Gabriel's Mate (8 page)

He looked out to his right at the sparkling lights. He didn’t miss daylight. In fact, he welcomed the absence of sun in his life. Nights could be beautiful. They concealed the ugliness of the world and only showed those things that sparkled and gleamed. In the shadows of the night, he could hide the ugly side of his face and be respected for the man he was, not the monster some perceived him to be. At night, he could pretend to be an ordinary man with ordinary desires and dreams: for a loving wife, a family, a welcoming home. He knew he would be a good husband, gentle and loving, if only he was given a chance.

But in all the years since his transformation he’d never met a woman who hadn’t looked at him with horror. He’d never even tried to make advances on any of them for fear of rejection. As a human he’d dealt with enough rejection, one that had destroyed one side of his face. Despite what Jane had done to him, deep down he knew he couldn’t even blame her. He should have prepared her for what she would see.

Gabriel blinked the gruesome memory of his wedding night away and looked at the street signs. He was at the other end of Sausalito and had left the quaint little downtown behind him. To his right was the Bay and a small colony of houseboats. He slowed down, looking for the correct turnoff. At the last pier, he brought the Audi to a stop and killed the engine.

The witch’s houseboat was the last on the mooring.

He’d crawled back to Drake after the kiss with Maya, and he’d made a deal with the devil, giving the doctor what he wanted: the use of his gift. He hated himself for it, for giving into his baser urges, because that’s what it was. Because he desired Maya against all reason. Because he hoped against all hope that there was a chance she could accept him if only he dealt with his predicament. Because her kiss had awakened that hope.

Gabriel wasn’t sure what to think of Drake’s connection to a witch, and he didn’t really want to speculate. But it was odd, to say the least. Vampires and witches were sworn enemies. To have a witch amongst one’s acquaintances or—God forbid—friends was dangerous for a vampire. If other vampires found out about the connection, one could be called a traitor to one’s race. Repercussions would be severe. But at this point Gabriel didn’t care anymore.

When he’d heard from his old friend Amaury that a witch had done some research on his own problem for him, hope had risen in Gabriel. Now it was time to see if she could help him too.

Admitting one’s vulnerability to a witch was dangerous because their spells could be powerful, and a vampire had little protection against spells. But frankly, Gabriel didn’t think he had much of a choice.

He’d tried everything already, and still his problem hadn’t disappeared. No, it prevented him from taking a willing woman into his arms and making love to her. He didn’t want that to happen with Maya. He didn’t want her to run from him in horror. He wanted her to kiss him again, to roam her hands freely over his naked body, to caress him. If he was made whole, maybe she could look past his external scar and accept him. Or why had she kissed him in the first place?

“Get off my property, vampire,” a female voice came out of the dark.

Gabriel raised his head and saw the witch standing on the upper-level balcony, leveling a crossbow with a wooden stake at him. Her thin figure was silhouetted against the moonlight, keeping her face in the dark. But Gabriel’s vampire night vision compensated for it. It was sufficient enough for him to determine that she was an attractive woman in her thirties.

Gabriel understood her hostility only too well. If she showed up at a vampire’s house, she wouldn’t be made any more welcome either. He didn’t take it personally. “Miss LeBlanc, you were recommended by Dr. Drake.”

A little snort indicated that she didn’t give a damn about the recommendation.  “To do what?”

“I need a problem taken care of,” Gabriel confessed.

“You should know better than to come to one of my kind for help. None of you can be trusted.”

Gabriel went out on a limb. “If that was the case, you wouldn’t have told Drake where to find you. After all, he’s one of us.”

“Is that so?”

He saw her face and her frown. What was she trying to tell him? Was Drake not to be trusted, or was he not one of them? Gabriel knew for sure that Drake was a vampire—his whole aura radiated with a certain frequency and that was the way vampires recognized other vampires. Clearly the witch wanted to throw him off his game.

“I want nothing for free.”

“And I’m not doing any favors,” she countered.

“I ask none. I have means to pay you.” Gabriel already knew that she didn’t want cash because he’d read her memory—an image of her bank statement—when he’d mentioned payment. She wasn’t interested in any more than she already had. But he had to tread carefully. Giving out things other than cold hard cash could come back to bite him one day, literally. It would be better if he could convince her to take hard currency.

“Money is cold,” she answered.

“So is loneliness.” If he could get her to take his case, he would have to hook her in first.

“If you didn’t suck people’s blood, you wouldn’t be lonely. Ever thought of that?”

“I don’t bite people.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Ah, you’re one of those who think of themselves as more civilized because you drink it from a bottle. Doesn’t make a hell lot of difference to me. It’s still human blood.”

“It’s donated. Nobody gets hurt.”

“Somebody always gets hurt,” the witch claimed.

Gabriel shook his head. “We pay for what we take. It’s not any different than you purchasing crow’s feet for your potions.”

She shrugged. “Unless you have something valuable to trade, I’m not interested in helping you.”

“Don’t you even want to know what it is I need help with?”

“Couldn’t care less, vampire. Whatever ails you, I bet you deserve it.”

“That’s harsh, even coming from a witch,” Gabriel responded, not yet giving up.

“Isn’t the sun coming up soon? Maybe you should leave?”

“I always get what I want.” He gave her an intense look. He’d never tried mind control on a witch, but it was worth a try. If she didn’t want to play ball, maybe he could manipulate her. The ultimate goal was worth it.

“Stay out of my head, vampire. I’m stronger than you. Go back to your own kind. There’s nothing here for you.”

Knowing that tempting her with money wouldn’t work, he tried to appeal to her humanity. “Have you never felt so lonely you thought the whole world had shut you out?”

There was a short pause. Had he gotten through to her? “You chose this life, vampire.”

Gabriel had, but he was an exception: he’d chosen vampirism. The majority of the older vampires like himself were turned, many against their will. These days, their society punished those who turned humans against their will—back in the old days, nobody had stood up for the innocents and their rights.

Only a handful of his kind were born into this life, and those were the hybrids, the lucky ones who could live in both worlds, the human and the vampire one, walk both in the light and the shadows. “Nobody really chooses this. We all get thrown in one way or another. Did you choose to be a witch?” he countered.

“None of your fucking business, vampire.” She waved the crossbow. “Now go back to your own kind, and leave me be. I don’t need any trouble. Not the kind you’ll bring with you anyway. People like you are bad for business.”

Gabriel squared his stance. He wasn’t leaving. “I need your help.” And he wasn’t beyond begging either.

“Can’t take no for an answer. Fine. Then try this.”

He heard the release of the crossbow’s string a split-second before the wooden stake whizzed through the air. Pure reflex made him jump. He landed in the murky water up to his waist, mud and silt working themselves into his boots and pants.

“Don’t come back, vampire.”

Gabriel watched her stomp off the balcony into the houseboat, slamming the door behind her. It appeared he had to come up with another way to convince the witch to help him.

Eight

“No!”

Gabriel heard the high-pitched scream the moment he stepped out of the car he’d just parked outside of Samson’s house.

Maya! Somebody was hurting her.

He sprinted to the entrance, jammed his key into the lock and pushed the door open a split-second before he charged into the house without even bothering to close the door behind him. His muddy boots left a mess on the pristine floor, and his clothes were still damp from his unexpected bath. Carl would probably stake him if he saw the mess he was leaving in his wake.

Another scream came from the kitchen. “Let go of me!”

A moment later, Gabriel burst into the room. The scene he met with wasn’t at all what he’d expected. Instead of an unknown intruder, his own colleagues Thomas and Zane were holding the struggling Maya against the wall, while Yvette was trying to pour a bottle of blood down her throat. Maya kicked viciously, her face furious, her lips pressed together now, refusing the bottle Yvette held against her lips.

“What the fuck is going on?” Gabriel shouted and rushed to jerk Yvette away from Maya. “Let go of her, now. All of you.”

Neither Thomas nor Zane complied.

“She won’t drink,” Yvette explained as she let her gaze run over his form, a question mark clearly written on her face as she saw his muddy pants and boots.

“I said, let go of her, now.” Maybe it was the fury in his voice or the fact that his fangs had pushed through and were showing, but Thomas and Zane instantly dropped their hold on Maya. She immediately moved toward him. Gabriel cupped her shoulders with his hands.

“What happened to you?” Thomas asked.

Gabriel gave him an impatient look. “Don’t ask.” There was no way he could explain his visit to a witch. Besides, he was the boss and didn’t owe anybody an explanation. Gabriel’s eyes scanned Maya’s body for any injuries. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, but said nothing. Instead, she sought shelter in his chest as if she hadn’t noticed his damp and messy clothes. Gabriel welcomed her trust in him, yet wondered why she felt comfortable with him. He was just as much a stranger to her as the others—a rather wet stranger at that.

As he put his arm around her back, he looked back at his colleagues. “Explain yourselves.” He caught Yvette’s look, which focused on his arm around Maya. The flash in her eyes could only be interpreted as jealousy. The realization caught him by surprise. He’d never given Yvette any reason to believe that he was even remotely interested in her other than as a valued colleague. Or had he leaned on her too much for companionship and she’d interpreted him wrongly?

“She spit out the blood,” Thomas claimed. “We called the doc, and he said to get her to drink.”

“Where’s Drake?”

“On his way,” Thomas replied.

Gabriel pulled away slightly from Maya to look at her face. “Is that true, that you didn’t want to drink the blood?”

“It’s disgusting! It tastes vile. It makes me puke,” she spat.

“We weren’t lying,” Zane snapped.

Gabriel shot him a furious look. “And I guess it was your idea to restrain her and force her to feed.” He didn’t need to wait for Zane’s answer to know he was right. “May I remind you that this is not World War II, and you’re not in a torture chamber.”

Zane’s eyes narrowed. Gabriel watched as the cords in his second-in-command’s neck bulged. At the same time, he felt Maya’s body tense. Her instincts were sharp, he realized instantly. Zane had a short temper and a vicious streak. Violence was a way of life for him, and she was right to fear him.

“Whatever works.” Zane’s voice was cold and devoid of any emotion. If he wasn’t such a great fighter, Gabriel would have fired him years ago. But it was smarter to have Zane fighting on their side rather than the enemy’s. And once Zane chose a side, he stuck with it. Where his fierce loyalty stemmed from, Gabriel could only guess, but knew he’d never know the true reason.

“You ever touch her again, I’ll kill you,” Gabriel warned, then swept his gaze over the other two. “That goes for all of you. Maya is under my personal protection. You harm her, you get to deal with me.”

The shocked looks on his colleagues’ faces told him that they took his threat seriously—as they should. He never made empty treats, and he never bluffed. And he was the worst poker player ever for that very reason.

“Good.” Gabriel turned his attention back to Maya. He was all too aware that he still held her in his arms, and maybe at this moment she felt the same awkwardness that he experienced, because she suddenly stepped out of his hold.

“Yvette was trying to force the blood down my throat when I’d already told her that it was making me gag,” Maya said.

Yvette took a step forward. “I gave her the best-quality stuff. She’s making it sound like I fed her animal blood.”

“That’s not what I said. The taste and smell of it makes me sick. I can’t drink it. Don’t you get that?” Maya fisted her hands at her hips and stared at Yvette.

Not wanting a cat fight on his watch, Gabriel raised his hand. “Okay, let’s just go over this in detail. Yvette, what did you give her?”

“Nothing I wouldn’t drink myself.” When Gabriel raised his eyebrow, she continued, “First the O-positive bottle, then even the O-neg. You know Samson always has the best supplies. But she wouldn’t even drink O-neg. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Maybe I’m allergic,” Maya interrupted.

“Impossible,” Thomas answered.

“Unheard of,” Zane agreed with his colleague. “Vampires aren’t allergic to blood.”

Gabriel nodded. He had to agree with them. Never in his long life had he heard of a vampire who would be repulsed by human blood. “Maya, a newly turned vampire’s overwhelming thirst makes sure you drink whatever human blood is available. It’s instinct, pure and simple.”

Maya’s other instincts seemed to be working just fine—her instant response to Zane’s aggression had shown Gabriel that she was fully attuned to her natural sense of self-preservation, but why she wouldn’t feed, he couldn’t explain.

“Maybe I’m not a vampire then,” she replied.