The Revelation of Gabriel Adam (15 page)

“I wasn’t trying to . . .
She
smiled at
me
.”

He walked to the bar and wedged between two groups of students. One hooligan tried to sneak a free pull off one of the kegs, which earned him a swat from the barmaid.

Once Gabe got her attention, she came right over, looking pleased to get away from her admirers. “Something to drink?” she said in an Irish accent.

“A stout and a, uh . . .” Gabe looked at the different beers on the wall and realized he had no idea what to order. He thought beer was just, well, beer. “Two stouts, please.”

“Canadian?” she asked.

“American, actually.”

“I haven’t seen you round the pub. Are you a student from one of the other colleges?” She poured the stouts from the tap, filling each glass halfway up.

“No. I go to Castle. Just transferred in.”

“Well, hope to see you round, then.” The barmaid finished pouring each pint and knifed off the rim of the glasses, scraping away the extra head. “Cheers,” she said with a wink and handed them over.

“Yeah, cheers,” he said. Gabe paid for the pints with a few coin pounds and returned to his seat next to Micah.

“I thought she was going to bloody jump your bones, the tart. Could she have been more obvious?” Micah sneered toward the bar.

“What?” Gabe asked. “She was just getting the beer.”

“Well, she fancies you. Played right, you might get more than a drink. A trip to the general practitioner, likely.”

Gabe rolled his eyes and Micah laughed.

There was a short silence between them. “God, this day. Can you believe it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Gabe said. “Seriously. I’m having enough trouble trying to digest what I’ve already heard.”

“You’re starting to accept it, then?” Micah asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe I’m just going along because I’m sick of fighting with my own sanity. I mean, I’m in
England.
It’s like I’m living someone else’s life. Or dreaming. Like when I wake up, I’ll be back in New York. It’s all so weird.” He drank his first sip of the dark stout and nearly choked. “Good Lord. You could chew this!
Disgusting
.”

“You’ll get used to it.” She winked.

“I’d rather not,” he said and pushed the glass away.

The table next to them broke out in a fit of laughter. One of the guys closest to Micah leaned over and asked, “You two fancy a game of kings?”

“I don’t think—,” she started.

“Sure,” Gabe said, cutting her off. “Anything to get me out of this conversation. You’ll have to catch us up on the rules.”

He looked at Micah, who feigned a hurt expression. “You may need catching up, but I don’t,” she said. “I’ll have you know I’m the queen of kings.”

“She reckons she’s a player, lads,” the student said to the rest of the crowd. He motioned for them to join the group and said, “I’m Yuri, by the way. We’re from Collingwood College.”

“Gabe. Nice to meet you.”

Yuri smiled at Micah, brushing some of his shaggy blond hair out of his face, and did a mock bow. “Highness, is it?”

“Micah will do. What are you lot doing at the Undercroft? Collingwood’s pub not good enough?”

“Oh, don’t be coy. We know all about you Castle girls. Very keen is what we’ve heard.” Yuri laughed, elbowing the guy next to him.

“What a coincidence. Because that is exactly what we’ve heard about you Collingwood boys.
Very
keen,” Micah said, letting her wrist go limp and mockingly elbowing Gabe.

Some of Yuri’s friends caught her implication and broke into a fit of laughter.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The drinking games lasted several hours into the night with the group in a constant state of laughter nearly the whole time. It was nice to just be a normal student, even if for only one night, and Gabe guessed Micah felt the same way.

He received a lot of attention for being American, then more attention for being a likable American. Several of the girls who joined in showed some flirtatious interest, including one particularly forward girl from Glasgow, which he certainly didn’t mind. He noted Micah receiving similar advances from Yuri and the other guys.

At some point, the barmaid announced that the Undercroft had to close. Like the other students, Gabe was not ready to turn in.

Yuri seemed to be in charge of the mob and jumped onto a chair in the middle of their group. “Down to the club or back to mine for the Wall of Death?”

An overwhelming shout for the Wall of Death erupted from several of the students.

“To Collingwood Palace, then!”

Having switched from beer to energy drinks early in the night, Gabe had an ungodly amount of caffeine surging through his system. He felt up for anything.

Yuri jumped down and threw his arm around Micah, leading the crowd toward the exit. Gabe cursed himself for not having Yuri’s confidence or his tall quarterback’s build. Sure, several of the girls were pretty enough, but none of them held a candle to Micah. She was witty and likeable, with a wicked smile and a magnetic look. Had he not known her, she would have been the first person he noticed if he’d just walked into the room.

Rowdy and unfazed by the late hour, several of Yuri’s friends sang a soccer fight song at the top of their lungs for the entire half-hour walk from Castle College. Micah followed, clapping and joining in the chant as they crossed Kingsgate Bridge and then climbed Church Street toward Collingwood College. Gabe wondered what the police presence was like in Durham and how many nuisance laws they were breaking with all the noise.

Near the New Inn, the mob turned a corner and converged near a row of townhomes. At the first house, Yuri pressed through the group to unlock the entrance. He opened his door wide and said, “Welcome to Collingwood Palace. Beer in the fridge, spirits in the cabinet. What’s mine is yours.”

It was difficult not to be instantly jealous of the entertainment system sporting a flat-screen television that Gabe suspected doubled for the local movie theater. Clearly, Yuri was the man to be affiliated with at the university.

Several guys cracked open beers, turned on the giant screen and satellite programming to the sports channel, and spread out on the couch as if they lived here.

A loud pop across the room startled Gabe. Yuri approached Micah with a freshly poured glass of champagne and a bottle of bubbly.

He then pointed to Gabe and said, “As an honored guest to our beloved United Kingdom, I think you should be the first to attempt the Wall of Death. Prove to us that you Americans know how to have as much fun as us Brits.”

Gabe saw an opportunity to gain some favor with the other students and maybe even impress Micah. “Bring on the Wall of Death, then.”

Yuri took Gabe, Micah, and the rest of the spectators into the kitchen where a series of five bottles waited, turned upside down and affixed to a dispensing mechanism on the wall that looked as if it had been stolen from a pub. Each bottle attached to a spout with a handle that released their contents.

“The rules of the Wall of Death are as follows: you’ll need to assume the position, as it were, under each of the spouts and prepare yourself. I, as king of
this
castle”—the Collingwood students roared with applause at the jab at the other school—“will pour a fair but yet to be determined amount. You are to drink it, swallow, and then immediately move on to the next bottle until the circuit is completed. Spill very little, if you please. Now, just so you’re aware, we have a whisky, a vodka, a cider, a peach schnapps, and a lager.”

The description of the lineup made Gabe’s stomach turn.

“Step up, sir,” Yuri said as if taunting him. “And if I may make one suggestion . . . breathe through your nose.”

Gabe maneuvered under the first spout and opened his mouth. Before he was ready, the whisky flowed. He choked but managed to get it all in. Yuri was being liberal with the quantity. Gabe swallowed, and his throat felt like it was on fire. Then he was under the second spout. Vodka filled his mouth. For a split second he thought it might come up through his nose, but he persisted, his eyes watering, nearly blinding him. Then the cider, repulsive and sugary. The taste combined with the previous two and caused his stomach to lurch. Not wanting to think about it, he moved on.

“Come on, Gabriel,” Micah shouted.

Fueled by her encouragement, Gabe opened his mouth for the peach schnapps. It was almost a relief in taste, but feeling it mix in his stomach with the others caused him to break out in a worrisome sweat. He was running out of breath as the lager hit his mouth.

This has got to end
, he thought.

With his mouth filled, he was forced to swallow. Yuri continued to pour. A small amount splashed onto the floor. Before Gabe could quit, the game mercifully ended.

The carbonation of the lager seared his throat, and his eyes burned.

“We have a result, ladies and gentlemen!” Yuri shouted.

Gabe stumbled and choked as the students cheered. His stomach told him at any moment he could be sick, but he fought the urge in the presence of Micah. Somebody handed him a towel. The room spun.

Yuri smiled like a game show host as he slapped Gabe on the back, perhaps a little too hard. “Welcome to England, my son. Hell of a job for a Yank.”

Micah laughed and applauded. “Well done, Gabe. Hell of a job for anybody.”

“We’ll see. You’re next, Micah.” Yuri grabbed her by the waist to position her in front of the Wall of Death.

“No, I’ve had too much already,” she protested.

The crowd roused, insisting, even more excited for her attempt. If his head hadn’t been spinning so hard, Gabe might have been able to help her. Instead, Yuri poured the whisky into her open mouth while holding her captive under the bottle.

A lot fell from the spout, and Gabe wondered if he had taken the same amount. She was already choking by the time she finished the whisky. Half the vodka portion fell to the floor when she stood up, choking and laughing along with the rest of the crowd. She playfully hit Yuri on the shoulder.

He, of course, had the crowd cheering her name.

When Micah finished straightening her clothes and wiping her chin, laughing the whole time, Yuri handed her the champagne flute she’d neglected. Gabe wondered how such a jerk move got such great results.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Gabe sat on the couch next to several students he didn’t know and watched them play soccer on a video game console—the latest and most expensive one, naturally. Ever since the Wall of Death he’d been trying unsuccessfully to sober up, downing nothing but water. He couldn’t stand the sight of hard alcohol, and the beer had lasted about five minutes, leaving only fruity liquor and some rancid cider drink that came in plastic two-liter soda bottles. It smelled like socks.
Old socks
.

Some time had passed since he’d seen Micah, and, thankfully, the girl from Glasgow who had pestered him all night for attention had stopped flirting, only to pass out on the couch in an unflattering position. Gabe wanted to go back to his dorm room and give up on the evening.

The clock on the wall caught his eye. He couldn’t believe how late it was, or more accurately, how early. In the back of his mind lingered the notion that something wasn’t right and that he should stay and make sure Micah was okay.
She can take care of herself
, he thought.
Anyway, who am I to act like someone’s guardian angel?
He laughed at the unintended joke in his head.

The students playing the video game gave him an odd look.

“Inside joke,” Gabe said to them and pulled himself away from the deep cushions of the couch, already thinking about his warm bed. The night was done. He took a moment to find his balance and then made his way toward the exit.

Upstairs, a door slammed, and Micah shouted something.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked toward the foyer, Gabe included.

Before he could even comprehend what was going on, Micah stormed down the staircase, practically bouncing off the walls. “Bastard!” she shouted to no one in particular. She reached the front door and pushed past Gabe.

“What’s wrong?”

“That . . . perverted . . .” She turned and shouted up the stairs, “Bastard!”

He followed her out the door and tried to keep up.

Yuri stumbled down the stairs behind them. He was shirtless and probably drunk, the cold having no effect. “Gabe, my son, why don’t you go inside and fix yourself another? Me and the young miss have a bit to work out of her.”

Gabe grabbed him by the arm and prevented him from pursuing her. “Why don’t you go back to your palace and call it a night? She’s obviously not interested.”

“Get your hands off me,” Yuri shouted and, in an explosion of anger, shoved Gabe to the ground. He hit hard, the wet snow soaking into his clothes.