Shadows on the Soul

  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. If Drake tried to stop her, he would win. So she just had to hope he wouldn’t try to stop her.

  “Brigitte says I can use my bond with Gabriel to draw the pain away from him so that he can function again. If he can break free while Eli is there, the two of them together stand a fighting chance.”

  For about half a block, Drake said nothing, the only sound the steady thump of his shoes against the pavement as he kept pace with her. At least they were still moving.

  “Draw the pain away from him,” Drake mused. “You mean draw it into yourself, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “When he’s been hurt before, I’ve felt it. Apparently if I can manipulate our connection enough, I can make it so I feel it and he doesn’t. Which should clear his head enough to let him break free.”

  “Uh-huh.” Another block passed in silence.

  “And why do you think Eli wouldn’t let you do this?”

  “Because it’s dangerous.” Brigitte had been quite clear on just how dangerous it was. A fledgling of Henri’s age could manage the trick with minimal risk. But someone as young and inexperienced as Jez would almost certainly fry her brain in the process.

  “How dangerous?”

  “Dangerous enough that Eli would never let me do it.” And neither would Gabriel, if he had any idea what she was up to. She would have to convince him to open the psychic connection, then figure out how to siphon off his pain without him realizing it until it was too late.

  Drake stopped her with a hand on her arm, and she almost screamed in frustration.

  “Goddammit!” she said, trying to jerk out of his grip. No luck. “This is my decision to make. Not Eli’s, and certainly not yours!”

  “I’m not arguing,” Drake responded, though he didn’t release her arm. “If this is truly what you want to do, I won’t stand in your way. Even though I promised Gabriel to look after you and I don’t think this is quite what he meant.”

  She gaped at him. “When did this happen?”

  He ignored her question. “I just want to make sure you’ve thought it through. Do you think Gabriel would be happy to live at the cost of your life?”

  “No,” she admitted. How to explain to Drake something she wasn’t even sure she understood herself? She mulled it over for a moment, then answered. “But he deserves to have someone who loves him unconditionally. Who loves him enough to risk everything to save him.”

  Drake looked down at her gravely. “Maybe so. But if you die in the process, he won’t have you.”

  She raised her chin. “Then I’ll just have to make sure I don’t die.”

  He didn’t look happy. But he didn’t drag her back to Eli’s, either. “All right. I won’t stand in your way. And I’ll help you however I can.”

  Her smile was forced, but she gave herself an “A” for effort. “Great. You can keep the minions away from me while I try to pull this off. Brigitte says the closer I am, the more likely this’ll work, so I have to get too close for comfort.”

  “And you believe this Brigitte is telling you the truth?”

  He’d finally let go of her arm, so she started forward once again. “Yes, I do,” she said, remembering the satisfied glow in Brigitte’s eyes when she’d told Jez about the likely consequences of success.

  Jez was certain Gabriel wouldn’t team up with the psychotic little bitch even if Brigitte wasn’t directly responsible for her death. But she’d seen no reason to tell Brigitte that.

  Hoping that Drake wouldn’t change his mind, hoping that Eli wouldn’t sense her and interfere, hoping that Gabriel would let her in, Jezebel made her way toward the warehouse.

  25

  GABRIEL HAD NO IDEA how many days and nights had passed since Bartolomeo’s men had taken him. It seemed like an eternity.

  The mortals had gotten bored with tormenting him during the daytime, but so far Bartolomeo showed no signs of getting bored himself. Gabriel had thought himself a master of cruelty. He’d been a soft touch in comparison to Bartolomeo.

  Pain consumed his every waking moment. Sapped every ounce of his strength, reduced him from a quasi-human being to a mindless melange of skin, blood, and bones. The only good news was that Jez had not tried to contact him again. He still felt her there in his mind, still felt that connection between them, and it actually gave him comfort at times. But, thankfully, she had resisted the urge to share in his pain.

  Even as that thought occurred to him, he realized he “heard” her knocking on his mental doors. How long had that been going on? Everything about him felt sluggish, his reflexes, both mental and physical, almost non-existent.

  The pounding in his head grew more insistent. He didn’t want to let her in, but he had made her a promise. And even if he hadn’t, he didn’t think he had the strength to resist her for long.

  What is it, Jezebel?

  He felt her wave of relief before she spoke in his head.

  You scared me, she said. I thought you weren’t going to answer.

  I promised I would. Now, what is it?

  He could almost hear the deep breath she drew in. I thought you should know that Eli is on his way.

  Gabriel was sure he’d heard wrong. Or perhaps the pain was making him delusional. What?

  He’s on his way to get you out of there.

  Impossible! But even as he denied it, hope flared in him. Was it possible this pain would end soon? Even if Eli was coming to kill him, at this point Gabriel would thank him for it.

  I wouldn’t tell you that if it weren’t true. Her psychic voice softened. He loves you, Gabriel. The idea that they’re hurting you has practically driven him mad. And he’s not going to take it anymore.

  If that’s the case, get out of my head. There’s no reason for you to suffer. He tried a push on his mental doors, but he wasn’t surprised when Jez resisted.

  Hang on a minute! she protested. I told you I wouldn’t contact you just to chat. Eli might need some help. I need to stay in contact with you in case we need to send in the cavalry. He didn’t want anyone else in danger unless it was absolutely necessary.

  Why did that feel like a lie? He couldn’t imagine what reason Jez would have to lie to him at a time like this. He tried to probe into her mind, but the damn drug seemed to deaden that power as well as all his others. He supposed he was lucky he could even communicate with her.

  Then he realized why her words didn’t ring true.

  Why would Eli need help? he asked. He’s far more powerful than Camille and di Cesare, and their little minions are practically useless against a vampire of any significant age.

  She hesitated a moment, then rushed to cover up the hesitation. It’s a long story. One I can tell you when you get out of there. Let’s just say that Eli isn’t at full strength and leave it at that for now.

  He was about to question her some more, but he heard a sudden buzz from the assembled minions. He opened his eyes and looked around the darkened warehouse.

  Everyone was scurrying around frantically. Camille and di Cesare were arguing in low, urgent voices. Di Cesare insisting they needed to flee for their lives. Camille insisting it was too late and they needed to stand and fight.

  I guess he’s here, Gabriel said, feeling a sense of wonder under the oppressive blanket of pain.

  Good, Jez replied. But even with his sluggish, deadened senses, he felt the alarm that tingled through her.

  SHE HAD TO STAY calm, Jez reminded herself. Gabriel was getting suspicious, hearing nuances in her mental voice that she couldn’t mask. She didn’t dare let him feel her fear and turmoil, didn’t dare risk that he would close the doors between them.

  What’s everyone doing in there? she asked. She needed to keep him “talking” as she worked her way around his mind, trying to figure out how to siphon the pain away. Brigitte had said it was a visualization technique. Jez had to visualize Gabriel’s pain, and then draw it into her.

  Only, of course, it wasn’t as easy as that.
/>
  She only half-listened as Gabriel described the action in the warehouse. She kept trying to visualize his pain as a solid mass that she could reach out to and grab, but it wasn’t working. Frustration made her frantic.

  Jezebel! Gabriel’s voice was sharp in her head. What aren’t you telling me? What’s the matter?

  Nothing! Except the man I love is in danger and I’m relegated to sitting here on the sidelines.

  That shut him up. She hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t meant to remind him that she’d foolishly lost her heart. She felt the turmoil her words engendered, felt him struggle under the weight of the unspoken expectation that he’d admit to loving her too. But that was too much to ask of someone who couldn’t even love himself.

  She steadied her nerves and redoubled her efforts to visualize the pain. She had an image in her mind, an image of an amorphous black glob that surrounded Gabriel, clinging stubbornly to him. She reached out and tried to grab the blackness, but it turned to mist and her fingers passed right through it.

  What’s going on? Gabriel asked. Eli’s here, but he hasn’t neutralized anyone yet. Not even the mortals.

  Oh shit, she thought. She didn’t have much time. Eli might even now be trying to figure out how to use his telekinesis to set off the bombs.

  She didn’t have the time or the concentration to answer Gabriel’s question, so she ignored him, grabbing ever more frantically at the black mist that surrounded him. But it still wasn’t working.

  Panic threatened to overwhelm her, but she shoved it aside. There had to be something wrong with her visualization technique. Either that, or Brigitte had been feeding her a load of shit.

  Trying to ignore the time pressure and the increasing urgency of Gabriel’s demands for an explanation, she backed off for a moment and thought.

  When she reached into that cloud of blackness that surrounded Gabriel, her fingers passed straight through. She either had to change the way she was visualizing the pain, or she had to change the way she was trying to siphon it off.

  The answer clicked suddenly in her head. Siphon it off!

  In her mind’s eye, she saw herself sticking a straw into that black cloud and inhaling. And suddenly, the pain she’d been feeling from the moment she’d made contact with him grew worse.

  Jez? Gabriel’s voice was weak and uncertain in her mind. What’s happening?

  I love you, she told him again. Then she inhaled another lungful of pain.

  GABRIEL’S HEAD SPUN WITH confusion as the pain of the drug and of his healing wounds ebbed. Even the iron cuffs that held him chained to the whipping posts no longer seemed to burn as severely into his flesh.

  Jez was doing this, somehow. He felt certain of that, though he didn’t know how. And every instinct in his body told him she shouldn’t be, that it was dangerous.

  Jezebel! he howled, but she ignored him.

  Suddenly, the pain was gone. Completely. He tried reaching for Jez across their connection, but though he felt that fragile bond, he couldn’t seem to reach her.

  Practicality won out over concern, and he blinked the sweat from his eyes and looked around.

  Camille and di Cesare stood to one side, looking perplexed as their minions grappled with Eli. One mortal lay dead at Eli’s feet, his head twisted at an unnatural angle. As Gabriel watched, Eli lost his footing and went down hard, three vampires landing on top of him. He should have been able to shove them off with ease. And yet, he didn’t. One of the humans was readying a syringe.

  Gabriel didn’t wait any longer. His limbs still felt weak and sluggish, but his mind seemed to be all his. He used his telekinesis to unlock the cuffs. His legs trembled but held him as he eased away from the whipping posts.

  Neither Camille nor di Cesare had noticed that he was free, their attention entirely focused on the struggle with Eli. Gabriel risked a glance in that direction and saw the mortal plunge the needle into Eli’s shoulder. A slow smile spread on Gabriel’s face as his strength continued to return. Just as well to have Eli out for the count. That meant Gabriel got to have all the fun.

  Eli went still, and the three vamps who’d been holding him down rose to their feet, looking terribly pleased with themselves. Gabriel would have liked to have taken his time with them, paid them back at least in part for the misery they’d caused him, and for the atrocities they’d committed on the mortal child. But even with whatever Jez was doing to help him, he wasn’t at full strength, and he didn’t know how long the reprieve would last. Best to finish things up quickly.

  The oldest of the three vamps was only two hundred. None of the three of them could resist Gabriel’s glamour. He froze two of them where they stood, then bade the third to snap their necks. Gabriel then sent him after the remaining mortal helpers as he turned his attention to Camille and di Cesare.

  They’d noticed him finally. Lowering his fangs, he took a step toward them. Both of them backed up, eyes wide and unbelieving. Camille’s face had drained of all color. Di Cesare snarled and tried to look fierce, but like most bullies he was a terrible coward and was practically pissing himself.

  Gabriel smiled at Camille. “Don’t go anywhere, Mother. I want a word with you.”

  Then, he leapt at di Cesare, who turned and tried to flee. Gabriel didn’t even bother using glamour to stop him. Di Cesare hadn’t gotten more than three steps before Gabriel slammed into him and knocked him to the floor. Di Cesare struggled wildly, limbs flailing, the stink of his fear heavy in the air as his glamour beat helplessly against Gabriel’s mental shields. Gabriel grabbed his head.

  “This is so much quicker than you deserve,” he growled. Then, with a hard jerk of his hands, he broke the Killer’s neck. Di Cesare went limp.

  Behind him, Gabriel felt Camille trying to run away, but he seized her with his glamour, keeping her still until he was ready to face her. Brushing off his hands, he rose slowly and turned toward her.

  All the malice, all the gloating pride, had faded from her countenance. Tears snaked down her cheeks, and she was actually trembling. Gabriel stalked toward her, ignoring the sounds of scuffling coming from the far end of the room. He’d have thought the battle there would be over by now, that the fledgling he’d compelled would now be coming to his senses and either charging at Gabriel or running for his life.

  But he’d take care of that later.

  Camille swallowed hard. “All I wanted was to go home to Paris,” she said in a shaking voice.

  Gabriel sneered. “Yes, I could see you were really heartbroken at the price you had to pay for admission.”

  “I didn’t have a choice! He would have killed me if I hadn’t promised to give you to him.”

  He laughed. Did she actually think there was a chance in the world he was going to buy her pathetic excuses? What di Cesare had done to him might not have been her idea, but she had never once uttered a word of protest.

  She held up both her hands to ward him off. “Please, my son. Let us come to some kind of … agreement.”

  Gabriel spat, her groveling leaving a nasty taste in his mouth. “You have nothing I could possibly want,” he said.

  She turned and tried to run. Gabriel took two steps in pursuit, then blinked in confusion to see Eli appear seemingly out of nowhere. Camille saw him at the same moment, screaming shrilly.

  And that was when Gabriel saw the sword in his father’s hands. A sword he knew all too well himself. A sword he could have sworn Eli hadn’t been carrying when he first arrived.

  The sword sang through the air. Moments later, Camille crumpled to the warehouse floor. Her body landed in an undignified heap. And her head rolled to a stop about five feet away.

  Gabriel stood frozen, staring at his mother’s head, at the look of surprise and terror on her face. Then, swallowing hard, he raised his gaze to Eli and the bloody sword.

  For one long moment, father and son met each other’s gaze. Gabriel braced himself for the assault of Eli’s glamour. Eli had let him live once before and had come to regre
t it. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, though Gabriel was damned if he’d go down without a fight. He clenched his fists, wishing he had a weapon to counter that sword.

  Eli opened his mouth as if to say something. Then, he vanished, leaving Gabriel to stand gaping like a fool.

  WHEN JEZEBEL HAD COLLAPSED, Drake had done his best to revive her, gently slapping her cheeks and shaking her. Nothing seemed to be working, though her pulse was strong and her breathing steady.

  He didn’t sense any vampires coming their way on the attack, but he also didn’t see any point in leaving her lying here helpless as they waited for the outcome of the battle.

  Hoping he was doing the right thing, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her back to Eli’s.

  When he arrived back at the mansion, he found Eli conscious, but exhausted. He explained what Jezebel had done—at least, he explained it as best he could. He expected Eli to give him hell for letting her risk her life, but the Founder merely instructed him to take her upstairs and tuck her into her bed.

  “I didn’t hear an explosion,” Drake said before he turned to go. “Is Gabriel … ?”

  Eli’s eyes looked far away. “He’s alive. The others are all dead.”

  Drake wanted to ask for more details, but he suspected they wouldn’t be forthcoming.

  GABRIEL HAD NEVER FELT so exhausted in all his long life. Apparently, it was adrenaline that had fueled him for the last few minutes, because now that the danger had passed, his knees wobbled beneath him.

  Sure that he should be getting the hell out of here as fast as possible, he nonetheless took a seat on the floor before he fell down. The air reeked of blood. And of fear.

  He stared at his hands. Most of his fingers were in some state of partial regrowth. Even the one he’d lost tonight had healed over. In a few days, his hands would be whole again. He closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath despite the stink.