Abigail

Abigail struggled to keep up with Ramiel and Elias. More than once she stumbled into the path of the honking taxis and twice now she had lost sight Ramiel and Elias altogether in the crowded, makeshift market that sprawled through the city's narrow streets.

"Here!" Elias called out, before during into a side street on his left.

Abigail glanced back at Harold, who trailed even further back than she did. This neighbourhood was built into the side of a steep hill, her legs burned as she hurried up the crumbling footpaths. Harold war struggling with the pace. His face was crimson and each breath a desperate, obviously painful stutter. At least she hadn't lost him too. She made liberal use of her elbows to backtrack through the crowd, took Harold's arm and pulled him along until she found the narrow lane Elias and Ramiel had taken.

A puddle of stale water stretched across the middle of the narrow, dark space. Three and four-storey buildings guarded both sides, but what few windows looked out onto the lane were covered with black plastic. The lane stank of something Abigail couldn't identify. Elias and Ramiel were nonplussed, however. Elias paced up and down the lane, then pointed to a door.

Ramiel, who looked ready for a fight, motioned for the nephilim to move back.

"Shouldn't we knock first?" Harold forced out the words between gasping breaths. "We don't know who's on the other side."

Elias turned his gaze towards Abigail and Harold, but to Abigail's dismay, it seemed like he was looking through them rather than at them as if he couldn't focus his eyes to the right position.

"Go on then," Elias shrugged.

No response came to Harold's knock for a good minute, then the lock clicked open and they heard a familiar, juvenile voice.

"Sorry, dad. Misha didn't want to let me go," Kiara said.

By the time Abigail processed what they had heard, Ramiel had already pushed the door open and grabbed the girl by the shoulder. Abigail frantically glanced around, then sprinted towards the door. Although the lane seemed empty at this moment, this could change at any time; they didn't want to make a scene.

On the other side of the door was a steep and narrow stairway.

"Who's here with you?" Ramiel demanded.

Kiara peered up at Ramiel and sighed. "You don't need to leave bruises all over me, I'm not going too far, am I? It's just me and my sister here."

Ramiel pushed the girl up the stairs until they reached the first-floor landing, where the door stood ajar. Kiara had propped it open with an old sneaker.

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"Where is your father? And Jala?"

"Working I suppose."

Ramiel snorted. "Any of their friends about?"

"Why?" Kiara's tone sharpened. "You miss your old pals?"

Elias slipped past Ramiel and Kiara into the apartment itself; Abigail was only a step behind. Every light was lit and the scent of something resembling eucalyptus permeated the air. Abigail had expected a musty place with a blood-stained carpet and a cockroach infestation. She found no evidence of either blood or cockroaches. The apartment was in need of a coat of fresh paint, but you couldn't accuse Najran and his family of living in a hovel.

"She's in the main bedroom," Kiara choked out as Ramiel shoved her over the threshold of the apartment with far more force than necessary.

Elias found the right room at once — the apartment was hardly big enough to be lost in — but he didn't enter. "What's wrong with her? This whole place... It's like everything is coiling onto itself."

For a long moment, Abigail tried to make sense of her brother's words, yet clarity never came. She shook her head and peered into the room. Misha wasn't on the wide bed that dominated the space. She was curled in the corner by the window, her skin paper-white and eyes bloodshot. Nothing suggested that she realised any of them were present. Staring at empty space, she seemed to be trying to say something, but the words wouldn't come out.

Ramiel threw Kiara onto the bed and bent down to examine Misha, "She over-reached and must have made an error in her last ritual. It has been left incomplete, so it is leeching energy she does not have."

"Can you make her better?" Kiara blurted out, speaking so quickly her words were barely comprehensible.

Abigail had to sympathise, her stomach twisted into knots with every glance at Elias' grey-tinted skin and trembling hands. That ritual had been a trial. Whatever Misha had done had been much worse.

"Why would I? It's your father's and your sister's foolishness that created this."

Kiara made a face and muttered something under her breath, then said, "I know where the anchor is."

"Where would that be?" Elias asked.

"Beneath us." Seeing the surprise in their expressions, Kiara laughed. "Heal her and I'll show you the entrance to the anchor. Misha mightn't look like much now, but she knows how to make a ritual work."

Harold wiped away the sweat dripping down his brow and cleared his throat. "I don't think this is wise. If she truly knows something —"

"They're just kids," Abigail said. "What are you suggesting? Waterboarding?"

"You said it, not me."

Ramiel sighed. "If Najran knows the location of the anchor, we do not have the luxury of debate at this moment. Nor does she." He motioned towards Misha. "How many days has she been like this?"

"This is the third," Kiara replied.

"I will do what I can for her," Ramiel said. "After that, you will lead Abigail and me to the location of the entrance. Harold and Elias will guard your sister. If either you or your sister try to escape, we will use every means we have to contain you. Is that clear to you?"

"Yes," Kiara said.

"Why are you taking Abigail and leaving me behind?" Elias asked.

A silence fell over the room. Ramiel was already focused on Misha and Harold evidently had no desire to become involved in a dispute between the two siblings. Elias did his best to glare at everyone present, but his unsteady gaze failed to convey the intensity he seemed to be aiming for.

Abigail swallowed the urge to utter the first words that raced through her mind at that moment, then said, "I wish there was a mirror here so you could see yourself. The girl talking to herself over there? You aren't far behind her."

"Thanks, sis," Elias replied. "What about Harold?"

"It is unwise to leave any man alone with a prisoner," Ramiel said. "Nor am I certain Harold will be able to keep pace with us."

Harold fiddled with his walking stick. "Quite right. And I've never done well at altitudes. We shall await your return."