Devil and the Deep (The Ceruleans: Book 4) (18 page)

‘What?’ said Luke and Jude simultaneously: Luke because he
knew well what the name Rafe meant to me, and Jude because he hadn’t a clue
what the name Rafe meant to me.

‘Rafe,’ I said. ‘Cerulean.’

Jude screwed up his face. ‘Don’t know him.’

‘Cerulean. Tall guy. Dark hair.
Serviam
tattoo on his
arm.’

‘That describes loads of Ceruleans, Scarlett.’

‘Why are you –?’ began Luke, but I ignored him.

‘Rafe,’ I said. ‘
Rafe.
Big. Built. Forty, maybe. Or
late thirties?’

Jude and Luke regarded me silently. I realised a hush had
fallen all around, and I looked over to see Si and Cara staring at me.

‘She means the blue angel,’ said Grannie helpfully. ‘He’s a
decent chap, you know. Such lovely warm hands.’

Cara gaped at her. ‘You know a blue angel, Grannie?’

‘Well, of course, dear,’ she said. ‘I knew him way back
when. He’s aged well – still a heartbreaker.’

A memory stirred – weeks ago, visiting Grannie at the home,
she’d spoken of another Cerulean, a young one, ‘as blue as Cinderella’s dress’.
What was it she’d said?

‘Peter didn’t like him, of course. Not a jot. Perhaps
that’s why the Cinderella boy left the village. Still, quite a kerfuffle he
caused when he did... taking her with him like that. For all that time she was
gone, Peter was beside himself. But then she came back...’

And at the cafe opening, I’d overheard Grannie talking to
Mum about
‘that chap of yours that Peter got all het up about’.
‘That’s
angels for you,’
she’d told Mum.
‘Flighty.’

Grannie was lucid. She had known Rafe ‘way back when’. And she’d
known that he and my grandfather had been at war. But why, when they were
fellow Ceruleans?

‘I don’t understand,’ Luke was saying. ‘Grannie, you
knew
this man?’

‘Yes, dear.’

‘But who is he?’

‘Elizabeth’s chap,’ she said. ‘The blue angel. Do keep up, pet.’

‘Will someone please tell me what’s going on?’ said Jude. ‘Who
is this Rafe?’

‘That’s what I’m asking you,’ I said.

‘Argh!’ He threw up his hands in frustration. ‘Look, it’s
been a long night – you’re all safe – whatever this is, surely it can wait until
–’

‘It can’t wait, Jude. Please, think: who is Rafe?’

‘I told you, I don’t know any Rafe!’

‘None?’

‘No.’

‘Do you know all the Ceruleans?’

‘Yes.’

‘All the ones on the island? All the ones at the school?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘And none of them are called Rafe?’

‘No.’

Cara spoke up: ‘What about Ralph? Or Raphael? Perhaps it’s a
shortened name.’

But Jude shook his head. ‘I don’t know the name. Scarlett,
what’s going on? You’re starting to weird me out.’

‘And me,’ said Luke. ‘What’s with the sudden obsession with
Rafe again?’

With all eyes on me, I took a deep breath and blurted it
out: ‘He was here. Tonight. It was Rafe who brought Grannie and me out of the
home and healed us.’

‘
Healed
you! You didn’t tell me –’

But Cara drowned out her brother: ‘Your FATHER saved you and
Grannie?’

‘Woah!’ said Jude, holding up a hand. ‘Your
what
?’

‘Scarlett’s mum had a relationship with some Cerulean called
Rafe,’ explained Cara. ‘Sienna and Scarlett were the result.’

‘What!’

Shocked didn’t even begin to describe Jude’s expression.

To my surprise it was Luke who took over next, explaining
the background carefully. Jude looked like a captured fish floundering on a
fishing jetty as he listened, and I began to wish I’d told him about Rafe from
the outset. But I’d agreed with Luke to let it go. And I had, at least
outwardly. I hadn’t gone looking for my father. But apparently he’d come
looking for me.

‘So what was it like?’ said Cara, leaning across Grannie to
get close to me. ‘Did you talk – what did he say – was it like a massive
reunion scene in a film – did you fall into each other’s arms – ooo, did he
cry?’

‘It was a moment, that’s all,’ I told her. ‘Then Michael
turned up and said Rafe should go, and he did.’

‘Wait!’ said Jude, and there was an edge in his voice that
made us all hush. ‘Did you say Michael told Rafe to go?’

I nodded, confused. Why was that a big deal?

Jude swore.

‘Young man!’ scolded Grannie, and he apologised at once.

‘What is it?’ I said. ‘Out with it, Jude.’

Grim-faced, he obeyed: ‘I don’t know this Rafe. You say he
has the tattoo and he’s a Cerulean. But he’s not one of us.’

He waited for the words to sink in.

‘I don’t understand,’ I said stupidly.

‘Me either,’ said Cara.

‘Totally lost,’ chimed in Grannie; then: ‘Oh look, there’s
Harold.’ Her cheery ‘Yoo hoo!’ drowned out the second curse of the minute, this
time from her grandson.

‘He’s not one of you,’ said Luke, ‘so he must be one of
them
.’

The word came at once to my lips:
‘Fallen
.
’

Lawless.

Merciless.

Godless.

‘It’s the only thing that makes sense,’ said Jude. ‘He’s a
Cerulean, but Outcast. That’s why I don’t know the name. Michael must have recognised
him as Fallen and told him to leave. I got Michael all wrong: he was trying to
protect Scarlett.’

I squeezed my eyes shut tight against the tsunami of emotion
fast rising up inside. To find my father – the innate need that awakened in me
– and then find out at once that he was
that
. Like my sister.

‘Sienna!’ My eyes flew open. ‘Then she knew – then she chose
him
.’

I saw that Jude had reached the same conclusion. Did Sienna
choosing to be with our father excuse her actions? I saw once more the old man
slumping to the ground, dead,
dead
, and my stomach twisted. No. There
was no redemption for what she’d done. For what Rafe must also have done…

‘So both your father and your sister are murderous psychos,’
said Cara. ‘That’s rough.’

‘But Rafe didn’t exactly act like a murderous psycho tonight,’
Si pointed out. ‘He saved Scarlett and Mrs Cavendish.’

At the sound of her name Grannie snapped out of a reverie
and said to no one in particular, ‘Well, hello!’

‘Hello,’ said Jude politely. Then, to me: ‘You’re
sure
the man tonight was the Rafe your mother knew – that he’s your father?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He called me “baby girl”.’ Ignoring Cara’s
delighted sigh at that revelation, I added, ‘And his name is Rafe.’

‘You know, dear,’ said Grannie Cavendish, tapping my arm, ‘I
didn’t like to say so earlier, in front of him, but it’s a little rude to call
your father that.’

We all turned to look at her. Her eyes were cornflower-blue
and crystal clear.

‘Er, yes,’ I said. ‘But I’m not exactly comfortable calling
him Dad.’

Grannie chuckled. ‘Well, I expect not, dear, after all this
time not seeing him. And I quite understand you must be angry with him. I can
only imagine how angry my Ryan would have been with me if we’d been estranged.
But really, you ought not to use slurs.’

I looked around at the others and read the same thought on
each face:
Bless her; she’s gone again.

‘Slurs, Grannie?’ asked Luke gently.

‘Rake,’ she said. ‘Rogue, scoundrel, rounder, cad, tramp. It’s
not kind to label people as such.’

Suddenly, the
Lady and the Tramp
singing made more
sense.

‘His name’s not Rake,’ Luke explained. ‘It’s Rafe.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ she said.

‘Yes, Grannie, it is,’ said Cara.

‘No, it
isn’t
,’ said the old lady, indignant now. She
threw the blanket off her shoulders and sat up tall and gave us a glimpse of
the formidable woman she’d been in her day.

‘I don’t know why you’d be calling him that,’ she said. ‘I
know that man. I knew him a long time ago. His name is most certainly not Rake
or Rafe or whatever it is you’ve come up with. He’s the blue angel, the one who
so enraged Peter. He’s Elizabeth’s beau, he’s Scarlett’s father, and his name
is
Gabriel
.’

Two little girls, playing in a meadow.

‘You be Mother, I’ll be Father,’ says my sister.

Her eyes are red and glowing.

‘I’ll be Mother, you be Father,’ I agree.

My eyes are green, they’re always green.

‘No, I have a better idea,’ says Sienna. ‘Mother’s weak –
let’s both be Father.’

‘No. No! I’m Mother!’

‘You’re not a mother – you’re too scared to be a mother –
you’re meant to be one of us.’

Her eyes are red and glowing.

My eyes are green, they’re always green.

But when I wipe the tears away, my hand is streaked with
blood.

*

Hush-a-bye Scarlett

On the tree top,

When the wind blows

The cradle will rock.

When the bough breaks,

The cradle will fall,

And down will fall baby

Cradle and all.

And down will fall baby

And

down

will

Fall

*

Scarlett, are you awake?

No.

Why are you here?

Sleeping.

But why here – on the island?

Away from people. Away from him.

Him?

Gabriel. Mr Fallen himself.

Gabriel. Your father. Tell me, now that you know, do you
forgive him?

For what?

For leaving you. For being what he is. For taking your
sister. For not taking you.

What does it matter?

What does it matter?

Oh go away.

*

Peter was in his counting house,

Counting out his money.

Alice was in the parlour,

Eating bread and honey.

Elizabeth was in the garden,

Hanging out the clothes,

When down came a blackbird

And pecked off her nose.

Elizabeth was at her memory wall,

Thinking of times so blue.

Sienna was where the Outcasts go,

Dreaming of murders new.

Scarlett was in the garden,

Gazing out to sea,

When up came the devil himself

And said, ‘Come, baby girl, Fall with me.’

When I woke the next day, my first awareness of my
surroundings was the clanking of old plumbing. It was a familiar sound, but not
entirely comforting. It wasn’t the sound of home – of the cottage, of Luke. And
I wanted the cottage, I wanted Luke, because…

My eyes flew open and I bolted upright with a shuddering
gasp.

‘What!’ Jude flew into the room through the connecting door,
scanning wildly for the threat.

But there was no threat.

‘It’s okay,’ I told him. ‘I just woke up and remembered.’

He sagged against the wardrobe. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m edgy.
But we’re safe here, you know that.’

Here
being the island. I’d wanted, more than
anything, to go home with Luke – to sleep away the rest of the wretched night
and wake up in his arms when the sun had chased away all the shadows. But I
could barely stand, I was so exhausted, and Luke and Jude had decided I
couldn’t be alone in the cottage in the state I was in – especially with the
leader of the Fallen promising to ‘see me soon’ – so I’d let Jude bring me back
to the sanctuary of my old bedroom.

Jude walked over to the bed and sat down on its edge and
peered at me. ‘You okay?’

‘Had better nights,’ I admitted.

‘You cried out a lot. I came in twice, but I couldn’t wake
you.’

I flushed, embarrassed, and apologised.

‘Nothing I haven’t seen before,’ he said quietly.

He was right. The night after I’d learned my sister was a
devoted follower of the Fallen, I’d been ripped apart by nightmares. In the
end, he’d climbed onto the bed and held me. But that was then – before I
returned to Luke. Now, there was a little more distance between us.

‘Seems I don’t cope well with discovering immediate family
members are…’ I couldn’t find the word. ‘… not good,’ I finished eventually.

‘I’m sorry, Scarlett. I had no idea about your father.’

‘
You
didn’t know.’

Jude was quick to follow my train of thought. ‘But
Evangeline did. I don’t know why she didn’t tell you.’

‘It’s obvious, isn’t it? She thought if I knew I’d meet him
and be convinced to come to his side, like my
idiot
sister.’

He winced.

‘
Still
, Jude?’

He knew what I meant: after everything, you still think of
her, miss her, love her.

‘I try not to,’ he said.

We were silent for a while, lost in our own pain. I tortured
myself by replaying the previous night’s tortuous conversation – until I hit a
snag.

‘Jude, you said that Michael recognised Gabriel as one of
the Fallen. How?’

‘By his scars. Didn’t you notice them?’

I had. On the boat, in the moonlight, I’d noticed
crisscrossing within his stubble. And last night, I’d seen that his tattoo was
bisected by a jagged line.

‘Yes, I noticed he’s scarred. But I didn’t exactly focus on
that. Scars are something to see past.’

‘Not when they represent sins.’

I gaped at him. ‘They’re
punishments
? Who the heck is
going around doling out scars for sinners?’

‘No one. It’s simple: you cross the line, use your light
when you shouldn’t, and you bleed. The more times you abuse the power, the more
scars you have.’

‘So Ceruleans have no scars, and the Fallen have plenty.
Jude, you never told me this.’

He didn’t reply. He stood up and turned around and pulled
off his t-shirt. And I saw, between his shoulder blades, a wide, thick slash of
scar tissue. Jude had bled.

Jude had bled?

And then I understood. Cara. He’d healed her when he knew he
was not meant to. And he’d hidden from us all the price he’d paid for that, the
brand of the sinner he now carried.

As he readjusted his shirt I got off the bed and went to
him. ‘You did a
good
thing that day,’ I told him. ‘She deserved to be
healed.’

‘But I bled, Scarlett. And it hurt. A lot. And now I have
that scar for life. Imagine ten more wounds – twenty – a hundred. Imagine what
kind of person you have to be to keep getting those scars.’

Before I could answer, he grabbed my arm and said urgently, ‘He’ll
come to you, Scarlett. Luke told me everything on the phone last night after
you were asleep. If he was on the boat, in the graveyard, at the home – he’s
been stalking you. He’ll come again. Gabriel wants you. He wants to get inside
your head, manipulate you, poison you, make you one of them.’

‘Hey!’ I shook off his hold. ‘Calm down, will you? And give
me some credit. I’m not going to skip off to join a gang of maniacs just because
long-lost Daddy crooks his finger.’

I expected a smile, but Jude’s frown only deepened. ‘Sienna
would have thought that too. She’s the stubbornest person I’ve ever met, and
she was so against them when we were together. I know she wasn’t lying when she
said she loved me, that she wanted to be with me.’

He began walking around the room as he talked, and the
faster he walked, the faster he talked, until I was struggling to keep up:

‘Something Daniel said got to her, and she went with them
and stayed with them. The Fallen have some kind of hold over her. I can’t work
out what it is – I’ve thought about it endlessly. But it sure as hell isn’t her
passion for murder. I don’t believe that. I know what she is now, I know what
she did. But there’s more to it than we saw that day. She can’t have gone from
being the girl I loved to that monster in the alley. She’s an actress. She
admitted as much in her diary, remember? Said she put on an act to the world,
but with me she was real. It’s not her. It’s
him
, I know it. Gabriel.
Who says he’ll see you soon.’

He collapsed onto the sofa by the window. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘That
was... torrential.’

I sat next to him. ‘Don’t be sorry. We should have talked
about this ages ago – about her and you and how you’re doing.’

‘Why? It doesn’t change anything. It’s all still a mess.’

‘Yeah, it is.’

He pulled at a loose thread on his jeans. I stared into
space, thinking.

Belatedly, I realised the significance of his earlier words.
‘Did you say you and
Luke
talked on the phone?’

‘Yes. At length. You know, he’s a decent guy.’

I smiled. ‘It hadn’t escaped my attention.’

Jude managed to smile back. He looked haunted, I thought,
but at least better than he had last night – the dark circles under his eyes
were gone, his skin had some colour and he was squeaky clean. The restorative
power of sleep and soap.

I looked down at myself. Pyjamas slung on hastily last
night. Skin grubby and grey. Hair limp and stinking.

‘I need to wash,’ I announced.

‘Bathroom’s just as you left it,’ said Jude. ‘There’s more
of that bubble bath stuff – Evangeline stocked you up.’

I looked around the room. It was just as I’d left it months
before. A clear message from Evangeline:
there’s a place for you here still
.

‘Speaking of Evangeline…’ I arched an eyebrow.

‘She knows you’re here, but not why,’ he said. ‘I didn’t
think it was my place to tell her that. She’s keen to see you when you’re
ready. Do you want me to come with you?’

‘Thanks, but no.’ I added grimly: ‘I can manage my family
myself –
whoever
they may be.’

A knock on the door made us jump.

In the time it took me to call ‘Who is it?’ Jude was on his
feet and halfway to the door. He really was on edge. But at the muffled reply ‘Estelle’
he stopped in his tracks.

‘Come in!’ I yelled.

The door opened and Estelle’s head appeared, peeking in.

‘Hey!’ she said. ‘Little birdie told me you were here.’

Jude rolled his eyes. ‘Adam has all the discretion of a
paparazzo.’

‘Come in,’ I repeated, patting the sofa beside me.

Two steps into the room she sniffed and wrinkled her nose. ‘What
is
that stink?’

‘Smoke,’ I said.

‘What!’

Jude had gone over to the connecting door to his room. ‘I’ll
leave you to it,’ he said. ‘But if you decide you want company with Evangeline,
just knock for me, Scarlett.’

I nodded and he closed the door behind him.      

‘What’s happened?’ demanded Estelle as she sank down next to
me.

So, somewhat wearily, I narrated the events of the past week
or so – since Estelle had come to the cottage for the girly chat. She listened
attentively, and other than her eyes getting steadily wider, she reserved her
reaction to the end.

‘Scheisse!’
she breathed.

‘Huh?’

‘German for… oh, never mind. Lady that I am, I’ll settle
for, “Golly gosh!” Scarlett, what will you do?’

‘Talk to Evangeline,’ I said. ‘Again. Though what hope I
have of getting the full truth from her I don’t know.’

‘I don’t know either. She holds back, that’s clear. Because
she’s all about protecting people. I mean, you can see why she didn’t tell you
that
Gabriel
was your father.’

‘I thought you were up in arms against Evangeline?’

Estelle shook her head. ‘I challenge her, it’s true. But I
have a lot of respect for her. We’ve been talking, and she’s taking me
seriously. I think she’s coming to see the old way can’t continue forever, and
we need to make changes.’

‘Wow!’ I said. I wanted to ask more, but now wasn’t the
time. ‘Estelle, I could do with getting on.’

‘Sure. I have to get back to the baby anyway – he’s cranky
today.’ She leaned over to hug me, and then thought better of it. ‘You
seriously stink,’ she said.

‘Thanks for that.’

She crossed the room, and then paused with her hand on the
doorknob and looked back at me. ‘Can I ask, about your father –’

‘Gabriel. I can’t think of him as “my father”.’

‘Right. Sorry. But after you talk to Evangeline, after you
go home, when he comes for you, what will you do?’

I glanced at the door to Jude’s room.
‘Gabriel wants you,’
he’d said.
‘He wants to get inside your head, manipulate you, poison
you, make you one of them.’

I gave Estelle my answer: ‘If he wants to talk, I’ll hear
him out.’