The Nephilim (26 page)

“Well,” Maricia said matter of factly as she absorbed the news.  “I guess we need to hurry.”

Chapter Fourteen

When Katz awoke it was to pain. A lot of pain. Her entire face ached as if she'd been punched repeatedly. Which was pretty much what had happened. She remembered enough of what had happened to know that. And to know that Master Atkins had been shot and maybe killed. And that Mark had possibly been shot as well. She remembered the light on the darkened stairwell and his scream. He might be dead! Her friend! And it wasn't as if she had a lot of friends any more.

For a long while Katz just lay there taking it all in. Trying to remember as much as she could of the night. To think if she'd seen or heard Mark again after that. Or if any others were dead. She knew they might be. There had been gun shots and fire everywhere. But much of the night was no more than a blur. And in the end there was one thing she didn't know that trumped everything else. She didn't know where she was.

Looking around she knew she was in some sort of room. But it wasn't any room she'd ever been in before. It wasn't like any room she'd ever been in either. Despite the fact that she was lying on a makeshift army cot, it wasn't a bedroom. At a guess it was a storeroom of some sort. There was a single window in it, but it was narrow and high and someone had covered it with iron bars. She wouldn’t be able to escape through it. The walls were cheap, heavy plywood, the sort of thing you saw in old factories and shops. And there were rusting metal shelves lining them. Lots and lots of shelves.

Everything was old and dusty. It smelled of decay. Worst of all she knew it was a prison. The solid wood door leading from it out into the rest of the building told her that. It had no door handle. Not on her side anyway. And the only reason for that was to prevent whoever was inside getting out.

Normally that wouldn’t be a problem for her. The handle on the other side of the door would turn and the door unlock if she touched it. Her gift allowed for that. But for once her gift wouldn't help her. Because her gift also allowed her to know the ways in which a doorway was shut, and this one had been blocked by virtue of someone placing a heavy object against it. In short, she could unlock the door and turn the handle but she couldn't push it open. The door had been specifically sealed shut to hold her in. Only someone who knew what she could do would know to do that.

And that someone had planned for her to be here for a long time. She understood that when she saw that the shelves were loaded down with plastic wrapped muesli bars. The sort of food that would keep and which could be eaten cold. Then there were the two huge water containers and plastic cups. And a small chemical toilet beside the cot. At a guess there was enough food here for her to last a month or more.

The blood drained from her face when she realised that. A month in this place, and there was no guarantee that when it was up she would be freed. They could just restock everything and leave her here for another month. Maybe the rest of her life.

It was a nightmare.

Katz tried to take stock of the situation. But when she did she didn't want to. It was too terrible. She had been abducted and then imprisoned. Her teacher had been shot and possibly killed. Some of her friends might also be dead. Mark might be dead. And though she didn't want to think it, she knew who had done it. She could hear him somewhere outside, ordering people around. Her grandfather.

His voice was distinctive, even when it was muffled by walls. And for the moment it was loud. He was shouting, angry at someone for something. She didn't know who or why. But he was yelling at people and that was never a good thing.

He didn't sound like her grandfather just then though. Normally he was quiet and smiled a lot. He tousled her hair and told her how much he cared. And how sorry he was for all that had gone wrong in her life. He had a soft voice and an easy going way. This though, this was a mad man. He was screaming and yelling at someone. Calling them names. Threatening them too if she was any judge of what he was yelling. She couldn't make out much about what he was saying but there was a lot of swearing and she was certain she heard the word “kill” coming from him a lot.

He really was the bad guy.

It was hard to wrap her head around that. To match the sound of him screaming and threatening people – the fact that he had sent armed men to her school – with the kindly grandfather she had known for the last six months. They just couldn't be the same man. But she knew they were. And  she knew that Garrick had been right. Her grandfather was just a big, fat liar. And she had fallen for his lies.

In time she realised that that couldn't be her concern just then. Years of life in and out of foster homes and the orphanage told her that. Life for her had always been about leaving. Escaping. This was no different. Her focus had to be on getting out of here. Getting away from the insanity. If her grandfather had done what she thought he had. If he had sent armed men to a school to shoot people – then she knew she wanted no part of whatever else he had planned. That was not the harmless robbery he'd spoken of. That was not the “no one getting hurt” that he'd promised. It was criminal and vicious. It was psycho. It was worse than that. And if he was prepared to kill people she had to wonder what else he was prepared to do. What else he had done.

Garrick's words were with her then. That he was a cold, vicious thug. That he had done terrible things. And that he betrayed those he worked with. Now she knew that all of that had been true. Anyone who would send armed men into a school to kidnap her could not be good. He could not be the man her grandfather had claimed he was.

But was it worse than that? Garrick had also said that Armando had had her mother committed. That he had set her up for the assault. Her mother had said the same thing in her moments of clarity. She'd said she'd never stabbed the woman. She'd never had a knife. It was all a lie.

Of course no one had believed her. Even Katz hadn't believed her. Why would she when she knew her mother lived in a fantasy world a lot of the time? When she'd had similar problems all her life? But this time Katz knew she'd been telling the actual truth.

All of which left her with the obvious question. If Armando was prepared to send his own daughter to an institution, was she really his daughter? Was he really her grandfather? And though it seemed too horrible to believe, in her heart Katarinka knew that he wasn't. The shaved gorilla had been right about that too. Armando had lied to her. He was a cold, vicious criminal who wanted nothing more than money. He didn't give a fuck about her. He only needed her to open the doors to get his gold.

And what would happen when she'd done that? If Garrick was right then she knew it would be nothing good, and possibly even fatal. If he was a murderer then why would he let her live? Suddenly her heart started racing again. She had to get out of here!

But how? Armando knew what she could do, and he'd prepared for it.

Katz got up from the cot and went to the window and looked out.  It seemed she was at least three stories up and there wasn’t any foot traffic so calling out for help wouldn’t get her anywhere. In fact it looked like an industrial wasteland outside. Even if she could somehow take down the heavy black iron bars and squeeze through the window it was a long way down. Meanwhile, the door was locked and blocked and the walls looked solid. They didn't budge when she pushed against them. And the floor was made of solid wooden boards. She could lift a couple, if she had some tools. But of course she had no tools other than her finger nails. And of course there was another problem. She knew it as she heard the sound of her jailer out there yelling at people. Even if she could somehow get out of the room she'd still have to get past her guards. Past Armando.

She was trapped.

That didn't leave her with a lot of ways out of her prison. In fact there were only two, and she didn't like either of them. The first was Cassie. But even as she thought of her she knew the angel wouldn't help her. If she even was an angel. From what she understood of the Choir from her lessons she realised it would violate the Choir's precious rules. From memory, one of the ones it would violate was that those of the Choir could not reveal themselves to normal people. And if the men out there knew she was locked inside this room, which they did, her sudden inexplicable disappearance from the room would expose them to the impossible. Which meant that she had to get herself out of here.

The other rule was of course that they couldn't interfere with free will. She and the other angels could whisper day and night into the ears of her captors. They could monkey around with chance and fate so that those who made terrible choices could never say that they had not known it was wrong. But they could not lift a finger to prevent them doing evil. Not against anyone. Not against other normals and not against nephilim. The angel would not help her.

Still she had to try, and so softly Katarinka called for her. She called for her for some time – but it made no difference. And in time she realised she had her answer. The Choir would not help her. Either they really weren't angels just as she had always thought despite what the others had said, or they just didn't care. Maybe it was both. And that ironically was enough to tell her that they weren't angels at all. If they were they would have cared. They would have done something. It was then that she understood so clearly why the others disliked the Choir. They weren't your friends. They weren't family. The only family nephilim had were one another.

That left her with the second option. Talking to her grandfather, who she was now certain wasn't who he claimed to be. He wasn't her grandfather. He wasn't family at all. Katz didn't like the idea – it scared her. It also seemed like a waste of time given he had apparently designed this prison just to hold her. But it was all she had.

“Hello.”

Katarinka called out nervously. Then when nothing happened she called out again. Then when that still got no answer she started beating on the door and yelling at the top of her lungs. That at least got a response. The arguing outside stopped and she heard foot falls coming up the stairs, coming closer.

“Katy dear. You're awake.”

Armando's voice suddenly came clearly through the door and she knew he was just outside. Even if she hadn't recognised his voice there was the fact that he called her Katy. No one called her that except him. She was Katz to her friends or Katarinka to the adults. She also knew he wasn't going to let her out. Not when he sounded so smug and condescending. In fact he sounded exactly like a villain from a movie, something that sent shivers running down her spine. How could this be the same man who had told her he loved her? And the truth was that he had been lying. She knew that. This was the real Armando, and he had no love for her at all. He would never free her. But she had to try.

“Let me out of here!” She thumped on the door for emphasis, but only got a chuckle from him. It seemed that the time for his pretending to care about her had passed.

“I hardly think so. You attacked my men as they tried to free you, and that fairly much tells me where your loyalties lie. Besides which, you've spent weeks among the freaks, learning all about me no doubt. I don't think I can trust you any more.”

“But grandfather –.”

“Uh uh!” He snapped at her. “Don't try that bullshit with me girl. I can hear the lie in your voice. I spent years interrogating people. And I know that pesky headmistress and that miserable hunter will have told you the truth. You're no family of mine. You know it and I know that you know. So don't think you can play on it.”

“We've entered a new phase in our relationship – honesty. No more lies about your dear, sweet mother and freeing her. No more pretending to be family. From now on I'll tell you what to do and you'll do it or I'll have you shot. After all, if you won't open the doors for me you're of no use to me. And until that day comes when you're able to be of some use you'll stay here. Safely under lock and key. Or more correctly behind iron bars and blocked in.”

He laughed a little as if what he'd said was funny in some way. It wasn't. It was frightening. But more than that it made her mad. And it made her wonder how she could ever have believed a single word that had come out of his mouth. He was simply full of shit and that made her angry.

“Shoot me. You'll get nothing.” It was bluster but it was all she had.

“Oh my dear I will. If you don't do your job I will cheerfully put a bullet in that head of yours. And we both know you don't have the courage to lay down your life. Don't even try to pretend you do. You're no different to all those other pathetic runts in the orphanage. Trying to act tough but really just frightened little children desperately looking for a mummy or a daddy. It's why you were so easy to toy with. But I'll make this easy on you. Before I blow your head off I'll put one through your mother's head. You will finally be all alone in the world and this time you'll know for certain that it's your fault. I have someone in the institution just waiting for my call.”