Chapter Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Seven
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened.
Antoine braced himself, not sure what to expect. Gabriel himself? An army of thralls?
But there was only one, and he bowed. “This way please, sir.”
The entrance hall wasn’t to his taste; too much marble and gold, like something befitting a Roman temple. But the thrall showed him into a room of modern chic: hardwood, scatter rugs, three cream sofas, and a wall dedicated to an LP collection.
The man himself lay on his weight bench, the barbell loaded with more plates than looked practical. He wore only a pair of shorts, and his skin gleamed with sweat. He noticed Antoine and gave a deliberate flex, a ripple of muscle that drew the eye.
“Is that effective?” Antoine asked.
“Not so much of late.” Gabe lifted the bar for the last time and set it on its rack, then sat up, his gaze running over Antoine in quick assessment, lingering a heartbeat too long his face, as though reassuring himself he was truly standing there.
“Welcome back, my friend. I’d clasp your arm, but I need a shower first. How are you feeling? Fully recovered?”
“Getting by.” Antoine wasn’t sure what reception he would receive, but if this was an act, it was a convincing one. Where was the standard greeting? He kept his expression neutral. “Your trust is met with solemn commitment.”
Gabe waved it away. “We don’t need that between friends, do we? It’s at times like this that I miss human customs.” He rose, picking up a towel and hanging it around his shoulders, using the end of it to mop his face. “I feel like offering you a beer. We can’t exactly share a chattel, can we?”
“Not on cream sofas, no.” It was a neat sidestep of their customs. Was the omission some kind of inferred threat, or was he as genuine as he appeared? “I gather my stay as the ocean’s guest was shortened considerably due to your efforts.”
“You would’ve done the same for me. I’m only sorry that it took so long.” Gabriel’s face clouded. “My friend, there is something I need to tell you. Something I need to… beg your forgiveness for.”
That was the last thing Antoine expected. “Oh?”
“Eight days ago, while you were… sleeping with the fishes”—despite his serious demeanor, Gabe allowed a teasing grin—“Cally came to me. She told me an unbelievable story that she is a witch, and you both have formed a bond.”
“She did, huh?”
“She asked me to feed from her, Antoine. Eve was there, too—lovely girl. They both said it was a matter of life or death.” Gabe straightened his back, his chin coming up. “I would never have touched her had they not demanded it. I swear, I took only what was needed, and no more.”
Antoine watched him, thoughts churning. He believed Gabe had been treacherous, until first Cally then Belle robbed him of that notion.
He thought Gabe capable of forcing himself on Cally, until she made it clear that she’d begged for the resistance to fight Minh.
He had a legitimate claim on Antoine’s territory, courtesy of Leonard granting it to him, and he hadn’t even mentioned it.
Instead, the first thing Gabe had offered was an apology, his guilt clearly weighing on him.
Antoine wanted to blame him, to hold on to his anger and resentment and use Gabe as its target. But the truth was that if Gabe hadn’t fed on Cally, it would have been Belle.
Or she would be dead.
Maybe she didn’t need him to feed at all. Maybe she would’ve survived if he hadn’t.
Eight days, Gabe said. That meant Sunday… two weeks after his entombment.
Around the limit of even his resistance to the thirst, and Antoine was under no illusions vampires who fed more regularly than he would not have lasted even that.
Given the vampiric-witch bond, the timing could easily be similar. If anything, she’d left it too long. If Gabe hadn’t fed, it could’ve been that very night that her power consumed her.
Gabe watched him, eyes growing more haunted, as if waiting for him to erupt in rage.
What did he see pass across my face?
Yet he stood there, making no move to ready himself for a fight. As if accepting of any judgement Antoine chose to deliver.
And it was that, more than anything, which once more kindled the trust.
“Yes, she told me,” Antoine said at last, the words difficult but necessary, half-catching in his throat. “I have to thank you for that, too.”
Gabe’s head tipped back, half an inch of disbelief. “Thank me?”
“Cally did not exaggerate. Had you not, she may well now be dead. So yes, as you may have saved her life, I believe gratitude is warranted.” Those words were a lot easier to say.
And they were true. They would never know if it were necessary or not, but Gabe did what was asked—even against his will—and Cally was alive. That was what mattered.
But it wasn’t the end of it. Antoine straightened his shoulders. “And now, it seems I owe you an apology.”
“Oh? Whatever for?”
For doubting you. But that one he would simply keep his secret. “For the risk you were forced to take. I gather you have fed twice on Cally now.”
“Yes.” His demeanor stiffened again. “The other time was—”
Antoine held up a hand, forestalling him.
“I know those circumstances too, and I’m grateful you conveyed the resistance.
But I was referring to the bond that might form between vampire and witch, as it has between Cally and me.
You risked your… freedom, I suppose one might say, and you did so to help her.
To help me. I am sorry that this was necessary. ”
Gabe turned away, flicking off his towel and picking up a T-shirt in its stead. “Cally mentioned a bond, and used the word ‘addiction,’” he said as he pulled it on. “What did she mean?”
I’ve already said too much. Can I trust him?
But it was too late for doubts. He’d been wrong; Gabe was a friend.
Time to see exactly how far that goes.
“When a vampire feeds from a witch, a symbiotic bond is formed. They become mutually dependent. Do you remember how I said Minh’s spawns tasted like shit?”
“Yes. I found it puzzling at the time.”
“That’s the effect. I could still take power from spawns—from Minh. But I cannot sate the hunger with normal chattel.”
“No wonder that chattel on the ship…” Gabe murmured, half to himself.
“What chattel?”
“Oh, I brought one along. Cally told me not to, and I’m afraid I ignored her.
” He grimaced. “I thought it would help, at least some, but it didn’t work at all.
Now I understand what she was trying to tell me.
” He cocked his head to one side. “Are there benefits to this bond? Other than her being able to track you?”
“Yes,” Antoine said carefully.
“Power, huh?” Gabe nodded, his gaze lingering in open admiration.
“I saw you fight Jorge off. That was… fun to watch.” Admiration shifted into something more intense, before he looked away with a nonchalance that felt a touch deliberate.
“I figured that Minh’s blood had boosted you, but that wasn’t it, was it? ”
“No.” And now what, my ‘friend’? Is this where you fight me for Cally? “Or not only that,” he added, in subtle reminder that he had both Minh’s blood and Cally’s.
“Another reason to owe you,” Gabe said with an easy smile.
“My own little power boost.” He gestured at his weight set.
“It cost me a small fortune to upgrade that lot to tungsten, but since I fed on Minh’s spawns, the old set was pointless.
” He shrugged his large shoulders. “Even this new one is too light.”
“How much stronger are you?”
“About twenty percent, I figure. You?”
“I haven’t measured. I don’t own any weights.”
“Well, I’m glad she’s safe,” Gabe said. “Glad it was worth it.”
Here it comes. “Meaning?”
“Meaning, I may have begun your journey, my friend. My craving can still be met by chattel, but they taste of nothing. I figured it was just me; now I know better.” He walked to one of the sofas and slumped into a seat. “Will it get worse?”
“I don’t know, truth be told. I’m sorry the blood isn’t so fulfilling.” Antoine meant it. That was like losing a sense to a vampire.
“Well, let’s hope not. Because if it does, I’m screwed, aren’t I?
” Gabe looked up at him, eyes haunted. “If it gets worse and I can no longer sate the craving, will you put me out of my misery before I turn feral?” His voice fell quiet, the words strangely personal.
“There’s no one else I’d trust with such a task.
No one else I’d…” He stopped himself, jaw tightening.
“It won’t come to that,” Antoine said quickly, surprised he’d asked. And horrified. And touched. “We will find a solution before then.” With Belle’s witches all over Boston.
“Thank you. Your support means a lot.” Gabe looked unconvinced. His eyes lingered on Antoine’s face a moment longer than expected, as though committing the details to memory before he glanced away.
He hasn’t even suggested sharing Cally.
“There are always solutions. Let me do some digging. Just keep me updated if there are any changes. Don’t leave it until we’re running out of time.”
“You got it.” His grin wasn’t as vibrant as usual.
“Then I’ll leave you to it.” Antoine gave him a final nod. “Stay in the shadows.”
“You too.”
He headed for the door, but Gabe spoke again, softer and without his usual bravado. “I’m really glad you’re back. I… missed you.”
Antoine paused. “I don’t have many friends.”
“Friends,” Gabe repeated quietly. “Yes.” Something flickered in his eyes before he grinned, warmer than before. “My door’s always open. Let’s not wait weeks next time, eh?” He cleared his throat and offered a crooked smile, “Besides, I miss Cally too.”
“Right,” Antoine said slowly. “I’ll pass that on.”