Chapter Twenty
Darcy
And you’re okay? Really?”
I smile at Nate while I sip at my pina colada.
It’s more pineapple juice than rum, with three cherries for garnish and an orange slice roughly the size of my face.
But Gabriel had slid it across the bar with a no-nonsense look, muttering something under his breath about reducing inflammation, so I’m trying not to complain.
“I’m fine. I promise. It looked worse than it was.”
Nate frowns, adjusting his glasses. “It looked pretty bad.”
He’s asked the same question in fifteen different variations since I sat down at the bar a half hour ago. I know Gabriel encouraged Frank and Nate to let it go, infusing the demand with a bit of his Guardian compulsion, but Nate seems motivated enough to battle through the magic.
“It was just a few scrapes,” I assure him. “Gabriel took good care of me.”
Gabriel’s been taking good care of me. He’s channeling his frustration and anxiety into homemade chicken soup and smoothies.
After the jarring news of Gideon’s reappearance, he quickly ushered me back upstairs, wrapped me in a blanket, and made me watch some home gardening show while Tater Tot took a nap half draped in my lap.
Another cherry appears in the top of my drink as he slips by for the third time, a wink thrown over his shoulder while he leans across the bar to hear an order from an older man in a backward Orioles hat.
“The bar is crowded tonight,” I tell Nate, sipping through my straw. “I don’t think I’ve seen this many people in here before.”
Every table is occupied. Gabriel drifts up and down the bar, taking orders and filling them before a new wave replaces the last. I don’t think we’ve exchanged more than a handful of words since he opened the bar an hour ago.
“It’s always like this the Friday before Halloween.” Nate shrugs. “There are a couple of big pub crawls around town, but Gabe doesn’t participate.”
Now the woman in the bee suit makes sense. I study the room again, and notice there are plenty of people in costume, scattered throughout the crowd. A pirate, a ghost, a Christmas tree in the corner. I don’t know how I didn’t notice sooner.
“Gabe says it’s bad enough that Halloween exists. He’s not going to put food coloring in vodka and call it witch’s brew.”
I snort. “Why am I not surprised?”
“The man seems philosophically opposed to fun.”
“I don’t know,” I muse, thinking about the boat. The dock. The lighthouse. The way he pressed me up against the window and kissed me until I couldn’t think of anything but him. “I think he can be fun.”
Nate snorts. “Should I tell you about the time he—”
I let my attention drift over the crowd in the bar as Nate mindlessly chatters next to me.
He says Gabriel doesn’t like Halloween, but there are rogue strings of garland half-heartedly strung across the ceiling beams. A pumpkin, next to the jukebox that’s been playing “Benny and the Jets” on loop tonight.
I squint at the display and wonder if that’s a choice, or a mistake.
But my view is obstructed by a tall, dark figure.
Leaning up against the jukebox is a man in an all-black costume, a Jack Skellington mask pushed to the top of his head. I study his features, an itch at the very back of my mind. Blond hair. A too-wide smile. He looks like … Brad.
But Brad doesn’t have clearance to leave the department. Brad is still a Ferryman. Ferrymen can’t leave unless—
His blue eyes lift and scan the room quickly before focusing back on the woman in front of him with a warm smile. It’s a blink-and-you-miss-it moment, but I clock it.
It’s almost as if he was—like he was looking for someone.
My magic flickers to life, curling in the palms of my hands. I turn away quickly and slip closer to the bar, trying to hide behind Nate.
“—then he kicked them all out and made them scrub the steps with toothbrushes for, like, two hours— Whoa.” He grips my arm, holding me steady. “What’s going on?”
I shake my head, trying to make myself seem smaller. My magic is thrumming now, pounding through my bloodstream in warning.
Brad is here. Brad is here and I think he’s been sent for me.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” I try my best to smile. “I just think I see someone over in the corner that I used to know.”
Nate, bless him, turns on his stool and uses more of his body to block mine. “A bad someone?”
“Someone I don’t want to see,” I answer.
Nate nods, a serious look on his usually playful face. “I’m going to stand up in a minute, and you’re going to go to the back, okay?”
I nod. “Okay.”
“And once you’re in the back, I’ll let Gabe know.”
I nod again, slipping off the stool. My whole body is trembling like a leaf. I can’t believe they’ve sent a Ferryman to find me. I can’t believe they sent Brad.
“Okay,” I agree. “Thank you.”
Nate turns in one direction, and I turn in the other, careful to keep my back turned to the other side of the room. I hold tight to my magic. The last thing I need is to shatter every glass in this place when there’s a target on my back.
I slip down the hallway and breathe a sigh of relief. Back here, in the shadows, I feel safer. Especially when I see Gabriel’s silhouette appear in the narrow entrance, his big body striding toward mine.
“It’s okay,” I tell him, reading the tight lines of his face. “I’m fine, I just saw someone, and I think—”
“Yeah. I saw him, too.” Gabriel keeps walking, forcing me backward down the hallway. I almost stumble, but he grabs my hip. “He was walking in this direction. C’mere.”
“What are you—”
Gabriel slips his hand down to the curve of my thigh and uses his grip to hitch my body against his without slowing down. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his hips as he marches us backward, hiding us both in the shadows.
“We’re just two people,” he says against my temple, his scruff scraping against my skin. “Looking for a corner to disappear into.”
I peek over his shoulder at the bar. “Do you think he’ll come back here?”
“If he does, he’ll just find two people making out and move on.”
My stomach swoops. “Making out, huh? Is that what we’re doing?”
“It’s what I’m trying to make it look like we’re doing.” Gabriel shifts me higher against his torso, his hand firmly under the curve of my ass. He finds a spot he likes in the back corner and tucks us there. I watch the entrance, but no one comes down.
“Darcy. Relax.”
“I am as relaxed as I can be.”
His palm sweeps up my spine and down again. “You need to look like you’re enjoying yourself.” On the next upward sweep, his fingers fist in my hair. “Moan a little bit.”
I make an uninspired sound and Gabriel snorts. “I know that’s not what you sound like when you’re enjoying yourself.”
I bury my face in his shoulder, my hands gripping his sides. I think about the way he kissed me in the lighthouse—how his teeth felt bared against my skin—and let out a small, breathy sound.
“Yeah,” he says, and his voice sounds rougher. “That’s better.”
We settle into the quiet, Gabriel shifting me incrementally until I’m snug beneath his body. It’s oddly comfortable, being held like this. But my thoughts are spinning a mile a minute, a relentless chase around an endless track.
“How do you think he found me?” I whisper.
“I don’t know. Did he follow your magic?”
I shake my head. “Ferrymen can’t sense power. They can barely wield it. If he’s here, it’s because he was sent.”
Gabriel hums. “I assume this is what Rafe came to warn me about.”
Panic claws its way up my chest. “Do you think Gideon is here? That he’s come for me?” I’ve said I’m fine with whatever consequences are heading my way, but now that I’m faced with them, I’m—I’m afraid. “What if he’s sending Ferrymen out to—”
“Darcy.” Gabriel squeezes the back of my neck again. “Relax. I’m gonna keep you close, all right? Nothing is going to happen.”
“But—”
“I’m not going to let anything happen.”
I’m grateful he’s holding me up against this wall. His presence in front of me feels like a shield. Especially when I see someone else slip down the hall. Someone with a Jack Skellington mask.
“Gabriel,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says. His body is tense against mine. “Just relax. He’ll move on.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Then we’ll handle it.”
I grip the front of his T-shirt, my hands in fists. “What if—”
“For fuck’s sake,” Gabriel mutters, and then he kisses me.
It starts patient, distracted, his mouth barely brushing mine as he rearranges me underneath him so more of me is covered by more of him.
He lets my body slide down against his until I have one foot on the floor, the other still tucked at his side, his big shoulders curved over me as our mouths meet again and again.
I keep my palms against his chest, my arms tucked into my sides, hiding as much of myself as possible.
But then the footsteps wander closer, and Gabriel becomes determined.
Possessive.
Focused.
He works his mouth against mine like it’s the only outlet for his aggression.
It quickly goes from performative to persuasive, Gabriel reassuring me with every slant of his mouth against mine.
I’ve got you. He squeezes my ass. I’ ll keep you safe.
I arch my back, and he gently collars my throat with his hand, his fingers spread wide, his thumb running up and down the side of my neck. No one is going to touch you but me.
He holds me firmly, but carefully, handling me like a fine piece of china. Like even if I do break, he’d put me back together into something different, better, more beautiful.
Someone clears their throat behind us, and Gabriel goes rigid.
“Fuck off,” he snaps, turning to look over his shoulder.
I tuck my face to the space between his collarbones, pressing a wet, sucking kiss to his neck.
My panic is manifesting into trying to make this the performance of a lifetime.
Gabriel grinds out a rough sound and holds the back of my head, his fingers fisting in my hair.
It tugs a little bit, and a shiver rockets down my spine.
“Didn’t you hear me, asshole? Get lost.”