Forbidden (The Gabriel Lennox Series Book 1) (26 page)

“Oh. Come now, dearest Gabriel. Whatever is the matter? You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

Gabriel felt Seth slip out of his mind, out of his presence. Obviously afraid. So, his opponent wasn’t as raving mad as he had thought.

CONFUSION PLAGUED
COLIN
. He couldn’t believe his eyes, and blinking didn’t help to clear his vision. Gabriel should’ve been inside, but instead, he wielded his long sword, slaying the Chosen he had promised to protect.

He moved beautifully, elegantly, deadly, slashing his sword through the throng of dancers, causing severed hands, arms, and heads to fly through the air like the limbs of dolls.

Crimson blood splattered along the garden’s stone wall and coated the cobblestone walkway, making it slick, but undeterred, his master strolled along, swinging his great sword.

Oh God. Will water and lye be enough to clean this gory mess?
Colin thrust the absurd thought aside and rushed toward his master.

“What are you doing?” he called to him. “You said we weren’t to spill any blood! Why did your plans change? Master!”

He rushed toward Gabriel, and by the time he noticed his master turning to him, the blade of the sword unavoidably directed at his heart. The momentum of his frenzied running only shoved the sword farther, deeper. He felt the pain briefly, and when his mind mercifully numbed it, he looked up and into the face of the one who betrayed him. A face that he had worshiped and adored and those emerald eyes strangely tinged with . . .

With gold?

* * *

Gabriel stormed out into the garden. His boots pounding and following him, the echo of Sevien’s footsteps against the stone walkway were eerily the only sounds. What had happened?
What?
An eerie sense of distress weighed heavy upon him. Behind him, Sevien droned on about . . . something. He didn’t care what. Nathaniel had rushed ahead of him. As he walked down the stairs into the courtyard, he had a strange, aching desire to turn around, to flee back the way he came. When he reached the final step, he curled his fingers into tight fist, willing himself to go forward. A few feet in the distance, Faron, Nathaniel, and Alexander stood in a circle.

Stay focused, dear Gabriel, Seth spoke in his mind, I don’t want you to miss my next surprise. . .

Gabriel hesitated.

Their heads were bowed and their backs facing him. Nathaniel peered over his shoulder at him. He moved toward him, his arms spread in what looked like an embrace, but instead of taking him in his arms, Nathaniel waved his hands in a “calm-down” manner. “Now, now, Gabriel. Don’t panic. Stay calm—”

Gabriel shoved him aside.

Nathaniel stumbled on his feet for a second before regaining his balance. His long blonde hair fell like a curtain hiding his face.
Probably scowling. Good.

Gabriel didn’t want to see his pouting. Alexander and Faron were wiser and had already cleared a path. He had to blink several times to take in what his mind didn’t want to accept.

Chaos. Blood and chaos. Dead bodies and limbs were sprawled and scattered all about, but that wasn’t the worst.

A few feet in front of him laid Colin. His skin looked paler than ever. The puddle of blood spreading beneath him explained more than he wanted to know. Colin’s carmine blood drew Gabriel toward him like a magnet. The boy had been run through with a sword. A gaping black hole filled with blood.

Gabriel fell to his knees beside him. “How did this happen?” he asked, unnerved by the composed softness in his voice.

“You were here killing the others. Colin tried to stop you and—”

Gabriel lurched to his feet and took Faron by the throat. “That wasn’t me, you fool!
Seth
. It was Seth!”

He threw open the door of his mind, shouting, screaming at Seth through the bond’s recess: “
You’re dead! Dead! Do you hear!
”

Shaken by his outburst, he waited—listening for a reply and to his pleasure, heard nothing.

“Colin,” he whispered, afraid that if he spoke too loud and still didn’t get a response, the terrible truth would sink in that Colin had died.

Truly dead.

Gabriel dipped his fingers into the pool of blood beneath him. Still warm. He drew in a sharp breath of . . . hope?

Nathaniel rested a cold hand on his shoulder. “You could bring him back. You could,” he hesitated, “make him undead.”

“No!” Gabriel raged.

“Why not?”

“Because. And you know why not. Because—” Gabriel stopped. He didn’t want to speak it, didn’t want to say it. He would leave the truth unsaid, let silence bear the weight of his fear.

“Then come away from him. Mourning is useless,” Faron said.

“Colin,” Nathaniel whispered, “isn’t like your sister. Well,
was
not . . .”

Gabriel closed his eyes and draped himself over the boy’s body. “Leave me alone,” he ordered. He rested his head so that his ear pressed against Colin’s chest. He couldn’t hear the beat of his heart. “I won’t let you die,” he said, but his own voice sounded miles and miles away. He dipped into that place inside of himself. He felt a burning, a tingling travel all over his body and flow through his fingertips, his lips. He pressed his mouth against Colin’s throat.

Surprise evaded him when Colin’s fingers began twitching to life. Relief flowed through him, warring with his worry and regret even after he heard Colin’s voice cry out a confused and troubled, “Master?”

“Yes, Colin. I’m here.” He sat back on his heels so he could get a good look at his face, his eyes.

“Did you? Did you save me?”

Gabriel rose to his feet and told Alexander to carry the boy inside. “He’ll need rest.”

He turned to Faron and Nathaniel. “Clean this place up.” He turned on his heels and walked away. He needed to be alone. To think. To digest all that had happened. But he wasn’t alone. Sevien chose to follow him. He ignored Sevien and continued walking until he reached the other side of the garden. In its center, stood a grove of oak trees. He leaned against one and crossed his arms against his chest.

“What do you want? Go help clean up or do something useful instead of stalking me.”

Sevien looked at him. “You don’t fear me, do you, Gabriel?” he asked, apropos to nothing.

“That’s a bloody random question. What is it that you really want to know?”

He chuckled. “I was curious what a man like you would do when fear pushes him against a wall. Now, I’m wondering what you would do to be rid of your blood bond from Seth. I would like to know what you cherish most.” He paused, flashing a sweet, white-toothed smile. “So that I can make it mine.”

Gabriel remained silent.

“Would you, could you,” Sevien asked in a rich, sing-song voice, “give me Colin?”

“Is this some jest? You can’t be serious.” He took a retreating step backward. Then another, preparing to run. To escape. But how far could he go when a devil—perhaps
the devil—
stalked at his heels? No, he wouldn’t flee, like a coward. He planted his feet firmly in place and stood his ground.

Sevien moved toward one of the tallest oak trees and stood in front of it, no longer smiling. A hard, serious look twinkled in his jeweled eyes. “Spill your blood near the roots and after that, listen for the wind.”

Gabriel walked just enough so that he stood directly beneath the tree’s branches, but a good distance away from Sevien. He slit one of his wrists. The blood made a small pool at the base of the tree. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Sevien, but he had already gone. Where to?

The wind sighed, blowing his hair into his face and shaking the trees’ branches.

“Give me what you hold most dear. Give me what you cherish most,” said a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. “Give me Colin. He is something that you cherish. In exchange for a soul bond, give him to me, and I will assist you. Bring him here, Gabriel, and cut his throat, and once he’s dead, his released soul can quench my thirst.”

The voice could’ve been speaking directly into his mind or from the tree. Gabriel wasn’t sure, but it sounded familiar. Achingly, beautifully, and cruelly familiar. “Then and only then,” Sevien went on, “can I give you a soul bond. Then and only then, can you defeat Seth. Otherwise, you will die.”

Gabriel clenched his hands into fists. He could feel rage—cold and deadly—rising up in him. “No, Sevien,” he replied without hesitation. “I don’t need you. Or your bonds. Once I’ve destroyed Seth, I shall destroy you. And the rest of your kind,
Sthenius
,” he added, voice full of malice.

Sevien let out a low chuckle.

Yes, laugh. Laugh while you can
, Gabriel thought, as he strode out of the garden without looking back.

ANOTHER DREAM.
ANOTHER MURDER
. A quick cut of a woman’s throat from ear to ear that didn’t even allow her to cry. Had Seth killed another in order to torment him?

Gabriel bolted up in bed, at the sound of a low, muffled cry coming from inside the house. The sound did not fade, but rather crescendoed into the sobbing of a woman.

He followed the sound to Nikolai’s room, expecting to find Bela weeping at Nikolai’s side with a dagger in her hand ready to thrust it into his chest. The death dreams were warnings, threats to the heart of the matter: his authority, his sovereignty.

Protection. Honor. That’s why I have come here.

Gabriel dashed to the door of Nikolai’s bedroom. Once inside, he shut the door behind him. He glanced around the room and saw nothing from where he stood. The crying rose again, coming from near Nikolai’s curtained bed. He stood still. He heard the rustling of the wind caressing the flowers in the garden below, which could only be explained by the open window. Unfortunately, Nikolai’s enormous bed blocked it from view. He’d have to have Colin do something about that.

He glided inches across the floor, as silent as mist. Using tact and stealth against the intruder would give him the upper hand. He moved toward the bed to draw the curtain back, but something on the windowsill caught his attention, and it wouldn’t let him go.

The girl in his dreams. Not a flesh-and-blood image, but clearly a transparent phantom of her. Five feet away, she drew in her breath deeply, sobbing. After a few moments, her cries became soundless. She merely sat there staring out of the window, with her beautiful, dark, eager eyes unaware of his presence while the tears streamed down her face in clear rivulets. What was she? An apparition of the past that he could never know? Or an omen of the future?

He could endure her being the latter. For the first time, finally, he could see her face to face. But why she had appeared in Nikolai’s bedroom, he didn’t understand. It reminded him of the phenomena revolving around mediums during séances. Sometimes, spirits were said to pour from the medium’s mouth looking like tendrils of milky fog. But this encounter surpassed these.

What was her name, and why did she weep? He longed to hold her in an embrace and comfort her.

Gabriel couldn’t tear his eyes from her face and figure, which were of a rare beauty—elegant, softly voluptuous, and petite. He reached out with trembling fingers to touch her, afraid that she would fade away, but more afraid that he would go mad if he couldn’t at least try to—

“Is that wise?” Nikolai asked. He had pulled back the curtains of his bed. He kneeled watching Gabriel with his enormous eyes.

Gabriel wondered for how long the boy had been watching him. He drew back his hand with some difficulty, but the phantom had already vanished. A second didn’t pass in between the time Nikolai woke up and the girl vanishing.
An obvious connection. Certainly not a coincidence.

Gabriel spun around and glared at Nikolai. He balled his hands into restraining fists. “What have you done?”

Nikolai bowed his head. “Helping you. I know how you feel about her. So I borrowed her from you.”

“Borrowed her?”

“You didn’t believe me when I told you about my ability to eat dreams, did you? Well, I didn’t devour her, but I did take her away from you to protect you. To protect your memory of her.” Nikolai tilted his head back to look him in the face. “And I guess to protect
her
. She is, this phantom of yours, quite beautiful.”

“And it was your mother,” Gabriel replied, “who taught you how to eat and snatch away dreams.”

“Yes. She’s very pretty too, my mother. Do you know who she is?” Nikolai asked.

Gabriel frowned at the know-it-all expression on the child’s face. The way adults looked when they asked questions that they already knew the answers to. “She who? Your mother . . . or?”

Nikolai shook his head in a demure show of apology, the long bangs of his black hair falling in his face. He blinked, and Gabriel could sense some tiny gale. Though his eyes were a similar shade to Nathaniel’s, within the contrast of his black hair, Nikolai’s eyes held some kind of warmth. “Sorry. I meant the girl. Your dream girl.”

“Never mind that. Go back to sleep.”

“Yes,” Nikolai said flatly, “and you need to figure out a way to stop Seth.”

Gabriel chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

He shook his head, doubting that a child could see the humor in this situation. This is farcical, he thought. Ridiculous, an eleven-year-old giving me advice.

“Really,” Nikolai went on, “this isn’t funny. You must let me save him. He’s just a lost soul. Likewise, killing him will only lead to the beginning of more problems.” Tears trembled on the rims of his enormous eyes before spilling down his face. “My heart hurts,” he whispered, “whenever I think of him. I wish that I didn’t have a heart. I wish I didn’t have anything that causes me pain.”

Gabriel stopped laughing. “What makes you say such things? What do you see in Seth that I don’t?”

Nikolai didn’t answer, but clenched his hands into fists and pummeled Gabriel’s chest. He threw his head back and screamed again, eyes shut tight, and face red. A loud, wordless scream.

Gabriel closed his own eyes, willing Nikolai to be still, silent. He even hummed a melody he had heard Mikel playing on the piano. He supposed Mikel’s gift for music had a purpose after all.

Moments later when he opened his eyes, he realized that Nikolai had fallen asleep wrapped in his arms. His face glowed with the perfect peace that only privileged children must be blessed with. With some bitterness, Gabriel didn’t recall ever being able to succumb to sleep so quickly.

He drew back the covers and laid Nikolai down. The child snuggled into the soft sheets, giggling in the deep sleep of children, dreaming of raindrops turning into lemon drops and God knew what else.

A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Gabriel’s mouth. He tried rationalizing this tender occurrence with the boy merely being an extension of his power.
Protection. Honor. That’s all there is to it
, he told himself. Unconvinced, he knew this feeling sprung from a place more than one of duty.

For a few seconds, the rumble of thunder drowned the rhythmic music of Nikolai’s beating heart and his steady breathing. A burst of blue light pulsed into the room seconds after that. Gabriel sat on the window sill and watched the sky pregnant with clouds, emptying itself of rain. The sun would rise in a few hours. He wondered when the little girl had died. He could still feel the essence of her fear. It lingered upon him like a shadow. Torment. Definitely torment. He knew that he wasn’t killing these people, but he couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Fear. That was why Nikolai had cried.

Gabriel stood up and knelt beside him. He reached out his hand and feathered the long, black bangs spread across his high forehead. As he worried over him, he noticed that the child looked slightly altered. His face looked harder around the jaw line and the dimple in his chin was more defined. No mistake. He had grown . . . older. Gabriel’s fingers hovered above the boy, close to rousing him, but after debating what little good it would do, chose otherwise. His quarrel was with Lilith and Faron. Especially Lilith.

He would send for them. Immediately.

Yes, something would have to be done.

He hurried down the stairs.