‘So this influence she has over everyone, it’s about the money?’
Ez watches me in the mirror as she plaits her hair. ‘She sources jobs that pay well, but it’s more than that. She’s given us another way to exist as Rephaim.’
‘As what—mercenaries?’
‘No,’ Ez says patiently, ‘as something other than Nathaniel’s puppets.’
‘I can’t believe you’re defending her.’
‘She’s not always like this.’ Ez’s fingers deftly work through her luscious hair. ‘Being around you brings the worst out in her. Jude and Rafa, they never got over leaving you. No matter what was said, or how bad things got between the three of you, it ripped their hearts out that you stayed behind. We could all see it. Mya wanted their full attention; she never got it. And then a year ago she lost them both.’
‘And she blames me.’
Ez lets her hands drop. ‘I know you can’t see it, but she’s not a bad person. She was on her own for a long time not knowing who or what she was.’
‘Did her mother survive?’
‘Of course not; she died like they all did. Mya was raised by her mother’s cousins.’
I glance at her. Rafa hasn’t told Ez about Jason’s mother surviving—or her connection to my mother.
‘What did she mean about learning to shift the hard way?’
Ez ties off the end of her plait with a strip of leather. ‘Her cousins tried to rape her when she was eighteen. I imagine the trauma of it triggered the shift.’
I open my mouth. Close it. ‘That’s awful.’ Water still dribbles from one of the taps and I turn it off tighter. ‘Did I know that…before?’
‘I doubt it; you two never really clicked.’
‘But she and Jude did.’
Ez nods. ‘That was the issue between you and her. You didn’t like the way she encouraged him to question Nathaniel.’
I try to imagine a situation when I wouldn’t support someone—anyone—questioning authority. I can’t.
‘You didn’t like that he was listening to someone other than you. That hadn’t happened before.’
I chew my lip. I have to ask. ‘Was she right about me and Rafa?’
‘Were you in love with him? I don’t know. You never gave much away.’
‘What about Mya? Was she—was he…?’
Ez gives me a sympathetic smile. ‘I can’t speak for Mya, but I can tell you that whatever was between Rafa and her, it wasn’t about love.’
TUMBLING DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE
Ez takes me to a room not unlike the one Rafa and I arrived in. It’s cramped and humid, even with the air conditioner rattling away, but doesn’t reek quite so badly of burnt food and sweat. I pick a bunk, fuss with my bag.
Rafa and Zak are already there. I’m so tangled up in my own thoughts I can’t look at Rafa so it takes me a while to realise that he’s avoiding my eye as well.
‘What’s up?’ he finally asks.
‘Nothing.’
‘You’ve packed that thing three times now.’
Who’s asking the question? The Rafa who sets my skin alight, or the one always angry at me? ‘I’m no good at sitting still.’ I turn away from him. ‘Have you had a chance to look at the journal we got in Iowa?’ I ask Ez.
She looks from Rafa to me and then nods. ‘I had a quick flick—and then I stood in the sun for ten minutes to get the chill out of my bones. There are pages about blood-letting and other rituals involving a baby—I’m not sure I want to read it in detail. And those photos…’
‘Is it here?’
She shakes her head. ‘Mya’s got it. She can read German better than me. Between us we’ll work out what it says and maybe get some clues about the iron room. Everyone was a little jumpy when we told them about it. I suspect that will be the next job—destroying that farmhouse.’
‘That’s a given,’ Rafa says.
I check my watch. It’s still set to Pan Beach where it’s ten-thirty. I’m exhausted. ‘What’s the time here?’
‘A little after four-thirty,’ Ez says.
‘So, are we going to sit here and stare at each other for the next few hours?’ I ask.
‘We could go into the city.’ Ez looks to Zak. ‘We should see Khaled while we’re here.’
‘Who’s Khaled?’ I ask.
‘A gold seller we met a few years ago. Lovely man.’
Zak gives her a curious look. ‘You need more jewellery?’
‘Always.’ She smiles.
I’ve never seen Ez wear gold, but that’s probably because the only time I see her she’s in combat mode.
‘Do you want to come?’ she asks.
I shake my head. ‘I need to ring Maggie.’
‘Rafa?’
He meets my eyes. ‘I’ll stay with Gabe.’
‘You’re
where
? I thought Dubai was all luxury hotels and resorts.’
‘It is,’ I say. ‘We’re just not staying at any of them.’ That’s an understatement. The mattress I’m sitting on is tissue-thin.
‘What’s happening there?’ In the background, I can hear a police radio. ‘Are you back at the bar?’ The last time I saw Maggie was at our place, briefly, when I was throwing clothes into a bag and telling her about Jude’s laptop. We didn’t have time for much of a chat.
‘We came back to help Rick clean up. The cops are still taking statements.’ A pause. ‘Mick and Rusty showed up about ten minutes ago and recognised Taya from the other night. They know she’s connected with what happened up the mountain.’
I glance at Rafa. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with a block of wood, a bucket of water and some sort of whetstone, sharpening a katana with a practised rhythm. His jaw is still slightly discoloured where I hit him.
‘What happened?’ I ask.
‘The cops had to get between Mick and Taya. He thinks Taya knows where the hellions are, and…’ She pauses again. I can tell by the repetitive clicking that she’s tapping a polished nail on her phone.
‘And?’
‘Rumour is he’s putting together a’—she drops her voice—‘
militia
to protect the town.’
‘You’re kidding.’
Rafa’s head comes up. He absently flicks water onto the sword without looking at it. ‘What?’ he mouths, not breaking his rhythm.
I shake my head. ‘I’m sure Rafa will sort it out when we get back.’ And by sort out, I mean beat the crap out of Mick and his militia.
I wipe the back of my neck with a towel. Shouldn’t it be cooler north of the equator this time of year?
I don’t want to end the call yet. ‘How’s Simon?’
‘Still waiting to get stitches. I saw him before he left in the ambulance. He’s not happy, but I think he’ll be okay.’
My eyes sting. I rub them. ‘And things are sorted with you and Jason?’
‘We’re getting there.’ A tiny sigh. ‘Are you sure you’re okay there?’
I glance at Rafa and then find a scuff mark on the wall above him to study. I wish I was back in our bathroom, chatting to Maggie in front of the mirror. Privately. Maybe then I’d tell her what Mya said to me. I need to talk about it because it’s doing my head in. Is Mya right? Did I humiliate myself? Is that what Rafa’s hiding from me?
‘I’m fine, Mags.’
A pause. I wait for her to push for a real answer, but instead she asks, ‘Do you trust Mya?’
Much easier. ‘No. But it’s only one job and I want that laptop.’
She doesn’t ask what the job is and I don’t tell her.
‘I was thinking Jason and I could make a few discreet calls while you’re gone. You know, to the hospital in Melbourne.’
‘Oh…’ It takes a second for my brain to change gears, and then tears threaten. Even after knowing her for nine months, Maggie’s thoughtfulness still catches me by surprise. I’m glad she’s not here, but that doesn’t stop me wishing she was. I could do with one of her hugs right now.
Rafa has put the sword aside. He’s watching me closely, forearms resting on his knees, waiting for me to get off the phone.
I swallow. ‘Thanks, Mags. I’ll see you soon.’
‘Please take care.’
I disconnect the call, feel a pang of loneliness.
Rafa raises his eyebrows at me. ‘What am I taking care of?’
I tell him about the Butlers.
‘Idiots.’
‘They think they’re protecting their town.’
‘They’re trigger-happy morons looking for an excuse to play commando in the forest. With any luck they’ll shoot each other and we won’t have to worry about them.’
I want to tell him about Maggie and Jason’s offer to call the hospital. But he’s as likely to be annoyed at Jason’s involvement and I don’t have the energy for another argument with him today.
Rafa’s phone beeps. He checks the message.
‘Zak and Ez will bring dinner when they come back.’ He glances at my eyes, and then my pillow. ‘Are you tired? You’ve got time for a quick nap.’
‘What are you going to do?’
He holds up his sword, the curved blade still dripping water.
I don’t need to be told twice.
I spread my towel over the tatty mattress, lie down and listen to the steady rasp of steel on stone as Rafa returns to sharpening. Metal bars beneath the flimsy mattress cut into my back, but at this point I don’t care. I put my arm across my face to block out the light, willing sleep to come.
‘…Nearly there.’
Jude’s nudging me awake.
I open my eyes, yawn, carefully move my shoulders and legs. After nearly twenty-two hours of travel, every muscle in my body feels atrophied.
‘How long?’ It’s still dark out, so all I see are guide-posts flashing past my window, reflective squares of red, as we race down the highway.
‘About twenty minutes.’ Jude stops scratching at the stubble on his chin and grins at me, one hand still on the steering wheel. His face is lit by the green dashboard light. ‘By the time the sun’s up, I’ll be carving that famous right point break.’
‘And by the time it sets, I’ll be sitting in casualty waiting for you to get stitched up.’
He laughs. ‘It hasn’t been that long since I’ve been on a board.’
‘It’s been long enough.’
‘Come on, princess, you’ll get to see the sun come up at Bells Beach.’
‘I’d rather have seen it from the window of a motel near the airport.’
I turn side-on in my seat, lean my head against the cool glass of the window. Jude’s tapping away on the steering wheel to a tune only he can hear, smiling at the road. Where does he get this level of enthusiasm after a long-haul flight from London? It’s not normal. Who bounces off a plane after being jammed in economy for nineteen hours, smiles through Customs, flirts with the bleary-eyed girl on the car rental counter and then sets off in an unfamiliar sedan in pitch darkness to tackle roads in a country he’s never driven in before?
He shoves my shoulder without taking his eyes off the road. ‘Come on,
maate
,’ he says, imitating the dreadlocked stoner who sat behind us on the plane from Singapore
.
‘It’s one of the world’s best surf beaches.’
And that’s it: it’s his pick. Mine was London. We spent two months hanging out in pubs, trawling through old bookshops, taking trips to the west coast and Scotland. We picked up bits of work in between—me in a cafe, Jude in a bar. But he craves the sun like a lizard, so after a cold month in England it wasn’t enough to head to France or even Greece. No. We had to head to the other side of the planet.
‘So, I was thinking,’ he says, ‘seeing as we’re already in Australia, I thought we should head north next and check out that place I was telling you about. Pandanus Beach.’
I am so not in the mood for this right now. ‘Can’t we get where we’re going first? I’m tired, I’m hungry for something that doesn’t come covered in plastic or foil, and I’d like to stop moving for a few hours.’
‘And clearly you’ve got PMS.’
‘Fuck off.’
He laughs. ‘That’s the spirit, princess. Fire up.’ He reaches behind me to rummage around on the backseat. ‘I know what you need,’ he says, digging in his backpack. ‘Something to get the blood pumping.’
I groan. ‘It’s four in the morning, Jude, I am not listening to Foo Fighters or AC/DC or Led Zeppelin—’
‘Trust me, you’ll love it.’ He pulls his hand back, triumphant, a CD between his fingers.
It’s not that I’m not happy to be in Australia. It’s not that I’m not looking forward to a few weeks kicking back at the beach. It’s not even that I don’t like his music. I’m tired and, yes, possibly a little hormonal. And Jude knows me well enough that he should stop needling me.
‘You take that CD out and you know where’s it’s going to end up, don’t you?’
His eyes widen with mock fear. ‘Where?’
‘Up your arse, bro.’
‘But that would involve you moving off that seat, and that’s not happening any time soon, is it?’
I bite back the urge to laugh. We’ve had this exchange of insults a thousand times, and the familiarity is disarming. But I’m trying to make a point here.
I snatch it out of his fingers and wind down the window. The sound of the road rushes in. I’m not going to throw it out, but for a second he believes I might. He takes his hands off the wheel and his eyes off the bitumen.
‘Give me that before you hurt yourself,’ he says, wrestling with me.
‘Watch what you’re doing.’ I’m trying to see past him, but I’m not giving up the CD.
‘I’m not joking—’
‘Neither am I—’
‘Fuck!’
Too late, the car has drifted off the road. We’re in soft dirt on the verge, heading straight for the pale trunk of a massive tree. Jude reefs the wheel. For a few seconds we’re back on the bitumen, but he’s over-corrected. He spins the wheel the opposite way, the car fishtails all over the road.
‘It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.’
I’ve dropped the CD. I’ve got one hand on the dash and the other on the car door, bracing myself. For the first time since I woke up, I’ve got nothing to say.
We’re sliding sideways down the middle of the highway, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night. Jude rides the brake. Tyres squeal, burn. And then they grab on the road and the world turns upside down. End over end. Glass shatters, metal twists, the car jolts so hard I scream. Dirt flies in through the window. We keep tumbling. Something smacks into the back of my head. An explosion of white across my vision. The car is crumpling around us. My legs aren’t where they should be. Something breaks…Something else lets go.
And then everything stops. The engine, my screaming. My head swims from a stabbing pain and petrol fumes. I’m upside down, hanging from my seatbelt. Blood rushes to my head…rushes
down
my head, drips in my eyes. I can’t feel my legs.