Brotherhood of the Fallen, page 8
“No! It’s important that me and Eli are here to keep everything safe, and besides, I like my new job.”
“Good, because you’re great at it.” Alex raised his glass. “And way easier to deal with than Simon!”
It had been two months since Simon, Alex’s previous Bar Manager, had left and Zee had taken over the role, and he loved it. He also loved the fact that he had use of the flat upstairs. A partial sharing arrangement with Abigail Kendall, the DS on Newton’s team. He was currently spending half his time there, and had debated whether to fully move in, but with more of Belial’s jewels arriving now, he couldn’t really.
“Cheers, Alex. That’s good to know. Any idea what we can do with all of his stuff long-term, though? We can’t keep it forever.”
“There are a few options, I guess,” he mused while he sipped his beer, “but the more you accumulate, the more overall power you’ll have to contain. Digging a hole is a great idea. Maybe the best yet. However, with all your newfound wealth, you should have a proper safe installed. A big one.”
Zee blinked in shock. “I hadn’t considered that. The kind we can walk into, like in a bank?”
“Pretty much. You can then add spells to it, and you’d have double levels of protection. Make sense, right?”
“We could convert half the cellar!”
“Absolutely, if that’s the best space. Reinforce the walls, etcetera. I bet Caspian can recommend someone. He’d know companies who could do that.”
“That’s a brilliant idea. Nahum is arriving tomorrow. I can talk to him and Eli, and call Gabe. He’ll agree, I’m sure.” The more Zee thought about it, the more he liked it. There would be no need for it ever to leave their house, and seeing as Gabe had bought the farmhouse and the land for all of them to use, it made sense.
“I bet,” Alex added, as he put his beer down and loaded glasses in the dishwasher, “that your alchemist friend, JD, could recommend metals you could use for extra insulation, too.”
“Alex, you really are a bloody genius! That’s a brilliant idea.”
Alex winked. “I know. I might not be able to search for Belial, but I’ll do what I can.”
It had been a great source of frustration that Alex couldn’t use his magic skills to find Belial in other worlds. He couldn’t touch the jewels, and even if he could, they couldn’t risk him encountering such a powerful presence. It would kill Alex. Plus, there was nothing else they could use to find his agents. Until now.
“What about the manifesto?” Zee asked. “It will have been handled by people other than Jacobsen. Could you use that?”
“Of course, but isn’t that in London with Barak? Why don’t you ask Estelle to do that? It’s one of her specialities.”
“That’s actually a great suggestion. I don’t know why they haven’t considered it. Unless they have, and it failed. I’ll call Barak soon. He’ll still be up.”
“Hold on!” Alex held his hand up. “There’ll be other spells you can use, not just finding spells. Objects contain impressions, and the stronger the emotion, the stronger the impression is. A manifesto will have lots! A skilled witch should be able to draw out the emotions of who was writing it, maybe even where. I have a few spells in my grimoire. They all vary slightly, but hopefully one will work.” He grimaced. “I tried one on my own grimoire, but there are too many years, too many individuals to separate. It gave me a headache. The manifesto, however, could be perfect to try.”
“Really? That’s possible?”
“Perhaps. It’s worth a shot if you’re at a dead end.”
“We are for now, but we’re working on options.” Zee forgot all about cleaning the bar, excited by the prospect of unlocking the manifesto’s secrets. “Wow. If we could pin down who wrote it, even if it’s years old, it would tell us something. Surely though, a psychic witch like you would have better results?”
“Maybe.” Alex pulled his long, dark hair out of his top knot and rubbed his head as if it ached. “Confusing, isn’t it? I don’t know what hidden talents Estelle has, but she might have success. Or, what about the Moonfell Witches? Olivia was telling us about them when we saw her at New Years.”
They’d had a big New Years Eve party at the farmhouse, and all of their White Haven friends had attended. The witches, Newton’s team, the PCs from the town, Stan, and Ghost OPS. It had been epic. A way to celebrate after vanquishing Black Cronos, and to toast Olivia’s pregnancy, of course.
“They saved Olivia,” Alex continued, “and I gather Odette saw Nahum’s wings. She sees the truth of things. It sounds like she works a little like I do.”
Zee nodded. He’d never met them. In fact, the only Nephilim who had was Nahum. “I guess we could ask them if Estelle needs help—if she’ll admit it!”
“She’s not a fool. She’ll ask if it will get all of you further along.”
“I like working with you, though.”
Alex laughed. “Thank you! We are glad to help, but they’re closer, and I think you can trust them, too. You need all hands on deck for this.”
Zee sat heavily on a bar stool. Everything seemed so big, with so many moving parts. He thought life might get less messy after Black Cronos, but it seemed even more complicated than ever. He felt like he was back on the battlefield, and could almost taste the dust and feel the sweat running down his face, and scent blood and death in the air. He took a deep breath to dispel it all. The images vanished, but it left him knowing something he’d rather not.
“We’re going to become Belial’s keepers, aren’t we?”
Alex nodded and sat down, too. “If you mean you’ll have to guard his shit forever? Yes.”
“Forever is a long time.”
“If you break up The Brotherhood, no one will know. You keep them in your big vault and forget about them. You think only of your future, which is for you to design as it pleases you. Like being here, for now.”
“I’ve got a lot going on in White Haven. That stupid pact with the dryads with Eli. My flat share, my job, my friendships. A shit-ton of money coming our way, too!”
“Always nice!”
New resolve filled Zee. “Yes, we build a huge, fuck-off vault spelled with everything, and sit on it like big Nephilim dragons. And we make sure we celebrate everything else. Like pregnancies and weddings.”
“Wedding! Just one!” Alex rolled his eyes. “That’s enough.”
“One for now!” Zee laughed, glad to change the subject. “Having fun with Reuben as his best man?”
“Fun is one word for it.” He swept his hands down to his old rock band t-shirt, jeans, and boots. “Do I look like a suit man?”
“You have to wear a suit? Wow. Which means Reuben is wearing a suit for the wedding? Wow,” he repeated, unable to imagine Reuben dressed in anything so formal.
“Of a sort.”
“But he wears board shorts all year round. Are you kidding?”
“No. So that means we have to start suit shopping.”
Zee, on the whole, had stayed out of the handfasting discussions, mostly because Reuben wanted to surprise their guests. He normally exhibited an air of insouciance, but lately that had been replaced with distraction, and endless list ticking on his phone notes. Of course, his surfing habit remained ever present.
“So,” Zee asked, now very curious, “this is going to be quite big, by the sound of it. I didn’t expect that.”
“Neither did El, nor Reuben, to be honest.” Alex smiled. “He’s determined to make this the best handfasting ever.”
“So, where are you shopping for a suit?”
“I have no idea! But who does wear a suit very well?”
“Newton? And Caspian!”
“Exactly. I mean, I wore one for Gil’s funeral, and so did Reu, but that’s a funeral! This is very different—and Reu has ideas!” Alex made air quotes. “So, because I’m the best man and I can’t duck out of these things, we four musketeers are going suit shopping. This fucking wedding is sprouting horns!”
“Oh! That’s priceless!” Zee started to laugh. “But Reu is happy, and so are the girls.”
“So happy.” He drained his half pint. “Avery is only a bridesmaid, and yet we are knee-deep in bridal magazines! Even Kendall is involved!”
“I confess that I have heard some flower chat.” Living with Kendall, it was inevitable. “But Kendall is being cagey.”
“Avery is not cagey enough for me!”
“You, mate, need a night at the farmhouse, killing stuff on video games. It will do wonders for your soul.”
“I might take you up on that.”
“How long to go? A month?”
“More or less. The longest month of my bloody life.”
“You love Reuben! You don’t mean that.”
Alex groaned. “No, I suppose I don’t. I’ll make him pay with my best man speech. I have many stories to share!”
Zee stood up. “Well, we better make sure most of this is under control before then, because I don’t intend that I or any of my brothers or Shadow will miss that wedding. I’ll phone Barak right now.”
Eight
“I just wish I’d bloody thought of that,” Estelle Faversham said, feeling cranky as she prepared a cup of coffee on Sunday morning. “Trust Alex to think of unveiling spells to use on the manifesto!”
“My love,” Barak said, standing behind her and nuzzling her neck, “he’s helping, and you should be grateful.”
“I am! And that’s even more annoying. I can’t believe I’m actually friends with them.”
“The dreaded ‘F’ word. Oh, no! You do know that you’re coming to the wedding, right? With me.”
“Yes.” She giggled as his lips moved along her neck. “It’s impossible to stay mad when you do that.”
“I know. I can do it more often.”
“Not in the kitchen!”
“No, not in the kitchen!” Lucien remonstrated from behind them.
Estelle turned around, laughing as she pushed Barak away. “Sorry. Barak is incorrigible.”
“You don’t normally complain.”
“We don’t normally have an audience.”
“I’m not watching like a peeping Tom,” Lucien said, horrified, as he headed to the cupboard to get a mug.
“I know! It’s just an expression.” Sometimes things got lost in translation.
Barak started to get food out of the fridge. “I was cheering her up, because one of our very good friends,” he shot her sideways look, “has come up with a brilliant suggestion for that manifesto.”
“Really?” Lucien was as frustrated with it as they were. “Like what?”
“Like a spell to unlock its secrets.” Estelle checked her phone—again. “He’s sending through some spells I can use on it. The only thing is, I might not have everything to hand here. Or it might be beyond my skill set. We may have to ask the Moonfell Witches for help—specifically, Odette.”
“But you cast a finding spell,” Lucien said. “Is that different?”
“Yes. The results were confusing.” She had cast it the previous night, and watched the smoke trail across Yorkshire, and then over Europe and into Italy. But then it diffused, pinpointing nowhere in particular, and leaving her very frustrated. She had tried several different variations with the same result. Perhaps the Fallen Angel’s presence had confused things, or maybe it indicated that several hands had designed it. Alex’s suggestion certainly sounded intriguing. “This could tell us so much more, but I’ve never cast such a spell before. If I damage the document, then I might not be able to use it again. Magic can be tricky.”
As she was talking, her phone buzzed with incoming messages, and she quickly scanned them. Alex was concise. He’d sent photos of the original spells and written transcripts.
“Have you got a printer here, Lucien?”
“In the study, upstairs. It’s new, like the PC. The Orphic Guild installed it.” He shrugged. “It’s a sort of backup office here.”
“Good. I need these printed off so I can study them better. Barak, will we be seeing Nahum today?”
“No. He’s taking Belial’s tokens to Cornwall with Olivia. Why?”
“In case I need the Moonfell witches. That’s okay. He can phone them and tell them who I am. I hate to cold call.” Estelle might be abrupt on occasions, but there were ways to do things, and rocking up on someone’s doorstep asking for magical help as a stranger was not the way to go.
Estelle didn’t often eat breakfast, so she left Barak and Lucien to it, and took her coffee upstairs to the book-lined study, filled with occult and arcane ephemera. She’d never met William Chadwick, but she had a sense of who he once was. Old-fashioned, obsessive, fastidious in his research, but chaotic in every other aspect of his life. He probably had his own, organised system that was confusing to everyone else. His occult collections in the series of rooms downstairs were meticulously displayed and organised, but here, in his inner sanctum, the place was a mess. Apparently, Mason Jacobs had started to organise the study, but hadn’t got very far. From the piles of books on the floor and notes in Lucien’s handwriting, it seemed that Lucien was keeping himself occupied by trying to organise the place.
After a few moments of fiddling with settings and Wi-Fi, she synced her phone to the printer and printed off the spells Alex had sent her. They were all long and complicated, and while she had the ingredients for one, she didn’t have them for the others, and the herbs required were unusual. There were plenty of witchcraft shops she could buy supplies from, but that would take time.
Alex had also suggested spells that would reveal hidden writing. A message within a message. One used fire, but the other was far more unusual. Hating herself for doing it, she called him. After exchanging pleasantries and her thanks, she said, “You suggested a spell using Nephilim blood? Where did you find that?”
“I didn’t. It was Avery’s idea.” Estelle rolled her eyes. Of course it bloody was. Alex continued, “She’s good at making new spells, and she thought seeing as Nephilim are the sons of angels, their blood might unlock some secrets. It might not do anything, of course, but well…”
She finished the sentence. “It’s worth trying.”
“I found hidden messages in one of my spells once, unveiled by fire, which is my element. It worked. It was a bit risky, but seeing as you’re dealing with Belial, they might have used the power in his jewellery to hide something. It’s just a thought.”
“It’s a good one, too,” she said. “It might even be why my finding spells aren’t successful.”
“But you should take all precautions. Set up a circle.” He hesitated. “I don’t like the idea of you doing that alone, Estelle. You’re powerful, but Belial is a Fallen Angel. Who knows what weird crap might be wrapped in that manifesto. Can Caspian help?”
She shook her head, though he couldn’t see her. “He’s tied up with the business.”
“We can’t help, either. We’re placing protection spells around a big hole in the farmhouse cellar today. A bunker for jewellery. Zee and Eli want to be prepared for anything.”
She laughed, and the thought of the farmhouse, and Alex’s Cornish accent, made her suddenly homesick. She had an urge to see the Cornish moors, and feel the cool air, and scent the sea. London was exciting, and travelling was fun, but it wasn’t home. She shrugged it off. She had a job to do. “A bunker? I guess it’s wise, all things considered.”
“It is, and you should be careful, too. Ask the Moonfell witches. Don’t do it alone.”
“It had already crossed my mind.”
They chatted for a few more minutes about ways to cast the spells, and potential issues, before ending the call. She walked over to the table where the manifesto was still laid out, and picked a page up, stroking the paper, and trying to discern what, if any, magic could be in it. The more she thought about it, the more foolish it seemed to presume that this was just a manifesto, despite the fact that it felt innocuous enough. The message aside, of course. The call of mad men to invoke more madness should not be taken lightly.
Their day was open so far. She would phone Nahum and get him to call Moonfell, and while he liaised with them, she could try a few spells, study Alex’s spells, and generally prepare herself.
“You,” she said, tapping the manifesto, “will tell us what we want to know, whether you like it or not!”
“Venice? How sure is he?” Gabe asked Harlan on the phone while he paced around the old attic in Amato’s house.
“Very sure. I’ve read his diaries about it. You know JD. He records everything. It’s worth pursuing.”
“I have no doubt about that. I’d chase anything right now.” Gabe gazed out of the dusty windows, not seeing the forest and overgrown grounds, but a palazzo in Venice that might contain secrets of The Consortium. The Brotherhood. “You have an address? A name?”
“The family is called Lamberti. I contacted Romola Flaco yesterday, a friend who works in our Rome office. I had asked her to investigate Amato’s house, so this morning I asked her to look into this place, too. But there’s a problem. The Lamberti family is rich and powerful—she knew the name straight away—and there’s no way that you can approach them directly. Romola will double check the Venetian house to make sure it still belongs to them, and that we are talking about the same family, but she strongly suspects it will be them. Apparently, they have used The Orphic Guild in the past. They like arcane objects.”
“That’s brilliant!” Ash looked over at Gabe’s excited tone. “But will that be an issue? I mean, might Romola warn them of what we want?”
“I damn well hope not! They’re a client, and they pay for our help for individual jobs, and then we move on. Unless Romola is on some kind of retainer. But she shouldn’t be, that’s not how we work.”
“Good. So how long will that take her?”
“A few hours, maybe? She said she’d call you directly. Is that okay? I gave her your number.”
“Sure. She doesn’t know what we are though, right? Either us or Shadow?” Gabe liked to keep the fact that they were paranormal beings as quiet as possible, despite that Romola worked for The Orphic Guild.
