24 #2
“No idea. Emeric thinks the Regiment must have quietly caught and killed him ages ago. They’re always looking out for signs: sinners in amnesia-like states, reports of beautiful people acting suspiciously in a place criminals are known to frequent…
That kind of thing.” She laughs. Then, as if she hasn’t just kicked my world off its axis, Ceri leaps to her feet and beckons with a flick of her wrist. “Come on. I’ll give you that tour. ”
I feel slightly stunned, but I rise to follow.
During the day, the house is alight in shades of mahogany and gold, the black-trimmed windows framing views of the isolated property I’d glimpsed last night.
As we make our way to the other side of the house, I pause by a detailed painting of two young men facing each other.
One is silhouetted by shadows, the other by sunlight.
Both are portrayed as unnaturally beautiful.
“The Savior and the devil,” Ceri says, turning when she hears my footsteps slow. “Emeric loves the story. I painted it for him.”
“You painted this?” I lift a hand as if to trace the careful brushstrokes, my fingers inches from the frame, then let it drop. “Are you…believers?”
Ceri chuckles. “Emeric believes in the Savior as a force of good in the world. An idea to hold onto when you need something bigger than yourself. Nothing like what the Regiment tries to peddle.”
“And you?”
Her attention is on the painting, the curve of her mouth soft. “I don’t think I care either way.”
“You don’t care?”
She shrugs. “I’m not going to mold my life around something I can’t prove.”
“I wish I didn’t care,” I mutter, startling myself by being honest. “I think I’m too angry not to.”
Ceri doesn’t ask me to elaborate. Instead, she leads me to a set of glass doors that open onto a wide stone patio.
The day is unseasonably warm and bright, though a gentle breeze carries the lingering scent of rain.
I can see the silhouette of the city in the distance, periodic slashes of gray against the horizon.
“It’s nice,” I say curtly. What I don’t say is that it looks like everything I dreamed of as a child. In the earliest days of our time with the Apostles, I had imagined snatching Ilse up and taking her someplace else. Somewhere isolated but lovely, where the trees didn’t block the infrequent sun.
“It is.” Fabric sways around Ceri’s ankles as she follows my gaze into the distance. “When I first came here, it felt like paradise.”
“Do you regret it?” I ask suddenly, unable to help myself. “Becoming…what you are, I mean.”
She appears to consider a moment. “No,” she decides. “I regret my life was such that I felt it was the only option.”
Now that I can understand.
The silence between us persists for another moment, then Ceri releases a long sigh. Her voice when she speaks again is brisk. “Let’s go back inside. Slade and Emeric should be home any moment.”
I follow her back inside, this time through a glass door that leads into a conservatory. The floor is onyx tile and a casual dining set is pushed up against the wall. Opposite that, on the other side of the room, is a rotary phone. My stomach turns over.
“Oh,” I say haltingly, as if it’s only just occurred to me, “do you mind if I use the phone? I have a friend who will want to know I’m safe. I won’t tell them where I am,” I add at Ceri’s cautious look.
Her expression clears. “Sure. I’ll give you some privacy.”
“Thanks.”
I wait a few minutes after Ceri leaves, laughing inwardly at the idea that anyone would want to know I’m safe, much less a friend.
Then I hunch over the phone and dial Gabriel’s number, my pulse racing beneath my skin.
This feels far too risky. Ceri could decide to return at any moment.
If Slade found out, he would murder me on the spot. But what other choice do I have?
“Get the Prophet,” I mutter to the agent who answers, and he does. Gabriel’s familiar voice crackles through the line a moment later.
“Talin.”
I’m caught off guard by the way he says my name: relieved, almost reverential.
I wipe the palm of my free hand in my lap, frowning when I realize hearing his voice has done something to me too.
The calm familiarity of routine replaces all else, and I might be back in my tiny apartment with my ear pressed to the receiver, waiting for the Prophet’s hard-won praise. “Hi.”
I hear him close a door on the other end of the line. “I’m glad to hear from you. I’ll admit, I didn’t realize how difficult this was going to be.”
“What do you mean?” My voice is barely more than a whisper.
There’s a beat of silence, and then Gabriel says, “I’ve grown accustomed to having you by my side. It feels…unnatural, knowing you’re not within reach. Knowing you’re with him. I don’t care for it.”
I chew on my tongue, wrestling with my own bewilderment. He hasn’t even inquired about what I’ve learned. If I didn’t know any better, I might say he sounds jealous. “It’s definitely strange.”
“Tell me—has it made you change your mind?”
“About what?”
“Leaving me. Freedom, you see, doesn’t always feel the way you expect it to.”
A horrible suspicion worms its way under my skin. My frown deepens. “Did you think I would? Change my mind, I mean.”
“You’re difficult to predict, Talin.” I can imagine Gabriel shrugging, his legs crossed as he reclines in his grand desk chair, his manicured nails drumming a rhythm on his knee. “I did hope though. And I’ll continue to.”
The suspicion turns to a simmering anger.
I glance to the empty doorway without really seeing it, fighting to keep my voice low.
“Was this your plan all along? Let me work alongside your brother, trying to complete a near-impossible task, so that I might decide sinning for you was pretty good in comparison?”
Gabriel sighs. I hate that sigh—it implies I’m overreacting, that I’m foolish, that I’ll never understand things as he does.
“My plan, Talin, is to have you deliver my brother to the Reaches. If you decide to return to me over the course of that task, I’ll be more than pleased to have you in my employ once more. ”
It’s not an answer. I don’t know what I expected. “Fine,” I say through my teeth.
“Did you raise the plan involving Felix Astor? Did my brother go for it?”
“He killed Astor, if that’s what you mean.”
“Excellent.” Gabriel lowers his voice until it’s as soft as mine. “I mean, terrible, of course, but…”
“Terrible,” I echo, keen not to waste time on Astor. “You still haven’t given me the details, by the way, about how you plan to confront your brother. I need to know exactly where and when I’m bringing him.”
“Ah, yes. There’s a small temple in the Reaches known as the Prophet’s Sanctum. It’s generally for my private use, but I’ll be there at midnight Saturday with some colleagues. Send my brother there. And Talin?”
The chosen location sends a jolt through me—I remember Emeric mentioning the sanctum last night. “Yes?”
“Do not accompany him.”
I frown at Gabriel’s harsh insistence. Though I hadn’t planned on it regardless, I can’t help asking, “Why not?”
“It’s not safe.”
He’s lying. I know it even without seeing his face. But why?
There’s no time to ask. I can hear Ceri’s tinkling laugh from the next room and know Slade and Emeric must have returned. “I have to go. I can’t risk getting caught on the phone.”
“Wait,” Gabriel commands. “Slade hasn’t hurt you, has he?”
“No.” I sound sullen. I wish he would is the unhinged follow-up I don’t say aloud, and I’m disgusted with myself. If I could get Slade to slap me, maybe it would knock some sense into my lust-addled brain. “You don’t need to worry.”
“I can’t seem to help myself.” He sighs. “I’m looking forward to putting this behind us, Talin.”
“Me too.”
There’s a click as the line disconnects. For a moment I simply stand there, a sense of unreality crashing over me. If I wasn’t already certain where my allegiances lie, I am now.
Gabriel is going to die.
And then, with Slade’s help, I’m going to live.