Chapter 39
Gabriel
Gabriel scaled the rooftops near the docks, concealed by night and mist. He crouched at the edge of an industrial building, offering an aerial view of Club De La Rue.
In the back alley, Hamza shouted orders to the investigators on the scene while reporters strained to see beyond the outer perimeter.
A body was pulled from the dumpster, and Gabriel inched closer, narrowing his gaze on the blood-caked face. It wasn’t the body he was looking for.
The deceased had clearly been tortured to death. Patches of skin removed, scalp and genitals burned, fingers and toes chopped off. His brother swore, holding his breath while two of his men retched off to the side.
This casualty had nothing to do with the subsiding war.
Gabriel was sure of it. Kyrin didn’t have the stomach or the patience for this type of depravity.
Brawn over brains, his kills were a lot more predictable, less imaginative.
A bullet to the head, a shiv between the ribcage. That was more his style.
Gabriel knew less about the Armenians, but their kill-list—outside of Kyrin and his men—didn’t concern him at the moment.
A train horn went off in the distance, drawing Gabriel’s gaze to the heart of the city. He checked the time. Nicholas would be done with work soon. He stood to his full height, sparing another glance at the corpse being bagged before racing across town.
He landed atop the bodega facing the shelter just as Nicholas exited through the side door with the dogs.
He left his bike chained at the curb, choosing to walk instead.
Gabriel followed to ensure they made it home safe, remaining at least three rooftops behind.
He leapt from structure to structure, landing silently onto the pavement when an intersection got in the way.
The night was cold, the streets dark, and barely a car drove by.
Gabriel kept to the shadows for a few blocks before scaling a brick building. He preferred to watch and follow from above, able to see a threat from all angles.
The mist turned to weighted drops of rain, and the empty streets grew slick. Nicholas walked as if his senses were dulled, as though he had things on his mind and couldn’t wait to be alone with them.
That worried Gabriel, but at least he had Ezekiel, Malachi, and Maxim.
Part of their training was to identify subtle signs of danger.
Marcus worked with them on it constantly, and Maxim especially took the task seriously.
He observed his surroundings with an all-consuming focus as he trotted alongside Nicholas.
Gabriel sped ahead, dropping into the gangway between the two apartment buildings facing Nicholas’s. He landed lightly on his feet, but not deep enough into the passageway. He and Maxim made eye contact.
Gabriel backed further into the narrow opening until his back met a wall, holding his breath as all three dogs barked. He could hear Nicholas struggle to control them, could imagine him casting out, trying to decipher what possibly lurked in the dark alcove.
Glancing above his head, Gabriel sprang upward, landing at the top of the fire escape before sprinting in the direction of home.
Exhaling a lungful of spiced smoke, Gabriel considered the ocean, craving a grueling swim. The downpour had slowed to a near stop, making him regret not having indulged the need sooner. He preferred the challenge of propelling through waters roughened by storm.
He set his cigarette on the drink cart, tugging off his tie as the front door opened. Marcus and the dogs entered from the foyer. His friend gave him a pointed look.
“Does he know?”
“That you’ve been keeping an eye on him? No, but he isn’t a fool. One more close call and he will begin to suspect.”
Gabriel left his view near the glass wall, meeting them by the couch. He engaged with the dogs, Maxim more needy than usual. They smelled of sweetwater and sunshine, and Gabriel would’ve inhaled it directly from their pelt if Marcus hadn’t been there to witness it.
“I didn’t know you were picking them up tonight.”
“Did I not mention it?”
“No. Likely because I haven’t heard from you in days.”
Now he sounded like the needy one, but he couldn’t help feeling like something was amiss with Marcus. He was more contemplative and private than usual—which said a lot. Text messages went unanswered, and even things as minor as picking up the dogs went unsaid.
Perhaps Gabriel was just on edge and looking for something, or someone, to lash out at. Maybe no longer killing for a living meant he and Marcus would naturally see less of each other. Perhaps he couldn’t handle his friend having a life that didn’t revolve around him.
Gabriel wasn’t sure, but either way, it frustrated him when Marcus didn’t push back against his cutting remark.
He scooped up a ball tucked into the arm of the couch, tossing it near the stairs. The brothers went charging for it, freeing him up to pour a drink.
“So, how is he?”
Marcus never relayed information on Nicholas unless Gabriel outright asked, and he didn’t ask often. He wanted to respect Nicholas’s new life, his space, and, regardless of what Marcus thought, he didn’t keep as much of a close eye on Nicholas as he wanted to.
He’d occasionally confirm that he’d made it home safely, especially on a night like tonight. Seeing him alive and well eased something in Gabriel after having seen death.
Sometimes he’d scope out the surrounding area of his school and the shelter just to be certain he didn’t spot any suspicious activity.
“He seems happy.”
“Seems?” He stilled with his glass at his lips.
“He’s not unhappy, Sayyidi. Nicholas is more sure of himself and what he wants; that much is clear.”
“But?” Gabriel set his drink aside.
“I think it’s time he knew. Not telling him about the blood-bond may have begun with the best of intentions, but after seeing him tonight… He isn’t getting over you, so at this point, withholding that information borders on cruelty.”
Hurting Nicholas was never Gabriel’s goal. But could Rayyaan be reading the situation incorrectly? He and Nicholas had been separated for some time now, and he believed Nicholas had grown content with that.
“What do you mean he isn’t getting over me?”
“He misses you. He asked about you, wanted to know if you were okay.”
“That doesn’t mean he misses me.”
His tone suggested he wanted more, that he wanted Marcus to convince him. He might as well have fallen to his knees and begged.
Marcus looked hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure if saying more would help or hurt. Gabriel would be the judge of that.
“Tell me.”
“His apartment smelled of spiced tobacco, and there were a few mementos of you around.”
Tobacco?
Gabriel’s desperation carried him back over to his friend.
“Mementos? Such as?”
The dogs barked and played while he waited for Marcus to end—or worsen—his suffering.
“His room door hadn’t been closed all the way.
One of your suit jackets was spread across his bed.
Along one side of it, as if it slept there.
As if you slept there. There was something else in the kitchen and living room, but they weren’t in plain sight.
Your scent was heavy in both places, though. ”
Gabriel turned away, afraid of what Marcus would see in his expression. He’d turned toward the glass wall, though, his pain and yearning reflected there for them both to witness.
“Maybe my scent lingered from my last visit.”
He needed that to be the truth, while wanting it to be a lie. Could Nicholas still want him? The thought moved through him like a heartbeat, pounding away and giving life to every dead part of him.
“No. I don’t think so,” Marcus said. “He also touched on the abating war.”
“He wanted to know if I would go after Kyrin, didn’t he?”
They hadn’t been able to locate Kyrin. A first for Gabriel.
He had to assume he was already dead. Neither he nor his lieutenant had been seen since the night they sped away from Kyrin’s compound.
But knowing Nicholas didn’t trust him, didn’t take him at his word, crushed something already fragile in Gabriel.
“He was relieved to know that you wouldn’t. To know he was right about you.”
Oh.
Gabriel paced away, rubbing a hand across his chest to soothe the ache there.
He didn’t think he could long for Nicholas more than he already did, but knowing that he still thought about him, that he still cared and had faith in him after all, did dangerous things to his heart.
It set it ablaze with hope. He needed a distraction before the blaze turned him to ash.
“Speaking of Kyrin, I’ve been thinking about something he said to me about his men that night at the restaurant.”
“Many of them are still missing.”
He relayed Kyrin’s words to Marcus.
“I didn’t think much of it then.” Gabriel had assumed they’d been killed and buried somewhere, falling victim to the life they’d chosen for themselves.
“What do you think of it now?”
Gabriel grew pensive, thinking of all the loose threads he’d been frustratingly working to connect for weeks. “I’m thinking that maybe the war was the perfect distraction.”
“For what?”
“That’s left to be seen.”
And that was where his distraction ended, where his temporary reprieve gave way to thoughts of Nicholas.
“How is his blood supply? Maybe I should—”
“Between Hamza and me, he has enough, Sayyidi.”
Gabriel grunted, the flame of jealousy a beacon in his core, burning bright. He wanted to be the one to care for Nicholas, to ensure all his needs were met.
“I see. So tell him the truth, but don’t tend to his sustenance.”
“I’m not saying you should be the one to tell him about the blood-bond, just that he needs to know. Coming from you might enrage him. He may be enraged either way, but I think giving him time to come to terms with it before facing you might be best.”
He was right. Gabriel ambled over to his abandoned drink, sipping as the world grew bleaker around him. He’d experienced loneliness before, centuries of it. But nothing compared to wanting something that was there but still out of reach, something he couldn’t live without but possibly had to.
Gabriel’s mood was a night sky absent of stars, a forest without trees, an ocean with no floor. His darkness felt empty and endless, and he wanted to be alone with it.
“Will you take them with you tonight?”
“I would, but I have something I need to do. It could take a while. I’ll come for them in the morning.”
Gabriel faced him, eyes flashing amber.
“Something like what?”
He watched his friend struggle with indecision, jaw tensing before he walked away.
“Marcus,” he called. Marcus stopped, but kept his back to him.
Gabriel spoke in a tone full of warning, with an undercurrent of fear.
“Whatever it is that you’re keeping from me, I hope it’s something I can forgive you for.”