Chapter Twenty-Four
Darcy
I wake up to sunlight warming my face, a heavy arm slung over my hip and a leg tossed over both of mine. I am cradled carefully in the shelter of Gabriel, his body burning like a furnace behind mine.
“You awake?” he slurs as I wiggle in his hold, stretching the one part of my body that has managed to escape his python-like grip.
I yawn, my jaw cracking. “Mmph,” I answer.
He snickers, a warm puff of air against the back of my neck. “Are you conscious?” he amends.
“Barely.”
I feel like I’ve been pulled apart like taffy, sore down to my bones. I don’t know if it’s an aftereffect of my magic or his, but either way, I’m hurting.
Gabriel loosens his arm just enough for me to turn, lifting so I can flop on my back, half of my hair in my face.
He cups my rib cage as I settle, his thumb dancing over each individual bone like he’s trying to catalog the shape of me to memory.
He gives me a slow, sleepy smile, his curls a wild halo on the top of his head.
With the sunlight streaming in through the window and painting everything gold, he looks every inch the Guardian he is.
“Feel like shit,” he mumbles before letting his eyes slip shut again. I trace the brand-new purple and blue circles under his left eye, frowning.
“Yeah, I bet. I poured a bunch of death magic into you.”
His lips twitch into a frown. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Blame yourself.” He snuggles closer, burying his face in my neck. “I knew what I was doing.”
“You had no idea what you were doing. That was all bravado and poor decision-making.”
He hums to himself, pleased. “It worked, though. Didn’t it?”
“It did,” I agree. But at what cost? I have no idea what I handed over to him last night. I have no idea what he gave back. I trail my fingertips over the planes of his face, down the slope of his neck, over his shoulder and down his arm.
“Hey. Your sword is gone.” I rub my thumb over the bare skin between his wrist and elbow.
“Left it in the hallway,” he slurs. “I’ll get it later.”
“Want me to go grab it?”
He heaves a long-suffering sigh, annoyed that I’m hell-bent on having a conversation while he’s trying to hold on to his sleep. “I don’t know, Darcy. Do I need my sword right now?”
I drop my head back to the pillow, buzzy and anxious. This is my post-magic comedown, and I feel restless. Eager for something to do. Gabriel cups the back of my head and rubs the base of my skull with his fingertips, firm strokes that have me melting like butter against him.
“What’s going on?” he rumbles.
“Nothing.”
“You want to talk about yesterday?” He pauses. “I saw Frank, and he said—”
“That I ruined his life?”
“Not quite.”
I sigh. “Frank recognized me. I was the one to take his wife and daughter from him.”
Gabriel makes a low sound of surprise. I flinch.
“Daughter?” he asks.
I nod. “It was a car accident, almost forty years ago if my math is right. He was hurt, too. But I couldn’t take him with us. It wasn’t his time.”
Gabriel leans back so he can look at me. “You didn’t make that choice.”
“It doesn’t matter, though, does it?” My eyes burn, the tips of my fingers numb. “I was the one to take them away from him.”
Gabriel grips my chin. “It wasn’t you,” he says again. “You were doing your job.”
“Yeah, well. My job sucks.”
His eyes soften, and he drops his head back down against the pillow. Exhaustion rolls off him in waves, and guilt pricks at me again.
I should have been able to control my magic last night. What if it sinks into him and corrupts all the good, soft parts? What if it hurts him? What if they take his wings because he helped a Reaper?
What if I’m his third strike?
I thought I could outrun what I am, but I can’t. I’ve been jumping into rivers and carving pumpkins and making flower arrangements while putting everyone around me in danger. I’m not meant for a slow, simple life. I already had one. What I am now belongs to the department.
I’m delaying the inevitable by staying here and playing house with a man I have no future with. Gideon won’t stop until he has me. I know that. The longer I delay, the worse it will hurt the both of us.
“I can hear you catastrophizing,” Gabriel mutters with his forehead between my breasts.
“Of course you can.” I try to lighten my voice. Tease him, like everything is normal. “You’re using me as a pillow.”
He hums, satisfied. “Gonna stay here, too.”
I wish he would. I wish we could.
I drag my nails through his hair. “Go back to sleep. We’ll talk more when you wake up.”
“You’re being too nice.”
“I’m always nice.” I rub my thumb over the tip of his ear. To the space just behind it. “Go to sleep, Gabriel.”
“All right,” he slurs, his breathing already slow and even. His arm tightens against my middle and then relaxes.
I wait to leave until I’m sure he’s asleep.
It’s surprisingly easy to track down Brad.
If he’s been trying to be covert, then he’s doing a poor job of it.
I find him sitting on a bench in front of the ice cream shop with a monstrosity of a cone in his left hand covered in rainbow sprinkles.
He beams when he sees me, waving enthusiastically like a toddler greeting his favorite playmate.
“Darcy! Hey!”
I stop and frown, then lift my hand in a more subdued greeting. The last time I saw Brad, he was trying to con his way in front of the tree. I assume that if he’s here, he’s hoping to turn me in for some sort of favor with Gideon. Maybe even a promotion.
But right now, he’s not showing any urgency. There’s no obvious threat in his expression or body language. He’s just a man enjoying an ice cream cone on a street bench.
He gestures me over, and I look both ways before crossing the street, not eager to involve myself in another accident. I take the seat next to him and frown at the absurdity of it all.
“Hey, Darcy.”
“Hello, Brad.”
“You want some ice cream?” He holds the cone out in front of my face.
“No,” I answer slowly. “I would not like any ice cream.”
He shrugs. “Your loss, but okay.”
I wait for him to start issuing threats, but he just smiles dopily at me. Sprinkles cling to the curve of his chin.
“Brad,” I finally say, mustering my patience along with a healthy dose of skepticism. “Have you been looking for me?”
Brad takes another bite, a glob of smooth orange falling onto his perfectly pressed chino pants. “Oh, shit.” He laughs, trying to mop it up with a wrinkled napkin he pulls out of his pocket. “Yeah. I have been looking for you. What are the odds you found me first?”
He shakes his head with a chuckle.
“Yeah, it’s funny.” I shift on the bench. “How did you know I was here?”
He shrugs. “Gideon said he tracked your magic to a couple of different places.”
Aelia, I think to myself. She said she would buy me some time. I wonder where else she’s laid her traps, and how she’s faring because of it.
“He told me if I found you, I’d get rewarded and—are you sure you don’t want some of this ice cream? It’s pumpkin spice.”
I fold my hands in my lap and urge my magic to settle. I don’t need to zap Brad to kingdom come because I’m impatient. I’ve had enough incidents for several lifetimes. “I’m sure, Brad. What was the reward you were promised?”
“I don’t know. Gideon wasn’t very specific, but I’m hoping I’ll be promoted to Reaper.” He puffs out his chest. “You think we’ll get to work together?”
“I doubt it.” I can’t work if I’m chained in some basement office of the department for the rest of eternity. Brad gives me a wounded look. I sigh. “I’m not exactly a departmental favorite right now, Brad.”
“Yeah, fair.” He finishes his cone and brushes his hands on his pants, sending rainbow-colored crumbs in every direction. “Well, you won’t have to worry for too long. Gideon should be here any minute.”
My stomach lurches. “What?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an ornate watch with a long gold chain. He flicks it open, then closes it with a snap.
“I got one of these from him. He said if I saw you, all I had to do was open and close the case. I’ve been doing it since you came over.” Open and closed. Open and closed. Open and closed. “He said I’d need to do it just once, but you can never be too—”
“Once was quite enough, thank you.”
Someone grabs the watch out of Brad’s hand, sliding it deftly into the front pocket of a perfectly tailored gray wool suit. A man stands in front of us, backlit by the sun. I try to get a look at his face, but I can’t make out any of his features.
I can see only that he’s tall, impatient, and seemingly has an affinity for high-end menswear.
And that his magic feels like the press of a very sharp knife, right at the softest part of my neck.
“Bradley, I suggest you find somewhere else to be.”
“Where should I—”
The man sighs, one elegant hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I don’t care. Not here.” He flicks his fingers. “Be gone.”
Brad stumbles over his own feet as he lurches from the bench, starting one way down the street only to turn around halfway and speed-walk the other. The man in the wool suit and I watch him wordlessly.
“I do believe I made a mistake,” he says, his deep voice aggrieved. “Allowing that one out of his cage.”
There’s an accent there, somewhere. Something vaguely British. Aristocratic. He moves to sit in the space Brad just vacated, crossing his ankle over his knee as he settles.
He has a lollipop hanging out of his mouth. Clubmaster sunglasses with a tortoiseshell pattern and opaque lenses that hide his eyes. His hair is so blond it almost looks white in the autumn sun, combed neatly back over his forehead and around his ears.
I’ve never seen someone belong somewhere less.
He turns toward me and I can feel myself being weighed and measured through the lenses of his glasses. He pulls the candy from his mouth and arches a brow, a devastating smile curling one side of his mouth.
“You seem surprised.”
I have to swallow twice before I can manage any words at all. “I am.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t expect you to be so …” I debate my options. Normal. Ordinary. Well-dressed. “Handsome,” I finally decide.