by Nikki Kelly
Protectively, Darwin’s arm stretched across my chest, and he shielded me with his body. Jonah rolled his eyes. Darwin was not built to fight. He was a debonair gentleman, an intellect … and yet … he was pulling a Stanley knife from his waistband.
From behind Darwin, I gestured for Jonah to leave, and for once he listened to me. Yet, somehow, as he was heading for the guest room, Jonah lost his footing and slipped. Darwin sped to the top of the staircase.
“Yohan!” he shouted, calling for one of his guards. “Yohan, up here!”
Behind him, I thought myself into the guest room, so when Darwin spun around, I was gone. The balcony doors were wide open, and I rushed through them to the sound of Jonah cursing, but he wasn’t in my direct line of sight.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, peering over the railing. “Are you hurt or something?” It was the only possible explanation I could think of as to why he had slipped on the landing and as to why he was now precariously dangling one-handed from the railing, trying to grab hold of the drainpipe on the brickwork with his available hand. A two-story drop shouldn’t pose a problem for a Vampire; why hadn’t he simply jumped? Heavy footsteps sprang along the landing, leaving me no time to press him for an answer. Vaulting up and over the cast-iron railing, I snatched Jonah, taking him with me as I landed, perfectly balanced on tiptoes, on the patio below. Redistributing his weight over my shoulder, I sped through the gardens before we could be seen.
I took us two roads away before stopping and taking refuge underneath a tree in the communal grounds across from the terraced townhouses. As I dropped Jonah, I punched him in the arm. “What are you playing at?”
Jonah scowled as he scratched the back of his head. “Don’t ever do that again.” He rooted around in his jacket pocket and pulled out a packet of smokes and a lighter. He cupped his hand around the end of a cigarette as he lit up, somehow inhaling and exhaling smoke all in one go as he tipped his head toward the sky. “I was taking a look at the painting that’s got you so heated up.”
Annoyed as I was at him exposing himself, it was more important to know what he thought of the painting. A scolding could wait. “And?” I said.
“Obviously, you’re crazy.”
Why I expected him to be anything but acrimonious I don’t know. “You and I both saw a robot, the very same robot that a seer painted on that canvas centuries ago.”
“And?” he said, mocking me.
I was about to fill him in on what was hidden within the image, sure he wouldn’t have seen what I had, when he said, “I saw the butterflies, beautiful. I felt the flap of their wings as they took flight. And yeah, it’s freaky, I’ll give you that, but it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean you have to die.”
Choking on the fumes, I said, “I think we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
He took a deep pull on his cigarette, and the ash fell away with the breeze as the paper burned. “For argument’s sake, let’s say you’re right, let’s say somehow that painting represents your death. Killer robots haven’t been invented yet, so—” Stooping to my ear, he blew a steady stream of smoke out of the corner of his lips. “Perhaps you should find something better to do with your time than worrying you’re about to run out of it.” Jonah flicked his cigarette and then stubbed out the glowing orange bulb with his biker boot. He walked back to the road, turned his head from left to right, and finally flipped up his hood and whistled at me over his shoulder.
I wasn’t about to come running when he called me like that, and so I made a point of strolling instead. “Don’t ever do that again,” I said with disdain, mirroring his earlier words and tone.
He smirked sarcastically. “Works for the Paddy kingpin, and you seem to listen to him.”
“Don’t start.”
Taking my hand, he lead me across the road, stopping when he reached the passenger side of a shiny black Porsche. “Grand theft auto isn’t as much fun when there’s no one around to try to stop you.” He sighed. Then, nearly pulling the door off its hinges, he said, “Nevertheless, your chariot, beautiful.”
Jonah was right: There wasn’t a single person in sight. I guess the curfew hadn’t lifted yet.
He said, “I assume you’re wanting to go back to the kid farmers?”
“You assume right, and the sooner the better. We’ll be faster on foot.” I turned away, but Jonah caught my elbow.
“What’s the rush? They aren’t going anywhere. Let me have my way for a change.”
“For a change? Are you forgetting about the last two nights?” I’d meant to use a sharper tone, and I absolutely hadn’t meant to grin at all.
Jonah gave me a devious wink before taking me by my waist and bundling me into the passenger’s seat.
EIGHTEEN
BY THE TIME WE REACHED DUBLIN, Jonah had had enough fun driving the Porsche that he was willing to dump the stolen car. It had taken us the better part of the day to drive from the southeast of England to Holyhead, where we had then driven onto a ferry and made our way by boat to Dublin’s port.
Though I’d initially wanted to get back sooner, I couldn’t deny that I’d found the journey refreshing. As Jonah cruised along the motorway, I’d wound down the window, letting the cold air skim my skin. No talk of Heaven or Hell, of war or religion, of life and death—no, we’d simply talked. Maybe for real for the first time.
Jonah had never spoken much of his life before he’d become a Second Generation Vampire. What I knew had mostly come from Ruadhan. I’d been led to believe that once a mortal had been infected with the venom of a Pureblood, the darkness took over, leaving little of the person that he or she had been. But Jonah was different. Through Brooke, he had remembered Mariposa, and that spark had been enough to grow a flame. With each day that he was parted from his Pureblood Master, it continued to burn. On and on, every day, it burned as he tried to find his way back to some form of humanity, to an existence that had been stolen from him. I admired him for that. Jonah had never let what he was define him; he’d made a choice, even though he hadn’t been given one.
He told me about his childhood, how he’d enjoyed sketching from an early age; a God-given gift, his mum had called it. His father had had high hopes for him in the way of a soccer career, but as much as Jonah enjoyed playing sports, he’d dreamed of becoming an artist. He’d gone on to tell me about college life, for the short while he’d attended Florida State University, and of the time he’d wasted away playing drinking games with his friends. He didn’t speak about his sister or of the night he had been changed into a Vampire. And I didn’t ask. Instead, I sat, providing him with an audience while he reminisced about the good times, becoming more and more animated as the stories poured out. Somehow, as he regaled me with them, it felt as if it was the first time he was remembering them himself.
Eventually, he was doing all the talking, and I sat, welcoming the sounds of the laughter that was increasingly leaving his lips, the same laughter that had caused me to fall in love with him, each new bout resounding in my soul.
* * *
WE DUMPED THE PORSCHE next to the rail track, and though we both set off toward Lucan at the same time, it was me who arrived by the side of Sealgaire HQ first. As I waited for Jonah, I noted that the usual hustle and bustle surrounding the house was absent. Apprehensively, I walked down the dirt track toward the motor home. A loud smash followed by a scream found me fast, and my senses zeroed in on the location. I catapulted over the fence and sped through the garden to the back of the main house. The silver components of the door didn’t hold me back, for the entire door had been decimated. I rushed through the rectangular hole in the wall.
Shattered glass, playing cards, and one-cent pieces were scattered across the polished marble floor, where Gabriel was struggling to fend off a Vampire. Iona was clutching a silver blade, pinned in the far corner by the knocked-over table.
The demon straddled Gabriel, cracking its fangs. I flung myself at the Vampire, taking him with me through the br
ick wall behind us. We were both on our feet in less than a second, but for just a fraction, I hesitated, distracted by the arrival of Ruadhan. It was all the time the Vampire needed to throw himself back at Gabriel.
Ruadhan surged forward, but from his position he hadn’t seen Iona launching herself over the table, raising the blade above her head.
“Watch out!” I yelled.
Ruadhan’s trench coat flew in the air as he flipped backward on the spot. As he somersaulted, Iona’s knife nicked him in the arm and she fell to the floor with a thump.
The Vampire had Gabriel by the throat, and I recognized the black gloves from two nights ago. But the demon was scarred beyond just the slice over his lip and cheek; the right side of his face almost matched the mosaic tiles. The damage from William’s silver arrow had left his skin discolored and cracked like graying ground in a drought.
“Psst!” I hissed, and the Vampire craned his neck in my direction, his green eyes becoming blood-red in response to the balls of pure white light rising in my palms. Gabriel was my soul mate, but Ruadhan was the closest thing I had to a father, and he was vulnerably positioned just outside the door frame. I had one second, and all I could do with it was offer the Vampire a choice—his existence for Gabriel’s.
Misreading the situation, Iona must have thought I was creating a diversion. She slid the blade across the polished tiles to Gabriel’s waiting hand. Twisting his grasp around the handle, he drove it toward the Vampire’s neck, but the Vampire was faster, catching Gabriel by the wrist. The knifepoint was a whisper from pricking the demon’s sallow skin, but his stare remained fixed on me. With a howl, he said, “She was mine.”
I willed my light to weave through my fingers. “Get out,” I said in a final warning.
The Vampire disappeared, and the blade that had been at his throat plinked to the floor. Panting, Gabriel stood, quick to pull Iona to her feet. I called Ruadhan’s name twice, and he appeared.
“I’m okay, little love,” he said.
Gabriel and Iona held on to each other’s shoulders, supporting each other’s weight. They bowed their heads, and their temples met. The way they held each other made me feel as though I was intruding on a private moment. But then Gabriel scowled; his whole body quivered and he pushed Iona away.
Gabriel glanced to me, and Iona followed his gaze, her lips pulling in a fragile frown. Taking a breath, she turned away.
“No,” I said, a wobble in my voice. “Gabriel, I think it’s time we talked.”
* * *
AFTER LEAVING IONA IN RUADHAN’S CARE, Gabriel and I were alone together in the kitchen of the main house. Gabriel pinched the collar of his plain black polo shirt, shaking away tiny shards of glass. I remembered him mostly in white, but now his clothes were dark, as though he didn’t want to be seen.
The remains of the glass tabletop crunched underneath my ankle boots as I strode closer to Gabriel. Inwardly, I prepared for the pain that this conversation was going to cause us both. With no easy way to begin, I simply said, “She loves you.”
“I know,” he said, reaching for my elbow.
I was in love with Jonah, but a part of me would always love Gabriel, and his life and happiness were still of paramount importance to me. No matter how many times my soul had changed shape, his mark on me remained, though it had faded over time, which was a good thing; he was better off without me.
“You and I are meant to be together,” Gabriel whispered in my ear.
His quick breath at the nape of my neck was familiar but different at the same time. Now it was cold against my skin. “I know it feels like that. We were designed to fit together, but that doesn’t mean we have to remain a Pair.” I turned to face him. “Inevitability, remember? Your happiness doesn’t have to be dictated by it, not when there’s choice, and both of us have a choice, Gabriel.”
Gabriel’s wavy blond hair fell over his forehead as he bowed his chin and asked plainly, “And your choice is him?”
“Yes.”
He blinked slowly. “That’s your decision, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you—that you are my purpose.”
Created as Angel Pairs, Gabriel and I were fated to each other. In the past, he had claimed that his love for me was his choice, but how much of it really stemmed from the way our connection made him feel? How I felt about Jonah had not been preprogrammed. I had fallen in love slowly, my feelings for him culminating in that laughter that had escaped his lips under the Christmas tree in the barn in Neylis. Gabriel felt something toward Iona; I had been sure of it when he kissed her at Sir Montmorency’s soiree. And they were new feelings, born from within him, not ones that had already existed the day he was born.
And though Gabriel had once spoken of choice, of free will, he, too, had a faith and he chose to place his in destiny—in “meant to be.”
I cupped his cheek and sighed. “Gabriel…” I searched for something that would make sense to him, and I remembered what Darwin had said to me when I had debated the meaning of life with him at his father’s party. “Maybe it doesn’t make sense now, but one day it might. Perhaps, at the end, we’ll find order in the entropy of infinity.” I tucked his hair behind his ear. “You and Jonah might both be right. There might be meaning behind all this chaos. There were signs pointing to Jonah, but I couldn’t see him because I was blinded by you, by us, by a past that consumed my present, that consumes yours still. But I heard him, Gabriel. The pound of the drum, the sound of his heartbeat.” I paused. “Perhaps you should stop looking and start listening instead.”
Gabriel’s tired, gray-blue eyes met mine. “I can’t let you go.”
“But you don’t have to. The me you loved will never leave.” I took his hands in mine and brought them to his chest. “She’ll always be with you—in here.”
Gabriel kissed me—very gently. He lingered at my lips and then brought me in close by the small of my back. More forceful, more full of pain, he kissed me a second time, but then he pulled away, his brow dipping.
I nodded to him. “There’s nothing there, I know. Because you’re kissing a ghost.”
Gabriel gripped the hem of my shirt. Finally, he understood.
I withdrew, and my mask nearly peeled away. I pressed it in place. “We should talk about Iona—”
Gabriel shook his head as though it were far too soon for such a conversation. At the party in Chelsea, I had witnessed Gabriel glow at her touch. There was something between them, however much he denied it. For him, ultimately what would define the end of our relationship was the beginning of another. Only then would he truly move on. But he needed to open himself up to the idea of it, and fast, before it was too late. I didn’t know how long I had left here. Once I was gone, I wouldn’t be able to protect him, and he’d be left here fallen, with no abilities. This attack I was lucky enough to have stopped proved that couldn’t be allowed to happen. He needed to regain his light to save himself, to save her, and to find the happily-ever-after his story deserved.
“You love her,” I said, “but not in the way you should. Not in the way you need to.”
Gabriel stepped back from me, and his gaze fell to the floor. “Let’s not do this, not now, please—” he said quietly.
With daylight dwindling outside, and the darkness descending on the doorway, our time together was coming to an end, and with a subject not to be rushed, I relented and turned my attention away from matters of the heart. “Do you want to tell me why that demon keeps trying to kill you? Do you know what he meant by ‘She was mine’?”
Gabriel stroked his neck as though he’d just shaved. “That Vampire was Hanora’s … well, I’m not sure what you’d call him.”
“You mean he was connected to her through blood? He was her mate?”
“The word mate doesn’t seem right. It would imply some sort of affection. I told you before, Vampires don’t survive long when they begin to feed off each other. One is always destroyed.” As despondent as Gabriel appeared, he seemed to welcome a dive
rsion from the subject of Iona. “How much do you really know about Hanora?” He turned and opened a cupboard, pulling out a wooden broom.
Not much, I realized, as I answered. “Ruadhan told me she traveled with you for the better part of a century. That she was the first Vampire you freed from a Pureblood Master.”
“That’s right. After your death, your first death, I left for the first dimension to seek out your essence in the in-between. Of course, it wasn’t there, because you weren’t really dead.” He trailed off, recalling the injustice of it all—the “what could have been.” He continued, “After consulting with Orifiel, I returned to Earth through the fixed gateway, emerging here, in Lucan. This is where I first met Malachi, and it’s also where I found Hanora.”
“Okay,” I said as I flipped on a light switch for Gabriel’s benefit.
He leaned his weight against the broomstick. “The first time I came across her, she and her clan were attacking some of the locals boarding a train for Dublin. But, hidden from view, I watched as she spared a mother and her baby. The second time I saw her, she was protecting some children caught in an air raid. I had never met a Vampire like Hanora. She was the first I’d ever witnessed with that spark, that recollection of their once-human self.” He tipped his weight back. “She was impossible. She gave me hope when I had none. And so the night I left for London, I took her with me. And this Vampire who seems hell-bent on trying to kill me was left behind—unhappily, I am sure you can guess.”
“So, what? He’s been trying to kill you ever since?”
“No, to seek me out would have meant leaving Lucan, and disbanding from his Master and clan. I expect he was able to sense her end through their blood connection.”
Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck, and I cut in, saving him from voicing the truth of it, from having to say that he’d murdered her. “So he’s upset that she’s dead?”
He shook his head. “She’d spared the lives of the innocent instead of taking them. She disbanded from her Master. She was shamed.” He paused and then said, “He’s only upset that I killed her before he could.”