Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
GABE
Istare at my phone, propped up against a bowl of fruit on my table.
I’ve never felt this anxious waiting for a call to connect.
Beside me, Connor fidgets. He’s still supremely unhappy about this.
And, honestly, with Marc sitting on my porch, mere feet away, I get it.
I don’t want my baby brother anywhere near a higher demon, ever.
But the boys are both twenty-one now, and in less than a year they’ll be graduating and finalizing their hunter training.
At their age, Connor was already working full-time as a hunter.
I wasn’t, because being a gatekeeper gives me a little more leeway to do things like study.
Con and I both fought hard to allow the boys to go to college and get a little more experience of the world outside the Collective.
Regardless, they’re both dedicated to the cause, and that’s going to put them in contact with demons trying to kill them. We can’t shelter them forever.
Finally, the call connects, and my brother’s sleepy face appears on the screen. “What the fuck, Gabe? It’s not even six thirty yet.”
Oops. I forgot about that. “Yeah, sorry, but you gotta wake up. Is Ian there?”
“Dude, I don’t have class until ten today. This is my morning to sleep in. Do you know how hard it is to sleep in when every fucking professor is in love with eight o’clock classes?”
“Matt, shut up. Is Ian there?”
He blinks, and then his gaze becomes laser-focused, all sleepiness gone. I hardly ever talk to him in that tone. “Yeah, he’s here. What’s wrong?”
“Wake him up,” Connor says, and Matt doesn’t waste time asking more questions, just puts down the phone and disappears. I can’t help thinking that his ability to switch gears like that is going to make him a great hunter one day.
We listen to him waking Ian, who swears a whole lot about it until Matt says quietly, “Something’s happened.
” A few seconds later, both boys are back in the frame, Ian rubbing his eyes.
I look at their solemn faces and bed head, picking out the resemblances to me and Con, and mentally curse our parents.
“What’s wrong?” Ian says, his usual irreverence missing.
“We’ve bought you both tickets on the four o’clock flight to Chicago this afternoon. Pack what you need and make sure you’re on it,” Connor orders. I hide a wince. That’s probably not the best way to start.
“What the fuck?” Ian demands, even as Matt declares, “Fuck, no.” Should we have been stricter with them about swearing? It just seemed hypocritical to tell them not to say things that Con and I say. Plus, they’re adults now. I don’t think we get a vote.
“You want me to get on a plane?” Ian’s ranting. “I don’t fucking think so.”
Shit, I forgot how airsick he gets. “Guys, listen,” I interject before they can get too riled up.
“This is important. There’s some stuff going on that we don’t want to talk about over the phone.
Please pack what you need, probably for a couple weeks, and fly out here.
We’ll explain everything when you arrive. ”
“A couple weeks?” Matt says incredulously. “Gabe, no way. School’s just started. We can’t miss that much class.”
“I’ll call the school and tell them there’s a family emergency,” Connor snaps. I put a hand on his forearm and squeeze, and he takes a deep breath. “Just… please. Please.”
The boys go silent and watch us through the screen. “What’s going on?” Ian asks, his tone completely different. Almost verging on afraid. Connor doesn’t say please all that often. It’s a character defect.
“It’s a really long story. You know how there’s been some weird stuff happening here at Mannix?” We’ve talked to them about some of the details over the past year.
“Sure. The hidden gateway,” Matt says.
“Yeah. Well, it’s a lot more complicated than that.
We’re… You… There’s a chance that you might not be safe at school.
We don’t like that you’re there with no backup, and we don’t like that all the other students are potentially at risk too.
It’s better for everyone if you come here while we’re working this out. ”
Matt shakes his head slowly. “Why do we have to come there? Can’t we just go home to the comp—”
“No!” Connor and I shout in unison, and Ian’s eyes go wide. Matt swallows.
“We could use your help here,” I add hastily, trying to do damage control, but it’s too late.
“We can’t go back to the compound? What the fuck is going on? One of you tell us right now.” Ian’s voice is a little shaky, but he speaks firmly enough.
I side-eye Connor. How do we handle this without dropping everything on them during a phone call?
“Do you trust us?” he asks abruptly. The boys look shocked.
“What? Con—”
“Do. You. Trust. Us?”
They exchange glances. “Of course,” Matt says. “More than anyone else.”
I seize on the opening. “Then please be on that plane. Please. We’ll tell you everything when you get here.
On the car ride from the airport, even.” Chicago is at least a two-and-a-half-hour drive from here.
They’ll have plenty of time to hear it all and ask questions.
“Just pack your stuff and get on the plane. And…” I swallow hard. “…you can’t tell anyone you’re going.”
“What? Gabe, people will notice we’re missing. Our friends will call the cops or something,” Ian says.
“No, your friends at school are fine. Tell them you’ve got a family emergency. But you can’t tell anyone from the Collective. You can’t tell our parents.”
Dead, disbelieving silence. For the first time since this call began, I wonder if this might be too much for them.
Finally, Matt says, “I can’t even remember the last time I talked to them, anyway.” He looks straight into the camera. “Okay, we’ll come.”
“But can’t we drive?” Ian adds plaintively. He looks a little green just at the thought of flying. Connor and I exchange glances, but he’s the one who answers.
“I’d feel better if you were here sooner. And you’d be more at risk driving across the country for two days than you would be flying. I’m sorry, Ian, but—”
“Fine. It’s fine. We’ll see you tonight.”
“See you tonight,” Connor echoes while I concentrate on not crying in relief.
The call ends, and I sag in the chair. “Fuck.”
Con pats my shoulder as he gets up to stretch. “They’re coming. It’s going to be fine.”
I rub my hands over my face. Fine. Sure. Like this was the hardest part. “Yeah. What time does their plane land?”
“After ten. I wanted to get an earlier flight, but most of them were full. This one and the 8:00 a.m. flight were the only ones with seats available.”
There’s no chance the boys could have gotten to the airport in time for the earlier flight. “That’s fine. It’ll give us the day to organize things here before we go.”
Connor bites his lip. “Should we both go? Maybe one of us should stay here. I know it’s only six hours or whatever, but with Marc coming and going…”
Dammit, he’s right.
“You go. I should be working on how the fuck I’m going to rebuild the barrier anyway.” Because that’s going to be such an easy task.
Connor makes a face. “I don’t know… I’m probably not going to tell it right.”
My laugh surprises us both. “You’re not going to tell it right? Jesus, Con, just tell it exactly like it happened.”
He still looks unsure, but he doesn’t say anything else as I swipe up my phone and head to the door. We told Marc to go sit outside about ten minutes ago, and I don’t love the idea of him being unsupervised when visitors start wandering around the estate.
Holy crap, I can’t believe this is real. I’ve dedicated most of my life to keeping demons away from people, and now I’m sitting idly by while one of the most dangerous hangs out at a tourist destination.
I yank the door open and stop, surprised to see Tom standing on the porch with a bakery box in his hands. The morning sun is behind him, haloing him like he’s my own personal gift from heaven. “Oh. Hi.”
“Hey,” he replies, smiling warmly at me. Then his eyes go over my shoulder, and I feel bereft. “Hi, Connor. I brought breakfast.”
“Cinnamon twists?” Con asks hopefully, nudging me out of the way so he can get to the baked goods.
“Pretty sure there are some in there. If not, there were definitely some in the other box. It’s in the office.” He watches in amused awe as Connor gets the box open and a cinnamon twist out before he’s even finished talking.
I turn to study Marc, who’s lounging in my favorite outdoor chair as though he owns it. He’s wearing another suit today, this one a medium-gray color. I’m a hundred percent certain he heard everything Connor and I said to the boys, but there’s really no way to avoid that.
“If you want to blend in, you need to dress more appropriately,” I tell him. “People are going to notice you if you wear a suit on a farm.”
He sniffs. “I couldn’t blend in if I tried. Some of us are noticed wherever we go.”
Uh-huh. Well, that clarifies it: even if he wasn’t a demon, he’d still be a dick.
“Yeah, that’s great. Try a different outfit anyway.”
Sighing as though I’ve asked him something horrendous, he pops out.
I barely have time to notice he’s gone before he’s back, dressed in chinos, a short-sleeved shirt open at the collar, and loafers.
He still looks out of place on the farm, but we do sometimes get tourists dressed that way. “Better, thanks.”
He glances distastefully down at his clothes. “If you say so.”
Great. The demon is a fashion snob. Definitely not on this year’s bingo card.
“Have a pastry,” Tom says, laughter in his voice as he offers me the box he somehow got back from Connor. “It’ll help.”
I gratefully take a bear claw. “Thanks. This was nice of you.” My gaze meets his, and then, horrifyingly, I feel my face get hot. Oh my god, am I blushing? Why?
Taking a step back, I half turn away, trying not to seem weird and awkward… and probably failing. Connor’s staring at me, his mouth open, cinnamon twist halfway there for another bite. Oh no.
Shoving my pastry into my mouth, I glare at him, hoping that for once in his life he’ll shut up. Not that there’s anything to say. I took a pastry and said “thank you.” Big deal.
“Marc, remember what Kieran said last night,” Connor says, focusing his attention on the demon, and I thank all the gods in all the heavens. “You can’t do anything that would give away what you are. Next time you need to leave, go inside where you’re out of sight.”
“There’s nobody here, little hunter,” Marc says, studying his nails. With the amount of attention he gives his manicure, I’m fairly sure he’s never done any manual labor.
“You couldn’t know that for sure when you were coming back,” Con argues.
“Just do it.” Marc says nothing, and Connor seems to take that as agreement.
“Great. So we need to talk more about what Gabe’s going to need to do and how.
Do we need to get him some help? And then I want to spar with Tom for a bit, now that I know he’s been holding out on me.
Dude, I really could have used another sparring partner. Gabe’s always busy.”
Tom shrugs good-naturedly. “Nobody told me.” He grins in my direction, inviting me to share the joke, but I look away. I don’t want to risk another blush.
“And tonight Gabe’s going to Chicago to pick up our brothers. Do you mind going with him, Tom? I’d feel better if there was another fighter with them on the drive back.”
Son of a fucking bitch!
As Tom agrees that sure, he’d be happy to tag along, I glare at Connor, who’s smiling smugly and avoiding my gaze, and wonder how many years I’d get in prison for murdering my best friend.