The black t-shirt I’d chosen was far more comfortable than the jeans I’d borrowed from Mariella earlier and I teamed it with a pair of Xavier’s gym shorts. Again, they were too big, but I tied them as tight as they’d go at the waist and just hoped for the best. I made the bed and quickly scribbled a note on a piece of paper apologising, just in case he came through to check on me before I came back. Then I grabbed the shoebox and clasped it under my arm and picked up the dagger, piercing my finger. This whole opening gates thing was becoming far too much of a habit, but just as Miranda had said, it got easier each time.
As best I could, I pictured the club where I’d first met Samael. At first, all I could manage was the filthy alleyway out front where Mariella had introduced me to what I imagined was one of many lady friends. Then, eventually, memories of the interior returned. The black and red, the people robed in sheer dresses or completely nude. The leather couches and glass walls, the small but crowded dance floor. The long, dark wood table overlooking the dancers so reminiscent of the last supper it was almost laughable. I wiped my bloodied finger on the ground and shifted the dagger to the right, the gate opening with ease and allowing myself to take a step forward.
Much to my relief, the cold London air didn’t hit me as I’d half expected. Instead, I was enveloped in warmth. Too much warmth. Only when my eyes focused from the shock of travelling through the gate did I realise what I was looking at.
Samael, who I recognised instantly thanks to his deathly pale skin and onyx, ruffled hair, was staring back at me from his position on an enormous bed. Draped across him were two, possibly three women, but it was hard to tell given the position they were in. One had her mouth wrapped around his cock, another had her fists tangled in his hair as she feasted on his throat, and the third was nothing more than a mysterious pile beneath a set of dark silk sheets.
I averted my gaze, staring up at the ceiling as my face and chest lit up and a terrifying shade of red.
“Well, this is a most pleasant surprise,” Samael purred elegantly, unaffected by the intrusion of his privacy. “Given that you haven’t been in my sleeping quarters, I’m most impressed you opened a gateway that led you here. It must be some twist of fate.”
“I doubt it,” I replied, keeping my eyes trained on the high ceiling. “Honestly, this is just how my life is going these days.”
“Do feel free to join,” he added playfully, his tone almost drowned out by the choir of female moans and coos coming from around him. “Silence!” He yelled furiously, his voice reverberating off the walls in an otherworldly fashion fitting of someone like him—a monster.
“Kind of you to ask, but I’d rather not,” I said, my voice laced with sarcasm despite the itching fear creeping into my mind. Perhaps this was a terrible idea. So far, I hadn’t run into a monster I couldn’t handle in one way or another, or I’d at least had someone coming to back me up. Not this time. If things went South, I was fucked.
Both of which were probably a poor choice of words.
Samael groaned in frustration. “Leave.”
I’d already moved to reach for the dagger and was about to prick my finger and open another gate when Samael stopped me, his warm hand closing around my wrist. I kept my eyes locked on anything but him and all his naked glory as I remained still.
“Not you,” he added softly. “The Jezebel’s.”
My eyebrows raised, and I laughed apathetically. “Charming.”
The women, and yes, there were indeed three—were stunning. All of them toned and slender with dark skin and picturesque faces, yet all of them sneered at me as they passed, their jet-black eyes searing into my very soul.
“Now, now. Enough of that,” Samael ordered calmly. “Jealous beasts. But a forked tongue can do wonders for the soul.” He paused, as though in deep thought. “I feel I should rephrase. That was misleading since I don’t have a soul. I’d hate to give you a false sense of security.”
I had a very strong feeling that I’d made a huge mistake.
Samael leaned forward, his bright green eyes burying themselves in mine as he leaned his pointed chin on his palm. He’d at least done me the courtesy of putting on some clothes. I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate otherwise. Slowly, he lifted a finger in front of his lips as if in deep thought, his almond-shaped eyes narrowing in consideration.
“You’ve been spending more time with our king, have you not?” He asked finally, his posture unmoving.
Unsure how I was supposed to answer, I merely shrugged. “I haven’t had much choice.”
“I warned you,” he replied quickly, stretching back into his chair and settling his clasped hands in his lap.
The room we were in was part boudoir part office and, from the sounds of things, it didn’t seem to be attached to his club at all. There was no drill of music through the walls or interruption of staff at the door. Instead, he had retrieved drinks from a concealed refrigerator himself just moments ago and poured them at the table, just like any normal person. But Samael was anything but normal. It was clear in the way he moved, the way he talked. Everything seemed unnatural, as though he even had to remind himself to breathe—each human mannerism was foreign to him, right down to blinking, which he only seemed to do every couple of minutes.
“I don’t plan on staying long,” I said, trying to feign even a pinch of confidence.
Samael tilted his head to the side. “I’d say that was up to me, don’t you think?”
My heart hammered in my chest, fluttering like a wild bird caught in a cast iron cage. I focused on the vase in the corner, brimming with a large bouquet—their scent was intoxicating. A mixture of roses, chrysanthemums, and hydrangeas. An odd mix. The perfume was heady and a little overpowering, given that the room we were in didn’t have any windows. It was so dark in here, so closed in. Soon, it was as though I could breathe at all. My hands grappled at the t-shirt I was wearing and I tried to force mouthfuls of air down my throat. Samael watched in amusement from across the table, a twisted grin on his face as if this alone made my visit worth his trouble.
Only when his fingertips danced in swirls across the tabletop did my chest loosen. The scent started to fade, and the stars cleared from my eyes. I could breathe.
I fell forward onto the table, panting the warm air as if any minute now it would vanish once again.
My head pounded from the sudden change in oxygen levels, and I forced myself to look back at Samael. “You did that.” It wasn’t a question, and I didn’t need an answer. The pleasure I found on his face was enough to confirm what I already knew.
“Xavier might caress your fragility with that gentle touch of his, but I prefer to train my pets with a firmer hand, love.”
I gritted my teeth, trying to remind myself that just moments ago this monster literally sucked the air from my lungs without batting an eye, but the urge to lunge across the table and attempt to rip his throat out was overwhelming.
“There it is,” Samael continued, standing up and leaning further across the table until our faces were just inches apart.
“What?” I hissed in question, using all my strength to stay somewhat calm as he peered down at me.
“Hellfire and holy water, all wrapped up in a pretty little parcel,” he cooed, edging closer until his face was almost touching mine. “Ask me anything, contrary to popular belief, a serpent does not lie.”
I swallowed whatever fear or distrust I was harbouring while Samael settled back into the seat opposite me. Bad idea or not, I was here now and I might as well find out what he had to say.
“Seamus told me you would help me take down the Silver’s,” I stated, and almost immediately, Samael burst into a fit of giggles, more akin to a child than the terrifying demon he was.
“I beg your pardon?” He spluttered, taking a sip of his drink and swirling the ice left in the glass’s bottom.
To explain myself better, I sat up straight and set my elbows on the table, trying to show Samael that I was serious. �
�So far, I’ve had two people refer to me as poison. Xavier is keeping things from me. I don’t think I can trust him. Enough people have died. I need this over with. Seamus said you would tell me what I need to know to finish this.”
Samael considered my words for a second, looking almost impressed. “He hasn’t fed from you, has he?”
The question hung in the air as if tied to a weight. I shook my head.
“Didn’t you ever wonder why?” Samael asked. “Pretty little thing like you. I’m sure he’s between your thighs all hours of the day. It would make sense he’d wish to taste every morsel you’ve got to offer. Don’t you think?”
I grimaced at the thought. I’d never been prudish in the slightest, but there was such a thing as being too open.
“Your blood, Quintessa, is poison,” Samael groaned, rolling his eyes as if he were utterly bored with the conversation by this point. “Whatever you are, wherever you came from, you are a half-breed mutt, and your blood doesn’t sit right in the stomachs of our vampire friends. Make sense?”
As harsh as he’d chosen to put it, it made sense. Not just regarding Xavier, but with the vampire at Omen and the vampire in Lily’s flat. Neither one of them had stuck around long enough to drink from me after that first bite. Immediately, something clicked in the forefront of my mind and I pictured Seamus’s eager face back in Xavier’s kitchen. Him urgently telling me to come here and talk to Samael, just after the mention of attacking the Silver’s during their feeding time. He must have known about me. Must have known what I was, or at least had an idea.
“What would happen?” I asked, almost forgetting where I was or who I was talking to—already formulating a rough plan in my head. “What would happen if a vampire drank from me?”
Samael took a deep breath in and exhaled through pursed lips, tapping his finger against his chin as he pondered. “They would die a most horrific death, I’d presume.”
“You presume? You don’t know for certain?”
“I’m an angel, not a historian, love,” he replied nonchalantly, and I spluttered.
“You’re an angel?” I choked, thinking about Gabriel with his beautiful white wings and regal stature.
Samael’s lips lifted once again, and he winked. “We come in all shapes and sizes. Let’s not be judgmental.”
“Is it possible that I could kill the Silver’s using my blood?” This time, I was serious, and I hoped Samael would grasp that. I had to get Jocelyn back and if stopping Lilith and the Silver’s was the only way to do that, then so be it.
He shrugged, “one good thing about having blood like yours is that it smells different, alluring. If they caught the scent whilst already feeding, they wouldn’t be able to stop themselves before it was too late.”
Without a word from me, Samael reached into the breast pocket of his black suit jacket and pulled out a small vial. He set it down on the table and pushed it across to me, urging me to pick it up.
“Get in the room with them and drink this, down the hatch in one,” he instructed. “It’ll take about sixty seconds and it’ll only last two to three minutes.”
“What does it do?” I asked.
Samael’s pink lips tensed to disguise his amusement. “It will make you smell even more irresistible than usual to our fanged friends. You can expect a front-row seat to a feeding frenzy.”
“Then what do I do?” I already knew the answer. There’d be nothing I could do. There was no chance of survival.
“Just make sure someone’s on the way to pick up the pieces, it won’t take a few Silver’s long to drain you, but if they are indeed holding your missing person, they aren’t smart enough to keep her in a separate location.”
My thumb ran lazily across the glass vial while I considered his words. Samael had basically just handed me a death sentence, but if I played my cards right, it could also mean I save Jocelyn.
“Am I supposed to thank you for this?”
Samael grinned wildly. “If you live, let’s just say you owe me a favour.”
Chapter Twenty Eight
With Samael’s advice weighing heavily on my mind, I knew I couldn’t go back to Xavier’s. If I was going to do this, I’d need to figure it out on my own. The apartment the Silver’s were staying in was near Canary Wharf. I knew that much. Mariella had taken most of the notes away when she left Xavier’s townhouse with Orion yesterday, so if I wanted an exact location, I’d need to get a hold of those pieces of paper.
I had two options, either I could go to Omen hoping Xavier hadn’t realised I was gone and wasn’t out there looking for me and search for the notes Mariella had kept myself. Or I could use some form of female power code and let Mariella in on my plan. Samael had mentioned that I’d need someone to swoop in and pick up the pieces. Chances were, I wasn’t going to walk away from the Silver’s unharmed, or at all, so someone would need to go in and find Jocelyn and get her safety—Mariella was a good choice for that, surely.
There was just one problem, and it was a big one, the same one that was always hanging over my head. Xavier. Mariella, like the rest of the people that worked for him, worshipped the ground he walked on, even if she occasionally acted like she didn’t. A few minor betrayals didn’t mean she’d be willing to go against her oath to him and play for my team instead. There’d have to be something in it for her and right now, I was coming up blank.
My hand wrapped around the vial Samael had given me, where it swung heavily in the bag beside my dagger. There was one other person, one that wanted this all over and finished with, that didn’t care much about my personal wellbeing. One that wanted Xavier to stay out of this just as much as I did.
Gabriel.
Not giving myself the opportunity to overthink the decision, I opened a gate and reluctantly stepped through, landing in the dome shaped room Miranda and I had been inside a few days ago. It was darker this time, given that it was the middle of the night and the windows were hidden behind thick curtains. The only light came from a few dim chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling.
I moved cautiously through the double doors towards Gabriel’s office, hoping that I wouldn’t run into any of his colleagues or the creepy old men I’d spotted downstairs in the library last time. I wasn’t in the mood for making up excuses. I needed this over and done with so that I could get back to some sort of normality.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” Gabriel’s voice called from behind the closed office door, laced with annoyance but not sounding surprised by my sudden appearance. I pushed against the door and stepped inside, hovering in the doorway and watching him at his desk. His dark blonde hair was loose, hanging around his face as he scribbled in a large, leather-bound book, a pair of thick-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as his brow furrowed in concentration.
“Didn’t anyone explain you can’t be using the gates to travel whenever you feel like it?” He added, still refusing to look at me. “Or is this just one more thing you’re doing to make my job just that little more difficult?” Gabriel sighed, finally setting his pen down and lifting his head to meet my eyes. Slowly, he reached up to remove his glasses and signalled to the chair opposite him.
I shook my head, staying put at my place in the doorway. “I’m not staying, I just need your help.”
He laughed. “Isn’t that fitting?”
“I wouldn’t have come to you if it wasn’t the absolute last option,” I quipped. “Trust me.”
This seemed to pique his interest, but I enjoyed watching him try to hide the curiosity in his eyes as he leaned back in his chair and studied me.
There was such a stark difference between him and Samael. I couldn’t believe they were both the same species—if that was even the correct term. Angels. Gabriel fit the brief, beautiful, elegant, regal. Samael was raw and dark in every sense of the word. I’d presumed he was a demon from the get go. But what did I know—perhaps angels and demons were the same breed, it would make a lot more sense.
“I know you want t
o take care of the situation with Lilith and the Silver’s without Xavier’s input,” I began, causing Gabriel’s eyebrows to twitch upwards in intrigue. I took that as a signal to go on. “I want that too.”
This time he frowned and tilted his head, his plump lips parted as if he were pondering his words. “If you are planning to avenge the death of Thatcher, I’m not interested.”
Fury flushed my skin, but I bit down on the inside of my lip to calm myself, taking a deep breath to steady myself.
“It’s not as simple as that.”
“But that's why you’re here,” Gabriel added quickly. “You reek of grief, rage. It’s been hours, Quintessa. You’ve barely accepted he’s gone, yet here you are, willing to throw yourself under the bus to save a vampire.”
“That’s not the reason,” I said, shaking my head furiously and struggling against the urge to laugh. “I’m not trying to save Xavier.”
Gabriel paused and observed me for a moment, the distance between us feeling like it wasn’t nearly enough. Hatred swelled in the pit of my stomach for the angel who presumably had the power to stop all of this with the click of his finger, to bring Thatcher back maybe, or to have just not let his death happen in the first place. Now this asshole had the audacity to question my morals, my motives.
“Then what are you trying to do?” He asked, finally.
“I’m sick of waiting for all of you to do something,” I laughed, sadness seeping into the words. I was tired, and it showed in the way my shoulders slumped, in the way my head lolled backwards each time I was asked to explain myself or my actions. These men, these monsters—I didn’t owe them anything, so why did I need their permission. Why did I need their help?
“All I require is for you to get me into the Silver’s apartment. I’ll find Jocelyn. I have a source that says if she’s still alive, they’ll be keeping her there.” I paused, making sure Gabriel was listening closely.
Silver Vein: Beneath the City Sleeps Book 1 Page 22