Page 5 of Illusory (The Marked Saga #8)

4. IN THE SHADOW OF DOUBT

With the whole of my heart lodged somewhere in the middle of my throat, I flew out of my chair and chased after my sister as she barreled down the hallway like a drill sergeant from hell. The last thing I needed was Tessa inserting her nose into my business with Trace and making him even more angry and distant from me than he already was.

Just the thought of her forcing him to play nice with me made me want to wither away and die from humiliation.

“Tessa! Stop!” I yelled, running after her as she headed for the basement door with absolutely no intention of slowing down. The closer she got, the louder my heart screamed, ringing between my ears as though a bomb had gone off inside my head. “Would you just give me a minute!” I shrieked, grabbing her by the elbow and then yanking her back before she could turn the door handle.

“A minute for what?” she growled as she spun around to face me. Her expression was all kinds of pursed and puckered, but she somehow still managed to look effortlessly beautiful. “This isn’t the time for idiotic love spats, Jemma. Everything is on the line right now and we need his help.”

“I know that, and I’m sure he’s going to help, but just…just give him a minute to adjust for fuck’s sake!” My voice was unnaturally high on the tail end as though slowly being choked by my own nerves.

She folded her arms and arched her brow at me. “He’s already had several minutes.”

“You know what I mean,” I bit out and then wiped the sweat from my forehead. “This just happened to him—without his permission or memory. He needs time to sit with it,” I argued, though truth be told, I wasn’t sure he’d ever really have enough time to come to terms with what we’d done to him. And by we , I meant me and my reckless future self. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow. I promise I will. Just please, let him have tonight.”

She mulled it over, her gaze flicking back to the basement door as though she were contemplating how quickly she could run it down with me still standing in her way.

“It’s one measly night, Tess. It won’t change anything for us. Please .”

She blew out a breath of frustration and then relaxed her shoulders. “Fine. But if you don’t get it done first thing tomorrow morning, I will. And believe me, he’s not going to like my approach if I have to be the one to do it.”

“I mean, with all that charm you have shooting out of your ass, I’m sure he’s going to hop right on board,” I mumbled sarcastically and then rolled my eyes at her.

“You better hope he does, Jem. Because we need that damn book.” The feral desperation in her eyes sobered me as quickly as flicking off a light switch. She was scared… for me . “I’ve gone through so many texts and journals over the past few weeks that I don’t even know which side is up anymore. And none of them—not a single one—had anything about the Horsemen,” she said grimly and then shook her head like we had already lost the battle. “The Sang Noir is our last chance. It’s our only chance.”

“I know,” I said as I rubbed the chill from my arms. I knew as much as she did that we were running out of options and time, but we still needed to keep our heads on straight. We couldn’t go into this with a defeatist attitude, or we’d never stand a chance against any one of our enemies. “We’ll get it, Tessa. I’ll get it,” I amended, hating the way her eyes sang with worry and hopelessness. I wasn’t used to seeing my sister frazzled like this, and frankly, I really didn’t care for it.

“And what if we don’t?” she asked in a hushed whisper, as though worried that someone might overhear her concern and figure out her weakness. That they’d somehow see through the thin facade she wore and hit her where it hurt the most. Me .

“Then we’ll get rid of them the old-fashioned way. By kicking their antique asses into their next life,” I said and then fixed a sweet-as-pie smile on my face.

She couldn’t help but smile at that. “You and which army?”

I shrugged it off like it was nothing. “I’ll build one if I have to.”

“That easy, huh?”

“Probably not, but I’m going to keep living in my fantasy world until I have no other choice.”

“ You would ,” she shot back, and we both broke out into laughter at that.

I mean, she wasn’t wrong, and at least she wasn’t teetering around the deep end anymore. Mission accomplished.

When our laughter trickled off, I picked up her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, my expression turning more serious then. “We can do this, Tess. I know we can. We just need to stick together and fight smarter than them. If anyone can do it, it’s us . We’re fucking Blackburns for crying out loud.”

A spark of fire ignited in her eyes at my words, prompting her to release the breath she’d been holding. “You really think we can do this—take down the Horsemen? The Council?”

“We still have the upper hand. They have no idea what cards we’re holding. They don’t know what we’re planning to do or which side we’re even playing for. They’re completely in the dark which puts us in the prime position to pick them off one by one,” I said, reminding her of our earlier discussion. “We may not be strong enough to face off against them all together right now, but if we weaken them—if we cut out their legs from under them and chip away at their defenses, we can strike when they’re most vulnerable. They’ll never see us coming. And we can do that with or without the Sang Noir.”

“I like the way you think. This might just be crazy enough to work,” she mused, her eyes darkening with schemes aplenty before she fixed me with a poignant look. “When the hell did you get all grown up anyway?”

“Right?” It felt good to have a plan and some confidence to back it up for once. I may not have had any idea what to do about Trace and Dominic or where I stood with either of them, but at least I could focus on making my enemies burn for what they’d done to our family.

“But we’re still getting that book,” she added pointedly.

“Hell yeah we are,” I agreed, mostly because William and the rest of the Council were the very last people on earth I wanted to be in possession of a book as powerful as The Sang Noir. And then I frowned as reality knocked against my head once again. “Well, providing I can actually get into Temple undetected.”

That was a tall order for anyone, let alone for someone as inconsistent with their magical abilities as I was.

“Oh, you will,” she said without a flicker of doubt in her words, like it was already in the bag. “I’m starting to think you’re in an even better position to do this than Trace would’ve been.”

That seemed like a bit of a stretch. “And how you do figure that?”

“For one, the Council has no reason to even suspect you since they have no idea about this ability. You’ve never been tagged the way other Reapers have so you’re not going to trip off any of their wards.”

My mind spooled back to that conversation I had with Trace last year about how the Council controlled his time-traveling ability. Not only did they monitor his movements on the Timeline, but they’d also used threats of Bounding him to keep him in line. He’d needed the help of Nikki’s magic back then just to be able to take me to the past to visit my father without tipping the entire Order off.

“Maybe we’ll even get lucky and find something about the Son of Perdition in there too,” continued Tessa, bringing me back to the present conversation. “I don’t see how we’re going to be able to get within a mile of Nikki’s house with all the demons converging over there. We’re going to need another way in.”

My stomach abruptly soured at the subject.

“I’m thinking we could try porting there too, but I doubt that would work with the little devil-baby-incubator on the inside,” she went on, plotting to herself out loud. “I’m sure she’s put up some iron-clad magical barrier, if not several. We might have to do that the old-fashioned way too,” she said and then tweaked her eyebrows mischievously like she was hoping for it.

“Right.” I couldn’t seem to summon the same level of excitement that she had about that particular situation. Every time I thought about it, my mind arrived at the same, nagging question. “And then what?” I asked, unable to shake off the awful, skin-crawling feeling that had broken out across my body.

Her forehead furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“What exactly are we planning on doing once we bulldoze our way in there? Are we actually talking about killing a baby? Because you know that’s what he is, right?”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” she hissed, looking wholly repulsed by my summary. “This isn’t a normal, human baby, Jemma. This is Lucifer’s spawn.”

“Yeah…” I chewed the inside of my cheek. “But so am I… aren’t I?”

She blinked at me for a beat. “No. That’s different.”

“How so?”

“Because you…you’re not…he’s like…” She couldn’t manage to produce a single complete sentence.

I raised my brows, still waiting.

“Look, it just is, okay? This is The Son of Perdition, Jemma. ‘ The Dark One’ ,” she continued, using air quotes as though that might help differentiate the baby from me. “There’s been prophecies about him since the dawn of time. The bringer of the end of days. The destroyer of mankind. The purveyor of war between heaven and hell.”

“There were prophecies about me, too,” I reminded her gently. “Or have you forgotten that The Order’s been trying to wipe me out of existence from the moment they found out I was alive? And that’s only because they think I’m a distant Descendant of Lucifer. Imagine what they would have done to me if they’d found out just how short my bloodline actually is.”

She crossed her arms, refusing to give me an inch. “What’s your point?”

“My point is that they were wrong about me.”

“Well, you did open the Hell Gates,” she answered flatly.

I tried and failed not to cringe at that. “Okay, fine, but not because I’m evil or because I’d wanted to release Lucifer from Hell. That was never my intention. I was tricked into it.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the thing about prophecies, Jemma. They have a habit of coming true regardless of your intentions.”

“But that still doesn’t make me guilty of anything other than being alive . And as far as I’m concerned, neither is this baby. He’s done nothing wrong except to exist , and I don’t see how that automatically warrants him a death sentence,” I said, shaking my head at the injustice of it. “Doesn’t he deserve a chance to be born, to grow up and choose his path like the rest of us? Like me? Or are you saying I should have been killed off before I was born too?”

“Of course not,” she bit out as though I was being ridiculous. “Because your birth didn’t summon The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. That right there should tell you something.”

“But I’m the one that set it all in motion,” I reminded her. “If I’d never been born, none of this would have ever happened in the first place. Lucifer would never have been released from his tomb, and this baby would be nothing more than a scary story Descendants tell each other around the campfire. Doesn’t that make me just as culpable if not more?”

She didn’t say anything then, and I knew she was thinking about it.

“We both know the Order would have stopped at nothing for the chance to eliminate me if they could have—if they’d known about me—just like they’re doing with him now,” I said, knowing this without the slightest shadow of a doubt. “For all we know, they’re the ones who summoned the Horsemen here in the first place.”

She scratched her neck as she tried to come up with an answer to that fairly valid possibility. “Even if they did, they must know something we don’t,” she finally decided.

“Or maybe they’re lying about the whole thing. Maybe they’re just afraid of what they don’t know. Maybe they’re just fucking terrified of anything that has the potential to be stronger than they are. Just like they were with me.”

She appeared to be considering it, but I could still see the hesitation in her eyes. “And what if you’re wrong? What if he is completely and innately evil? Are you willing to allow that kind of dark, unmatchable power to be released into the world, knowing you could have stopped it before it even started?”

And now it was my turn to be startled into silence.

Was I willing to take that risk?

“I…I don’t know,” I answered truthfully because I truly didn’t know. My gut told me that something was off here; that The Order couldn’t be trusted. That their intentions had always proven to be self-serving and that this time would be no different. But was I willing to stake all of our lives on it?

“Well, you better figure out where you stand, Jemma, and you better do it fast because you won’t be able to unring this bell once he’s born,” she warned, her voice reverberating in my mind like a gong. “The only thing I know for sure is that there’s going to be blood on your hands either way. It’s time you figure out who’s blood you’re willing to live with,” she said and then walked away from me, leaving me standing there with a noose-like knot in my throat and the entire weight of the world resting heavy on my shoulders.

Gabriel was sitting alone at the kitchen, drumming his thumb against the solid oak wood, as though he’d been patiently waiting for me to return when I’d made my way back to the kitchen after my talk with Tessa. The room was eerily quiet and dark, save for the stove light that softly illuminated the side of his face from a distance. A face that appeared perturbed and weighted down in quiet contemplation.

I hesitated at the doorway.

I wasn’t sure I was ready to take on yet another tense conversation, or worse still, more bad news, and judging by his drooping shoulders and the low hanging angle of his head, that was almost certainly what he had in store for me.

He looked up and met my eyes, quickly ending any chance I may have had of an escape.

“How did it go with Tessa?” he asked, his eyebrows drawn together with unease as he watched me walk over to the table and then pull out a chair beside him.

“It went as well as could be expected,” I said and then shrugged it off, hoping he’d leave it at that. He of all people knew how excitable my sister could get when it came to matters of business and, well, me .

“I take it she agreed to hold off on enlisting Trace’s help,” he surmised, seeing that we weren’t currently down in the basement demanding Trace get over his life-changing trauma and help the two of us out instead. As Tessa would’ve had it.

“Barely,” I said and then sighed. “She gave me a day.”

“Well. That might be a new record for her.” The corner of his lip twitched as though he wanted to smile but decided not to, considering the circumstances.

“How is he doing?” I asked quietly, my heart lurching at the mere mention of Trace’s name. At the thought of him going through this alone.

I hated that I couldn’t be the one to be there for him—that he wouldn’t let me. It was taking everything I had not to run to the basement right then and there and throw myself down at his feet. If I had thought for even a minute that it was what he wanted or needed , that it would make any of this even the slightest bit better for him, I would have already been there. But I knew that it wasn’t. I’d felt it in my heart. I’d seen it in the awful way he had looked at me.

“It’s still very early…” He eyed me carefully, as though assessing the level of truth I could handle. “But he’s doing quite well,” he finally answered, his dark hair sweeping down into his brows as he dipped his head in a nod.

I shot him a look that said bullshit .

“He’s doing as well as can be expected,” he amended, his moss-green eyes roving over me with apprehension, as though half expecting me to self-destruct at even the whisper of truth. “It’s a lot to take in…controlling the bloodlust, adjusting to all his heightened senses. These things take time. It’s not going to happen overnight, but he will get there eventually.”

Right. Eventually .

Despite not feeling even an iota of relief at his words, I managed to hold it together. “Did he say anything…about me?” I asked and then squirmed at my selfish question. Because this really wasn’t about me. I knew that. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to strike the question from the record and instead allowed it to dangle in the air between us like a desperate prayer to the heavens.

“He hasn’t said much of anything really. This is still all very new for him.” He shifted in his chair, appearing wholly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken.

I was obviously putting him in an awkward position and needed to drop the subject immediately. It was the right thing to do. The appropriate thing. “Does he hate me? He must hate me,” I said instead, unable to leave it the hell alone.

“Of course he doesn’t hate you.”

Hope swelled in my chest like a balloon, like a lifeline meant to pull me out from the hole of despair I was wading in. “Really? Did he say that?”

His lips parted on a failed reply. “Well… no , not exactly those words,” he finally admitted, and my shoulders promptly dropped at his answer. “But he doesn’t need to say it, Jemma. You already know how he feels about you.”

“Yeah, well, that was before I turned him into the living undead . I’m sure his feelings for me have changed a little bit since then,” I added and then pressed my fingertips into my eyes, trying to erase the memory of his cold, vicious eyes glaring at me. “You saw what happened, Gabriel. He wouldn’t even talk to me.”

“If it’s any consolation, he isn’t talking to me very much either,” he offered and then covered my hand with his own as if to console me in some small way. After everything that happened, I really didn’t feel deserving of the gesture but found myself taking solace in it just the same.

“So, he hates all of us,” I concluded, not feeling any better about that or the prospect of Trace being completely isolated and alone in this. Unease crept under my skin as I met his eyes again. “He doesn’t still think you had anything to do with Turning him, does he?” I needed to be sure that Gabriel wasn’t stuck carrying any of the blame for what had happened to Trace. The fault was mine alone and I needed to be sure Trace understood that.

He shook his head and then withdrew his hand from mine, taking my momentary comfort right along with him. “He’s just angry at the world right now and needs someone to take it out on. It’s best not to take it personal,” he said, as though that were even remotely a possibility. “You have to understand, the man he knew himself to be is gone and he’s slowly coming to the realization that he will never be that person again. That alone is difficult for anyone to accept. Even more so for someone like Trace.”

Someone who had never wanted this life for himself.

Someone who loathed vampires with every cell of his being.

My chest squeezed into a painful knot and then stuttered into a slow, agonizing death as the reality of the situation crashed down on me all at once. “He’s never going to forgive me for this.” Of that, I was sure. I’d finally gone and done it: I’d broken the Reaper’s back.

“He will .”

I scrunched my nose at the reek of his bald-faced lie.

“It’s going to take some time for him to adjust to this, to regain control of his faculties, but he will get there, Jemma, and with time, he’ll have the clarity of mind to understand why you had to do it,” he said and then searched my face for a beat before adding, “He may even thank you for it.”

I scoffed at the absurdity of it. “ Right . Somehow, I don’t ever see that happening,” I said, remembering how angry and afraid and disgusted he had been with me. I’d never seen him look or speak to me the way he had in that moment and the memory of it had all but burned itself into my brain like scar tissue.

And I still didn’t blame him for it.

Tears scorched the corners of my eyes as I wondered how I would have felt if the situation had been reversed and it was Trace or Dominic that had Turned me without my permission. Would it sting less to know that they’d done it to save my life? I honestly wasn’t sure.

“What about you? How are you holding up with everything?” he asked softly, his eyes sweeping over me as if to assess the damage. His gaze paused on my bandages, and he frowned.

“It’s fine,” I answered offhandedly. “It’s already healing.” As bad as Trace’s bite had been, the physical wounds on my body couldn’t hold a flame to the ones ravaging my heart. I’d take a million attacks to the jugular if it meant I didn’t have to feel this other pain anymore. The emotional pain. The agony of it was nearly unbearable, like a knife twisting incessantly at your insides with no end in sight.

“Do you mind if I take a look?” he asked, his brows still creased with worry. I already knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew for sure that I was healing properly. Gabriel was nothing if not thorough when it came to these things. Possibly even slightly neurotic.

“Knock yourself out,” I said and then slapped away the lone tear that had slipped down my cheek without my permission.

Gabriel stilled, his eyes pinned to the wet streak along my cheek as though hypnotized by the sight of it. The way he was staring, you’d think he’d never seen someone cry before.

Squirming under the weight of his stare, I reached up and grabbed the top of the bandage before wrenching it off my skin, drawing his gaze back down to my neck and away from the tear that had practically taken over his life.

He cleared his throat and then leaned forward to gently prod the skin around my wound, assiduously examining the cavernous bite mark and the area around it. He was quiet for a long while and I took the opportunity to let my eyes slip shut and work on shoving my unshed tears and sadness back down into the pit of my stomach, wishing I could bury them there for good.

Not that there was anything wrong with crying. I’d done more than my fair share of it during my short life, and after the last couple of days I’d had, crying seemed like just about the only natural thing to do at this point. But I still didn’t want to, and especially not in front of Gabriel.

“It’s healing nicely,” he informed as he carefully reapplied the bandage to my neck, making sure the marred wound was fully covered and hidden from sight. “Despite the severity of it,” he added more quietly, as if to not call attention to the fact that Trace had practically severed my neck from my head.

“I guess he doesn’t quite have the same finesse that Dominic has, huh?” I muttered darkly and then sank a little deeper into my despair. This was completely not the time for jokes. Nor was it the time to be thinking about Dominic and his full-of-finesse bites.

“No. Not quite,” he agreed, his expression somewhat shuddered as though he were hiding deeper truths just below the surface. “Have you two had a chance to speak since you released him?”

I swallowed roughly as my mind flitted back to Dominic and our last conversation. “I think it’s safe to say he doesn’t want all that much to do with me either at this point.” Just saying the words out loud made my chest tighten like the room was slowly being robbed of air. “I mean, I guess I deserve it. I did lock him in my basement and starve him half to death. I’m sure he has some feelings about that.”

“Is that what he said?” asked Gabriel, his brows banding together as though he didn’t believe it. As though the very idea of Dominic being crossed with me was completely preposterous to him.

But he hadn’t seen what I’d seen.

“He didn’t have to,” I answered and then met his querying eyes. “I could feel it.” The anger and contempt radiating off Dominic had practically choked me from across the room.

“Jemma,” he said, shaking his head at my assertion. “I very highly doubt —”

“Or maybe he’s just not into chicks with wings, you know? Heathers with feathers aren’t for everyone,” I went on, unable to listen to Gabriel’s minimization of what I’d felt and seen with my own eyes. “Not that I blame him. Pretty sure they both think I’m a complete freak of nature now.”

The truth was, I’d always suspected there was something off about me, even jokingly called myself a circus freak once or twice, but if ever there had been any doubt before, it was all cleared up now. I was a literal abomination of the highest fucking order.

“No one thinks you’re a freak of nature,” he said with the kind of certainly he had no business having. “Emotions were running high for everyone. A lot has happened over the last few days. I’m sure the dust will settle come morning.”

“Sure,” I said, knowing in my heart of hearts that it wouldn’t.

Come morning, I was still going to be the Nephilim freak who had locked away the man she loved in a basement prison while allowing the other one to be turned into a vampire. And I’d still have the wings …black ones…hiding but ever-present like an insignia of the corrupted blood that ran hotly through my veins.

Come morning, there would be no more running away from the truth. No more escaping its jagged claws with vaporous bouts of denial. I was Lucifer’s daughter, black wings and all, and now everyone would know it.

The Daughter of Hades. Princess of Darkness. In the fucking flesh.

A familiar thickness swelled at the back of my throat as though my despair were trying to squeeze its way back up again. All I could see was their horrified, frozen expressions and the way they’d gaped at me as the devil’s mark was made flesh right out from my bones.

“Things were already bad enough without the giant wings busting out of my back. I can’t even imagine how disturbing I must’ve looked,” I rasped, the scene replaying in my mind’s eye like a silent movie. My gaze cut away, shaking my head at the horror of it all. At the sheer humiliation.

Gabriel looked at me strangely, his lips tremulous as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t manage to wrestle the words out. “Whatever it is you’re thinking…about yourself…I assure you, it’s not that,” he finally said, the apples of his cheeks darkening at his maundering words.

“Right,” I said as I squinted back at him and then blinked a few times, trying to understand what that even meant. “Well, thanks…I think,” I added warily, assuming that somewhere in that mess of a sentence, he was most likely trying to say something to make me feel better. Because that was what Gabriel always did.

Not that his kind sentiments made a lick of difference. I knew what I’d seen—what I’d felt. Something had changed between me and Dominic, shifted irreversibly, and it wasn’t for the better.

“Maybe he just doesn’t feel the same way about me anymore,” I went on, quieter then, dejected, as though the weight of the words were too heavy for my tongue to lift. “Maybe his feelings for me just reset back to null and void when Pricilla shut his emotions off, and I was just too wrapped up in the moment the other night to realize—” My stomach felt as though it had dropped out of my body as the words sounded back to me.

I hadn’t even considered that being a possibility until the moment I’d said it out loud.

“My god, Gabriel. What if that’s it? What if his feelings for me didn’t actually come back? What if he was just responding the way any normal male would respond in that kind of situation?”

Gabriel started to shake his head as though that wasn’t possible but then seemed to stop mid-shake.

The sight of it only strengthened the bottomless feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like I was endlessly falling with no view of the ground in sight. Had I been too caught up in the moment the night we’d slept together to see the truth? Had I simply seen what I’d wanted to see?

The more the thought ruminated in my mind, the more it made sense to me and the worse I felt about…well, everything. Why else had he been so cold with me? So distant and quick to leave?

I dropped my face into my hands and shook my head. How could I be so stupid as to think that one romp in the prison cell sack was proof enough that he was back—that his feelings for me were back? I’d been half naked and grinding myself against him. Literal chum in the water. Any man in that position would have taken the bait, regardless of their feelings.

I wasn’t sure what was worse at that point: Emotionless Dominic being secretly controlled by his demon, or him simply not having feelings for me anymore.

“I think it’s best not to jump to any conclusions until you have a chance to talk with him,” suggested Gabriel, probably because he could already see me spiraling off into worst-case-scenario territory.

“I think it might be a bit too late for that,” I answered bitterly as I pushed my hands through my hair.

How had this even happened? How the hell had everything gotten so thoroughly and exquisitely fucked up with both of them? Only I would be able to go from having the impossible task of choosing between two perfect men to having neither of them in the span of twenty-four hours. Because I was just that much of a dumbass.

“A lot has happened. You’re overwhelmed and tired and haven’t slept since—” He paused to think about it. “When was the last time you slept?”

“How can I possibly sleep when literally everything I care about is blowing up in my face, and I don’t know how to fix any of it?” I asked frantically, instead of answering his question since I had no actual idea when the last time I’d slept was either.

“Well, it isn’t going to become any clearer to you if you’re sleep deprived. You know that as much as I do.”

Again. Not a fact I wanted to consider at the moment.

“I hate this so much,” I said, trying to keep the tremor from my voice. “I hate not being there for Trace. I hate not knowing if Dominic is okay.” And most of all, I hated not knowing if they still felt the same way about me, but I couldn’t even say that part out loud. It was too embarrassing. Too pathetic.

“Get some rest, Jemma. I promise things will look better in the morning.”

I couldn’t fathom how he could make such a promise, but in that moment, I clung to it like the lifeline I needed.

I stood from the chair and started to turn before hesitating. “Will you stay with him tonight?” I asked, gutted that I even had to ask—that I couldn’t be the one to be there for Trace. “Someone needs to keep an eye on him. If he freaks out and leaves and does something…” I shook my head, unable to even think it out loud. “He’d never be able to forgive himself.”

“It’s already taken care of.” He bowed his head in a nod.

I could feel the weight already being lifted from my shoulders. “Thank you, Gabriel…for everything.”

For being my rock when everything was crumbling around me. For easing my load whenever it got to be too heavy for me to carry. For looking at me the same way he always had, despite my freaky ass bird wings …

I stared back at him, wishing I could say all of those things and more. For some reason though, my lips refused to commit, too afraid of what else the words might drudge up.

“Don’t mention it. It’s nothing,” he said, brushing it off as he always did when I tried to thank him.

“It’s not nothing, Gabriel. Seriously. Right now, it…it’s everything.” I leaned down and trapped him in an unexpected hug and then chuckled as he immediately tensed beneath me. “You’re the best Handler a girl could ever ask for,” I whispered and then kissed him on the cheek before pulling back.

“ Jemma …” He caught my wrist and held it, keeping me there beside him. His eyes frantically searching mine, mining them for some sort of connection or understanding or…something.

I waited for him to speak, to say whatever it was that was on his mind, but he didn’t say anything more. And something inside me told me it was better that way.

“Goodnight, Gabriel,” I said softly and then straightened. Gently, I pulled my wrist free from his hold and then left the kitchen, leaving the unspoken words floating in the air like fragile petals caught in the endless wind, wondering if they’d ever make it to the place they belonged.