Finding Gabriel

by Rachel L. Demeter

  Gabriel moved forward, positioning himself in front of the grenadier line. Carrion crows had already begun their descent. In the midst of the commotion, they scavenged the length of the town, stripping flesh from bone. Their black mourning cloaks clashed against the bruised skyline as they flocked to the ground. A pair of birds battled over a chunk of flesh; they tumbled across the stained field, screeching and clawing, twisted bellows emerging from their dark throats. Gabriel steeled his heart; a fallen comrade attempted to shoo away a crow and die with a shred of dignity.

  Scanning the horizon, he averted his gaze from the sea of battered corpses and disembodied limbs. The brigade wouldn’t hold out much longer. And Russian reinforcements were less than a kilometer away, ready to aid the Prussian army and turn the tide. Exhaustion swept through Gabriel’s limbs and burdened his chest. Perhaps today he would die. Seduced by the thought, a macabre smile curled his lips.

  Then he turned his face into the wind and inhaled the musky aroma. The sun sulked low in the sky like an ill omen. Thick clouds of smoke poisoned the air, mingling with heaps of snow and the bitter musk of sweat. The field had transformed into a harsh limbo of fire and ice. Consuming everything in their paths, fires erupted across the field. Ashes blanketed the town like gray snowfall while a gossamer robe of scarlet cloaked the horizon. The Day of Judgment had arrived, and there was no escaping its wrath.

  Boom! The sudden blast of noise fragmented the silence. The sound reverberated through Gabriel’s teeth, setting every nerve on edge. Flying particles stung his eyes and overpowered his lungs. Suntaria tossed his mighty head back and pawed at the snow. “Easy, Suntaria, easy.” The horse relaxed at the sound of his master’s voice and shot forward, obeying Gabriel’s command. Gabriel coughed into the material of his greatcoat as he fought the unforgiving surroundings. Then he raised his cavalry sword and signaled the cannon’s fire …

  Several hours raced by, full of artillery exchanges and calculated maneuvers. Dawn came, bringing light but no warmth. The new day fully broke, and harsh sunlight reflected off the snow-covered field.

  Gabriel drove his cuffed boots into Suntaria’s flank and thrust into a hard gallop. The horse’s breath shone in the frigid air. Gabriel released the reins, wiped the sweat from his palms, and adjusted his grip on the musket. He controlled Suntaria with only his legs and voice; horse and man operated as one being – true comrades in the midst of a battle.

  The musket’s wooden handle remained slippery beneath his fingers. Focusing his aim, he turned to his men and bellowed a command. “Forward! Hold the line!” A mounted messenger raced down the line and echoed Gabriel’s order. The soldiers acted without hesitation and carried out the command. Even Suntaria obeyed and surged on. Gabriel examined the center formation with a nod of approval; the grenadier line was dense, compact, and well posted.

  The coronets trumpeted. The regimental band exploded into song. The war drum beat strong and sure, and a thousand soldiers marched in a unified stride. Then a turbulent boom resounded and the earth quaked beneath Suntaria’s hooves. Nearby horses spooked from the explosion of noise. Panicked screams blended into the ambiance as fellow soldiers were blown to pieces. Amputated limbs rained down, falling in sync with the snow and ashes. A cannon resounded once more, and its deafening rumble nearly shattered Gabriel’s eardrums.

  “Every man to arms! No retreat!”

  It all seemed to happen at once. Suntaria gave out beneath Gabriel as a shell tore through his hind leg. The beast crashed to the snow and screamed in agony. Gabriel clasped the musket against his chest, rolled away from the horse’s thrashing body, and sprang to his feet.

  Nausea overwhelmed Gabriel as he observed the poor animal. Blood pooled beneath Suntaria’s powerful haunches; his eyes were wide with fear and his movements erratic. He fought to stand, then gave a nightmarish scream as his hind leg folded beneath him. Terrible, human-like bellows echoed around the field. Nothing sounded quite as bone-chilling as a dying horse. Suntaria’s wounded body was trampled once, twice, three times, as other horses stomped on his neck and back. He was suffering – and he’d been Gabriel’s loyal companion these last eight years.

  Suntaria had become a dear, beloved friend.

  Gabriel held his breath as he aimed the musket at the horse’s head. Steeling his emotions, he pulled the trigger – and Suntaria instantly fell limp. Gabriel exhaled a steadying breath and lowered the musket. With a whispered farewell, he wiped sweat from his brow and scanned the tumultuous field.

  Frenchmen and Prussians collided in a bitter clash. The carefully constructed lines tore apart and mayhem ensued. The center shattered – and the infantry, artillery, and cavalry joined together as a single force.

  Gabriel caught a glimpse of Napoleon riding through the field. The emperor always fought in the thick of it, wherever he was needed most. He rode fiercely before his men and positioned himself front and center – directly beside the raining cannonballs and whizzing bullets.

  Gabriel stood, momentarily paralyzed by the spectacle. Calvary sword raised, his greatcoat whipping behind him, Bonaparte resembled the images from Paris’s propaganda papers. Within this moment, his greatness was neither myth nor folklore; it was reality. His unbending loyalty to his men, his bravery and willingness to die beside them, made a cutting vision. And Gabriel knew he’d never forget it.

  The entire battle shifted. Every soldier rallied to Napoleon’s side and wielded their weapons with rekindled fire. The emperor had ignited an inferno inside every man’s chest – and the heat spread through the town in a blaze.

  Shoving to the front of the ranks, Gabriel withdrew his sword in a fluid movement; the other hand clasped his musket. He positioned himself where the fighting was heaviest – fully intending to die beside Suntaria.

  He cut through the line of men with grace and calm efficiency. His right arm descended in a determined arc; a steam of blood splattered across the snow as the blade slashed through an opponent. He rotated on his heels, swung the sword in a horizontal line, and embedded the metal in a man’s gut. The Prussian crumbled to the ground in a heap of blood and muttered prayers. Gabriel stomped on the man’s chest and dislodged the sword. Sunlight illuminated the metal and undulated across the slick surface, setting it fiercely ablaze. Consumed by battle fever, one with his sword, he stormed forward, ducked, parried a blow, then countered with a swift hack through an enemy’s neck. The Prussian was soundly decapitated; his head rolled across the snow, those widened eyes perceiving nothing but blackness.

  Not missing a moment, Gabriel shoved through the chaos and swung his sword in a precise arc. He pivoted, brought his weapon down in a deadly curvature, and watched as steel kissed steel. Sparks flashed within the darkness and metallic tangs resounded. Slash, swish, slash, swish. Overhand, underhand, parry – the prospect of life and death balanced on every strike.

  Time slowed to a crawl. Everything merged together in a surreal blur. The past and future fused together then disappeared entirely, leaving only the moment. His concentration never wavering, Gabriel paused in the midst of the chaos and reloaded the musket.

  A Prussian solider seized him from behind. His senses heightened, Gabriel heard the telling whiz of a sword as it hummed through the air – felt the blade skim his back and tear through the greatcoat. He shrugged at the pain and marched forward. It was nothing more than a flesh wound.

  He rotated on his boots, quick as lightning, aimed the musket, and fired. The Prussian crumpled to the ground as the bullet struck his temple. The snow was no more than a blank canvas, and now blood and brains decorated it to perfection.

  Then –

  Air gushed from Gabriel’s lungs in a jarring whoosh. The soldier’s bloodied features dissolved away … leaving his daughter in their wake.

  Lisette’s tiny body was sprawled across the snow. Stark against the pearly ground, raven locks streamed around like a morbid banner. Falling in a languid river, blood leaked from her temple and stained the silky material of her n
ightdress.

  What had he done?

  Gabriel threw his weapon aside, bellowed a choked cry, and collapsed to his knees. Convulsing, barely able to breathe, he scooped his daughter into his arms and held her soundly. Around them, the storm grew in power, cloaking the fallen corpses beneath lush white snow.

  An eerie hush permeated the air. Only Gabriel’s sobs shattered the silence. Then the surrounding mayhem faded away – leaving the two of them. Gabriel pressed a kiss to Lisette’s seething temple and rocked her body from side to side. The metallic tang of fresh blood seeped between his lips and poisoned his heart.

  This is my own fault. This is my doing.

  “Lisette … my Lisette. Dieu … it was supposed to be me.”

  Hot tears cascaded down his cheeks as he recited his daughter’s name … again and again and again.

  •

  Frantic screaming jolted Ariah from her sleep. The shrieks echoed through the home in an eerie requiem. They sounded guttural, almost inhuman in their despair. Heart banging against her rib cage, Ariah lunged from beneath the coverlet and grappled to catch her breath. Emmaline was curled on the opposite side of the mattress, her eyes wide with fear.

  The sound of Gabriel’s cries made Ariah’s skin crawl. She turned to Emmaline and gently brushed a hand over her daughter’s side.

  Emmaline’s gaze widened as Ariah stumbled from the bed. “Maman! Don’t leave me! I’m scared!”

  “I must make sure Gabriel is all right. Just stay here and try to fall back asleep.” The door creaked open and Miriam slipped inside. Her features were chalk white and riddled with panic. Yet she held her chin high, rewarded Emmaline with a broad smile, and wordlessly slipped onto the mattress.

  •

  Ariah stared at the bed with a mixture of horror and bewilderment.

  The very devil had been unleashed.

  Trembling and murmuring incoherent nonsense, Gabriel thrashed between the sheets, looking every bit possessed. A thick film of sweat beaded his forehead and trickled down his face. His raven hair was damp, heavy with perspiration, and plastered to his temples. The rivulets glistened like tears beneath the frail moonlight.

  Her heart burned. He was suffering terribly – fighting off some unseen demon inside his mind.

  “Lord have mercy.” Ariah grasped onto her necklace with one hand and crossed herself with the other. With a deep intake of breath, she gave him a gentle, reassuring shake. “Gabriel, please. Wake up,” she whispered. “It’s only a dream. Nothing more. I – ”

  It happened in a dizzying flash. Gabriel jackknifed to his feet with a vicious war cry. He seized her with both hands – gripping both of her shoulders in a lethal hold. Indeed, his grasp was snugger than the hangman’s noose. Regaining orientation, he stared into her eyes and panted between heavy intakes of air. Fear bloomed inside Ariah’s gut as she examined him from head to toe. He was dressed in undergarments and not a thread more.

  Wearing little more than a nightgown, she was scantily clad, too. And he was holding her painfully close. Intimately close. A flurry of emotions crossed his features: pain, sorrow, hatred … and finally realization. The powerful expanse of his chest rose and sank, manipulated by strained breathing. The bandage had fallen loose from his tossing and turning. It hung from his flesh, exposing a large portion of the wound. Even within the darkness, the skin appeared red, angry, and warped.

  But most intimidating were his eyes. Despair and something else – something Ariah couldn’t quite place her finger on – radiated from their depths.

  She felt the air vacate her lungs as she was thrust across the mattress. Gabriel hovered above, pressing against her, all shadow and torn emotion. The powerful expanse of his form was painful to endure. Sweat plastered her nightgown against his chest, binding them as one.

  Panic seized her. A single thought flashed through her mind: escape. She attempted to scream, but no sound emerged. Her heart pounded, her breaths shortened, the very room appeared to rotate and slope. She beat at his chest with both fists, wildly thrashing – behaving like a wounded animal caught in a trap. Nothing.

  It’s too much … far too much …

  “Let me go! Why … why are you doing this? Release me! Now!”

  With a wild cry, she attempted to dislodge herself from his body. But he was worlds faster and stronger. In a deft movement, he latched onto her wrists and pinned both arms high above her head.

  Tension and heat dominated the silence. Her chest heaved, straining against the material of her nightdress. The cotton drew taut, and moonlight illuminated the curves of her breasts. The warm caress of Gabriel’s breath fanned against her cheek like a kiss. She felt his manhood grow against her. It expanded to frightful proportions, jutting into her stomach at a prominent angle. All the while, his eyes bore into hers, calculating, pained, and deadly. Unable to endure his stare a moment longer, she looked away – turning her face to the side.

  For the first time in over seven years, she knew defeat.

  She was quite certain he wouldn’t cause her any harm or disgrace – yet she needed to be free of this show of dominance. In the heat of the moment, a promising thought passed her mind: if she moved swiftly enough, she could reach her dagger …

  As if reading her thoughts, Gabriel pressed her wrists together and secured them with a single hand. The other snatched onto the curve of her chin and aligned her face with his own. His fingertips curled against her skin in a merciless, demanding touch. His gaze burned into hers with the force of molten lava. When he spoke, his voice was a decadent, low rumble. “Tut-tut. Not a good idea.”

  “Please. Just let me go.”

  Ariah shivered as a low chuckle resonated against her body. The husky baritone seeped into her flesh and thrummed through her veins – she felt it deep inside.

  Despite the cold weather, Ariah felt unbearably hot and clammy. Sweat formed along her brow and she fought to catch her breath.

  “Look at me. Look at what you have saved.” Gabriel released her chin and tore away the bandage in a harsh movement. As his eyes bore into her own, pale moonlight fell upon the deformity, illuminating the twisted flesh and grotesque welts. The sight reminded Ariah of a beautiful chateau … a stunning fortress situated along the coastline … one that had fallen into ruin and neglect. The skin was concave, destroyed, cavernous – a remnant of former glory. And the surrounding features – his burning eyes, the right side of his face, his powerful body – dwarfed the disfigurement with a striking beauty.

  “Look at the monster you have created. Look upon my face, Ariah.”

  She shivered at the sound of her name; slightly muffled from the injury to his mouth, it slid from his tongue with equal parts venom and hunger.

  “I was supposed to die that night …” The last of his words ended in a choked whisper. His face fell forward in despair until his forehead was pressed against her own. He was impossibly close. And he appeared every gram a flesh-and-blood warrior – coarse and ruthlessly untamed. Sweltering heat radiated from his body and engulfed all five of her senses. She was suffocating. Visions of that long-ago night echoed in her mind until she could perceive nothing else. Ariah gave a shallow cry as she struggled to free herself once more.

  “Don’t. Don’t leave me. Please.”

  Her movements ceased. The words struck a chord deep inside her chest. She connected her gaze with his and was rendered speechless by the naked anguish in his stare. Regret and desire were etched in every line of his face – but what stole her breath was something entirely different. For the second time, it was neither anger nor resentment that radiated from his eyes, but a longing so intense that it nearly overwhelmed her: hope.

  Regaining her courage, Ariah combatted a decade of fear and reached out to him. She trailed an unsteady hand through the thick waves of his hair and attempted to calm him with whatever comfort she could provide. Fanning against her neck in a dense cloud, Gabriel’s breaths grew steadier with each caress. Then his muscles slowly eased and fell l
imp within the circle of her arms. Emotion pressed hard on Ariah’s chest, making it difficult to breathe, difficult to think. As his steel mask fell away, her heart burned for his vulnerability and desperation; he was a proud man who’d endured horrors she could never imagine. And yet, within this moment, he was no different than a lost child aching for comfort.

  “You are wrong. You are no monster. I have seen evil. I have seen true monsters … and you, Gabriel de Laurent, are just a man like any other man. That’s what I see. Strength. A man who brings a smile to a little girl’s face …” His hold on her wrists loosened with each word. Ariah lifted a hand to his looming face and gently grazed a fingertip over the marred flesh. It was rigid and coarse, twisted and corrupt. And yet it concealed a delicate soul that was in jeopardy of fading away forever.

  He trembled against her. Ariah craned her neck as she battled to make out the angular lines of his face. “I see a man who is still handsome, who is noble, and who is, above all other things, a fighter.”

  He collapsed on top of her body and buried his face in the curve of her shoulder. Ariah exhaled a sigh of relief as he quivered against her breast. Then she embraced him with both arms and traced invisible circles along the length of his back. Up, down, up, down. Sweat drenched the sleek planes of his body and glistened like tears. Her fingertips cascaded over the thick ropes of muscle. She felt the tension ease within – and alongside it, her own fears gradually fell away. Then, without second thought, she inclined her face and inhaled his essence. Sandalwood and winter. His scent had a strange calming effect, and Ariah found herself relaxing in his arms.

  “Yes. You are quite right. I … I am afraid. But it’s not your face I fear. Not your face, and not this cruel façade you force upon me. How blind do you think I am? You do not fool me, Gabriel. My fears run much deeper than your scars. The thing I fear lives inside me.”