The answer, of course, was that I was eminently unqualified. I had no experience, no clues, had a history of acting rashly, on top of being sheltered by some industrial strength privilege all my life. But what came down the bond was something scary and potent—hope. I had to hope I could make a positive change to try.
“Ready, Kira?” Soraya said.
I looked up and nodded. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 22
“I’m coming,” Mark said, pulling guns out from goddess knew where and checking them. “She needs a security detail.”
Soraya’s eyebrow cocked upwards, but she just looked at me. “Fine by me, but descending upon a chapter with the whole posse would be unwise.”
I turned around and saw Marlow and Johnno taking steps forward, obviously wanting to come.
“I’ll be all right, guys. Mark can look after me.”
Marlow came over, brushing my hair away from my face.
“You did very well in there.” I snorted at that. “Go. It’ll give me time to convince Aragide that you really need only the clothes I want you to wear.”
“Don’t you freaking—”
His mouth silenced mine, giving me a slow kiss, and then he smiled when I just looked at him dazed.
“Good luck. Stay safe. Don’t make things difficult for Mark. It’s very important to him that you are OK.” I nodded. I didn’t deliberately get into trouble, but it did find me. “Come by my room when you get back. I’ve got something to show you.”
“Now, I can take you to the door of the Melbourne chapter. I just can’t get you inside. They have to let you in,” Soraya said as she opened a rift in reality. I peered through and saw a late afternoon city street through it. “C’mon, let’s see if they’re amenable.”
Mark took my hand, helping me through the portal like a gentleman, until all three of us stood on a windy street. Broad leaves scuttled across the pavement, brown from autumn, the air having that Melbourne chill to it. The streetlights had been put on, and the sky was a pale grey.
“Here,” she said, leading us up to a tall building.
It was stunningly beautiful, floor after floor of Gothic frippery on the façade. With soaring arched windows and ornate frames, beautifully sculpted medallions punctuating the walls, your eye was drawn and kept on looking. It was so detailed, it was hard to know what to focus on. Soraya ignored that, marching up to the front door. Painted in federation green, it looked too ordinary to be a part of this place, but she leaned over and pressed the doorbell button.
“Ow!” she said, jerking her fingers back. “Now you. It’s got a bit of a bite, their security system, but you won’t be admitted until you’ve been scanned.”
I moved up, cautiously eyeing the doorbell, and then reached out and touched it.
Zap! It was like touching a live wire or something as a pulse radiated up my arm and through my whole body, making me want to pull away but not being able to. I didn’t get control of my body until it decided I could, my hand finally jerking away, still stinging.
“Jesus!” I hissed, cradling my hand, but when I watched Mark amble up, he pressed it, then looked at us confused.
“Humans,” Soraya said with a shake of her head. “Don’t get scanned in the way we do.”
“And now?” he asked.
“We wait.”
We lounged inside the little alcove created out the front of the building, a veranda of arches on the ground floor, the floor a beautiful tessellation of burgundy, cream, and hunter green. That was until the door opened. A formidable woman with deep brown skin and long wavy hair shot through with grey appeared in the doorway, casting an angry eye over the three of us.
“You arrive unannounced, Soraya?” she said.
“I’ve tried to make contact, Ruby, but you’re not replying to anyone’s messages.”
“Ever thought that was deliberate?” The two women stared at each other until Ruby shook her head and stepped back from the door. “You better come in then.”
Inside, the place was just as intense. Picture rails and ceiling roses, painted panels and decorative features so thick and plentiful, it was hard to take it all in. We didn’t get much of a chance to. Ruby fixed us in her gaze, looking from me to Mark.
“So the avatar and her pet sentinel.”
“Kira and Mark,” I corrected her.
“And that’s not all, is it? Are you going to introduce me to your little interloper?”
Ruby stared at me, beyond me, to what lay beneath. Lilith rose, like a dog to its master, my eyes going dark.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Greetings to you, dark one.”
“And to you, Mother.”
“Not Mother here. Don’t stand for that nonsense. You’re here for your grandmother?” I nodded, feeling Lilith seep away. Ruby had obviously expected this, expected Lilith, but I couldn’t work out how. I glanced sideways at Mark, who looked equally perturbed. “Took you long enough. Come up. I’ll show you to her room.”
We piled into the elevator, an incredibly uncomfortable experience. It was beautifully finished in copper and steel inlay and seemed to work perfectly fine, but being jammed into a small space? Seriously awkward. Ruby didn’t stop frowning, even when we got off on floor three.
The building was just stunning here, door after door on either side, ornate hanging light fittings and a rich red carpet with intricate patterns spread before us. Ruby marched up to one of the doors, rapping on its surface.
“Nance, you’ve got visitors.”
My gut roiled as I waited for Nan to respond, the light coming from the huge window at the end of the hall feeling like it was much too bright. I frowned, squinting against it, against the fear rising inside me. So many memories surged up, of Nan taking me for walks in the bush, of tramping through the fields, looking for toadstools and herbs for her concoctions. Of drawing that bloody shape in the sand, in the dirt, over and over, until I was told to stop. Of all her crazy stories that just seemed low-key now. I’d loved her, my grandmother. That became uncomfortable as I grew older, her mental illness much more apparent until she was just my fate writ clear. But still… I rubbed at my chest, feeling that ache of feeling I’d had for her and wondering if I’d keep it.
I got my answer soon enough.
The door opened, and there she was, face soft with wrinkles, eyes sparkling bright, hair in a gentle halo around her head. She wore flannel pyjamas and a heavy robe over the top of them, belted tight, and she smiled, something that stabbed straight into my heart. None of what I’d felt had gone anywhere at all.
“Hello, love.”
It all rushed up as I moved closer, taking what I realised now was a fragile body into my arms and hugging her close, smelling the sage and lavender and tea on her. That sharp, sweet feeling of family. Of the familiar, of the connection born from spending a life together. Memories, so many memories, both good and bad, smashed into me, but overwhelmingly it was this—Nan, a short word that conjured so fucking much, I couldn’t articulate half of it.
“There, there, sweetheart,” she said. “It’s all right. Everything’s all right.”