The Thief (40 page)

The bracer is hungry, eating me alive. I’m
breathing hard, sweat running down my face. The bright red clarity
drains away, leaving me hollow. Dizziness overwhelms me as I lay
back. I mutter a curse at Sakamoto in Japanese and see him smirk
before I pass out on the forest floor.

“
Mac, Destin, I found her!”
Tailor called, sounding both close and far away.

Camille’s eyes fluttered open. Her limbs
felt dull and limp, and her throat was dry. The air was bright
around her, but it was the bright yellow blaze of the cafe. Somehow
she was back, lying in the grass at the edge of the parking
lot.

Tailor knelt at her side, checking her for
injuries. “You have the bracer back?” he noticed. “When did you get
that?”

Camille groaned, not even having enough
energy to form an explanation. Mac and Destin came out from the
treeline to stand over her too. So they’d been looking for her. The
idiots, she could have killed them. She’d almost attacked Hayley.
And Jul was...

Tears leaked out the side of her eyes.
Sakamoto had to be lying. He just had to be. He had been trying to
get a reaction from her, that’s all he ever did.

“
What happened?” Mac
exclaimed.

“
I just found her here,”
Tailor said. “I think she’s okay - ”

“
Then why is she crying?”
Mac demanded, kneeling on her other side. “Hey, you’re alright,
right? Come on, gold ranger, you’re fine, aren’t you?”

“
Yeah,” Camille croaked. He
really wasn’t so bad for a loudmouth shrimp.

He sat back in relief. “I knew you weren’t
Hulking out on us.”

Except she had been. If Sakamoto hadn’t
replaced the bracer...

“
Oh, this is unfortunate,”
said an unfamiliar voice. “I’m going to have to start over
completely from scratch.”

Summoning all her energy to turn her head,
Camille saw a strange man standing on the edge of the forest, not
far from them, looking up at the burning cafe. He had long, tangled
green hair and threadbare, outdated clothing. His expression was
petulant as he looked at them.

“
Well, John, how did you
talk Meredith into burning my cafe?”

His
cafe?

Tailor voiced her question. “Who the hell
are you?” he said, standing to face the man.

“
I’m exactly who you always
thought I was,” he grinned, a smirk that Camille recognized from
the paintings Jul had revealed. The third immortal.

“
I’ve gotten used to you
calling me Gabriel, so you can keep that up if you like,” he said,
“but now that I have my real body back you may as well know that I
also answer to Hemlock. Or the Thief. Hmm,” he considered, tapping
a finger against his chin. “Gabriel Hemlock. I like the sound of
that.”

Camille’s mind
whirled.
No.
No,
it couldn’t be. It was his expression, his stance, his cadence, but
the form was all wrong. The narrow face, the wide cruel mouth, the
glittering green eyes. He had the sort of beauty that was harsh
enough to cut yourself on. He was
not
Gabriel.

Tailor’s eyes were wide and disbelieving. “A
body switch? You mean you were hiding in that form for - ”

“
Nineteen oh six,” the green
haired man said lightly, “was the last time I was fully myself.
It’s been a rough century, I’ve got to tell you.” He stretched his
long limbs. “And I’ve got your Juliet to thank for fixing me. Ah,
that’s right, I should tell you - Simon went and ran her through
with that infernal sword of yours.”

Everyone reacted.

“
An utter waste, I agree,”
the man claiming to be Gabriel said, “but what’s done is done. I
thought I’d left something here...” his face twisted in confusion,
“but whatever it was, no doubt it’s burnt up in the fire. Ah well.
Good news for you, John, you won’t be seeing me for some time. I’ve
got so much work to do. I’ll let you get back to,” he looked at
Camille curiously, “the blonde girl.” There wasn’t even a hint of
recognition on his face.

That proved it. It wasn’t Gabriel.

“
Give my best to Charlotte,”
he said, waving as he disappeared into the trees, without a look
back. She wanted to get up and follow, yell at this stranger,
demand answers, but her body would not respond.

It wasn’t Gabriel.

Tailor’s cellphone was in his hand and he
was dialing. “Bea?” he said into it. “Bea, did you get home? Tell
me - ” He was silent for several moments, expression going distant
as he listened. “We’ll be right there,” he said, finally, and hung
up.

“
She’s found her,” he
said.

Chapter 22

Mac

We burst through the door at the Graham
house to see Ms. Bea pacing in the living room.

“
I found her in the
orchard,” she says, “lying at the foot of the tree. The mirror is
gone.”

I’m not sure which she sounds more upset
about. Me, I couldn’t give a crap about some mirror. Jul is dead on
the couch.

Camille, somewhat recovered, immediately
stumbles to her side, but I’m frozen. The front of Jul’s dress is
coated in dried blood, cascading from the tear in the fabric by her
heart.

Camille gasps. “There’s no - uh - ” She puts
her hand over her own heart, trying to telegraph a word she’s
forgotten.

“
No
heart?”
I exclaim. Oh God. I’m going
to be sick.

“
No wound?” Bea says
tersely. “Yes, I know. She has a pulse, too - an incredibly weak
one, but it’s there. She just won’t wake up. Her body is there, but
she’s not.”

She’s not dead.
Relief floods me.

“
What does that mean?”
Tailor demands. “Gabriel said Simon killed her!”

“
Gabriel?” she says.
“Gabriel can’t even speak. Found him in the orchard too, he helped
me bring her in. There’s some kind of spell on him, but I can’t
even get a good look at it because the blasted imp won’t let me
anywhere near him.”

“
Wait, what?” I demand, but
just then he comes through the doorway from the kitchen. Camille’s
guardian - well, the guy who looks like him - moves a little
stiffly, looking at each object around him as if it’s foreign. He
gives a slight bow of the head to us. There’s a new spiky
acid-green tattoo-looking thing covering his entire throat. There’s
also the imp perched on his shoulder, its long tail flicking as it
squints its lamplike eyes at us all.

Tailor gives him a hard look. “Bea, we saw
the real Gabriel at the cafe just before I called you. That’s
whoever he switched bodies with.”

She gapes at the man. “Animus mutatus? Why
on earth would he do that? That spell has horrendous side
effects!”

The man is staring at Camille, forehead
creased in confusion.

“
Gohei,” Camille says
hollowly. “You’re Gohei. He was Hemlock.”

Gohei inclines his head in a single long
nod.

Camille sits down, hard.

Bea and Tailor exchange a look. Apparently
something dire is afoot, but honestly, right now, I don’t care. I
go over and sit in the chair next to the couch and take Jul’s hand,
no longer intimidated by the idea. Her skin is cool, but Bea is
right - she has a faint pulse that beats every five seconds or
so.

“
I found where you hid your
whiiii-skey,” comes a voice from the kitchen in
sing-song.

“
I forgot to mention...” Bea
groans.

Oh, great. Not her again.

“
What is with all of these
gloomy faces?” Meredith says, breezing in and flopping into a
chair. “It’s like someone died.”

“
I’d think you wouldn’t want
to drink other people’s liquor after the day you’ve had,” Bea says,
giving her a wide berth.

The imp on Gohei’s shoulder hisses, tail
flicking angrily. He puts a hand up to hold it in place.

“
Sweetheart, after the day
I’ve had, I need
all
the liquor,” she sighs, drinking straight from the
bottle.

“
You burnt down a building,”
Tailor says coldly. “You almost killed Camille.”

“
And now I’m perfectly
harmless,” she grins, displaying the spell marks on her upper arm
like a hall pass.

“
You still want to kill
Camille,” Tailor snaps.

“
She’s a time bomb, I’d be
nutters if I didn’t,” she shrugs, taking another swig of the
bottle. “Surely you’ve heard of keeping your friends close and your
enemies closer? Here’s your opportunity. I can either stay here, or
go team up with your favorite boy Gabriel. There’s a man with a
plan.”

“
Why not go straight to him,
then?” Tailor asks. “Why bother with us at all?”

“
Because despite how I’ve
behaved today, I want this world to be ordinary. I like ordinary,”
she says fondly. “It has happy hour and chili cheese dogs and
American padded rugby featuring muscular men in shiny spandex
pants. I only misbehave to keep it that way. The Wolf will ruin you
all,” she points around the room, “and I’m certain you’ll learn to
see things my way. So!” she smiles, enjoying the antagonism.
“Anyone got a spare room?”

“
Like we need more
complications,” Tailor grumbles.

“
Hey, you’re the one who
bound me to the munchkin,” she states, pointing to the rings around
her arm. “You want to be free of me, just say the magic words,” she
grins at me.

“
Can you bring Jul back to
life?” I snap at her.

She actually seems to consider this. She
reaches into the back pocket of her pants and pulls out a tiny
leatherbound notebook. She flips through the pages briefly.
“Doesn’t seem like it, no,” she says, tucking the notebook away.
“Not on my list of things I’m capable of.”

“
Do you even know what’s
wrong with her?” I demand.

She sets the bottle down and comes closer,
observing her with curiosity. “There was...” Her brow creases in
thought. “Maybe...augh!” she cries out, hand to her head. “No!” she
shouts, suddenly furious. “I have no idea! Quit asking me
questions! I don’t care what happens to your girlfriend!” She
storms out of the front door. Gohei looks after her, expression
blank. The imp calms.

“
Gabriel said Simon ran her
through with the Tailor’s Sword,” Tailor is saying behind me. “It
was made for killing immortals. But I never really thought about
how it worked. My father said something about it severing the
connection with their souls, removing it...”

“
Below,” Destin says,
speaking up for the first time.

I turn - he’s looking at Gohei, who’s
pointing down.

Tailor makes a move to approach the man, but
the imp hisses at him, and Tailor stays where he is. “You know what
the sword does?” he asks, intent.

Gohei gives a light shrug,
as if to say,
Of course.

“
Then tell us!” I say, but
he points to his neck and quirks an eyebrow.

“
Oh for the love of...” Bea
says, rummaging in a drawer and handing him a pad of paper and a
pencil. He regards the writing utensil with curiosity, but proceeds
to scribble out a response. He hands the pad back to her and she
reads aloud, “Immortal bodies are indestructible. In order to
combat us, the Tailors forged a weapon that would sever our souls,
sending them Below.”

“
Below?” I
repeat.

Again, he points down.

“
What, like hell?” I
exclaim. I look at Jul’s impassive face. She can’t seriously be in
hell.

“
It’s been called a lot of
things,” Bea said, looking at her as well. “That’s probably the
least accurate. Probably.”

Camille stands, expression stony. “Alright,”
she says. “So how do we get her back?”

Epilogue

Rhys

What was the point?

I sat in my room, staring at the mirror.
When I’d come to, in the orchard, there had been Jul’s body lying
beside me and the mirror to the Tower, surface marred with spidery
cracks. I’d never been able to move it before - or I would have
ages ago - but now that it was broken whatever had held it in place
was gone. I’d carried it away with me and brought it home. No one
would get into my mirror ever again. I traced one of the silver
roses with my finger.

But what was the point?

I was going to bring her the
journal. I’d thought that handing over the stupid thing would
suffice to mend fences between us. That’s why I’d gone back to the
Tower, to retrieve it. I pulled it out of the interior of my jacket
now, looking at the inscription embossed inside the cover.
Kyra.
Her mother’s
journal, she’d said. It had brought her to me, and
I’d...

Well.

It took the greatest focus to manipulate
glass - I often centered my thoughts on an endless expanse of calm
ocean. Me, alone, with nothing but tranquility on every horizon.
But the ocean was dark now, and the sky overcast.

It seemed ridiculous that I should be this
distraught. She was one girl. I barely knew her.

I barely knew anyone, and it had never
bothered me before.

And yet, I couldn’t stop feeling this
immense sense of loss. And guilt. The ocean in my mind began to
churn. If only I hadn’t been so...if I hadn’t locked her out in the
first place...

I paced around my room. My bed looked too
much like the one that had burned in the Tower. The bookshelves
around me that rose from floor to ceiling felt oppressive, looming.
Full of research I had yet to do. This was what I had wanted. A
clear path to the throne, that was all that mattered. Anything else
was a distraction.