I thought I’d never be able to get that last kiss on Grove Lane out of my head.
It was one of those things that seem to ignite every cell at once and permanently alter thought processes and make shitty life events feel one hundred percent worth it because they all ultimately led to that. I experienced all of those things, and every time I replay the kiss in my head, I experience them all over again.
But even that kiss is wiped from my mind when Gabe and I finish telling Grayhem about the bizarre shit at the tree house and the man says not questioningly but knowingly, “You found one of the hidden gateways between our world and the Dark world.”
A long stretch of silence falls before Gabe stammers, “Did you—huh? You already knew about it?”
Grayhem isn’t a bad guy. Although he’s always more professional than fun, I like him pretty well and so does everyone else. But I am rendered totally speechless by how evenly he looks at Gabe from across his desk and admits, “I did.”
I glance to where Gabe sits beside me. He looks torn between being pained and being pissed off.
“Allow me to explain.” Grayhem takes his glasses off to look at both of us intently, but mostly at his chief Gatherer. “All the Lightforce Directors know about the gateways. I can honestly tell you I didn’t know we had one right under our noses—I had no idea there was even one in our state—and I greatly appreciate you coming to me with that information. However, I must ask you not to share it with anyone else. There’s a reason we’ve kept this knowledge from the general Light population.”
Gabe blinks slowly, and his eyes seem a smokier green than they were before. “Well, with all due respect, what the hell reason is that? Shouldn’t we know about things like gateways between the regular world and a world full of monsters?”
Grayhem doesn’t look offended by his vexation. He just asks patiently, “What is the purpose of the Light community?”
Not so patiently, Gabe answers, “To eliminate Hellions from this world.”
“At all costs, yes?”
“Yes,” he almost snaps.
“Our members fall away from their families, sever their friendships, and learn new and dangerous ways of living to ensure our purpose is fulfilled. It’s a crucial, all-consuming existence—but the number of people who know it is painfully small. Each Light person is immeasurably precious because they are one of so few.” Grayhem leans forward slightly. “Can you imagine what such dedicated people would do if they knew we had direct links to the Dark world? Can you imagine the urge they’d have to step through the gateway and launch an attack on the Hellions?”
The words send a hot tremor through me.
I’m still way new to this, but I’m not ignorant. My sister is in love with and pregnant by a Hellion, for God’s sake. So I can definitely see how strongly going in with guns blazing would appeal to people who have been doing this for years and years and years.
And one look at Gabe tells me he is one of those people. His fists are clenched, his veins standing out on the backs of his hands, his breathing tremulous. His eyes are full of the same determination I saw when he and I sparred, and just earlier in the woods when he turned away from the deteriorating body of that Hellion, his dagger still clutched confidently in his hand.
Grayhem notices this, too, and says softly, “We cannot risk such a reckless response from people, Gabe, and I know you understand that. You as you, not just as a Light person—you as the intelligent, benevolent, practical man I care for and trust. I know you understand the severity of this situation. I know you understand how imperative it is that our people be protected from their own passion, because if they storm into the Dark world instead of keeping both feet on the ground they’re meant to protect, they will be overpowered and stamped out.”
A deep frown creases Gabe’s forehead. His fists open a little and his shoulders drop the tiniest bit.
“Believe me,” Grayhem continues, “I know how incredible it is to realize the gateways exist and how infuriating it is to find you’ve been kept out of the loop about them. But this is something that must be kept secret.” He looks at me earnestly. “Mari, my dear, do you understand where I’m coming from?”
The question has me gripping the armrests of my chair.
I take a few seconds to push past the desire I already have to do my utmost to protect people, especially those I love, from the Hellions. In truth, I do see Grayhem’s point.
Shortly, I nod. “I understand.”
“Do I have your word that you’ll keep this to yourself and that you won’t try to go through the gateway?”
“Yes, sir,” I promise him.
Gabe lays a hand over mine where it sits on the armrest between us. His skin is hot, and he’s trembling somewhat. I look at him and see he’s already looking at me, his expression damn near unreadable because of all the emotions flitting across it.
I turn my hand over so our palms are pressed together. I understand his struggle, but I try to tell him without speaking aloud, ‘This is a secret we can keep. He’s right. We can’t suicide ourselves all over the Hellions’ doorstep.’
And I think he understands me somehow.
He looks at Grayhem, breathing deeply. “You have my word on that, too.”
The Director regards him with what looks to me like respect. “Thank you.”
Gabe nods and, to my pleasant surprise, gives the look back to the man. “Of course.”
Grayhem nods, too, before he looks at me. “Mari, dear, would you mind giving me just a minute with Gabe? I need to fill him in on some details about his upcoming trip.”
I stand up. “Yeah, I’ll just….” I motion to the hallway with my free hand and look down at Gabe. He gives me a smile as he lets go of my other hand.
I smile back. Then I step out of the office and shut the door behind me.
I wonder if he’s going to tell Grayhem we kind of, sort of, a little bit animatedly already told Wes and Beatrix about the gateway.
*
The instant I lay eyes on my newly-crafted dagger on Tuesday afternoon, something in me shifts. It hits me harder than ever that I am not the girl I used to be. As I look at the weapon, the notion of something in the universe looking at me and deeming me worthy of this responsibility makes my throat tighten with emotion.
And when I actually take it from Red, that emotion socks me in the stomach and almost makes me cry.
This thing was literally made for me. My hand fits around it like my skin fits around my hand. It’s an extension of me; it’s the extraordinary power in me made into something tangible. It will help me save lives.
“Whatcha think, Mari?” Red asks with a knowing grin on his face.
“I love it,” I say promptly.
“Beautiful, ain’t it?”
I give him a smile even though ‘beautiful’ doesn’t cut it.
He laughs. “Just wait’ll ya kill a Hellion with it. It’s a damn divine experience, I’m tellin’ ya.”
“When do I get to do that?” I feel only the tiniest twinge of nervousness. Mostly I feel good, excited. Having my dagger in my hand makes me feel even more powerful than I felt that day I used Gabe’s.
“That’ll be up to Beatrix, but my guess is it’ll be sometime today.”
I honestly don’t know how I’ll be able to wait another minute.
I make it through another minute, of course. In fact, I make it through many minutes—when Beatrix comes back from the restroom, she’s got both Wes and Gabe with her, and they want to chat briefly with Red and ooh-and-ahh over my dagger like they don’t have their own.
Then once the four of us have bid Red farewell and started back down the hall, they announce that they’ve got a gift for me.
In the receiving room, they present me with a brand-new, absolutely beautiful, absolutely badass black jacket. It’s made of smooth wool and it has pale blue polka dots on it. I get it on and find it fits me like a damn glove. On the inside are special pockets that are meant specifically for my Light weapons, so I slide my dagger and two vials of red powder into them. Their fit is as perfect as the jacket’s on me.
And this time, I can’t help crying. I just cannot help it.
“Oh, Mari!” Beatrix yelps, throwing a hug on me. “Don’t cry! It’ll make me cry!”
“I’m sorry. I’m just so happy,” I tell her. “You guys are the best. Thank you so much.”
“You deserve it,” she assures me, sounding tearful, indeed.
As she pulls away, I sniffle and duck my head rather than look at the guys. “Thank you, Wes and Gabe,” I say as I try to pull myself together. I clear my throat and wipe at my eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t cry all over you two.”
All three of them laugh.
I feel Gabe tug on the end of my ponytail. “We’re glad you like it,” he tells me. I can hear the smile in his voice.
“So now that you’ve got this jacket and your weapons,” Wes pipes up energetically, “I personally think it’s time we let you loose on a sick son of a bitch or two.”
“Oh, God, I wish I could watch,” Beatrix says, sounding melancholy.
“Why can’t you?” I finally feel okay enough to look up from the floor.
She gives me a smile, but it looks apologetic. “Honestly, darling, I was going to get in as much time with Wes as I can before he leaves.”
Oh, that’s right, I realize. They’re going to Dallas tomorrow.
“We thought I could take you out,” Gabe says to me, “if that’s okay with you.”
Like I’d be upset about spending time with him, especially when he’s about to be gone for who knows how long.
A chuckle escapes me before I say, “Of course that’s okay.” Then I smile at Wes and Beatrix. “I hope you two have a great time together.”
She gives me a grateful smile and curls both arms around one of his. Even though they’re always touching one another, I pick up on the sadness lying under this particular gesture. She isn’t a fan of this trip, either.
I don’t want to take up another minute of their alone time, so I draw a breath and look at Gabe. “Well, I’m ready whenever you are.”
I think he must feel how I feel, because he says easily, “I’m ready.”
As usual, we all walk up to the parking lot together and say our goodbyes. Beatrix tells me she’ll be here in the morning to see Wes and Gabe off, so she’ll see me then. And then we go our separate ways.
“Where to?” I ask once we’re in Gabe’s car.
“First things first,” he says as he looks at me sunnily. “Congratulations on getting your weapons.”
I try not to smile too widely. “Thank you.”
“And that jacket looks awesome on you.”
The smile inches further across my face. “Thank you.”
After a second of hesitation: “And I got you something just from me.”
“What?” The smile drops away, and my fingers fly fretfully to my hair. My face flushes because I’m as thrilled as I am nervous. “No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, actually.” He reaches into the backseat.
“You don’t have to buy me things,” I tell him earnestly. “I’m not that kind of—”
My words die off when he hands me a rectangle of the thin, simple, This Is Jewelry variety.
My pulse skips as I look at him.
Again, he hesitates before he speaks. His words are quiet. “I know I don’t have to buy you things. But aside from telling you about the Lightforce, I haven’t done a single thing with you or for you because I felt like I had to. Only because I sincerely, entirely wanted to.”
I want to say something in response to that. I really do. But I come up with absolutely nothing.
So I drop my eyes to the box and open it, my fingers trembling slightly.
Inside lies a necklace. A tiny round gemstone that’s so dark blue it nearly looks black hangs from a delicate white gold chain.
The piece is understated and pretty—no, it’s flawless. It screams my name. It screams Gabe’s name. It has my heartbeat tripping over itself even more.
“Do you like it?” he whispers nervously.
I drag my stare from the necklace to his face. “I—I love it,” I whisper back weakly.
He looks so happy it’s heart-wrenching to me.
“Can I put it on?” I ask, suddenly aching to get the necklace out of its box. “Can I wear it right now?”
“Yes,” he replies promptly. “Yeah, yes, please put it on. I’ll help you put it on.”
I don’t fight him on it. I need the help as much as he wants to give it to me. Once he’s got the necklace in his hands, I turn away from him and move my ponytail. He bends over to me, so close that his breath drifts over my hair and across my skin, and carefully loops the necklace around my neck.
“There,” he says after a few moments.
I face him again and gently tug on the short chain to get it in place. It’s so lightweight that I don’t feel it after I take my hand away. “How does it look?”
“Perfect.” He gives me a bright smile. “It looks perfect on you.”
I know the smile that comes onto my face mirrors his.
“Thank you so much for it.” The words are barely out of my mouth before I press my lips against his. He immediately returns the soft pressure.
It’s the first time we’ve kissed since he dropped me off at my room last night, and he seems to have missed it as much as I have.
As he touches his knuckles to my jaw, I briefly—selfishly—wonder how I’m going to get by without this while he’s gone.
When the kiss ends, he says, “You’re very welcome.” He leans back enough to look at me, then sighs heavily even though his eyes are untroubled. “We need to go find you a Hellion to kill.”
He traces my jawline with one fingertip. I have to fight not to let my eyes flutter closed, because he’s right. I’m a Defender now, and I have a job to do. “Okay.”
The fingertip moves to drift across my bottom lip, along with his gaze. “We can pick back up on this later if you want to,” he murmurs.
Something about the unassertive way he said that is downright sexy, and it’s a no-brainer if I ever encountered one. “Yes.”
Even after hearing that, it’s all over his face that he doesn’t want to lean back into his seat yet. But he does, giving me a soft smile as he goes.
“Then let’s go find some good-for-nothing bastard and dirty up your pretty new dagger.”
That mental image appeals to me quite a bit.
He can tell, and his smile widens. He gets us on the road, but not before he adds, “I know. Sounds fun.”
There may not be a Hellion within eyesight twenty-four-seven, but there’s no shortage of them. And, really, there’s no place they won’t go; bad people are everywhere, even in schools and churches and daycare centers. So our objective today isn’t to find just any Hellion and go after him—we need to find one that is on his own and in a place that doesn’t hugely risk exposing me when I attack him.
Gabe tells me to keep my eyes open for stray Hellions as we cruise down street after street. He tells me about the one he and Wes found a couple weeks ago that was sneaking into some alley with a teenage girl. His point: they could be anywhere doing anything.
We end up zeroing in on one hanging around the edge of the U of A campus, next to a cluster of buildings that look rather lonely. He’s not wearing anything but a pair of tattered shorts, so I’m afforded the stomach-turning sight of something meandering around under his gray skin like a long, scaly snake. He’s pacing between a truck that looks broken down and a building with a realtor’s sign in the front window, staring at two girls in the distance who are talking with their arms full of books.
We park and creep up on foot to spy on him from behind.
Before too long, one of the girls wanders off toward the heart of the campus, leaving the other to start toward us.
After a minute, we deduce she’s heading for a car parked a few buildings away from us on the other side of the street, right in the Hellion’s line of sight. The closer she gets, the more he lingers around the truck next to him, maybe trying to look like he’s having vehicle trouble. Who knows if the thing even belongs to him—what we know for sure is he’s got his eyes on the girl, whose blonde hair is fluttering in the cold wind like a flag.
“It’s time,” Gabe speaks lowly beside my ear. “You need to attack him from this direction and get him on the ground. The truck will block the fight from anyone else’s view. First use your red powder, and then finish him off with your dagger. B told me she explained this to you.”
I nod as I draw both of my weapons out of my jacket. “She did.”
“Great. So pour a little red powder into your hand…” he waits until I’ve done it to continue, “…and plan out your attack on him.”
I survey the Hellion while I seal the vial and pocket it. I do some quick thinking. He’s bigger than me, unsurprisingly, and he could probably pick me up and snap me in half with little effort. I need to avoid him so much as seeing me. And Gabe’s right: he needs to be on the ground. And the second he goes down is the second I need to end him. This can’t take a long time. So I need to cut right to the chase—no trying to look impressive.
“Got it,” I say as my strategy clicks into place.
“Then go. If you need me, I’ll jump in.”
Not unkindly, I tell him, “Won’t be necessary.” Then I sweep away from him.
The college girl is paying her surroundings very little attention. She’s preoccupied with not slipping on the snow and dropping her books, so the Hellion has no reason not to keep his eyes on her. This means he has his back squarely to me, not doing much more than shifting his weight from one foot to the other while he likely plans out how best to ensnare her.
I’m as quiet as the engine of this truck as I approach him, adrenaline seeping through my veins, both my mind and body preparing for anything. Preparing for him to start walking off, or to turn around and see me, or to call out to the girl and cause her to look this way and see me.
None of these things happen, though. So the instant I’m in place, I go for him.
I throw my red powder directly onto the backs of his legs, and he immediately erupts into screams. He has no time to figure out what’s attacked him before his flesh starts giving out, causing him to dip toward the sidewalk. My foot comes up to slam against his back and hasten his fall, and I use my full weight to stomp him down flat.
An enraged growl bursts from him as the thing slithering under his skin starts racing like a snake through water, but the most he accomplishes before I crouch on his back is flattening his palms against the ground to attempt to push up. Then I’m stabbing the place where his heart should be, and then again a few inches up, and again a few inches beside that.
And then it’s over.
My pulse is flying as I leap away from him. He breaks up into chunks and fluttery bits of disgustingness. I prepare to take care of that gross snake thing if it managed to survive.
Nothing else happens, though. The remnants of the Hellion just scatter across the sidewalk in the wind until they’re gone.
‘Divine experience’ in-fucking-deed, Red.
Breathing deeply, my body alight with triumph, I look around me. The blonde girl is obliviously shutting herself into her car. There are no people, normal or otherwise, peering at me suspiciously. There is only me—and Gabe.
I turn to find him leaning against the building I left him by, arms crossed, hair growing extremely messy in the wind. There’s a grin on his face.
“What do you think?” I ask as I walk up to him.
“It was great, just like I knew it’d be. I really enjoyed watching you kick him down to the ground.”
I chuckle and hold up my dagger, which actually isn’t dirty at all despite what he said back at the Sanctum. It isn’t even distressed. “What’s up with there not being a blessed thing on this blade?”
“It’s a mystery.” He reaches out to run a fingertip along the gorgeous metal. “Can’t smudge it, can’t scratch it. But Hellions don’t bleed because they’re not really alive, right? So no blood from them. Some of them have pus or really nasty ooze on them, so that’ll get on your dagger, but it just washes off.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Pleasant.”
“You know it.”
I sheathe my dagger and put it in my jacket. (God, do I love this jacket. And my dagger. And the fact that I just killed a Hellion all by myself.) “So I did okay, then? You didn’t see anything I should improve on or…?”
Gabe shakes his head. “It was perfect.”
“You just saying that?”
He levels a serious look on me. “I would never, especially not about something this important. If you’d done something wrong, I would’ve noticed it and told you about it so it doesn’t happen again.”
I believe him.
I give him a smile as we start back to his car. “Well, what now?”
Smiling, too, he replies, “I was thinking we’d go over to the Greek Theatre for a little bit. See if we can spot anyone of interest to us.”
“Ah, man, I love that place.” I’ve loved it since the second I first laid eyes on it back when I was experimenting with college classes. I miss it almost as much as that poetry class I took.
We drive over to it and see many (normal) students sitting on the stone benches, which have to be freezing cold. Everyone is dressed warmly, though, and some people are even laughing or chattering in groups—proof that this weather can’t stop college life.
As Gabe and I mosey across the stage area, I think back on the time I spent here. I was just like the other students, just like every one of my friends—like pretty much anyone, really. I was still considering the question, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ Still trying my damnedest to figure out my answer.
I’ve always wondered why people ask little kids that question. Do they ask it hoping they’ll say something cute like, ‘I want to be the person who cooks the Mickey Mouse pancakes at Disneyland!’ or something ambitious like, ‘I want to deliver food to hungry people in other countries!’? Or do they ask it to try to gauge what their kid’s future might actually look like? Would the parents of the Mickey Mouse pancake girl simply laugh because what kid doesn’t want to be around Mickey Mouse pancakes all day, or would they take the answer seriously and start making plans for her to attend culinary school? If another child stomped around his house in his daddy’s shiny black shoes screaming, ‘I object!’ to everything, would his parents see that as some sign that he’s destined to be a lawyer like his father, or would they record a few funny videos and chalk it up to simple and probably temporary imitation of the man of the house?
I don’t really remember my parents asking me what I wanted to be when I grew up, but I suppose they probably did. I wish they were still here to tell me what I said. Was I cute or ambitious? Was my answer that of a daydreamer or of a young girl determined to be classically important?
While I was here, I took several different classes to get a feel for what interested me. Nothing really did deeply interest me, though—not enough to start thinking about it for a career. Or maybe I just didn’t take that one earth-moving class, since I only took two or three each semester I was here. Nevertheless, being here again reminds me of how I never really picked a profession, how I can’t seem to remember ever declaring that I wanted to be a doctor or a sculptor, or anything.
Something Beatrix said to me the other day creeps out from one of the corners of my mind—something about the Lightforce being where I was always meant to end up. And I let myself wonder for a few dreamy seconds if there really is such a thing as fate, and if it was behind me never figuring out my future while I was normal.
“This really is an awesome place,” Gabe comments.
We stop walking to look up at the words engraved above all the stone pillars: ‘KNOWLEDGE, INTEGRITY, COURAGE, CULTURE, INTELLIGENCE.’
He turns to peer out at the sea of benches curving around the stage. “Imagine performing something up here in front of hundreds of people.”
“What would you perform? Would you play the piano?”
“I don’t know,” he replies thoughtfully. “Would you recite poetry?”
I chuckle. “Maybe.”
“I’d clap the loudest. And yell your name, too, while waving around a sign with your name actually on it.”
My chuckle grows into a real laugh. I imagine him standing up and cheering for me with everyone else sitting there wondering about his mental health. Before I know it, I’m dropping my head back and laughing heartily.
“What?” he asks. I feel his hands drop gently onto my shoulders, and I straighten up to find him right in front of me, smiling. “You think I’m kidding?”
“No. Actually, I was picturing what that would look like.” I sigh. “Cracked me up.”
He chortles and studies me, not taking his hands off my shoulders. I seize the opportunity to enjoy the view for myself. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at Gabe; every time I see him, I feel like he’s gotten a little more irresistible. And sometimes it’s just silly, like when I first saw him today at the Sanctum and couldn’t quit thinking his shoes looked good on him. At this particular moment, his way-mussed hair is mesmerizing me.
I’m in the middle of debating whether or not I should reach up and run my fingers through it when he asks, “Can I call you while I’m in Dallas?”
I blink as my thoughts leave his hair. “Uh—I—yes,” I stammer like a moron. “Of course you can.”
“What if I call you every day?” He doesn’t bother trying to play that off as purely hypothetical.
I shrug and tell him unabashedly, “I hope you do. I’m used to seeing you every day.”
“And if I call twice a day?”
I reach up to touch his hands where they still rest on my shoulders. “Do it. You won’t hear me complaining.”
His hands move up to gently cradle my face. “Then I’ll go ahead and warn you: I’ll be calling you twice a day.”
“I have been warned.” My eyes flicker to his mouth of their own accord.
Having caught it, he gives me a flirty smile and bends down to kiss me.
Before he can, a voice says, “Mari?” from behind him. And it actually does sound warning.
Gabe looks as confused as I feel. I cover his hands with mine before he lowers them so we can look around to see who sounds so aggravated with me.
Aaaand it’s Rafe.
I blink slowly and wonder 1) how the hell he even came across me here, and 2) why he thinks he has any right to interfere with me and Gabe. Which, by the way, is what the entirety of his body language says he’s trying to do.
Of fucking course.
“What?” I don’t ask nicely.
He gestures to Gabe. “Are you fucking kidding me with this? Did I or did I not talk to you specifically about him?”
Gabe straightens up and lets go of my hands.
“We need to talk,” Rafe says to me, jabbing a thumb back the way he came. “Again. Now.”
I laugh humorlessly. “Uh, absolutely not. Leave me alone.”
He strides over to us, eyes flickering angrily between me and Gabe. “You’re a fucking idiot to ask me to do that. You have no idea what you’re doing, and it’s my—”
Gabe’s arm shoots out between me and Rafe, who quiets and stops walking. “That’s enough,” he says, his tone even. I don’t have to see his expression to know he’s not pleased.
Slowly and with flashing eyes, Rafe counters, “You will not tell me how to behave when the girl I love is in danger.”
My mouth falls open. Gabe’s hand curls into a fist and Rafe glares at him with absurd defiance.
For several seconds, none of us say anything else.
Then I find my voice and state, “Rafe, if you don’t step off within the next five seconds, I’m going to beat the ever-loving hell out of you.”
His eyes snap to me and soften the tiniest bit. “Mari, this guy—”
“Is this the guy who cheated on you?” Gabe interrupts him.
I say, “It is,” and Rafe turns livid.
Gabe lowers his arm and turns to look at me.
I’m surprised to see he’s fighting a smile.
More quietly, he clarifies, “This guy who says he loves you is the one who cheated on you, and even though he cheated on you in your bed—” his eyes light up and he presses a hand over his mouth to hide his growing smile, “—he thinks I am going to hurt you.”
His amusement is contagious. I can’t make good on my threat to beat Rafe’s ass or even feel a twinge of pain over what he did, because I’m totally distracted by Gabe. I try to stifle a giggle, but I fail, so I press my lips together and nod, my shoulders shaking with chuckles.
He lets out a laugh and reaches up to caress one of my cheekbones.
“Don’t you touch her, you son of a bitch!”
Gabe does it anyway—draws a long, tender, promising line across my skin. Then he drops his hand from my face and turns back around to Rafe.
“Here’s the thing,” he says, his amusement audibly fading. “I will leave Marienne alone the second she asks me to, but whether or not that happens has nothing to do with you. You need to worry about how many boundaries you’ve overstepped and figure out how to avoid continuing to do so.”
“No, fuck you!” Rafe shouts, his voice echoing around the Greek Theatre, probably garnering the attention of anyone not already interested in this stupid fucking argument. “I haven’t done anything but try to protect her even though she broke up with me! Three months isn’t long enough to make me forget about her! Yeah, I fucking cheated on her, I get it, but that’s none of your goddamn business and neither is she!”
I nearly resume giggling at how he’s just announcing his stupidity to these strangers.
But then he’s moving toward Gabe with balled-up fists and violent eyes and an angry, “Let’s just settle this right now.”
And I’m not tickled anymore.
In half a second, I’m between them, my back pressed against Gabe’s chest and my own chest heaving with a new rush of anger. “Rafe, get back,” I growl right as he cocks a fist back.
He almost isn’t able to stop it from flying forward. “Mari, get out of the fucking way! I’m handling this whether you like it or not!”
He has the gall to lay a hand on my arm to move me, and it enrages me.
I knock his hand off and shove him back with my free palm. Then with both palms. Then I slap him across the face and then backhand him so hard the bones in my hand scream in pain.
“Mari, what the fuck!” he shouts. “Stop!”
I point a finger in his face and counter wrathfully, “You stop. You stop this shit right now, or I will hit you in the face for every single maddening thing you’ve ever said and then put on some giant-ass costume jewelry rings and hit you again for every unacceptable thing you’ve ever done.”
He stares at me with eyes so wide I don’t know how they’re still in his head.
“And that is a long list of things,” I inform him before I turn around and stride back to Gabe.
Rafe says nothing as we leave.
A few people seated on the benches giggle and one girl remarks, “You’re a total badass, girl!”
But I don’t say anything back or even look at anyone, including Gabe. I just walk and walk and walk, my hand wrapped in his, my heart racing with everything from anger to satisfaction to embarrassment.
We’re in the car in no time at all, and as soon as the doors are shut, I’m talking.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry about him. I don’t know what his problem is, but I guess he’s crazy, and I can’t believe he talked to you like that and actually tried to hit you. I’m—I’m just—”
The end of the sentence won’t come to me, and I still can’t look at Gabe.
At length, he suggests, “Maybe we should just go back to the Sanctum. You killed a Hellion like we wanted. We can find something to watch on TV.”
I nod way too many times, worry running wild in my mind.
It worsens when I remember he doesn’t even watch TV.
Oh, please don’t let this be some kind of This Is Goodbye Because Fuck Your Drama thing, I beg God. Please don’t let Rafe have run him off from me.
Hey, he didn’t freak out about your car accident, I remind myself. Surely he can handle some dumbass, jealous-ass ex-boyfriend.
We don’t say anything on the drive. We just listen to music. I let myself get lost in “Echo” by Trapt (I love it when Gabe and I turn out to like the same songs) and try not to get too overwhelmed by everything. Like the excitement of my first official Hellion kill, and the stress of having discovered the gateway to the Dark world, and the sentiment behind the gifts I received today, and what just transpired with Rafe, and Gabe being directly confronted by him, and the fact that Gabe is leaving tomorrow for a Lightforce mission that feels dangerous to me.
He and I end up in the lounge on the residential hall. Even though I’ve been told a couple of people live at the Sanctum like I do, I never see them, not even in the laundry room, so the lounge is lonely.
We take our jackets off, sit side by side on one of the couches (that’s encouraging, at least), and flip through the channels on the TV.
I try to care about what’s on, but I don’t do very well.
Gabe settles on something, but then he says, “Marienne,” and when I look at him, I see he doesn’t look like he cares, either. I briefly wonder if he even knows what program he picked, since he’s so unused to watching TV.
I try to swallow my nerves. “Yeah?”
“I need to tell you something.”
Don’t be nervous. Don’t be nervous.
The word, “Okay,” is barely a whisper.
He mutes the TV. “Well…so…I—I know I bought you that necklace,” he stammers, “and I know I’ve taken you out and kissed you and—and we agreed that we’d talk on the phone while I’m gone and everything.”
As painfully as my stomach twists, I can’t take my eyes off of him. I just nod a little. “Mmm.”
He looks right back at me even though he’s clearly nervous. “But I want to be very honest with you. I need to just say it because I need you to understand that this isn’t—that you aren’t—especially after what happened back there—”
“Um,” I mumble, my hands flying up to my hair.
His hands close around mine. “Marienne, I—”
“Is this not what you want?” I blurt out. My heart is suddenly racing, and I don’t want to look at him while I ask this, but I still can’t look away. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me? That you’ve had fun with me, but you don’t want me to get the wrong idea and Rafe was too much and you don’t have time for this anymore?”
He doesn’t say anything.
Motherfuck—
“No, that’s not what I’m trying to tell you.”
His tone is suddenly lighter than it was. Upon refocusing on his face, I see his expression is calmer, too.
“I’m…I’m trying to tell you this is what I want.”
The tension strapped around me loosens, but that’s all I can comprehend before he leans closer, seemingly having more to say. His gaze moves easily over my face.
“I’m trying to tell you I mean everything. The necklace, our dates, all of that—they’re not empty gestures. I don’t feel like this is a fling or whatever. I don’t want it to be, and I want you to know it so that….” He sighs. His hands are cool but steady as they release mine to frame my face, and his voice drops softer. “I want you to know how I feel because if you don’t feel the same way—just—if you don’t want me to keep falling for you, for whatever reason, you gotta tell me right now.”
I think my heart misses a beat.
“If it’s just me, I’ll—I’ll try to work on it or something. Friends, maybe…?” He frowns. “Just be honest with me. Please.”
Peace and wild hope and happiness and longing hit me like great waves in the ocean. They leave me without a clue about what I should say after something like that. But I try to think of something. I try and try and try—because I have answers, I just don’t quite know how to piece them together to form a coherent sentence.
His hands on my face seem to tremble. “Marienne?” he says unsurely.
Not unsurely, I manage to say, “Gabe.” And then words are coming out of my mouth in a stream I can’t control. “Oh, God, I do feel that way. I do not want to just be your friend. I adore you kind of a lot and I appreciate you saying you’ll leave me alone if I ask you to, but I don’t want to ask you to leave me alone because this isn’t a fling for me, either. It’s—it’s—you are significant. I haven’t stopped tripping over you since I saw you fighting those two Hellions. And in case you didn’t notice, I physically assaulted and threatened someone today because he was trying to hurt you and it made me—”
His mouth on my mouth cuts me off, firm and warm and perfect.
I instinctively curve toward him and he shifts to face me better, kissing me hard, like he’s missed me even though I haven’t gone anywhere. And while I kiss him back and let him draw me closer, I try to memorize him and how this feels, because he will be leaving.
Oh, God, I don’t want him to go.
I’ve just lifted a hand to his hair when he pulls away so he can look at me. His expression is radiant and amused.
“When you jumped between him and me,” he says, “I almost busted out laughing just at the thought of the ass-kicking he was about to get. And I don’t think he knew what hit him even after you bitched him out.”
I smile and feel another flutter of satisfaction, but mostly I’m awed by how he’s looking at me. “Yeah….”
“I wanted to tell you how amazing you were, but I couldn’t get it out. I was too dazed.” He pauses. “And too distracted by how hot it was.”
My eyes widen in surprise, and I don’t think there’s a single place on me that escapes a flush.
Faint color touches his face, too, and he laughs a little. “You’re the only person who’s ever stood in front of me like that. It’s not my fault I think it’s awesome. It was awesome on Blossombranch, too.”
I grin at him. No, I don’t imagine he ever does need anyone to fling their body between him and danger—especially not little things like me. But he’s right: whether the situation involves Hellions or angry guys, I can’t seem to help myself.
I close my eyes as he presses a kiss to my still-blazing cheek.
More slowly, he kisses my temple.
Then his lips move closer to my ear, and I’m pretty sure I’m in danger of melting.
He sounds more solemn when he mumbles to me, “No one has ever said they adore me before.”
I draw a breath as slowly and quietly as I can. It’s not easy to do. My lungs are starving for the air; God only knows how I didn’t realize sooner that I was holding my breath.
I sound faint when I tell him, “I don’t know how that’s possible, but…I’m happy it was me.”
His arms coil strongly around me and pull me into a hug. I move the hand I don’t have in his hair around to the space between his shoulder blades.
The words, “So am I,” rumble through him to me.
For a minute, we just hug each other. I can feel both of our heartbeats, and I love it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. It’s another thing I’m going to miss when he leaves.
Eventually, we untangle ourselves from the embrace just enough for our mouths to start moving together again.
Something about it is more intimate than any other time we kissed. We kiss each other languidly and tenderly, still chest-to-chest. He holds me against him like I’m precious to him, but he’s the one who’s exquisite.
I hope he can sense how deeply I believe that, because he needs to know it. Even if he never boasts it to the world, I want him to know it for himself.
We stay this way for a long time, and the way we treat each other is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s almost lazy, even when our kisses are open-mouthed and deep. Just easy, like breathing. Neither of us pushes the other further or kisses any faster, even when one of my legs moves up to drape across his lap. He just bends his hand around the back of my knee and keeps me close, and I let one of mine graze against the light scruff on his jawline, down his throat to the curve of his collarbone.
He smiles against my lips, and I have to smile back, and I know that the Marienne Rose Connor of the Now Times is the best version of me the world has seen so far.
I’ve never been promiscuous, but I did have one nice boyfriend a few years ago who I went all the way with, and it’s not like I’ve never made out with anyone before. But Gabe makes me feel like that’s not quite true. With him I feel better, lovelier, more important, like the past doesn’t matter very much. He makes me feel like a color-by-numbers picture that others have left blank because only he understands how to fill it in. I decide I need to tell him that, so I do.
A warm laugh reverberates through him to me. He tells me that might be the best thing he’s ever heard. Then he presses a kiss to my bottom lip and tells me more quietly that I color him in, too, big places and tiny places alike. And that touches my heart.
The memories stay with me through the night and into the next morning. And as Beatrix and I watch Wes and Gabe drive away for Dallas, I reach for those warm echoes—and those of the days before—instead of giving myself over to the foreboding feeling scratching at my insides.