by Krista Walsh
“Please, Allegra. I know you say you don’t want to get involved, but this will be the last favor I ask. I need to get a better handle on this situation if I’m going to fix it, and I honestly feel that talking to John will clear the waters. Will you help me do that?”
Silence stretched between them as she considered his request, her expression just shy of a frown, the gold specks in her eyes flitting lazily across her irises. Finally, she said, “I do not understand why I’m agreeing, but all right. I will go with you.”
Relief soothed the serpent of uncertainty she’d left lingering between them, and Gabe grinned. “Thank you. I’ll owe you one.”
“You most certainly will.” She leaned in close enough for him to catch the soft brown sugar scent of her body wash. The gold flecks filled her eyes and her lips pulled back to reveal a hint of her fangs as her mouth eased into a sly smile. “Although we might never have our night together, Gabriel, it would be a shame to see you get caught in John’s web.”
12
Allegra refused to say anything more until after Gabe went home and got some sleep.
“You look ready to fall over,” she’d said. “If we are to meet with John, your mind needs to be sharp and quick. Come here for noon tomorrow and we will go.”
So he followed her orders, went home, and stretched out on his futon fully dressed, his comforter pulled over his head to keep out the light and the draft coming in through the window.
Given his level of fatigue, he thought he would simply pass out, but as soon as his mind slipped into sleep, nightmares followed.
He stood in the living room of his old home. The television was playing a silent cartoon that he knew he’d just been watching. Something had drawn him away. He called for his mother, but no answer came back to him.
How could it? She’s been dead for nine years.
His lucid mind hung on to that detail, even as an uncomfortable coil of anxiety made it difficult to remember he was dreaming.
He wandered the empty house, looking for whatever had brought him out of the joy of his cartoons. When nothing in the house stood out for him, he stepped outside —
— and his foot slipped into the river. He grabbed the door to pull himself back before the current dragged him away. The water churned with white caps around the lifeless, accusing boulders that thrust out of the middle of the rush.
His grip on the door slipped and he jerked to catch himself. With his heart in his throat, he looked down to find that the house was teetering on the bank, about to slide into the rapids. He tried to edge back inside to balance the weight of the house and keep the foundation on solid footing, but the front step he stood on tipped and crumbled.
He grabbed on to the remnants of the wooden slats as he fell to the waist in the deep water, its frozen fingers pulling at his clothes. He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see what he knew would happen next, but when Gabe heard his name carried on the air, he had to look. To keep his eyes closed would be to deny the person who needed him, and he couldn’t do it a second time.
He looked down at the roiling water. His brother’s mouth was open in a silent scream, air bubbling out of his mouth to ripple on the surface as he was pulled downstream. Gabe released his hold on the house and dove in after him, reaching blindly for Rick’s arm so he could pull him back to the riverbank. He was older now. Stronger. This time he could help.
The cold gripped his lungs, and they ached with the pressure of holding his breath.
His squinted into the darkness of the water and realized his sunglasses had drifted away. Rick stared up at him, and for a brief moment, their gazes met. Gabe screamed out, icy water filling his mouth, as he helplessly watched his brother turn to stone. He tightened his grip around Rick’s solid wrist, strained to keep hold until sweat poured over his brow, but the weight was too much. Gabe had to let go or be pulled under himself. His lungs burning with his held breath, he relaxed his fingers, and the statue of Rick slipped deeper under the surface until it disappeared in the depths. The last glimpse Gabe had of him was of his outstretched hand.
Freed from the weight, Gabe swung his arms and kicked his legs to break the surface, but the current kept pulling him under, dragging him closer to the rocks. Along the current came a sweet voice, a lilting tune that grabbed hold of his heart and told him to sleep. He struggled to get clear of both water and song, but he smashed his head against the stone and stars burst in his vision.
He opened his eyes to find himself facing the corner of his coffee table leg. His head ached above his eyebrow, and when he brushed his hand across the skin, his fingers came away bloody. He braced his hand beneath him and his palm met with the cold floorboards.
No river pulling him under, just the embarrassment of falling out of bed.
With a grunt, he pulled himself onto the broken springs of the futon mattress and shifted himself to face away from the window. The light had grown brighter over however long he’d been down, but he wasn’t ready to face the day. He closed his eyes.
His muscles ached from his real-life dip in the river and his battle with the immortal soul-eater. His hips were stiff and his hands stung where the skin had been torn by the ice. The siren’s face hovered behind his eyelids, the flesh on her cheeks peeled away to reveal the monster beneath the perfection. Again Gabe opened his eyes to stare at the dull brown cloth of his futon cover.
He needed to sleep, but too many thoughts buzzed through his head, and the quiet did nothing to chase them away.
Although he knew it would waste fuel, he switched on the generator and allowed the white noise of the motor to fill the space. Once more pulling the comforter over his head, he closed his eyes.
This time the dreams let him be.
***
When he woke again, his body still ached, but his mind felt more prepared to sort through whatever John Deverill was willing to offer him.
He ran through the questions he planned to ask. He’d already come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t hand the responsibility of the siren over to John — partly because of Allegra’s concerns, and partly because the jinni had been right: Gabe’s sense of duty outweighed his desire to get as far from Ligeia as possible. If everything went well during the meeting, he would hopefully have the answers he needed to face her and win.
The sooner he put the siren to rest, the sooner his memories could disappear into the darkness with her.
He hoped.
As he got up, he checked his phone. Ten new text messages from Percy asking him to call. Gabe hesitated, then set his phone back on the table. He would deal with Percy after he got home, when he had more than half the information to share. It was going to be a long conversation.
He put on his sunglasses and decided to leave the generator on long enough to make himself a pot of coffee. It had been almost a week since the rich smell of coffee grounds had filled his apartment, and the aroma was a merciful replacement for the heavy odors of gasoline and dampness.
Gabe poured himself a mug and drank it black, afraid of the state of the cream in his fridge.
He hopped into the cold shower to wash his hair, then pulled on his usual jeans and T-shirt with his thick wool sweater over top. After smoothing down his hair, he glanced in the mirror to make sure he looked like a presentable investigator — one who meant business when he asked questions.
As soon as he was ready, he closed his eyes and pictured the white-and-burgundy wallpaper outside Allegra’s apartment, then rifted into the hallway.
He knocked once, but heard nothing within. His insides tensed at the thought that she had forgotten or changed her mind. Although he was prepared to go by himself, he didn’t look forward to navigating the conversation with John on his own.
Just as he raised his hand to knock a second time, the door opened and Allegra appeared. She was wearing a tight wool skirt that came up to her waist with a pink blouse tucked into it. A chain of simple pearls draped around her neck.
She crossed her a
rms and scanned him over, then gave a brusque shake of her head.
“No,” she said. “Not right at all.”
Gabe glanced down at his choice of attire and saw nothing wrong with it.
Allegra grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. She didn’t let go until they stood in her bedroom. Gabe gawked at the size of the walk-in closet on the far wall, with its bright pot lights shining down over racks of shoes and pressed outfits. One side of the closet showed a collection of men’s clothing, and Gabe couldn’t help but wonder if they were salvaged from Allegra’s victims. His stomach turned, but he worked to keep his expression blank.
It would hardly be polite to show judgment for her lifestyle after she had offered to help him resolve a greater threat. But after he dealt with Ligeia, he would have to reconsider his alliance with Allegra.
“Do not be so concerned, Gabriel. The clothing belonged to my brother. His taste was so fabulous, I did not have the heart to give everything away.”
A wave of relief washed over him, followed by a creeping sense of discomfort over the idea that he would still be wearing a dead man’s clothes.
Allegra dropped her hand to his and tugged him in front of the mirror at the back of the closet.
“Take off your shirt,” she said. He frowned at her, and she rolled her gaze to the ceiling. “I have no ulterior motives, Gabriel. Please do as I ask.”
He raised an eyebrow as he considered, then accepted that clothes were much more the model’s wheelhouse than his own. He tugged his T-shirt and sweater over his head, revealing the scarred muscles underneath.
Beside him, Allegra froze, the shirt and jacket she’d grabbed forgotten in her arms. She was staring at him in the mirror, her gaze locked on his chest.
“That is quite the story written in those scars,” she said.
She shifted the clothes to one arm and ran her fingers over the four thick lines across his stomach. Gabe shivered under her touch.
“Many stories,” he said. “Few of them fond memories.”
The ones she touched had been from his fight with the hellhound. Beneath them were the fainter scars from his fight with the river the day his brother had died. His Gorgon blood had given him the strength to pull himself free, but it hadn’t prevented the river rocks from tearing him apart before he managed to escape back to shore.
“Here,” Allegra said. She pulled her hand away and handed him a light blue shirt and dark gray jacket. “Put these on. John will take you far more seriously if you look like you’ve stepped out of a magazine cover.”
“I’m not wearing a tie,” he said, noting the red strip in her hands.
Her brow furrowed and she opened her mouth, no doubt to argue, but said instead, “Very well. Fortunately, your handsome facial structure and broad shoulders should make up for the incomplete attire.”
She arched an eyebrow with a smile and set to work buttoning the shirt after Gabe pulled it over his shoulders. Antony had been a bit narrower in the chest, making the seams strain against Gabe’s muscles, but the jacket hid the worst of it.
Allegra’s fingers lingered near the bottom button over his belt. Then she smoothed down the jacket lapels and stepped back.
“That will do. You look as though you could be one of my modeling partners.” Her smirk grew. “I do not suppose you might consider a career change?”
Gabe chortled. “I doubt I would get away with wearing my sunglasses for every shoot. Or is that the in look these days?”
Allegra shrugged in apparent regret. “I believe the odd accidental statue would be worth the risk, but as you wish. Are you ready to go?”
He drew back his shoulders and asked, “Where are we headed?”
Allegra stepped over to her window and frowned down at the street. “Nowhere quickly, it would seem. We will have to walk up to Main Street if we want any chance of finding a taxi.”
Gabe grinned. “I can help with that. What part of town?”
“The rich part,” Allegra replied, still looking outside. “On the far reaches of Birchwood.”
Gabe brought the affluent section of town to mind, picturing all of its ostentatious mansions and gaudy topiaries. He’d only been there a handful of times, but thought he remembered it well enough to transport them without getting lost. Holding the image in his mind, he cut a doorway through the air.
The reflection of golden light struck the side of Allegra’s face, drawing out the gold highlights mixed into her thick brown hair and the golden flecks in her eyes. She turned on her heel, and her lips parted in awe.
Gabe stretched his hand out to her. She focused on him, eying him warily. “Where does it go?”
“Where does it look like?”
She stepped closer and peered through the doorway at the first large house down the street.
“That would be the correct area,” she said, her eyes wide.
“You’d better get your coat, then,” Gabe said. “It’s windy out there.”
She did as he suggested, then came back and took his hand. He watched her as they stepped through the doorway into the deserted, snow-bound street.
“I have never experienced anything like it,” she said with a breathless laugh. “So warm and tingly.” She stretched her hand through the rift and closed her eyes at the sensation.
“Careful,” Gabe said, drawing her hand back to the snowy street. “One of the first lessons my father taught me when he showed me how to use the rifts — we aren’t meant to stand in two places at once. Straddle the rift too long and you run the risk of driving yourself mad or losing a limb.”
He remembered how he’d felt stepping through his first rift, how much he’d loved the warmth. Rifting was a skill he shared with Rick and his father, making it more special to him than his Gorgon sight, which no one in his family had inherited in generations. With the rifts, he’d felt like a member of the family instead of an outcast.
Allegra cast him a sly sidelong glance. “What if I wanted to travel to that in-between place? Is it possible to rest there for a time? I imagine I would enjoy a number of new experiences lost in magic such as that.”
Gabe chuckled. “I wouldn’t recommend it. Especially not without an escort. The Fae don’t mind our own people passing through, but strangers run the risk of being lost forever in vivid illusion.”
“I never said I’d go alone,” Allegra purred, and dropped her heavy eyelashes in a wink.
Gabe cleared his throat and sealed the rift, leaving them on the empty street. He didn’t want to break it to her that with his mixed blood, he wouldn’t be allowed there without an escort either.
Allegra pointed in the direction of John’s house and they set off. The snow crunched under their boots, but the weather wasn’t as severe as it was closer to the harbor. The streets had been plowed, and the banks on both sides of the road reached as high as Gabe’s waist instead of his shoulder. The wind was still sharp and cold, but it didn’t catch the lightly falling flakes with as much vehemence.
“Is Ligeia’s power not as strong this far into town?” he asked.
“It is possible,” said Allegra. “In my opinion, her effect on the weather should not be as overpowering as it is to begin with. Something must be fueling her abilities. It is also possible that John is offsetting her magic with some of his own. He might not be at full strength, but he is a powerful man, Gabriel, and not one to be trifled with. Stay wary.”
“You keep dropping these less-than-subtle hints,” he said. “Should I not be dealing with this guy?”
“I would not, but that is my own opinion. You may use this meeting to form your own.”
Gabe continued to stare at her, hoping to wear her down into giving him a more concrete answer.
When she noticed, she released a sharp huff of impatience and brushed her hair behind her ear. “He is not out to cause harm, if that is what you mean. But he will not be easy to treat with, either. Jinn never agree to anything unless they can use the agreement to their own purposes. When they p
resent a deal, they twist their words to make the offer sound appealing for all parties. Only when the person walks away and the deal is complete does he realize he has offered his soul in the bargain.”
Gabe grimaced around the tickle of anxiety that awoke in his guts. “Sounds like a stand-up guy.”
“No matter what he offers, my suggestion is that you do not accept it immediately. Even if what he asks of you sounds insignificant. If you are not particular to the detail of following through on your end of the deal, it is possible he will renege on his. Depending on what you have agreed to, that might prove dangerous.”
Gabe bowed his head in a nod, and Allegra steered them up a driveway toward a white three-story mansion. He drew to a halt and stared up at the monstrosity of gold gilt accents around the doors and windows. Four marble columns held the roof up over the stretch of curved porch. Snow-topped golden foxes on marble pedestals lined the walkway to the front doors.
Gabe set the image of the house beside what he remembered of the man and thought they matched perfectly. Both reeked of influence and power.
“This is quite the place,” he said.
Allegra grimaced. “The inside is worse.”
Gabe glanced at her. “Where did you meet this guy?”
“I came to an after-party here following one of my modeling shoots. I’m all for luxury and expensive tastes, but Deverill’s extravagance borders on gaudy.” She wrinkled her nose, then smoothed her face into a neutral expression. “But come. We do not want to inflate his already large ego by gawking too obviously.”
Gabe schooled his expression into his familiar blank stare. He had learned long ago that the appearance of confidence and detachment meant more than the reality of it.
Allegra nodded in approval and looped her hand under his arm. They headed up the walkway and climbed the steps to the porch.
Before Gabe could knock, David opened the door. Today he wore a white shirt and tails, his beefy hands hidden in white cotton gloves.