CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Gabriel was right there, his face taut. He moved away, releasing me fast.

“I couldn’t get you back,” he said, as if in explanation.

“I know. I was just sitting here and . . .” I inhaled. “It’s over now. I got the whole story.”

“I couldn’t get you back,” he said again, and there was a different note in his voice now, almost angry. “You would not come back. Your temperature kept rising, and you were gone.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I—”

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Olivia,” he said as he stood, snapping his shades back on. “I’m telling you that I could not bring you back. It keeps getting worse, and I don’t know . . . I couldn’t get to you—” He bit off the sentence, and I remembered the fire, the terrible fire between the worlds, Arawn shouting, Gwynn shouting, trapped on their opposite sides, Matilda lost in the middle, screaming, as she burned.

They couldn’t save her. Couldn’t get to her.

Gwynn . . .

I closed my eyes. Gabriel wasn’t Gwynn. Thrust into the role, but not the same person, not bound to the same fate, not feeling the same emotions, the same bonds. I had to remember that. Otherwise . . . well, otherwise, I thought I’d go mad, trying to reconcile it, Matilda and Gwynn, me and Gabriel.

“I think it’s over now,” I said. “I’ve seen it all.”

“And you’ll tell me.”

I hesitated.

“Olivia.”

“Of course.” As much as I can, as much as I dare. “Not here, though. We should go someplace. Maybe . . . Shit! Ricky.” I checked my watch.

“I heard his bike a few minutes ago.”

“He’ll be wondering where I went. Did you text him?”

A cool look. “At the time, I was a little more concerned with snapping you out of a trance state before fever short-circuited your brain.”

I texted, telling Ricky I was out for a walk with Gabriel and heading back now. Then I rose, my knees shaky as I started for the gate.

“We aren’t discussing it, then?” he said.

“Not while Ricky’s waiting with pizza.”

“I should think this is more important than pizza.”

Now I was the one giving him a look. “It is, but he just rode twenty miles to get it for me, and you want me to say I’m too busy to eat it? Or that I’m busy talking to you about things that I can’t tell him . . . when he thinks I’ve told him everything? Unless you want me to tell him everything.”

“Fine. But I expect to speak to you tonight about this.”

I nodded and headed out the gate. We’d just reached the walkway beside my building when I heard Ricky’s voice along with another I recognized.

“Patrick,” Gabriel murmured.

Patrick was, technically I guess, one of the Cainsville elders, though the form he took didn’t look much older than me. That was even more disconcerting, given that he was Gabriel’s father. Not that Gabriel knew that. Rose did, and we’d agreed that was one secret we were keeping for now.

Patrick was a bòcan. A hobgoblin, which didn’t mean some kind of troll-like creature. The best-known example of a hobgoblin is Puck from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which about sums up Patrick.

I hurried down the lane. Ricky kept glancing over Patrick’s shoulder, clearly eager to be gone but not wanting to be rude.

When he caught sight of me, he grinned, pleasure mixed with relief.

“Hello, Liv. Gabriel,” Patrick said. “We were discussing motorcycles. I might buy one. They look like fun.”

“Isn’t there some kind of rule against that?” I said. “Crossing into enemy territory?”

There was, for one split second, the most wonderful look of surprise on Patrick’s face before he covered it with a breezy grin.

I turned to Ricky. “Gabriel’s joining us for pizza.”

“Actually,” Gabriel began, “Olivia and I need—”

“Can you take it over to Rose’s?” I asked Ricky. “I’ll meet you both there. I’d like to speak to Patrick.”

I waited until they were gone, and then I said to Patrick, “Leave him alone.”

“Which him? You have so many.”

“One fewer now.”

His lips pursed. “I wasn’t going to say that. It seemed rude.”

“I’m making a point. James’s death had something to do with this Mallt-y-Nos nonsense.”

“Nonsense?”

“Oh, I know, it’s life or death to you. But to me? It’s a whole other kind of life or death. The kind that is getting people I care about killed. And other people I care about charged with murder.”

“That is unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate?” I choked with sudden rage. “He’s your son. I know that doesn’t mean fuck-all to you, but could you at least have the decency to acknowledge he’s in trouble?”

Patrick had abandoned Gabriel. No, not abandoned him, because he’d always been in Cainsville, like an old family friend—and that somehow made it worse, made it colder. He’d seen the hell that had been Gabriel’s young life, and he’d stood back and watched, then dared to claim it was for Gabriel’s own good. Tempering steel, he’d said.

“Take a deep breath,” Patrick said.

My fists clenched.

“You can hit me if it’ll make you feel better. I promise not to hold it against you. It won’t do any lasting damage.”

“Then why would I bother?”

The son of a bitch smiled.

I forced myself to continue. “I would appreciate it if you could see fit to at least acknowledge what is happening with Gabriel the next time you see him. At least say you’re sure it will all be fine.”

“But he will be fine. He obviously didn’t kill the man, and he’s an excellent lawyer. He’ll fix this.”

“And if not, well, hey, what better way to toughen him up than twelve years in maximum security?”

“I’ll acknowledge the situation and express my certainty that it will resolve itself.”

“On second thought, don’t bother. You’ll only screw up that, too.”

He met my gaze with a cool look, one of the few times I could see a resemblance to his son. “I might suggest you moderate your tone with me, Olivia.”

“You don’t like it, bòcan? Then curdle the cream and get me fired. Oh, wait, no . . . I have another job.” I headed for Rose’s. “And stay away from Ricky.”

“I was simply talking to him,” he called after me. “I have no issue with him being here. In fact, I find it an intriguing set of circumstances.”

“No, you find it an amusing set of circumstances. You love seeing the elders squirm, and what’s better than this? They’ve pinned all their hopes on me, certain I’ll hook up with their golden boy and save them from extinction, and instead, the competition is sharing my bed, in their own town, and there’s not a damn thing they can do about it.”

His lips quirked. “It is rather amusing.”

“For you. Not so much for me. Or Gabriel. Or James. Or any of us caught up in this mess. I’d think you’d be less amused, given the ending if I ride off with Ricky. I hear it would be your ending, too.”

“Hardly. They’ll go down with the ship. I’ll bail. I’ve done it before.”

“Like a rat.”

“An apt comparison.”

“Then none of this concerns you, so unless you can help, stay the hell away from Ricky. From both of them, in fact. And speaking of helping, if you know anything that can assist Gabriel’s defense—anything at all—you’d better—”

“I would let you know. You don’t need to threaten me. In fact, I daresay you’d better not.”

“And again, I don’t give a flying fuck.”

“You’re angry with the elders, but you’re furious with me. They lie to you. They deceive you. They’ll use you if they can. But my crime is greater because you believe I’ve wronged him.”

I followed his gaze to see Gabriel at the end of the passageway, standing back on the sidewalk, out of earshot, but waiting and watching.

“Can I leave now? I have pizza waiting.”

He smiled. “Pizza. That’s very important. You can leave anytime you want. But you aren’t foolish enough to turn your back on me. Remember this, bychan. I’m no threat to you. Or to him. I can be an ally, if you can put aside your anger long enough to ask for help. If not for your sake, then for . . .”

He nodded toward Gabriel, and fresh rage whipped through me.

“Yes, I’m exploiting your weakness,” he said. “I’m not above that. In fact, as you might imagine, I’m extremely pleased by it. Gabriel doesn’t need my help or my support. He has more than enough of yours.”

I glared at him.

“You think I mock you,” he said. “I don’t. You might not be sleeping with my son, but sex is only sex. If a choice were to be made, I have no doubt who it would be. It’s the Cwn Annwn who should be worried.”

“No, it’s both sides that should be worried, because I’m not playing your little game.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have that option, bychan.”

“Oh, I think I do.”

I turned and strode back to Gabriel.