Shadows on the Soul

  When Eli dismissed her, she tried one more time to reach across the psychic connection to touch Gabriel’s thoughts. But the doors of his mind were locked and barred against her.

  20

  GABRIEL DIDN’T HAVE DRAKE’S cell phone number, nor did he know exactly where the Killer lived, but thanks to Jezebel he knew the general vicinity. From there, it was a relatively simple matter to seek out the psychic footprint of the only century-old vampire in the neighborhood.

  Drake lived in a quaint old brownstone in Society Hill. Gabriel climbed the three stairs to the front door, then rang the doorbell.

  He felt Drake’s cautious approach, and for a moment thought he might have to unlock the door and let himself in. But Drake had to know he couldn’t keep Gabriel out, so he opened the door and leaned against the jamb.

  “Well,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “I wasn’t expecting to see you on my doorstep after our conversation last night.”

  Gabriel shrugged. “In all honesty, I don’t want to be here. But I’m potentially going to my death tonight.

  “I’ve got a rendezvous with Camille and di Cesare,” he continued, watching Drake’s eyes widen in surprise. “We’ve decided to get together and try to kill each other like civilized people.”

  Drake snorted a laugh. “And you’ve decided to accept my offer of aid after all?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “You’d be out of your league, old son.” Drake would be more of a hindrance than a help, Gabriel was sure. “But I do have a favor to ask of you.”

  Again, Drake laughed. “You’re a piece of work! Why on earth would you think I’d want to do you a favor?”

  The tone caused Gabriel’s fists to clench, but he managed to keep his own voice calm and level, even as his lip curled in distaste. “Because I think you’re a basically decent fellow, and because you know what it’s like to be on the outside looking in.” Drake looked like he was about to say something, but Gabriel cut him off. “Jezebel has gone back to Eli’s,” he said. “I suspect Eli will forgive her because he knows she had no choice but to do as I ordered, but I doubt she’ll get the same understanding from the rest of the Guardians.”

  Drake cocked his head, no longer looking wary or amused. “Just what are you asking me to do?”

  “Just …” Gabriel’s voice almost gave out on him, his throat tightening at the sense of loss. He cleared his throat. “Just keep an eye out for her, will you? I know Eli won’t let anything happen to her while she’s at his house, but once she returns home …” He shrugged, sure he’d made his point even if he hadn’t been as articulate as he might have liked.

  Drake nodded slowly. “All right. I’ll look after her.” He grinned. “At least, as much as she’ll let me.”

  Gabriel returned the grin, though it felt strained. He had a feeling Jez wouldn’t accept anywhere near as much help as she needed, but that would have to be her decision.

  “Thank you,” he said. He nodded briefly, then started down the stairs.

  “Gabriel.”

  He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face Drake once again. “Yes?”

  Drake straightened up, then descended a couple of steps, holding out his hand. “Good luck.”

  Strangely moved by the gesture, Gabriel shook the Killer’s hand. “Thank you. Again.”

  CAMILLE FELT LIKE A sitting duck. Which, in many ways, she was. Bartolomeo and his fledglings were waiting for her call, on the other side of town, well out of reach of Gabriel’s vampire senses. She was alone in the warehouse, except for the frightened little girl who was still tied to the bed.

  If Gabriel charged in like an enraged bull, she’d be dead before she even knew he was here. But no, there was little chance of that. He was far too old to be incautious. And while he might hold her in some amount of contempt, he would not make the mistake of thinking her stupid. He would sense in her solitary presence a trap, and he would proceed accordingly.

  In the darkness of the deserted industrial neighborhood, the tripwire that stretched across the bottom of the warehouse door was invisible, even to Camille, who knew it was there. All she had to do was lure Gabriel inside. She leaned into a tiny patch of moonlight, glancing at her watch. It was almost midnight. He would be here soon.

  The child had fallen asleep, exhausted by her ordeal. Camille prodded her awake and removed the gag. A few childish whimpers ought to help ensure that Gabriel would enter the warehouse.

  It took very little effort to induce the girl to comply.

  DRAKE SAT IN THE library, with Eli and Jezebel. He’d debated whether to tell them of Gabriel’s visit, but it had been a brief debate. If nothing else, Eli should know that Gabriel was planning to do battle with Camille and di Cesare tonight.

  Jez had taken to pacing across the room, her eyes swimming with worry as she chewed her lower lip raw. Eli watched her pace and said nothing. The tension in the room was as thick and oppressive as the humid summer night.

  “They wouldn’t have agreed to fight him if they didn’t think they had an ace in the hole,” Jez muttered, voicing what they all knew to be true. She turned to Eli. “He has to know that. And yet he’s going anyway.”

  There was an accusatory tone in her voice, and the hardness in Eli’s eyes said he heard it.

  “His feud with di Cesare predates his feud with me,” Eli said, his voice milder than his expression.

  Neither Jez’s voice nor her expression could be called anything like mild as she threw up her hands in disgust. “He’s right! No matter what he does, you’re determined to see him in the worst possible light!”

  “Jezebel—”

  She put her fists on her hips and glared at him, too angry to be as circumspect as she should have been. Tears glimmered in her eyes, but didn’t fall. “You should be helping him, Eli! He shouldn’t be going out there to face them alone. And no matter what you tell yourself, he’s not going out to fight them just because he hates them more than he hates you. He’s doing your fucking job!”

  Drake felt his jaw drop open, then quickly snapped it shut. No one talked to Eli like that. Not if they wanted to live.

  Predictably, the room was growing cold.

  Drake had promised Gabriel he’d look after Jez, but he hadn’t expected to be trying to protect her from Eli. Or from herself, for that matter. Still, he could see that she’d completely lost the reins on her temper, and if he didn’t intervene, she was going to dig the hole deeper. With a silent apology, he reached out with his glamour and stilled her.

  It was harder than it should have been, considering she was such a young fledgling, and she wasn’t a Killer. She glared furiously at Eli.

  “Don’t glare at him,” Drake said. “I’m the one holding you.”

  Her eyes narrowed to slits as she turned her head toward him. He had to suppress a shiver. She shouldn’t have been able to turn her head, not with his glamour holding her.

  Was it all a lie? Was Jez actually a Killer? But even if she were a Killer, she shouldn’t have been able to resist him when he was so much older.

  He hoped his face didn’t reveal how unnerving he found that single small gesture.

  “Having a temper tantrum isn’t going to help anything,” he told her. “Gabriel would be pissed as hell if you got yourself hurt or killed defending his honor to Eli.”

  Now it was Eli’s turn to glare at Drake. “I had no intention of hurting or killing her, as I’m sure you know.”

  Drake met his stare steadily. “Once upon a time, I thought I knew you. But I didn’t.” The words felt like a lead weight on his soul. “You’re willing to abandon everything you believe in just because you’re pissed at Gabriel. You’re not the man I once thought you were.”

  Eli blinked, like he didn’t know what to do with that statement. His expression still gave little away, but there was a hint of a crack in his façade. The room had warmed up, so no matter how much he didn’t like what Drake was saying, he was apparently not reacting with anger.

 
That increased the odds that Drake would live through saying his piece.

  “Fletcher was right about me,” he said. “The people I kill may be scum, but they are still people. I’m a murderer many times over, just like Gabriel. And just like you.” Eli actually flinched at that. “And even your Guardians are murderers. How many have they killed since you founded the Guardians?”

  “They’ve destroyed Killers!”

  “Yes,” Drake agreed promptly, “they’ve killed very bad people. Just like I have. And, apparently, just like Gabriel has. The only difference is that Gabriel and I kill mortals, while the Guardians kill vampires.”

  Eli shook his head violently, though the troubled expression on his face showed that Drake’s words were having an effect. “You are not like Gabriel!” he argued. “Maybe you’re right, and the mortals he has killed over the centuries have been reprehensible human beings all. But he also takes pleasure in torturing his victims.”

  “No, he doesn’t!” Jezebel said.

  Again, Drake had to suppress a shudder. He hadn’t released her from his glamour. At least, not consciously. But she’d shaken him off completely. He didn’t dare try to hold her again and find out he couldn’t.

  Drake and Eli both turned to stare at her.

  “If he had just killed di Cesare instead of stopping to torture him, then we wouldn’t be having this discussion right now,” Eli argued.

  Jez dismissed that with a wave. “I didn’t say he hasn’t hurt people. And I didn’t say I approve of it. What I’m saying is he doesn’t really enjoy it. He just thinks it’s justice. An Old Testament, eye for an eye kind of justice, but that’s what it is to him. It’s not about getting his jollies.”

  “I’m sure his victims would be most comforted to know that.”

  The look in Jezebel’s eyes suggested she was about to take her life in her hands again, so Drake jumped in.

  “Arguing about this is pointless,” he said. “Eli, you’re not going to convince Jez that Gabriel’s the anti-Christ. And Jez, you’re not going to convince Eli that he’s an avenging angel. There’s nothing we can do to help or hurt him right this moment. So why don’t we all just shut up so we don’t hurt each other anymore.”

  To his surprise and relief, both Jez and Eli backed down. But how long would the peace last?

  GABRIEL HAD THE CAB drop him off a good four blocks from the rendezvous point. He wanted to get the lay of the land before he approached. He quickly sensed the psychic footprint of a vampire in the direction of the address he’d been given. A quick examination showed a vampire of eight hundred years, which he assumed was his mother. He focused his senses on her, sweeping around her in ever-increasing circles. He found a mortal, very close to her.

  And then nothing. Sparks of mortality flickered here and there in the nearby buildings, but the area directly around where Camille awaited him was devoid of life.

  What was she up to? She couldn’t possibly hope to defeat him alone. And yet, there was nowhere her cohorts could hide from his psychic survey.

  Using his unique ability to mask his presence, he slowly made his way toward the rendezvous, all his senses, psychic and otherwise, on full alert. And still he felt nothing, no sign of life anywhere near where Camille awaited him.

  Wishing he had some idea what her game was, knowing it had to be a trap of some sort, he walked into it anyway.

  The address where Camille had told him to meet her was a decrepit-looking warehouse on the river front. He inspected the building for a good five or ten minutes, hiding in the shadows, hoping to spot the trap. But he saw nothing.

  Most of the windows were boarded over, and those that weren’t were broken and cracked. The building looked like it hadn’t been used in at least a decade. But, he supposed that’s why Camille and friends had chosen it. No prying mortal eyes to get in the way.

  Facing the river was a loading dock, but the massive metal doors there were locked and barred. A smaller door off to the side stood open, an invitation.

  If he could have found a different door, Gabriel would have used it for the surprise factor. He even considered entering through one of the windows, but the only ones he could get through would require him to levitate, smash out the remaining glass, and then jump through and land without hurting himself. By the time he did all that, the surprise factor would be gone.

  Not sure what else to do, he reached out with his glamour and took hold of Camille. He felt her feeble attempt to fight him off, but he brushed her aside as easily as a mortal would swat a mosquito.

  Camille, fighting and stumbling the whole way, moved to stand in the doorway, where the glow of a street light could illuminate her face. Her eyes were wide and frightened-looking, her pulse racing. His nostrils flared at the scent of fear in the air.

  This made no sense. If she was so afraid, why was she waiting for him here alone? He took a couple of steps closer.

  “What are you playing at, Mother?” he asked, cocking his head at her.

  “I’m the bait,” she said, her voice wobbling slightly. “I’m to call Bartolomeo and his men when you’ve arrived. They didn’t want any chance that you would sense their numbers and decide not to come. I told them you weren’t such a coward, but …” She shrugged.

  Gabriel laughed derisively. “Is this like one of those horror movies? ‘Gee, a horrible monster is hunting us and trying to kill us. Let’s split up?’”

  She visibly swallowed hard. “They figure I’m expendable,” she said.

  His fangs slid down. “Funny, I feel the same way about you.” He let up on his glamour and took a step toward her.

  Camille took a couple of hasty steps back, holding her hands up as if to ward him off. “Think about this a minute. If you kill me, I won’t be able to call them. Bartolomeo will get away.”

  She kept retreating, her heart beating loudly enough that he could hear it. He cracked his knuckles, a feral grin on his face.

  “I guess I’ll just have to persuade you to make the call before I kill you,” he answered.

  He took two giant strides toward her, his glamour halting her retreat. She made a small whimpering sound in the back of her throat as he crossed the threshold into the darkened interior of the warehouse.

  There was a soft popping noise, and then something sharp and stinging smacked his shoulder.

  He took a giant step to the side, turning and searching for his unseen adversary as he checked out the wound in his peripheral vision.

  A nasty-looking little barb clung to his skin. A tranquilizer dart, he guessed. His brows drew together in puzzlement. Tranquilizers didn’t work on vampires, so what the—

  Camille was smiling at him, the fear gone from her eyes. He plucked the dart out, but the injection site hurt like the devil. He winced.

  Camille moved closer to him. And that was when he realized his glamour wasn’t holding her any longer.

  Swaying on his feet, he tried to grab hold again. But the pain from the injection site was spreading, fire burning through his muscles. His legs buckled, and he fell to his knees.

  Camille stepped closer, staying just out of reach. “It seems the European vampires have discovered a drug that can disable one of their own. A very convenient discovery, don’t you think?”

  He tried to answer back with a sarcastic, unworried quip, but his tongue felt thick in his throat and his brain stumbled on the words. The pain hammered at him, eating away at his strength until all he could do was lie still and clench his teeth while Camille gloated in victory.

  21

  JEZ HAD RETREATED TO the guest bedroom, needing to put some distance between herself and Eli. Father and son were more alike than either of them would like to admit, if in nothing else than their basic hard-headedness.

  She wasn’t entirely sure what to do with herself right now. There was a TV in the downstairs parlor, but this floor of the mansion had no such modern accouterments. And she hadn’t had the foresight to grab a book while she was in the library.


  She flopped onto the bed, rolling over onto her back and staring at the ceiling, trying not to think.

  A sharp sting suddenly lanced through her shoulder, and she gasped. She slapped her hand over the sting, but could find no source for the pain. She sat up hastily and looked around the room, thinking surely there must be a bee or wasp flying around. But there wasn’t, and the pain was spreading, a wave of stinging heat radiating out from the initial non-existent wound.

  Heart thumping, she slipped off the bed and tried to stand up, but her knees buckled. What the hell was wrong with her?

  Gabriel!

  She stopped trying to stand, instead resting her back against the bed and closing her eyes. The pain kept getting worse, kept spreading. She forced deep, even breaths, shunting the pain aside as she reached across the psychic connection.

  Gabriel? What’s the matter? Where are you?

  A vision flashed before her eyes. Camille, standing in a doorway, smiling in malicious triumph.

  Jezebel.

  Her whole body was shaking with the strain of holding the tenuous connection while fighting off the pain.

  Where are you? she asked again.

  Be safe, Jez, he responded.

  And then he cut the psychic connection, like a door slamming shut between them.

  “Gabriel!” she howled out loud. “Don’t you dare shut me out!”

  The pain was gone now, blocked out by Gabriel’s barriers. She concentrated all her will on re-establishing the connection, but no matter how hard she pounded on that door, it remained firmly shut against her.

  Damn, him! Damn him to Hell!

  Tears streaked her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around her legs and let the sobs tear through her.

  GABRIEL HAD NEVER FELT pain like this before, so all-encompassing, unrelenting. It pulsed through him with every beat of his heart, sapping his strength, bathing his body in sweat. He lay helpless on the warehouse floor as Camille called Bartolomeo and reported the success of their plan.