Cadence of truth, p.10
Cadence of Truth, page 10
“Yeah, but it was what you said to me.” I hide my face in my armpit. “It got me excited.”
“Right, and it fired right back into me.”
I glance over my shoulder. “And you don’t see a problem with how that makes us a circuit?”
He frowns. “No?”
“Silas, we had to talk about boring, everyday crap to resonate in the first place, now you’re talking about turning me on when the purpose of all this is to fight actual enemies. I don’t think I want to be on a battlefield being mundane and horny at the same time.”
Silas laughs. “I don’t think that’s it. I can feel the flow of us when I hold your hands. I felt it the night at the convent when you recited the blessing. It’s not me electrocuting you; it’s the energy we make when we’re together. Uriel agrees.”
“You talked to Uriel about it?”
“Yeah, he thinks I should club you over the head and drag you to my cave. His exact words.”
“Lucky for you, you’re not an idiot. Come on, then. Let’s get this done before War comes back wondering what the hell we’re doing.”
We line ourselves up, stretching from side to side, bending our waists and making circles with our torsos like we’re hula-hooping.
“Your legs inside mine,” Silas reminds me. “Ready?”
I nod. “Sure.” I am not ready.
“I’ll run a bit first. Just feel what I’m doing, alright?”
He counts down, then we’re running together, tumbling after our first cartwheel because I land after Silas. That first attempt is as good as it gets for the next ten minutes, where we fall before our feet even leave the ground. Finally, we manage three cartwheels in a row.
War pops back occasionally to give us useless feedback, assuming we’ll suddenly do it right if he tells us we’re doing it wrong. We know what we’re doing wrong. I’m the little wheel; I need to move faster.
War says I keep breaking loose at the waist, so he ties our thighs together, which makes us worse for a while. I give up counting cartwheels because it’s costing me my concentration. After almost an hour, we have a breakthrough, making it halfway to War before we tumble. My limbs are noodle-weak now, my lungs on fire, but we push on only so we can go home. After another twenty minutes, we rumble past War, and he yells at us to stop before we fall off the mountain. We clatter to a halt in a tangle of legs, grinning like we’ve won Olympic medals.
But we both know a goal successfully reached is just the start of another of War’s awesome training ideas. He lets us take a break after that. The sun has burnt through the mist now, so War says it’s safe for Silas to crackle.
When we start back up, we try without hands or legs tied. We’ve nailed the hand part, but my legs are still trying to escape, so War ties our legs back together. I say tie. What’s really happening is a wide elasticated tube suddenly appearing around our legs. There’s plenty of flexibility, but they rub a little, and it’s strange being attached to someone else, especially when that someone else wants to move in a different direction. It’s like having one body with two brains.
This time I’m supposed to levitate us while Silas works on the physical act of cartwheeling. Silas keeps flipping out because he’s not actually hitting the ground, but he gets the hang of it after a few tries. He says it reminds him of when he first got his glasses and he expected the ground to be further away, but it wasn’t, and he kept landing too heavily on his joints when he walked.
He thinks the air cushions I’m making should be lower impact and, after every failed attempt, he complains about it like the composition of air is my responsibility. He can’t get his scientific head around how I’m manipulating it and making it solid, yet it’s still fundamentally unaffected in its composition. And I have absolutely nothing to tell him. This boy can send currents of electricity through anything that conducts it. He can make things explode. He studies physics. He can’t understand that I did not make the air.
We make it along the ridge several times, getting faster and further from the ground with each pass. On our final attempt, Silas’ ball of electricity wraps itself around us as we spin through the air above the mountain. War instructs us to bounce along the ridge, so every so often we hit the ground leaving a trail of scorch marks. We’re not impressed with ourselves for defiling such a beautiful place, but War says the mountains have enough majesty to hide a multitude of scars and would suffer the burns a thousand times over to see our little circus.
I hand War my phone so he can record our last pass over the ridge for Amethyst. She said watching us in Silas’ plasma ball during training reminded her of the time we went zorbing on my birthday. My arms and legs are just as jellified by the time we pack up to go home, and I can barely even lift my coat into my arms.
The volcanic sunset paints the mountaintops with fierce streaks of orange and pink. When the sun finally strikes the mountain like a nugget of gold, its last rays splinter along the ridge in both directions until it’s smothered by the slate blue of night. When we get home, it’s barely afternoon.
I wake in my own bed at ten to six the next morning and stumble to the kitchen to pour milk and burn toast. Archer’s already up.
“I need to talk to you and Seth about some stuff later,” I say. “Can you meet me at Albert’s at two?”
He freezes in the act of pouring milk on his cereal. He knows I’ve been avoiding Albert’s house for months. “Yeah, alright. Everything okay?”
“All good. Bring Leia, but don’t tell anyone else. Especially Magnus.”
He nods. “How did it go with Silas yesterday?”
I bring up the video on my phone and hand it over.
He laughs at the green plasma ball bouncing along the mountain. “You know what Leia would say?”
I pick up the last toast crust. “That it looks like it should be in Wicked?”
“She’ll want you to star in your own version. Obviously, she’ll make all the costumes, darling,” he says in a theatrical voice.
“And they’ll be a triumph, dear,” I warble. “An absolute triumph.”
“What’s a triumph?” Glenda asks, grabbing her apron from a hook by the door.
“This.” Archer hits play on the video again.
Glenda gasps and clutches her invisible pearls. “That man’ll have you toppling down the sodding mountain.”
“We’ve gone up against worse than gravity,” Archer says.
“Tell me that when you’ve broken all your legs and you’re lying at the bottom of a mountain, a sack of broken bones and tears.”
“Have you ever thought you might be a bit melodramatic?” I ask her. “I’d have got us in the air if we started to tumble. Or Silas would’ve teleported us.”
“Not if you knocked your brains out of your heads on the way down.”
“We were careful.” I kiss her on the cheek. “Promise.”
“Aye, well, make sure you stay careful.” Glenda ties her apron at the back. “Now, if you’ve finished your brekkie, be off with you. I’ve got a load of work to do before everyone else drags their lazy bones out of bed.”
Archer drinks the leftover milk straight from his bowl when he finishes his cereal, making sure to slurp. Glenda loves that. She flicks him with her tea towel.
“Don’t forget about later, Arch,” I remind him.
He nods, putting an apron on to help. Glenda reaches up and ruffles his hair, muttering about what a good boy he is.
10
Trapdoors & Wedding Caves
It’s two fifteen by the time Boxer brings the tea into the lounge. I offered to help since it’s my fault he’s got so much extra company, but he knows I don’t want to be in the kitchen.
Kite looks like she’s been sleeping as well as I’ve been, and Amethyst and Leia are high on gore and toddlers. For once, Amethyst isn’t curled on Boxer’s lap. Instead, she sits on Noah’s, and Seth’s sitting on the floor between Boxer’s knees. Everyone here is a couple except me and Caleb.
“I was approached by Cascade,” I tell them. “They want to recruit me.”
“Me too.” Kite yawns into her fist. “And Jed.”
I stare at my ordinary—not made by Albert—cup of tea. “More accurately, they want to recruit us.”
Seth frowns. “Why did they come to you?”
“I was the only one left to breach their own protocol for, since they already used it on the rest of you.”
“What?” Seth asks, confusion written on his face.
“Technically, they should’ve asked Daniel, but they found a loophole in the conditional agreement he made on Amethyst’s behalf before we went into the convent.”
Seth holds his hand up. “Back up, Vi.”
“Cascade has to get parental consent to approach. They asked Magnus.”
Seth looks bewildered. “Dad said no?”
“What do you expect?” Archer says bitterly. “He doesn’t want us to learn anything for ourselves. War told Uriel, who told Michael, who told Leia, that Dad keeps trying to interfere with our training.”
Leia squeezes his hand. “He worries about you.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t have to be a gigantic dick about it,” Archer grumbles.
“Magnus vetoed their approach, so now they can’t talk to you at all,” I say. “Technically, they were talking about just Seth, but I doubt Magnus will let them get away with asking Archer on a technicality. They’re just bold enough to risk Daniel’s wrath, but nobody wants to take Magnus on.”
“So, they just want Seth?” Archer asks.
“No. Michael put Seth forward for a very specific purpose,” I say, carefully gauging Seth’s reaction.
His cheeks flush a little. “Okay, look… Remember last year when Dad thought it would be best if I kept my abilities secret?” The whole room grumbles, and Seth carries on. “I don’t want to do that anymore. That kind of secrecy betrays trust. It’s not the same as spreading the risk. That makes sense. Keeping my abilities secret doesn’t.” He takes a deep breath. “Michael’s teaching me to use the trapdoor.”
“What’s the trapdoor?” Noah asks.
“It’s how Michael gets into Hell. Dad was obviously furious because he’s never been taught. Michael says he doesn’t have the right kind of sight. But I do. I can also ride the line between Heaven and Hell.”
Seth looks up uncertainly, dark eyes grazing each of us in turn to see how we’re taking this latest revelation. Confusedly is the consensus. The quizzical eyebrows have Seth drawing a deep breath to begin his next explanation, but Jed speaks instead.
“I see it sometimes. The line. Sometimes, it glows. White, blue, gold, red even. Sometimes, it’s cold and black like a draught sucking at my skin. I don’t feel wet when I translocate… The water doesn’t make me wet. But sometimes, I feel the line without seeing it, like a stripe licked across my neck. Sometimes, there are rose petals, and they call to me like human wishes do. It takes everything in me to ignore them.”
Archer looks at him funny, and I want to laugh, but I don’t. Nobody knows what to do with this Jed.
“So, it’s a real, tangible thing?” Amethyst asks.
“Yes,” Seth says. “It’s like a road map of scars. Or a patchwork even. It’s not straight. It’s not joined up. But I can feel it… and see it. I can even see where it should join up but doesn’t. The scars are like seams… weakening over time, or through hard usage with rituals.”
“So, how does it help Cascade?” I ask him.
Seth shrugs. “Presumably, they have a way of sealing things up, making the seams more secure. I don’t know. But if they can’t locate the scars in the first place…”
“That’s what they need you for,” I finish. “Are you interested?”
“Yes. If it stops demons getting out of Hell or wherever else they’re hiding. That’s the motivation, right?”
“As far as I know, yeah. But if you approach Cascade, ask your own questions. I said I’d talk to you about joining up, but I’m not here to persuade anyone. If their recruitment protocols are anything to go by, the whole organisation is in the dark ages.”
“What did they tell you?” Archer asks.
“They’re after Fane and have been for years, but he always gets away. Obviously, there are other demons raising Hell all over the place, but Fane is their primary target. That thing nobody will talk about—the Uprising—they think Fane was behind it. Everyone lost somebody, and it wiped out half of Cascade’s special forces. The archangels run the Celestial Council, and Uriel is the CEO, but I get the impression he’s just the friendly face of Cascade. Raguel seems to run the show. He’s the one who kept blocking the raid on the convent. That’s why they needed us in the first place.”
Archer’s face crumples in confusion. “They needed us?”
“Yeah, I know we thought it was all our idea, but no. One of the chapter leaders is Hazy’s wife. She’s Paul’s sister.”
Archer’s eyes go wide. “So, she’s Lilith’s daughter, yeah?”
“Yeah. Silver Abrecan.”
If Kite hadn’t turned to look at Jed in concern, I wouldn’t have noticed his stillness, but I don’t have time to dwell on it.
“Silver?” Amethyst squawks. “She’s Mara’s sire, but I thought—”
“That she was dead?” I look back at Jed who seems fine again. “Well, I met her, and she’s absolutely not dead. She’s worked for Cascade forever and is no fan of her mother’s.”
“She tried to block Raguel’s approach to me,” Jed says, almost absentmindedly. For a moment, a wistful smile appears on his lips like he’s reframing the incident. “She came to the house and argued with Grandad.”
“I thought Amos didn’t want you to join.” That’s what he told me after last year’s picnic.
Jed pushes his hair out of his eyes. “He thinks I’m corruptible, but I’m not my dad.”
Kite rubs her thumb over his hand. “He doesn’t want you hurt.”
Jed shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Silver obviously thought she had an ally, but the second she started in on why I shouldn’t join, Grandad became more and more adamant that I should. At first, I thought she was hypnotising him, but he’s never been susceptible to succubus charms. He wouldn’t make much of a looper if…” He stares at the wall above the fireplace. “She didn’t look all that annoyed when she left though. She caught me skulking in the hall and gave me this soft sort of smirk.” He blinks hard. “And she winked at me. Like everything had gone her way after all.”
“Maybe she did manipulate Amos, then,” Amethyst says. “Just not in the way he anticipated.”
“Hazy thinks Silver betrayed Cascade,” Noah pipes up from behind my sister’s hair.
“I’m trying to keep an open mind about that,” I say. “They want us all. They were impressed with our work at the convent. It seems Uriel planted a tonne of seeds to make sure we were there that night and seen by the right people. He has a way of getting around everything. He knew they’d break protocol for the right people. Silver mentioned Jophiel cocking things up and taking the blame for it herself, so the trust issues are everywhere, which is why I’m in two minds about joining. On the one hand, they need us. On the other, we’ll be expected to trust them as much as we trust each other.”
I gulp the last of my tea, wincing at the strong rhubarb and orange flavour at the bottom of the cup. When I realise he got me drinking tea without realising, I look up at Boxer, and he winks.
“Maybe our faith in each other will rub off on them,” Amethyst says.
“I want to join,” Archer says.
“Yeah, I thought you would.” I smile then turn to Leia. “They want you too.”
She frowns. “What do they want me for?”
“Seriously?” Kite gives her the eyebrows. “You can heal pretty much anything.”
“That would make her the enemy’s first target.” Archer shakes his head, then looks at Leia with big sad eyes. “I know it’s not up to me.”
“Uriel hasn’t told them anything,” I tell Leia. “Silver knows she should recruit you, but she doesn’t know why. Silas said she turned up at Uriel’s asking subtle questions, but he pleaded ignorance. Apparently, he’s scared I’ll skin him alive if he recruits you.” I offer a soft smile. “But it’s not up to me either.”
“If Uriel is concerned Leia will become a target, he’ll make sure she’s protected,” Seth says.
Archer chews his bottom lip. “Won’t that draw more attention?”
“Not if he’s subtle about it.”
“Uriel? Subtle?” Caleb snorts. “I’m not sure that word’s in his vocabulary, and he talks like a bloody dictionary.”
I smack his arm. “Uriel’s not stupid. If he recruits Leia, he’ll give her all the protection she needs without being obvious about it.”
“Who’s in, then?” Archer asks.
Everyone puts their hand up, including Noah, who turns pink and grins. “When I’m ready.”
“We’ll arrange a meeting and show up together,” I say. “Overwhelm them with all this awesomeness.”
Seth tips his head to the side when Boxer’s fingers burrow into his hair, and my gut twists. “I can’t believe Dad vetoed me.”
Archer harrumphs, his mutinous glare aimed at the empty fireplace.
“He threw one of their people out of the house.” I glance up when Caleb starts laughing. “An explosives expert called Elvis… who looks like actual Elvis.”
After a few seconds, Kite’s face lights up. “Maybe it is Elvis. He could’ve been a bloodborn.”
“Nah, he’s younger than dead Elvis. Younger than Vegas Elvis.”
“Nephilim, then,” Kite says.
“I really don’t think it was actually Elvis, Kite. The entire organisation would know how he allegedly died, and that would be one hell of a death to live down.”
Caleb stands up and curls his lip. Then he starts singing and swinging his hips while Kite sings along, and the rest of us try not to hurt ourselves laughing.
