by D B Nielsen
Relieved, I turned back towards the dark-cloaked figure, but he was gone.
‘That’s strange,’ I murmured.
‘Ce qui est étrange?’ Gabriel asked, looking up.
‘I thought ... Oh, nothing ... My mistake.’ My words drifted off. For some reason I couldn’t remember what I was about to say.
Gabriel just smirked as if to say the ways of women were unfathomable and best left alone, and giving a flourishing wave of his hand, indicated that we had arrived at our destination. ‘Oubliez-en! Nous voilà!’
And just like that I forgot about the incident.
The Chloé store was all sophisticated simplicity – white walls, tiled floors, long-stemmed lilies in a glass vase on the counter. It made a statement in chic. It also discretely stated that it was expensive.
A willowy brunette in towering stilettos and an outfit reminiscent of a film noir femme fatale immediately approached Gabriel and me as we entered. He introduced her as the store manager and I briefly caught her name, Anouk, before I was embraced in a smother of slim limbs and the designer’s signature fragrance; the floral notes lightly tickling my nose.
Gabriel and Anouk conversed in French, obviously quite familiar with each other, while I wandered the store, looking at the racks of their latest seasonal collection, when I heard Anouk ask Gabriel if I was his latest girlfriend. I had to bite my lip not to laugh out loud but, within seconds, my smile faltered when I heard Gabriel tell the beautiful brunette standing at his side that I was St. John’s fiancée. I became so flustered that the silk dress I was examining slid off the hanger due to the trembling of my hand and pooled on the floor, a liquorice stain on the pristine whiteness of the floor tiles.
I awkwardly bent to pick it up, all the while feeling Anouk’s curious gaze upon me. I felt suddenly self-conscious and gauche and wished that the floor would open and swallow me up, so that I could escape further humiliation.
But it wasn’t to be – worst was yet to come.
Not even bothering to look at the price tag, I decided to buy the dress in my hand, simply desiring to cover my embarrassment. I hadn’t even decided yet if I liked it enough to wear it or if I could afford it but bought it anyway.
Gabriel convinced me to purchase a silk scarf for my mother that, for her, was a little understated but I deferred to his good taste. I didn’t know how I was going to pay for it all with my limited funds when Anouk handed me the designer label bags, after wrapping my purchases in a swath of tissue paper, and bid me farewell.
I looked confusedly at Gabriel who refused to catch my eye and felt compelled to ask Anouk whether she required me to pay.
Anouk laughed prettily claiming that I was “très drôle”.
I didn’t find it in the least amusing, especially when she informed me that my purchases would be invoiced to my fiancé. I would have protested loudly but Gabriel was already steering me out the door, wishing Anouk compliments of the season.
‘What just happened back there?’ I demanded, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk on the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré so that the pedestrians had to walk around us, muttering obscenities under their breath.
Gabriel gave another one of his careless Gallic shrugs and I felt like hitting him.
‘Bah, Sage,’ he said, in his charming French accent, a little too smooth for my liking, ‘T’inquiète.’
‘Don’t tell me not to worry,’ I growled at him, ‘What’s St. John going to think?’
He was about to shrug again but then caught sight of my expression and instead changed the gesture into an embrace, looping his arm around my shoulders. ‘St. John will not think anything. He has more than enough money to pay for such trifles.’
By now I was absolutely fuming. Refusing to be placated, I stated, ‘Well, you can just return them. I refuse to have anything to do with them.’
I thrust the parcels at Gabriel who finally realised that I wasn’t over the moon like any normal girl might have been at being gifted the latest season’s designer items and he began to look slightly flustered.
‘Tiens!’ Gabriel threw up his hands in a histrionic gesture, ‘I do not understand you modern women at all! What is the problem of having your fiancé buy you pretty little things now and again?’
I shook my head in exasperation. He was still referring to me as St. John’s fiancée and he completely dismissed the expense of the items he saw simply as “pretty little things”.
‘Dammit, Gabriel,’ I said, shrugging his arm away, ‘I’m not St. John’s fiancée and I won’t allow him to pay for my “trifles”, as you call them.’
Now it was Gabriel’s turn to look bewildered, shaking his head in dismay. ‘C’est dingue. Pourquoi a-t-il dit cela? Pardon, Sage. I mean, why did he say that? It’s crazy, non?’
‘He said that? St. John claimed that I was his fiancée?’
‘Oui, oui, oui,’ Gabriel nodded vigorously as if to exonerate himself from any wrongdoing. ‘This is what he tells me.’
I shook my head, dismayed. ‘But why?’
Gabriel flashed a charming smile. ‘Perhaps he does not trust me. He thinks I am too much of a ... how do you say ... lady’s man?’
‘Player,’ I supplied automatically.
But I knew this wasn’t the reason – if St. John allowed Gabriel to protect me in his absence then it meant that he trusted Gabriel implicitly. For some reason of his own, St. John had claimed I was his fiancée and I was determined to find out why. ‘Gabriel, you are not to say anything about this to St. John, okay? Promise me.’
‘But Sage–’
I cut off his protest, repeating my demand. ‘Promise me.’
‘On one condition,’ Gabriel agreed, ‘you must allow me to pay for these little things you bought from Anouk.’
I began to shake my head in protest but Gabriel laid a finger on my lips.
‘Sage, I am not blind. I noticed that you agreed to everything I said back there. You would have bought a ... a giraffe if I told you to.’ He raised a mocking eyebrow in my direction.
I sighed in defeat. It was true. I would have bought just about anything to get out of the store in order to escape from Anouk’s probing gaze. She obviously knew St. John well and I was afraid of being seen as lacking in comparison to St. John’s girlfriends in the past.
‘All right, you have a deal,’ I resignedly told Gabriel. ‘Now promise.’
Gabriel gave me a mock-salute. ‘I promise, little Sage. St. John will not hear of it from me.’
DUSK
CHAPTER FOUR
St. John was pacing the floor by the time we came back to the apartment, almost wearing a groove into the hardwood floorboards. His brass coloured curls were ruffled as if he’d been running his hands through his hair numerous times and his clothes were more dishevelled than I’d ever seen before, a shocking contrast to his usual refined, urbane façade. The look that he shot Gabriel and me when we walked through the front door would have been enough to slay a demon, but it was directed towards us with all the force of his anger – an anger which had reached boiling point hours ago.
‘St. John–’ Gabriel began but was immediately, and rudely, cut off.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ St. John demanded, fire spitting from his emerald eyes. ‘I asked you to look after her, not traipse all over the city on what looks to be a shopping spree!’
As his furious gaze swept over the designer labelled bags in my grasp, ignoring me completely, St. John turned the full brunt of his ire against Gabriel who was simply standing there, taking it in his stride, a small smile hovering at the corners of his mouth.
‘Don’t yell at Gabriel!’ I intervened on Gabriel’s behalf, ‘If anything, you should be angry with me – I’m the one who kept us out later than expected!’
Still not looking directly at me, St. John said, ‘Sage, stay out of this! I’ll deal with you later!’
I’d never seen St. John in such a temper before and though it made me quail before him, I refused to
back down. His flawless features were marred by an expression that was murderously angry and he seemed to blame Gabriel for betraying his trust which was completely ludicrous to say the least.
‘No, I don’t think so. No one’s going to “deal with me”. You left. Gabriel and I went shopping. End of story,’ I responded; feelings of injustice making my voice come out more forcefully than I intended, ‘But you can show some manners and thank Gabriel for taking such good care of me.’
By my side, Gabriel sucked in a shallow breath and I wondered if I had gone too far.
‘I’ve been waiting for you to arrive back for hours!’ St. John’s voice dropped low, deadlier than before, as he continued to address Gabriel. ‘I gave explicit directions that she was to be kept here until I’d consulted my father. Do you have any idea of the danger that you placed her in?’
‘Mon ami, je ne–’
Again Gabriel was cut off mid-explanation as St. John crossed the room to stand inches in front of his face, his voice blistering, ‘DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA OF THE DANGER THAT YOU PLACED HER IN?’
Even Gabriel flinched away from the fury that consumed St. John. Under his breath, St. John was muttering a string of profanities – words I’d never before heard uttered from his lips.
‘STOP IT!’ I shouted at St. John and, turning, pushed Gabriel towards the door, ‘Go home, Gabriel – he’ll call you later when he’s calmed down.’
‘Dammit, Sage!’ St. John finally looked at me directly and the tempest in his eyes was enough to show me that I shouldn’t have said anything, ‘This is none of your business! Gabriel can answer for himself!’
‘It is my business and you won’t let him answer!’ I replied, my own temper rising in response.
‘Sage,’ Gabriel said to me, placating, his voice low, ‘St. John is right – my folly is inexcusable!’
I shook my head, refusing to accept his unnecessary humility. ‘No, he isn’t right. For once, he’s wrong. Go home, Gabriel. St. John will call you. And thank you for taking me shopping today.’
‘T’inquiète,’ he murmured comfortingly in my ear, ‘all will be well. I shall return the jersey to you later, little Sage, à bientôt.’
I kissed Gabriel on the cheek and, in my peripheral vision, saw St. John’s jaw tighten and fists clench. Ushering Gabriel out the same front door that we’d only just entered, I turned to confront one very irate Nephilim.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ I hissed as soon as the door had closed behind Gabriel. ‘So, we’re a little late getting back. Get over it!’
‘Sage, you don’t understand what we’re dealing with – the Rephaim are ruthless and act without remorse,’ St. John responded through clenched teeth, pressing his temple with his fingers and closing his eyes in the hope of controlling his temper, ‘Gabriel had no right to place you in danger.’
I refused to listen, ‘I told you before I won’t allow a Rephaim to control my life. And I won’t allow you or your father or Gabriel to control my life either.’
‘Dammit, Sage–’ St. John’s eyes flew open at my accusation, but now it was my turn to cut him off.
‘No, you listen to me for a change.’ I insisted, grabbing the shopping bags off the floor where I’d dropped them and heading in the direction of the bedroom, ‘I didn’t ask to be the Wise One, but I accept that I am. Even so, I’m still me – still a mortal, still a woman, still my own person. And I’m going to do all the things that I would normally do – I am going to live, as much as possible, an ordinary life. If that means that I’ll go out shopping or clubbing or to see a movie or to visit a museum, I will. Understand that, St. John. I am going to live my life. And no one – not Louis, not Gabriel, not you – is going to stop me from doing that.’
‘Sage, listen–’
I opened the door at the end of the hallway, turning around to face him, ‘I think that you need to call Gabriel and apologise. You were completely unjust in your accusations. He took better care of me than you gave him credit for.’
With that, I shut the bedroom door in St. John’s mutinous face and hoped he would leave me alone to calm down.
Inside St. John’s bedroom, I felt restless and claustrophobic and knew I needed to relax. Dumping the shopping bags on the floor near the bed, I opened his Hi-Fi TV cabinet and perused his CD collection, hoping to find something that would soothe me. Like the books on his night stand, his taste in music was eclectic – ranging from the classics to jazz to heavy metal and pop. I decided upon the latest Il Divo CD – not usually my style but Mum seemed to like them quite a lot and I felt that their rich harmonies might be just the thing I needed to set my soul at ease.
Strains of Italian in a deep tenor filled the room from the surround sound system St. John had hooked up. The effect of the music, though not exactly instantaneous, was still calming. Removing my overcoat and boots to get more comfortable, I decided to look at my Christmas purchases.
Leaving the Chloé bag till last, I tipped out the various knickknacks onto the bed. I already had given Mum money to contribute to Fi’s gift of a lens for the new digital camera my parents were buying her for Christmas and Alex’s gift was with Gabriel being autographed, so that left only my parents, Jasmine’s and St. John’s gifts.
For Dad, I bought an Armani shirt and matching silk tie which Gabriel helped me get at a significant discount as he was currently seeing one of the designers, allowing me to afford the out-of-my-price-range designer label. I’d bought the silk scarf for Mum at Chloé but then found a boutique that sold handcrafted jewellery and fell in love with a pair of ostentatious gold and turquoise earrings in a Middle Eastern style which I thought was just right for her, appealing to her more animated personality. And, for Jasmine, I managed to buy in Paris’s outdoor markets, a princess costume in rainbow colours with layers of tulle and satin and sparkling diamantes – it was every little girl’s dream dress.
Finally, for St. John, I asked for Gabriel’s advice and assistance. It was hard to know what to get for a three thousand-year-old Nephilim who seemed to have everything money could buy.
Luckily, in the same store where I bought Mum’s earrings, I noticed a tray of sterling silver signet rings which gave me an idea. I knew that from ancient Egypt, royal seals in the form of signet rings had been found and were now part of the museum’s collection. And, in ancient Mesopotamia, such seals were engraved on cylinders which could be rolled to create an impression on clay.
I asked Gabriel if he would speak to the craftsman for me, interpreting my wishes. When he agreed, I commissioned a signet ring from the craftsman to be made bearing a seal in the form of a winged lion – a representation of St. John himself, my very own protector. The craftsman named an outrageous amount for the piece which I would have paid if not for Gabriel’s haggling. When the negotiations were finished, Gabriel told me he would collect the signet ring himself and send it by courier to the Manor House. St. John’s gift would arrive just before Christmas, cutting things very fine, but it would well be worth it. I made a mental note to buy something nice for Gabriel to thank him for all his trouble.
Dusk was now gathering outside the window erasing form in the fall of violet, melting silver and midnight blue. I moved to close the curtains but almost tripped on the svelte designer labelled bag from Chloé and was momentarily diverted. Making room on the king size bed, I removed the box and opened its lid. Swathed in tissue paper, I drew forth a waterfall of sheer black silk. It was the dress I had unwittingly purchased in my haste to exit the store.
Resolutely, I began to undress in order to try it on. I’d been undecided about purchasing the dress back in the store and, in fact, had paid very little attention to what I’d been holding at the time before I’d dropped it on the floor.
Standing in my underwear I slid the smooth silk over my head and let it drape around me. The first thing I noticed was that I couldn’t wear a bra with it. Cursing, as it wasn’t my usual style, I awkwardly removed my bra and looked down as the dress hugged my form l
ovingly, like a lover’s caress.
Oh God! There’s too much cleavage showing! I thought in dismay.
This was the kind of dress that only someone who had nerves of steel and curves in all the right places could wear, some supermodel or celebrity. This was the kind of dress that Fi might wear just on a dare, just to shock people – because, even while Fi really loved designer labels, her Formal dress was vintage Chanel in the style of Audrey Hepburn. My own Formal dress was much more modest than this.
Even with my long hair, I wouldn’t have been able to cover up the way the dress exposed so much flesh. Mum was going to flip if she ever saw me in it! I only wished that there was a mirror in St. John’s room for me to see myself fully.
I stood there in the middle of the bedroom contemplating sending the dress back, regardless of the deal I’d made with Gabriel – the dress was far too sophisticated for me; it spoke of romance and passionate steamy nights and the French Riviera. I didn’t even have an occasion to wear it.
A loud knock had me whirling around in horror as St. John pushed the bedroom door open and entered.
‘Look, Sage, I–’
He broke off abruptly as his gaze took in my still form, eyes widening at the sight of me in a dress that revealed far too much of my figure. If I expected his sardonic wit and mockery or some pithy comment or well-employed quote, I was mistaken.
St. John looked gobsmacked.
‘My God!’ he breathed, spellbound.
I might have felt embarrassed given time but he was across the room in three strides, coming to stand before me without so much as touching me. He was silent for a long moment, his emerald eyes intensely assessing me across the infinitesimal distance that separated us. I could feel him – his heat, the pounding of his heart – even though he wasn’t touching me.
‘I thought you promised not to distract me or annoy me or tempt me,’ he murmured.
My breath caught in my throat as I shook my head, not knowing what to say.