slides off his beanie and tucks it in his back pocket. Long dark hair sits flat against his head. ‘But we’ve got half a chance now you and Jude are back.’

I hope he’s right. I hope Jude and I can be who the Rephaim need us to be. Who Rafa needs us to be.

‘How about we burn some energy.’ Ez says it loud enough to get everyone’s attention. ‘Gabe, Jude, over here.’ She and Zak have the bag up and ready.

The Outcasts linger near Jude for a few seconds more and then fan out on the mats. Jude falls into step with me as we cross the room. He glances at Jones and Seth, squaring up against each other. ‘I hate having all these people know more about us than we do.’ He stretches an arm across his chest as we walk. ‘We still need to sort that mess out. The laptop you found might help.’

‘It’s in Pan Beach.’

‘I know.’

We reach Ez and Zak before I can find out where the conversation was headed. Zak pushes the bag away from him and the chain squeaks. When it swings back, he traps it against his broad chest. ‘Gabe, you first.’

I glance at the tarnished bronze door on the far side of the gym. Still closed. I take the fingerless gloves Ez offers.

Jude strips off his jumper and continues to limber up. I stretch out my shoulders, wait for Zak to get in position behind the bag and hold it steady. His head pokes around the side. ‘Start with jabs.’

The rest of the room has gone still; everyone’s stopped to spectate. Jude’s watching too. I wasn’t lying: I do need to hit something. I’m fizzing with nervous energy but my first punch is light, self-conscious. The second not much better.

‘That the best you’ve got?’ Zak says.

I grit my teeth and throw a hook as hard as I can. It jars my shoulder and Zak takes a step back to absorb it. ‘Better. Give me combinations.’

It’s like sparring: after two more punches the moves come naturally, instinctively. The intensity builds as I mix it up: jabs, hooks, power punches, leading first with my left and then my right. Feet always moving.

‘Keep your guard up.’

I bring my other fist up protectively to cover my face. Everything in the room fades except Zak and the bag. I slam my fist into the leather. Again. And again. My breath shortens. My knuckles sting.

‘Roundhouse.’

I lash out without thinking. My shin makes a satisfying
thwack
halfway up the leather bag.

‘Other leg,’ Zak says, and braces as I connect again.

I pummel the bag with punches, kicks, elbow strikes. Sweat runs down my neck. A dull ache spreads across my shoulders. I need to go harder. I need to punish the bag, drive out that image of Rafa and that sword. I need—

‘That’ll do,’ Zak says.

Already? I smack the bag with a final combination of punches and step back, panting, let my hands drop. My pulse thuds in my temples. It’s not enough. Nowhere near enough.

‘You’re not that rusty,’ Jones says, exchanging places with Zak. He positions himself behind the bag, gestures for Jude to step up. ‘Just watch the face.’

Jude rolls his neck from side to side, glances at me as I stand with my hands on my knees, catching my breath. Hesitates for a heartbeat. And then he goes to work. Just like with his sword skills, his technique is controlled and accurate, his strikes forceful enough to occasionally knock the wind from Jones. He’s kept fit—obviously—but it’s more than that. He’s hitting the leather as if he’s been doing it every day for years. I’ve known about this other life for over a week: Jude’s known for a few hours. Why does all this come to him so much more quickly than it did for me? It took an attack from a hell-beast for my body to remember how to fight. And even then it was patchy. I’m getting better, but only in fits and starts.