Gabriel (11 page)

“It is our duty to help lost souls.” One of the lads at the table piped up in agreement.

The girl bobbed her head enthusiastically, as the guys at the table exchanged whispers.

“Yes, of course.” She beamed. “I'm Fergal's sister, Iona. This here is Cameron.”

“'Lo,” the boy sitting next to Iona said, barely looking up as he waited patiently for his turn to take a piece of bread. I recognized his name—and more so his not-yet-broken voice—from the Winnebago. He was small and mousy, definitely the youngest of the group; he couldn't have been more than fourteen, fifteen tops. He had a podgy face, a small freckled nose, and messy red hair.

“You've met Phelan. This is Dylan and Jack.” She held her hand out, gesturing at the two twentysomethings to the left of me. “And this here is Riley and Claire; they're newlyweds.” Her eyes settled on the teenage couple in between Cameron and Phelan. I could tell without looking that they were playing footsie under the table. “Riley is also Dylan's cousin.”

“Chug some of your black stuff—it might make you feel better after what happened to you today,” Fergal encouraged, referring to the can of Guinness in my hand.

“So, Brooke, Cam said the boys found you in a meadow, and that you were attacked by…”

“Huh-hum.” Phelan cleared his throat, shooting Iona a stern stare.

“That's right, some weirdo,” I answered, taking a sip of the bitter stout. “It all happened so fast, and the next thing I knew, I was being rescued by your fellas here.” My eyes slanted to Phelan, and testing for a reaction, I said, “Not sure why you bundled me into the back of your Winnebago, though.…”

“Oh, you should know we call the Winnebago ‘Little Blue.'” Iona smiled. “Blue is a heavenly color you see. And well, she's little, like—”

“You blacked out. We thought it best to take you from harm's way.” Phelan ignored Iona's tidbit, stopping short of taking a bite of his chicken to interject. “Plus, you didn't have a purse on you. No phone, no ID, not even enough money to buy milk with…” His eyes narrowed as he watched for my reaction.

As I had already gathered from his earlier Q&A session, Phelan was, unlike the others, suspicious of me, but he was keeping his reservations to himself—for now, at least. By all accounts, it seemed as though he wanted to play a secret game of Battleship over dinner. Fine by me.

“So, what brings you to Hedgerley Village? Are we still in Hedgerley?” I asked.

“We're here on vacation,” Phelan answered swiftly.

Miss
.

“We're a few miles out of the village. We won't be going any farther for a while.…” Iona added, looking to her brother for confirmation. Fergal nodded.

“How old are you?” Phelan fired his question quickly.

“Phelan!” Claire said. “Ignore him. A girl shouldn't have to answer questions like that. Besides, age ain't nothing but a number, baby.” Claire's tight curls bobbed above her delicate shoulders as she shook her head. Riley stopped chewing long enough to plant a soppy kiss on her cheek, and she grinned happily.

“I don't mind. Seventeen.” I turned the can of beer, pretending to read the label.

“Very young to have worked in a bed-and-breakfast, isn't it?” Phelan said.

Trying to buy time, I reached for a piece of bread and tore off the crust above my plate. “Here in Royal Britannia you're allowed to work once you turn sixteen.”

Miss
.

But good shot, Phelan. I continued, “You mentioned Lucan—”

“Nobody mentioned Lucan.” Phelan jumped on me before I had a chance to finish my sentence.

“Fergal did, when he said grace. Is that where you're all from?” I took another sip of the disgusting black liquid.

“Oh, yes,” Iona said, “we all hail from Lucan. Well, except for Dylan; he's a southerner. Well, by comparison. There weren't enough of us left, so he came when Riley…” Iona's white cheeks flushed a rosy color as she trailed off
.

Direct hit
.

An awkward atmosphere descended upon the table. My game with Phelan was over before it had even really started. With Iona, I would sink his battleship.

Turning toward Fergal and deliberately positioning my back to Phelan, I said, “It's been a long day. Is there somewhere I can put my head down?”

“You've not touched your food,” Phelan said.

I wasn't sure if he was trying to make some sort of point or if he just wasn't finished playing with me yet.

“Fergal?” I smiled.

“Aye, come with me.”

I followed Fergal through the long corridor of the motor home, right to the very end, where he opened up a small room for me. Inside were two sets of bunk beds, but he assured me that I was the only occupant this evening.

“Until more of the family join us, it's all yours. You're welcome to stay awhile. It'd be nice for there to be another girl to keep Iona company. Claire's not much of a listener and Iona's had a tough time, like.”

“Oh?” Fergal was quick to trust me. As his expression softened at the use of his sister's name, I considered Fergal wasn't just letting me stay to wind up Phelan. No. He loved Iona and thought I could help with whatever issue she was struggling with.

“Our daddy recently passed. Sounds like you lost your folks, too?” he continued.

I didn't enjoy lying to Fergal. For some reason, in his presence I was calm and content. Maybe it was my new abilities; perhaps I could detect the light souls now. “Yes. You could definitely say I was orphaned.” Not a complete lie. “Have you been here on vacation very long?” I asked. Hopping onto the top bunk, I noticed the window next to me at the end of the galley. I began taking off my cardigan, but I thought it best to leave my jeans and shirt on.

“Some of us longer than others.” Fergal didn't give much away.

I snuggled under the blanket and put my head down on the lumpy pillow.

“I'll ask Iona to wake you at seven thirty; the rest of us are up and ready to eat at eight thirty. Night, Brooke.” Fergal winked at me as he closed the door.

I took a breath. I was in the presence of people who claimed to have spoken with my mother. Where was she? Was she safe? I reached for my crystal and cupped it in my palm, squeezing it. She was a mother I had never known but who had sacrificed everything to give me the best chance of survival. I had to find out why she had revealed herself to this group—when she had spoken to them and what she had said.

My mind whirled, remembering how Jonah had winked at me in the same way Fergal just had, right before he was wrenched from the château fort. My thoughts wandered away from the task at hand to Jonah instead.

I hoped that he had managed to get that bullet out of his leg and that he was somewhere safe. He said he knew why I had forgotten him, and he thought that endangering his existence would make me remember somehow. My memories of him were now splintered cracks in the glass of a broken mirror, hiding his full reflection from me.

I wouldn't be able to just think him back into my head, but part of me wondered if I'd had more time to concentrate on that laughter if he would have been freed from the mirror.

I guess I would never know.

His words about me not being able to outrun my enemies echoed in my consciousness, and I didn't have to search my soul to know that he was exactly right.

I considered the life I would lead—no, we would lead, Gabriel and I—if I ran.

Ruadhan hadn't known me all that long, but he was right about one thing: I wasn't sure I could ignore everything that I knew was going on in the world. But then I had no idea what Ruadhan thought I could do about it. I was but one person. The Arch Angels, the Purebloods and their clans were many; the odds were stacked against me.

Before I could give any real thought as to how I could possibly help, I needed to decide if I was going to fight or flee, and with Gabriel ready to whisk me away, I needed to work that out fast.

 

NINE

I
TOSSED AND TURNED.
I had no urge to sleep, and I didn't trust Phelan to stay put, even if Fergal had confirmed that the group was not planning on traveling any farther. The two lads seemed to be engaged in some sort of power play. Everything about Phelan was unsettling. He was closely guarding this crew's secrets, but he wasn't in charge; Fergal was. That didn't sit right, either. Whatever Fergal was in charge of, he hardly seemed the best man for the job. Phelan—from his soldierlike appearance, and the way he held himself, to his reluctance to trust a single word I said—pointed to “leader.” Or maybe “terrorist.” I wasn't sure yet.

I looked to the small window. The dark veil of night had faded to a light gray; the sun wasn't far from rising. What felt a little like heartburn sat on my chest, and I wasn't sure if it was from being parted from Gabriel or if I needed the sun's rays to refuel. As quietly as I could, I hooked my fingers underneath the plastic seal of the window frame and tilted up the pane of glass. It was a tiny gap, but with some clever bending, I might be able to just squeeze through.

Latching my arms around the outside of the frame, I hoisted my body up and out. It was a fair drop. For a human. It posed no trouble for me.

Once my feet hit the grass, I took off in a sprint, hoping no one was watching. There was no breeze, but the crisp, cold morning hit my face as I charged across the field. A rumble from the motorway up ahead made me grind my heels into the mud, taking half of the earth with me as I skidded to a clumsy stop. I bent down and felt the soil beneath my hands, taking a moment to be grateful that I was alive, here on Earth.

But how long would that last? The abilities to run fast and travel by thought might aid me in escaping my enemies, but they certainly wouldn't help me defeat them.

The Vampires who stormed the Hedgerley house were incredibly strong. I should be strong, too. Searching the empty land, I found the tree line that separated the fields from the motorway.

I traced the outline of the biggest tree and closed my eyes, imagining myself beside it. I attempted to travel by thought. But when I opened my eyes, I was still in the same spot. The sun was not far from rising, so not wanting to waste any time, I sprinted over instead. I ground to a halt, bending over and clutching my knees as shooting pains rode up the back of my legs. Why was using my abilities causing me pain? I shook the worry from my head. Still, I would ask Gabriel.

As I thought his name, I had to actively stop my mind from stretching to his. If he was waiting for me to reach out to him, the second I let him in, he would have a direct line. I wouldn't be able to lie to him about my whereabouts. While I wasn't ready for him to know where I was, I did want him to know I was okay. I'd have to find another way to get a message to him.

The sun was only just waking. I still had time. I approached the yew tree, stretched my arms around its trunk, and I tugged. It moved a little, but as I pushed my weight backward the tree didn't break the ground. My shirt rode up over my midriff, and the cool dew dampened my skin. I huffed and tried again. Still nothing.

“Nice try,” said a now-familiar voice.

I let go and tripped. “Jonah?”

He leaned lazily against a nearby tree stump. “One and the same.”

The very sight of him made my body contract; like a built-in alarm, it sounded, telling me that he was nearing the walls of my fort.

His gallant stroll toward me was marred by a limp. His chinos bulged over the top of a tightly wrapped bandage around his calf.

“Are you all right?” I said. “They shot you in the leg?”

He scraped his hand through his dark, disheveled hair. “Your Angel patched me up, but it's not altogether healed.”

I yanked my shirt back down over my jeans. “Gabriel? He knows you're here, in England?”

Jonah moved next to me, and I automatically shifted back in response.

He rolled his eyes. “You're still worried you're going to react to me?”

I bowed my head. “Yes.”

“Hey, nothing to be ashamed of, I have that effect on women.”

I glared at him.

He bit his bottom lip and circled me. “How do you feel? When I'm … near?”

“Does it matter?”

He wet his lips. “I'd like to know.”

He knew full well the response he was trying to get from me. I cursed that my body reacted to his manipulation. I sighed and told the truth. “Every muscle in my body contracts.”

“Every muscle, hey?”

I reached for a fallen branch and hurled it at his head, but he ducked before it could wallop him in the face.

“Now, now, no need to get touchy. I can explain why you feel the way you do, but all you need to know right this second is that, as long as I'm not bleeding, you're safe.”

“It's not my life I'm worried about.”

“Well, considering you claim to have completely forgotten me, it's nice to know you care.” Jonah put weight on his injured leg and flinched.

“Are you—”

Jonah shook his head, cutting off my concern, so I continued with protest instead.

“I don't claim anything. I
have
forgotten you. Clearly you make less of an impression than you think.”

Jonah shifted his weight, trying to ease his pain. “Didn't seem that way in the forest. And there I was, ready to take a shortcut, but I wonder if you'll eventually remember me without my help.”

“You mean without your blood?”

“Yes. Your mind may have forgotten me, but your body certainly hasn't. I was hoping that, before you drank me to an end, your mind would catch up and you'd find it in yourself to stop.” He paused.

“Do you plan on telling me why you think my drinking your blood would somehow inspire me to remember you?” I challenged.

“No. This isn't the time or place to have that conversation. Right now, Gabriel has us out searching for you. Apparently he can't sense you. I'm going to assume that's some sort of special ooey-gooey Angel thing,” he added sarcastically. “I caught the scent of the kid who shot me so it wasn't too hard for me to find you. Not sure why you're still with them, though…”