by Lizzy Ford
“Welcome back, Andre,” he whispered. “A little reminder. I brought you back. I pretty much own you, at least temporarily.”
Andre sat, steady gaze on Gabriel. Gabe knew he must look half-wild: drenched, muddied and sizzling with power.
“It looks like a few things changed while I was gone,” the Immortal said with the calmness Gabriel remembered always admiring.
Gabe nodded. Soul power rippled through him and with it, the sensation of the invisible shackles he’d worn his entire adult life melting away. He was alive after a lifetime banished to the shadows. Things would be different from here on out.
Like Deidre, he was going to live on his terms.
“I need a drink and some clothes,” Andre said.
Chuckling, Gabe stood and offered the Immortal a hand.
Rhyn, can you drop by the lake and bring a couple sets of clothes? Gabe asked his friend.
On my way. Rhyn replied.
“What’s it like being dead-dead?” Gabriel asked.
“Much more peaceful than being alive,” Andre replied, looking around. He sighed. “If I’m here, it’s not because the world is operating smoothly.” His French accent rolled off his deep voice.
“Not in the least.”
“Holy fuck.” Rhyn’s curse made Gabriel turn. The half-demon paused a few feet away, and Gabe saw the emotion cross his eyes.
The eldest of the seven brothers, Andre was the only who supported Rhyn’s petition to be recognized by the Immortals who hated the half-demon. Andre was rendered dead-dead while Rhyn was stuck in Hell, killed by the same brother who held Rhyn prisoner.
Rhyn recovered quickly and tossed them both clothing. Gabriel stripped out of his pants and pulled on the new ones before striding back to the pile of the rest of his things. He figured Rhyn and Andre needed a private moment and snorted as he heard Rhyn start off.
“I’m not going to ask why you two are naked,” Rhyn said. “Or why Andre isn’t dead-dead. Or why Gabriel looks radioactive.”
“Hello, little brother,” Andre said with some affection.
Gabriel smiled to himself and pulled on his clothes, replacing weapons. He felt the wary eyes of his death-dealers from the shadows.
“We’re all here,” Harmony’s voice carried a note of uneasiness.
“Line them up. I’ll be quick.” Gabriel glanced up at her as he tugged his belt tight.
“Will do.” She hesitated. “You … changed.”
He met her gaze. While he didn’t want his death-dealers to fear him, he also recognized the look in her eyes and those of the assassins behind her. They no longer regarded him as one of their own after the demonstration of Death’s power. Gabriel mourned the loss of the community he’d belonged to for so long. But things had to be different from here on out. He had to preserve and protect the underworld, even if it meant stepping away from the comfort zone he’d existed in for millennia.
“I’m going to get us home,” he said gently and squeezed her arm. “There’s only one way I can do that. You’ll have to trust me.”
“About the other night …” she started. “I didn’t … I shouldn’t have …I’m sorry, boss.”
“Don’t be. I’ve been avoiding talking to you about us for awhile,” he said, aware he couldn’t push it off any further. “Harmony, I have a mate. I found out a few days ago.”
She frowned.
“I owe you an apology for not telling you sooner,” he added. “I wasn’t prepared for what that meant, just like I wasn’t prepared for my new duties. I’m taking steps to remedy those issues. If I hurt you, I’m sorry.”
Harmony was quiet for a long moment. Gabriel sensed her emotions, even if she tried to keep her face impassive.
“I understand,” she said at last. “You have a duty to your mate. I would never interfere.” She turned away, issuing silent orders to the death-dealers.
Gabriel watched her, not at all satisfied with the exchange. She was hurt; he was an ass. He’d fucked over both the women in his life, and neither deserved it.
The assassins lined up obediently. He went one-by-one, checking the minds of each with the occasional glance across to Rhyn and Andre, who were speaking quietly.
An hour later, Gabriel reached the last of the death-dealers in line, relieved yet troubled not to have found another traitor. The assassin he’d killed earlier had a handler, one that acted as a messenger between him and Darkyn. While the dead man hadn’t known who the handler was, he’d suspected it was another death-dealer. Gabe checked all of those in the mortal realm, except for …
He turned, realizing Harmony hadn’t been in the lineup. In fact, she wasn’t anywhere.
Harmony, he called over their internal channel.
No response.
Gabriel felt something heavier than dread in his stomach. He’d just told Harmony he had a mate. It wasn’t going to take much for her to put together who, especially with the ultra-secret assignments protecting Deidre.
Landon.
The death-dealer appeared at once. Second to Harmony on Gabriel’s list of the most effective, Landon was her back-up when it came to organizing the missions and personnel.
“The protective assignment,” Gabriel started. “Double it. Move them closer to their ward. I also need accountability on all of these.” Gabe handed him the soul compass he’d found on the demon’s body.
“Sure, boss.” Landon’s response was chipper despite his severe features.
“Send Tymkyn to find Harmony,” Gabriel said, referring to the top tracker among his death-dealers. “Tell him to bring her in. Alive, preferably.”
Landon absorbed Gabe’s word choice, recognizing the gravity of the situation without further explanation.
“Find me when you’re done,” Gabriel added.
“Alright, boss.” Landon disappeared through a portal.
Gabe watched him, rubbing his rough jaw. He’d never thought twice about trusting Harmony or any other death-dealer. Or about the Code. Or about pushing Deidre away when she needed to be by his side to keep her safe. Fate was right; the only thing in his way was him.
“I’m liking this new Gabe.” Rhyn pulled him from his thoughts. “Snapping necks, breaking Codes, bringing back the dead-dead.”
Gabe turned. The brothers were standing beside each other a short distance away. Rhyn was smiling faintly, Andre’s controlled expression reminding Gabriel of Wynn.
“I learned a few things recently,” Gabe replied. “I need to borrow Andre. We’ve got some demons to track. And Wynn. I’ll bring them both back.”
“Do me the favor and don’t bring Wynn back,” Rhyn said, anger flashing across his features.
“He’s our father, Rhyn,” Andre said.
“Don’t start that mediator shit with me,” Rhyn snapped.
“You have much to learn about diplomacy, little brother.”
“And discretion,” Gabriel added, unable to help but tease his rankled friend.
“Where’s your mate, Gabe?” Rhyn retorted.
Gabriel rolled his eyes.
“Children, if you’re done, I still need that drink,” Andre said smoothly. “Let us get whatever this is over with. As a man of fashion, I’m afraid I won’t be able to tolerate this clothing long.”
Rhyn eyed him, suspecting it was an insult, while Gabriel recalled how polished Andre was. The peacemaker of the brothers, Andre instinctively used his gift of mind control to counter the tempers of his fiery brothers. It was impossible to stand near him and not relax. Gabriel felt the effect of being near him, and Rhyn shifted away from the subtle magic.
“He’s yours for a couple of hours,” Gabe said to Rhyn. “I’ve got a rat in my ranks. I need to find her.”
“Harmony?” Rhyn guessed.
“Is it that obvious?” Gabriel complained.
“I have a knack for spotting traitors.”
The bitterness in his voice was not lost on Gabe. He slapped Rhyn on the arm. Rhyn lifted his chin in farewell before mot
ioning for Andre to follow him through a portal. Gabriel waited until they were gone. He felt different. Centered. Clear-headed. He had a shit ton of work to do the next couple of days. With Andre’s help, he might gain some insight into Deidre’s illness and be able to counter the demons tracking and stealing souls.
“Thanks for the pep talk, Fate,” he murmured.
You’ll pay for it later, Death, came the deity’s amused response.
Gabriel smiled. “Bring it.”
As he started away, he realized Fate had told him something else this day. The godling promised to tell Gabriel about he bet that took out past-Death, only when Gabriel was on the right path.
For the first time in months, he had confirmation that he was headed the right way.
Chapter Twelve
No Immortals showed up on her doorstep the first two days after she left the French Alps. Deidre began to relax. She settled into the luxe penthouse and learned her way around the neighborhood. As the third day came to a close, she suspected they – more specifically, Gabriel – had really let her go. After the first glass of wine, she was convinced. A second glass led her to think it was all her fault. After the fifth, she was certain she’d dreamt it all up. Or died and gone to hell.
A bottle of wine later, Deidre found herself sobbing on the couch. She didn’t try to test the portals, fearing they wouldn’t work. It was clear he wasn’t coming for her. He’d spent the past three nights in bed with another woman after completely destroying her whole world!
Her wine headache stuck with her throughout the morning on the fourth day. Not even Wynn – who claimed to be her friend – came to find her. She didn’t expect to be so suddenly written off by everyone. Like she was dead.
But she wasn’t yet.
Deidre forced her attention from her own issues and outward as she walked through the street fair in downtown Atlanta. Her sunglasses and hat blocked the sun but not the heat, which fed her pulsing head. She wore one of the dresses past-Deidre bought. It wasn’t something she’d consider any other time, a form-fitting jersey knit with spaghetti straps probably more suited for sleeping than wearing out.
She caught sight of herself in a store window. At least she looked good and was comfortable, even though she felt awful. Would someone like Gabriel notice her, if they crossed paths as random strangers at the festival? Her gaze fell to the tall woman in a slip of a dress that walked by her.
No way in hell. She was too short. No wonder she settled for Logan. Not that it mattered, but she’d need five inch heels to catch the gaze of someone as sexy as Gabriel. And maybe, a different body. A bigger smile. Larger breasts. Definitely some advice from someone who understood make-up better and a real hair stylist who could figure out how to un-pink hair.
“Dammit!”
She had to get him out of her mind. He’d made her an offer. She’d refused. He was moving on while depositing her back at the same crossroads where he’d found her last week. How long until he kicked her out of the apartment, the final act of abandonment after disrupting everything in her life?
The tattoo hadn’t faded either, just like her memory of the sweet man who made love to her.
It wasn’t fair.
She wasn’t going to let a serial killer who chose not to kill her derail her day. No, she’d do what she’d always done: grieve then look for the silver lining. She had a beautiful apartment, a wardrobe, a pantry that magically restocked itself every time she left the place.
Calmed by the reminder, she left her spot in front of the window. The only thing she didn’t have was nature. She found herself missing the ocean and the forest near the Immortals.
Chili pepper lights distracted her. Her step slowed as she neared a booth with an assortment of kitchen décor. The sight of something attainable from her bucket list lifted her spirits.
Deidre bought the lights she’d wanted for years. Logan thought them hideous, and Gabriel had laughed. Screw both men; she was getting her chili pepper lights.
They proved to be the turning point in her day. The painkillers she’d taken kicked in soon after, and she bought ice cream. Her mood improved, Deidre returned to her penthouse with newfound resolve to enjoy the last few months of her life.
She spent a grueling hour putting up the string of red lights in the kitchen and stepped back to admire her work. Proud of herself, she sipped from a glass of wine.
“You little bastards aren’t going anywhere,” she told them triumphantly, admiring the shoddy combination of tacks, tape and nails holding the strands in place along the wall. The sight of the lights thrilled her, reminded her she needed to stop moping around and live her life like a glowing chili pepper.
Leaning back against the counter, she laughed out loud at her absurd thought. It felt good to laugh after the events of the past week.
“So you meant to do that.”
“You’re not going to ruin this for me!” Deidre refused to face him and admired her handiwork. “You destroyed my life. Let me enjoy the shattered pieces you left.”
As if sensing Death was in the room, the string of lights fell away from the wall on one side.
“You mean the shattered peppers,” Gabriel said drily.
She willed herself not to laugh at his joke, but it was hard. He had her kind of humor. There was something else in his voice she couldn’t quite place. He was normally tense around her, his frustration clear. Though he always sounded quietly confident, the new note in his voice was one of calm self-assurance.
“They’re plastic,” she said in a flat tone. “Like your heart.”
“Not to interrupt this lover’s spat, but I could use a glass of wine.”
At the unfamiliar voice, she faced the two men standing outside her kitchen. She didn’t even notice the stranger; her gaze was arrested by Gabriel. The muscular frame, black gaze, dark clothes all looked the same. But he was changed. It was in his relaxed stance, the steadiness of his gaze. She’d always known he was strong. This time, she sensed restrained power of a different kind. Worse, whatever tormented him since they met was no longer an issue. He was comfortable with himself.
The other Gabriel didn’t know what to do about her. This one might. After rejecting then pining for him for a few days, she wasn’t ready for him to be less confused than she was.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.
Death smiled so faintly, she barely saw it. He tipped his head towards the man he’d brought with him.
“I made an attempt to teach him to dress,” the night-skinned man in front of her said as she met his gaze. His eyes were the most beautiful blue-purple she’d ever seen.
She liked him immediately. The air felt a little heavier around her as he spoke, compelling her attention to him. Deidre cocked her head to the side.
“You don’t remember me,” he said.
“I don’t know you from Adam,” she retorted.
Gabriel chuckled. “It really isn’t funny.”
“Be of use, Gabriel, and fix my chili peppers,” she ordered then addressed the stranger. “I’ll get you some wine.”
She turned to the wine chiller and pulled out the bottle she opened when she returned home from the street fair. She grabbed a glass, returning to the counter. Gabriel had dumped her wine before starting to replace the lights.
It was hard to ignore him when he was only a few feet away. Overly aware of his presence, Deidre stepped outside the kitchen to the breakfast counter and poured two glasses of wine.
“I’m Andre,” the newcomer said. “Deidre, I presume?”
“Yep. I’m sure I screwed you over in my past life, too.”
“Only to kill me.”
She met his gaze. “Another dead guy. Like Wynn.”
“My father.”
“How is he?” she asked with more eagerness than she intended.
Andre motioned for her to sit on one of the stools at the counter. She did, waiting for his response as he sat.
“He is well enough.”
She was overheating just looking at him. Andre ceased talking, and she realized he’d been speaking while she ogled Gabriel.
“Come again?” she asked, sipping her wine.
Andre raised his eyebrow in polite disapproval, the same way his father did.
“Wynn’s not dead, is he?”
“No, dear. You were friends?” Andre had Wynn’s patience and manner, though she sensed more genuine warmth in the man before her than she had during the tenure of her friendship with Wynn.
“Are friends, you mean,” she replied. “As far as I know.”
“That’s expensive wine, my friend,” Andre said suddenly.
Deidre twisted to see Gabriel at the wine chiller. He had a bottle in his hand and twisted the cork free with little effort. He gave her the look, the one she knew was meant to remind her of his rules, before he dumped the bottle into the sink. A thrill went through her at the silent dare.
“Perhaps, if you promise him not to drink it except with me, he’ll spare the rest of those precious bottles,” Andre said, gaze on the wine going down the drain. “I’m French. I cannot bear this level of abuse. Would that appease you, Gabriel?”
“She knows not to drink,” was the firm response.
“Judging by the stack of wine bottles near the door, there needs to be a middle ground you can agree on,” Andre advised.
“Middle ground, sweetie,” she repeated with exaggerated innocence. “Some sort of arrangement we can both live with.”
Gabriel’s jaw ticked as held her gaze for a long moment. “Very well.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Gabriel?” she asked, surprised.