Sword- Part Two Page 2

  ‘It’s futile.’ Finn sounded drained and cynical as he continued to pull me along, unheedful of my squirming attempt to free myself.

  But his words were a seraph blade to my heart.

  Swallowing, I froze in my tracks. ‘What? No! You mean he’s too far gone? His humanity is dead?’

  He looked at me then, through the force of his bright blue eyes, so that I could see he was telling the truth. ‘No, I don’t. I mean there’s no way you can save him now without his father Elijah’s help. You need to find a way to bring him back from the darkness.’

  ‘She poisoned you, and you’re still here,’ I protested as Finn coerced me to continue walking, reminding me that he was one of them and yet Semyaza and Isabella had poisoned him and were able to exercise control over him. ‘Why aren’t you delirious and wandering in your mind?’

  Finn remained silent for a minute, concentrating upon the task at hand. He seemed to be taking me to the street via another private entrance, the one used by the club’s members and, a moment later, we stood outside. The street was still cast in shadow, the sky above was the denim-washed blue of very early morning. There was the occasional rumble of a car passing by and trucks on Orchard Street making early deliveries, but all remained hushed.

  ‘It takes an extraordinary act of willpower to overcome the poison. And it might have something to do with me being Semyaza’s son. Only few have such power. I warned my Anakim brother – I told Elijah to reconcile himself to his powers, to use them – though now it is too late. But he is still the Keeper of the Seed and, though poisoned, has some part in this to play yet.’

  ‘I have to go back for him,’ I insisted, glancing back at Home House every chance I got. ‘Isabella is a sadist. I can’t leave him with her. Not in his condition. She’ll destroy him.’

  He looked at me pityingly. ‘Don’t be a fool, Sage. There is no going back. He’s already gone from here.’

  ‘But the others–’

  ‘You must forge ahead. Your safest course is to enlist the help of his father. Only with his father Elijah’s help will you be strong enough to stand against Semyaza and save the Anakim.’ He paused to scan the still street. ‘But you’re correct ... it’s true that Isabella enjoyed tormenting me as she now does Elijah ... but my – our – father made her do it. She has a dark, dark heart but is not quite as soulless as Semyaza.’ The protest lodged in my throat. Looking up at him with a horrified curiosity, I heard him say, ‘It was meant to be a lesson.’

  Impatiently, he glanced down the street again as if searching for something or someone or, perhaps, waiting for it to be all clear.

  ‘What kind of lesson?’ I asked, suspicious at what I was about to hear.

  ‘A lesson in selflessness. I was acting selfishly in helping Saffron. I was doing it to appease my own conscience and for my own human desires. I did it to make me feel better about myself and my intentions. Apparently, true altruism has no ego.’ His mouth curled up at the corners but there was no warmth in it. ‘As you can see, I failed to learn my lesson.’

  I had not thought of Finn’s actions from any other perspective but the one I shared with my twin. I had not thought that he had tried to warn or save my sister. It never even occurred to me that he might even have saved her life by leaving her in a burning house. Of course, it could just as well have been the case that he had intended for her to die there – but he must have known that I would not have allowed that to happen any more than the Anakim.

  Casting my mind back, I said the first thing that came into my mind, ‘But you told Fi that you only have a half-brother.’

  ‘No,’ he corrected me, his naturally pale face showing some colour from his restrained anger. ‘I didn’t know I had a half-sister, not that I didn’t have one. And this information was kept from me until recently. I didn’t know Semyaza had some kind of military breeding plan either. And, believe me, it hasn’t been all one big, happy family.’

  That much was easy to believe.

  I sighed in confusion and frustration, glancing back up at the row of terraces behind me, desperately desiring to return. But it was impossible. The wards were down and Finn’s moment was abruptly over. Already the dark clouds overhead were massing and the sound of booming thunder rent the stillness of the street.

  I started, ready for battle or flight, but Finn still had his hand firmly around my own and had no intention of letting go. Fear and anger led me to spark the marking on my palm, just a small surge that leapt between my fingertips. Maybe I could get away, after all.

  But Finn must have understood my intentions as he commanded, ‘Leave things to the others. They are far better equipped than you at handling the Fravashi. They’ve done it before. Let brother fight brother. Don’t interfere.’

  Another crack of thunder and lightning overhead had me ducking for cover as, in the distance, a bright headlight beamed towards us, rapidly approaching. As the thunder subsided, I recognised the rumble of the Ducati’s Testastretta 11° engine.

  ‘God, I love ... that bike,’ Finn garbled, staring at the approach of my sister on his old motorcycle.

  Casting a startled look at Finn, I thought he might have been admitting something else before he changed his mind. ‘I thought you loved my sister. You seemed to feel something for her before you destroyed–’

  He spoke in a low voice, cutting me off. ‘It’s complicated.’

  I shook my head, feeling more in sympathy with Fi with every passing moment. ‘That’s a Facebook status, Finn. Not an emotion.’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand.’ He turned his face away, but not before I caught a glimpse of some inner anguish. ‘Just ... don’t interfere, Sage. I have my reasons. Leave it be. Please.’

  I fell silent. There was a lot of feeling in that last word.

  Finn raised his head and looked down the street without actually looking at anything – he seemed to be staring off into space.

  ‘I can’t be here when she arrives,’ he muttered.

  I nodded in understanding.

  ‘Don’t follow me back in, Sage. Let the Nephilim deal with this. You and your sister need to get as far away from here as possible.’ He finally dropped my hand. ‘Remember what I said – you need Elijah’s help if you want to defeat Semyaza and save your boyfriend.’

  ‘My fiancé,’ I automatically corrected.

  His lips twisted at my response. ‘Just do as I say ... but stay away from me.’

  Then Finn turned on his heel and quickly walked away from me with what seemed casual indifference. I tracked his movement like a hunter, even now seeing him as the enemy. Despite all that we had just been through, his tuxedo remained uncreased and spotless, and he cut a dashing, debonair figure as he re-entered the private club as if he’d been born to privilege – which I supposed he was, even though he obviously cared little for it.

  Fleetingly, I caught a glimpse of his fixed expression in his last minute decision to take one final look back – but he wasn’t looking at me – just as Fi skilfully and at considerable speed skidded to a halt on the opposite side of the street, burning rubber. My eyes rounded in shock and amazement – she had somehow obtained a figure-hugging black leather outfit and looked like she’d stepped straight out of a Hollywood superheroes blockbuster.

  Typical Fi! If she somehow managed to survive the Grigori, the Fravashi and Finn – not to mention Gabriel ... though, as to that, I seriously wondered if he had bought it for her or encouraged her to buy it – and make it through to our eighteenth birthday in less than a month, Mum and Dad were going to kill her! Well, that’s if they ever found out about both the motorcycle and the leather outfit – but I didn’t much like her chances! Though, to be honest, I didn’t much like mine either!

  Fi flipped up the dark visor of her helmet and shouted, ‘Get on!’

  But she didn’t have to tell me twice as I was already dashing across the road in my borrowed high heels, trying to run faster and almost falling over, ready to jump onto the back of the Ducati
in anticipation of sudden freedom. Hitching up my floor-length designer dress around my thighs, uncaring of how unladylike it seemed, I swung a leg over and straddled the bike as Fi held out to me a matching helmet to the one she was wearing and instructed for me to put it on and hold tight.

  Doing as she ordered, I felt the world shrink with my field of vision. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to riding the back of a motorcycle – even the Ducati, with its polished paint, sparkling chrome, and bespoke leather fittings – especially as we always seemed to be fleeing from some imminent danger. A sensible, tiny voice in the back of my head was reminding me about the last time I got on this bike, and what a very bad idea this was, but I didn’t have much choice in the matter as I wouldn’t get very far attempting to run away from the Fravashi in a slinky silk dress and Louboutin heels.

  Fi swivelled around to face the front, throwing over her shoulder before she flicked her visor back down again, ‘Was that Finn with you?’

  I felt the tension in her spine as I wrapped my arms around her leather-jacketed waist and didn’t bother to answer as another crack of lightning and thunder rent the air above us. Fi opened the throttle and, in response, the Ducati’s Testastretta 11° engine let out a loud roar as if responding to the elements.

  This was a very, very bad idea!

  Grasping and clutching convulsively at Fi’s waist with suddenly sweaty palms, the motorcycle gave an almighty lurch, swiftly shooting forward and jerking me hard back.

  And we were off.

  A moment later, a chill wind whipped and slapped at my exposed skin, making me wish I hadn’t lost my shrug in the melee and that I was dressed like my sister – I had to concede that a full leather jacket and pants didn’t seem like such a bad thing now. The edge of my dress fiercely flapped about my legs whilst the surrounding calm spring climate began to turn blustery. The sky darkened as storm clouds cut off the sun, chasing down the early morning light and devouring it. As Fi rounded the corner of Portman Square and we gained our freedom, I twisted my head to look back at Home House, hoping to catch a final glimpse of St. John or the others.

  But a terrifying, sickening sensation momentarily overcame me. From the rooftops of the adjoining terraces where the buildings were clustered together so closely that their eaves abutted one another, leaping from one roof to the next, skirting in between the chimney pots, was a shadowy figure whose platinum blond hair and patrician features readily identified him to me. My gasp was stifled by the constraining helmet, even as I knew there was no way to warn the others of this new threat.

  Louis Gravois landed lightly like a cat on all fours upon the patio outside the Asylum Room of Home House and, slithering like the serpent he was, disappeared from view through the shattered window.

  Fi shouted something back at me which I presumed to be ‘Hang on!’ or something similar, but her words were lost – muffled by the helmet and torn away by the wind and the noise of the Ducati – and she remained unaware of the demons we were fleeing as the motorbike picked up speed and we moved further away from Portman Square, putting distance between ourselves and Home House.

  The motorbike’s tyres skidded, churning up the asphalt, accelerating along the blurred landscape of buildings and greenery and parked cars as Fi navigated the tangled London streets, the wind buffeting my body. In the wide expanse before us, the sky retained the purity of morning, the light penetrating the gloom of the city, but it seemed so far away. Too far.

  Harsh shadows thickened around us as we flew by street after street, building after building, the only illumination coming from the streetlamps and windows of the houses and shops we passed by as the tempest overtook us. Like a spill of oil upon the ocean, the shadows took on a viscosity and density that would have made me tremble if it weren’t for the fact that I was already shaking uncontrollably from the wind chill.

  From behind Fi where I sat tightly circling her waist, I stared as something detached itself from the shadow, something within the shadow, something evil and dark and darting. A huge black cloud filled the street in front of us, rising up to the rooftops, ready to swoop. I felt Fi’s body jerk and the motorbike veer dangerously as we took a sharp turn and then another, scattering loose asphalt and pebbles in our wake. The shadow was gone just as quickly as it had appeared as the Ducati sped past, hurtling through the morning fray with Fi manoeuvring the motorcycle through a warren of narrow urban roads and alleyways.

  Another fierce explosion of thunder and lightning overhead bore down on us as Fi banked the motorbike and we sailed past yet another Tesco Metro and Costa Coffee store. Looking back over my shoulder, I witnessed the sidewalk broken to the bare earth, and no sign at all of the pursuing darkness. But then, in the periphery of my vision – distorted due to the helmet – I saw it fly past with the accuracy of a crossbow bolt as Fi jerked the motorcycle savagely sideways.

  And then the Ducati flipped and my hold was violently torn from my sister as, for what seemed an infinity, I had the terrifying, dizzying sensation of hurtling through the air ... and that I had become unfixed from the earth and all creation ... and was falling ... falling ... falling ...

  CHASING SHADOWS

  CHAPTER TWO

  A rush of feathers, the enormous obsidian wings beating still against the turbulent air, a sudden blow, as I was captured fast and threshed like chaffy grain until I landed hard up against the asphalt. Somewhere in all the chaos, my motorcycle helmet was torn from my head and I immediately missed its protection, as I experienced the disorienting, wild thrill ride of sudden weightlessness that left me questioning gravity. Shafts of colour danced in a myriad of blurred shapes, a kaleidoscopic journey through my mind – emerald, amber, ruby – until I realised I was staring up at blinking traffic lights.

  I was shocked and angry, my heart crazily pounding, but also desperately relieved to be able to feel all my limbs intact. Clearly, I had not been too seriously hurt – there would be countless cuts and bruises peppering my body later but, right at that moment, I was happy to be relatively unharmed. Regaining focus with a nauseating wrench, I saw the Ducati lying on its side, tyres aimlessly rotating, its engine gasping and moaning like an animal in pain.

  Sirens wailed in the distance but when I turned my head sharply to the right, the end of the street was shrouded in a thick blanket of fog. The sound of running footsteps, a distressed shout by a Good Samaritan attempting to get to the accident, and now the bike was disappearing behind a wall of swirling whiteness. I blinked, trying to take it all in.

  There was a complete white-out. But this was no natural fog.

  Whipping my head around to the left, my throat disgorged a stifled sound, somewhere between a fraught whisper and a trapped scream. Though visibility was limited, I saw Fi lying limply by the edge of the pavement and an enormous, foul thing sprawled on top of her, its deep black onyx wings blending with the asphalt. It had removed her helmet, exposing her deathly pale face, and was pressing her down as if it would pulverise her bones, crushing her to the earth.

  And then she moaned.

  Relief assailed me, and my body almost sagged with the release of tension, deflating as quickly as a balloon with a tiny hole in it as I saw that she was alive – I’d been vaguely terrified that she was dead after the spill we’d taken from the bike and the monstrous attack we had failed to fend off and, worse still, this evil creature. But the reprieve was short-lived.

  Though still unconscious, her body twitched and shook in the vicious throes of life and death beneath the semi-naked Fravashi, which could easily have been mistaken by any passer-by for a grotesque, very public lovemaking. Yet Fi was unaware of the fiend whose weight was bearing down upon her, squeezing the life out of her as he held her helpless form, indifferent to her unresponsive state.

  A bubble of hysterical laughter swelled up and I had to use all of my willpower to ruthlessly suppress it. No matter how many times I told myself that I understood what it meant to be the Wise One, to have knowledge of the Seed, and the
Grigori, and the Nephilim, and now the Fravashi and Belladonna, it wasn’t quite enough because it still took me unawares, it still seemed surreal to me that there was real evil and real monsters in the world.

  A sharp bark of hysteria escaped almost like a hiccup as I continued to stare at the monstrous thing sucking the life out of my twin sister. Parents reassured their children there were no real monsters but it wasn’t true – and the evidence was right before my eyes.

  At the sound, Sariel raised his head, slinging it around towards me. His eyes were fathomless – dark quarries of a stone heart that showed no pity and no remorse – and pinned me to the spot. He bared his teeth like a predator sensing its prey, sniffing the air as if devouring my scent to imprint it into memory. But he already had an opportunity to harm me; here was the creature that had grasped and held me fast in his immense raven wings before releasing me to cruelly abuse my sister. I could only assume he was savouring the moment – playing with us in the same spiteful manner as Belladonna.

  Swallowing down my fear, even as the chilling reality of this unwinnable situation sank like a stone deep down in my belly and settled there, I leapt up and launched myself forward with only one true intent; the desire to save Fi from this obscene abomination.

  Sariel laughed, but the sound was without mirth or beauty, and rolled off my sister to advance upon me relentlessly. He emerged from the gathering mist, wings outstretched like a bird of prey; demon spawn. His muscular arms and bare chest were heavily inked in a similar tribal design to Barak’s, but depicting different totems which displayed the unique narrative of his existence. Seeing it all now – the terrible beauty of the Fravashi whose demonic good looks, marred only by his dreadful facial scarring, enticed and repulsed simultaneously – I tried not to think about my vulnerable, weaponless state.

  Holding my breath, I closed my eyes for a moment and concentrated on the Seed, concentrated on the one pure and good thing in this universe. But, despite a slight tingling on my palm, my power was spent and I was alone.