Gabriel's Inferno 01 - Gabriel's Inferno (28 page)

Gabriel’s eyes wandered to Julia’s and lingered there almost a beat too long, before he turned to Christa, smiling flirtatiously. Julia fumed. He was doing that on purpose—purposefully looking at her and then focusing all of his attention on Christa-the-Gollum, just so she could see how easily she would be replaced.

Fine. If he wants to play the jealousy game, bring it.

Julia began to tap her notebook with her pen just loud enough to be distracting. When Gabriel’s narrowed eyes darted around to look for the noise and landed on her left hand, she slid her right hand closer to Paul and gave his hand a squeeze. He looked over at her with a heart-melting smile, and she gazed up into his eyes through her eyelashes. She parted her lips, exposing her teeth, and gave Paul the loveliest, sweetest smile she could muster.

A half-groan, half-cough from the front of the room caused Paul to rip his eyes away from her and stare straight at the very angry face of Professor Emerson. Paul withdrew his hand from Julia’s immediately.

Smirking now, and still continuing his lecture without fumbling a word, Gabriel began to write on the board. More than one graduate student reacted in shock when they saw what he had written:

In real life, Beatrice was only too happy
to leave Dante in Hell
because she couldn’t be bothered
to keep her promise.

Julia was the last person to look up because she was still huffing about what had just happened. By the time she saw the board, Gabriel was leaning his back against it with his arms folded and a very smug expression on his face. Julia determined then and there that even if he had her expelled, that smug expression was going to be wiped off his face. Immediately.

She put her hand up and waited until he called on her. “That’s really arrogant and self-serving, Professor.”

Paul tightened his fingers on her arm, slightly tugging at her. “Are you crazy?” he whispered.

Julia ignored him and continued. “Why blame Beatrice? She’s the victim in all of this. Dante met her when she was under eighteen. It wasn’t possible for them to be together, unless he’s a pedophile. Are you telling us that Dante is a pedophile, Professor?”

One of the female students gasped.

Gabriel scowled. “Of course not! He has true affection for her, and this affection is undiminished even during their separation. If she had ever had the courage to ask him, he would have told her that. Unequivocally.”

Julia moved her head to one side and narrowed her eyes. “That’s a bit difficult to believe. Everything in Dante’s later life seems to revolve around sex. He can’t relate to women in any other way. And he’s certainly not sitting at home alone on Friday and Saturday nights waiting for Beatrice. So he must not have cared for her.”

Gabriel’s face grew very red, and he unfolded his arms, taking a step in her direction. Paul immediately put his hand up, trying to distract The Professor, but Gabriel ignored him and came a step closer.

“He is a man, after all, and needs…uh…companionship. And if it makes it any more palatable, those women were just
helpful friends
. Nothing more. His draw to Beatrice is undiminished. He simply despaired of waiting for her, since it was obvious that he was never going to see her again. And that’s her fault, not his.”

She smiled sweetly as she prepared her knife. “If that’s affection, I’ll take hatred. And just what were these
friends
so
helpful
with, Professor? Hmmmm? They’re not friends—they’re
pelvic affiliates.
Wouldn’t a friend want the other person to have a good life? A happy life? And not be clawing after fleeting pleasure like a randy old sex addict?”

Julia saw Gabriel wince, but she ignored his reaction and plowed ahead. “It’s commonly known that Dante’s dalliances were anonymous and tawdry. He tended to pick up women at the
meat market
, I believe, and when he was finished, he simply threw them away. That doesn’t sound like someone who would appeal to Beatrice. Not to mention the fact that he has a mistress named Paulina.”

Immediately, ten pairs of eyes swung inquisitively to Julia. She flushed a deep red but continued, somewhat flustered. “I—I found something once by a woman from Philadelphia who unearthed evidence of their relationship. If Beatrice lacked affection for Dante and rejected him later in life, it was completely justified. Dante was a self-absorbed, cruel, and arrogant man-whore who treated women like toys for his own personal amusement.”

Now at this point, both Christa and Paul were wondering what in the holy hell had just happened to their Dante seminar, for neither of them knew anything about a female Dante expert from Philadelphia or a mistress named Paulina. They silently pledged to spend more time in the library from now on.

Gabriel glared at the back of the room. “I believe I’m somewhat familiar with the
woman
you’re talking about, but she isn’t from Philadelphia. She’s from some podunk village in rural Pennsylvania. And she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, so she should refrain from pronouncing judgment.”

Julia’s cheeks flamed. “That’s an
ad hominem
objection. Her place of origin doesn’t diminish her credibility. And Dante and his family were from a podunk village too. Not that Dante would ever admit it.”

Gabriel’s shoulders shook slightly as he tried to control himself. “I’d hardly call the Florence of the fourteenth century
podunk
. And with respect to the mistress, that’s just shoddy research. In fact, I’ll go further. That woman’s head is filled with nothing more than appalling rubbish, and she doesn’t have a shred of evidence for her conjectures.”

“I wouldn’t dismiss her evidence out of hand, Professor, unless you’re prepared to discuss it in detail. And you haven’t given us an argument, just an abusive attack,” she countered, arching an eyebrow at him and trembling slightly.

Paul took her hand underneath the table and squeezed. “Stop,” he whispered, so low only she could hear. “Right now.”

Gabriel’s face reddened again, and he began to breathe through his mouth. “If that woman wanted to know how Dante truly felt about Beatrice, she knew where to find the answer. Then she wouldn’t be shooting her mouth off about things she knew absolutely
nothing
about. And making herself and Dante look ridiculous.
In public.”

Christa looked from Professor Emerson to Julia and back again. Something wasn’t right. Something was definitely wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She was determined to find out.

Gabriel turned back to the board and began writing, trying to calm himself down:

Dante thought it was a dream.

“The language that Dante uses about his first meeting with Beatrice has a dreamlike quality. For various—ah—
personal reasons
, he doesn’t trust his senses. He’s not sure who she is. In fact, one theory is that Dante thought Beatrice was an angel.

“So later in life, Beatrice is completely out of order in assuming that he remembered everything from their first meeting and in holding that fact against him and not giving him the opportunity to explain himself. Clearly, if he thought that Beatrice was an angel, he would have no hope that she would return.

“Dante would have explained all of this to her, if she hadn’t rejected him before he had the chance. So once again, her lack of clarity on this point is her fault. Not his.”

Christa’s hand shot up, and Gabriel reluctantly nodded at her, growing very tense as he waited for her to speak.

But Julia spoke first. “The discussion of their first meeting is patently irrelevant, since Dante must have recognized her when he saw her the second time, dream or not. So why did he pretend not to?”

“He wasn’t pretending. She was familiar to him, but she was all grown up, he was confused, and he was upset about other things in life.” Gabriel’s voice grew pained.

“I’m sure that’s what he told himself so he could sleep at night, when he wasn’t on an alcoholic bender in the
lobbies
of downtown Florence.”

“Julia, that’s enough.” Paul raised his voice above a whisper.

Christa was about to interject something when Gabriel held out his hand to silence her.

“That has nothing to do with it!” He inhaled and exhaled quickly as he tried in vain to keep his emotions in check. He dropped his voice and stared only at her, ignoring the way Paul shifted his body so that he could come between The Professor and Julia if need be.

“Haven’t you ever been lonely, Miss Mitchell? Haven’t you ever ached for companionship, even if it’s only carnal and temporary? Sometimes it’s all you can get. And so you take it and you’re grateful for it, while recognizing it for what it is,
because you have no other choice
. Instead of being so high-handed and self-righteous in your assessment of Dante’s lifestyle, you should try having a little compassion.” Gabriel snapped his mouth shut as he realized he had revealed far more than he had ever intended. Julia stared back at him coolly and waited for him to continue.

“Dante was haunted by his memory of Beatrice. And that made things worse, not better, for no one ever measured up to her. No one was beautiful enough, no one was pure enough, no one made him feel the way she did. He always wanted her—he just despaired of ever finding her again. Believe me, if she had presented herself earlier and told him who she was, he would have dropped everything and everyone for her. Immediately.” Gabriel’s eyes grew desperate as they bore into Julia’s deep brown eyes.

“What was he supposed to do, Miss Mitchell? Hmmmm? Enlighten us. Beatrice rejected him. He only had one thing of value left and that was his career. When she threatened that, what else could he do? He had to let her go, but that was
her choice
, not his.”

Julia smiled sweetly at his tirade, and he knew that he was in for it.

“Your lecture has been
very
illuminating, Professor. But I still have one more question. So you’re saying that Paulina is not Dante’s mistress? That she’s just a fuck buddy?”

A very loud popping sound echoed across the seminar room. Each graduate student gazed in complete and utter shock as they realized that Professor Emerson had snapped the whiteboard marker in two. Black ink spread across his fingers like a starless night, and his eyes ignited into an angry blue fire.

That’s it. That’s fucking it,
he thought.

Paul pulled Julia into his side protectively, curving his body around her as he watched The Professor’s shoulders begin to shake with rage.

“Class is dismissed. In my office, Miss Mitchell. Now!” Professor Emerson angrily shoved his notes and his books into his briefcase and exited the seminar room, slamming the door behind him.

Chapter 16

The graduate students sat in the now silent seminar room, stunned. Since the majority of the students weren’t Dante specialists, they quickly dismissed the altercation as an entertaining (albeit aberrant) internecine debate. Academics could be passionate about their subject matter; everyone knew it. Some, like Julia and The Professor, were more passionate than others. Today’s seminar was a train wreck, of course, but not entirely surprising. Not, thought Paul, as bizarre as some of the things that happened the previous semester in Professor Singer’s Medieval Torture Methods seminar…which turned out to be surprisingly hands-on…

As the students slowly realized that the steel-cage death match they’d just witnessed was over, and that there would be no second round (or popcorn), they began filing out, with the exception of Christa, Paul, and Julia.

Christa fixed Julia with narrowed eyes and went after The Professor like a co-dependent duckling.

Paul closed his eyes and groaned. “Are you suicidal?”

Julia seemed to be shaking herself awake from a dream. “What?”

“Why did you provoke him like that? He’s looking for a reason to get rid of you!”

She was only now able to grasp the gravity of her predicament. It was as if she’d been another person, spewing venom and anger, without any thought about the audience. And now that she’d vented she felt deflated, like a lonely and empty balloon left after a child’s birthday party. She slowly began packing her things and tried to steel herself for what she knew would be a very,
very
unpleasant conversation in The Professor’s office.

“I don’t think you should go,” said Paul.

“I don’t want to go.”

“Then don’t. Send him an e-mail. Tell him you’re sick—and you’re sorry.”

Julia thought about that for a moment. It was very, very tempting. But she knew that her only chance at saving her career would be to
woman up
and take her punishment, and try to piece her personal life together afterward. If that was even possible.

“If I don’t go to his office, he’ll be even angrier. He could kick me out. And I need this class, or I won’t be able to graduate in May.”

“Then I’m going with you. Better yet, I’ll speak with him first.” Paul drew himself up to his full height and flexed his arms.

“No, you need to stay out of this. I’m going to go and apologize and let him yell at me. And when he has his pound of flesh, he’ll let me go.”

“The quality of mercy is not strained,”
muttered Paul. “Not that he would know anything about that. What were you fighting about, anyway? Dante didn’t have a mistress called Paulina.”

Julia blinked rapidly. “I found an article about Pia de’ Tolomei. Paulina was one of her nicknames.”

“Pia de’ Tolomei wasn’t one of Dante’s mistresses. There were rumors of mistresses and illegitimate children, so you weren’t completely wrong. But I’m sorry Julia, Emerson is right—no one believes that Pia was Dante’s mistress. No one.”

Julia chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. “But he wouldn’t let me explain. And I just kind of…snapped.”

“You snapped, all right. If it were anyone else, I’d be cheering you on thinking that he got what was coming to him.
The uptight prick
. But in your case, I knew he’d overreact.” Paul shook his head. “Let me talk to him.”

“You’re writing your dissertation with him, you can’t have him angry with you. If it’s too much, I’ll leave. And I’ll file a harassment complaint.”

Paul gazed down at her with a very worried expression. “I don’t feel right about this. He’s furious.”

“What can he do? He’s the big bad Professor, I’m the little grad student. He has all the power.”

“Power does funny things to people.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Paul stuck his head outside the door of the seminar room in order to check the hallway.

“Emerson is a twisted fuck. He was involved with Professor Singer and that means that he…” Paul stopped suddenly and shook his head.

“That means that he—what?”

“If he has been harassing you, or trying to get you to
do things
, let me know and I’ll help you. We can file a complaint.”

Julia gazed at him blankly. “There’s nothing sinister going on here. He’s just a crusty Professor who doesn’t like to be contradicted. I’m going to eat humble pie in his office, and hopefully, he won’t make me drop his class.”

“I hope you’re right. He’s always been professional with his students. But with you, things are different.”

Paul walked Julia to The Professor’s office and without warning, knocked on the door.

Professor Emerson opened the door quickly, his eyes still an angry, sparking lapis. “What do you want?” he spat, shooting daggers at Julia.

“Just a minute of your time,” said Paul mildly.

“Not now. Tomorrow.”

“But Professor, I…”

“Tomorrow, Mr. Norris. Don’t push me.”

Paul gave Julia a very worried look and mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”

The Professor waited until Paul had disappeared around the corner before stepping aside to let Julia in. He closed the door behind her and walked over to the window.

Abandon hope all ye who enter here…

The Professor’s office was dark, illuminated only by his desk lamp. He’d drawn the blinds and was now leaning as far away from her as possible and rubbing his eyes with his inky fingers.

Julia moved her knapsack in front of her like a shield, clasping it with two hands. When he didn’t speak, she busied herself by glancing around the room. Her eyes alighted on a chair—the very uncomfortable Ikea chair that she sat on back in September during her first ill-fated meeting with The Professor. The chair had been smashed to bits and was lying in small, bent pieces that were scattered across the Persian carpet.

Julia’s eyes slowly moved from the pieces to The Professor and back again.
He smashed a chair. He smashed a
metal
chair.

His eyes opened, and she saw a strange and dangerous calmness in their blue depths. Here was the dragon in his den. And she was unarmed.

“If you were anyone else I’d have you expelled.”

Julia shook as soon as she heard the tone of his voice. It was deceptively calm and soft, like silk brushing across bare skin. But the undertone was steel and ice.

“That was the most disgusting display of infantile behavior I have ever witnessed. Your disrespectful attitude is absolutely unacceptable. On top of that, I can’t even begin to express the anger I have over what you said about Paulina. You are
never
to speak about her again. Do I make myself clear?”

Julia swallowed hard but was too upset to answer.

“I said
do I make myself clear?”
he growled.

“Yes.”

“My self-control is tenuous at best. You would do well not to push it. And I expect you to fight your own battles and not manipulate Paul into rescuing you from your own stupidity. He has his own problems.”

Julia looked at the carpet, avoiding his eyes, which seemed to glow in the darkness.

“I think you
wanted
me to lose my temper. I think you wanted me to get angry and make a scene, so you’d be justified in running away. You wanted me to behave like every other abusive asshole that has knocked you around. Well, I’m not an abusive asshole, and I’m not going to do that.”

She glanced over at the twisted wreckage of the chair—(a nice, Swedish chair that had done
nothing
in its short life to hurt anyone)—and looked back at The Professor. But she didn’t argue.

His tongue darted out, and he licked his lips. “Is this a game to you? Hmmmm? Playing us off each other like something out of Prokofiev? He’s Peter; I’m the Wolf. What does that make you—the duck?”

Julia shook her head.

“What happened in my seminar today will
never
happen again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Professor.”

She clutched at the doorknob behind her. It was locked. “I’ll apologize to the class.”

“And expose us to even more gossip? You will do no such thing. Why wouldn’t you talk to me? One phone call. One meeting. I could have spoken to you through a door, for God’s sake. And instead, you finally choose to talk to me in the middle of
my
fucking graduate seminar!”

“You put a bra in my mailbox…I thought—”

“Use your head!” he snapped. “If I’d mailed it to you, there would have been a paper trail. That would have been far more incriminating. And I wasn’t about to leave your iPod on your porch in the middle of a rainstorm.”

Julia was confused by his apparent
non sequitur
but decided not to question him.

“I started this clusterfuck by changing my lecture, but you finished it, Julianne, and you finished it with the equivalent of a hydrogen bomb. You are
not
going to drop my class. Clear? You are
not
going to drop out of the program. And we’re going to pretend this debacle never happened and hope that the other students are too wrapped up in their own lives to notice anything.”

Gabriel fixed her with an impassive look. “Come.” He pointed to a space on the carpet.

She took a few steps forward.

“Have you returned the bursary?”

“Not yet. The chair of Italian Studies has swine flu.”

“But you’ve made an appointment?”

“Yes.”

“So you made an appointment with him, but you didn’t have the courtesy to send me a two word text message when I was desperate to know how you were,” he growled.

Julia blinked.

“You’re going to cancel that appointment.”

“But I don’t want the money, and…”

“You will cancel the appointment, you will take the money, and you will keep your mouth shut. You’ve made the mess; I have to clean it up.” He glared at her darkly. “Understood?”

Julia held her breath and nodded rather reluctantly.

“The e-mail you sent me was disgraceful, a real slap in the face after all the messages I left you. Did you even listen to my voice mails? Or did you just delete them?”

“I listened to them.”

“You listened to them, but you didn’t believe them. And you sure as hell didn’t answer them. You used the word
harassment
in your e-mail to me. What the fuck did you hope to accomplish by that?”

“Um—I don’t know.”

Gabriel closed the gap between them, standing only inches from her. “It’s quite possible that your e-mail has been red-flagged by someone already. Even if I erase that e-mail, and I did, someone could still find it. E-mails are forever, Julianne. You are never going to e-mail me again. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“You seem to be the only person capable of pushing all of my buttons, and I do mean all of them.”

Julia glanced over at the door, wishing she could fling it open and escape.

“Look at me,” he breathed.

When she met his eyes he continued. “I’m going to have to do some damage control. I just handled Christa, and now I’m going to have to deal with Paul, thanks to you. Christa is a menace, but Paul was a good research assistant.”

Was
a good research assistant?

“Please don’t fire Paul. It’s my fault he came to you. I’ll make sure he doesn’t say anything,” she pleaded.

“Is he who you want?” Gabriel’s tone grew glacial.

Julia fidgeted with her book bag.

“Answer me.”

“I tried.”

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing when I see you in his arms in front of the mailboxes. It doesn’t look like nothing when he knocks on my door, like a knight, ready to fight me to protect you. Why can’t you tell me what you want, Julianne? Or do you only answer to
Rabbit?”
Gabriel’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Julia’s eyes widened in surprise, but she said nothing. She didn’t know what to say.

“Fine. I give up.” He waved his hand contemptuously at the door. “Paul can have you.”

It took a moment for Julia’s brain to tell her feet to walk toward the door, but eventually it did. She walked with lowered head and hunched shoulders, looking remarkably like a butterfly that had had its wings torn off. But she’d kept her spot in his class, and she hadn’t been expelled. Small consolation for some of the other losses she had just suffered.

Gabriel stood motionless as she fumbled with the door. A whimper escaped her lips as she struggled with the lock. He stepped behind her and reached an arm around her waist to unlock the door, brushing against her left hip. When she didn’t flinch, he leaned closer, bringing his lips to her ear.