"Father in heaven."
He fell forward, caught by soft, tender hands, shushed by a sweet voice. And when he dared open his eyes, he looked into those of the one he had been sent to kill, the one of whom all the others were but pale copies.
"Orson," she said, her little pink tongue peeping out from between sharp, white teeth. "I have been waiting for you."
Nick had never walked around inside a really good antique shop. Like jewelry stores and chick boutiques, they were not comfort zones for her. Also, the people who worked in them viewed girls in leather jackets with the same enthusiasm they usually afforded SpongeBob SquarePants.
Shame, because this place was nice. A real showcase location, with wide, asymmetrical aisles swirling around little islands of furniture and display cases of jewelry and old silver. Framed paintings of different sizes hung in neat rows across the golden oak walls, and a truckload of crystal and stained-glass chandeliers dangled from the high paneled ceilings.
Nick might have to live underground, like a garden mole, but she could still appreciate the finer things most people could never afford.
Gabriel probably had stuff like this at his place before the holy freaks stole it. She bent over to inspect a five-strand pearl choker that had been strung about the same time the Titanic sank. It's what he's used to.
Nick felt odd, and straightened to look around the shop. She'd had the forest dream so often that she'd come to expect it, not something like this. She didn't care about old, pricey junk. She had plenty of it stashed in her place, but it had never done anything for her. She'd tried to sell it a dozen times, but every time, almost at the last minute before she packed it up and took it to her fence, something stopped her. The special things, the treasures she kept in the room next to hers, they weren't hers, but she had to keep them. Watch over them.
Sometimes Nick wondered if she had lost her marbles ten years ago and just never realized it.
She saw an old book sitting on a table. It had a silver symbol on the blue fabric cover, a shape that resembled a fat 69. Yin and yang? In dreams, a person wasn't supposed to be able to read; the letters got all jumbled. She eased the cover open, and flipped, but the gilt-edged pages were all blank.
No story. She closed the book. What kind of book has no story in it? Maybe it was a photo album of some kind. Or am I supposed to write the story? She chuckled. She was no writer.
Nick moved on to the next display, a traditional ornate tea service, and checked her reflection in the polished tray. The solid silver informed her that her dye had worn off again and her hair was back to two shades of blond darker than white. She really needed a shampoo and cut. Maybe she'd go black this time. She was tired of mud brown.
I like you this way.
She looked toward the voice and saw the Green Man sitting behind a waist-high cherry-wood keyhole desk where he was using a soft cloth to wipe dust from some fussy statuette.
"What do you know?" she asked. "You have pine needles for hair."
True. He shook out the cloth, draping it over the piece. Do you truly love him, Nicola?
He was talking about Gabriel. "I do. But I can't. I'm not good enough for him."
You were good enough to find him, and save him, and to tell him the truth. He came around the counter and walked toward her. Mottled green burn scars covered his body, and as her gaze shifted up she saw blond-streaked brown hair instead of pine needles, and Gabriel's green eyes fixed on her. It's time. You know what you have to do now.
"I can't."
The shadows around the truth are what keep you apart. Tell him. One of his/Gabriel's hands lifted toward a chandelier that was a hanging waterfall of prismatic crystal. Show him. Trust in my love.
Dimensions changed. The high ceilings began to drop, and the aisles narrowed. Either Nick had begun a very belated growth spurt, or Antique World was starting to shrink.
At least now she knew it was a dream, and she could wake up. And she tried to, but the nightlands wouldn't let her go.
I cannot live in the dark anymore. He spoke so low that she could barely hear him now. Bring me into the light. Be with me in it. Let me see you as you are.
"You're—he's—blind. I can't." Nick swiveled, looking for an exit. There wasn't any. A porcelain pitcher and basin bumped into her hip, fell over, and smashed. If she stayed here, she was going to end up a sardine. "How do I get out of here?"
You know the way.
Nick ducked to keep her skull from ramming into the roof, and then something cracked the shop in half and split it open like an eggshell. The whole place fell away from her as she sat up, alone in bed.
"Gabriel?"
Nick rolled out of bed and crossed the room, stopping in the doorway. Gabriel was sitting on the floor with her lantern, holding one of the old books in his hands.
He glanced up at her, and she saw that the strange green glow had vanished from his eyes. As she shifted her weight, his eyes followed her movements.
Blind eyes didn't move like that.
"You can see." He nodded, and a crushing, unseen weight she hadn't known she'd been carrying fell away. It was replaced almost at once by one twice as heavy. "When did this happen?"
"My eyes began healing the night we first made love." He closed the book and reverently set it aside before standing and looking down at her. "Your hair is white."
"I told you it was." She touched it before she ducked her head. "I'm sorry."
"Why did you lie to me about keeping all these things?" He gestured around him. "Did you fear that I would steal them from you?"
"No. I just… couldn't. It's hard to explain." She tried to think of reasonable excuses, but her brain wasn't working anymore. "I'm sorry."
"I want to know the truth about you." He started walking toward her.
That was what the Green Man hadn't understood in the dream, what he had been trying to warn her of. But she couldn't tell him, couldn't tell anyone. With a sob she ran around him, dodging his hands and rushing out through the opening in the wall.
Nick didn't know where she was running to, but her feet did. They took her up through the house and out into her mother's rose garden. There she found herself standing over two patches of ground, carefully tended pools of delicate green grass. As the tears spilled down her face, hundreds of butterflies swirled up out of the surrounding flowers and hedges. Nick stood still, unwilling to hurt them with a careless touch. They began landing on her hands and arms, fairy creatures of every color in the rainbow, covering her with their wings.
The butterflies flew off as Gabriel came to stand beside her. "Don't be afraid of me, Nicola. I love you."
"I'm not afraid." She stared down at the ground. "I'm a thief and I'm a liar, the things you hate the most, but I'm not a coward."
"I'm not blind anymore," Gabriel murmured, turning her toward him. "I can see your face now. I can look into your eyes. I know what you feel, because I feel the same for you. There's no need to keep hiding behind more lies."
She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "I don't know how to be any other way."
"Tell me the rest of it."
"There's not much more to tell." She turned around, hugging herself with her arms. "My parents were murdered here ten years ago. I buried the bodies and went away for a while. When I came back, I made everyone think that they had moved to America." She wandered away from the blank space in the garden.
Gabriel came with her and put his arm around her. "You found the Templar treasures while you were looking for the Madonna."
She nodded. "I'm good at finding things. Everything but her."
He brushed the hair back from her brow. "These objects that you have collected, they all belonged to Templars who rose to become Darkyn."
"I didn't know that. They just… felt different. Like things that needed to be guarded. I only wanted the Madonna. If I don't find her, my parents will never be at peace." She sagged against him, exhausted, drained of everything but sorrow.
Gabriel lifted her into his arms. "You have more courage and honor in your heart than any woman I have known. I will help you find the Madonna; I promise."
Nick looked up at him. "What about you and the Kyn?"
"Croft told me many things," he said, "I must go to Ireland and speak with the high lord. I must settle matters regarding my sister."
"I was thinking of moving to Scotland for the winter," Nick said. "Maybe we could go see this lord guy on the way, tell him about all the stuff I have here. I really don't want it. What do you think?"
"Tomorrow." Gabriel turned and carried her back to the house.
Chapter 18
"The doctor injected you with this new serum she has created," Korvel told Richard. "It has counteracted what the feline blood did. I am told that Lady Elizabeth made the switch."
"I will deal with my wife later." Richard noticed the weapons missing from his collection. "You must go and find Orson Leary. Quickly."
Korvel hesitated. "I do not wish to leave you to face Cyprien alone."
"If he can get in, I will remind him that I have what he wants. Michael will not jeopardize her safety to take personal revenge." Richard gestured impatiently. "Go. I will collect our hostages."
Richard did not find Alexandra in the lab, but nearly ran into her as their paths collided at the entrance to the dungeons. She was carrying an unconscious Éliane over her shoulder. Richard saw the dagger left in his tresora's back—his dagger—and his claws extended.
"Who did this?"
"Some crazy-looking man." Alex carried her burden downstairs to the lab.
Richard received a second shock when he saw Phillipe waiting at the lab entrance.
"Has someone killed all of my guards?" he asked no one in particular.
"I don't have time for one of your tantrums, Richard. Shut up or get out." Alex kicked open the door to the lab. "I'll need help with Éliane, Phillipe."
