Chapter Thirteen
“Trajan, we have to run. Now. I’ve got horses waiting…”
Marius’ voice filtered through smoke and flames. Through burning rage.
Gabriel shoved the other aside. “Not leaving. Not until I kill every last one of these bastards.”
“Goddamnit, there’s no time—”
The enemy swarmed out of the flaming building, surrounding them. Gabriel bared his teeth, the beast rearing, clawing inside him. Weeks they’d held him captive, beaten and flogged him, laughing as he thrashed in agony.
They’re all dead men.
The moon glinted off his knives. The sea roared.
When the haze lifted, bodies lay on the sand all around him. His hands were warm and sticky. Stillness fell like a shroud. Too still. Where was Marius?
His gaze shot to the distance. Two figures near the cliffs. One held a pistol.
The other was Marius.
“No,” Gabriel shouted.
The shot shattered the night.
***
“I’m sorry, my lord. The babe came early. There was nothing I could do for either of them.”
Words echoing through an empty corridor. All he could see was the closed door, the barrier that had briefly opened seven months ago. It is my duty, Tremont, to give you a spare to go with the heir. Cool words, cooler sheets.
His hand lifted of its own accord, reaching for the knob.
“No, my lord, you mustn’t go in. There hasn’t been time to—”
Death. The scent of it rousing his instincts, putting them on alert. But danger had already come and gone, leaving destruction in its wake. He ran a trembling hand over matted brown hair, beauty turned into a waxen mask.
Duty had killed her—he had killed her. He sat numbly amidst the blood-stained linens, holding the remnants of love.
***
Gabriel awoke, panting.
His hands clutched… bedclothes. Not the interrogation chamber in Normandy. Not his estate. Flickering dimness, a strange bed—
“Be calm, my love. You’re fine. I’m here.”
His head turned in the direction of the voice. In the gloom, he saw glimmering hazel eyes, hair spun of gold and honey. Recognition anchored his woozy senses.
“Thea?” he croaked. “What happened?”
Her hand fluttered against his forehead. “You were in an accident this morning.”
Panic flared. “Frederick?”
“He’s safe,” she said soothingly. “No, don’t move—”
Too late. Pain clawed his side when he tried to sit up. He fell back against the pillows, black streaking across his vision.
“You must have a care, Gabriel.” Her voice quivered with worry, and she pressed something cool against his forehead. “There was an explosion, and you sustained injuries. Luckily, no vital organs were damaged, but you do have bruised ribs. Dr. Abernathy removed a wooden shard from your side.”
In a flash, it returned to him: scattered vegetables, the overturned cart blocking the path. He’d opened the carriage door, intending to get out and see what was going on. Then came the deafening blast. Fire shooting everywhere. He’d hurtled through space, horses screaming…
“My driver?” he bit out.
“He’s alive,” she said quietly, “but his injuries will take some time to heal.”
Another innocent hurt because of him. Guilt and rage made his head spin, blackness rising.
“Have some of this.” She held a glass to his lips.
The cool, citrus-flavored liquid was a balm to his parched throat. He drank greedily and didn’t notice the bitterness until after he’d downed it all.
“Devil take it. You gave me laudanum?”
“Dr. Abernathy said you’ll need it for the pain. And to get some rest.”
“Don’t need rest. Have to get the bastard who did this—”
“When you’re better. Right now you can’t stand on your own two feet let alone hunt down a murderer,” she chided gently. “If you try to move, you’ll only reinjure your wounds.”
He sagged against the pillows, his mind fuzzing in and out of focus. Have to protect them… have to tell her… even if she despises me… He fought off the fog, gripped her wrist.
“Tell Strathaven,” he said hoarsely, “he must keep everyone safe. Protect you.”
“You needn’t worry. There are footmen everywhere.”
“No. Professional guards.” His tongue was thick in his mouth, his eyelids pulling down like lead weights. He grasped the first thing that came to mind. “Your brother’s agency—promise me.”
“I promise.” Her eyes were wide, her lips trembling. “What is going on, Gabriel?”
He tried to focus as her face blurred. “The enemy… dangerous.”
“Who is he? Gabriel…”
Her voice came as if from afar. He was falling, falling into a black tunnel.
“Spectre,” he whispered.
The dark dragged him down.