Dark Vision (27 page)

The slight creak of Coleen’s bedroom door opening. Quiet footsteps, getting closer. A small silence, as presumably they stopped, and looked around. I remembered I’d left my phone and keys on top of the bedside cabinet, and tried not to swear out loud. A rustle on the bed, the metallic clinking of my key chain being moved around. I’d been rumbled.

Footsteps again, now so close I expected my heart to explode with fear. I felt my chest rising and falling in a panicky pant as I sucked in tiny gulps of musty mothballed air. Not enough oxygen; my lungs were screeching, as though I was about to have my first ever asthma attack.

My forehead beaded with sweat, my fists were clenched into balls, and my throat was so parched I couldn’t even have swallowed my own non-existent spit. Please, please, just walk on, I thought. Decide I’m not here. Please. If I’d been more experienced, more gifted, more everything, I could have tried doing an Obi Wan Kenobi, a variation on the ‘these are not the droids you’re looking for’ theme – but I was too panicked, too spooked. Too dehydrated and hot and scared to concentrate on anything other than trying to breathe – and what was on the other side of that door.

The tiny pinprick of light disappeared. The keyhole was blocked by the body of an unknown assailant. I sucked in one last, desperate breath and held it as the doors were gripped and flung open so hard I felt the base of the wardrobe rock. Oh well, I thought. At least I got to see the Stone Roses …

I screwed up my eyes, and felt the lion yanked away from me. A rush of light, almost as blinding as the panic. I wanted to jump up and attack, to yell and punch and bite, and do everything that I knew Carmel would do if she were in my boots. But my legs were cramped and twisted, one ankle tucked beneath me at an impossible angle, and my broken finger was scorching with pain from being wrung and clenched so hard.

I looked up. Still couldn’t see properly. Too terrified even to scream, to do anything other than blink.

‘That was the lion,’ he said, pulling Leo out and throwing him clear across the room. ‘And here’s the wardrobe. You must be the witch.’

Gabriel.

Relief came quick and hard and choking. I found I could breathe properly again – but my heartbeat was going to take some time to rediscover its natural rhythm.

He leaned in and took hold of my hands to help me out, noticing when I grimaced in pain at his grip.

I stood up, and he stroked the hair back from my face; he ran his hands down my cheeks, my shoulders, my arms, my hips and waist, all the time staring intently at me. I realised there was nothing sexual in his touch – he was checking me for injuries, like a concerned vet examining a spooked horse.

‘I’m fine,’ I said, batting his hands away and frowning, anger flowing hot and fast now I felt safe from Sudden Death. ‘Apart from the fact that you almost gave me a heart attack there! Would it have killed you to shout out so I knew who you were, you stupid bastard?’

He frowned back, and I could see responding anger in his eyes. They shaded down darker when he was roused, I’d noticed – when he was furious, or aggressive … or turned on. All of which seemed to happen a lot when I was around. This must all be such fun for him. Right now, he probably had a lot in storage: me firing him up then rejecting him back in Dublin; doing my amazing escape act with Carmel’s help; risking my own life; and, ultimately, unleashing Fintan’s wrath. I had been a naughty little goddess. I could understand why he was angry, truly I could. I just didn’t give a fuck.

‘Yes,’ he said coldly, ‘it might have killed me, actually – I had no idea if you were here, if you were alone, or if the Faidh would be waiting for me. It’s war out there, Lily, and hiding in a bloody wardrobe isn’t going to save you.’

‘What is, then?’ I snapped, taking my weary body over to the bed and sinking down on to it. The pillow was next to me. It was just a pillow now, and I carved out a moment to feel sad about that.

I let my head droop down, hiding my face behind my hair to create the illusion of some privacy while I regrouped ready for the oncoming screaming match. Gabriel and I seemed incapable of talking for more than three minutes without one of us going nutso. Maybe we would make the perfect married couple after all.

I knew that if I just leaned back and closed my eyes, I could go to sleep, right here on Coleen’s bed, snuggled up to that pillow, and let the war rage on around me. The adrenaline of the hunt had drained from my body, leaving me weak and limp and exhausted. I really needed to sleep. To breathe. To grieve. To be back where I felt most comfortable: alone.

Gabriel, obviously, was having none of that. He wasn’t about to kill me, which is always a plus point in a potential boyfriend – but he wasn’t about to leave me be, either. I already knew him too well to expect that.

‘How did you find me?’ I asked, looking up again. He was staring at my broken finger, and the encrusted blood on my nails. His body was inching bigger, and his eyes were flaming. He’d allowed me to be hurt, and that wouldn’t be sitting well with his High Kingly sense of duty. He had one mission in life – to protect me – and he’d failed.

‘Carmel,’ he replied simply, spitting out the word like he couldn’t spare the breath.

Huh. Carmel. Maybe she’d started invading my brain as well – I mean, what difference would one more make? There was a whole street party going on in there. Might as well invite the entire family, bring a picnic and some cherryade. Spread out a blanket and watch the frigging show.

Gabriel proved my point with a timely psychic eavesdrop. (Repeat after me: must try harder to keep the nosy bugger out of my head.) ‘No, she hasn’t been invading your brain – she just knows you too well. Eventually we phoned the hospital and found out what had happened to Coleen, and she knew this was where you’d come next.’

He sat down next to me on the bed. I could feel the tense muscles of his thigh pressing against mine, thrumming with strength and restraint, and knew he was trying very, very hard to calm down. Not something that ever came easily to him. I appreciated the effort, because I couldn’t deal with a Celtic warrior going apeshit on me right now. I really couldn’t. If he started to tear a strip off me, I was going to walk to the nearest police station, punch the desk sergeant on the nose, and get myself locked up for the night. Three squares and a bed was sounding like a luxury mini-break right about now.

‘What happened to your hand?’ he asked gently, reaching out to touch the injured fingers. I saw the contact coming, and didn’t have the energy or the will either to fight him off or scoot to the other side of the room. Instead, I reached inside my mind and hastily pulled together a flimsy white cloud, trying to put up a mental barrier between us – hopefully keeping him out of my mind, and out of my visions. Steel bars would probably have worked better – maybe a nice brick wall – but white seemed to be the thing that worked for me. I closed my eyes, and tried to let the image solidify.

He was holding my hand. I concentrated, alert to an untimely tingling or a sudden rush of blood to the head. I felt nothing but his touch. Fionnula was right – it did get easier with practice. Like pilates. I just needed to make myself do it in the first place. Also like pilates.

‘Fintan happened,’ I replied, wondering if Gabriel had any idea what I was doing. If he did, he wasn’t telling.

‘I arrived at the hospital in time to watch Coleen die – just me, her and a passing crow. Then I went to walk by the river. Fintan found me there – and yes, I know, I am an idiot. We had a nice chat, then he broke my fingers and pushed me into the Mersey. To my – as it turns out – not-so-certain death. Then I got rescued by God, and we went for a night out in the Cavern. It’s been quite a day. What have you been up to?’

He paused and rubbed my fingers gently between his until they started to tingle. Not in a freaky about-to-fall-down way, but in a way that felt warm, and comforting, and healing. I swear the pain seemed to be rolling away, disappearing in tiny waves like the tide going out. Which was both unexpected and lovely. I only realised how much the throbbing had been bothering me when it started to fade. I didn’t know if it was something magical, or if it was just the pleasure of human contact – or whether, for me, there was really any difference between the two.

I felt a huge temptation to give in. To stop fighting; to stop arguing. He’d tried telling me what I should be doing, and that hadn’t worked. I’d stomped my feet and said no. He’d tried charming me and bossing me and persuading me, and none of that had worked, either. Yet staying still and quiet and massaging my poorly fingers was making me go all gooey-eyed; making me want to fall into his arms and lay my head on his chest. To let him hold me, and kiss me, and take care of me. To give up on this whole free-will lark, and simply go with the flow. Be his mate. Save the world. Have babies. Make curtains and cook his dinner. Eek. I’ve been starved of affection for the whole of my life – and now I was on a sugar rush.

‘I’ve been killing,’ he said, spoiling the romantic mood somewhat. ‘I almost started with Carmel when I found out she’d helped you leave.’

‘Ha!’ I said, resting my head a tiny bit against his shoulder. Because he was big, and solid, and there. And because it had been a very hard day, and I kind of wanted to feel a bit like a girl for a moment. ‘I’d like to see you try!’

‘No, you wouldn’t like to see me try. She’d die, and you’d never forgive me – and that’s probably the only thing that saved her. You need to tell me everything that happened, but we can’t stay here for too long – if I found you, they’ll find you. We are both in danger. Fionnula told me about the deal you’d had with Fintan.’

‘Oh, good,’ I replied jauntily. ‘I bet you wanted to kill me as well, then, didn’t you, for not telling you?’

‘Never that, Lily. But maybe a good spanking wouldn’t go amiss … at some point.’

I lifted my head, looked up to check. Yes, he was smirking. Only a joke. Amazing how we were finding it within ourselves to flirt, under the circumstances. Maybe the best flirting always goes on under these kinds of circumstances.

‘Anyway,’ he added, running a hand through his hair so it fell back down in thick, dark waves to his shoulders. ‘Whatever deal you had seems to be off. The house in Dublin was attacked this evening. Luckily the vampires were awake, so we escaped without serious injury. Kevin lost an eye, but he’ll be fine.’

I gulped and held on to his fingers just a tiny bit harder. Jesus. Kevin – the floppy-haired barman from the Coconut Shy – had lost an eye. Gabriel mentioned it so casually, as though it were a paper cut, as though it meant nothing. But it was, I knew, all down to me that he’d never get to be a fireman when he grew up. Fucking hell. I was responsible for someone I’d viewed as a friend, and certainly as a protector, losing a bloody eye. If only I’d said yes to Fintan, then Kevin would have been safe … but, I reminded myself, the rest of the world wouldn’t.

The Larry Hoeys of the world would disappear. Fintan would take them, and use them, and force them to live a life he deemed more suitable. I had done the right thing – I knew I had – but the consequences of my actions were going to send me on a very long guilt trip.

I tried to talk myself down from it. Kevin’s eye – and let’s face it, he had two – versus the rest of humanity. No competition. And Kevin was a soldier. He’d offered to lay down his soul for me, in fact, as well as to use his sword arm. What was one eye between friends, when vows like that had been made? He’d known this kind of thing might happen. For all I knew, he’d plucked out a few eyes himself in his time. Saving the world was his full-time job, when he wasn’t pulling pints in a Liverpool nightclub. Plus … well, he generally had hair over one of his eyes all the time anyway.

It was a valiant effort, but it wasn’t really working. I still felt awful, and no amount of self-justification was going to help. I reminded myself that Kevin, as Gabriel had said, would be fine, and tried to move on.

‘Then what happened?’ I asked, not even bothering to try talk to Gabriel about feeling guilty. He just wouldn’t get it, and might even see it as an insult to Kevin’s monumental macho. These guys were weird like that.

‘Then we came back here, to Liverpool. Carmel is with the others, training. The apartment is safe – for now. Fionnula went back home, where she will be safe too. You were the loose end, Lily.’

Ha. Story of my life. Hanging from the back of the tapestry, waiting to be tugged.

‘Now I’ve found you, we need to get back to them,’ he said. ‘Fintan will be searching for you. Eithne will be out. Their soldiers will be coming. What happened, Lily? Why did he hurt you?’

He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and I felt the twitch of his flesh expanding. Clearly the thought of Fintan hurting me was not making him a happy bunny. Can’t say that the memory did much for me, either.

‘He asked me to be his new BFF,’ I replied, allowing myself the brief luxury of being held by him. ‘And I said no. It was … awful. He’d taken over someone else’s body, and he smelled, and … I said no. He tried to kill me then – like you say, all bets are off. And then … well, I met the Overlord. We watched a few bands. He showed me a few things.’

‘What do you mean, the Overlord? Nobody ever meets the Overlord, not even the minor gods themselves. Do you even understand what the term means?’

I felt a minor huff coming at his tone, and told myself to chill – it was a fairly unbelievable story, after all.

‘Yes, as I’m not quite as stupid as you seem to think I am, Prince Snot. The Overlord. You know, God. Sorry I’ve upset your sense of snobbery, but he was the real deal. He saved my life, and he was … beautiful. And the people there were beautiful, and he did his very best to persuade me that my life could be too.’

‘And did he?’ he replied, nuzzling my hair. It probably stank of fags and booze and sweat, but it didn’t seem to bother him. ‘Persuade you?’

‘Maybe he did. But don’t get cocky about it – he also told me that the choice is mine, Gabriel. It’s not my destiny. It’s not preordained. I don’t have to do what you say.’ I thought back to my conversation with God in the taxi to Coleen’s house, everything he had told me, and focused on the sense of resolution it had given me. ‘The decision is mine, and you need to accept that. Saying no to Fintan doesn’t mean I’m saying yes to you. And he also said he’s sending someone to me. No names – he was mysterious like that – just that I needed some protection, from you as well as from Fintan, and that I’d know her when I saw her. So don’t get any ideas about locking me back in that wardrobe until Samhain, then expecting me to meekly say yes to your every command, OK? God will know. And he’ll be pissed off.’