Gabriel (15 page)

“Before who did?” I demanded.

“I'm not sure. D-daddy only told me that she came and asked us to seek out the girl, said she needed saving, like,” she stuttered, taken aback by my outburst.

“Saving from
what
? Saving from
who
, Iona?” My hands clenched tightly around the mug and my cheeks burned.

Who had she wanted to protect me from? The Purebloods? The Arch Angels?

Iona fidgeted uncomfortably where she sat. “Saving from herself, I think.”

What? My thoughts tumbled. Had my mother wanted me saved from what I had now become?

“Where is this Angel, Iona? Where can I find her?” The question left my lips so fast that I couldn't be sure she'd heard me.

“I dunno.”

“I need to, I
have
to know. Did your father tell Fergal? He's in charge now, right? He knows where she is?”

“Brooke! Your hands!” Iona leaped up from her chair and ran into the kitchen. She rushed back over, thrusting a tea towel over my hands. I'd crushed the porcelain and the scalding-hot water was drenching my skin. I hadn't even noticed.

Prying the broken pieces from my clutch, she grazed her finger against a serrated edge, causing her thin skin to split. The faintest trickle of blood dropped onto the table as she withdrew.

My eyes darted to the tear in her skin, and before I knew it, I had her by the scruff of her cardigan.

Iona yelped and my fangs cracked as I touched her soft skin against my lips, inhaling her scent. But, for whatever reason, she didn't appeal to me.

“Erm, sorry to interrupt, I need a word.” A shrill voice found me through the haze of crimson clouding my vision. I paused, and I loosened my grasp on Iona.

I took a deep breath, coming back to myself. I placed my hand over my mouth and, as I peered up, Iona did a double take. I worried that she had caught sight of my red bulbs burning out.

The scream that escaped Iona's lips told me that she'd seen too much.

Iona looked from me to the pale stranger who stood outside the door frame, eventually resting her vigilant stare back on me. I didn't say anything, allowing time for my fangs to recede and my eyes to soften.

Iona darted backward. Reaching behind the sofa, she pulled out a silver blade. Unsure of whom to feel more threatened by: the girl she had befriended who, moments ago, had her by the scruff; or the random visitor who had appeared from thin air and was now lingering in the doorway of her makeshift home.

“Brooke, who is that?” Iona bumbled. She kept her eyes glued to the entranceway but pointed and waved the dagger in my direction.

“It's okay. I know her.” I collected myself, trying to pacify Iona.

“Brooke, huh?” the girl said, arching an eyebrow. “I guess that makes me Lailah.”

 

TWELVE

I
ONA DIDN'T REACT TO
the mention of my name, so I said, “It's okay. Everything's fine. I can explain—but first, I need to speak with … her. Please, just stay here.”

I cautiously stepped around Iona and followed Brooke outside. Taking her arm, I shuffled her farther from the motor home.

“What are you doing here?” I said. “How'd you even know where I was?”

Brooke swept her newly long and darkened hair out of her eye line before placing her hand on her hip. “I followed Jonah this morning. You need to come back with me. Now.” She gave me the once-over and snorted as she pointed to my feet. “Did I not teach you anything? Cartoon slippers?
Really?
”

“Hair extensions? Really?”

“Frozen in time, remember. I can't grow it myself,” she replied with sarcasm, twirling the wavy curls that hung just above her hip.

“Whatever, I don't care. You need to leave. Do you have any idea who these people are and what they spend their time doing?” I spun her around and shoved her away from me.

She immediately reeled back around to face me and brushed the tops of her arms where I had just touched her, as though she were flicking off dirt. “Okay, first, don't push me. There's no need to push. And second, I know who they are; Jonah told me. They're spying on the Hedgerley house, you know. They've got this little guy hiding in the garden. It's hilarious! I was smashing doors, slamming windows shut, you should have seen him—too funny!” She grinned.

“Did he see you?” I asked, feeling bad for poor Cameron.

“No.” She adjusted the sunglasses perched on top of her head. “I just made enough noise to draw them out. Meanwhile, I came to get you. In case that chick has clocked that I'm a Vamp, I'd rather explain the whys en route.” She reached for my arm and tugged for me to follow her.

I listened for Iona, and as I focused, I could hear her talking on the phone. “I dunno, she just turned up. All she said was that her name was Lailah. But Brooke … Oh Fergal, I … I think she might be one of them, I'm not sure.…”

Fergal shouted so loudly that I could hear his end of the conversation, too. “You're kidding me!” he said. “Are you sure that's her name? Never mind. Listen, just stay away from Brooke and keep Lailah safe.”

Fergal hung up, so I turned my attention back to the real Brooke and dug my heels into the grass.

“Why'd you go and use my name? Are you completely insane?” I had to hold myself back from giving her a good slap.

“Why'd you use mine?”

“Oh, I don't know, something to do with the fact that these guys are searching for a girl—a girl who happens to be called Lailah. I thought, in case they knew it, it might be best not to give
that
name. Yours was the first one that popped into my head.” I threw my hands up in the air in disdain. “And now, thanks to you, Iona is on the phone telling her brother, who happens to be the leader of this little band of Vampire slayers, that a girl called Lailah just rocked up—and guess what? He seemed to know my name. And, to make matters worse, she now thinks I might be some sort of demon.”

“So, let's leave.” Brooke tugged her jacket down before pointing two thumbs over her shoulder.

Hesitating, I said, “I can't. Not yet.”

I needed to know where my mother was. Even though she hadn't been in my life for a very long time, I believed that if anyone could help me figure out which path was the right one, it'd be her. Gabriel said he didn't trust anyone, and that extended to my mother, but she had sent these people to find and save me. Why would she do that if she meant me harm? I wanted to find her, but I would have to do it without Gabriel's help.

Iona's father may have wrapped her up in cotton wool and not told her about his Angel encounter, but based on Fergal's reaction to my name, that was not the case with him.

He had to know where my mother was.

Brooke shook her head. “If they think you're a demon, you're in trouble. Why would you want to stay here?”

“I have my reasons. I came for an answer, and I'm not leaving until I have it.”

“What question could be so important—”

“My … my mother. My Angel mother … I think they might know where she is.” I considered the situation we were now faced with. “Look, they came here to seek out the girl to save her. To save
Lailah
. So, whatever happens from this moment on, you need to keep my name. They won't harm you if they think you're me. Do you understand?”

“Jeez, if they are here to save the girl—not to, you know, kill the girl—then why don't you just tell them you're that girl? Ask your frickin' question and be done with it.”

“Have you forgotten the Purebloods and the Arch Angels? If they find out I'm alive, they will come for me. I have to be clever about this.” Brooke's attitude of indifference irritated me.

“Getting pretty cynical in your old age, aren't you? Right now, I couldn't care less about your stupid question. If you want to risk your ass, then come back for it, but only after…”

“After what?”

Brooke took my elbows, her lips pulling in a tight line as she stared at me. “Apparently you don't remember Jonah. So let me take a moment to remind you that you were friends, once before.” She stopped briefly and tapped my forehead. “And while it may have escaped your memory, on more than one occasion, he saved you. And when you went running off up that mountain to meet Zherneboh, the deadliest and most heinous Pureblood of them all, guess who came chasing after you?”

“Jonah,” I said quietly. He'd said he'd been there, but I couldn't place him in the picture of what happened that night.

Brooke's eyes narrowed, and she pursed her lips.

“Why are you telling me this? What does any of it have to do with me going back with you right this very moment?” I demanded, aware that Iona was long off her cell and I could hear her shuffling about in a drawer.

Nudging her mouth toward my ear, she said, “Because Jonah's dying, and only you can help him.”

As she stepped back from me, I saw how strained her expression was.

I thought back to this morning, how Jonah seemed to be hobbling. “The bullet?”

Brooke nodded. “Took him a while to reach Gabriel. The silver had melted, some of it worked its way into his bloodstream, and the light is slowly making its way around his system. Once it has…”

I shook my head, confused. “What can I do?”

“He needs to feed from you. When you first met, he was hurt, real bad. He drank your blood, and it healed him.”

I healed Jonah? How can I not remember that?
Him?
I wanted to help, but I realized something. “I'm different now,” I said. “I don't know if that would even work.”

“You have to try. Please. I don't know how long he has.” Brooke took my hand and began to gently pull me away.

I conceded. As I prepared to follow, Iona called after me. “Brooke, wait…”

She had begun to run toward us, but I said, “I have to go.”

I didn't get a chance to explain myself. The rumble of Phelan's motorbike announced his approach.

Brooke cursed as Iona threw her weight into Brooke's chest. Iona was trying to put some distance between the two of us. The second I saw Phelan jump from his motorcycle and crouch down, crossbow in hand, I knew why.

Brooke's jaw cracked. She was about to reveal her fangs and attack Iona. I had to keep Brooke's true identity concealed for her own safety—not to mention save Iona's life.

“Lailah!” I shouted. “Whatever happens—please!”

Brooke met my urgent stare, and her fangs stayed hidden. But a silver net was thrown over me. Boulderlike silver weights held it in place down at my feet, so there was nothing I could do to remove it.

I fell to the ground, screaming. My eyes blazed red and my skin simmered as the threads etched their way through the fabric of my borrowed clothes, sizzling through my skin. Everything fuzzed, and my vision blurred as static crashed through my mind in waves, curling and bouncing off the corners.

I scrambled to raise my hands to my eyes, where a barbed piece was burning through my eyelid, and I screeched as the silver seared my fingers.

Everything went black.

*   *   *

A melody sounded through my thoughts: Gabriel's voice singing to me.

My gentle harp, once more I waken,

The sweetness of thy slumb'ring strain.

A light appeared at the edge of the darkness and a hairline crack formed, through which the words sifted. I listened as the verse repeated over and over. I focused intently, and, as the next lines followed, I heard my voice singing:

In tears our last farewell was taken,

And now in tears we meet again.

Gabriel's voice came through again, so gentle, as though somehow the mere vibration of his voice created the same sensation inside me as his skin meeting mine. The fissure widened and expanded, responding to my quickening heartbeat as his words touched me.

Over and over, the shared verse of our song repeated. The light pulsated, growing, until the glow of the luminous sheet flashed, blinding me, and then there we were, under that old oak tree. The same memory that had resurfaced through my dream only two nights ago presented itself once again. I was playing the harp, and lying beside me Gabriel sang the next lines of the song:

Yet even then, while peace was singing,

Her halcyon song o'er land and sea.

I smiled at him and sang him the next part:

Though joy and hope to others bringing,

She only brought new tears to thee.

I waited to see if the same terrible sight would emerge, the way it had before, but the image distorted, splitting into two pieces. The fractured image flipped across my vision, leaving a new scene to emerge.

It was Gabriel and I riding on top of Uri, my beautiful white mare. Gabriel's arms were wrapped around my waist as we rode bareback along the footpath of a forest. The ground was littered with leaves, and the trees on either side seemed to meet overhead as the thick branches interwove themselves, forming a heart-shaped claw above us.

My once innocent face flushed pink as Gabriel gripped my hips, moving with the rhythm of Uri's stride. It was so still—eerily so. The vivid color of autumn's burnt oranges and dull yellows contrasted against Gabriel's emerald-green velvet jacket. As we rode on, the path seemed endless; nothing up ahead that we were trying to reach, just a stretch of forever that we were traveling on together.

I heard myself then, continuing with the song I had left behind under the old oak tree:

Then who can ask for notes of pleasure,

My drooping harp, from chords like thine?

I watched Gabriel lift my long blond hair over my shoulder and rest his chin in the crevice of my neck. Then I heard him begin. I heard him start the next lines of the song that had meant something to us then: