Finding Gabriel (37 page)

No refuge was to be found. Cannons exploded inside his mind along with the deafening sounds of splintering wood and faded screams. And he vividly remembered them all:
The sensation of being ripped apart. Glancing down to find his leg halfway severed. Hearing another explosion. Feeling the ground swallow him whole. Being thrown from the splintered deck and into the inky water below …

Sweat trickled from his brow as the memories crashed down with the force of an avalanche. Somehow, he’d summoned the strength to crawl onto a chunk of ship debris, remove his coat, and fashion a makeshift tourniquet around his leg. Then the endless waiting had begun – a twisted purgatory of contemplation and numbing terror. Thirst, hunger, and heat had plagued him for days on end – they’d been his sole companions. Blisters had crusted his lips, his throat had turned drier than a furnace, his tongue had grown inseparable from the roof of his mouth, and corruption had begun to consume his maimed leg. Sweltering heat had flashed across his face and seared his skin with the bite of a cattle brand. Sweat had clotted his hairline and trickled down his temples in lieu of his tears.
I’m not supposed to die here,
he remembered thinking.
I have no great love for the open sea. Only for Ariah.

Days later, a fisherman had discovered him in that state – far more dead than alive, baking in the sun, and gasping for water. It was a true wonder he’d survived at all. Even a miracle, one might claim. Through the hours of excruciating pain and unknown darkness, the memory of Ariah had kept him from slipping away.

Jacques’s eyes snapped open at the distinct sound of footfall. He glanced behind him and to the sides – though could see nothing through the heavy shadows.

He was losing his sanity. After fetching the basin from the ground he continued limping forward. He exhaled a breath of relief when he finally arrived at the water well. Groaning from the exertion, he slammed the basin onto the moss covered edge. Catching his breath, he wiped at his face with his sleeve and blotted away beads of sweat. Then he latched onto the hanging rope, grunted, and gave a hard pull. The small basket emerged from the water’s oily depths and dangled in midair. Just as Jacques reached forward, another strain of fear twisted through his body – this one much more potent. The rope whizzed and whirled back into place as he freed it. He quickly filled the basin, collected it from the edging, and paced toward home.

The instincts he’d developed across the battlefields kicked into high gear. His breaths deepened, whispering against the night in dense clouds. Every hair on the back of his neck stood erect.

Jacques’s grip faltered as he allowed the basin to slip from his fingers. It smacked against the cobblestones in an unsettling bang and caused water to slosh over the sides. Leaning on his walking stick like an old man, he inspected the shadows, looking for any trace of movement – any sign of a lurking threat or concealed danger.

Approaching footfall sounded again.

Jacques rotated on his heels, reeling toward the muted thudding. Straining his eyes against the impenetrable black void, he edged forward. Beads of sweat gathered along his hairline in spite of the bitter cold.

Everything happened in a flash.

A dirty hand splayed over his lips, silencing any cry for help. Heavy, pungent breaths fell across his nape and seared his skin. Red-hot pain shot through his body as metal was drawn across his throat. The icy fear that clung to his heart tightened its hold. The dagger’s toothy snarl tore through his flesh.

He could feel it – blood streamed from the wound and gurgled from his mouth. He tried to yell, to cry out, to reach someone’s ears … but all words were drowned beneath that bubbling, crimson fountain. The cane slipped from his hand and landed on the pavement; it emitted a muffled sound that seemed to come from kilometers away.

The surrounding darkness twisted into something surreal, and the stone buildings seemed to cave in on themselves. The trees vanished into the bruised skyline. Everything became warped and indistinguishable from one another. Breathless, his knees gave way, sending his body tumbling onto the cobblestones face-first. The bridge of his nose shattered as he collided with the ground. Then the entire world and everything in it slowly faded away.

His eyes fluttered shut while a sliver of peace overcame him. His heart slowed. His pulse boomed inside his ears in a deafening roar. All the while, the dull thud of footfall receded, leaving him alone in the eternal darkness.

Ariah fastened the shawl around her shoulders and shuffled into the night. Her breaths pierced the air as she waded through the poorly lit streets. A low-hanging fog had slipped through the alleyway and curtained the world around her.

Where, pray tell, was Jacques? He’d left for the well nearly an hour earlier. Ariah didn’t want to leave Emmaline alone – but a terrible premonition weighed heavily on her heart.

Something has happened to him.

She scrambled through the winding walkways with quick, decisive strides. Overhead, the oil lamps swayed back and forth as they were cradled by the wind’s breath.

Perhaps he merely wished for some fresh air and time to himself. Surely he’d be waiting by the well, distracted and lost to deep thought.

The lamps flickered, shedding rings of light across the scarred cobblestones. Minutes later, the water well came into sight. She hiked up her skirts and raced forward. Wind whistled through her ears in a piercing wail, urging the curls from her cheeks. Then she stopped in her tracks, overcome with a stinging, unimaginable terror. Several meters from the well, a faint silhouette was sprawled across the cobblestones. And beside the body was an over-tipped basin. Spilled water pooled around the motionless, splayed limbs. Cloaked beneath the darkness, the man’s features were barely visible. And yet she knew it was him. She felt it with every breath, every manic beat of her pulse.

Ariah cried out and stared down in horror.

No. Dieu, no …

Blood streaked the water, painting it a vivid red. Blinding tears sprang to her eyes as she collapsed in the midst of the puddle. The liquid drenched her skirts, plastering cold, stiff muslin to her flesh. Muttering beneath ragged breaths, she scooped Jacques’s face in her palms and lifted it from the sullied water. Fresh blood coursed down his neck, bubbling from the deep knife wound. Sobs wracked Ariah’s body as she threw herself across his motionless form and held on tight.

•

Ariah unlocked the front door and flew inside the home. Eyes sealed shut, she leaned against the wooden panel and attempted to regain her composure. Her bloodstained hands madly shook as she wrung the material of her skirts. The tears kept falling. She wept for Jacques. She wept for Gabriel. She wept for her daughter, who’d lost so many people dear to her. Ariah fought to restrain those wretched tears. If not, Emmaline would ask questions. And she found herself sorely lacking answers.

She wiped away her tears with renewed purpose. Streaks of blood stained her cheeks like war paint. She desperately rubbed at her skin until the flesh grew irritated and red. Gabriella eased inside the room, appearing quite spooked. Her thin tail was tucked between her legs, both ears were pinned down, and a low whimper sounded inside her throat.

Then Ariah shattered into a million, unidentifiable pieces. Her tears transformed into choked sobs. It wasn’t merely crying; soul-wrenching sobs were jerked from the most intimate depths of her body, twisting through her entire being like a dull blade. Grasping onto the door’s panel, her chest wheezed with labored breaths. She fought to hold them back – it would be terrible to wake Emmaline in this state.

An exasperated, bizarre sound emerged from her throat as she surrendered to her emotions. Fighting for breath, she lowered her hands from her swollen features. The oil lamp’s illumination set the wedding band aglow. Heart pounding, she grasped the emblem and silently bowed her chin.
Forgive me, Jacques. Forgive me for everything.

Mon Dieu.
How would she break the news to her daughter? How much loss could one child endure? Would her illness return? Ariah purged the thoughts from her mind and glanced at her wedding band again. The inscription seemed to burn into her skin.

What exactly had happened to Jacques? Who would have done such a thing? A brief flash of Geoffrey’s embittered face emerged inside her mind. Never had she seen such grief … such anger and resentment. Those eyes would haunt her forever.

It had been him. She knew it with every fiber of her being. Anger burned inside her chest and stole the breath from her lungs. She leaned against the doorjamb and fought back the rising bile. Then she curled her fingers into a fist and punched the wooden panel until blood oozed from her knuckles. Tears of heartache grew ice-cold, transforming into tears of burning, seething hatred. Out of breath from the exertion, Ariah sagged against the bloodied panels while a sudden, terrible thought screamed through her mind.
Mon Dieu.
Geoffrey wouldn’t dare touch her daughter …

Emmaline.
Ariah raced into her daughter’s bedchamber. What she discovered split her heart in two and purged the last breath from her lungs. The window had been cleanly shattered – and Emmaline was gone.

•

Gabriel’s mind spun as his legs ate up the walkway at record speed. He shot through the darkness with one goal in mind: Ariah would be his, and he would be Ariah’s. Forevermore. Whatever doubts and complications lay ahead were minor obstacles in the face of their destiny. He, Emmaline, and Ariah belonged together.

They would be a family.

But the sight that came into view near her home pulled him up short. Several meters away, a dense, low-hanging fog shrouded a body. Gabriel felt his insides clench as he slowly eased toward the motionless form. His skin tightened, prickled, moving like a living thing.

The man was sprawled on his stomach – and he had a wooden leg.

Jacques.

Breaths misting in a white cloud, Gabriel fell onto his knees and examined his comrade’s pallid features. A crusty ribbon of blood wrapped around his neck, streaking down the strong column of his throat.

“No …” Gabriel hung his face. He allowed his eyes to drift shut. Behind his closed lids, he was back on the battlefield and in command. Jacques stood gallantly before him, all youth and vitality as he tossed himself into the midst of flying debris and gunshots. Brave and fearless, he held nothing back – obeying each of Gabriel’s orders with precision and heart.

Gabriel hesitantly opened his eyes and took in the sight of his comrade’s cold, lifeless body. His fingertips clenched and unclenched several times before constricting into steel fists. Red-hot anger swept through his veins like molten lava. His breaths deepened, expelling harshly into the cold night air.

Jacques had deserved better than such a bleak fate and frivolous death. And he’d deserved better than Gabriel’s betrayal. A landslide of guilt smothered the last of his thoughts.

With trembling hands, Gabriel unclasped the enameled
croix
from his greatcoat. Then he pinned the ornament to Jacques’s coat, smoothed back his auburn hair, and whispered a grief-filled apology.

•

Gabriel tore inside Ariah’s home. The pup immediately raced over to him, her long tail slicing the air. He gently pushed her away and anchored his attention on Ariah.

She was turned away from him – completely distracted, securing a shawl around her shoulder in quick, wobbly movements. Weeping silent tears, she lifted her skirts and fastened the dagger below the material.

Gabriel’s chest tightened. Paralyzed by her delicate beauty – enthralled by her nearness – he drank in the sight for several iridescent moments. The air around him seemed to transform into beckoning fingers; it urged him forward.

He stepped forward and seized Ariah’s waist without further thought. A shallow cry erupted from her throat as he embraced her – never intending to let go.

“Oh, Gabriel! Thank God.”

Tranquility flowed through his veins as he reveled in the exquisite feel of her, the scent of her hair and skin, the sound of her breathing. Her head lolled backward and rested across his shoulder. She was trembling from head to toe, and a fine sheen of sweat covered her skin.

Dieu,
she could barely hold herself upright. Her ribs rapidly rose and fell beneath his arms. He tightened his embrace, held her soundly, and whispered words of comfort until her breathing grew steady. Then he felt her entire body melt against him, and each limb surrendered to his ministrations.

“I’ve got you, Ariah. And I shall never let you go again.”

Never parting from his embrace, she rotated in his arms and mutely shook her head. Tears streamed from her eyes and coated her pale cheeks. Trembling from head to toe, she looped both limbs around his neck and held him close. Erratic puffs of air teased at his pulse and caused his insides to violently contract. Then she fell limp and fragmented into pieces.

“Geoffrey found me – at the Tuileries Garden. He’s mad, Gabriel … he took Emmaline. He will hurt me in any way he can.” Sobs shook her body while she struggled to speak through the tears. Every muscle convulsed, and her bones fiercely reverberated beneath his fingertips. Absorbing the tension, Gabriel softly hushed her and smoothed his palm up and down her back. “It’s my fault. Jacques … and now Emmaline – she is gone, Gabriel! Oh,
Dieu
. I cannot bear it! I – ”

“Shh.” Gabriel increased the pressure of his grasp. Then he stepped away and held her at arm’s length. He locked onto her eyes and fought to harness back his rage. Alas, he could hardly see straight. Never had he experienced such blinding, consuming anger. “Ariah …” Swallowing deeply, he studied her pale features, taking in every delicate line, every curve, and every nuance with a haunting awareness. “I should have been here. I never should have left.”

“If something has happened to her – ”

Gabriel swallowed the last of Ariah’s words. His lips claimed her own in a possessive movement, and his mouth moved against her flesh with a bruising force. She returned his passion tenfold. Her fingers fisted in the front of his coat, grasping onto the material. The tang of salty tears mingled with their kisses and seeped onto his tongue. The sudden urge to pull her into himself – to make them a single, indivisible being – shook Gabriel to the very core.

Rasping for breath, he pulled away from Ariah and gripped her face with both hands. Stroking her tearstained cheeks, he resolutely murmured, “Nothing shall happen to her. Do you hear me? I swear to you.”

Ariah nodded, her eyes never parting from his own. “We must hurry, Gabriel.” Then she lowered her lashes and swallowed deeply. “I know where he is.”