by W. J. May
“Listen, I wasn’t trying to watch...but I saw something happening.” The words came out faster now, in an anxious jumble. “I know you don’t want me looking in, and I wasn’t trying to, I swear. It’s just, Angel has me on ‘danger alert,’ so I couldn’t really help it...”
He trailed off as Gabriel laughed quietly on the other end. His concern for his sister vanished on the spot, shifting seamlessly into affection for his future brother-in-law.
“What did you see, Jules?”
Julian’s voice grew abruptly quiet, like he was cupping his hand over the phone.
“Don’t take the subway. There’s an inked guy down there who’s going to jump you.”
Gabriel froze, then recovered all in the same instant. It was only a matter of time before Stryder or one of his goons came looking for him. The grace period for a missing corpse in a bloodied apartment could only stretch so far.
“Gabriel,” Julian sounded upset, “you there?”
Gabriel shook himself back to the present, his eyes flickering automatically up and down the darkened street. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Tell me this is just a random coincidence. Tell me the guy’s not there waiting for you.”
Gabriel raked his fingers back through his hair, suddenly wishing he’d never picked up the phone. “It’s just a random coincidence. The guy’s not there waiting for me.”
“Gabriel—”
“What kind of tatù does he have?”
There was a pause.
“Why does that matter if you’re not going to take the subway?”
“Julian.”
The psychic sighed. “Fire. And it’s pretty well-developed.”
Fire. I can work with that.
“Listen, are you sure you don’t want me to come?” Julian asked again, more insistent than he’d been in Iceland. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. I’m coming.”
There was sudden noise on the other end as he started gathering up his things.
“Julian,” Gabriel held up his spare hand, trying to reason with him, “did you see me losing to this guy?”
There was a reluctant pause before the psychic answered. “No, but you weren’t that great. Are you hurt or something?”
Gabriel’s hand automatically lifted to the new scar on his chest. “No, I’m fine. Better than fine, actually.” That same hand drifted higher, up to his cheek. “I’m actually...I’m actually better than I’ve been in a long time.”
Another pause.
“...in Brooklyn?”
“Don’t do that, Julian. Stay out of my head.”
He had enough people in there already.
“Fine.” Julian set down his bag with a sigh. He already had the thing packed. “Sorry.”
The Kerrigan gang didn’t fool around when it came to missed calls and dark visions of the future. They acted first and thought about the repercussions later.
“It’s cool.” Gabriel softened in spite of himself, touched by the concern. “And thanks for the head’s up, Jules. I’ll be careful.”
“Sure...” There was that hesitancy again, pronounced as ever. “Hey, have you talked to your sister lately? Angel thought she was going to see you the last time you were in London...”
It was Gabriel’s turn to sigh. He’d thought about that no less than a hundred times since he’d flown to New York. How he’d left his little sister in the lurch.
“No, I...I didn’t really have time. But I’ll see you guys soon,” he vowed. “The next time I’m in town—it’s my first stop.”
Julian wasn’t fooled. But, as there was little he could do half a continent away, he settled for sincere. “Come home, Gabriel. Please.” There was a pause. “We need you over here.”
Gabriel’s breathing hitched, and he bowed his head with a silent sigh.
“I will. I promise.” He squared his shoulders and made a concerted effort to lighten his tone. “And thanks again for the warning.”
“Take a cab.”
The two men hung up at the same time. Each feeling more unsettled than before they’d spoken. Each wondering what exactly was going to happen next.
Gabriel stared at the phone for a second before he turned it off and took off down the street. He could only hope that Julian wasn’t still watching. If the psychic didn’t like what he’d seen before, he certainly wasn’t going to like what he saw next...
Chapter 11
Faced with the subway on a Tuesday morning—sunny, cheerful, and bustling with scores of carefree people—Gabriel found himself lingering nervously on the top of the stairs. Faced with the subway on a Tuesday night—dark, sinister, and knowing full well that a supernaturally-equipped henchman was waiting to kill him—he had no problem taking the train.
After a quick glance around the street, he jogged silently down the steps into the darkness below. The metal doors slid open, then locked silently behind him. The video cameras turned their faces away as he moved swiftly down the hall. He didn’t want an audience for what he was about to do. And he didn’t want to explain to Carter how it had ended up on YouTube later.
The place seemed to be abandoned. Natasha didn’t live at a heavily trafficked stop, and there wasn’t a whisper of noise as Gabriel made his way down the tunnel. His shadow stretched up tall on the wall beside him—his only company as the faint light of the electronic ticket-takers shimmered in his eyes. Making them seem to glow in the dark.
Strange as it was, the faster he tried to run from it, the harder he tried to get away, a part of him still felt the most natural when he was prowling around in the shadows. Beyond the reach of sunlight with nothing but vengeance on his mind, a part of him still felt right at home.
You never feel more alive than with a gun pointed at your head. I had forgotten that.
A departing train rattled past as he ghosted down the last set of stairs, then came to a sudden pause. Waiting. Listening. No one got on, and no one got off. If someone was truly lying in wait, then they were already there. Biding their time. Hands at the ready.
Best not to keep them waiting.
At the last second he ripped something off the wall and took a step closer, bracing himself and tightening his grip. His pulse and breathing slowed and steadied. The adrenaline kicked in and the world sharpened into clear focus. It was now or never.
Then he stepped onto the platform. And that peaceful calm shattered into a million pieces.
A burst of blinding flames streaked towards him, but he lifted the fire extinguisher he’d ripped off the wall moments earlier and doused them in a cloud of white. There was a yell of confusion from somewhere in the midst, but before the man could fire again Gabriel took the honor himself, dousing his attacker head to toe in a freezing spray of sodium bicarbonate.
There was a muffled profanity, then all was quiet. A second later, a hulking man emerged from the wreckage. Seething with an anger made all the more intense by the fact that he looked like he’d recently escaped from a child’s bubble bath.
“Really?” He spat out a mouthful of foam. “A fire extinguisher?!”
Gabriel shrugged. “It seemed the logical approach.” The man took a step closer and he dropped the empty container, standing with his hands at the ready. “I wouldn’t.”
The man froze where he stood, staring at Gabriel the way one would stare at a rival predator. With a hint of fear. With a hint of hate. With a hint of respect.
“Stryder said you were good. He said this wouldn’t work.”
The lights above them flickered as the two men stared each other down.
“Stryder was right,” Gabriel replied impassively. His eyes locked on to the man while his other senses ranged out. Unless they were invisible and holding their breath, there was no one else in the tunnel. The two of them were alone. “You should have listened to him.”
Another wave of fire shot towards him, but it was easily deflected by a piece of metal that flew off the walls, catching the flames like a shield before falling to the floor with a
clatter.
“Nice ink,” the man said approvingly. “But it seems to me you’re being a little careful with yourself. Using it as a crutch.” He took a casual step closer. Followed by another. “That’s understandable, of course. You did just get shot in the chest.”
Without a word of warning he blitzed forward, moving astonishingly fast for a man of his size. Two massive hands reached out in the darkness, longing to wrap themselves around Gabriel’s throat. But by the time he reached him, Gabriel was no longer there.
A sharp kick caught him right in the ribs, winding him on the spot. Another kick sent him flying forward, skidding to a stop just inches away from the tracks. He shakily pushed to his feet and turned around, only to see Gabriel standing exactly where he had been before.
“You were saying?”
The man’s eyes widened and he wiped a smear of blood from his nose. “How did you do that? Are you some hybrid?”
Gabriel flashed a cold smile. “You flatter me.” His golden hair spilled to the side as he surveyed the man, like a lion taking stock of his prey. “So, if Stryder told you that this wouldn’t work, told you not to come...why are you here?”
“Because Stryder was wrong.” The man spat out a mouthful of blood, still unable to reconcile how the man in front of him had seemingly vanished into thin air. “I saw that bullet go into your chest. We all thought you were dead.” His dark eyes locked on to the front of Gabriel’s shirt, like he could still see it. “No way could you have survived that. You found a healer?”
Gabriel’s lips twitched up in another smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. At no point during the entire encounter had he moved more than a few feet. He wasn’t even out of breath. “Maybe I’m just immune to bullets.”
With a wild cry, the man launched himself forward once more—only to be thrown face-first into one of the cinderblock pillars holding up the tunnel. There was sharp crack followed by violent profanity as he peeled himself away, spitting out what looked suspiciously like a tooth.
“Stryder said you’d do that, too. Deflect.” The room might be spinning, but this man hadn’t been bred to give up. He’d been raised on the same tonic as Gabriel. To fight until you could not physically fight anymore. “At any rate, you didn’t look so immune to bullets when you were bleeding out on the floor.”
“Careful,” Gabriel’s eyes lit with a deadly little smile, “you’ll hurt my feelings.”
The man chuckled painfully. Then, in a move so casual it almost looked like an accident, he began walking in a slow orbit. Circling like a shark. “So, what happened anyway? You were supposed to be this great soldier, Cromfield’s right-hand man. You turned on him?”
Gabriel rotated where he stood, just as casually facing the man. It was a simple game, one he had played many times. One man baited while the other bided his time.
“I wouldn’t say I turned on him. We had a few disagreements...”
The man paused mid-step, staring with an incredulous, bloody smile. “You led a literal army against him, then cornered him in a dark room below the earth so you could steal his immortality and thrust a knife into his chest.”
“Like I said—we had our disagreements.” Gabriel ran a hand back through his golden hair, quickly tiring of their little game. “Besides, I had help. Peer pressure is a dangerous thing.”
The man laughed again, eyeing Gabriel with begrudging admiration despite wanting to kill him. “That’s right, all those pretty little friends you made back in England. Tell me,” his lips twisted up in a wicked smile, “what makes you think that Stryder isn’t going to go after them just for all the aggravation you caused? What makes you think he isn’t headed there now?”
It was a vile threat. One delivered with just the right amount of menace and calm. An admirable performance, and a terrifying sentiment. But it couldn’t have fallen on worse ears.
Gabriel threw back his head with a chilling laugh. One he had learned from their former employer. One that was somehow far more effective than an open threat.
“If there’s anything I’m less worried about than you hurting me it’s you hurting my friends.” He laughed again at the mere prospect. “Even by thinking it, you just put yourself on the radar of some very dangerous people. People who will have a lot less tolerance for your threats than I do. That being said, they’re always up for a little practice.” He pulled out his cell phone with a thoughtful frown, scrolling through his contacts. “Who would you like me to call first? The guy who can see the future? Or the girl who can summon lightning from the sky?”
The man’s face soured as he took a small step back.
“Oh, I know! How about the girl who can do all of the above? Her specialty is fire, so maybe she wouldn’t mind giving you a few tips before dispatching you from this earth...”
“You are seriously messed up.”
Gabriel’s face lightened in surprise as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. That was a little harsh for assassination banter. “If you’re hoping that talking is going to extend your life expectancy, you’re going about it in a very strange way—”
“I’m serious.” For a split-second the man dropped his threatening posture, staring at Gabriel the way any forty-year-old man would look at a guy in his early twenties. “It’s not your fault, kid, but you have to know it’s true. Those people up there,” he pointed to the ceiling, “the ones walking around with their heads in the clouds—you have to know we’re not like them. Not anymore. You and me, we’re down here now. What are you trying to prove otherwise?”
More than any pain or threat, it was this little piece of honesty that got under Gabriel’s skin. A muscle twitched in the back of his jaw, and he found himself actually responding when he would normally have just ended things and walked away.
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said quietly. “People can change.”
“Bull! Tell me you didn’t come here for that!” The man laughed out loud, spraying the floor in front of him with blood. “Tell me you didn’t come here for some sort of redemption!”
That muscle twitched again, but Gabriel kept perfectly calm. “Why?” he asked with a hard smile. “Would that be too predictable?”
“It would be too disappointing!” the man fired back, the laughter fading slowly from his grizzled, murderous face. “You were a legend! At least, you could have been. The great Gabriel Alden. Why do you think I came here tonight? I wanted to be the one to take you down!”
“And you’re doing a great job so far,” Gabriel said seriously as the man dripped a pool of blood onto the tile. “Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
“A guy like that comes looking for absolution?!” The man spit on the ground. “Orders is orders, kid! You don’t have anything to be apologizing for—”
This time, it was Gabriel who made the first move. Somersaulting through the air in a magnificent blur of gold and black. The man had time enough to see the kick coming, but didn’t have enough time to move away. In the end all he could do was stand there, slack-jawed and wincing, as ‘the great Gabriel Alden’ kicked him right across the face.
There was a sickening thud as he hit the ground. A far lighter one as Gabriel landed beside him. For a moment, it looked like that was going to be the end of it. The pupils of Gabriel’s green eyes dilated with deadly focus as the muscles in his arms and chest contracted as one.
But, at the last possible second, he changed his mind—glancing down with a look of disgust before walking away. He didn’t want to see this moment later in his memories. He didn’t want Natasha to see it either. There had been enough bloodshed in his life, and no matter what this deviant might say it was something he had to atone for. Everybody had to start somewhere.
“Get back here! Where do you think you’re going?!” the man called after him, spitting out another mouthful of blood as he pushed dizzily to his feet. “We’re not finished yet!”
Gabriel never slowed down. “Stryder knew this wouldn’t work, but he let you com
e after me anyway. That means he values your life less than the argument it would have taken to keep you there. If you mean that little to him, imagine how little your life means to me.”
A handful of yellow flames whizzed past his ear, missing him by inches.
“Yeah? And what about the lives of the people around you?” He laughed wickedly as Gabriel came to a pause. “Not too many tatùs over here in Brooklyn. You walk out that door, you think I’m going to have a hard time tracking them down? It would be my pleasure—”
There was a terrifying ripping noise as the metal railing beside the tracks pulled straight out of the ground, hovering high in the air, and smashing with deadly force into the tile where the man had been lying just moments before. But he wasn’t lying there anymore. He was racing across the platform, his three- hundred pounds of force barreling straight at his target.
Gabriel turned without an ounce of emotion, bracing himself at the ready, but this time the man was intentionally clumsy, using his opponent’s skill against him. In the split-second it took Gabriel to change gears, the man struck him violently across the face.
Hard enough to draw blood. Hard enough to crack bones.
Gabriel stepped back with a soft gasp, lifting a hand to his temple before pulling it back again, wet with blood. An involuntary grimace clouded his handsome face, but when he looked back up he wasn’t particularly angry. He was annoyed.
“So...” The man flashed a savage grin, showing a giant hole where three of his teeth were supposed to be. “He’s only human after all.”
Yellow flames began creeping up his arms, but Gabriel didn’t have any intention of letting him use them. His patience had finally worn out, and he raised his own hands instead.
The game was over. They had reached the end.
“Let me show you how this is actually done,” he said quietly, lifting two fingers into the air. “Since you failed to do it to me.”
The walls around them began to rattle and, for the first time, the adrenaline rush that had convinced Stryder’s biggest goon that he could take out Cromfield’s greatest lieutenant faltered.