Dark Heart Rising (13 page)

Finally, I turned to look in the mirror, shutting my eyes for a few minutes before opening them again.

I opened my mouth and almost gasped at my reflection. I was totally unrecognisable. The pitch black of my hair made my grey eyes look huge and vivid. The sharp bobbed style gave me cheekbones. My eyes travelled down to the dress. And the lusciousness of the crimson sent a subtle glow across my skin tone. I looked like a woman. Not a girl. I hadn’t noticed my body changing that much, but it must have done. Because I went in and out in a way I had never done before.

‘Jane!’ Vanya trilled from outside. ‘Everything all right in there?’

I couldn’t speak for a moment, too busy taking in the apparition in the mirror.

‘Jane?’ She rapped on the door. ‘Please may I come in?’

‘Yes,’ I croaked, instinctively wanting to hide myself.

The door opened and she swept back in, stopping, her eyes sweeping like searchlights up and down my body.

‘Well, well, well.’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘I knew it.’

‘I’m really not sure about this,’ I said quickly. ‘It’s just too … ostentatious.’

‘Dear God in heaven,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘You really are the most pathetic, wheedling child …’

‘What?’ I said, outraged.

‘You don’t get it, do you darling.’ She tapped her head. ‘It’s simply not sinking into that provincial, self-deprecating little head of yours.’

I set my mouth, furious, but on some level knowing she had a point.

‘Listen,’ she said wearily, ‘you are never going to win this little game if you put yourself on the back foot all the time. If you refuse to dazzle.’

‘Why should I need to dazzle?’ I glared at her.

‘Oh, sweetheart, you are so naïve.’ She reached out and deftly adjusted the wig.

‘This wig is itchy,’ I said sulkily.

‘We have to suffer to be beautiful,’ she said. ‘Get over it.’

I smirked, knowing she was too busy fiddling with my hair to see.

When she’d finished I turned back to the mirror myself.

‘I guess, I do look…’

‘Stunning,’ came a voice from the open doorway. ‘Absolutely stunning.’

Vanya and I turned to see Soren leaning up against the wall.

‘Isn’t she?’ Vanya was almost maternal. Though a million miles away from the mother I knew.

Soren came forward.

‘The time will come for us to shine, Jane,’ he said, looking straight into my eyes. ‘Don’t you think?’

Colour was seeping up my body, heading for my cheeks. Something about the way Soren was looking at me, made me uncomfortable … coy even. Dragging my eyes away from his, I looked back down at my shape and stroked the pink velvet with my fingertips.

When I finally looked back, I met his gaze with new confidence.

T
he palace library was seldom visited these days. Gabriel had spent hours in there, much to the exasperation of his wife and Celeste. But Raphael had always loved seeing his father, seated at the large centre table, books open in front of him and his head bent in intent study. For a long time now the place had been chilly, underused and lonely. As Raphael turned the handle, a musty smell wafted out.

He pushed the door wide open, standing still for a moment, gazing at the hundreds of books shelved in glass cupboards.

Taking a deep breath, Raphael forced the memory of his father out of his head and advanced towards the glass cabinet beyond the centre table. He knew that somewhere in there he would find what he was looking for.

The cabinet rested on a large chest, housing several drawers. Raphael drew one out and found the key. Unlocking the cabinet, he ran his finger along the books on the bottom shelf. Alphabetically ordered, with ageing leather spines. He crouched until his eyes settled on one near the end of the row.

Werewolf Dynasties: Nissilum 800 to 880.

As he slid the book out, Raphael was aware of how delicate it was, how fragile the case; the leaves within the book crackled. Holding it carefully in his hands, he seated himself at the table, and began slowly turning the pages. The book listed the family trees of all the first werewolf breeds that came to Nissilum. These breeds still existed, though they tended to stay in their original quarters: North, South, East and West. A small number of wolves had revolted, disobeyed the laws and been banished, or escaped. As a member of the Celestial family, Raphael was privy to more information than most on the exact individuals who had committed such acts of treachery, or insubordination. He had also listened at doorways as a child, heard his elders discussing cases; and on occasion had been allowed to sit in on state meetings where such matters had been analysed and punishments had been ordered. Some cases had stuck in his head. Others had been of little interest.

Raphael recalled the day that one young wolf was ruled as an outcast and a warrant issued for his imprisonment. He had been particularly fascinated because the werewolf had been around his age. Born on the same day, the same month, the ame year. Yet his crimes, his acts had been devastating to his family.
Pure evil
, had been the description in court. The cub had attacked his mother, his father, brother and one of his sisters. Another sister had curiously escaped attack … was found crouched in a wood in the Southern quarter, shivering and traumatised. She had been taken in, adopted by another family and everything about her previous life had been changed – even her name, it was said. Though after her errant brother had been destroyed, all of Nissilum had respectfully ceased their gossip, in the hope that she would live as normal a life as possible.

Raphael turned the pages, trying not to tear each one as he did so. Eventually he reached the page he was looking for and stopped. There, in type so tiny he had to squint to see it, was the report he wanted.

From this day forward the eldest cub of the Cage Wolves family will no longer be granted citizenship in Nissilum. With immediate effect he is to be transported to the Celestial Palace and imprisoned until such a method of punishment has been decided by the high court.

That punishment was banishment from Nissilum.

Raphael paused, staring hard at the cub’s name: Saul. It was very possible the cub boy had changed his name. After all, Raphael himself had lived in the guise of the mortal, Evan Forrest. Remembering this, Raphael caught his breath. The cub could be a shape-shifter. He didn’t know how, since only the Royal family – the angels – of Nissilum where endowed with all supernatural powers. If this boy were truly a shape-shifter, then somebody within the Celestial family must have granted him this gift.

Raphael continued reading.

The cub’s only living relative, his sister, Cina, will be rehabilitated with a neighbouring wolf family, whose name shall remain anonymous, but who will endeavour to rid the girl cub of all memory of her brother’s evil massacre
.

Raphael swallowed. If Saul was who he thought he was, then he was a grave danger to all here on Nissilum. And if it was he, then what was his true business here? The boy sat back in his chair, his mind racing. Could it be that he planned to kill again? Raphael had needed a second look at the stranger who had appeared out of nowhere with Jane Jonas. He had felt some kind of threatening force coming from him. At least he had felt something he couldn’t explain. But Raphael wasn’t officially privy to the Cage Wolves massacre case. He needed to keep an eye on the boy if he could. He couldn’t just order him gone without proof.

Raphael carefully closed the book, stood and placed it back on the bottom shelf. As he closed the glass cabinet his own reflection stared back at him, muted and dark in the dim light of the library. His eyes, dark now, glowered piercingly, and though he knew he was just looking at himself, Raphael felt a ripple of fear at the sight.

‘Dear, your great-father is not well,’ Celeste said later that evening. She rubbed at the stem of her glass, a frown lining her normally smooth pale skin. ‘It is most unusual. He appears to have some kind of fever …’

‘A fever?’ said Raphael in surprise. ‘But—’

‘Yes, I know.’ Celeste shook her head. ‘We do not get ill. We do not get feverish. Except … this appears to be some kind of delirium. He is muttering and writhing in his bed.’

‘Well, what is he saying?’ Raphael covered his plate with a napkin, his face set in concern.

‘I can’t make sense of most it. But he does seem to have a foreboding of some catastrophe … He keeps repeating the same words over and over again. “Protect your people.”’ She glanced bewildered at Raphael. ‘I have no idea what he means by this.’

Raphael kept his expression calm. ‘Cadmium has always been anxious,’ he told her gently. ‘I am sure it means nothing.’ Seeing that the worry didn’t disappear from Celeste’s face, he reached out to take her hand. ‘But I will ensure that the guards are extra vigilant … Perhaps we should call a meeting of the dynasties … If there is unrest, surely it will be spoken of then?’

At last she gave him a weak smile. ‘Perhaps he is just overly cautious. His responsibilities have always weighed so heavily on him. He knows that you will become head of state one day … I think he finds it very difficult to let go.’

Raphael nodded silently, taking his hand away from his great-mother’s.

‘Do you recall the boy cub who was banished from Nissilum?’ he said haltingly. ‘The one who committed such terrible acts to his family?’

Celeste looked sharply at him. ‘Saul,’ she said quickly, a tiny visible shudder running through her. ‘What a terrible tragedy.’

‘Where did he go?’ Raphael looked intently at her. ‘Where was he banished to?’

Celeste looked down at her hands, then clasped them together.

‘Nobody knows,’ she said, after some hesitation. ‘He was safely locked in the cellars beneath the palace, there was no possible way he could have escaped. But when the guards went down to check on him one morning, he was gone. Two of the bars on the tiny window down there had been pushed apart with what must have been considerable force and the cellar was empty.’ She sighed heavily. ‘And he was nowhere to be found on the whole of Nissilum. Everyone searched for him. Not a stone was left unturned. He just vanished.’

Raphael’s eyes were wide. ‘A wolf could not have done that,’ he said quietly. ‘There is no possible way …’

Celeste shuddered again, this time volubly. ‘It is the one thing that has haunted your great-father all of his life. The notion that this beast is out there, roaming. A mutant of some kind. Part wolf … part …’ she trailed off, unable to finish her sentence.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Raphael, half meaning it, for his great-mother looked so stricken at this buried memory. ‘I didn’t mean to dredge up something so …’

‘Evil,’ she answered with a voice like stone. ‘Pure evil.’

After Celeste had retired to bed, Raphael took a drink into the large sitting room on the second floor. A fire burned brightly in the grate, and as he sat cradling his glass in his hands, he stared mesmerised at the flames and the crackling and spitting of the wood beneath them. For the first time since he’d been a child, he felt something other than rebellion pulsing through his veins. He felt fearful and anxious.

The killer had returned, he was sure of it. Raphael just had to make sure he could prove his identity. There must be some mark, some clue that made this boy cub – or whatever he had turned himself into – unique. Raphael wanted to find him, and a part of him wanted to bring him to justice once and for all. But he would be lying to himself if he didn’t feel this enemy could be useful in some way.

Outside it was pitch black, the moon, not quite full in the sky. The whole of Nissilum seemed a more sinister place tonight. Somewhere out there was a threat to its entire civilisation.

‘W
ho are your family?’ I asked Soren, who was using two heavy pans as small weights. I had been trying for the last half hour not to look at his bare torso. It was surprisingly muscley. Sinewy, strong. Soren let out a small gasp as he brought the weights down to the floor. He breathed out heavily, a light film of sweat on his forehead, his dark hair pushed back off his face, but for one inky cowlick. He flashed me a smile.

‘Everywhere … and nowhere,’ he replied annoyingly at last. ‘I am a chameleon.’

‘Soren.’ I shut my eyes in brief annoyance. ‘That’s not an answer. There’s enigmatic and there’s downright weird.’

‘How about enigmatically weird?’ he said, picking up his T-shirt and pulling it over his head.

‘Why are you so determined to keep your past a secret?’

I got up from Vanya’s kitchen table and walked over to the sink, filling a cup of water. When I turned back, Soren was staring at me. With his tousled hair and white T-shirt clinging to his chest, I had to stop myself from staring back. Instead I held out the cup of water.

‘Drink,’ I told him.

‘I am beginning to realise that you are really quite bossy, Miss Jane,’ he said, then took a long gulp.

‘I’m serious. Why can’t you tell me?’

I watched as he finished his water, placing the empty cup on the table. He finally engaged with me, a more thoughtful look on his face.