The Gates of Gabriel

by Marie-France Leger

  “I prefer to keep my heart intact,” he spoke flatly, analyzing the new black button up. He snagged the slacks and dress shirt, making his way for the bathroom.

  Before he shut the door, his eyes met mine, shimmering with grey sparkle. “At least for now.”

  ◆◆◆

  I pushed away my heavy conversation with Beau earlier, and patted down my grey bodycon dress. I wanted to talk to him about everything, about his past, about whatever hurt him. But I was determined to make this night lighthearted, fun. It’s technically his birthday… and he made mine quite eventful. I’d like to return the favour.

  I strapped on some nude heels that I saw at the boutique, and made my way to the floor length mirror. Not too bad, Maya. My dress was relatively short, with slight ruffles at the bottom and thin spaghetti straps. It hugged my frame perfectly, the scoop neckline giving my breasts a little lift. Honestly, Mags would have been proud of me.

  Mags.

  Is she safe? Is Tommy?

  I couldn’t help but worry. What if Beau’s grace didn’t hold up, and Marina or Siles got to both of them? Snap out of it Maya, just call her. So I did.

  Three rings. “Hello?”

  A sigh of relief flooded over me. “Mags, you’re okay.”

  “Barely, Marina decided to pay a vis… – Give me the phone! – Leave it, Tom – Sorry Maya, Tommy’s been frantic ever since it happened.” Mags said.

  My heart raced. Marina tracked down Mags instantly, could she have found my dad? Did she get in?

  “Mags, what happened? Where is she?” I paced around the room, biting my nails.

  “You would have been so proud of me Maya. I showed the bitch!” I heard Mags clap and Tommy grunt in the background. “She tried to get in, but whatever mojo Beau did to protect us really kicked her ass. She couldn’t make it through the door!”

  Every muscle in my body relaxed. Phew, so his grace really did work. At least they were safe. That means my dad is okay. “Where is she now?”

  Silence.

  “Mags?” I questioned. “Mags.”

  Mags cleared her throat, speaking lowly. “Erhm… I – think she’s dead? She might be dead. She’s just laying in the door entrance limp, like a dead fish.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought. Am I really laughing at the fact a demon is dead in front of my best friend? My humour must be broken. Though, a surge of relief inundated my body. If Marina really was dead, then that eliminated one extra threat. But Mags never mentioned Siles, only Marina. Crap.

  “Was Siles with her?” I demanded, drawing my hair up into a ponytail.

  A sharp response. “No.”

  It never fully sunk into me that Mags, throughout whatever torture Siles put her through, developed a relationship with him. I thought it was absolutely absurd that she even cared in the first place – he manipulated her, used her. Though, I guess being attached to someone, even if you aren’t consciously aware holds a greater emotion than I will ever be able to understand. But… you do understand.

  “Where are you?” Mags interrupted my thoughts.

  Various different noises sounded from the bathroom, followed by the faint squeak of the tap turning on.

  I cleared my throat, knowing Mags would lose her mind over Beau and I staying at a hotel alone together. Even though our lives were far from normal, some mundane romantic angst was enough to make her forget an earthquake.

  “I’m uh – Beau and I are going to hit the road again tomorrow. We’re just at a hotel right now.” I left it at that.

  The line was silent for a few moments and then a shrill shriek pierced my eardrum.

  “Ah! You and Beau are at a hotel, right now? Maya, Maya this is huge. Did you pack lingerie? Did you shave? Oh – what about that lotion we bought from –”

  I heard the tap shut off from the bathroom and the fumbling of the doorknob.

  “Mags, I’ll call you later, glad you’re safe. I love you.”

  Protest. “Wait –”

  But I hung up as soon as Beau stepped out.

  A tingly sensation ran down the back of my arms, finding its way to the tips of my fingers. Beau leaned against the doorframe, rolling up the sleeves of his black dress shirt. I dug my nail into the crease of my palm, attempting to focus on anything but him… yeah, it was impossible. The black slacks I got him reached just above his ankle, shaping his quads perfectly. His dark button down was undone, revealing the golden cross my mother gave him against his tan skin. A speckle of grey twinkled in his eyes as he ran his fingers through his midnight hair, roughing it up.

  I’ve fallen in love with so many fictional characters in stories, described in such a way like him, but to see it with my own eyes was ethereal. He was an angel… dressed like a devil.

  Through my trance, I almost didn’t realize him come towards me, picking up my hand and twirling me to a spin. He pulled me against his body, lacing us together. His fingers trailed down my spine, halting just above my tailbone. He let them linger a while longer before lightly pulling the elastic out of my ponytail.

  His grey eyes seared into mine like fire, burning with intensity. “I like your hair down,” he released.

  My brown waves cascaded down the sides of my face, camouflaging my blushed cheeks. I opened my mouth to say something, anything to show my feigned disgust, but I didn’t have any. Beau Gabriel quite literally took my breath away.

  He twirled me again, halting me halfway so that my back was against his chest. He kept one arm locked around my middle, and the other tracing the curve of my hip.

  His lips found the crook my neck, brushing lightly over thin skin. “I should’ve finished what I started in your kitchen.”

  I swallowed hard, blood rushing to my cheeks. Our kiss.

  He released me and stepped back with a smirk, giving my body a look down. “Can I make you a drink?” he asked innocently, holding up a bottle of tequila.

  I gasped. He knew exactly what he was doing. No, no, no. You can not have this effect on me any longer. Two can play that game.

  I marched towards the sole table in our room and grabbed the liquor out of his hands. My eyes never left his as I took a swig of tequila, and pushed the bottle hard against his chest.

  He bit the inside of his cheek, wearing a half grin.

  With all the confidence I had in me, I fluffed my hair and stepped forward. “Your move.” I winked.

  Chapter 39

  Pinestone, 14 hours

  “So we just wait here until Maya gets back?” Tommy asked through panic breaths.

  Since hours had passed, Mags thought that Tommy would’ve calmed down by now, but even she couldn’t comprehend her own tranquility. Shock, it has to be shock.

  Mags nodded, sitting at the edge of the bed. She watched Tommy cross his legs, picking a scab on his knee. She’d never seen him in such a disoriented state before. His hair was disheveled and it looked like he hadn’t showered for days… Smelt like it too. Mags didn’t blame him though, she couldn’t. Even though Braum’s dad was a horrible father, seeing his mutilated corpse would have sent anyone over the deep end. Not only that, Ky was dead… Tommy’s best friend in the entire world, besides Braum who was completely off the grid.

  “Are Maya and Beau…” Tommy began but quickly cut himself off. “Never mind.”

  Mags stared blankly at the wall, zoning out before registering what Tommy had asked. She immediately darted her eyes to him in discontent.

  “Never mind is right.” She combatted. End of discussion. Mags pulled out her phone and made her way for the door. “I’m going to call Maya, but please, for the love of God Tommy, take a shower. You have time.”

  Tommy grunted. “I don’t even have clean clothes.”

  One thing Mags believed in was ‘self-care on sadness Saturdays.” Saturdays are the end of a week, so cry it out to prepare for sunny Sundays. She understood Tommy’s zombie-like state, hell if she let herself feel it she would probably be worse, but it disgusted her that he wanted
to live in his own filth for a second longer.

  She walked to the closet and pulled out one of Beau’s t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants, throwing it at Tommy’s face. “Maybe Beau’s closet can give you some insight on how to dress.”

  Mags’ phone vibrated violently in her pocket. She nudged her head forward to Tommy then quickly shut the door behind her.

  Maya. Good God what a relief. “Hello?”

  “Mags, you’re okay.” Her tone was shaky and panicked, but Mags reassured her that everything was fine.

  She explained to Maya what had happened with Marina, boasting her accomplishment. “You would have been so proud of me Maya!” Mags added.

  When Maya asked about Siles, Mags’ smile drooped low. Even though she didn’t remember much of their time together, the feeling lingered – the feeling of being in love. In the cellar, Siles called her ‘Maggie,’ a name practically extinct to everyone around her. Did he care? He couldn’t.

  Mags didn’t let him get her down. He was dangerous, he wanted to end her life. He’s a demon. That is what she told herself and that is what got her by… even if she didn’t believe it.

  Then Maya told Mags she was alone in a hotel with Beau, which sent her somber state into an opposing bliss. Beau the angel is about to commit one hell of a sin, Mags snickered to herself.

  After Maya hung up, Mags leaned sluggishly against the wall, listening to the faint hum of the shower. She slumped down and drew her knees up, burying her face in her hands. A small tear escaped her eye, finding its way to her lips. She didn’t feel anything, she didn’t let herself, but her body couldn’t handle it anymore.

  She sobbed until she felt lightheaded, and her consciousness pushed her into a deep sleep.

  ◆◆◆

  Mags hadn’t realized that she dozed off. It was only when she heard her name being called that she woke up. How long has it been?

  She rubbed her eyes, scanning the familiar surroundings of the wood cabin walls. She pulled out her phone and saw that four hours had passed. How the hell did I manage to sleep on the ground? I definitely needed the rest.

  With one light shove, she twisted her body around and opened the bedroom door behind her. Tommy was sound asleep, curled up against the wall in a wool blanket. If Tommy isn’t calling my name, then who…

  “Mags!” A familiar voice yelled. A male voice, one that echoed in her mind every second.

  With weary steps, she tiptoed her way to the open entrance, swallowing back the frog that tried to pry its way out of her throat.

  Marina was gone.

  And in her place, he stood.

  His ashy blonde hair swooped over his forehead, tangled. He wore black trousers that were ripped up the sides and his chest was oozing with pus, bruised and beaten. Down his torso, an infected, scabbed word was carved in his flesh: COWARD.

  Mags shuddered, staring at the dark plum circle encasing his left eye and below it, a gaping cut from his ear to his chin.

  Tears waterfalled down Mags’ cheeks, she couldn’t help it. Whatever happened to him, whoever hurt him, had the intent to make him suffer. An empathetic pain filled her limbic system. She slowly walked up to the open entrance, placing her hand flat against the grace-fueled barrier.

  “S – Siles?” Mags asked, stuttering. She couldn’t believe that he was standing before her. “What… what happened to you?”

  She analyzed his features, whatever features she could make out clearly. There were barely any.

  He swallowed hard, searching for something within Mags’ eyes. He bit down hard on his bottom teeth and crouched to the ground, running his fingers through the soil.

  “She was here, wasn’t she?” he began, crumbling dirt in his palm. “Did she hurt you?”

  Mags pulled her hand away from the entrance and crossed her arms over her chest. “Marina? No, no. She – she couldn’t get inside.”

  Siles stood up and looked to Mags with weak eyes. "Good."

  Mags swallowed hard. She didn’t know what Siles wanted or how he found her, but she assumed it wasn’t anything good. She wanted to channel that same adrenaline, that indestructible power she had facing off to Marina, but Siles was different. She felt weak, small… vulnerable.

  “Are you here to kill me?” Mags asked, her voice cracking. “You can’t. You can’t get through. Beau – he sealed the door, you can’t –”

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Siles interrupted softly. “Maggie.”

  Heat rose to her face. Maggie. “Then why… Why are you here?”

  Silence.

  “She’s – she’s going to kill Maya, isn’t she?” Mags asked through chattering teeth. She knew that answer to that question.

  Marina was alive. She told Maya hours ago that she wasn’t, but she was, and she was out for blood. That much, Mags knew. But what she didn’t understand was why Siles came to her.

  He nodded his head slowly. Silence followed for a few moments before he turned to face Mags. “I’m going to stop her.”

  Mags didn’t know how to feel. He only recently tried to kill her, controlled her for months but now he was trying to stop Marina? Was this a trap? Could she even trust him? Why would she?

  But a part of her did. He released her from his control, and Mags couldn’t decipher why. There were so many questions, but if Marina wasn’t dead, she would make sure Maya was. That was the priority.

  Mags knew she couldn’t leave, even if she wanted to. She had to trust Siles; it was her only option.

  “Why are you doing this?” Mags asked, tears glossing her vision. “Why do you want to help?”

  Siles’ expression was inscrutable. He turned away from Mags, looking off into the distance. When he turned back to her, his eyes were crimson, fading slowly to the shade of a Spring clover. He clenched his fist, as sparks began to fizzle beneath his palm, burning the soil beneath him to ash.

  “I no longer side with Lucifer.”

  Chapter 40

  Beech County, 14 Hours

  Beau and I stopped at the first pub closest to our hotel, the Jack Rabbit. It was decently busy, and we were definitely way too overdressed to blend in with the crowd of mid-thirties wearing jean jackets and flannels.

  Upon entry, several people looked in our direction which skyrocketed my anxiety. If it weren’t for the few shots of tequila I had, I would have run for the hills by now.

  Beau wrapped his arm around my waist, digging his fingers into my hip as we passed by a table full of bikers catcalling me. He darted his eyes in their direction, holding his stare until we made it to the actual bar.

  “What gives?” I giggled, innocently. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it, but I had to ask all the same.

  He released me from his grasp, watching the biker table like a hawk. In a tense motion, he bumped the side of his fist against the bar twice then turned his attention to me.

  He chuckled, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he spoke to the bartender who was an older brunette covered in tattoos.

  “Two shots of gin,” Beau smirked. “And can I send a couple of mixed drinks to the table in the corner?” The bikers. What is he doing?

  The brunette pursed her lips, flipping two shot glasses upside down. “You know Barny and Suds? Boy, I really wouldn’t dare try them kid.”

  She slid us the two shots of gin and shook her head with a smile. Behind me, I could hear the bikers whistling and slamming down their beers. Even through the blaring classic rock, I made out the sound of shattering glass coming from their direction.

  “Reece!” An overweight biker with a southern accent called. He was looking at the bartender. “Get your ass over here, will ya darlin’? Suds broke a mug.” Roaring laughter rose from the group.

  Beau slapped a twenty on the bar. “Don’t forget to put that little umbrella in their cocktails.” He winked.

  The bartender half-smiled and pointed a finger at Beau, snagging the twenty and shoving it in her pocket. “You’re good kid,” she laughed.

&nb
sp; She stirred two fizzy orange drinks, plopping two paper umbrellas inside and made her way to the table of six bikers.

  I immediately turned to Beau with wide eyes, my palms sweating. “What was the point of that?”

  He threw back his gin shot and dragged his pointer across his top lip, clearing the alcohol that glossed the corner of his mouth. I blushed.

  “Drink,” he nudged the shot glass to my hand. “It’s good for you.”

  He laughed out loud, playful and innocent, watching me intently. I could tell the alcohol was starting to hit him. His cheeks were flushed rosy and his grey eyes twinkled a shade brighter.

  I shook my head with a smile and took the shot back, before turning around to two of the bikers standing right behind Beau and I.

  They smelled of cigars and gasoline, sending the gin almost straight up my esophagus. The one on the left had curly black hair covered by a red bandana. On his neck was a tattoo of an eagle spread across his throat. He wore a leather vest and a brown buckle with a hammered, metal symbol. The biker standing next to Beau was the one who called for the bartender earlier. Up close, he looked even more repulsive. A pearl scar sliced his eye and his teeth were yellow and crooked.

  “This some kind of joke, punk?” The one with the scar asked, holding up the cocktail Beau ordered to their table.

  Beau stood up as if he had a death wish, leaving little to no space between him and the biker. He gave him a look down with disdain, before flashing a saccharine smile.

  “Barny and Suds, I take it?” Beau laughed. “I don’t even get a thank you?”

  I wanted to yell at him right then and there. The room started to spin and the flashing lights blurred together in a spiral of random colours.

  I placed my hand on his shoulder and stood up, attempting to control my buzz. “Beau, let’s just go.”

  The biker with the neck tattoo stepped forward, biting down on his knuckles. “Well would you look at that pretty thing,” he clicked his tongue, inspecting me with beady eyes. “Be lyin’ if I said I didn’t notice those legs when you opened the door. Think you can open somethin’ else –”