Reckoning (24 page)

His thirst vanishes.
 
Discomfort erases.
 
Renewal falls over him like a fresh spring rain.
 
Gabriel sighs with an audible relief.

“There are others who know of your origins, Gabriel.
 
If they find you before you complete your trials you will not survive.”

Gabriel latches onto his slip of information.
 
“Trials?”

Elias smirks at his eagerness.
 
“Yes.
 
There are three in total.
 
Each one harder than the last.”

“I always hated tests in school,” Gabriel grumbles under his breath.
 
“It’s always pass or fail.
 
So boring.

“Trust me, these tasks will be far from boring.”
 
He drops Gabriel’s arm, as if burned.
 
A grim veil settles over his stunning features.
 
“These trials aren’t pass or fail.
 
They are pass or die.”

Chapter 26

Roseline stares blankly out at the manicured grounds from her second story balcony.
 
The sun bathes the estate in a dazzling array of snowy rainbows.
 
She silently bids farewell to the overcast sky on the horizon, its low-lying clouds pregnant with snow.

She was grateful to discover that Matis had not stepped foot inside her allotted room.
 
If he had, she doubted she would have crossed the threshold.
 
Malachi had been gracious enough to personally show her the way, while Fane and Nicolae wearily wandered up to the third floor to find their room.

Sleep eludes her.
 
She knows she should try to rest, but anxious energy nibbles at her mind. Roseline obsessively analyzes each word Malachi spoke earlier.
 
Angels, Fallen Ones, an ancient prophecy…are such things even possible?

Roseline used to believe in God.
 
Her mother had made sure her rear end was firmly planted on the front pew of the village church each weekend, but when the devil handpicked her to be his wife, she stopped believing in those fairytales.
 
God no longer exists in her world.

What if she is wrong?

Roseline grips her temples, kneading incessantly.
 
Pressure builds behind her eyes.
  
Sleep deprivation makes it hard to think.
 
If only her mind came equipped with an on/off switch.

A knock at the door draws her back from the balcony.
 
She quickly crosses the elaborate floral rug that fills the majority of the overly lavish room.
 
Only a small edging of hardwood can be seen near the perimeter of the room.

“Coming,” she calls, slipping into the robe she found laid out for her in the bathroom.
 
She turns the lock and opens the door to find Fane leaning against the doorframe.
 
She smiles.
 
“Can’t sleep either, huh?”

“Not with that foghorn you call a friend blowing nonstop.
 
That boy has lungs, I’ll give him that,” Fane grins, brushing past her into the main room.
 
A grunt of disapproval escapes his throat as he twirls around.
 
“Unbelievable.
 
You get the master suite and I’m stuck with snoring beauty in a glorified broom cupboard.”

 
Roseline chuckles, tying a knot in her robe.
 
She heads for the bed in the adjoining room and sinks back into the mountain of pillows.
 
She pats the bed beside her but Fane casts her a pained look.
 
It lances straight through her heart and out the back. “Sorry.
 
I forgot.”

Gone are the days when they can snuggle up together and just talk.
 
A pang of regret furrows her brow.
 

Fane sinks heavily into a stiff backed armchair, no doubt meant for visual appeal instead of backside pleasure.
 
“Don’t worry about it,” he sighs, tossing his hands over the armchair wings.
 
He crosses his leg over one knee, struggling to find a comfortable position.
 
“I guess we just need to get used to this…whatever this is.”

She chides herself for being so careless.
 
Exhaustion is really starting to impair her judgment.
 
She must at least try to sleep at some point today.
 
“So, what’s up?” Roseline asks with a forced airy tone.
 
She tucks her legs under and pulls a pillow into her lap.
 

Memories of the many nights spent like this, hidden away from peering eyes at the castle, tug at her mind.
 
Fane risked much to visit her in her private chambers at the castle, but it was those times, those hours of laughter, that had kept her alive shortly after her transformation.
 
Now it just feels painfully awkward.

He opens his mouth, as if ready to blurt out his thoughts, but thinks better of it. He groans, pressing his head back into the chair.

“Is this about Malachi?”

Fane snorts, eyes narrowing with disgust.
 
“Don’t get me started on that…
man
,” he spits out.

Roseline chuckles and moves to rest her head atop the giant throw pillow.
 
“No, I came to check on you.
 
I’m worried about you, Rose.”

Her laughter subsides.
 
Fane’s pet name for her no longer brings happiness but a reminder of her longing for Gabriel to call her by that name.
 

Pain seems to be waiting to flood back in when she least expects it.
 
Judging by the way Fane’s hands clamp down on the armchair, she is doing a poor job of hiding it.
 
“I’ll be ok.
 
Just a rough few days is all.”

Fane sits forward, letting his leg drop back to the floor as he slips into their native tongue.
 
“This is me you’re talking to, Roseline.
 
You do not have to sugar coat it for me like you do with that hunter upstairs.
 
I know you’re hurting.”

She looks away, fighting back the tears that sting her throat.
 
How can she speak of this to him, especially after everything she has put him through?
 

“Please,” he begs.
 
She hears the whisper of his shoes against the carpet.
 
The bed sinks next to her as he shifts closer.
 
His fingers gently pull her chin around to face him.
 
“I’m still your friend.”

Roseline wipes away the moisture collecting in the corners of her eyes.
 
“Yeah, I know.”

“Then tell me.”
 
His gaze earnestly searches her face.
 
His hand pulls hers into his grasp.
 
It feels warm, comforting and safe.

Shame turns her gaze down.
 
“I…I know I hurt you back in Sorin’s dungeon, but I never meant to.” Her voice falters.

“I didn’t handle it too well either.” Fane soothes, squeezing her hand.
 
“Probably wasn’t my shining moment, huh?”

“Not really,” she smiles weakly.

“Hey,” he whispers, motioning between them.
 
“You and me…we’re good.
 
Don’t worry about that.”
 
Fane wipes a tear from her cheek.
 
“I know it’s not just us that you’re worried about.”

Taking a deep, shuddery breath, Roseline holds it within her lungs, before finally releasing it.
 
She looks up at him through damp lashes.
 
As soon as she opens her mouth to speak, her fears tumble out.
 
“What if I can’t find Gabriel in time?
 
What if I am wrong to wait around here and hope that Malachi has all of the answers?
 
What if, by delaying, it costs Gabriel his life?”

Pleading eyes stare up at Fane.
 
His adam’s apple bobs as the weight of her questions fall on him. “I don’t know,” he whispers, pulling her into a firm embrace.
 
Her head fits into the hollow of his neck, both familiar and unsettling, for both of them.
 

“I wish I had the answers.”
 
He rests his head atop hers.
 
“But I think Malachi might know something.”

Roseline pulls back.
 
“What do you mean?”

“He said something earlier that triggered a memory.
 
I remember Vladimir saying something years ago about how he intended to right the wrongs our ancestors made.
 
I never really gave it much thought until today.”

She chews her lips while her fear amps up another notch.
 
“Now I’m even more worried about Gabriel.
 
If Vladimir ever realizes that we are bound…” Tendrils of hair fall in waves over her shoulders.

“He won’t,” Fane rushes to reassure her.
 
He pulls back the curtain of bronze tresses.
 
“We are going to get through this, ok?”

 
Sniffling, she nods.
 
A weak smile is all she can manage.
 
Roseline had thought that verbalizing her fears would help, but she was wrong.
 
Now it has only made Gabriel’s absence feel more real.

“Hang on.”
 
Fane leaps from the bed and crosses to the bathroom.
 
He returns swiftly with a crumpled wad of tissues in his hand.
 

“Couldn’t you just bring the box with you?” she asks, laughing as she dries her eyes.

“Darn thing is stuck to the vanity.
 
What does this guy think, that we are going to steal his stuff?”

Roseline shrugs.
 
“Who knows?
 
He does seem a tad excent-”

Her bedroom door bursts open, nearly ripping the door from its hinges.
 
Malachi pulls upright when he takes in Fane standing beside Roseline’s bed.
 
Her blotchy red eyes widen, shocked at Malachi’s abrupt arrival as he straightens his suit coat with obvious discomfort.

“My apologies, I did not realize I would be interrupting anything,” he grinds out.
 

“No, it’s fine,” Roseline calls as he turns to leave.
 
She stuffs the damp tissue into her palm.
 
“Come in.”

Fane turns to stand off with Malachi.
 
“Do closed doors mean nothing to you?”

Malachi’s smoky eyes darken.
 
“I am not an ill-mannered heathen, Fane.
 
I was merely in a rush to inform Roseline of a new development.”

She perks up, rising up onto her knees on the bed.
 
“What is it?”

“There is to be a party at the West Wycombe Estate this evening.”
 
Roseline frowns, confused as to how this could be of use.
 
Malachi rolls his eyes at their vacant expressions.
 
“At the ancestral home of Sir Francis Dashwood…”

Roseline and Fane exchange a bewildered glance.

“Oh honestly,” Malachi huffs, “you can’t possibly tell me that neither of you have heard of the Hellfire Club.”

Realization dawns as they nod in agreement.
 
It had been one of Vladimir’s favorite haunts back in the day, before the entire thing closed down.

“I thought Sir Dashwood was just a front for the Hellfire Club,” Roseline mutters, glancing between Fane and Malachi.

“He was, although the humans persist in smearing his good name into the ground, poor chap.
 
All he did was create a place for people to congregate for a bit of…fun,” Malachi chuckles.
 
“He had nothing to do with the actual goings on of the underworld.”
 

“Then why should we care about some party at his ancestor’s home?” Fane asks.

“Because,” Malachi draws out, rolling his eyes, “tonight, the Dashwood estate will be filled with some of England’s finest.”

“That’s great, Mal, but I forgot to bring my dancing shoes,” Fane snickers, cutting him off.

Malachi’s jaw clenches tightly.
 
Roseline places a warning hand on Fane’s arm.
 
“Why don’t you just jump to the part where all of this should matter to us?”

He nods, struggling to tear his hostile gaze away from Fane.
 
“If all eyes are on the mansion, and trust me, they will be, who do you think will be left to attend to the Hellfire caves?”