When Aurora emerged from the bathroom later that afternoon, there was no sign of Gabe. She refused to acknowledge the disappointment that stabbed through her. He had a life outside of this island that didn’t include her, and she wasn’t going to drive herself crazy by second guessing everything.
She’d continue with her research that Mephisto had interrupted.
Except he’d smashed the laptop.
Great.
Back in the kitchen, a large chest on the terrace caught her eye. Frowning, she went outside and crouched beside it. Dimly, she recalled a thud before Gabe had launched himself at Mephisto. This was obviously what he’d dropped.
She traced her fingers along the top of the timber chest. They slid into a concealed groove, and before she realized what she’d done, the entire top folded upon itself and disappeared down the back of the chest.
Shit. Guilt ate through her and she glanced back at the villa, half expecting Gabe to materialize. There was no way she was going to look through his personal possessions. She still felt bad enough that she had discovered that picture.
Despite her best intentions, her gaze snagged on the contents and her breath caught in her throat. The chest was filled with a child’s beloved toys and books, and items of clothing.
She sat back on her heels and squeezed her eyes shut. It was like she’d wrenched open Gabe’s heart. Why had she even touched the chest in the first place?
It was too late to regret that, now. She needed to find out how the mechanism worked and get it shut before he returned.
Gingerly, she probed the edge of the chest while trying not to look inside. And then he materialized at the other end of the terrace, and she jerked back so fast she almost fell onto her butt.
He strode toward her, and gibbered excuses raced through her mind as to what she was doing looking through his precious daughter’s possessions. Just because that wasn’t what she’d been doing, didn’t make a lot of difference. It looked bad and she wouldn’t blame him for losing his shit.
He stepped over the opened chest and placed something on the table behind her before sitting on a chair.
Okay, then. He was obviously waiting for her defense. Her mind was scarily blank. How pathetic would it sound to tell him she’d opened the chest without meaning to?
“You have a new laptop.” There was the faintest trace of a tired smile on his face. She had the unnerving certainty he was oblivious to the open chest beside her.
Bemused, she glanced at the slender package on the table. What am I missing?
“Uh, good?” Her voice was unnaturally high, and she hitched in a shallow breath, but it had trouble reaching her lungs. Maybe she should just apologize for the chest’s irrational locking system and hope he wouldn’t hold it against her.
“I thought so.” This time his smile appeared more genuine.
“Look, I’m really sorry.” She made a feeble waving gesture in the chest’s direction. “I didn’t mean to pry. I mean, I haven’t pried. I haven’t looked at anything at all.” She was gabbling with nerves and sounded as guilty as sin. Because she was guilty, but he didn’t know about the discovery she’d made in his office.
He shrugged, apparently unconcerned. “It’s okay.”
Something was very odd about his reaction. She chanced another glance into the chest. Although the toys looked well-loved, they didn’t look that old. Doubt surfaced. Had she jumped to the wrong conclusion?
But why would he have a chest full of a child’s things if they weren’t his daughter’s?
She couldn’t help herself. “What is it?”
“Work related.”
“What is it that you do?” She’d been dying to know but hadn’t liked to ask before now.
“I track the missing.”
She stared at him, entranced. Now this was more like the myths of old. Wasn’t Gabriel the Archangel of Mercy?
“You mean you’re like a private investigator?”
Disgust washed over his face. “Do I look like a PI?”
She had to give him that. “No. But it doesn’t matter what you call yourself. What’s important is what you do.”
“Don’t get too emotional.” There was a grim note in his voice. “I don’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. My fees are astronomical.”
For some reason it hadn’t occurred to her that he’d charge a fee. Then again, he had to live, and he’d already told her he amassed fortunes as a hobby. It shouldn’t come as that much of a surprise.
“I suppose that’s only fair,” she conceded. “You need to cover expenses.”
“That has nothing to do with it. It’s so potential clients are fully aware of the magnitude of their request.”
Gabe
“Okay.” She sounded completely baffled. “So, what does that mean, exactly?”
Why had he started this conversation? It wasn’t something he discussed with anyone.
But then, Aurora wasn’t just anyone.
How had it become so complicated between them? He should have kept their association firmly in the zone of savior and victim. Immortal and human. Not let anything else filter through the cracks in his armor.
Too late now. Maybe she’d back off in disgust if he told her the price his clients were prepared to pay. And maybe then she wouldn’t distract his every waking thought.
“It means I demand their soul in payment.”
“You can’t demand a person’s soul.” She sounded incredulous. But she didn’t recoil.
“Give me one good reason why not.”
“You’re telling me souls are real?” She pushed herself from the floor and perched on the edge of the chest.
“Yes.” What other answer was there?
“But you’re an archangel.” She made him sound like a benevolent god. The literal definition of oxymoron. “I thought the taking of souls was something only the devil did.”
“Depends what you classify as a devil.” He’d been called that and worse in his time. It was all a matter of perspective.
She gave a little huh, as though she thought he was joking. He resisted the urge to tell her that he was deadly serious. What did it matter what she thought?
It matters.
A haunting reminder that no matter how he denied it to Zad, his attachment to Aurora was far more than spectacular sex.
“But why do you demand their souls?”
“It’s the ultimate proof.” He owed her nothing, yet the need to tell her everything consumed his reason. “If a potential client is willing to sacrifice the possibility of ever being reborn, just to save the one they love in this life, then maybe the missing one is worth searching for.”
“Reborn? Are you saying people really do reincarnate?”
“Only if they possess a soul.” He couldn’t stop the bitterness in his voice. “Otherwise once you die, that’s it. You’re gone forever. No second chances.”
“Wait.” She frowned, oblivious to how astonishing it was for a mere mortal to say such a thing to an archangel. “You return the one they love, and at the same time take away the chance they may have of getting together in a future life?”
That was exactly the conclusion he wanted her to believe. She would retreat, and this strange connection between them would shatter. Their relationship would be based exclusively on sex, and his fascination with her would fade.
Except the suicidal desire to leap to his feet, drag her into his arms, and tell her the truth thundered through his brain. Did she really think so little of him that she could believe he’d demand such a thing?
Despite the price his clients believed they paid, all he did was wipe their minds. They retained only a hazy memory of having approached him, or what he had done for them. But the rumors persisted that he demanded not only his client’s soul, but also their life as payment.
And still the desperate sought him out.
He crushed the illogical urge. Let her believe the worst of him.
“That’s right.” To his disgust, he sounded belligerent.
“But that’s ridiculous.”
His grin was feral. Her lack of respect was breathtaking. Mortals had died for far less. Why, then, did he find her irreverence so damned exhilarating?
“What criteria would you use?” he demanded, as though she was his equal and her opinion mattered. “How would you prioritize which case to take and which to leave?”
With the right one, sex can heal the soul. But Aurora was not the right one. And his soul was beyond salvation. But curse the gods, he didn’t want to lose this fragile thread that had inexplicably woven them together.
She gazed into the chest and trailed her fingers over the contents as though she was clairsentient and could discover secrets from touch alone.
“You’d need harsh criteria.” Reluctant acceptance threaded through her words. “Otherwise you’d be swamped.”
“That’s why I’ve never suppressed the rumors.” To hell with it. He wanted her to know the truth, because she hadn’t condemned him. How fucked up was that? “What would I do with a million souls?”
Her smile was soft, accepting, and every reason why he’d convinced himself to put distance between them evaporated like morning mist.
“You’re looking for a child, aren’t you?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. There was no need, when the contents of the chest told its own tale. “How old is she?”
“Four years old.”
“Do you,” she hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Do you want me to help? I’d like to.”
She wanted to help?
She had no idea what to look for, and he didn’t need her. But despite that logic he acknowledged, with a sense of fatality, that he wanted her help.
Even if all it amounted to was simply keeping him company.