Shimmer: The Rephaim Book 3 (17 page)

‘Your room?’

‘Bingo.’ Micah rests his arm on the top of the guitar. ‘You want to take a seat before you fall down?’

I nod, crumple to the carpet. ‘First proper shift on my own.’ I cross my legs, lean back against a drawer sticking out from the tall boy. Smell fabric softener. ‘Holy shit. I did it.’

‘Congratulations.’ He shoves clothes from his bed to the carpet to make room for me but I’m not ready to get off the floor. ‘Were you aiming for my room?’

I shake my head, ride a wave of nausea.

My phone rings and I fumble with it before my fingers work. ‘I’m okay, I’m okay. Did you—’

‘Yes!’ Jude’s buzzing. Of course he could shift properly first time. I hear him grinning through the phone.

‘Where are you?’

‘Where I’m meant to be. Where the hell are you?’

I shoot Micah an embarrassed look. ‘Micah’s room.’

‘What’s that about?’

‘No idea.’ I glance at Micah, still watching me from the bed. ‘Everyone okay there?’

‘Yeah, we’re good.’

‘Okay. Give me a minute and I’ll head back.’ I pause. ‘On foot.’

I hang up and take another look around, slower this time. There’s an ordered chaos to the stacks of CDs, books and clothes. ‘Why do you think I ended up here?’

Micah shrugs. ‘You used to hang out here a bit, listen to me butcher songs.’ He runs his palm over the worn guitar. ‘Especially after you hooked up with Daniel.’

‘That was Gabe, not me.’

I still can’t imagine being that person; being with Daniel. But I can picture myself sitting on Micah’s carpet listening to him play, so I guess Gabe and I have that in common.

‘Did you and Jude get along…you know, before he left?’

‘Yeah, of course. Although we had some epic arguments over music.’ Micah smiles at the memory. ‘He was always banging on about bone-crunching rock. He didn’t care about musicianship, only that a wall of noise hit him in the chest. I, on the other hand, appreciate technical skill, even if I have none myself.’

‘Were you surprised when he walked away from’—I catch myself before I say
me
—‘the Sanctuary?’

‘Like I said, he had to in the end: he pushed Nathaniel too far.’ Micah lifts the guitar from his lap, rests it against the bed. ‘That’s when everything turned to crap. Nobody knew how to deal with him and the others being gone, including you. Especially you. It was like you didn’t know how to relax without Jude and Rafa. And it wasn’t just about them: you were tight with Ez and Zak and Jones. We all were. Daisy was a mess for a year.’

There’s so much history between the Rephaim and me. Maybe Mya’s right to be angry that I don’t remember any of it.

‘Everyone kept waiting for you to go too,’ Micah says, when I don’t speak. ‘I think that’s half the reason you hooked up with Daniel in the end—to reassure the rest of us you were staying. Don’t look at me like that, he’s not a total tool. You would never have been with him if he was—you didn’t care about us
that
much.’ He gives me a crooked smile. ‘Daniel’s straight down the line. He takes everything seriously, but he’s the smartest guy here and you liked that he saw you as more than a soldier.’

‘Then why did I hang out in here so much?’

Micah stretches out his long legs, crosses them at the ankles. ‘You still needed to laugh occasionally.’ He studies me.
Reads
me. ‘For what it’s worth, I think he was in love with you, or as close to it as Daniel can be. I’m not saying he was the love of your life, but you were happy enough with him.’

‘I told you that, did I?’

‘As a matter of fact you did. We had a lot of deep and meaningful chats in this room. Me sitting here with a guitar, you down there keeping the wine topped up. Once we started to have serious run-ins with the Outcasts, it was obvious you were never joining them. Some of the fights you had with Rafa…’ Micah checks my reaction, lets it drop. ‘You were doing okay for a while. And then the Rhythm Palace happened, and Ez’s injuries. When you heard the news…I’ve never seen you like it. You tore the gym apart. You couldn’t go to Ez. You thought Mya was going to get them all killed and that Jude couldn’t see the danger. Nobody could get near you. Not Daisy. Not me. Certainly not Daniel. Everything you’d been repressing for all those years came out: you blamed yourself for letting Jude go, blamed yourself for what happened to Ez. That was the start of the downward slide with Daniel, even if it took another year or so before you finally ended it.’

‘And then what?’

‘And then last year you started talking to Jude again. Daniel acted like it was no big deal but it was eating him up big time. He was prickly whenever you left to see Jude and then pretended he didn’t notice how distracted you were when you came back.’

I lean back on my elbows. I’m adrift again. Unmade. It’s always the same when I hear the Rephaim talk about this other life I don’t remember. ‘Was I planning to join the Outcasts by that point?’

He shakes his head. ‘I doubt it. Reconnecting with Jude and turning against the Sanctuary—that’s two very different things.’

‘But you just said—’

‘You were still with us, even if your head wasn’t. You volunteered to go with Taya and Malachi when we got a tip about the Gatekeepers sniffing around in Iceland. The three of you ended up in a brawl with Bel and Leon. You took a blade to the leg.’ He brushes his finger across his thigh on a spot that matches one of my old scars. ‘But you guys still came back with a hellion.’

Something cold and dry stirs in the back of my mind. Like sawdust on the floor of the cage. ‘What happened to it?’

‘We lost it.’

‘When?’

‘Around the time you disappeared. Daniel tried to shift with it and the filthy hell-turd took him to a horde of Gatekeepers.’

I reposition myself on the carpet. I can’t get comfortable. There’s not enough space in my body to carry all this. It’s big, it’s important. And it’s too much right now. I close my eyes, let my attention drift. Thoughts scatter, diffuse.

Micah starts to play again, a slow blues tune. When I look up, I find the watercolour painting. All pinks and purples and oranges. Huge brown eyes stare out from under a thick fringe. Melancholic, heartbreaking, beautiful.

‘Who is she?’

He doesn’t lift his eyes. ‘Adeline. ’

‘Is she Rephaite?’

‘No. Perfectly, fragilely human.’

‘It’s a stunning painting.’

‘Self-portrait. She was gifted.’

‘Was?’

He keeps strumming. ‘Probably still is.’

I sit up straighter. The room doesn’t spin. I need to get back to Jude, but there’s something in Micah’s voice that holds me here.

‘What happened?’

‘I remembered I wasn’t human.’

‘What does that mean?’

A few more bars. ‘I couldn’t give her what she wanted—a husband, fat happy babies—so I walked away while she still had time to have them.’

‘Were you in love with her?’

He changes from strumming to picking. ‘Yes.’

‘Shit, Micah, I’m sorry.’

‘Nathaniel warned us against forming attachments. I thought I knew better.’

‘How long ago?’

‘Fifteen years, four months…I’ll pretend I don’t know the weeks and days.’

‘Have you seen her since?’

‘From a distance. With kids.’ He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘She got married, and I’m back to “wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am” for the rest of eternity. Could be worse.’

I watch him focus on the strings. ‘So Nathaniel prefers you screw around rather than form meaningful relationships if it means you have to explain who you really are?’

‘You still catch on quick.’

‘How does that fit with the lecture Daniel gave me about Nathaniel teaching the Rephaim to “control the lustful desires” of our fathers?’

‘Ah now, see, there’s doctrine and then there’s reality. And it’s not realistic to think a bunch of supernatural beings eternally trapped in adolescent bodies with adolescent urges are going to keep their pants on.’

‘So he just turns a blind eye.’

‘If we’re discreet he can delude himself into thinking it’s not happening. Plus we can’t procreate, so that makes it less of an issue for him. Or the Garrison.’

Micah changes his tune to something lighter, faster. ‘So what’s going on with you and Rafa?’

I scuff the sole of my shoe over the carpet, notice a wine stain half hidden under his bedside table. ‘It’s complicated.’

‘I don’t doubt that. Not much of a surprise, though. All that brawling and sledging had to be compensating for something.’

I look away. His words aren’t all that different from Mya’s theory on my past with Rafa.

‘What?’ he asks.

‘Mya says I threw myself at Rafa and he turned me down. She thinks that’s what he and I fought over before they all left.’

Micah’s fingers stall on the strings. ‘Firstly, you wouldn’t throw yourself at anyone. And secondly, if you did and it was Rafa? There’s no way he’d knock you back. I don’t know what happened between you two, but it was bigger than that.’

I try to imagine that other life with Rafa in it. But which version? The Rafa I fought in the training room in Dubai, the one who forgot I wasn’t Gabe and needed to pin me to the mat? Or the Rafa I was wrapped around at the beach two days ago, whose lips and hands set my skin on fire? I’d take either version right now, as long as he’s standing in front of me, alive and in one piece.

‘Then what was it?’

Micah’s door swings open before he can answer and Daisy steps in. ‘Nathaniel has—’ She stops when she sees me. ‘Oh, hey.’

‘Doesn’t anybody knock anymore?’ Micah says, but he’s already set the guitar aside. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Nathaniel’s called everyone to the chapterhouse. He and the Five must have made a decision about going to Iowa.’

WATCH FOR THE SPIN

I want to ask. I can’t.

I follow Daisy and Micah downstairs and along a hallway, realise we’re at my door. I’m vaguely aware of Daisy telling Jude what’s happening and then the four of us going down more stairs. Jude takes my hand as we walk. He gives a quick squeeze and lets go.

We move beyond the main buildings, out into the open compound between the main piazza and the chapterhouse, past the angel statue. Gravel crunches under our boots. Dull clouds drift down the mountain, making it impossible to know what time of day it is. My best guess is mid-afternoon. Muffled voices carry from the ancient building ahead of us.

The chapterhouse is packed. Conversation is low, whispered. Jude stands on his toes to do a quick headcount. ‘There’s at least a hundred and fifty Rephaim in here. Maybe more.’

It’s still not enough to hide the blood and vomit stains on the stones. I hear Mick’s grunts, Joffa’s screams. Mya’s words:
That’s it. No one else survived.

Nathaniel is on the dais. Daniel is on his right—of course—Calista and Uriel behind him. Ez, Mya and Jones push through the crowd to us. ‘Zak’s stayed with Dani,’ Ez whispers to me. Malachi hovers on his own at the back of the chapterhouse near the main doors. Everyone is tidier now: fresh clothes, blood gone, bruises and cuts healed.

Nathaniel’s attention skims over the faces of the Rephaim. He seems to linger on Jude or me—it’s hard to tell from this distance—and then raises a hand for quiet. A hush falls immediately. ‘Thank you.’ His voice rolls from the walls and ceiling like the ocean. All movement ceases. It’s so quiet I can hear chirping outside. I have no idea what kind of bird makes that sound. It’s as foreign to me as everything else here.

‘As you are all aware, Zarael has Taya and Rafael prisoner in a room that inhibits them from shifting beyond its walls. Most of you also now know that the woman responsible for that room is in our custody.’ He doesn’t look at us. ‘We have also now become aware of a child, a girl, who claims to have a psychic connection to all of you. She too is in our custody.’

Mya shifts her weight beside Jude. She’s paler than usual. She clicks her fingernails against each other. The sound is loud in the chapterhouse. Jones glances at her, nudges her shoulder. She scowls at him, leaves her nails alone.

‘Who is this child?’ someone closer to the front asks.

‘A prophet,’ Nathaniel says. ‘Sent to us at our time of need.’

Jude turns to me, mouths: ‘Seriously?’

The Rephaim are silent, and then: ‘How does the trap work?’

‘Did you know about it?’

The questions come from opposite sides of the chapterhouse, meet in the hollow of the domed ceiling.

‘There are forces working against us,’ Nathaniel says. ‘Things in the dark that even I cannot see. I believe our enemy has found a way to harness them in this realm.’

Is this a story to keep his Rephaim under control, or does Nathaniel really believe it? Either way, there are massive gaps in the information he’s sharing.

‘When are we going after Taya and Rafa?’ Malachi calls out from the back.

I hold my breath. This is it.

Nathaniel scans the faces of the Rephaim, slowly. Controlled. ‘When I receive a sign from the archangels.’

It’s like someone stomps on my chest in steel-cap boots, crushes all the air out of me. He’s not sending Rephaim to Iowa.

There’s movement in the chapterhouse now, shuffling, murmuring. Whispered questions. My head pounds. When did the archangels enter the equation? Daniel seems composed but his eyes are fixed on a spot somewhere above my head. Did he know that’s what Nathaniel was going to say?

A storm builds behind my ribs. Accusations tumble over each other in my mind, fight to be given voice. I draw breath, ready to launch them at Nathaniel. Ready to—

The doors behind me crack open. Cold air hits the back of my legs. I turn, annoyed, and see Brother Ferro from the infirmary. He’s carrying something, a wooden box. The strangeness of it cuts through the haze of anger.

Malachi reaches him before the monk has a chance to close the doors. Someone’s asked Nathaniel another question—about how he found Dani—but I’m not really listening now because there’s an intense whispered exchange between Malachi and Brother Ferro. Malachi wants to see what the monk is holding; the monk doesn’t want to show him. Malachi takes him by the elbow and leads him outside. Jude catches my eye and we follow them. The air is bracing on the chapterhouse steps. It sharpens my focus.