Anne ran the crushed velvet skirts through her fingers, a small smile on her lips. She’d found the dress laid out on their bed. Not black like the one she’d worn when he kissed her hand in Strasbourg that evening so long ago, but forest green with a row of tiny pearl buttons, and she knew Gabriel was telling her that the past was dead, gone, and they had only the future before them. One bright and sweet with promise.
She wanted to thank him for the gift, but he wasn’t in the kitchen or the music room or any of the places he usually went. And then she finally found him in the old ruined chapel, where mourning doves nested in the crossbeams and ivy clung to crevices in the ancient stone. Anne paused in the doorway. Soft light spilled through the stained glass window at the far end of the nave.
Gabriel was on his knees before the altar, head bowed.
And for an instant she saw the Knight Templar of six hundred years ago, the white tunic with the red cross, a long blade at his hip, praying on the eve of battle, and Anne almost envied him his faith. His unwavering certainty.
She lived in a different world, less certain but one with its own delights. She had seen that mermaid in the Zambezi River, and fairies, too. And she longed to share it with him.
Anne watched him for a moment more, then retreated to allow him privacy.
She returned to the house and filled the big claw-footed tub with water warmed from the barrel he always left near the hearth. She’d nearly slipped into a doze when she heard him enter behind her.
Anne lazily bent one knee and let it fall to the side, hoping to goad him into getting in the tub with her. But instead of touching her body, his hands filled her wet hair, lifting it, combing it with his fingers. Warm breath tickled her ear.
“Come away with me, Anne. Tonight.”
She turned her head. “Where?”
“Anywhere. I don’t care.”
“And your cross?”
“Let him keep it.” Gabriel paused. “But we can’t stay. They’ll come looking. I bought this place in my name. They’ll find it. And I … I don’t want to fight them, Anne. They might not believe you chose the bond freely, whatever you say.”
Anne knew the truth of this. Vivienne in particular had always been overprotective. Anne indulged her, but she was no child. She would send a letter. Let everyone cool down a bit before she told them face to face.
“I would go anywhere with you, Gabriel,” she murmured. “Anywhere at all.”
“Mmmm.”
The water sloshed gently in the tub as he soaped a cloth and ran it across her belly.
“I’ll cook for you every day, make you fat and happy. There’s a place I know, oceans away. White sand and the greenest water you ever saw. I’ll catch you fish.”
A slow, aching burn filled her as his knuckles grazed one breast. “And how will we get to this place?”
“A ship will come tonight. I’ll ride into town and make the arrangements.”
She felt him move to stand and caught his wrist. “Don’t go.”
Anne heard a smile in his voice. “Poor darling. So hungry again?”
“Yes. Starving.”
He bent down and kissed her, a kiss that promised all sorts of things … later.
Anne sighed. She touched his cheek. “I’ll bond you under the moon and stars. On the tower.”
Gabriel laughed. “All right.”
He kissed her once more and she heard his light steps retreating down the stairs, the faint thunder of his horse as he galloped down the road.
Anne lay back in the warm water, drowsy and besotted with thoughts of what it would be like to have him afterwards. She had no fear of him anymore. She trusted Gabriel utterly to hold her power with an open hand … and to teach her how to change her form.
You’ll have all my gifts.
But Anne knew that wasn’t why she was bonding him. She would do it if he was a pauper with nothing but the rags on his back and not a single ounce of his own magic.
She fell asleep in the bath and woke some time later, her skin pimpled with goosebumps. The sun had set and a full moon was climbing above the forest as she dried off and dressed in a simple shift. Anne glanced at the dress laid out on the bed but decided to wait.
Gabriel had always spoiled her with his cooking. Her own skills in the kitchen were clumsy in comparison — mainly because fire in close proximity could be deadly — but she could at least set the table and make it look nice. Anne gathered lavender from the garden, then set off for the kitchen in search of a vase.
She hadn’t lingered there when she’d gone looking for him before. A quick glance through the door had told her he was elsewhere. Now she went inside and started searching the cupboards. She found a porcelain ewer she thought would do nicely, and turned to leave when her gaze fell upon a heavy oaken door, and single drop of dried blood on the floor before it.
Gabriel must have taken a cloth and tried to clean it up. Yet a trace remained, a dark stain on the doorjamb.
He had told her he always Traveled through a pond in the woods. That he didn’t like opening gateways from the Dominion into his own home. But of course he couldn’t have when he returned from London.
He would never have made it that far.
It’s only Gabriel’s, she thought. He was dying….
Yet Anne felt the first stirrings of a terrible, nameless dread as she pushed the door open and saw more droplets winding down into darkness.
She felt a sudden urge to turn around, to go back upstairs, open a book, and pretend she’d never seen it.
To leave well enough alone.
But she couldn’t.
So she padded down the stairs in her bare feet, following the trail deep beneath the castle to places she had never gone before. There were old casks and barrels stacked against the walls, and bits of rusty armor. Rolled-up carpets with nests of mice that skittered and squeaked at her footfalls.
Several heavy oaken doors later, the trail ended in the wine cellar.
Where she found Alec sitting against the wall in chains with a split lip and truly spectacular black eye.
And Anne’s first treacherous thought was not My poor sweet brother, but rather, What did you do to him to make him chain you up down here?
She hurried forward and knelt down. Alec wordlessly drew her into his arms, holding her for a long minute. Then he pulled away and searched her face.
“He said you were here of your own accord … Is that true?”
She brushed the question away. “How badly are you hurt?”
Dried blood coated the floor. The chains.
“Most of it’s his.”
She drew a deep breath. “Tell me what happened.”
“I was at the Picatrix Club—”
“Are you the one….” Anne swallowed, her throat dry as dust. “Are you the one who stabbed him?”
Alec snorted in disgust. “I didn’t lay a hand on him except to inject him with morphine. I found him on the floor and I was trying to drag him out to the garden. Viv was supposed to be waiting there.”
She closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure what she might have done if Alec had said yes.
“I would have if I’d had the chance,” he added, “but we were swept apart. It was chaos, Anne.”
“You shouldn’t have taken his cross.” She frowned. “It was wrong.”
“It was impulsive. I sure as hell wish I hadn’t now.” Alec stared at her. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours,” she replied automatically, but it wasn’t true. She felt torn in half. “Did he use the chains to drain you?”
“No.”
Anne studied the length of black iron links, her skin crawling, and saw that the bracelet worn by the necromancer was around Alec’s ankle and the collar worn by the slave had been fixed to one of the stone support columns.
“He did this to you after the Picatrix?”
She thought of the condition she’d found Gabriel in. It was hard to believe.
Alec’s face hardened. “He’s an animal, Anne. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’d hit him with a full syringe!”
That wouldn’t stop Gabriel, she thought. Not right away, at least.
“But couldn’t you just have used the power on him—”
Alec held up his arm and pushed his shirtsleeve back. She saw a band of white skin … and no cuff.
And the truth hit her like a hammer blow.
“He took them. Vivienne’s and mine both. He hasn’t used them yet, but you have to help me get them back!” The raw desperation in his voice would have broken her heart if it hadn’t just fractured into a thousand pieces.
“I’ll handle Gabriel,” Anne said in a voice she barely recognized.
Anything else she could have forgiven. Anything. But this….
“Be careful. If you’d seen him at the Picatrix…. Are you even listening?”
“What did he say? Exactly?”
“That he didn’t want the cross anymore. Only the cuffs. That I could go find another set.” Alec’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t trust him, do you?”
“Of course not,” Anne snapped.
“Vivienne is close, I can feel her. She’ll be here soon—”
Anne stood and brushed off her skirts. “I’ll get them back for you, Alec.”
“Anne. Damnit, Anne! Come back….”
She strode through the lower level of the castle and emerged from the kitchen just as Gabriel entered through the front door. He was humming Rosa del ciel from L’Orfeo.
“Darling,” she said with a smile. “Oh, is that supper?”
He had a cloth bundle under one arm, a loaf of bread sticking out the top.
Gabriel’s face lit up when saw her. He pulled her into a kiss and Anne’s fury mounted at the flush spreading across her skin.
Pure animal lust, she thought savagely.
Gabriel pulled back, his gaze wary. “Are you all right, Anne?”
Her smile widened. It was the same smile she’d worn when she wanted to make him talk to her.
“I’ll just run along and dress, shall I?”
Gabriel gave her a last long look. “I’ll meet you in the tower then.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
She went upstairs and swiftly searched both bedrooms, finding nothing. He must have them on him.
Anne stared at the green dress for a long minute. Then she put it on, moving like an automaton, and sat down in front of the vanity. She twisted her hair into a chignon and pinned it up.
A single tear ran down her cheek. Anne brushed it away. Steeled herself.
Gabriel was waiting in their old dining room in the tower. A simple meal had been laid out on the table, things he’d bought in town. Bread, cheese, a bottle of wine.
How handsome he looked in his dark coat and snowy white shirt. She wondered how she could ever have thought him plain.
Gabriel pulled her chair out, then sat down across from her. He seemed on edge.
“I have to tell you something, Anne.” A pause. “Don’t be angry at me.”
“Don’t be angry at you?” She raised her eyebrows. “I wonder what it could be?”
She stood, bracing her palms on the table, and leaned towards him.
The narrow ring of gold in his irises seemed to gather the candlelight. Gabriel grew very still.
“Could it possibly be the fact that you made love to me while my brother was lying shackled in your wine cellar?”
“Anne—”
She summoned a wind, sending the plates smashing against the wall. “Where are the cuffs, Gabriel? Vivienne is coming here and she’ll rip you to pieces. Give them to me.”
“You betrayed me,” he growled, his chair grating back as he sprang to his feet.
“No, you betrayed me!”
Another gust knocked Gabriel back a step. A crack zigzagged through the stone between his legs.
“I’ll tear this tower down,” she seethed. “Bury us both.”
He threw his arms up. “Go ahead!”
“You stole their cuffs—”
Gabriel pulled out a leather bag and threw it at her feet, his accent thickening as it always did when he grew angry. “Fucking keep them, I don’t care. I just want you, Anne!”
She grabbed the bag and feinted for the door. He moved to block it and she ran up the winding stairs to the top of the tower, Gabriel in pursuit.
Anne backed against the parapet as he exploded from the doorway. Gabriel stopped ten paces away, breathing hard. His face was very pale. When he spoke, he’d mastered himself — if barely.
“When you first came here, I purposefully avoided you. I didn’t want to look at you, speak to you. I was … afraid of you, Anne. I’d never stopped thinking about you since the night we met.” He started to pace. “I just wanted to get rid of you.” A sharp gesture. “Finish it. So I sent two men to track down your brother but I had no idea he’d left on holiday. I only discovered later they’d all gone off to fucking Gran Canaria.”
Gabriel rarely cursed. It was a measure of his extreme agitation that he did so now. “Then Vivienne appeared at Saint George’s asking about you. She traveled with a man, but it wasn’t Alec Lawrence. What were the odds? They were never apart!”
Anne knew the truth of this. Bizarrely, her first thought was, Good for you, Alec, taking a holiday without her.
“I had no quarrel with Vivienne,” Gabriel continued. “I tried to make her leave, but she was relentless. Then she found your bracelet. It must have fallen off when I carried you back through the passages. She confronted me. And I thought of a better way to punish Alec.”
Gabriel smiled and for an instant Anne saw the harsh executioner who had passed judgment on so many of his fellow men.
“To bond my brother?” she demanded.
“No,” he said softly. “Worse. To keep the cuff and let the threat that I would hang over his head for all eternity. Never knowing when I might choose to put it on and sever him from the Nexus. Cause him unbearable agony.” Gabriel shrugged. “I wouldn’t have actually done it. I wish to be bonded to him as little as he wishes to be bonded to me. But he wouldn’t know that.”
Anne slowly shook her head. “You are the Devil.”
“Am I?” Gabriel scratched his ear. “Ah well, it seemed a fitting punishment at the time. But then I came to know you.” He sighed deeply and looked up at the sky. “How to explain? You made me remember what it’s like to be … human again. Just a man.”
She waited, listening with crossed arms.
“So I told myself, no! He’s your brother. I should show … mercy.” He said the word with a touch of wonder, as though it was some bird with exotic plumage he’d never seen before. “And I tried to, I tried, Anne, but when he attacked me at the Picatrix, I stopped caring. I thought I’d take his cuff too and use them myself.” He sighed. “Then I started to feel bad again. I was going to tell you before—”
“You lying bastard,” she growled. “You wanted my power.”
“If I wanted that, I could have forced you! I just…. I wanted you to stay with me, Anne. It was the only way I knew how—”
“You have no idea what the bond means to him. To Vivienne. It’s not like your chains. It’s a marriage of two souls! Without it, they’ll both die as surely as if you slit their throats yourself.” Her jaw clenched. “In truth, you know almost nothing about the bond, Gabriel. You don’t even know it can be used by one bonded to track the other. I never betrayed you. You betrayed yourself by bringing Alec here.
“But that’s not what….” Her voice nearly broke. “How could you ever imagine for one second that I would trade their happiness for my own? You don’t know me at all, Gabriel.”
And that was the worst of it.
Gabriel looked remorseful. “I’m sorry.” He took a step toward her. “Anne, I—”
Anne Lawrence wasn’t the sort to slap a man. She made a fist and punched him hard in the face. Gabriel rocked back on his heels. He touched his lip and his fingers came away red.
“Mon petit bête,” he whispered brokenly. “I just love you so fucking much.”
Anne grabbed his coat. And then her mouth was on Gabriel’s, his blood on her tongue, and she felt the wordless despair of the damned. She still wanted him despite his stupidity and recklessness. God help her, she still wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her very long life.
Gabriel pulled away, his breath ragged. “Come with me, Anne. Leave the cuffs. Just come. The ship is waiting.” He glanced out at the Channel, where a pinprick of light floated on the dark water.
“I can’t.”
“Then kill me!” He pulled a dagger from his belt and tore his shirt open, offering Anne the hilt. “Go on, do it! Carve my heart out. I won’t resist!”
From another man, the demand would be ridiculous melodrama. Anne knew Gabriel meant every word.
There was a crash at the base of the tower, like a heavy oaken door rebounding against a wall.
His head snapped toward the door as footsteps rang faintly on the stairs.
“Get behind me, Anne,” he said softly, and she sensed his hackles rising, knew more blood was about to be spilled. He’d endured too much in the last days. It had broken his self-control.
And who would she try to protect?
She gave him a push toward the parapet, sick with dread. “Just go, Gabriel!”
“Not without you!” His voice lowered, his eyes pleading. “You love me, Anne. You know you do.”
Yes, her heart whispered. And I would watch you kill my brother and his bonded, or them kill you, and there would never, ever be a way back. But perhaps I can still save you….
A sob tore from her throat. Anne grabbed the blade from his hand and drove it between his ribs to the hilt. Gabriel let out a hissing breath. He braced a hand on the parapet. His face turned to ash.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t love you. I want you gone. Now!”
The look in Gabriel’s eyes was a blade to her own heart. He threw his head back and … changed. His form seemed to shimmer. To blur at the edges. She blinked and in that brief instant, Gabriel was gone.
A great cat, tawny with jagged black stripes, crouched on the parapet.
A reflection of the man inside.
Gabriel’s soul was a fierce, terrifying, beautiful thing.
The heavy hindquarters bunched. Anne reached out, her fingertips brushing silken fur as it leapt over the edge. She gave a sharp cry and leaned out as far as she could, but the ground far below was lost in gloom.
“Anne!”
She dimly saw Vivienne and Alec and two strange men swarm onto the parapet. Anne picked up the bag with the cuffs and thrust it into Vivienne’s hands.
“I have to go,” Anne whispered, not trusting her own voice. “Don’t follow.”
She pushed past them all and dashed down the winding stairs, barely hearing the voices calling her name.
What if she was wrong?
What if he was too weakened?
The tower stood a hundred paces high.
Anne ran into the courtyard, terrified she would find a broken body sprawled on the flagstones, but the bailey was empty.
Empty save for a trail of blood leading out the postern gate to the steep path that wound down to the shore where they used to walk together.
She fell to her knees and wept bitterly, but Anne would never permit them to find her that way. So she stood and turned her back on Chateau de Saint-Évreux, walking out the gate and down the road, her skirts dragging through the dewy grass on the verge. It was still dark but dawn wasn’t far off. Her legs carried of their own accord, her mind lost in a labyrinth of memories.
Small things, but precious to her.
Gabriel chopping wood in his shirtsleeves, whistling a jaunty tune.
Gabriel sitting cross-legged on the floor with a needle and thread mending clothes or cleaning his boots while she read aloud to him.
Gabriel.
Killer. Lover. Soldier of God … and baker of birthday cakes with pink rosettes.
The memories drowned her.
It was the first time she’d been happy and she hadn’t had the sense to realize it.
Each day brought a new surprise. He had an ocean of blood on his hands … and a phobia of spiders. She’d found him standing sheepishly on a chair one morning, a razor in his hand and soap on his face. He’d refused to come down until she carried the creature outside, cupped in her palm and trying hard not to laugh.
“It’s the legs, Anne,” he confessed to her afterwards. “The tiny hairs….” Gabriel had given a convulsive shudder.
She understood it would take years to truly know him. Each time she peeled away a layer, there was one another waiting beneath.
And oh, how she wanted those years.
She’d never even asked his last name.
After a while, Anne saw the gates in the distance, wrenched half off their hinges. She had no idea where she planned to go. Only to keep walking until she ran out of road.
And then a sound made her turn.
A low, despairing howl.
The sound did not come again, but she marked the direction. She entered the forest, walking until she spied a stone structure through the trees. Anne went inside.
It held a barred animal enclosure, spacious and with fresh straw on the ground that was littered with gnawed bones. A second cage, covered in a length of oilcloth, sat empty to the side. Gabriel must have planned to bring it with them.
The beast sat on its haunches in the darkest corner. When it saw her, it growled deep in its throat.
A man-eater.
And what would become of him now that his master was gone?
A savage, uncaring pity rose up in her. Anne filled herself with wind and earth, filled herself to bursting. The cage door flew from its hinges, clattering against the stone wall. She held her ground, not blocking the way but unafraid.
Part of her would welcome his jaws around her throat.
The Beast of Gévaudan stared at her for a long minute. Then it crept into a shaft of pale morning light.
A wolf, but like no wolf Anne had ever seen. It was easily three times the size and with silver eyes like mirrors. A majestic creature. Its haunches bunched … and it sprang past her, arrowing away without a backward glance.
She watched it vanish through the trees.
“Go find her,” Anne whispered.