Shadows on the Soul

Jezebel obeyed and took a step back from him. “You heard me calling for you,” she said.

  He nodded, but didn’t answer. Instead, he started walking toward the subway entrance he’d noticed, dragging her attacker with him, forcing him to walk to his death on his own power. Jezebel fell into step beside him, though she kept a wary distance between them.

  “Wait for me here,” he ordered.

  “Gabriel—”

  He didn’t look at her. “This thing touched you. Wanted to hurt you.” He bared his fangs, and Jezebel’s attacker practically pissed his pants.

  “Gabriel—” she tried again.

  “You don’t want to see what I’m going to do to him.”

  She laid a hand on his arm. His gaze snapped to hers, and she saw something in his eyes that made her let go and take a hasty step back. That pricked his conscience, but the bloodlust ran too keenly through his veins for him to protect her delicate sensibilities.

  “Wait for me here,” he said again, and this time she nodded faintly, her face pale and her eyes wide.

  Gabriel steered his soon-to-be victim down into the subway tunnel as the beast within him crowed in delighted anticipation.

  IT WAS A BEAUTIFULLY warm spring night, but Jez shivered and hugged herself as she stood rooted to the sidewalk, waiting for Gabriel to emerge from the subway.

  She knew it would be only Gabriel who emerged. And she couldn’t say she felt bad to think the vampire who’d grabbed her was going to die. It was the how of it that made her insides want to curl up in a ball and hide.

  She’d seen, and felt, the madness within her maker for the few moments before she’d mustered her mental forces and somehow managed to block him out. She didn’t want to know how he felt as he killed the guy, and she certainly didn’t want to know what he did to him before he died.

  Tears pricked at her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to keep them from falling. The vamp who’d grabbed her deserved everything Gabriel was going to do to him. She didn’t know who he was, but he’d made it very clear what he was planning to do to her when he got her to their unknown destination. And he’d also made it clear he wouldn’t be the only one doing it.

  No, he had not been alone, and Jezebel hoped Gabriel had enough sanity and self-control to ask some questions before he …

  She swallowed hard, her ears straining for any sounds that might leak out of the tunnel. But whatever Gabriel was doing, he was being quiet about it.

  Her knees felt weak and wobbly, so she went to sit on the front stoop of a charming little bookstore, locked up tight for the night. She wrapped her arms around her legs and hoped her feeble glamour was strong enough to shield her from the mortals who prowled the city streets at night. This wasn’t a particularly bad neighborhood, but there weren’t many streets in this city that felt safe for a lone woman at this time of night. The last thing she wanted right now was a fight.

  She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there hugging her knees before Gabriel finally emerged from the tunnel. She looked up and met his eyes, seeing that familiar dead expression, the one she hadn’t seen for a while now. Her heart thumped unhappily, and her throat constricted.

  Without a word, he came to sit on the step beside her. She drew in a deep breath, noticing against her will that there was no scent of blood on him. Of course, he didn’t have to make someone bleed to make him hurt a whole hell of a lot.

  She blinked away tears and fought to stop more from coming.

  “Are you all right?” Gabriel asked softly. “Did he hurt you?”

  She shook her head, sniffling. To her surprise, he put his arm around her and drew her close to him, giving her comfort. She’d thought he’d moved beyond her reach, emotionally.

  Feeling like a helpless victim, and hating it with all her might, she snuggled closer to him. Tears leaked from her eyes one by one, though she tried to stop them.

  Gabriel wrapped his other arm around her and held her tight, his chin resting on the top of her head. She laid her hand against his chest and breathed deeply the scent of him, more glad than she could possibly express that he didn’t reek of blood.

  “Thank you for coming for me,” she said, her voice a bare whisper as still she fought the tears.

  His arms tightened around her. His lips pressed softly against the top of her head. But he didn’t say anything.

  Even though she knew the answer to the question, she couldn’t help asking, “Is he dead?”

  “But of course,” Gabriel said.

  She swallowed hard, trying to quell the tears without spectacular success. “Did you find out who he was? Why he was trying to kidnap me?”

  “Yes.” Even in that one word, she could hear the grimness in his voice.

  It was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment, but she pushed away from him. He still had that flat, dead look in his eyes, but she could feel the turmoil that churned beneath the impassive surface. Whatever he’d learned, he didn’t like it one bit.

  He dropped his gaze, staring at the pavement. “I’m sorry, Jez. You were being used to trap me.”

  She gasped. “What?” For an endlessly horrifying moment, she thought he meant the Guardians had been behind the attack. But he quickly clarified.

  “Nothing to do with Eli. Well, not really.” He grimaced. “Apparently, leaving my mother alone in Baltimore was not my wisest decision ever. It seems she made a field trip to Paris, where we lived before we came to America. And she’s brought back someone who wants me dead even more than my father does.”

  That wasn’t hard at all, seeing as Eli didn’t really want Gabriel dead. He just thought that’s what he should want.

  A strange, tinny version of Darth Vader’s theme suddenly emanated from Gabriel’s pocket. He curled his lip in distaste as he pulled a cell phone out. She knew without having to ask that it wasn’t his.

  He flipped the phone open and grunted a greeting vague enough that the caller didn’t realize it wasn’t who he was expecting.

  “Well?” a man’s voice asked, sounding terribly impatient. “How close are you? I expected you to have brought our prize home by now.”

  Gabriel’s eyes seemed almost to glow in the dark with hatred. “Bartolomeo di Cesare,” he said. “How good of you to come to town so I can finish what I started all those long years ago.”

  Jez heard the caller’s harsh intake of breath.

  “I’m afraid your fledgling’s met with an unfortunate accident,” Gabriel continued, chuckling harshly. “And if you, or my mother, or any of your flunkies lays a hand on my fledgling again, I’ll see how many of your other parts I can cut off without killing you. So unless you’d like to live eternally as a paraplegic with no ears, nose, or eyes, I’d suggest you get the fuck out of Philadelphia and thank the gods above that I don’t follow you and hunt you down.”

  Before di Cesare could muster an answer, Gabriel snapped the phone closed.

  And once again, Jezebel felt that simmering hatred rise inside him. And she knew that he’d meant every word he’d said.

  GABRIEL TRIED TO CALM himself, the beast once again writhing and twisting in his chest and belly. He knew from the tight squinch of Jezebel’s eyes that she felt it too.

  Who would have thought his mother had the guts to fly to Europe to look for help against him? Certainly he had never considered the possibility himself. No, he’d been sure she was a broken woman, her mind shattered by the knowledge of just exactly how helpless she was against him.

  But for her to have joined forces with di Cesare! Cruel though she might be, he hadn’t thought her so twisted as to ally herself with a rapist and murderer of children.

  Not that di Cesare had been capable, of raping anyone since Gabriel had divested him of his weapons centuries ago.

  “Who is he?” Jez asked, nodding at the phone he still clutched in his hand.

  He ground his teeth. “A very evil man.”

  She sniffed. “I picked up on that. Give me the specifics.”

  He suf
fered a flash of resentment that she would issue what sounded suspiciously like an order, but he didn’t think there was any reason to keep di Cesare’s story to himself.

  The version he gave her was highly abbreviated, but he left out none of the important details. He watched her face, looking for any sign of horror or censure. After all, he could have simply killed the animal when he caught him. But death had seemed too good for him, though Gabriel had intended to leave him dead in the end.

  Jez’s face gave no indication that she was horrified or disgusted by him. But then, having been victim to a terrible rape herself, perhaps she did not have an abundance of sympathy for men who committed it.

  She leaned her head against his shoulder, a silent show of solidarity that made his heart squeeze in the strangest way. He closed his eyes and breathed deep of her clean scent, reveling in it. He couldn’t ever remember having this much contact with anyone who was genuinely good before.

  He’d hurt the vampire who’d attempted to kidnap her no more than was necessary to extract the information he required. In the past, he would have made that death last an hour, at least. He would have enjoyed every drop of terror he could wring from his victim, drunk in every sound of pain that escaped him.

  This kill had been different. Oh, he didn’t feel the least hint of remorse for it, or for the pain he’d caused during his brief interrogation. But there had been no great joy in it, either, no feeling of blessed release.

  Jezebel’s phone rang, and she cursed. She pushed away from him, fumbling through her purse for the phone. The way she suddenly avoided his eyes and looked anxious told him who she thought the call was from.

  “Eli again, eh?” he asked, feeling no surge of fury at the mention of his father’s name.

  She bit her lip and nodded. “He’s ‘suggested’ I stay with him for safety, and I should have been there by now.”

  She found the phone but hesitated to answer.

  He smiled reassuringly at her. “Don’t worry. Your cell phone is safe from my wrath.”

  Jez didn’t look convinced, but she answered the phone anyway.

  “Sorry, Eli,” she said in lieu of a greeting. “I got delayed a bit.”

  “But you’re all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. I should have called.”

  Gabriel heard the relief in his father’s voice, and realized Eli did care about her after all. It was for Gabriel that he’d reserved that peculiar, uninflected tone that gave away nothing.

  In the few moments that he listened in on the phone call, he realized a few other things as well. For one, he had no desire to let Jezebel move into his father’s house for protection. If she were living there, then Gabriel wouldn’t be able to see her, and that was unacceptable.

  For another, much though he hated to admit it, Eli should be warned that an animal like di Cesare was in the city. Freed from the control of the Seigneur and Les Vieux, di Cesare might very well decide to indulge his unnatural appetites while he was here. The Guardians should be warned. And who knew, perhaps they would be able to hunt him down and destroy him.

  The conversation was winding to a close when Gabriel reached out his hand and gestured for Jez to give him the phone. He saw her fingers tighten around the phone as her eyes went wide.

  “Is something wrong?” Eli asked at the sudden silence.

  Gabriel repeated the gesture, and Jez reluctantly handed the phone over. He took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke.

  “I wish to call a truce, Father,” he said, the words sour on his tongue.

  Jezebel gasped and gaped at him. He wanted to give her another reassuring smile, but he couldn’t muster one, not with the effort his words were costing him.

  “So,” Eli said, his voice back to that infuriating flatness he seemed to reserve just for Gabriel. “You’re the delay that came up.”

  “No, not exactly. It seems I’m not the only one who’s come to Philadelphia with revenge in mind. I’ve discovered that my mother has come for me, bringing an old friend.”

  Eli was silent.

  “She’s brought Bartolomeo di Cesare.”

  Eli’s sigh was soft, but audible, though still he didn’t speak. Gabriel swallowed his own reluctance and forced himself to continue. The time for subtlety was past. When the truce was over, there would be straight-out war.

  “Jezebel is mine,” he said. She gasped yet again.

  “Yours,” Eli said softly. “As in … ?”

  “As in I made her. Yes. I’m sure Jules and company told you about the dying mortal woman we pulled from Ian’s hiding place.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  Gabriel heard a combination of disapproval and anger in his father’s voice. If it had been directed at him, he’d have ignored it. “It’s not her fault I sent her to you under false pretenses.” A sidelong glance showed him the tears that snaked down Jezebel’s cheeks. She lowered her head, letting her hair shield her face from view.

  His heart squeezed again, and he put his arm around her. She snuggled easily against him. His throat tightened at her trust.

  “I’m sure you understand, Father, that as my fledgling she did not dare defy me.”

  “No. Of course not.”

  The disapproval was still in his voice, but Gabriel didn’t think he could do anything to make it go away. “For the moment,” he said, “I’m going to keep her with me. It seems that my mother and her new pet thought to get to me through Jezebel.”

  “She would be safest at my house,” Eli commented.

  Physically, maybe. But Gabriel wasn’t about to subject her to Eli’s subtle, poisonous brand of emotional punishment. “You would treat her like a traitor. I won’t have that. She stays with me.”

  “Gabriel—”

  The anger rose within him, urging him to lash out, but he did his best to keep it leashed. “She’s staying with me and that’s final. And I will call a truce with you until di Cesare is dead. I would not loose him on the unwary citizens of your fair city and then distract you from the hunt.”

  “How very thoughtful of you.”

  A soft whimper told him his grip on Jezebel had grown too tight, and he hastily released her. He couldn’t trust his temper. His heart thudded against his breastbone, and he wanted to reach through the phone line and grab Eli by his sanctimonious throat.

  “Listen, you old—”

  “Also thoughtful of you to rid my ‘fair city’ as you call it of Margaret McCall and George Parks.”

  Gabriel’s voice died in his throat.

  “I thought it odd that Jezebel would ask for your victims’ names, so I looked them up,” Eli continued.

  Gabriel swore under his breath.

  “I’m thankful to learn that you have not taken the innocent in your desire to hurt me.” Eli sounded like he was choosing his words with great care. “However, I want to make it clear to you that my position hasn’t changed.”

  Gabriel growled deep in his throat. “Glad to hear that, Eli. Because mine hasn’t either. Over the centuries, I’ve become quite proficient at finding ways to hurt people. If my kills no longer cause you distress, I’ll find something that does.” He swallowed back some of the bile. “But not while di Cesare still hunts the city. I would even offer to rid you of his odious presence, if your Guardians should locate him and discover him beyond their abilities. I can’t imagine they’ve ever had to deal with a vampire of his age before.”

  As far as he knew, he and Camille and Eli were the oldest vampires in the New World, or at least were before di Cesare had arrived. For Eli’s Guardians, an “old” vampire would be one of, say, two hundred years.

  “A generous offer,” Eli said dryly, his tone indicating that he had no intention of taking Gabriel up on it.

  “Fine!” he snapped. “If you think your little band of toy soldiers can handle a Killer of his caliber, have at it! If you change your mind, you can contact me through Jezebel.

  “Oh, and one more thing. In addition to di Cesare, my mother has
apparently brought another ‘friend’ from home. And this little chippie is the daughter of La Vieille de la Nord.”

  Gabriel smiled in satisfaction to hear his father’s gasp of surprised dismay. Then he turned off Jezebel’s phone and snapped it shut.

  14

  DRAKE GLIDED THROUGH THE darkness of the ghetto, shrouding himself in glamour, turning all mortal eyes away from him. Sometimes he used himself as bait when he went hunting. An unknown white man parading boldly through this neighborhood at this time of night was certain to attract all the wrong kinds of attention. But that was a dangerous game, one that tempted fate. Aside from punks with guns, there was always the threat of witnesses. The world at large didn’t believe vampires existed, and it was best that way.

  The temptation to attract a crowd tonight was stronger than he would have liked to admit. Although he was somewhat more even-tempered than most of Eli’s young, impetuous Guardians, an excess of energy made him restless and irritable. He’d love a good fight, not his usual clean, merciful kill.

  Across the street, a likely candidate for dinner caught his eye, and he began to follow discreetly.

  The punk looked to be in his late twenties, and dressed in full gangbanger regalia, complete with chunky gold jewelry and trousers so baggy the crotch practically dragged on the pavement. But it wasn’t the clothing that caught Drake’s eye. It was the swagger, the attitude. The cruel, deadly expression, and the way others on the street subtly tensed when he approached, then relaxed when he was past. Once in his distant past, he’d have caused a similar reaction when he walked the streets of his home.

  A patrol car cruised by, mostly ignored by the predators who mingled in the streets. Both officers in the car were black. The hostility that vibrated through the air here suggested that police officers would be only marginally safer than civilians.

  The details were different, but in atmosphere and mood, this place was an aching reminder of his misspent youth. Misery. Poverty. Violence. Prejudice. All present day in and day out, crushing the human spirit.

  When he was in his darkest moods, as he was tonight, he wondered if his bite wasn’t the ultimate mercy for most of his victims.