Rituals

by Kelley Armstrong

"There's nothing wrong with taking a moment to whine before you focus on the problem."

  "When Rose said she'd handle it, I was glad. I wanted that. I wanted to just say yes, please, do that. And it felt like cowardice."

  I reached to take his hand and then stopped, remembering what had happened in the fun house. But he looked over, meeting my gaze, and then took my hand, firmly and deliberately, wrapping his fingers around it as he said, "It's all right."

  He didn't mean it was all right to hold his hand. He meant that whatever I saw--whatever memories this might drag back to the surface--that was all right.

  He leaned over, his lips going to my ear as he said, "Thank you. For everything." He shifted until his face was right in front of mine and again said, "Thank you, Olivia."

  I moved to kiss him, just kiss him, don't think about it, can't think about it, brush my lips against his. If it was quick, I could say it was nothing, just a peck between friends. I leaned in, and he moved forward and--

  The gate squealed open. Gabriel only eased back and let out a low growl of annoyance.

  "Yes, Ida," he said. "We've returned. However--"

  He stopped, and I looked over to see the woman from this morning.

  Gabriel's lips parted. "Sea--"

  He stopped himself. But I knew. Seeing his expression, I knew.

  "Oh, am I interrupting something?" She looked up at the house. "I'm guessing this is your place, Eden?"

  "Her name is Olivia."

  Seanna continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I remember this house from when I was a kid. We'd dare each other to sneak back here, with all the weird statues." She glanced toward the pond, surrounded by fae and cryptid statuary. "Huh, they're still here. Nice."

  Her nose wrinkled, like a sullen teenager's, making sure everyone knew she was not impressed.

  "They used to call it the witch's house," she said as she walked toward us. "Kids said Old Lady Carew's ghost still haunted it, and if you saw her, she'd burn your eyes out. They'd dare each other five bucks to come back. I made a lot of money off those morons. Never saw a ghost, though. Old Lady Carew wasn't a witch. Just a crazy old bat muttering and ranting about omens and portents." She looked at me. "You're a Carew, right, Eden?"

  "I am," I said evenly.

  "So she's a relative of yours. Did you buy the place for sentimental value? Or because you belong here, in your crazy relative's house?"

  I laughed. I couldn't help it. Gabriel glanced over, alarmed.

  "Seriously, Seanna?" I said. "Is that the best you can do? Try again."

  She slowed her approach.

  "No, really," I said. "Give me a real zinger. You can do it."

  Her mouth set in a way that reminded me of her son's...and yet it didn't. Gabriel's lips would compress only for a moment, an involuntary show of emotion. Hers stayed pressed together until she was scowling.

  Gabriel had suggested Seanna wasn't the brightest bulb. That hers was only a feral intelligence--the Walsh survival instinct cranked to eleven. I saw the truth of that as her scowl deepened.

  After a moment, she said, "So how are your parents, Eden? Rotting away in prison for butchering eight people?"

  I burst into a peal of laughter. Beside me, Gabriel snorted, and Seanna's head jerked up, as if this was a sound she'd never heard from her son. When I looked over, he wasn't quite smiling, but his eyes had warmed and he'd relaxed back in the love seat.

  "The conviction was recently amended to six," he said. "And Olivia has heard that particular insult before. After the hundredth time, it does start to lose its sting."

  He pushed to his feet. Seanna looked up, and something gratifyingly like consternation flashed over her face as she realized exactly how big her son had gotten.

  As Gabriel advanced, Seanna steeled herself not to step back.

  See? He's not a child anymore. I'd love to see you try shoving him into a cubbyhole now, Seanna. Love to see you try shoving him at all.

  "I presume you want something, Seanna?" he said, and there was no edge of warning there, just a matter-of-fact tone, as if she hadn't been gone for fifteen years, but only headed out for cigarettes last week.

  He stopped far enough away that he wasn't looming or menacing, letting her look up into his eyes and see no fear to feed on.

  "I need--" she began.

  "Money?" he finished. "Yes, I'm sure you do." He took out his cell phone. "If I can get your bank account number, I'll transfer you some right now. Before you leave." He paused. "No, you don't have a bank account, do you?"

  "I don't trust banks."

  "Yes, yes. I don't have checks on me. Olivia, would you mind writing one for Seanna? Ten thousand, please. I'll wire you the money immediately."

  "Ten thousand?" Seanna said. "Did you really think it would be that easy?"

  His cheek twitched. He'd hoped it would be. I know he did.

  But he only said, "I'm offering you ten thousand to leave and allow me to continue with my life. If you walk away without that check, don't expect it to increase."

  "I need a place to stay."

  "Ten thousand will more than pay for a hotel room."

  "I was thinking more of a high-rise condo. Maybe one just north of the Loop."

  Another twitch.

  She held out her hand. "Just give me the keys, Gabriel. You'll get them back after we've come to an agreement. Until then, I'm sure your girlfriend won't mind you staying here."

  "You are not staying--"

  "I'll stay wherever I want, Gabriel."

  "No, Seanna," said a voice behind her, the gate half open. "You won't."

  The gate opened, and Patrick strolled in.

  Seanna stared at him--her son's father...looking even younger than her son.

  "You," Seanna breathed. "No, it..." A sharp shake of her head before she regrouped, demanding, "Who are you?"

  "Really? You've forgotten me? After all the fun times we had together? I've held up pretty good, haven't I? Which is more than I can say for you. Really more than I can say for you." He shuddered.

  I shot Patrick a look, but he only tossed me his usual devil-may-care grin.

  "Come along, Seanna," he said. "We're going to leave the kids alone."

  "You--you can't be--"

  "But I am. You know I am. Either that or you're the one going crazy, not Liv. Yes, I was eavesdropping. I do that. I thought I'd let the kids have some fun. Good show, Liv. You seem to have discovered Seanna's fatal flaw. She's a fucking idiot."

  I wasn't sure what shocked me more--the profanity or the undiluted venom behind it. Hate shone from Patrick's eyes, the kind that chilled the marrow in my bones and reminded me that, however charming Patrick might seem, a bocan wasn't a fae you wanted to cross.

  There's more to this story than I thought.

  "Come along, Seanna. Let's go chat. Catch up. It's been so long."

  He said those last words with a bite that sparked genuine fear in Seanna's eyes. I'd always presumed Patrick had seduced Seanna. He'd suggested as much, happily taking credit for impregnating a teenaged girl. Now I saw the looks on their faces and knew that wasn't the story. Not at all.

  As he took her arm, she said, "I won't go anywhere with--"

  "Yes, actually, you will." His grip tightened, and he met her gaze and said slowly, "You are coming with me, Seanna," as he worked his fae compulsion.

  When he started leading her to the gate, she didn't resist. Patrick tossed back a jaunty, "Ciao, kids," and escorted her out.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The gate had closed behind Patrick at least ninety seconds ago, and Gabriel and I were still exactly where we'd been when he walked out. We stood there waiting for that gate to swing open and Seanna to march back in. Finally, I checked the latch, as if I could somehow bar re-entry.

  Talk to Gabriel.

  Don't talk to Gabriel--find him something to do.

  Help him compose his plan to deal with Seanna.

  No, avoid the topic of Seanna, and get him doing work instead.<
br />
  I turned to see him on his phone, typing something in. As I walked back, he looked up.

  "Can I trouble you for a coffee?" he asked.

  "A...?"

  "Coffee. Please."

  "Sure..."

  "Thank you. I'll be in momentarily."

  It might seem that Gabriel was so traumatized by this reunion with his mother that he wanted me to go into the house so he could break down in private. Yet it was also possible that having seen the mother he thought was dead, the most pressing thing on his mind really was rectifying a late afternoon caffeine slump.

  As I stepped onto the porch, I snuck a glance back at him. He was still typing, but his face was relaxed, no sign of tension in his shoulders. Yep, he might actually just want coffee.

  I went inside, and I'd just begun filling a mug when the back door opened.

  Gabriel stepped in and said, "Do you have travel mugs?"

  "Uh, sure. Are you...leaving?"

  "We are. The trunk on the Maserati is quite small, as I recall. Correct?"

  Again, I thought I couldn't possibly have heard right, but said, just to clarify, "Yes, the Spyder has a very small trunk."

  "And not enough space behind the front seats for both Lloergan and luggage."

  "Umm..."

  "Do you mind letting Rose borrow your car for a few days?"

  "Uh, no, but Lloergan will fit behind the Spyder's seats fine, and I don't need to put anything in the trunk--"

  "I'll switch cars now," he said, taking my keys from the rack. "I'll bring Lloergan back with me. That should give you time to pack a bag. Three days' worth. Casual clothing, the sort for hiking and whatnot."

  "Umm..."

  "Yes, I know. You've pointed out that I lack such clothing myself. However, I have rectified that. It's at my condo, which we'll need to stop by on the way."

  "On the way where exactly?"

  "It's a surprise. Put my coffee into a travel mug, please. We'll stop by that place you like in the city and get you a mocha for the drive."

  And with that, he strode through the parlor and out the front door before I could say another word.

  --

  We'd stopped at Gabriel's condo for his bag, which was already packed, suggesting this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment trip. After we got my mocha, he finally explained that this was why he'd asked me to keep the weekend free--he'd planned a weekend getaway. A surprise for me, because I'd been working so hard lately.

  Under any other circumstances, I'd have been thrilled. But as it was, I sat in the passenger seat, my mocha untouched, Lloergan in the back seat giving the occasional whimper, as if picking up my unease.

  "I'm not running away from her," Gabriel said when we were outside the city.

  "Even if you were, I wouldn't blame--"

  "I'd already made plans."

  "I know."

  "What I'm doing, Olivia, is ensuring Seanna does not interfere with my plans. I had no appointments tomorrow that could not be easily rescheduled, so I am beginning our trip early, knowing that if I stay, this situation will deteriorate and come tomorrow night, when we were supposed to leave, we won't be able to get away." His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "You need a break. We both need a break." He paused. "I want this."

  He blurted the last part, as if getting the words out before he could decide against them.

  I want this.

  Three words that most people have no problem saying. Gabriel himself practically lives by those words.

  No, that's not true. He's lived by the words "I need this." I require this, first for survival and then for security, a series of goals he needed to achieve to relax, secure in the knowledge that nothing could send him back where he'd been.

  In the six months I'd been at the law firm, I'd gone on two vacations with Ricky. Gabriel rarely took a day off, and I suspect he's never actually been on a holiday. I know he doesn't own a passport. Maybe now, seeing me take vacations, he thought, You know, I could do with some of that. But one of the reasons I suspect he'd never done it before was that he had no one to travel with. So now, having decided he'd like a weekend trip, he framed it as a surprise getaway for me. This wasn't Gabriel fleeing Seanna--it was Gabriel safeguarding his weekend away.

  "You're right," I said. "I could use a break. Rest and refocus."

  "Exactly."

  He drove another couple of miles in silence and then said, "That shot to the leg doesn't seem to have slowed Seanna down."

  "So should I aim higher next time?"

  He chuckled and relaxed his grip on the wheel. "No. I was only raising the subject to say that, while I'm not averse to the thought of her being shot, I'd rather you didn't do it again. She'll be quick to press charges next time, and I don't want you dealing with that."

  "I won't. She just pissed me off."

  "Something she said?"

  I made a noise in my throat.

  "She insulted you?"

  "Not--" I stopped myself, but it was too late. He'd laid the trap and I'd fallen straight into it.

  "She insulted me," he said.

  "She pissed me off."

  "I won't pretend that I don't find that more gratifying than I should, but I will ask you not to let her get to you. I'm quite accustomed to her insults." He handed me my mocha. "Drink up. We'll be there soon."

  --

  When we arrived at our destination, I was out of the car before it even stopped, Lloergan shoving through the seat gap to follow me, alarmed by my haste. I gave her a quick pat and then dashed up the steps and around to the back porch, and when Gabriel found me, I was leaning on the railing, gazing out at the lake.

  I grinned over at him. "Does it only get cell phone reception on Tuesdays, if I hold my phone just right?"

  "With any luck, it doesn't get cell phone reception at all."

  "I can make sure of that." I took mine out, shut it off, and then raced down the back steps and started crossing the rocks.

  "Careful, Olivia. It's slippery."

  "Then you'll have to come and keep me safe," I called back. "After you change into those jeans you claim to have bought. Come on, Lloe. Time to explore."

  CHAPTER NINE

  A few months ago, Gabriel and I had sat on the shores of Lake Michigan and talked about our dream vacation homes, places we'd go to get away from the city and Cainsville and all they entailed. Mine had been a cabin on the lake, where I could read and relax on the deck. That's what Gabriel had found for me.

  After dinner, we sat on the back deck, watching the waves. The sun had dropped, taking any warmth with it. We had a fire roaring inside and the chalet radiators jacked up, with the rear windows and door wide open to let that heat flood out. We sat right on the deck, in a nest of every blanket and pillow we could find. And we had wine. An amazing--and very expensive--Bordeaux, probably another untouched gift from a client.

  Between the fire and the blankets and the wine, we kept warm through the first hour of conversation, but as we entered the second, Lloergan had retreated indoors to lie by the fire, and I could no longer hide my chattering teeth.

  "Let's go in," Gabriel said.

  "I don't want to."

  "If you're--"

  "I'll be fine," I said as I tugged the blanket higher. I managed to stop my teeth from chattering...only to start shivering convulsively.

  "Here," he said, and held out the blanket he was using.

  I shook my head and shifted closer to pull it over both of us. He put his arm out, motioning for me to come closer still, and I didn't need a second invitation. I sat beside him. Then I inched closer, as casually as I could, chatting and sipping wine. He put his arm around me, and a few minutes later I was snuggled up against his side, his arm around me.

  "Better?" he said.

  The pile of blankets trapped our body heat and made it very toasty. But if I admitted I was fine, he might shift aside. So I nodded, chattering my teeth a little, which gave me the excuse to snuggle closer still. He tugged me over until I was
curled up in his lap, his arms around me, and I decided I heartily approved of this "lakeside cabin in December" plan.

  If I gave another shiver, it wasn't the cold, but the fact I was snuggled up with Gabriel, feeling the heat of his body, smelling the scent--his scent--that permeated his bed when he would insist I sleep there, and I'd wake from dreams I didn't want to have, not while I'd been with Ricky. Dreams that I was allowed to have now, even if they left me aching and torn between hoping that one day they'd no longer be dreams and fearing they always would.

  When I shivered, he mistook it for a lingering chill. His arms tightened around me, and he lowered his face to my hair, and I could feel his breath and the pound of his heart, and all I could think was this.

  This, this, this.

  This is what I want. This is more than I ever thought I could have with him, and I want to stay just like this for as long as I can, not breathe, not move a muscle in case the buzz of the wine passes and he pulls away.

  I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of his breathing, and then I smelled wildflowers. Smelled wildflowers and felt the heat of the sun and arms around me, and I was thinking the same things. Don't breathe, don't move, or you'll spook. He'll realize what he's doing and it'll be over.

  "You're certain you're all right?" It was Gwynn's voice, young. "You scared the life out of me, Mati, seeing you tumble like that."

  No. I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed the vision aside.

  I like you just fine, Gwynn. I like those little glimpses into what was, those touchstones with the past. But right now, I want Gabriel.

  One last mental shove, and I smelled the lake and Gabriel.

  There. That's better.

  I snuggled in, and he rubbed his thumb over my cheek.

  "Still cold," he said, and tugged the blanket higher.

  "At least I didn't fall in the water again," I said. "Now that was cold."

  He went still, and I replayed my words, wondering if there was any other way to interpret them.

  "The river, I mean," I said. "When we fell in the river."

  I shivered for dramatic effect, but he stayed tense, his breathing slowed, his arms stiff around me.

  Damn it. What did I do now?

  "I...have a question," he said.

  Now I was the one tensing. "Okay."

  "If a thing occurred, and one party was not aware that it occurred, and the other party did not intend for it to occur, should the second party admit that it did? If the thing is a thing that may cause discomfort? The answer, I believe, should be no, that the second party should not admit to it. But if the second party worries that somehow the first party will find out, and in keeping the secret, the second party will seem complicit in the action, which will cause additional discomfort..."