Dark Alchemy: Catch 22 (The Children Of The Gods #104)

Chapter 1 Mattie

MATTIE

Seven months ago, Sydney

The bass pounding through the loudspeakers reverberated through Mattie's bones, rattling every organ in her body.

She groaned. "Remind me again why we are in a nightclub instead of having dinner at Esteban's?"

"Because celebrating a girl's twenty-third birthday in a restaurant is boring." Gwyneth raised her glass. "To Adele! The one, the only, the fabulous!" she shouted over the music.

"Fabulous!" Mattie echoed, clinking her whiskey sour against her friends' drinks.

Adele shook her head, her dark, artfully styled curls bouncing. "I can't believe you dragged me here, but I'm glad you did. I needed bad drinks and loud music after breaking up with him, he who shall not be named."

Gwyneth wrapped her arm around Adele's shoulders. "You said you're feeling old, and that's not how you should feel tonight. Twenty-three means dancing until your feet hurt and making questionable decisions."

"I make plenty of those." Adele laughed. "Just look at my list of exes."

Her last ex had a restaurant at the Westfield Sydney, where the three of them worked. If Adele wanted to avoid bumping into him, she would need to find a job somewhere else, which was unthinkable.

The highlight of their workdays was meeting for lunch at the food court.

Gwyneth motioned at the nearly full glass in Mattie's hand. "Drink up. You're too sober and too quiet."

"You are making enough noise for the three of us." Mattie took another sip.

The whiskey sour was sweet, tart, and warming, loosening the tension she carried in her shoulders.

Crowds made her nervous, and a packed club was an absolute nightmare, but despite the crowd and despite the excruciating noise level, she was going to do her best to at least appear as if she was having fun at her friend's birthday celebration.

As the music changed to something softer and more melodic, easing the assault on her eardrums, Mattie sighed in relief and turned to watch several couples gravitate toward the dance floor.

She couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the carefree ease with which their bodies moved. She used to love dancing, but that was before her legs had become a map of scar tissue and damaged muscle.

Now her dance moves would be awkward at best.

The fire that had claimed the lives of her parents had miraculously spared her, and she often wondered whether it was so she could do something great, something meaningful, something that would save many lives or at least improve them.

A small voice in the back of her head whispered that she was just looking for a way out from under the devastating guilt.

That she rationalized having been spared by convincing herself she was meant to do something important.

That God, or the universe, or whatever higher power was in charge, had a mission for her.

"Hello, ladies." The voice coming from her left was smooth and confident.

Mattie turned to find a man standing beside her, tall and dark-haired, with the kind of face that belonged on a magazine cover. High cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that were somewhere between green and gold in the shifting club lights.

"Would you like to dance?" He flashed her a charming smile and offered her his hand as if she had already said yes.

Mattie hesitated. Ever since her injury, dancing with any measure of grace was impossible.

This handsome guy saw her pretty face, her long blond hair, and her blue eyes, and thought that she was sitting alone with her friends and waiting for Prince Charming to arrive and sweep her off her feet.

But when her uneven gait betrayed her and she limped, he would be disappointed with his choice, regretting that he hadn't asked Gwyneth or Adele to dance with him instead.

It wouldn't be the first time that a guy changed his mind after realizing that only half of her was beautiful.

She should politely decline, say something about tired feet or too much alcohol making her unsteady, but she couldn't bring herself to do that. The whiskey sour dulled her inhibitions, and she hadn't danced with a guy in forever, and this one was so incredibly good-looking.

Mattie smiled at him. "I'm not a good dancer," she warned him.

"Neither am I." He took her hand. "We can be terrible together and stomp on everyone's toes."

She laughed. "Alright. One dance, and please try to steer away from unsuspecting feet."

"Can't make any promises." He helped her up.

Gwyneth gave her a thumbs-up, and Adele grinned like this was the best birthday present she'd gotten.

Hopefully, her friends hadn't conspired with Mr. Good-looking, arranging for him to ask Mattie to dance to boost her confidence. It had been a long time since she'd gone on a date, but she wasn't as desperate as that. She would never forgive them if they had talked him into asking her.

The music was pulsing and rhythmic, easy enough to move to without requiring any real skill, and Mattie just swayed in place and tried not to think about how her left leg sometimes spasmed without warning.

The guy, on the other hand, was a surprisingly good dancer despite what he'd told her, moving like someone who had danced all his life.

"You lied about being bad at this," she accused. "Where did you learn to dance like that?"

"Nightclubs mostly. I just watched and emulated other people." He smiled and pulled her a little closer. "What do I call you other than beautiful?" His voice had dropped at least half an octave on the question.

Mattie felt her cheeks heat up. "Matilda. Mattie to my friends."

Challenge shone in his eyes. "Can I call you Mattie?"

He wasn't her friend, and she would probably never see him again after tonight, but it would be rude to insist that he call her Matilda.

"Sure," she said instead.

"Does that make me your friend?" he asked.

"It sure does."

What else could she have said?

"I'm Gabriel," he told her, but the name came out slightly stilted, as if he had to think about it for a fraction of a second before saying it. As if it didn't quite fit in his mouth.

Perhaps it wasn't his real name, and he was using a fake one because he was married and didn't want to get caught with his hand in the cookie jar?

Not that it mattered.

It was just one dance, and she would probably never see him again.

"Gabriel, like the angel?" she teased, expecting him to say something about being no angel and acting all sexy and seductive.

"Precisely. What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink? I can tell you all about my angelic attributes."

She should say no, but he was asking so politely, and he was so handsome, and what was the harm in one drink?

"It would be my pleasure," she said with the same politeness he'd used.

His smile was so bright it could have illuminated the entire dance floor. "That's great." He guided her through the crowd with his hand on the small of her back.

There were no vacant seats at the bar, and Mattie winced, expecting to stand, but then Gabriel glared at two guys, and the pair shot up as if he had tasered them. They had been bothering no one, just sitting there and nursing their beers, and something about the interaction made her uneasy.

Still, when he pulled out a stool for her, she was grateful for being able to sit.

"What can I get for you, beautiful?" he asked.

"Whiskey sour," she said automatically.

The glass she'd left behind was still more than half full, and she should have declined the offer and gone back to her table, but that would have hurt his feelings, and she didn't want to do that even if something about him made her uncomfortable.

He ordered what she'd asked for and a neat shot for himself.

Straddling the stool next to her, he turned to face her with that magazine-cover smile. "Where are you from, Mattie?"

"I'm originally from Perth, but now I live here."

"Do you have family in Perth?"

The question hit a wound that had never healed. "My parents died when I was fifteen."

"I'm so sorry." His voice was warm with sympathy, and his expression was appropriately somber. "That must have been incredibly difficult to lose your parents at such a young age."

"It was." Mattie took a sip of her drink, not wanting to elaborate, then another, hoping he would stop asking her painful questions.

She'd learned a long time ago that talking about the fire was too much for most people to stomach, and mentioning the months of skin grafts and physical therapy was a sure way to chase away even the bravest of souls.

"Any siblings?" Gabriel continued his interrogation.

"No. I was an only child."

"Who took care of you after your parents died?"

"My grandmother." Mattie took a sip from her drink. "She died three and a half years ago." She took one more, then another.

The glass was nearly empty now.

"So, you're alone."

Something about the way he'd said it made her look up. He hadn't sounded sad or pitying. And now that she looked at him, she saw a gleam in his eyes that shouldn't be there. It was a predatory look if ever she saw one.

Assessing. Calculating.

Her inner alarm shrieked to life.

"I should get back to my friends." She started to rise from the stool.

The room tilted.

Mattie grabbed the edge of the bar, blinking rapidly as the world swam around her. She hadn't consumed enough alcohol for the floor to undulate beneath her feet, for the lights to blur into smears of color, and for her thoughts to turn sluggish.

He'd put something in her drink.

She tried to push away from the bar, but her legs wouldn't cooperate. Gabriel's hand closed around her arm, steadying her with a grip that felt less like support and more like restraint.

"Easy there," he murmured. "You've had a bit too much to drink. Let me help you outside for some fresh air."

"No—" The word came out slurred, barely audible over the pounding music. "My friends—"

"Your friends will be fine. You need some air."

She tried to resist, tried to pull away, but her body was shutting down. The last thing she saw before the darkness claimed her was Gabriel's smile, cold and satisfied.