by Barbara Taub
Gaby handed over her own croissant to Thomas and smiled at both of them. “I’m so happy to see you together. And I’m glad to meet you at last, Thomas. What have you been doing for the past century?”
Thomas finished the croissant and waved the empty bowl at the waiter. “Actually, it’s only been about five years. At first I was training. The Watchers Court has been forming a division of warriors—Nephilim mostly—to prepare for the battle if it comes. That part took about four years. Leila,” he tried to sound casual, “when I was commissioned, I got wings. I can fly.”
Leila shook her head. “I checked you over pretty carefully last night. I sure would have noticed wings.”
“Turns out it’s really hard for younger Nephilim to fly unless they have a visual. They taught us how to use wings as a focus, so they appear when we fly. I don’t actually understand it, but apparently they’re not really there. And the older Nephilim don’t seem to need them.” Pale red circles appeared on his cheeks. “But the rest of us think they’re brilliant.”
Thomas paused to tell the waiter they would need another omelet and maybe a few backup croissants. “After that, I spent the next year hunting up both of you. But I had no idea you’d ended up here in the nineties. I was getting pretty discouraged when Sam got in touch and said there was a ticket to Fontaine Hantée waiting for me at the Metro. He told me about Raymond’s wedding and said I was meant to be there. I didn’t want to come and see my family—Danny and Cécile—but finally decided to just take a quick look.”
He closed his eyes, and Leila put her hand into his. “They looked so happy, though. I’m glad I came… Ow!” He opened his eyes and rubbed his leg. “Leila, I think I showed you last night that I was pretty damn glad to see you too. Of course, if I had known what the trip would be like…” He turned a bit green. “I’d rather do ten steamer trips from Seattle to San Francisco than ever do anything like that again. I couldn’t eat for a whole day!”
“Okay, ixnay on the Metro symptoms.” Gaby shivered sympathetically. “So, Thomas: ‘You’ve done nothing but study sword-play?’”
Thomas’ eyes lit up. “More pursue than study lately. There’s not a lot of money in revenge.”
Leila groaned. “Repeat after me. Thou shalt not quote Princess Bride before noon.”
Thomas and Gaby replied in unison, “Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.” They beamed at each other.
Leila slapped both of their arms. “Stop saying that!”
Thomas and Leila disappeared again after breakfast. Gaby was trying to soak up the fragile March sunshine and tell herself she wasn’t jealous of Leila—no, not a bit, you liar—when she heard a footstep behind her. “May I join you?”
She nodded a bit sourly to Sebastian Chapel. “I’m not going to be good company this morning. So don’t even try to ask me about Thomas and Leila…”
“In that case…” He held out his hand. “How about a walk?”
She considered him. Sebastian Chapel was the blueprint for what Thomas would someday become. With his fair hair and height, his intrinsic elegance made him seem deceptively slender. But dancing with him at the wedding had revealed a steely strength, while the gray eyes so like Thomas’ watched the world with imperturbable composure. She would never admit it in Leila’s presence, but her inner-Gaby found his air of aristocratic authority oddly comforting.
It’s not, she tried reasoning with inner-Gaby, like he isn’t ruthlessly capable of imposing whatever he decides his better judgment calls for. Placing her hand in his, she allowed him to draw her smoothly to her feet while inner-Gaby cheered. Gaby, your head is just not right.
To Gaby’s surprise, the walk turned out to be just what she needed. They climbed the hill, passing the Chateau and continuing to the peak. Someone had put a bench at the top, and they sat in companionable silence. Sebastian commented on the wedding, and somehow they were having a conversation. He told her about raising his son after the death of his wife and related a self-deprecating tale of taking care of his grandson Daniel, who, as a toddler, was firmly convinced that clothing was superfluous. Gaby found herself telling about the time Carey and Connor surprised her with breakfast in bed for her birthday and how she threw up for the rest of the day. They discussed eccentric clients he represented as a solicitor, and she had him laughing as she related one of Prices Right’s early failures.
Finally, in the cool tones of a stranger commenting on the weather, he remarked, “Gaby, I know Sam sent you. What can I do to help?”
She should probably resent his interference, but inner-Gaby was suspiciously silent. She knew she’d never match his conversational tone, so she opted for honesty. “All my life, the only thing I’ve ever wanted was to be normal. Instead of trying to fight a war when I’m not even on the same side as the angels, I just want to do a little accounting and come home. To a normal family with normal worries about their bills and the mortgage and who’s running for president. Normal. Can you help with that?”
He grinned, a weirdly Thomas-like expression. “Would you settle for a quick run into Sisteron for lunch? I know a little place…”
Gaby leaned back against the leather seats of Sebastian’s BMW and sighed. “I never knew food like that existed. The only thing keeping me from licking the plates was the presence of other diners. And even that would have been touch and go with the green stuff if the waiter hadn’t taken the plate. Despite my begging…”
“I thought you lived in France for the past few years?”
“You forget my roommate is She-Whose-Name-We’re-Not-Mentioning. If it doesn’t involve a tortilla, ketchup, or caffeine, she’s not interested. And to be honest, I didn’t want to do anything except work and more work for the first few years. So our meals were pretty simple. You know, Sebastian…”
Gaby paused and then tried again. “Sebastian.” She frowned. “Nope. Sebastian just isn’t working for me as a name. I don’t suppose anyone ever called you Seb?”
He shuddered. “Not to my face.”
“Sebastian sounds like the person my … roommate … described as a control-freak with a stick so far up his…” She stopped primly and laughed at his appalled face. “Okay, let’s keep working on it. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to call you something else until I come up with a more user-friendly name. How do you feel about Bob?” He closed his eyes briefly. “Okay, how about Jack? Tom? Wait, I’ve got it. You look like a Max.”
“As a matter of fact, I was born Sebastian Maximilian Georges Saint-Chappelle.”
She looked at him in horror. “Poor Max! What did your parents have against you?”
He laughed. “Max it is.”
With Raymond and Suzanne on their honeymoon and Leila and Thomas having an unofficial honeymoon of their own, Gaby ended up spending her time with Max. A few days later, they toured the ancient Citadel in Sisteron and heard about the famous incident when the garrison’s commander refused to stop Napoleon’s return from exile on Elba. She was laughing at the tinny, emotional recording of the story when she noticed her companion’s white-lipped fury. “Max?”
“I don’t see the humor in this. I had already lost my wife to the Reign of Terror, and now, because a worm couldn’t summon enough of his manhood to do his duty, we faced that little monster again. I spent the Battle of Waterloo defending Hougoumont and buried good friends that day.”
She put her hand gently on his arm. “Max, I’m so sorry.” He shook off her hand, stiffly suggesting she might want to see the rest of the fortress on her own and meet him outside when she was ready to leave.
Her eyes narrowed on him. Oh, no you’re not really going to… He actually made a small bow before walking away.
“Sebastian Maximilian Georges Saint-Chappelle,” she bellowed. “Get your butt back here right now, or I’m telling Leila she was right about how far up that stick goes.”
He turned back to her in shock.
She walked over to him. “So, Max, do you get a lot o
f girls with that routine?”
He eyed her warily. “A bit over the top?”
“I was ten times worse those first years,” she admitted. “But I had Leila there, and she just doesn’t have any patience with self-pity. So I’m going to do the same favor for you. Now, how about showing an American the proper way to drink a cup of tea?”
On the way back from Sisteron, she noticed him glancing repeatedly in the rearview mirror. “Max?”
Around the next bend, he hit the gas and the little car flew toward the following curve. He pulled off the road behind a shed and waited. When the next car went by, he smiled with grim satisfaction before making a call on the phone installed between their seats. He described the car following them and the two men inside.
He hung up and turned to Gaby. “What would you like to do for dinner?”
“Max!” She punched him in the arm, and he laughed.
“It’s an occupational hazard. We got lucky. Now we know who to watch.”
“Occupational hazard of solicitors?”
“It’s a very competitive line of work.”
That night, Max invited Thomas and Leila to join them for dinner. As always, Thomas was delighted to eat at a good restaurant, especially when he wasn’t paying. Leila, however, told Gaby she had still not forgiven Thomas’ grandfather for thinking he could make decisions for her when they met in the past or for tracking her down in the future to present her with her birth mother’s jewelry and chateau. “And he’s too polite,” Leila concluded. “I see him watching us, but I can’t ever tell what he’s really thinking. The wedding is over. Why is he still hanging around?”
“But you wouldn’t have met Thomas without him,” Gaby pointed out.
“You know how I hate it when you interrupt a perfectly good whine session with logic.”
“Sorry. I’ll try to watch that.”
Leila eyed Max suspiciously through the meal. Finally, as Thomas was studying the dessert menu, she put down her fork and glared at his grandfather. “I know you remember us from the time—and I mean that literally—when Thomas and I sailed to England. I’m not going to explain that yet, but I want to know what you’re up to. And while we’re on the subject, why is your name now Max?”
Thomas looked up from his menu. “That’s our Leila. She was in the other room getting a coffee when they were handing out tact.”
“Oh, like you didn’t wonder?” snorted Leila.
“His name is now Max,” Gaby replied calmly, “because when I go out with him, I don’t like to call him Sebastian.”
He smiled at her and reached across the table for her hand. “Are we going out?”
“First we have to work on your control issues.”
“I don’t have control issues; I merely rely on my age and experience to know what is best.”
“Really? Then you can start by explaining what your age and experience knows about that car following us this afternoon.” She looked at him inquiringly, but her hand closed with his.
“That had nothing to do with you.”
She waited.
He sighed.
She wriggled the fingers of the hand he still held.
Thomas and Leila’s heads swiveled back and forth between Gaby and Max like spectators at a tennis match.
“Yes. Well. Sam would probably tell you anyway.” Max lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “And I could use your help.”
Glancing around, he lowered his voice. “I’ve been looking into Haven’s history, and they have responded with greater interest in me. That’s because the current standoff between the Fallen and Watcher Courts in Raqia has led to pressure for Nephilim here to support one of the sides in the war between Gifts and Haven. Nephilim leaders from around the world have agreed to a Convocation in London in two weeks to decide whether to support one side or the other.”
He ignored Leila’s soft gasp, but maintained his grip on Gaby’s clenching fingers. “I’d like each of you to speak at that meeting. Gaby, you could describe your parents’ deaths and the disappearance of your brother and sister. Leila and Thomas can try to convince Nephilim that neither Fallen nor Watcher Courts are behind the war.”
Leila was skeptical. “You think talking will do any good?”
“Not just talking.” Max’s smile was grim. “Every piece of information my organization has gathered on Haven is stored at my London house. I’d like to see what Gaby thinks and if there are any patterns she can identify that might lead to her brother and sister.”
Gaby answered without looking away from Max. “What I think is that we’ve been fighting a secret war for almost a hundred years, and nobody even really knows why. Maybe we can find out that much at least. I’ll come.”
Thomas looked at his grandfather. “Smooth,” he said admiringly.
“What just happened?” asked Leila.
“I’ve got this one,” Thomas told them. “Leila, it’s like in Beauty and the Beast when the monster offers the girl her own library. Hey.” He ducked. “I don’t think you’re supposed to throw the cutlery in restaurants like this.”
Gaby was confused. “Huh?”
Max was polite. “Perrault?”
Leila was dignified. “Disney. One of the greatest movies ever made.”
Leila frowned at Max. “But in our version, the monster doesn’t get to send the girl’s family packing. We’re Gaby’s family now, so if she goes, we’re going too.”
“None of us can go anywhere until we talk to Suzanne,” Gaby reminded Thomas and Leila. “And maybe we need to hang around until … Leila’s birthday. Her birth day.”
“Ewww,” said Leila.
“Right,” said Thomas.
“But either way…” Gaby spoke slowly, choosing each word with care. “There’s that job we have to do. My … contact … can’t book transportation for us. But now that we at least have … what you and Leila brought, maybe we can figure out how to get transportation to come to Leila.”
“Actually, we know nothing is going to happen here until my birthday.” Leila frowned and poked at the dessert the waiter had just placed in front of her. “And Raymond isn’t supposed to have my … parcel. So maybe Max’s Convocation is our next-thing.”
“If you’re finished speaking in code, maybe we can leave the children and go somewhere to talk.” Max smiled at Gaby. “About my alleged control issues.”
Leila elbowed Thomas, who stopped eating her dessert to get to his feet. “I can’t begin to explain how weird it is that I’m saying this, but we want you to know if you do anything to hurt Gaby…”
Leila pulled him down and whispered in his ear. Thomas shook his head. “He’s family. I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to practice the castration technique on him. Maybe you could just shoot him?”
“Really nice, you guys.” Gaby laughed at Max’s appalled face. “In a completely disturbing way, of course.”
GABY AND LEILA, Chapter Seventeen
1994, London
“Nice place,” Gaby told Max as he showed them around his London house.
“Thank you. It’s been in my family for hundreds of years.” Max politely held the door for Leila. “Of course, so have I.”
Thomas snickered, but Leila glared at Max. “Why is Gaby’s room one floor below our rooms? And it better not be next door to your room.”
“That was my idea.” Coming last through the doorway, Gaby leaned into the arm Max wrapped around her shoulders as he guided her through the door. “I thought you and Thomas could use the privacy.”
Thomas waggled his eyebrows at Leila, but she ignored him. “I wonder if there’s a place around here I could get in some target practice? You know, just in case I need to shoot someone in the balls.”
Max looked at Thomas, who grinned. “She’s kidding. I think. Mostly she aims higher.”
That afternoon, Thomas took Leila off to explore London, apologizing for not keeping his promise to take her on the Eye because it wouldn’t be opening for several y
ears. When she asked if they had any good roller coasters there, he looked a bit green but said he’d see what he could find.
Max led Gaby into a small parlor. Sunshine streamed through tall, narrow windows that looked out on the private residents’ park across the street. He stepped toward her and slipped a strand of hair behind her ear. “Max?” she whispered.
“Mmmm?” He leaned forward.
“You said I could research your Haven records for patterns that might lead to my brother and sister.”
He stepped back, smiling painfully. “It’s a good thing I have a secure ego.” Stepping over to the fireplace, he showed her how to open a panel hidden in the carvings to reveal a small control pad.
“The code is 0-0-7.” He watched as the entire fireplace swung out in classic spy thriller mode.
“Of course it is.” She laughed up at him. “Come on, Max, a secret passage? Do you have a torture chamber? Or a room where the walls slide back to display racks of ray guns? Or at least a secret decoder ring?”
“Better than that.” He waved her ahead of him into a windowless room with three long tables and wall shelves lined with file boxes.
She clasped her hands and bounced on her toes. “Max, this is the best present you could have given me.”
He opened his arms, and a moment later she was enthusiastically returning his kiss. Max kicked the door behind him, and the fireplace swung shut. Then he could have kicked himself because the click as it latched into place reminded her of the waiting boxes.
She stepped back. “Show me what’s here and what you’ve done so far. Then I’m going to need a case of bottled water and better lighting.”
For the next two weeks, Gaby went through Max’s files on Haven looking for patterns or references that might lead to her sister and brother. When, that is, she wasn’t interrupted by an exquisitely polite, completely specious request from Max requiring her immediate attention. Often, by the time he ushered her into the sunny little parlor and poured tea, the request was forgotten. Instead, they discussed everything from her childhood in Null City to his family’s history, first in France and then in their adopted England. She teased him about his taste in music and books and forced him to admit that he was a closet Star Wars fan. He tried to explain cricket to her, and she countered with equally incomprehensible descriptions of the baseball games she’d attended with her father.