Fallen (22 page)

“
No
.” I shook my arms as I tried to scour the images from my brain. “And what the hell was that in there?” I said, hitting Gabriel on the arm. “Why the inappropriate make-out session?”

Leaning against the trunk of a tree, he took out a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and plucked one out, placing it between his lips. “They couldn’t know I was shielding you from all that bloodshed. You’re supposed to seem normal, Em, and it’d be a giant fuckin’ red flag if they knew you couldn’t handle it.” He flipped the lid on his lighter and struck the wheel, holding it up to the cigarette as he inhaled. He took a long puff as he put the lighter away, then blew smoke out of the side of his mouth. “Plus that shit’s like foreplay to them. If your eyes had been open, you’d have seen other couples doing much worse.”

“First of all,
eww
, and second of all, ‘normal?’ What part of that was
normal
?”

His mouth set into a hard line. “That’s normal for
us
. We’re killers, Emily, and guess what? That includes
you
. The sooner you get that into your head, the better off you’ll be.” 

Anger surged in me, and I shoved at his chest. “I am
not
a killer. I’m nothing like those monsters in there.”

His eyes flickered before his gaze dropped, and I realized what I’d said and how he took it. “Gabriel, I didn’t mean—”

“You’re such a hypocrite, you know that?” He flung his cigarette butt away and took a step forward, out of the tree’s shade and into the sliver of moonlight peeking through the clouds. “You eat meat. It’s exactly the same thing.”

My mouth flopped open as I stared at him. “No, it’s not! That’s cattle, not people.”

“To me, people
are
cattle.”

“You don’t mean that.” Even to me, it sounded weak. I mean, hell, why
wouldn’t
he mean it? He was one of them, after all. Had our friendship blinded me to what he was capable of?

He took another step toward me, his jaw working underneath his skin. “Do cows not feel pain? Do you not slaughter them and eat them?”

I snapped my mouth shut, glancing away. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because I’m not the one that has to kill them!”

He smirked. “That’s just a tad hypocritical, don’t you think? You’ll eat them as long you don’t have to kill them. As long as there’s no blood on your hands, then they’re clean, right?”

“
All right
, I admit it,” I said, throwing my hands up in defeat. “I’m a hypocrite. But that doesn’t change anything. I’m not going to start killing people.”

“It’s what you were
meant to do
. Do you think the lion feels guilty about eating the gazelle? No, it doesn’t, because that’s the natural order. It’s just the way things are.”

The way things are.
What a crock of shit.

“That’s the difference between animals and us—they don’t know what guilt is.
We
do. That’s what makes us civilized. That’s what makes us
human
.”

He grabbed my hand, his eyes pleading with me. “But you’re not. You’re
not
human, Emily.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to lose my humanity.” I yanked myself free from his grip and took off, running through the gardens at a speed he couldn’t keep up with, until his cries for me to stop faded away.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

EMILY

After aimlessly wandering for God-knew-how-long, I found myself in front of a pub. The chilly night air left my skin numb, and the glow from the windows had me stepping closer. People inside were merry—laughing as they drank beer with their friends, their movements and faces animated with every story told. 

I envied their oblivion. They had no knowledge of the supernatural creatures living in their city, just under their noses. No knowledge of the horror and depravity I’d witnessed tonight.

I didn’t know what made me walk inside. Maybe it was simply a desire to return to some semblance of normalcy, no matter how temporary or superficial. 

The bartender came over as I pulled out a stool and sat at the bar, resting his elbows on the polished wood in front of me. “What are you drinkin’, lass?” His warm smile and rich Scottish baritone had me smiling, despite my pissy attitude. 

I shook my head. “Nothing. I don’t have any money with me.” My clutch contained three things: my phone, a compact, and some lip gloss. Not exactly the ideal arsenal for storming off and finding my own way home.

He cocked a brow, his eyes flicking up and down me. “A bonny dress like that and you doona’ have any money?” He straightened his back and shook his head. “Something’s wrong with that picture, lass.”

My lips pursed. “I got into a fight with my…friend.”

He nodded, like he understood. “Boyfriend troubles, aye?”

“Not exactly.”
More like I-don’t-want-to-murder-people troubles.

“You want to talk about it?” He reached under the bar and pulled up a glass and a bottle of whiskey. 

I shook my head. “Not even a little bit.”

He laughed as he poured a healthy amount of amber liquid into the glass. “That bad, eh?” 

You have no idea…

He slid the glass toward me. “On the house.”

“Oh…thanks.” The smile I gave in return was abysmal, but it was all I could manage.

He shrugged.  “You seem to be having a rough go of it. A free drink’s the least I could do.”

Rough go of it
was an understatement. My entire life was in shambles. 

I lifted the glass and said, “Cheers,” before tipping it all back.

Gabriel’s number lit up my screen as my phone vibrated for the millionth time. Scowling, I shut off the ringer and stood. “Whoa.” The room tilted and I stumbled, the bartender’s arm snaking around my waist as he caught me. My vision blurred, his face coming in and out of focus. 

Why was everything so…? I shook my head, trying to clear it. 

He pressed me into him, my breasts and hips pushing against him as the scent of stale beer and aftershave assaulted me. 

I didn’t like being this close to him. I tried to push him away, but my arms didn’t want to work right. 

“Easy.” His voice was too close to my ear, and the way his hands lingered on my body made my skin crawl. “I think you’ve had a wee bit too much to drink tonight. Better get you home.”

“No, haven’t…” My tongue didn’t want to cooperate. I tried to think back to how much I’d had to drink, but the harder I tried to concentrate, the fuzzier everything became. 

Cold air hit me, pricking my arms and bare legs. How did we get outside? And where was he taking me? I didn’t recognize the alley we were headed down.

When we passed a dumpster, he pressed me against the side of a building. The rough brick dug into my skin and I whimpered. 

“
Shh
,” he whispered, glancing around us as he unbuckled his pants.

My cognizance increased with every passing second, as did the alarm bells going off inside my head.

He hiked my skirt up around my hips and tugged at my underwear. I fumbled with his hands, clumsily trying to deter him. “You don’t want to do that.” The words were slow as they left me but were also more pronounced, and less slurred.

He laughed. “I assure you, I do. Now hold still,” he growled, clutching my panties in his fist and tearing them off me. 

Anger swept through me, singeing my veins like fire. It tinted my vision with a soft red glow as I looked up at him. His face, twisted with horror, was the last thing I saw before everything went black.

Chapter Forty

GABRIEL

I shouldn’t have pushed Em. What was I thinking? Here she was, trapped in her own personal hell, torn between what she needed and what she wanted, and what had I done? I yelled at her until she cried and stormed off to God-knows-where. 

I am such a
dick.

Turning a corner, I followed the little red dot on my phone as I tracked Emily with the GPS on hers. I was close—only a few blocks away—and as I neared, I mentally prepared myself for the epic groveling I was about to do. 

My fingers ran through my hair, and in my little fit of self-loathing, I had the urge to start pulling chunks of it out. How long had she been gone? It seemed like hours—
days
, even—but it could’ve been thirty minutes for all I knew.

I paused, frowning at the dark alley ahead of me. Emily was down
here
? Did she ditch her phone or—

The heavy scent of copper blew past me in a cold gust of air. It was blood. Lots of it.

I took off down the narrow path, my feet pounding against the pavement as I jumped over empty crates littering the alley. I slowed as the grisly scene unfolded before me. 

Jesus Christ…

Remnants of a body were sprawled in front of a dumpster, too mangled to make heads or tails of it. Literally. Bloody pulp covered the ground and walls, and smeared handprints dotted the metal sides of the dumpster. 

I froze at the sound of whimpering. Was that…?

My head tilted as I took a tentative step, peering around the corner of the dumpster. Emily sat crouched in the little nook created by the dumpster and the wall, her head hung. 

She was a mess. Blood decorated her, covering her hands and arms. She had her knees tucked up against her chest as she shivered and squeezed herself tighter, like she was trying to fold in on herself. 

What the hell had happened here?

I slid off my jacket and held it out for her. “Em?”

She looked up at me with unfocused and bloodshot eyes, streaked with mascara tracks. Blood smeared her lips and chin. 

When she didn’t say anything, I slowly reached my hand out and placed it on her shoulder. A horrific, gut-wrenching wail escaped her as she flinched from my touch. 

My breath left me in a
whoosh
, and my legs gave out, dropping me to my knees. I couldn’t bear to see her like this. 

I pulled her to me, wrapping my jacket around her. “
Shh
, it’s okay.” Her distressed cries turned into sobbing as I stroked her hair and cradled her to my chest. “Everything’s okay.” I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince—her or myself.

The water rushed out of the faucet, quickly filling up the tub. I adjusted the temperature and found some bubble bath on the counter by the sink. Bubbles were good—they would afford Em some modesty.

She sat on the floor in front of the tub. Her eyes were open, but unseeing and unfocused. She’d retreated back into the daze she was in when I showed up. I didn’t know if that was better than her crying.

I approached her slowly, speaking softly. “Emily, I need to get you cleaned up, okay? I have to take your clothes off, so I’m going to touch you now.” 

She pushed my hand away, whimpering as her tears started up again. 

“Emily, it’s okay. It’s me, Gabriel. I’m not going to hurt you.” I unzipped her dress, and while she didn’t fight me this time, she did start to shiver.

“Can you stand? I need to take off your dress.” She didn’t say anything—didn’t even blink—just stared off into space. I picked her up off the floor and set her on her feet, seeing if she could stand without toppling over. She swayed a little at first, so I leaned her against the wall for support. 

I grabbed a towel from the rack next to the bathtub and slung it over my shoulder, then turned my head away as I slid her dress down. The bra came off next. I took the towel off my shoulder, holding it out so it blocked her naked body from my view, and wrapped it around her. 

Picking her up, I gently placed her and the towel in the bathtub. The water instantly soaked the towel, making it cling to her skin. I peeled it off and took it out of the tub, setting it on the tile floor. After turning off the faucet, I gathered the bubbles, trying to cover her naked body showing through the water. 

I grabbed a washcloth and a pitcher, then kneeled down in front of the tub. The blood came off easily, turning the water and the washcloth a light red. I rolled up my pant legs and climbed into the tub, sitting on the ledge behind her. I dunked the pitcher into the bathwater, filling it up, and tilted her head back, pouring the water down her hair. I was careful not to let it run down her face or get in her eyes, which were now clean of the mascara smudges. Lathering up the shampoo in my hands first, I washed her hair, slowly and gently. She closed her eyes as I worked. 

When she was clean, I put a fresh towel on the floor and sat her on it. She shivered as I wrapped a white terrycloth robe around her. I sat on the tile floor behind her, carefully brushing out her wet hair, then blow-drying it. Once she had clean clothes on, I tucked her into bed. She was asleep before I even turned out the light.

Muffled sounds woke me some time later. I squinted and lifted my head off the pillow, seeing Em restlessly shift in her sleep, the sheets tangled around her legs. Tears streamed down her temples. The salty smell and the citrusy scent of her fear mixed in the air, permeating the room.

I reached over and shook her. “Em? Wake up.”

Her eyes popped open as she jerked back. “Gabriel?”

“Yeah.” My voice was still thick with sleep as I rubbed my eyes. “You were having a bad dream.” Rolling onto my side, I propped my head up. “You want to talk about it?”

She looked away and wiped her tears, instead asking, “How’d you find me?”

“The GPS on your phone.”

She nodded slowly, her eyes focused on some unseen point. “I told him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen.”

My jaw clenched as I recalled the torn clump of lace on the asphalt that used to be her panties. “Did he…?”

She shook her head, her voice and face despondent. “I ripped out his throat before he had the chance.”

Damn. Way to go, Em. “And how do you feel about that?”

“I feel…good.” Her eyes lifted and met mine. “I’m happy he’s dead. Is that wrong?”

I pulled her to me, tucking her head under my chin. “No. He would’ve done much worse to you.”