Gabriel (20 page)

“Now don't go telling Gabriel I'm encouraging you to drink. It has a much greater effect on our kind, remember. Just a few drops here and there, until you're ready.”

I took another swig. “How can you tell who has a dark soul, Ruadhan?”

“You can sense it. For us, for Vampires, light souls show themselves in a very subtle aura; there's almost a glow around a human's figure. Mortals with a dark soul have nothing. We look for the glimmer. If there is none then—”

“Dinner,” I finished.

“Aye. And before, when we were slaves to our Pureblood Master, if we were stealing light souls for them to change, the glimmer was what we looked for. We took them, Lailah. They still take them, and they infect them with their venom, and they change them forever.”

I took another gulp of the vodka, but too much, and I coughed some of it up. “I know what they do, Ruadhan.” I screwed the cap back on and clutched the bottle tightly. “I'll hang on to this, if you don't mind.”

I paced up the road, mustering some strength in my legs. Ruadhan was at my side, linking an arm with mine. “Mortals need food and water to live. You need the dark energy transferred in the blood as much as you need the sun's light, Lailah. To survive, you are going to have to take both. I think you know that. And time is against you.” Ruadhan clenched my arm more tightly. “You need to overcome your inner demon before you're able to conquer the one that exists out here.”

“Didn't you know? He's one and the same.” I tapped my forehead. “He's in here and he's out there. I can't drink blood, Ruadhan. You heard Gabriel—every day he recognizes me less.”

We didn't talk any further, and I insisted on walking, using my own two legs, back to the house. My decisions would burden only me, no one else. I wouldn't let anyone carry my weight on their shoulders.

Not anymore.

 

SEVENTEEN

I
WANTED TO GO
straight to my room when we returned to the house, but Gabriel called to us from the kitchen as we removed our shoes at the door.

Ruadhan ushered me down the long hall, and when we walked into the room Gabriel looked nervously at me; I returned a weary smile. Jonah stood in the corner, a cigarette in one hand and a tumbler in the other. He didn't even acknowledge me, instead reaching for his bottle, and I was reminded of my own. I placed it down on the kitchen table.

Gabriel approached me, but I was so exhausted that I found it hard to even wrap my hands around his neck as I collapsed into his chest. He rubbed my back, and from the corner of my eye I saw Ruadhan shake his head, letting Gabriel know that the events of the evening had been unsuccessful.

A flash of light from inside Gabriel passed through to me. I knew by his reaction that I had done the right thing.

Jonah paused as he withdrew his cigarette from his lips, taking longer than he should to exhale the smoke from his lungs.

“What happened? Was there trouble? Lai, I didn't sense anything was wrong.…” Gabriel's bright blue eyes flickered.

“Uh-huh,” I said, gulping.

“We will try again tomorrow night, after she has met the sunrise,” Ruadhan ventured.

Gabriel's chest fell with disappointment.

“N-no.” I struggled to speak. “We won't. I w-won't do it.”

Jonah, who had remained silent throughout this exchange, stubbed out his cigarette, and I was faintly aware of him sliding his tumbler across the work surface. I peered up at him, but he failed to meet my eyes.

“Lai, you look very pale,” Gabriel said, placing the back of his hand against my forehead, as though I were coming down with some sort of fever. Little did I know how right he was.

“I'm always…” I stopped, catching my breath. “Pale.”

All three of them watched me quietly as I reached for the bottle of vodka and excused myself. They didn't stop me from going outside. Ruadhan even twisted the knob of the French doors opening up onto the garden and switched on the outside lights.

The yellow flash stung my eyes, and I flapped my hand at Ruadhan. “Off, please.” I closed the doors behind me and chose to slide my back down the brick wall instead of taking a seat at the table and chairs. I sat on the cold paving slabs, fingering the paper bag. The stinging sensation in my throat was only getting worse.

As I chugged back the vodka, I welcomed the warm coating that seemed to seal the slices, but for every shot the relief lasted only a few seconds.

Ruadhan and Gabriel were talking heatedly inside the kitchen.

“I opened up his wrists for her, tried to make it easier on the poor love, but still she resisted,” Ruadhan said.

“Why did she resist?” Jonah asked.

“Stubbornness, I'd say. It's not good for her, Gabriel,” Ruadhan said. “She must feed. You saw her face; she's not well. And she never will be if she doesn't get what she needs.”

“You're assuming that she needs it; she might not. Perhaps the sun will be enough. And we can't force her to do what she doesn't want to,” Gabriel's smooth voice reasoned.

I swirled the bottle around in front of me. I absolutely wanted to drink blood. It wasn't something I could reason with; it was a need, a compulsion. But Gabriel clearly found it difficult to cope with the idea, and so for him, for us, I wouldn't.

I was giddy, but I wasn't drunk—just light-headed. I could only hope that Gabriel might be right, that the sun would be enough and that I didn't need anything else. But I knew, deep down, that wasn't the case.

I stopped listening in to the conversation and focused instead on the sky. It was navy blue now, and though the full moon shone, a formation of dark clouds was looming, ready to cover its luminosity.

“It won't work,” Ruadhan shouted, forcing me to listen again. “You know that. It has to come from the vein; it has to be fresh, or she won't get the dark matter.”

My eyelids grew heavy, and I allowed them to close as I placed the bottle beside me on the ground. I was drifting off, but I shook myself back to reality as Gabriel appeared beside me. He moved the bottle and stretched his arm around my shoulders. “You should sleep. Come on, let me take you inside.”

His warmth felt good against my skin. “No. I don't want to sleep.” I nuzzled into his chest.

“I think your body disagrees.”

“I'm afraid if I fall asleep…”

Gabriel didn't have to ask why; he knew what I was afraid of, and that I always would be until Zherneboh was gone.

“You can't stay out here; it's freezing. Let me take you to your room.”

I reached for the bottle of vodka. Gabriel blocked me. “You don't need that, Lai. It's not long till sunrise.” I wondered for a moment if Gabriel even knew pain like this. I didn't have the energy to look up as we made our way through the kitchen, but I knew Jonah was still present by the pungent scent of burning tobacco.

“Are you coming with me?” I asked Gabriel at the foot of the stairs.

“I need to speak some more with Ruadhan. I think Brooke is in her room, and I believe she's keen to give you a haircut—that is, if you're sure you don't want to sleep.”

“No. No sleep.” I sighed and dragged myself up each stair.

“Lai,” Gabriel called after me. “I—well, I think you did the right thing. Tomorrow's another day, another sunrise, let's see what happens.”

I managed a smile in reply.

Any other moment in my life, my knees would have buckled at the expression he was wearing for me; it was one that oozed pride. And although my knees felt like they might do just that, for once it wasn't due to Gabriel.

As I climbed each tall step, I called out Brooke's name, but she didn't appear. She must have taken the opportunity to slip out once more, and I mentally cursed her for being so stupid.

In the absence of my stylist, I made for the first door directly in front of the stairs. I found a bed but had no idea to whom it belonged. As I hauled myself onto the sheets, I decided it belonged to Ruadhan.

I lay on my back. It must've been at least 2:00 a.m.—only four more hours till sunrise. All I had to do was lie here and bear it.

And then I heard Gabriel's voice:

Alas, the lark's gay morning measure

As ill would suit the swan's decline

And then there he was; there we were. His hands were gripping my waist as our journey atop Uri replayed.

The autumn leaves rustled and crunched under Uri's hooves, springing back to life as she strode onward.

But this time, as I listened, I was distracted. And then I knew why.

Blood
.

Even here, in my dream, I ached for it. The sequence parted, forming two large bubbles and reflecting in both, but then the colors of autumn swirled and became more concentrated. The bubbles now filled with red.

The two spheres moved away from me, and then, at the center of each, swollen black spots formed, enlarging in size. It took a moment, but a new shape formed around the outside of the orbs.

Jonah's face.

A new scene. I stared into Jonah's eyes, standing beside a frozen stream. I desperately grasped his bloodied wrist, bringing it to my mouth. But then I found his lips instead.

The moment played back: Jonah, gripping me in his arms, and my thighs wrapped tightly around his hips as I continued to kiss him forcefully, until cherry liquid spilled from his lips. I watched myself drowning in him, as he pushed me to the ground, lapping me up in return.

Blood
.

My lips at Jonah's neck, I guzzled his essence.

Blood
.

*   *   *

I
WOKE STARTLED.

The door slammed against the plastered wall, and Jonah strode through the room, positioning himself to the right of the bed. His expression was blank as he glared at me.

I propped myself up. The memory explained why Jonah had tried to goad me into drinking from him. We had been bonded by blood; and then I had died. Even though forces of both dark and light had brought me back, our connection to one another had ceased. He must have thought that if I drank from him now, our bond would be renewed and I would remember … everything.

Yet, I had recalled Jonah, without his blood. What we were before I had fallen on the mountain …

No. I couldn't let that train of thought continue. The road it led down was dangerous and destructive.

Still Jonah just stood there, rooted to the spot.

I looked past him out the window and sighed with relief when I realized sunrise was near.

“You don't belong in my bed,” he said finally. His stance was rigid, defensive, and downright uninviting. Struggling to shift my legs off the side of the bed, I wobbled as I found my feet, sinking into the deep carpet beneath me.

I struggled to find my voice. “The sheets smelled of vanilla, not of you.”

Jonah arched his left eyebrow as I stumbled out of the room.

Gabriel was waiting at the bottom of the staircase, as though he knew to expect me. His lips formed a hopeful smile, and his eyes shone brightly as he held out his hand.

I could do this.

I could ignore my cravings and survive on the sun's energy alone.

I took his hand and he paused for a moment, running his fingers through my tangled, messy hair. He kissed my temple gently and led me through the house, out of the kitchen doors, and into the garden.

“It's nearly sunrise,” he said.

The dawn smelled of freshly cut grass, and the air sang with a shrill chill. We walked slowly down the garden path, and eventually Gabriel came to a stop. I looked over my shoulder, wondering if Ruadhan would be observing from the window.

The clouds seemed to part, almost as though they were anticipating my arrival. The sunrise was beautiful.

I felt for my crystal around my neck and positioned it over my top. Gabriel had said that he didn't think I needed it like he did, that the way I sparkled without it indicated I should possess my abilities without needing a conductor. But it was my comforter, and today I would need all the comfort I could get.

The strobes of light overcame the gray and cascaded onto my skin, making my face, neck, and arms tingle. I was filled with a newfound energy. But Gabriel's glow barely shimmered against his frame.

A whip of white light beamed down to his neck, struggled, and then just stopped. The veins under his skin seemed to pop; the lines that I had noticed around his eyes seemed to stretch nearer to his ears, only covered by the loose waves of his blond hair.

What was going on?

My skin glistened, absorbing every last bit of the sunlight that spread over me, twinkling like crystals refracting and bursting—expelling stars back into the sky.

Then a pulse of light surged from my body and my knees buckled.

I looked up at Gabriel. His veins had reverted back to a gentler color now, and his lines were nearly unnoticeable; they were more like soft, aging fissures. But he had stopped absorbing the sun's rays long before me, and I didn't know why.

Gabriel pulled me up from the ground, and as I steadied my frame against his, I took a deep breath. The sting in my throat was diminishing, and I felt something in that moment that I hadn't for a very long time. Hope.

Gabriel brought me into him. He breathed in my fragrance and I tried to do the same, but his scent of citrus only lingered for a second, as though it had been diluted somehow.

“How do you feel?” he asked slowly.

I stepped back from Gabriel, searching for some sign of pain inside my body. But there was none. “I feel … fine. The sun is enough,” I answered with a huge sense of relief.

Gabriel wrapped his arms around me once more, and I rested my cheek against his chest. “Do you
promise me
that's how you really feel? You don't need … blood.”

“Yes, I promise, Gabriel.” I paused and then asked quietly, “Where did your light go?”