The Forsaken by Laura Thalassa
“There she is. Ah, consort, you have fire to match my own.”
“Go to hell.”
Deliberately I turned my back on him.
“Not without you,” I thought I heard him say.
My spine stiffened, but I didn’t pause, even as his voice resonated behind me. “Gabrielle, the sands of your life are running out. Eat, drink, be merry—you have a day. Then you are mine.”
Chapter 28
I woke with a gasp. Sweat beaded along my skin, chilling my already cold skin. It had dampened the sheets while I slept, like even the most unconscious parts of me feared what would happen …
Tonight.
Bile rose at my encounter with the devil the night before. I put a hand to my face. I’d have to be near that for an eternity.
An eternity.
I couldn’t keep down my rising sickness. I threw off my covers and ran across Andre’s room and into to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time. I leaned over the porcelain rim and vomited up blood and bile.
“Soulmate?”
A shirtless Andre stood in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes darted from me to the toilet, then back.
I flushed down the evidence of my sickness and pushed myself up on shaky legs, but halfway there, they buckled.
Andre was next to me in an instant, wrapping me in his arms. He pressed my face into his chest, cradling it gently. And that was about when I lost it.
I began to cry heavy, gut-wrenching sobs. It was all falling apart. What was life for if it could be snatched away so quickly? Why was it so ghastly?
Andre held me, rocking us and rubbing my back while he whispered things in languages I didn’t understand.
He still had no clue what deal I’d made with the devil. We’d both been so busy; it was just one of many things that got shelved for later. Not that it mattered. Even if I wasn’t walking to my death later tonight, I’d still be doomed. The blood he’d given me only a week ago had been changing me at an accelerated rate, killing me in the process.
Andre trembled as he held me, and I took some strange comfort from the fact that he was just as scared as I was. At least we had camaraderie.
Andre leaned his head against mine. “You were right, as usual. I never should’ve agreed to this celebration.”
I laughed—one of those thick, choked ones you let out after a good cry just so that you can hear the sound of happiness again. Because you need something to shake off the terrible sadness within you. “I think I could use a break from all this fighting and fleeing.”
One of Andre’s eyebrows arched. “I could help with that. You know, I have some really good ideas when it comes to these things.”
I bit back a reluctant grin. “Oh, I’m sure you do, and I’m eager to hear about them.”
“Good.” Pressing a firm kiss to my lips, Andre scooped me up and took me back to the bed.
Several hours later I pulled on the backless white gown laid out for me, my hands shaking as I did so. Someone had left it on the bed while I’d been in the shower. The material clung to me, exaggerating every pleasing line of my form.
That painting of Andre watched me the entire time. I swear tonight his eyes seemed sadder than usual.
There I went—projecting.
I could hear the sounds of conversation drifting in from the front of Bishopcourt, where guests gathered. Andre was already out there welcoming them; he’d insisted I take my time, and I was grateful for it. I had business to get in order before I made my appearance.
I slipped on the shoes and undergarments that went with the dress then headed into the bathroom.
When I caught a glimpse of my reflection, I paused. I looked unearthly—more so than usual. My features were exaggerated. My cheekbones were more pronounced, my alabaster skin exceptionally pale from lack of blood, my spooked eyes a bit wider than they’d been before. All of it shrouded by a mane of loose curls.
Death suits you. The voice that brushed against my ear wasn’t my own.
I gritted my teeth. The devil was there, lingering just beyond my reach. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting … until I was his.
And tonight I had to go to him. Tonight, I had to die.
I snuck into Andre’s study, using his private line to place a call to the U.S. I fingered the Egyptian statue perched on his desk. The line rang and rang.
I squeezed my forehead when I remembered that my adoptive mother would still be at work. Perhaps it was better this way.
My heart was in my throat when her recorded voice came on the line, asking the caller to leave a message. It held none of the beguiling beauty that my biological mom’s did, but it was so beloved. It was the same voice that had spoke soothingly to me when I was sick and scolded me when I was being a little punk.
Was this the last time I’d ever hear it? And was it twisted that I actually wished it might be? Because I hoped never to see a loved one in the place I was going.
The phone beeped, indicating that I was to begin my message.
“Mom—” I croaked. I cleared my voice and began again. “Hey Mom. Sorry I forgot to call you on New Year’s”—I’d spent it dodging arrows and fleeing attackers—“I just wanted to tell you that I love you so much. I haven’t told you that enough, and I miss you like crazy.” A tear trickled out. “I hope your New Year’s went well. I’ll talk to you … later. Bye.”
I hung up the phone, breathing heavily. I wiped the tear off with the back of my hand. That message was totally going to freak her out. She’d be on the phone in an instant, calling me back, only to be sent directly to voicemail … because that phone had been destroyed. It would only wig her out more. Rightfully so—she’d never speak to me again.
I ran my hands through my hair, pushing strands away from my forehead. Don’t go there.
I needed to pull myself together. I still had one more person that I needed to leave a message with.
I blew out a breath and grabbed a sheet of paper from one of Andre’s desk drawers and searched for a pen.
Instead my eyes landed on an ink well.
Damn.
“Stupid fucking quill,” I cursed as another globe of ink obscured the “A” in Andre’s name.
Already I was regretting this note.
Why Andre kept quills around when there was such a thing as computers, or even—hey—ballpoint pens was beyond me.
He wanted to channel his inner geezer, apparently.
And to think I needed to scribe an official plea using the angelic quill waiting for me back at Jericho’s Emporium. I was done for.
Shut up, brain. No one asked you for your opinion.
I bit my lip and scribbled the rest of the note as fast as possible.
By the time I was done, I had ink on my fingertips and some lines of text had smeared onto my dress. Nailed it.
I appraised the letter. It was a train wreck. Smudged letters and giant globes of ink made the thing almost illegible. Almost. But not quite. I read over the words. This was all he’d get—a final, parting note.
On it I divulged everything I’d kept from him up until now. My deal with the devil, and the gift kept under lock and key that I was to collect only once I died. I even mentioned the possibility that my death might not be the end of me.
I bit my lip. Perhaps it was cruel to give him hope when I really had no idea what the future held.
It’d have to do because time was up.
I eyed the stick of red wax and the partially burnt candle resting next to the ink well.
Not even going to attempt it.
I headed back to our room and propped the note on the bed. I stared at it, biting the inside of my cheek until I drew blood.
Keep it together. I’d face down fate with my shoulders back; I wouldn’t let anyone see me crack, especially not the devil.
My breaths came in short, soft bursts. I blinked as fatigue washed over me. Other than water, I hadn’t eaten or drank anything in over a day.
I sat down on the edge of th
Time to make an appearance.
I staggered down the hallway, my gown swishing around me. My breath still came in ragged pants.
Something felt … wrong. My heartbeat palpitated strangely. I moved my hand to rub my chest.
Just as I touched the fabric of my gown, my heart altogether stopped.
Flat lining. I was flat lining.
I stumbled. Fell. I choked on my breath as my chest seized up.
No one was coming back here. This section of Bishopcourt was too private. Not even Andre would venture this way, not until our connection did something funky, and it hadn’t—yet.
A burning pain spread through my body. My eyes fluttered and black spots clouded my vision.
I pounded my fist on my chest. Nothing. The spots that danced in front of me were spreading. I pounded again.
After a moment, my heart thumped once … then twice. Slowly, the spots dissipated as my heartbeat fell back into rhythm.
I leaned against the wall and caught my breath. A body doesn’t run properly with a sluggish heartbeat. Mine was no exception.
I stayed there, catching my breath, for another five minutes, and then, shakily, I rose to my feet.
I wiped the cold sweat off my brow and resumed walking haltingly towards the ballroom.
As soon as people caught sight of me, conversations escalated, eyes lingered. I’d been infamous, hated, and now I was intriguing. Andre de Leon’s soulmate, the devil’s consort. The anti-Christ.
Some of those nearest me flared their nostrils as I passed, and I could see their pitying glances in my periphery. The smell of sickness clung to me.
Across the room Andre caught my eye. I sucked in a breath at the sight of him.
It wasn’t the first time I’d seen Andre in a tux, but his appearance always left me speechless. He cleaned up nicely.
He smiled at me, the action crinkling the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and pressing in the skin of his cheeks. He had no idea I’d collapsed outside his room mere minutes ago.
A wicked gleam entered his eyes as his gaze moved over me, and I could practically feel him mentally undressing me across the room.
Keeping it classy, that one.
“Yoo-hoo! Penelope—er, crap, I mean Persephone—doomsday princess!”
My gaze drifted towards the speaker, but then Andre patted the shoulder of the man he was talking to and began to prowl my way. Totally not going to miss that walk. There are only so many times I could openly check out this man’s stride, and this might be one of my last.
“She’s ignoring me. Yo, Queen of the Damned!”
My attention turned back to the voice, which belonged to a certain fairy with ice blond hair and extra-sparkly skin. Next to him Leanne waved at me, grinning like an idiot. Judging by their appearances, the two of them had gotten their party on elsewhere and brought it here.
I laughed at the sight of them, the heavy cloud hanging over me temporarily lifting. I pushed through the throngs of people, nodding and giving guests cordial smiles, to get to my friends.
They both latched onto me. “I am higher than a kite,” Oliver said.
“Proud friend moment,” I said sarcastically.
“Blame her!” he pointed to Leanne. “She thought it would be fun to pregame your wedding.”
When my eyes met Leanne’s she giggled, but then her smile faltered.
Somehow she knew. Even though the seer’s shroud was still in my system, she must’ve foreseen something—maybe someone else’s future—and pieced it together. I’d bet money she drank to escape the vision, or to pretend it all away. And Oliver, being Oliver, hopped right onboard with 110 percent enthusiasm.
“Not a wedding, Oliver,” I said, turning back to the fairy. Leanne’s haunted eyes couldn’t scare me any longer because I already knew.
“Pfft. As if you are not going to christen that bed of yours later tonight.”
I ducked my head. “Oliver—ssssh.”
Oliver pointed to me. “Ha! Haven’t lost my touch.” He buffed his nails on his suit. “I can still make you embarrassed like a little schoolgirl.”
“Up until about a week ago I was a schoolgirl.”
“Up until about a week ago you were also a vir-gin!” His voice rose at the end of the statement, and nearby guests swiveled at the sound, raising their eyebrows when they saw me.
“Where is that slice of sex pie?” Oliver stood on tiptoes and peered over the crowd. “Oh, oh! I see him! Crap, he’s walking away.”
Hoofing it out of Oliver’s vicinity most likely. Smart vampire.
“Mmm, hubba hubba,” he said. “’Dat ass.”
I put my forehead in my hand. Sober Oliver was a handful. Smashed Oliver was insane.
“Hey, I think he flipped me off.” Oliver pouted.
“That’s because he can hear you.”
“I paid him a compliment.”
Leanne snorted. “You were objectifying him,” she said. “There’s a difference.”
“Ugh, I swear you gave up fun-ness along with pettiness. Now when is this party going to start? I’m bored.” Oliver glanced around, only stopping to do a double take when his eyes landed on a vampire standing close by.
“Whoa, is that blood?” he asked the vampire loudly, pressing in way too close to peer into the man’s drink.
The vampire curled his upper lip and let out a slight hiss.
“Whoa,” Oliver held his hands up, “no offense meant. That’s, you know, … chic … in like an emo-hispter-gothy-creepy way …”
Oliver continued to talk, and I used the moment to pull Leanne aside.
Our eyes met, and the lightness of Oliver’s company fell away.
“I know about tonight,” I said softly, though my words weren’t necessary.
Remorse shone in her eyes. “I foresaw the evening play out earlier,” she admitted. Save for the devil himself, she was the only person who knew what would happen to me tonight. She’d be the only person I’d get a real goodbye with.
I hauled her in for a hug. We clasped each other tightly.
Pulling away, Leanne drew in a ragged breath. “For the record, I’ve never had a female best friend until I met you. And … it’s been really great.”
I laughed even as I sniffled. “So great.”
She took my hands and squeezed them. “Safe travels,” she whispered, just as she had the night of Samhain.
I nodded and gave her a closed-lipped smile. “I’ll give ’em hell.”
Andre headed back to his room—their room—looking for that damn iPod. He’d uploaded it with all of Celeste’s songs just so his mate could know the voice of the woman who loved her first.
He’d meant to give it to her earlier, but the damn thing had grown legs and disappeared, and it wasn’t until last night that he’d found it sitting in its package in the library as though it hadn’t been moved in the first place. Had the iPod been in any other room, Andre might’ve worried.
He’d headed out to greet the guests this evening without the device, and he nearly made a fool of himself only moments ago. Had the fairy not shown up, he would’ve swept Gabrielle up in his arms, then reached into his coat pocket to procure a gift that wasn’t there.
He reached the door to their room and slipped inside. Instead of finding the iPod, he found a letter, carefully folded on the bed. He could smell her scent on it. A corner of his mouth quirked. She’d written him a note. Just when he was convinced she was a child of this century, she went and did something like this.
He could see his name scrawled along the front, partially obscured by a drop of ink. The sight made him grin.
He opened the letter up. The smile immediately left his face.
Andre,
If you are reading this, then I am dead. There are things you need to know, things that I’ve kept from you, but things that might now give you hope …
Chapter
“A string quartet? A string quartet?” Oliver eyed the group of musicians gathered in the corner with obvious disdain. “You’ve got to be kidding me. And blood? Where’s the Jäger and the strobe lights? The nearly-naked men and the drugs? This fairy wants to do body shots, then roll!”
“Oliver, this is a celebration, not a rager—” My heart shuddered then skipped a beat.
Damn. It was happening again.
I leaned a heavy arm on Oliver’s shoulder.
“Sweets?” He sobered in an instant.
Next to him Leanne watched me, the whites of her eyes visible.
“Give me—a second.”
The pain burning through my chest abated somewhat, and I straightened. I backed up, bumping into a nearby vampire.
Oliver reached out. “Gabrielle!” He never used my actual name, which meant he was legitimately worried.
“I’ll be back—with your Jäger and half-clad men.” The joke fell flat.
He dropped his hand. “Don’t forget the drugs.” His joke fell flat too.
I shoved my way through the crowd. My eyes scanned for the nearest escape. They landed on the door to the guest bathroom. Wasting no time, I made a beeline for it.
Once I slipped inside the restroom, I leaned against the wall, gasping out a sob as the pain rolled through me. My stomach spasmed. Organs were shutting down. The whole production was coming to a close. I drew in a shaky breath and pushed away from the door.
I whispered a prayer under my breath, a series of strange, broken words strung together that begged for any other fate save this one. But if deliverance was coming, it wouldn’t be tonight.
I leaned over the counter and took several deep breaths. I couldn’t seem to get enough air through my lungs.
I lifted my head and stared at my reflection. My haunted blue eyes glittered amongst pale skin, my lips a bright red slash against the creamy flesh. And surrounding it all was my dark, dark hair. I had my own shadowy halo, just like the devil.