Deceptions: A Cainsville Novel (36 page)

G
abriel was not dreaming, but it was perhaps the closest he’d ever come. The images spooling through his sleeping mind were still memories, yet bits and pieces of them, strung together like a clumsily tied rope of mismatched cloth.

He started in the car, the night before, telling Olivia she was imagining things, as a voice in his head yelled at him to stop, just stop, what the
fuck
was he doing, but he kept saying it, and when he saw the shock and pain in her eyes, he was glad of it. Satisfaction and shame, roiling together. Then they were back in Evans’s basement, his leg bleeding as he told her to get out, escape while she could, that he wouldn’t stay for her. She said she didn’t care. And she didn’t. It wasn’t about tit for tat, helping him because he’d do the same for her. She’d believed he would have left her, and yet she’d stayed for him.

At the car now, the burning car, the girl—Macy—ordering Olivia to climb into it or she’d shoot him. Later, standing by his window, sharing a drink, he’d had to make sure Olivia crawled into that burning car only because she knew Gabriel would get the jump on Macy.

“Mmm, not exactly. But I had a plan.”

“Good. Don’t put yourself at risk for anyone, Olivia. Ever. It isn’t worth it.”

In his car again, telling her she was imagining things, saying exactly the words that would hurt her the most.
You’re delusional
. Laughing when she said they were friends. That voice in his head screaming for him to stop, but a louder, more determined one prodding him on.
You have to do this. Disillusion her. Teach her not to trust anyone, especially you. Hurt her a little now, and you’ll save her that pain later.

He wasn’t her fairy prince. The idea was ludicrous. If she expected him to ride in and rescue her . . .

Except she didn’t expect that. She never had. And that wasn’t what Gwynn had done anyway, was it? No knight-in-shining-armor there, but a selfish bastard who didn’t even have the guts to try to win Matilda from Arawn. He’d betrayed his friend. Betrayed his lover. Forced Matilda to choose when she already had. Gwynn refused to share her time or attention. He’d lied and manipulated and betrayed everyone he supposedly cared about, because he didn’t really care about anyone except himself.

And Gabriel said he
wasn’t
Gwynn?

But that was their choice, wasn’t it? That’s what Olivia meant—they weren’t really Matilda and Gwynn and Arawn. Olivia was no flighty girl, believing Gabriel’s lies, accepting his betrayals. Ricky wasn’t simply her friend, and he wasn’t the arrogant Lord of the Underworld, either—he cared about Olivia and he respected her, and if Gabriel ever suggested the kind of pact Gwynn had with Arawn, Ricky would tell him to go to hell.

Ricky and Olivia had broken from their roles. And Gabriel . . . ?

The memory changed. He was standing in his bedroom doorway, Olivia sitting up in his bed, her eyes wide from whatever she’d been dreaming. No, not
whatever
.

“You left,”
she said,
“and I didn’t know why. I was trapped in the dark, and I couldn’t get out, and I called and you wouldn’t come.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

The memory shifted. He was eating dinner tonight. He couldn’t even remember what it was—takeout bought at a drive-thru, mechanically eaten as he’d sat at the table, staring at a pile of papers and pretending to read. Then his phone rang.

Olivia’s ring tone. She’d set it up a week ago. They’d been talking when a client called, and he’d gotten annoyed because he’d had to pause the conversation long enough to check his call display.

“You need ring tones,” she said. “So you’ll know if it’s important without needing to take two entire seconds to check.”

“Do you really think I know how to set a ring tone?”

She’d put out her hand. A few minutes of tapping and she handed his phone back. “One for Rose and one for Lydia. One for Don, too, as your premier client. One for Ricky, because he’d feel left out otherwise. And, of course, one for me, so you’ll know I’m bugging you, and you can ignore it.”

Which would never happen.
That’s what he’d thought, with an oddly warm feeling.
I’ll know it’s you, and I’ll always answer.

Now the phone rang, her ring tone, a jaunty little tune that reminded him of Olivia in a good mood, chipper and bouncy. It rang and it rang, and he did not answer.

Back to the bedroom.

“Anytime you need me, I’m here,”
he said.
“If you call, I’ll come.”

“I know.”

She’d called once more after that. Late, as he was in bed, trying to sleep. He’d heard it ring, and he’d rolled over and waited for it to go to voice mail. He didn’t check the message. Nor had he checked the last one. Ignoring voice mail, texts, and e-mail. Getting his distance. That was best for both of them.

Because I am Gwynn, and I can’t escape it. He destroyed her, and he loved her. I’ll destroy you and . . .

He fell into the memory again, Olivia sitting up in bed, eyes wide as he assured her he’d never fail her. He’d always be there for her. Always, always, always.

“Gabriel!”

He shot upright, as if he’d been only dozing. He blinked and peered around the room. The dark and empty room.

I was trapped in the dark, and I couldn’t get out, and I kept calling and you wouldn’t answer.

His phone started to ring. It wasn’t her ring tone, but he’d gotten another call, not long after the first one this evening, from a number he hadn’t recognized, and he’d answered and heard nothing, and known it was her.

But this time, call display showed a client’s name. He hit Ignore and flipped to his voice messages. He was going to listen. He should have listened, damn it. Just in case.

As the first message played, his heart picked up speed with every word. Tristan? The hospital? Goddamn it, yes, that was a trap, and she shouldn’t have gone without him.

And how the hell was she supposed to know that when you wouldn’t answer your fucking telephone? Besides, she has Ricky.

That didn’t matter. Yes, Ricky would look after her, but no matter how much he knew, he didn’t really understand. He couldn’t.

How many times over the last week had Gabriel felt that kernel of jealousy grow, felt that Ricky was taking everything, leaving nothing that was his alone? This was. Ricky didn’t understand the magnitude of the situation, of the danger, the threat, because if he did, he’d be on that phone himself, telling Gabriel to quit his sulking and get the hell down there to help her.

Gabriel rolled out of bed and grabbed his trousers from the chair.

Now you’re going to help her? Three hours after she called? Much too little, much too late, and you know it.

That’s when he remembered the second message. Calling to tell him it was all right? Situation resolved?

He played the message, and when he finished listening, he pounded in her number, punching the keys so hard that he kept striking two at once.

It’s been an hour. A goddamn hour. She needed you, and you rolled over and went back to sleep.

The phone rang once. He exhaled, eyes closed, waiting to hear her voice telling him it was fine, she was fine, they were fine.
And by the way, Gabriel? Get the fuck out of my life and stay there.

The line clicked.

“I’m sor—” he began.

A computerized voice intoned, “The customer you are trying to reach is not available. Please—”

He grabbed his shirt and raced out the door.

—

Gabriel strode down the corridor of the main hospital building. That seemed to be where Olivia had called from, if he was inferring correctly. No, not inferring. Not deducing, either. He was worried enough to strip away those logical explanations and admit the truth to himself.

I know she’s here. I just know it.

As for “where” here, well, that was the problem. He’d tried calling on the drive. Tried Ricky, too, only to get the same “customer unavailable” message.

He climbed to the second floor, and when he walked along the main corridor, a board creaked overhead. A footstep sounded, then another.

So where the hell were the stairs? He continued down the hall and found them. Broken steps, half the treads rotted, but footprints on the remaining ones. As he climbed, he saw someone passing in the hall above. The figure stopped.

“Gabriel. Thank God. I— Whoa! Stop!” Ricky’s hand shot out, palm up. “That whole stair is rotted. I already put my foot through it. Step over it to the next one.”

Gabriel grunted and did that. “Where’s Olivia?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me. She’s here. I
know
she’s here.”

That knot of jealousy tightened.
Of course he knows, too.

“What happened?”

“We were talking outside, in this little graveyard, and the next thing I know, she’s walking toward this building. I go to grab her and it’s like grabbing air, and all of a sudden she’s ten feet ahead of me, and when I get in here, she’s gone completely. I know something like that happened with you, so I went back out and waited, figuring I hadn’t really seen her leave. When she didn’t reappear, I came in. Only I can’t find her, and it’s been two damned hours. I’ve scoured every inch of this place.”

Gabriel nodded. “We’ll do it again. Systematically, room by room.”

“That’s what I did.” That flash of annoyance Gabriel knew well. Ricky’s don’t-treat-me-like-a-child look. Which was never what Gabriel intended—he simply didn’t trust anyone else’s intelligence, which was perhaps equally insulting. Ricky’s intelligence, like his maturity, was just fine. Unfortunately.

“Never mind,” Ricky said. “You’re right. We’ll do it again. Reverse order this time. Starting up here. You search rooms while I stand in the hall. That way there’s no chance she’ll get past us accidentally.”

While there was a niggle in Gabriel’s gut that wanted to amend the plan, simply for the sake of amending it, he did as Ricky suggested, searching room by room, checking behind every item that could hide Olivia, unconscious. He didn’t hear so much as a rat scuttling until he reached the belfry. That’s when he caught a moan, half stifled, as if it had escaped unbidden, Olivia injured and gritting her teeth, trying not to cry out. Which is exactly what he’d expect of her, so much so that he didn’t pause. He loped straight for the ladder and climbed up, ignoring Ricky’s “Hey!” below.

Ricky’s boots pounded as he ran into the room below the belfry. Gabriel was already at the top. The room was bigger than he’d expected, perhaps eight feet square. And empty. Completely empty.

He heard the moan again. Coming through a hole in the opposite wall. He started toward it.

“Whoa!” Ricky said. “Stop!”

Gabriel rocked there, shooting a look back at Ricky.

“Hey, don’t glower at me, big guy. I’m not trying to stop you from finding her. I’m saving your ass
again
. Look down.”

Gabriel did. Like the stairs, the floor was rotted, boards missing or half broken.

“I heard—” Gabriel began.

“Yeah, so did I. But you’re a good thirty pounds heavier than me. Which means I’ll be the one crossing the rotting floor and hoping I don’t plummet to my doom.”

He wants to rescue her. He wants to be the first face she sees.

Which was ridiculous. The floor was clearly rotted. Ricky was smaller. He’d stopped Gabriel from hurtling into danger twice and now offered to take the risk. Any competition existed only in Gabriel’s mind, and he was ashamed of that.

He’s doing it on purpose. Showing you up.

Gabriel growled softly and shook his head.

That was Gwynn. The part of him that was Gwynn ap Nudd. As Gabriel, he could look at Ricky and see someone he respected, trusted. An ally who could even be considered a friend. Then he’d think of Olivia, and jealousy would surge, sometimes more than jealousy, something bitter and hard, almost like hate.

That’s not me.

Or is that just an excuse?

“You got my back?” Ricky asked.

“Of course.”

Ricky started picking his way across the floor. The boards groaned and creaked with each step. One gave way, but he jumped off it fast enough. Then, as Ricky was still leaping over the broken board, something flew from the hole in the wall. Something bright and fast, flying toward Ricky, his switchblade rising with a “What the hell?” The thing hit him in the neck. Blood spurted. Ricky fell.

No, Ricky was
pushed
. Shoved hard toward the front railing. He hit it and it shattered, wood exploding as he fell through.

Gabriel lunged toward him, but the first plank he hit gave way, his foot falling into the hole, enough for him to stumble, and when he recovered, he could see Ricky’s hands, grasping the edge of the floor.

“Gabriel!”

“Hold on. My foot . . .” He wrenched his leg. His foot was wedged into the hole. He bent and pulled at his shoe.

Are you sure you want to help him?
This time the voice came, not from his head, but as a whisper, right at his ear. He turned and saw no one there.

Look at him. He’s barely hanging on. He’s bleeding badly. It’s a four-story drop. The fall would likely kill him, and if it didn’t, he’d bleed out before help came. All you need to do is stay right where you are. Or better yet, walk away. No one knows you were up here.

Gabriel managed to get his foot free. He took one careful step, calling, “Just hold on.”

Is that really what you want? You’re right. You aren’t Gwynn. You don’t have the balls to be Gwynn. You pride yourself on being a man of resolve. You see what you want and you go after it, everyone else be damned. This is what you want. Ricky, dead. Olivia, yours. And all you need to do is turn around and walk out.

He took another careful step forward.

Don’t pretend you aren’t thinking about it.

Gabriel tested the next board with his toe.

It’s not safe. You should just stop. Stop and think about it. Imagine it. Ricky, dead. Olivia, yours.