Redemption (29 page)

When did he become the confident man she saw leaning over her bed last night.
 
His touch had been gentle as he leaned over her bedside last night to place a gentle kiss on her forehead.
 
It was so achingly sweet she nearly cried.
 
She longed to ask him to stay, knowing that he would, but she knew how much her healing had cost him.
 
He needed rest.

Closing her eyes now, she remembers the call of Gabriel’s blood, the frenzied thoughts that tore through her mind as he drew close to her in the dark.
 
She had wanted to bite him and drain him just like she’d done to Malachi.
 

And then what?
 
Would she have torn him limb from limb too?
 
Resting her head against the mirror, tears sting her eyes as she realizes she honestly doesn’t know.
 

But she can’t dwell on the what-if’s of yesterday.
 
She leans back and wipes away her tears for the second time.
 
There are battle plans to draw up and nothing will keep her from helping out.

This morning dawned bright and frigid.
 
Frost clung to the windows and pipes.
 
Roseline smirks at William’s muttered swearing from the men’s bathroom other side of the wall as he attempts to coax warm water for a shower.
 

“It’s not going to work, you know.” Roseline calls, her voice still shaky from her unshed tears.

“A guy can still hope,” he growls.
 
More swearing follow after a loud metal clank.
 
She can hear William hopping about on one foot, no doubt nursing the other.
 

Roseline shakes her head, laughing despite herself.
 
She stops short, her smile faltering as she catches her reflection in the mirror.
 
The deep purple rings around her eyes have faded.
 
Color has returned to her cheeks, but there is still a haunted gleam in her eye.

Will she ever be able to forgive herself for killing Malachi?
 

She closes her eyes, willing the images to flee.
 
It wasn’t her, not really.
 
She would never have hurt him if she’d been in her right mind, but she hadn’t been.
 
Her dreams bring back the memories.
 
Now, she can’t escape them.

Gripping the edge of the sink, Roseline expels the contents of her stomach.
 
Dry heaves follow, but still she can’t stop.
 

“Rose?
 
Are you ok?”
 
Gabriel raps on the bathroom door.
 

She grabs a towel and wipes her face clean.
 
Tossing it aside, she quickly brushes her teeth again and leans back against the wall before calling him in.
 
He approaches slowly, unsure of what he is walking into.

“I keep seeing him, Gabriel.
 
Every time I close my eyes or try to sleep.”

He sighs and moves further into the room, letting the door shut behind him.
 
He reaches out for her, gently pulling her into his arms.
 
She nestles her cheek into the hollow of his neck, desperate for his touch.
 
“It’s going to take time.”

Tears silently slip from her eyes, running the length of her cheek before dripping softly onto his shirt.
 
Small wet stains spread across the white fabric, forming one large damp patch.
 
With one hand, he holds her close and with the other, he softly combs her hair.
 

“It wasn’t you, Rose.
 
You know that.”
 
She nods, pulling away to wipe at her nose.
 
Tear streaks glisten on her cheeks, he moves his hands to cup her face.
 
“Malachi was not a good person.
 
Maybe at the end he chose to do the right thing, but he had many sins to pay for.”

“But not with his life.
 
Not like that.”

“No.”
 
He stops her from pulling away.
 
“Not like that, but he wasn’t innocent.
 
Not like Ordin or Enael or countless others.
 
He was a Fallen One.
 
There is no redemption for them.”

“And me?” She looks up into his eyes through her tears.
 

His gaze softens as he leans in close, fitting his nose into the natural curve of her own.
 
His breath washes over her face and she closes her eyes, inhaling his familiar scent.
 
It is stronger than before and more pronounced than when he was a human.
 
She doesn’t think it is possible to be more attracted to him than she is in this very moment.

“I saved you.
 
Our love did that.
 
There is nothing left to redeem,” he whispers, placing soft kisses on her eyes, nose and cheeks.
 

Her chest rises and falls with each caress.
 
She leans into him, desperate for his words to be true.
 
Does he have that sort of power?
 
It’s true that he took her poison upon himself, removing Lucien’s vile blood from her own, but can he save her from her deeds?

His lips press warmly against the corner of her mouth and she moans, wrapping her arms tightly around his back, sealing them together.
 
Gabriel pulls back just enough to look down at her.
 
She pouts, tugging him close again, but he resists.
 

His smile is warm as he bares his heart.
 
“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on.”

A blush rises into her cheeks as she smiles.
 
“That’s a terrible line.”

Roseline savors the taste of his lips as he silences her.
 
He presses her back against the wall, molding his body around hers.
 
She claws at his back, begging for him to be closer.
 

As she parts her lips, she vows that she will never let anyone separate them again.

***

L
ucien paces only a few steps in front of the blistering heat of the fire, penance for letting his anger get the better of him.
 
He knew the phone call was only a matter of time.
 
Fane couldn’t let his rampage continue. The sorry sap cares far too much for the humans.

What Lucien hadn’t expected was to hear Roseline’s voice on the other end of the line.

It was her tone that threw him into a fit of rage. She was normal.
 
Completely normal.

His claws clack against the wooden floor as he turns and heads back the way he came.
 
Something happened up there.
 
Something major.

Lucien has been stewing over Roseline’s words all morning.
 
It’s time.

Two simple words, but he has no doubt about their meaning.
 
She wants revenge and he will be more than happy to bring it to her.
 
There is one final kink in his plan that he must sort out first.
 

He should have gone to Russia himself.
 
The Eltat can be trusted for their loyalty but not their brilliance.
 
By the time he discovered Gabriel’s location, the boy was already long gone.
 
But Lucien did manage to collect something of value.

Lucien turns and leers down at the blonde haired girl that sits propped in the corner.
 
An ugly purple bruise mars her cheek.
 
Her lower lip is split open, but the bleeding has stopped.
 
Lucien can tell that she can no longer see clearly out of her right eye, but the left is wide and glaring openly at him.

“You have my spirit, Katia.
 
I like that,” he says in fluent Russian as he turns to walk toward her.
 
“Too bad about your mother though.
 
She might have lived if she’d been half the fighter you are.”

Katia’s lip cracks open with fresh blood as she spits at his boots.
 
“My mother was a great woman.”

Lucien laughs as he sinks down before her.
 
“How would you know?
 
She died giving birth to you.”

She leans forward, straining against her manacles.
 
They cuff at her wrists and ankles, chained to the floor between her legs.
 
“Because I am nothing like you.”

Lucien’s lips peel back into a gruesome grin.
 
Blood stains the cracks between his pointed teeth, evidence of a recent feeding.
 
He watches as she reacts to the putrid scent wafting from his mouth.

“With that look in your eye, I’d say you wouldn’t hesitate to rip out my throat if you had half a chance.
 
That makes you a murderer.”

Katia’s eyes narrow.
 
“Killer.
 
There’s a difference.”

“No.” He shakes his head and laughs.
 
“You would enjoy it.
 
That makes it murder.”

He crosses the room in five long strides and pauses at the door.
 
“Don’t do anything stupid.
 
I’d hate to kill you before the big event.”

With the flip of his finger, he plunges her into near darkness.
 
Only the light of the flickering fire in the hearth is left to keep her company as he seals the door behind him.

Twenty-Five

R
oseline looks up from her blade, the sharpening stone in her hand falling still as she watches Gabriel pace back and forth before her.
 
He has made the same trek countless times throughout the evening.
 
He never speaks and never pauses, but his growing weariness is becoming more obvious with each pass.
  

“You need to save your strength,” she says, resuming her work.
 
The blade glistens in her hand.
 
It will soon be sharpened enough to slice cleanly through an immortal’s sternum.
 

It feels good to have her swords in hand again.
 
She feels grounded for the first time since the attack on Bran Castle.

It’s hard for her to really comprehend that her time spent in the pit was only a couple of weeks rather than years.
 
In the three lifetimes she has been alive, never has such a small amount of time stretched on like eternity.

She will have to thank Lucien personally when she sees him again.

“You can’t expect to survive this war if you’re hardly able to walk.”
 
She runs the stone along the edge of her blade, savoring the familiar grating sound.
 
Fane used to chide her about using such archaic methods, but she refuses to change.
 
This feels right.
 
It is who she is.
 
The world may change around her, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it.
  

Gabriel lifts his head to stare at her, blinking rapidly, as if trying to process her words.
 
“I’m not scared, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he says defensively.
 

“Who said I was thinking anything at all?”
 
Another swipe with the stone. This time the glide is slightly smoother.
 
If she were to run her finger along the blade now, it would certainly leave a mark.
 

Gabriel latches onto the back of a chair.
 
The muscle along his jaw flinches as he grinds his back teeth.
 
She can tell he is frustrated, angry even, but she remains silent.
 
He will speak when he is ready.

He sighs and sinks down onto the seat across from her.
 
He leans forward to place his face in his hands, his elbows propped up against his knees.
 
The seat looks far from comfortable, but then again, the Senthe base was designed for functionality.
 

“I can’t help feeling like all of this is my fault,” he mutters into his hands.

“Your fault?”
 
Roseline frowns and sets her blade on the table.
 
She pushes back, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares at the crown of his head.
 
“I think there is plenty of guilt to go around.”

She should have known this would happen.
 
Although Gabriel is obviously far more than just a human, he was raised as one and must be struggling to deal with the transition.
 
Roseline has had over three hundred years to adjust.
 
He has had just a few weeks.
 
She can only imagine what must be jumbled up in his mind.

“No matter how I look at it, I’m at the center of everything that has happened.
 
Good or bad, I’m involved.”
 
When he looks up, his gaze is hollow, vacant and lifeless.
 
“Why is this happening to me, Rose?”

The right half of the
Arotas
cross, etched deep into Roseline’s silver blade, burns bright blue as Gabriel absently runs his finger across the cold surface.
 
His own tattoos begin to pulsate with brilliant waves of blue.
 

“Don’t even think about changing the subject.
 
It’s a sword.
 
Nothing more.”
 
She leans forward in her seat.
 
The leather thongs that crisscross the length of her black pants stretch taut as she bends to meet him eye to eye.
 
“None of this is your fault.
 
Seneh.
 
This war.
 
My capture.
 
It all happened for a reason, but you are wrong about one thing.
 
This isn’t just about you.”

“Then what is it about?”
 
The skin around his eyes is notably darker than earlier in the day.
 
His skin is almost pasty in complexion.
 
His hair has lost much of its blond sheen.
 
Instead, his strands look thin and stringy, oily to the point of appearing unkempt.
 
He looks more human than immortal at the moment and that terrifies her.
 

What if Lucien’s poison has somehow reversed his transformation?
 
Can immortality be reversed?

She shudders at the thought.
 
He would be like a lamb sent to the slaughter tomorrow.

Roseline struggles to shove aside her doubts as she stares him down, determined not to give away any hint to her mounting fear.
 
“This is about survival.
 
Seneh believed in you.
 
He gave his life to ensure that you would survive and to fulfill your mission.
 
I may not know much about this prophecy, but I know that people are dying because of it and that means whatever your role is in all of this, it’s major.
 
I have a feeling your actions tomorrow will be far more pivotal than any of us realize.”

Gabriel’s brow furrows.
 
“No pressure then, huh?”

She leans forward and grasps his hand.
 
“This war is no longer just about good and evil, Gabriel.
 
It’s about our survival.
 
Humans know about us now.
 
We can’t go back to living among them, hoping that stories and legends will keep them at bay.
 
They are getting braver.
 
Some are starting to fight back.
 
You have heard the reports coming out of Africa and China.
 
Immortals are dying.
 
My friends, who are as innocent as you and I, deserve this.
 
If we don’t stop this madness here and now, I fear what might happen.”

“An old time manhunt?”

She nods.
 
“It’s already happening.
 
Lucien has whipped the entire world into a frenzy, and I don’t think life for us will ever be the same.”

“So what do we do?”

Roseline offers him a half-hearted smile as she squeezes his hand.
 
“We take one day at a time.
 
First, we take down Lucien and then figure the rest out after.”

“And what about you?”
 

His fingers flinch in hers and she twists her wrist slightly to allow her fingers to twine through his.
 
“You saved my life.”

“I did, didn’t I?”
 
Gabriel grins.
 
He rises from his chair and skirts the edge of the rectangular meeting table without breaking his hold on her hand.
 
Sinking into the chair beside her, he tugs gently, pulling her forward.
 

Unable to resist his charm, she allows herself to be drawn to him, swinging her leg out so that she easily sinks into his lap.
 
Removing her hand free from his, she wraps her arms around his neck.
 

“I guess we’re even now,” he mutters, his gaze lowering to focus on her lips.
 

She can feel the urgency in his fingers as they knead at her lower back, begging to sneak beneath the lace sewn onto her leather corset.
 
She laughs at the pout that tugs at his lips when she places a hand on his chest to stop him from stealing a kiss.
 
“I’m trying to be serious right now.”

“Me too.”
 
When she shoots him a stern look, he laughs and leans back but doesn’t move his hands away.
 
“Fine.
 
I’ll behave.
 
For now…”

Roseline gently cups his face in her hands and leans close to lightly brush her lips against his.
 
“It’s not that I’m not interested.”

“But…”

“But right now you need to be focused.
 
You’ve never been in a battle like this before.”
 
Her grip on his cheeks tightens.
 
“I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.
 
I’ve trained.”

A cascade of loose bronze curls falls over her bare shoulders as she shakes her head.
 
“This is different.
 
You’ve never taken a life before.”

“I almost did” she places her finger on his lips to still his indignant protest.

“Fighting to retrieve that fire sword isn’t the same thing as looking in someone’s eyes as you bury your dagger in their heart.
 
You’ve never had to hear the final beats of life or watch the light fade from their eyes.”
 
She leans back, letting her hands fall to his chest, directly over his heart.
 
“You feel their death, Gabriel.
 
Enemy or not, your first death will forever haunt you.”

“Did yours?”

She nods, sighing heavily.
 
“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He reaches out and pulls back the curtain of hair that has fallen over her left eye.
 
“Will you tell me someday?”

“Someday,” she whispers, knowing that she will avoid that conversation for as long as she can.
 
The memory of her first death is tied intricately with her honeymoon with Vladimir and that is a memory she would rather never share with Gabriel.

He leans in close, so close she feels dizzy with the heady aroma of his scent.
 
No matter how many times she is with him, it never ceases to overwhelm her.
 
“Promise me something.”

The sharp edge of his words puts her on alert.
 
What could he possibly want?
 
His eyes search her face as he places his hand over hers, holding them tightly to his chest.
 
“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid tomorrow.”

Roseline laughs.
 
“And here I thought you were gonna try to be all macho and tell me to stay behind.”

“Like that would ever happen!”
 
He grins, leaning forward to plant a kiss fully on her lips.
 

She melts into his embrace as his arms wind around her back, pulling her close.
 
She considers pulling away to finish their conversation, but as his mouth parts and his tongue darts across her lower lip, she can’t remember why they haven’t just been doing this the entire time.

***

F
ane glares up at William from across the room, his annoyance mounting.
 
He was fine with the first few wooden stake wisecracks, but now the boy is taking it too far.
 
William may diffuse his fear with humor, but Fane has his limits too.
 
He rises from his seat and weaves through the swarm of hunters that fills the conference room.
 
They arrived last night under the cloak of dark and there is little room to maneuver now.

Immortals from all areas of the globe have been filtering in throughout the day.
 
They now stand three hundred strong with nearly two hundred hunters alongside.
 
Fane has no idea what sort of an army Lucien will bring with him, but after Roseline’s call, he has no doubt Lucien will pull every servant, gutter rat and immortal into this fight.

On the eve of battle, everyone tries to enjoy one last night with their friends and brothers.