“Do you want me to drop you off at home?” Mags asked, turning down the car radio.
We were approaching the cemetery near the church, where my mom was buried. It was about fifteen minutes from my house so I knew I could just walk home. I wanted to visit her, talk to her, even if she wasn’t physically present. Every year I would go there and bring her flowers with my dad. He never remarried after her, just nose-dived into ample amounts of work to get his mind off of it. I didn’t blame him.
“Actually, can you just drop me off at the cemetery?” I asked, unbuckling my seatbelt.
“Yeah, of course.”
After a few more minutes of driving, we turned into the small gravel entryway and she let me out on the side. “Call me if you need a ride, okay? There’s a rain warning for tonight.”
I nodded and closed the door, watching her drive off onto the country road.
The tall metal gates welcomed me, creaking as I stepped through. It was fairly cloudy without a trace of sunlight and a grey mist swept the ground. Fitting for today, I thought.
I walked past the rows and rows of marble tombstones, scanning over the names of lost loved ones with stories I knew nothing about. They all meant something, though, to someone. It was sad.
I rounded the corner and took in a heavy breath, wearily approaching the final tombstone to the left. The blue roses from last year were brittle and lifeless, crumbling apart at the touch. I swallowed back the sob prying its way out of my throat, strangling the familiar sadness I’ve encountered year after year. It never gets easier.
The barren soil pricked my legs as I knelt down and brushed my fingers over the engravement:
In Loving Memory of -
Sophie Brixton
1962-2010
Fly High to the Heavens
A tear escaped my eye, then more, and more. It never got easier visiting my mom, knowing that six feet below me she was just a pile of bones. She was alive once; a breathing, human being. She held me, cared for me, raised me. Even though her touch was but a distant memory, I could still feel it on my skin, lingering every time I closed my eyes.
“Hi mom,” I whimpered, wiping at my cheek. “I miss you, so much. Y’know, dad he’s – he’s going to make that vanilla buttercream cake that you used to make, the one with the butterscotch chips. He’s going to butcher it so hard.” I chuckled through sniffles, shaking my head. “I wish you were here.”
“I got into MU for Cognitive Psych, so that’s exciting. I’m going to head up there in a few months with Mags. You’ve never met her but you would’ve loved her. I bought a dress for my birthday tomorrow.” The gentle pat of a raindrop hit my forehead, followed by heavier pellets. Damnit.
I rose up from the grass and wiped off my knees. “I better go mom, it’s going to rain. I love you… I love you so much.”
Just as I was about to turn around, I heard a rustling behind me. I whipped my head back to check, but no one was there. The wind began to howl and the leaves drifted against the tombstones, slapping them with light force. I swallowed hard, carefully making my way back to the direction of the exit, when the rain started to pick up harder.
In the distance, I could make out a shaded figure, moving in the shadows. I slowed my pace down, confused as to why someone would be visiting in the middle of a rainstorm. Stop sketching out Maya, it’s probably just the gravedigger.
But the closer he came, the more I seemed to recognize him. It was a man, wearing a fitted black peacoat and black boots. His hair was dark and he was holding what looked to be flowers. Roses, blue roses.
My mom’s favourite flower.
My heart stopped when his frame came into view, and the rain no longer hid his features. In that very moment, everything around me faded into a blurry horizon. I stopped in my tracks, faltering as he approached. It can’t be.
His familiar grey eyes burned into mine when he stopped in front of me, flashing a sweet but mystifying smile.
“I knew I’d see you around,” said Beau Gabriel.
Chapter 4
Kleaton’s Gate, 2010
Beau had watched Sophie every day since Gabriel had visited him in New Orleans. He had acquainted himself with every bit of information there was to learn about her. She worked at the local hospital as a nurse and volunteered at the church on weekends. Everywhere she went, people seemed to know her. Though she seemed ordinary to Beau, everyone adored Sophie.
It bothered Beau, living in a small city with little to no excitement. He missed travelling to different countries, sampling different cuisines, sleeping with different women. To him, Kleaton’s Gate seemed like the type of place where the elderly went to die and the young aged hastily.
The night that Sophie was to be murdered, Beau went out drinking at Jinx, a crummy pub in the rougher part of town. He slammed his hand on the bar and requested a couple rounds of drinks.
“Tequila, mister…” his eyes danced around the heavy bartender’s name tag. “Can I call you, Bones?” he laughed.
The bartender rolled his eyes and scratched his beard, walking away to make the order. Beau looked around at the dark atmosphere. There were dilapidated dart boards and rusty steel tables lining the sides of the forest green walls. Pictures of classic rock stars covered the patch-up jobs the pub couldn’t possibly afford. The crowd itself was mostly older men and women, with a few obviously underaged teens scattered around.
“$19.50,” the bartender spat, sliding over the alcohol.
Beau quickly rolled his stool around and smiled. “I’ll give you a twenty, just ‘cause I’m feeling generous.”
The bartender cursed under his breath and stomped to the back. Beau looked around and quickly grabbed the bottle of Patrón tequila next to the cash, hiding it under his peacoat.
He was making his way towards the door when the bartender noticed and started to yell. “Hey! Get back here you fucking rat!”
But Beau was gone, using his grace to make himself invisible. When the bartender came to check and saw nothing, he went back inside and slammed the door with a heavy grunt.
Beau walked a few blocks and took a seat by an empty trash can, right next to a park. He took a swig of the tequila and stared up at the sky. “I prefer this view anyways,” he said, closing his eyes.
◆◆◆
“Are you all right?” A kind woman asked Beau.
He woke in a hurry, looking down at the near empty bottle of Patrón. Then his eyes met hers.
Sophie Brixton.
She was beautiful up close, but not in a tacky way. Her brown eyes gleamed with golden flecks, even in the night. She had a silver cross pendant draped around her neck, just like in the vision he had seen when he looked into Gabriel’s eyes. She was wearing a white maxi skirt and a navy blue sweater, carrying a small brown bag. Sophie was walking to the bus stop after she had just finished teaching an adult bible study.
Beau shook his head and sat up, rubbing his eyes.
“Here, let me help you,” she smiled, extending a hand.
But Beau didn’t take it. He swallowed hard and got up on his own, realizing this was the night she was to be murdered. She stepped back and grabbed something out of her purse: a necklace with a small golden cross.
“Here,” she whispered. “Whatever troubles you will heal in time. Take it and remember that the light will always prevail.”
Beau was hesitant at first, staring at her features while he still could. He seemed to remember all of the mistakes he had made while on Earth, just looking at her. Her face was pure and soft as she smiled at him, nudging once more for him to take the cross. So he did, and wrapped it gently in his palm.
He watched her walk away, into the darkness, a fleeting white aura following until… Bang! Bang!
Beau crouched behind the trash can and watched as a man dressed in full black ran into view. He was holding the little brown bag Sophie had once held, and a gun.
The world stopped spinning for Beau. A multitude of colours amassed together, blending
into one from every angle he looked. Sirens rang in his ears as he stepped away from the scene, taking in every bit of motion. He peered down at his shaky hands, staring at the golden cross she had just given him. He inhaled once and bit down hard, clenching the pendant tightly.
When gravity could no longer stabilize Beau, he collapsed to his knees and watched the paramedics pull out a stretcher, retrieving the lifeless corpse disguised in a white sheet.
Sophie Brixton died on June 23rd, 2010 at 9:34pm.
Chapter 5
Kleaton’s Gate, Present Day
Rain pattered against my forehead as I stared into Beau Gabriel’s eyes. A million thoughts crossed my mind but I couldn’t focus on any of them. I just stood there in bewilderment, sewn to the ground beneath me.
“Hi,” he smiled. “Do you mind?” he asked, holding up the blue roses in his hand.
I watched him move past me and walk towards my mom’s tombstone. He bent down and touched the soil, creating a small bed for the flowers.
When the wave of shocked had fizzled out, I wearily trudged towards him and tugged at his coat. “Are you following me? How do you know my mom?”
He got up and dusted off his knees, but didn’t answer.
“Is the rain too loud for you? Can you not hear me?” I demanded, harshly. “Who are you?”
The assertiveness of my tone caught me off guard, but I couldn’t fathom addressing him in any other way. I didn’t know Beau Gabriel, at all. If he was truly following me, then I didn’t care how I came across, even to him.
Rain pellets clouded my vision, sinking into my skin. “How are you here, Beau?” I was losing my patience.
He ran his fingers through his dark, wet hair and turned to me. Those grey eyes flashed into mine, matching the sky above. His stare was blank, unreadable, sending a cold shiver down my spine.
“I drove.”
Sarcasm. The rain picked up harder, pouring down from the sky like bullets. A distant boom of thunder startled me which Beau snickered at.
“Scared of a little thunder?” he provoked, walking towards the cemetery gate.
I shielded my eyes with my hand and followed quickly behind him, determined to get some answers. “Beau –” I started.
“Maya.” He said flatly, facing forward.
“You didn’t answer any of my questions! Who the hell are you?”
Another acidly laugh. “Beau Gabriel, but you already knew that.”
A tsunami of discomfiture hit me like a truck, just like every other encounter I’ve had with him. Puddles of dirty rainwater filled my path, unavoidable yet undetectable. I cursed under my breath as my new white sneakers plummeted into the mud, which seemed to fuel Beau’s amusement even more.
I finally got a grip of his coat and pulled him backwards, just before the exit. I could taste the smeared-off mascara fibres trailing onto my lips as I narrowed my eyes.
“You brought my mom blue roses,” I huffed, swallowing drops of rain. “That was her favourite flower.”
He stared at me with narrow eyes, pursing his lips. He said nothing.
I felt weak, small, desperate. “You knew her, Beau. How did you know her?” It didn’t make any sense. I visited her grave every year since she had passed away, and I never once saw Beau.
Thunder rumbled in the air as the rain poured down violently through the clouds.
He looked up towards the sky and squinted at me. “Let me give you a ride home,” he finally said.
My eyes grew wide, frantic. “Are you insane?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe, but the rain is only going to get worse.”
I crossed my arms, scoffing with frustration. “I’m walking home.”
An orchestra of thunder roared forcefully in the sky. “Your funeral,” he mocked, glancing at the tombstones behind me. Hilarious.
I knew for a fact he was right, but I wasn’t about to get into a car with a complete stranger who I knew absolutely nothing about. He wasn’t deaf, he heard all of my questions. Was he purposely trying to antagonize me? Did he even know my mom or was he just stalking me? He’s crazy, he has to be.
And yet, for some inexplicable reason, I wanted to go with him. The thought of being alone with him frightened me, but excited me at the same time. I couldn’t rationalize it even to myself, but for some reason, it made sense.
“Look, whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you. Just don’t walk home in this.” He pointed upwards without taking his eyes off of mine.
No, don’t give in. I planted my legs firmly in the ground, shivering. “Tell me now.”
He bit down hard on his jaw, focusing on me. His eyes were searching for something within mine, I could tell. What they were searching for? That’s as big of a mystery as Beau Gabriel was.
“Trust me,” he released, breathing in deeply.
I stared at him in bewilderment, forcing down every snappy insult that tried to pry its away out of my throat. I shoved past him, clenching my chattering jaw before he caught my arm.
“Your mother was very important to me,” he admitted, sheepishly.
I found desperation in his voice, helplessness; like a child who was begging for his favourite toy. He slowly let go of my arm as I stood back, studying his expression through the hazy grey atmosphere. He couldn’t hold my gaze, staring down at the mud. His peacoat clung to him like second skin, and his dark haired swooped down over his forehead in zig-zags. When he finally met my eyes, I took a step closer. I don’t know what possessed me to feel what I felt, but a part of me trusted him.
I swallowed hard and bit my lip. “We better go.” I released, waiting for regret to suffocate my conscience.
He nodded briskly, pushing open the metal gate for me to walk through.
“Stand under there.” Beau directed to a little woodshed just outside the cemetery. “I’ll bring the car around.” Then, he disappeared into the rain.
What am I doing? I barely know him. Can I even trust him? He gave me nothing. Then why do I trust him?
A few moments later, a black Porsche came into view, pulling up in front of me. I took in a breath and shook my head, silencing my brain. Award for the biggest dumbass goes to me, I thought. And I got in the car.
◆◆◆
“You warm enough?” Beau asked, turning up the heater.
The car itself was probably under a year old; matte black seats, all leather interior. The radio system glowed red, blinking every time the base dropped. What does he do for a living? Jesus. He didn’t have many things inside, though. There was a black ice air freshener hooked onto his mirror, a stack of mint gum in his disc compartment, a silver ring and a pair of dark brown aviators in his cup holder.
When we came to a stop, Beau quickly peeled off his black peacoat and threw it in the backseat. He was wearing a grey t-shirt that stuck to every curve of his torso perfectly. As he lifted his arm to turn the steering wheel, I caught a glimpse of his large tattoo, spiraling up his skin like black vines.
“What is that?” I asked abruptly.
He reached for a piece of gum and tore the plastic wrap between his teeth. “What?”
I blushed. “Your tattoo.”
It caught my eye the first time I’d met him, but I didn’t get a thorough look at it until now. It started at the base of his forearm, a shaded web of speckled black lines, then continued further up his arm, coiling up his skin like snakes all the way up to his shoulder. What puzzled me was the lack of detail; it appeared to be just a bevy of line segments. What an odd tattoo.
“It’s a cover up,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road.
Cover up? Of what? There was absolutely no trace of scarring, not even in the slim cervices that weren’t shaded by dark ink.
A glimmer of gold caught my eye, poking out from underneath the neckline of his shirt; a golden cross, the same one I saw him wearing at the station. It shone against his tan skin, glowing seemingly brighter the longer I looked at it.
I forced my eyes shut and turne
d my attention forward. “What did you cover up?”
He looked at me quickly and smirked, raising goosebumps to the surface of my skin. “Nosy, are we?”
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
The golden cross around his neck flashed in my peripheral vision again, sending a shiver down my spine. A magnetic pull of energy kept my eyes from wandering off, and before I could think, the words came out of my mouth.
“Are you religious or something?” I blurted. I was aware of the fact that people wore crosses as accessories, but for some reason, that didn’t feel like the case with him.
“Sorry,” I shook my head, afraid to even face Beau’s reaction. “I know that’s a personal question but I –”
He interrupted me and chuckled, taking in a breath before responding. “I guess you could say that.”
I kept quiet for a few minutes, remembering the reason why I was in Beau’s car in the first place. He knew my mom, he brought her flowers. There were so many unanswered questions, and yet here I was sitting comfortably in Beau’s passenger seat, engaging in small talk.
I was too engulfed in my thoughts that I hadn’t even realized we pulled into a Starbucks drive thru.
“Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Beau said, smirking at me. “The origins of our meeting point.”
He rested his hand on the gear shift, and I found my eyes analyzing every vein that popped from beneath his tanned skin. They were apparent, visible, pulsing underneath his flesh the tighter he held his grip on the stick.
I dismissed the butterflies that fluttered in my stomach. “Why are we here?” I asked, wringing out my hair.
“A man needs his coffee,” he said. “Can you grab my wallet in the glove box?”
The Gates of Gabriel Page 3