Son of Secrets Read online

  ‘Do you know how it feels to be searching and hiding at the same time?’ he asked. ‘To hate your differences but also be excited by the possibilities they hold?’

  She nodded. He cocked his head to one side, the muscles in his jaw twitching.

  ‘I thought you would. That’s why I came into the shop and why I wanted to help you. When I saw you through the window earlier, your scar, I knew it would have a story. You didn’t deserve to lose out on love, Tara, but sometimes love isn’t enough…life takes over. I’ve been given a second chance, which is why I wanted to give you a fresh start, too. It’s time we take back control and go after what really matters. You in?’

  No brainwashing spell this time. He was just asking her for help, one desperate person to another, hoping she would trust him and not ask questions.

  ‘Yes, of course. I owe you…I guess. What do you want?’

  Zac didn’t blame her for being so hesitant and wary of him, but she’d trust him soon enough. He planned to tell her everything. He needed to hear himself say the words that he’d been forbidden to speak for so long.

  ‘I lost something special,’ he told her. ‘I need you to bring them back.’

  ‘Bring what back?’

  ‘My wings.’

  ‘SO, YOU’VE NOT seen her for three years, but you’ve been in love with her in every one of her lifetimes? I’m guessing you mean that in a figurative sense?’

  ‘No, I mean it literally.’

  Tara had been tattooing Zac’s back for twelve hours, and during that time he’d done nothing but speak about Ella, now and in her past lives, spanning two thousand years. He could see by the battling expressions on Tara’s face that she thought he was crazy, or possibly deluded, but he didn’t care. It was the first time he’d been able to speak freely of his past and his love for Ella, and it felt good. Tara understood all about unrequited love, to desire someone who would never love you back with the same intensity. So even though she was probably judging him, she kept her thoughts to herself.

  ‘Sorry. This may sting a little,’ she said, her face set in concentration as she focused on his back.

  ‘It’s fine.’

  After having him describe to her in detail exactly what he wanted, Tara had sketched ideas until they settled on an intricate design—large impressive wings arching over his shoulder blades with loose feathers floating down the tops of his arms. There was a mirror in front of him, and he watched her hard at work. With every feather she painted he felt himself return, as if he’d never been away.

  ‘What will you say to Ella when you see her?’ Tara asked.

  She was humouring him, but he continued anyway.

  ‘No idea. Problem is, I don’t know what she’s been up to during the last three years. We weren’t together that long before I left, so she probably moved on. I’ve loved her all my life, but I’ve only known her a very short time.’

  ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘It was never me she was meant to be with anyway. She should be with her fated love by now. Am I boring you? I apologise for my incessant talking. You’re a good listener.’

  Tara laughed. ‘No worries. I’ve worked in bars all my life. I’m used to people telling me their problems. So why couldn’t you get in touch with her over the last three years?’

  ‘I’ve not been around.’

  ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Dead.’

  Her eyes widened but she didn’t comment.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s four in the morning, you’ve not eaten since I came in and I’m forcing you to do this. Maybe I should come back tomorrow?’

  Tara switched off the hum of the needle and walked around to face him.

  ‘What you did back there,’ she said, pointing to the front of the shop. ‘When you asked me to cancel my appointments and I did. That hypnotic trick? You were a prick for doing that—out of order. But tattooing you in exchange for that magic you did on my scar? I’m happy to do that and I’m happy to listen. So stop being a whinging Pom with all your “sorrys” and tell me about Ella.’

  Zac gave her a half smile, and she nodded in return.

  ‘I’m scared, Tara. I think that’s what it is. Scared that I’ll find her and she won’t want me anymore.’

  She rolled her eyes and switched the machine back on.

  ‘You don’t strike me as a pussy, Zac. Toughen up. It doesn’t matter what Ella’s been up to. As long as she still loves you and understands why you’ve…been away…then I’m sure she’ll take you back. God has a plan, or so they say.’

  Zac snorted, a half laugh and a half sneer.

  ‘God is a fallacy. He was made up by man to keep the masses sated. There’s no God, Tara.’

  ‘OK. Well, fate then. Let fate decide. Surely you believe in that?’

  Zac laughed again.

  ‘I used to. Except fate and destiny, they aren’t beliefs; they aren’t something you choose to have faith in. They just are. They are the forces that push us forward and that hold us back. Destiny is the lazy man’s religion. When it comes to fate, you don’t have to do anything to make something happen. You don’t even have to pray. All you have to do is wait.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Tara said. ‘I’ve never liked the idea that life’s a haphazard series of events, not after I met Charlie and felt the pull between us. There has to be a point to everything. I’d started to lose my faith in fate until you walked in here this morning.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  She laughed, a small quiet chuckle that matched the delicacy of the flowers tattooed on her arms.

  ‘You looked more broken than I’ve ever been, but you healed me and not just physically. I can feel something growing inside me now that’s been gone a very long time. I don’t know what you did to me, but I feel stronger now, like good things are coming. Hope. That’s what it is. You’ve given me hope.’

  He smiled, the guilt from having brainwashed her and Ylva this morning slowly easing.

  ‘Tell me, Zac,’ she continued, ‘if you don’t believe in God and you don’t believe in fate, what do you believe in?’

  He looked down at his lap and was quiet for a long time. What did he believe in? When he finally looked up, he saw his blue eyes in the mirror shining as dark as the wings of a bowerbird. He blinked quickly.

  ‘I don’t believe in anything anymore. Somebody, a long time ago, said they believed in me. She called me a god, but I don’t think she believes in me anymore. I don’t even believe in myself. I no longer know what I am.’

  Tara put down her tattoo needle and walked to the back of the shop. She opened a cupboard, took out a box of bandages and numbing creams, then retrieved a large bottle of rum from the back.

  ‘Here.’ She handed it to Zac. ‘You’d be surprised how many big strong men like you need a bit of a pick-me-up in here. Drink it. You’re getting maudlin.’

  Zac took a swig, groaned, and then took another.

  ‘You’re right, Tara. I’ve been given a second chance. Call it a miracle or luck or magic, but whatever it is, I came back.’

  ‘Exactly! If fate or God can’t control you, maybe you’re like a glitch in The Matrix?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Like the film. The idea of life being as insubstantial as a computer game. That some people can see through the illusion and make their own way in life, control it as they see fit. Those that know don’t walk in the picture, they walk through it.’

  She was right. Zac stood alone now—no longer governed by the laws of anything or anyone. He was free.

  ‘Yes,’ he said under his breath. ‘I can do what I want now.’

  ‘Of course you can.’ Tara dabbed the excess ink off his arm and stepped back, admiring her work. ‘And you’re all done.’

  Zac stood up and rolled his shoulders. Walking slowly toward the full-length mirror, he turned to the side, marvelling at the way Tara had created each individual feather. Every single one was unique a
nd shaded in hues of blue, grey and black. He didn’t recognise the man before him. His long hair used to soften his features, but now he looked hard, angular and older. His jaw was stronger and more prominent, and his eyes, no longer framed by soft dark curls, shone with a determination that scared even him. He turned from side to side, studying the images on his back from every angle.

  ‘It’s a work of art.’

  Tara’s face beamed in response. ‘Lift up your arms,’ she said, holding a long mirror up behind him so he could see the full effect in the reflection before him. He did as he was told and gasped as the muscles in his back rippled and his wings transformed into those of a majestic angel taking flight—each feather splayed over the shoulder blades, cascading under his arms and across his rib cage.

  His eyes shone silver with gratitude. She had no idea what she’d returned to him.

  ‘Thank you. This is a masterpiece.’

  ‘It’s the least I could do. You gave me back my life,’ she said, touching her face. ‘I don’t think I could ever thank you enough, Zac.’

  ‘In that case, want to do me a little favour?’

  He rested his hand on her shoulder briefly and then left the room, returning a moment later with a pen and a scrap of paper. In his hand was one of the many flyers littering the coffee table at the front of the shop. This one listed London attractions on one side and a Tube map on the other. Zac ripped it in half and drew a circle on the map side as well as a strange ‘I’ symbol.

  ‘Are you familiar with a bar called Indigo in Camden?’ he asked her.

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t know anywhere in London that isn’t a five-minute walk from this crappy shop.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll give you directions. I would really appreciate it if you could deliver this tomorrow night to a man that works there.’ Zac handed her the piece of paper and folded his hand over hers. ‘Can you do that?’

  Tara nodded. He wasn’t forcing her this time, but she was still willing.

  ‘Who do I ask for?’

  ‘Gabriel. He also goes by the name of Gabe. He’s my only true friend. He’ll be at Indigo from nine o’clock in the evening, but you mustn’t show any fear or apprehension; this could be the difference between me getting help or getting killed.’

  ‘Killed? Look, I owe you, but I don’t want to get involved in anything dodgy. If this is about guns or drugs or…’

  ‘No, Tara, this is just about love and fate. That’s all.’

  ‘You promise it’s that straightforward? I just go to a bar and hand over a piece of paper?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But I think I may need to perform that hypnosis thing on you again before I leave to make sure you get it right. To make sure you are calm and don’t raise suspicion. Do you give me permission?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Thank you. Here,’ he said, reaching into his pocket and handing her a handful of crumpled bills. ‘Some of it is sterling and some of it is in euros. I hope it’s enough to pay for the tattoo.’

  Tara counted it, ironing out the scrunched-up notes on the tattoo bed, her mouth moving silently as she added it up.

  ‘This is way too much; it’s more than double what your wings cost.’

  ‘Keep it. I don’t need money,’ he said.

  She raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

  ‘Thanks. So, what are you up to now?’

  It was Zac’s turn to shrug.

  ‘Not a lot. I need to find a hotel room and get a phone so I can call you later and check how you got on at the bar. I should probably grab some dinner too,’ he said, looking at the clock on the wall. ‘Breakfast, not dinner. I can’t believe it’s nearly morning.’

  Tara pointed at the plastic bags on the floor filled with the food she’d bought earlier. Then she pointed at the bottle of rum on the counter.

  ‘I’m in no rush to go home. Keep me company and we’ll eat shit food and get drunk until the sun comes up. You can tell me more stories.’

  Zac grinned and sat up on the tattoo bed.

  ‘You’re not bored with me talking about Ella?’

  ‘Nope. Whoever this girl is, she’s one lucky lady. I hope you find her. You got any other stories about amazing women?’

  ‘Yes,’ Zac said, smiling as he thought of his mother. ‘I’ll tell you a tale about a beautiful enchantress who once ruled the world until an evil winged demon took away her son and left her for dead. But she never gave up searching for her boy.’

  ‘That sounds like an incredible story,’ Tara said.

  ‘It is, but I don’t know the ending yet. I’m hoping it’s a happy one.’

  IT WAS EVENING and everything in the room was bathed in a pale pink glow. Sebastian had no idea where he was, yet again, and he was quickly tiring of waking up in unfamiliar surroundings. The room was round, and he was lying on a bed draped with brightly coloured scarves. The walls and ceiling were made of cream canvas with wooden poles holding up the sides, and it tapered into a point in its centre. Fairy lights were strung around its beams, and there were old Moroccan rugs on the sandy floor. The air was hot and dry, but there were no windows or fans in the room.

  He’d been dying in the desert, but someone had rescued him. A woman. Had she brought him here?

  He sat up and tentatively touched his face, relieved to find that his hands now worked and his face was no longer bloody or swollen. There was a thick metallic taste in his mouth and pictures flashed before him; long dark hair, the clinking of glass beads and blood…lots of blood running from a gaping wound and down a woman’s breasts. Blood in his mouth, a thick, cloying warmth as it trickled down his throat. The sickly stickiness of it as it smeared over his cheeks and dried on his chin. Had it been a dream? A nightmare?

  There was a faint sound of rhythmic sighing and, through the gauze of the mosquito net surrounding him, he could see the blurred shape of another bed in the room. He parted the net and slowly stood, aware he was clothed in unfamiliar cotton yoga trousers and a loose top.

  Crossing the room he saw her, the woman from his visions. She was propped up on a mountain of brightly coloured silk cushions on a large bed. Her breasts were uncovered, and around her neck she wore the dozens of glass beads he’d remembered. Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, and her head was thrown back, eyes closed, throat exposed as if waiting for the blade of a knife. He couldn’t see any sign of where the bleeding wound had been. Sebastian followed the contours of her body down to her long pleated skirt adorned with tiny mirrors along the hem. She was grasping at something beneath the fabric. It was a head, the shaven head of a naked young woman whose hungry groans were getting faster and faster as the dark-haired woman pushed her face deeper between her legs.

  Sebastian padded silently across the room until he was beside the bed, scared of interrupting them, the familiar warmth of arousal creeping upon him. He shouldn’t be there; it was wrong to watch. He didn’t know these women, and he had no idea where he was.

  ‘Come closer.’

  The bare-chested woman was looking at him with eyes half closed in sleepy euphoria. Her hips writhed as she moaned; her eyes locked onto his.

  ‘I need to talk to you,’ she said. ‘I won’t be long.’

  She pushed the woman’s head down harder, allowing the girl’s hands to slide up her torso to her breasts, her eyes still focused on Sebastian’s as he walked toward the bed. He couldn’t take his eyes off the two women. Was she expecting him to do something? Join in? He could feel himself stiffen now that he was beside them; he didn’t want them to stop. The woman’s breathing was getting faster now, and the girl removed her hands from the woman’s chest and returned them beneath her skirt. The dark-haired woman gave Sebastian a slow smile and opened her mouth slightly, running her tongue along her lips. Suddenly, she threw back her head and a low cry of ecstasy coursed through her body, hips bucking and fingers entangling in her own thick curls. She laid back on the bed and laughed, reaching out to stroke the side of Sebastian’s leg.

>   The girl emerged, her pupils black with passion and her lips glistening wet. She didn’t acknowledge Sebastian, as if having a stranger watch them was nothing unusual. She wiped her face on the woman’s long skirt and climbed up her lover’s body, kissing and licking her breasts until she reached her mouth, but the dark-haired woman shook her head.

  ‘That will be enough for today.’

  The girl picked up a long dress from the floor, slipped it over her head and nodded at the woman on the bed.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, exiting through a curtain in the side of the tent. A shaft of sunlight temporarily illuminated the room, and then Sebastian and the woman were once again plunged in the semi-glow of evening.

  ‘Sit down,’ she said to him, straightening her skirt and plumping the cushions up beside her. ‘We have already met. Do you remember me?’

  He nodded but didn’t move.

  ‘I presume you are wondering where you are and why you are here?’

  He nodded again.

  ‘Then stop standing there like a mute idiot and sit down. I won’t ask again.’

  ‘I’m sorry if I disturbed you and your girlfriend,’ he answered, sitting beside her.

  She gave a small laugh. ‘She isn’t my girlfriend. I don’t even know her name. Did you like her?’

  Sebastian nodded.

  ‘And do you like me?’

  Sebastian nodded again. She ran her hand up his leg and let it rest on his groin, raising her eyebrows at his obvious excitement.

  ‘I saved your life, you know. You’ve been asleep for three days.’

  He attempted to piece together the fragments of memory that were slowly returning. Had he really drunk this woman’s blood? He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. Fear and uncertainty battled with the delicious heat emanating from her touch.

  ‘How did you rescue me?’

  ‘I have my ways,’ she said, smiling and gently squeezing him. ‘So, now that you are no longer dying, you have to do something for me.’

  ‘What?’

  The woman was beautiful, although at least fifteen years older than any of the schoolgirls he normally desired.