Gabriel (23 page)

“The Lord?” I interrupted.

“We're only here two more days. I'm not going to start educating them now. You'll all just go along with their beliefs and tell them nothing, understand?” Gabriel scanned the room. Jonah was the only person shaking his head in contempt.

“Iona recognized you,” I said. “Have you met her before?”

“They were there in Creigiau the night you found Jonah. I saw her, that's all,” he answered.

I scratched behind my ears. “I don't remember seeing them.” I stopped midsentence, as the reason for their presence suddenly dawned on me. “They were there, seeking me out, weren't they?”

Gabriel paced over to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Yes. Most of them were killed by Eligio's clan that evening—including Fergal's, Iona's, and Phelan's fathers, who were both reverends of the church. Fergal has assumed leadership by all accounts.”

I bowed my head. Nearly all their family and friends had met their ends as a result of their mission to find and save me. Their deaths spilled yet more blood on my hands.

Ruadhan coughed, gesturing out the glass French doors. “The small blond one's on his way over.”

Brooke bounced up, speeding to the door. “Fergal. He'll be wanting to see me,” she said, a little too happily.

Jonah seemed perplexed by Brooke's enthusiasm. Stubbing out his cigarette, he marched after her. “You're not spending any more time with them. I don't care who they think you are—it's dangerous.”

Brooke's eyes flashed red in reply. “I'll do what I like.”

“They won't harm us, and they wouldn't dare harm Brooke, Jonah,” Ruadhan said. “They are doing the Lord's work, so let them be helpful and feel that they have at least in part fulfilled the task they were given.”

“They're all light souls. That's good.” I tried to add a positive note to the conversation.

“Aye, love. But mortals' souls shift, from light to dark and vice versa. It can take time for a light soul to become tainted and turn dark, but just one ill action—one bad decision—can be the catalyst for an instant change. All the more reason for people to live their lives as gracefully as possible, every single day.” Ruadhan never missed an opportunity to inject his moral teachings into a conversation.

Brooke brushed past Ruadhan, opened the door, and ran over to meet Fergal as he approached.

“What the hell is she doing?” Jonah roared, striding through the doors and watching Brooke's movements from the patio.

I followed him. “Leave her be, Jonah.” I tried to pull him back by his arm, but he shrugged me off easily. I lost my balance and I landed on my backside, grazing my arm on the paving slabs. Jonah looked down on the ground and shook his head in surprise.

Gabriel was beside me within a split second, helping me to my feet, and then he turned to Jonah.

“Leave it, please. Give me a minute with him,” I said.

Gabriel remained still, his hands curling into balls, and I was startled as a darkness stretched from his mind to mine.

Please, Gabriel.

I spoke my thoughts to him but it caused a pang of pain in my temple. He turned back to me and took a moment to consider my request. He placed the lightest of kisses on my forehead and left me alone with Jonah, but not before flashing him a look of warning.

I marched over to Jonah, but he wouldn't meet my gaze. He was now staring intently at the Irish lads who were rattling around in the caravan, removing crossbows and rifles.

“Jonah.” He wet his lips and cracked his jaw from side to side, but said nothing. I tried again. “Jonah, I wish—” I stopped.

Finally he peered down at me, and as the cold morning breeze chilled me, his vanilla aroma tickled my senses. I much preferred the way he used to smell. “You wish for what?” His voice was hard.

“It doesn't matter.”

“I didn't mean to knock you down. I'm sorry,” he murmured. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “I shouldn't be able to knock
you
down, and Gabriel knows that, too.”

I was quick to argue back. “It was my fault. I tripped. I'm still getting used to, well, being this way.” I was aware that Gabriel might well be able to hear what I was saying, and I wasn't about to admit anything to Jonah.

He rolled his eyes and took my wrist. Carefully, he elevated my arm in the air and bent it in toward me, drawing my attention to my elbow. My skin was cut and a trickle of blood was clotting across the scrape. At first I was shocked; there was no way I should be injured so easily, and the damage should not have stayed on my skin for more than a few seconds even if I were.

Jonah made no attempt to say anything, and I swiftly conceded that he no longer cared. Perhaps he was beyond wasting any words—or breath—on me.

But then, finding my eyes and capturing my gaze, he said quietly, “If you're all kinds of shades of gray, then you need the dark as much as you need the light. You have to stop fighting it.”

I didn't just listen. I heard him, and I knew he was right. I was a finely balanced mixture of light and dark. Without both, I could not exist.

 

TWENTY

G
ABRIEL WAS ON HIS
phone making arrangements for the next evening when I reentered the house. He'd been staring at me intently through the glass doors, watching my every move. I started to head for my bedroom, then tiptoed down the hallway, checking over my shoulder to make sure he was no longer spying on me, and made for the front door. Before I had a chance to leave, Ruadhan's hand was on my back.

“Where are you off to, love?” he asked.

I sighed but held my hand firmly on the doorknob. “I'm only popping out. I want to test my abilities, but I'd prefer to do it alone. You understand.”

Ruadhan's palm flattened against the door. “You know you can't be by yourself.”

I was running on fumes. Perhaps it wasn't safe to go out alone. Still, I wanted my privacy so I said, “They don't know where I am.”

Ruadhan frowned. “No, they don't. But still, it's not safe. Gabriel said the sun did what it needed to do; he said you don't need to drink blood.” He eyed me speculatively. “Is that correct?”

Ruadhan wasn't convinced that Gabriel was right. He was accurate, of course, but I needed to figure this out in private—free from anyone with an agenda of any kind. I was wasting time fighting with myself when I should have been working out how to fight my enemies.

I nodded and gave an encouraging smile. “Yes, it is. I'm fine.”

“There's plenty of land around the back of the property. Perhaps we can go together?”

Past experience had taught me how hard it was to win a fight with any of these beings, so I tried a different tactic. “No. Actually, I think I might go and check that Brooke is okay. I can practice later.”

As I made my way back down the marble hallway, I was cut off at the pass—this time by Gabriel.

Hurrying off his phone, he stuffed it into his back pocket. “Lai, I don't want you down there by the Irish on your own.”

Could a girl not get some alone time?

“Then come with me,” I suggested.

Gabriel hesitated, thinking carefully before he spoke. “The Sealgaire were sent to find and save the girl, Lailah. They were tasked by an Angel. An Angel called Aingeal.”

I froze. Of course, Fergal would have told Gabriel, and now he was searching my expression seeking some form of confirmation to his rising suspicions.

“I know,” I said finally.

“That's why you didn't return immediately? You were seeking answers?”

I didn't reply but bowed my head.

“If they know where she is, they aren't saying. And Lailah, even if they did, it would be too dangerous.”

“I understand.” There was no point arguing with Gabriel, so I didn't try. “I'm sorry for causing you worry.”

I reached for Gabriel's hand, and he cleared his throat. “They can't know we're
together
. They wouldn't understand an Angel and a demon, reformed or otherwise. And your name is Brooke.”

“Right,” I said. As my arm fell back down to my side, Gabriel gave my hand a small, apologetic squeeze. “Gabriel?”

“Yes,” he said, following me.

“Phelan, the older lad, I don't trust him. Light soul or not, he's not the friendliest. If you're watching them, I would suggest that he's the one to keep an eye on.” I wasn't keen on Phelan; he made me uncomfortable, plus he had recently thrown a silver net over me and I hadn't quite forgiven that, regardless of his misguided reasons for doing so.

“Fergal told me that Phelan was the one who attacked you. He's lucky he's still breathing. He won't get near you, I promise.”

As Gabriel's words left his lips, they were laced with a jagged edge, and the hairs on my arm stood on end. I put it down to Gabriel being overly protective. Later I would come to wish that I had paid more attention.

Outside the door to the motor home, the smell of cooked food floated through the air from the open windows. Riley and Dylan were strolling across the grass toward the house, silver chains in one hand, guns in the other, and they nodded at Gabriel as they passed us by.

Gabriel knocked twice, and the door swung open. Phelan stood on the other side, leaning his elbow against the wall, his hand behind his head.

“May we come in?” Gabriel asked politely.

Phelan's vest rode up his torso as he stretched, revealing jeans that hit below his cut lines. As usual his beanie hat covered his head. Funny how he seemed to think it was cold enough to wear a wool hat but not a sweater. His brown eyes narrowed as he considered me, but finally he stepped back and invited us both inside.

Always chivalrous, Gabriel guided me in first, and I sidestepped Phelan as I entered the motor home.

Iona was in the kitchen. Her long blond hair swished about as she juggled multiple frying pans and toasted bread, stopping only to fill up jugs with orange juice. Some of the lads were strewn across the sofas, with plates full of food balanced in their greedy hands, and Brooke and Fergal were snuggled up in the corner. I raised my eyebrows, and Brooke—startled by our arrival—gently shifted from under Fergal's arm.

“Gabriel!” Iona skipped from the kitchen, her flouncy shift skirt swaying around her legs as she fell over herself to greet him.

Gabriel smiled. “Iona.”

It was hard to miss Iona's blush. Her gaze finally fell on me, and she strained a cautious smile. “Brooke. I'm … we're very sorry about what happened. We didn't know who you were, that the Lord had granted you redemption.”

This wasn't an easy situation, and all eyes were on me. Yes, I was standing next to an Angel, but this group was used to exterminating demons, and that's exactly what they thought I was. To be fair, they weren't completely misinformed.

“No, I'm sorry. I should have explained myself sooner. I wasn't entirely sure you would understand.”

“As I've said to you all,” Gabriel began, addressing the room, “the few Vampires I travel with are not the same as the rest. They have rejected the Devil and now revere the Lord. I'd appreciate it if, for the short time we are in one another's company, you respect that fact.”

Fergal nodded, less interested in what Gabriel was saying and far more rapt with Brooke, whom he was now sneakily tickling underneath her top.

But Iona was hanging on Gabriel's every word with a look of pure wonder.

Phelan said, “Never known a Vampire who could speak before. But then, we're used to slaughtering you before you get the chance, like.”

I exchanged an I-told-you-so glance with Gabriel just as the smoke alarm began to screech.

“Oh no!” Iona ran back into the kitchen, where smoke was billowing from the toaster as the bread burned. Iona tried to release the toast while jumping up and down in the air to clear the smoke below the alarm. The lads in the living room didn't move an inch.

Iona was struggling to stop the siren, and Gabriel stepped in to assist her. He took the tea towel from her fingers and Iona stared up at him as he stretched, waving it in the air and finally pressing his finger to the small red button.

Overheating grease from the sausage pan drew Iona's attention, and she took the frying pan off the stove. A sizzle of oil splattered on her skin and she recoiled, clutching her hand.

Without a second thought, Gabriel wrapped the tea towel around the small burn and led her to the sink, where he ran the faucet.

A streak of jealousy shot through me like an electric shock as he held her hand, but I let it go. This was Iona. She hadn't deliberately meant to hurt herself. Still, she faltered at his touch and collected herself less quickly than I would have liked.

“You all right in there, sis?” Fergal shouted.

Iona merely squeaked as she peered up at my Angel. Gabriel took her wrist and, where she'd been mildly scalded, pressed his thumb over the burn. The fact that Iona's breathing hitched a little as he bore over her did not go unnoticed by me, flailing senses or not.

I didn't make a polite exit. Instead I shuffled backward, tripping slightly over the plastic surround of the door frame. I knew Iona meant no harm—if anything she was likely embarrassed—but nonetheless I didn't have the stomach for this, not today. Not any day.

I wondered if, when Gabriel saw Jonah and me together, he got that same nauseating sensation that I was feeling now.

I ambled around the side of the motor home before striding off into the depths of the grounds as briskly as my legs would allow.

The darkened clouds swirled above me, covering the sun, before releasing a pelting rain. I ran but not for long. My muscles felt tight and worn. Doubled over, I gasped for fresh air.

A few scant bushes, some shrubbery, and an odd cluster of trees here and there dotted the unlandscaped acres. I couldn't quite make out the main road in the distance, but the whoosh of cars let me know it was there. It was the only thing giving life to this dreary, lonesome spot.