Forbidden (The Gabriel Lennox Series Book 1) (6 page)

DURING THE
NIGHT
, Genevieve woke up afraid. She had had a dream . . . no, it was real. She had been lying in her bed alone. Earlier in the day, she and Michel had had another fight, and he had left the mansion. In the darkness, some
thing
, some sort of winged man came down from the devil knows where and made love to her while she gazed, helpless, into his emerald eyes. As she climaxed, her body trembled with each violent wave of sheer bliss. And then, he floated away with an elusive part of her . . . her soul?

She told herself she must never say anything to anyone about it. Who would believe her anyway? They would certainly call her mad, especially her levelheaded sister who didn’t believe in anything supernatural. Genevieve stretched a trembling hand for the brush on her bureau and began to run it through the length of her hair. She could feel his presence, her demon lover in the silken strands, on her skin, in her mouth, blooming inside of her like an insidious flower—thorny and poisonous. Strange. Sinister.

Emerald eyes flashed in her mind.

At once, she bolted out of bed and slipped into her robe to cover her nakedness. Never before had she felt so vulnerable. She moved to her desk, and with trembling hands wrote a letter and sealed it. She would have it sent tomorrow. If tomorrow was promised to her.

She rushed out of her room and down the stairs, not once risking a glance behind her. Silver piano music filled with dark minor chords, an ominous melody rose louder and louder as she descended the stairs. Michel’s music. It reminded her of her
dream
.

Safer to call it just a dream.

When she approached her husband, she saw that he wasn’t playing. He wasn’t even near the piano, but rather lying on his stomach several feet away from it, his arms spread wide. Beside him lay an empty bottle of wine turned on its side. She screamed.

Reluctantly, she moved toward him, her hands stifling a second scream. “Michel,
Michel
,” she called, shaking him. “Wake up!” She begged him to answer her. She couldn’t return to her bedroom alone, but she found no way to rouse him. He was out cold.

Genevieve broke into tears. Lowering herself to her knees, she crawled next to her husband, stretching herself out beside him. She dared not close her eyes but remained that way until the sky glowed and crowned her with honey-colored light.

“AND YOU
DON’T HAVE
a problem with this at all?” Gabriel asked Colin.

The boy stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes and then traced his fingers along the books lining the shelves. The tips came away coated with a thin film of dust. He glanced at his fingers, mumbling that the library was too dirty and that he needed furniture polish as soon as possible. He gave a slight nod of his head, the imitation of an answer, and continued mumbling to himself while Gabriel watched him examine the dusty neglect of the room.

From the time Colin had come home with him and Nathaniel, the boy had slept for the rest of that night and all of the following morning. This late afternoon, he had dressed in brown knee britches tucked into boots and a plaid shirt with a solid blue coat over it, which brought out hints of that vivid color in his hazel eyes. His large eyes, heavy lids, and long lashes gave him the perpetually languid look of a cat daydreaming of goldfish and canaries.

Gabriel was pleased to see that clean and combed, Colin’s short wavy hair looked blonder than the brown color he originally thought it had, and curled in loose locks around the boy’s ears. He had availed himself of the toiletries and clothing without hesitation, needing no instruction in proper cleanliness.

But Gabriel wondered how the boy would feel now that Nathaniel had told him that he must keep secret that his two masters drank blood and couldn’t die.

“You’re not listening to me,” Gabriel accused.

Colin nodded again, obviously just pretending to listen.

“Confirm that you are, by saying something.”

“I was hopin’ you would tell me something a little more believable, Master Gabriel. Was waiting for you to tell me that you’re the bloody Chapel murderer himself come to cut me up! I may look flat, but I don’t fall for everything—especially not some maiden-ravished rubbish out of a bloody penny dreadful.”

“Did Nathaniel mention maidens being ravished?”

Colin sniffed and rubbed his nose. “No, I added that little spicy tidbit.”

“Forgive Nathaniel for his timing, but what he told you is true. Well, as true as it can be. But I take it that you don’t believe in the supernatural, do you?”

“I believe in the fairy folk. You know, fairies, leprechauns, gnomes, and the like, but vampires? No, I don’t.”

Gabriel cocked an eyebrow. “So, if I told you that I was a fairy you would believe me?”

Colin stared at him for a full minute. He shrugged. “Probably. It’d make more sense, Master Gabriel. Nathaniel says that you’re not exactly vampires, but you drink . . . blood. You rather go out after the sun sets, but that’s not unusual. Moonlight revived old Varney the vampire. Does moonlight do the same for you?”

The corners of Gabriel’s mouth twitched into a smile. The mantelpiece clock ticked louder in the comical silence.

“Yeah. I suppose that’s a rather stupid story,” Colin remarked with a shrug. “But what would you expect for a penny. Hell, even I, a mere mortal, live for the night, too.” He smirked. “But is that all? You’re not merely an arrogant toff who preys on high society, like Lord Ruthven, eh? You know, seducing people so that you can drink their blood. You probably don’t have the power to turn into anything weird like wolves or bats. What kind of vampire is that?”

“Hmm. For a street urchin, you certainly know a great deal of things. You’ve suddenly become strangely articulate. Now why would that be?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” Colin pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and began scrubbing the bookcase’s shelves. He spit on the cloth and scrubbed harder.

“I could make you tell me.”

The boy spun around, eyes wide. “You mean like hypnosis?”

“Something like that.” Gabriel leaned forward, smiling. “Colin, look into my eyes.”

The handkerchief became a tight ball in his fist before falling to the floor. The boy brought his hands up to his face and covered his eyes. “No way. You’re . . . not serious, are you, Master Gabriel?”

“Trust me. Please sit down.”

Colin slowly sank down into a chair, lowered his hands, and rested them on his knees. He stared back at Gabriel, his eyes empty and wide like a doll’s.

Gabriel regretted having to see his eyes. “Tell me, where did you get an education?”

Colin opened his mouth to answer, but just as Gabriel thought he was going to speak, his eyes narrowed and his hands clenched into fists.

Interesting. The boy was fighting him. Actually fighting him with what seemed to be his will alone. Gabriel just stared at the boy, wanting to know more about his mysterious past, but afraid of what could happen if he forced the information out of him. He thought about satisfying his curiosity another way, by drinking some of Colin’s blood, which would form a strong, but temporary bond.

He’d only experimented with a blood bond once before—a century ago, and with a mortal girl. He remembered being in her mind, hearing her silent thoughts, flipping and perusing her inner secrets, like the words on the pages of an open book.

A wonderful experience.

Frightening.

He never did it again for three reasons. One, the exchange of blood seemed more intimate than sex with a lover. Two, he always feared that the person with whom he formed the blood bond could somehow have access to
his
thoughts,
his
memories, share his pain and pleasures, long after the blood had been exchanged. But that only worked if the sharer was another Chosen. Blood bonds between Chosen were like steel marriage contracts that not only had to be mutual between both parties involved, but also had to last as long as the two forming it lived. It could only be broken if the one who no longer wanted it spilled all of his blood upon the ground. Gabriel could only imagine blood spilling as a slow, agonizing descent into oblivion. Due to the dire circumstances surrounding blood bonds, few ever formed them. Chosen weren’t the sociable, compromising type.

In this case, however, Colin was still human so maybe . . .

Oh, and he mustn’t forget the third reason. The girl, once the blood bond had been severed, she had forgotten who he was. He didn’t linger to see if she ever regained her memory of him. And with the centuries, her face, her scent, her name, became as faint, pale, and bitter as ashes from a sacrificial pyre.

His curiosity warred with the memories and won.

Gabriel waved his hand in front of Colin’s glassy stare. The boy made no response when he spoke to him in a quiet, soothing tone, telling him to relax. At once, Colin’s stiff hands loosened, and Gabriel took an upturned arm. He rolled back the long sleeves of the boy’s coat. Then, he bit into his arm at the wrist and drank a little of the blood that flowed from it. He made a small incision into his own wrist, pressing the shallow wound to the boy’s mouth. He told him to taste and swallow, and when he did, Gabriel closed his eyes and waited.

The off-black darkness replaced with the image of Colin dressed in the uniform of a wealthy college student. More images faded in and out.

Oxford. Colin with a group of friends, sitting around on the floor talking about the future. Laughing. Feeling brave, daring. Experimenting with opium. His friends injected it into their arms . . . he drinks it . . . laudanum it’s stronger . . . he feels unstoppable, immortal. Several hours later, the sensations disappear. He feels like an emptied bottle. Nights are sleepless, filled with pain, nausea, and chills. Every breath he takes feels like his last. Another taste, another smoke, just one more sip will allow him to relax.

To live.

Trapped by opium. His need emptying his pockets. Becoming desperate. Performing sexual favors for women and men to get the funds to feed his habit. Snuffing out the lives of younger boys whom he took under his wing. Suffocating them while they slept. Freeing them from the empty, hopeless world of prostitution. Freeing them from the monsters in the guise of elegant men and women. He’s their savior. Their angel of death. His reasoning is simple: “I send them to heaven. They mustn’t suffer.”

Gabriel witnessed the funeral of Colin’s mother.
The boy weeping. His father telling him to go to hell. “That’s right, you wastrel! You wasted our hard-earned money! And for what? Just to leave school without earning a degree? You killed your mother, you did! Broke her heart!” His red face screams in Colin’s. Colin backs away from his father’s angry face, and the big, strong hands clench into fists itching to strike him. Anything to drive him away. He looks to his siblings who avoid his pleading gaze. If he could look into their eyes, “Outsider. Black Sheep,” they would accuse.

He is not wanted here.

Colin does the next best thing. What he’s done for most of his life.

He runs.

From a distance, Colin watches his older brothers and sisters gather around their father, who kneels before the open coffin of the deceased. His mother. Colin remembers that he is her favorite. No,
was
her favorite, for she’s dead now, and only the desires of the living matter.

The white rose slips from Colin’s hand. He stalks away and doesn’t look back.

Gabriel opened his eyes and coughed up Colin’s blood, retching in dry heaves.

He knew the mind was the home, the sanctuary that no outsider should have access to.

Uninvited. The legends said that vampires must be invited into a home, but the legends were confused. It wasn’t the physical homes that vampires had to be invited into.

Gabriel whispered into Colin’s ear that he should open his eyes.

“Master Gabriel, you look very sick.”

“I am not.”

“You’re not offended, are you? It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that I don’t trust that you won’t be ashamed of my past and all. I’ll tell you about my past sometime, someday, I will. I give you my word.”

Gabriel forced a weak smile. “Never mind that.”

“Do you have, you know, fangs?” Colin laughed, opened his mouth wide, and made a hissing sound.

Gabriel smiled widely to show off his white, perfect teeth. “When I want to.”

“But you don’t have them now. That’s because you don’t want to eat me, right?”

“. . . Correct.”

“May I see them?”

Gabriel gave a pained sigh. He opened his mouth and drew out his fangs as easily as blinking. He grazed his tongue across the sharpness and smiled at the boy.

Colin flinched. “No. It’s a trick!”

Gabriel drew in his fangs.

“Ugh. So, they’re retractable, like a cat’s claws, eh? Not at all like the legends. Hmm. How long can you live for? Hundreds of years? Thousands?”

“I suppose only time will tell.” Gabriel suppressed a stab of anger, and his audible reply fared better than what he told himself: “I don’t know.” And not knowing if he was immortal kept him in bondage.

“How long
have
you lived?”

“I saw London burning in 1666.”

Colin gave a small nod of his head. He counted out on his fingers, his eyes turned up to the ceiling. “That’s not the answer I wanted to hear, Master Gabriel, but that’s at least two hundred years. Wow! That’s fucking amazing.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “And I ask again, you’re not at all bothered by this?”

The boy shook his head. “As long as you don’t want me to kill or maim anyone, I’m your man, Master Gabriel. You’re paying me; I can play along.” He stood up and patted his stomach. “I’m a bit hungry, though. Can I have something to eat?”

“Nathaniel and I will be glad to treat you to dinner.”

Colin’s face went mock serious. “But it’s still light outside. The sun won’t set for several hours, Master Gabriel. And you know, with your condition . . . a moment in the sun could be, uh, life-threatening . . .”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I’m quite capable of withstanding the light of the sun, Colin. You know that.”

“Oh. But of course. So then, what’s your goal, Mr. Vampire? Ravishing maidens?” he asked with a graceful wave of his hand. Deceiving the rich out of their wealth? Or something more? Why, if I were a vampire, I’d make all the beautiful women of the world members of my harem!” He hid an ear-to-ear grin uselessly with one hand and made a poorer attempt at masking his snickering in the disguise of a cough.

He sighed. “My goal? My goal is simply to be left alone. Be my own person. My own god.”

Colin stared at Gabriel for a full minute before he shut his eyes in silent mirth. He bent over, holding his stomach as the laughter seemed to rise from there and into his chest coming out with such force that it must’ve hurt because Colin began to shed tears. He fell onto the floor, hysterical with laughter. “Oh, ow. Ha, ha, ha. That’s funny, but you’re
serious
—ha, ha. I want to believe you, but—my stomach! It’s so empty! Ow!”

He nudged him in the side with his boot. ”All right. That’s enough. Get up and stop acting like a child.”

* * *

Gabriel recommended an elegant restaurant in London, but Colin wanted beer and an atmosphere where he could feel more “at home.” So he drove Gabriel and Nathaniel to a pub in the East End where he ate plate after plate of shepherd’s pie and polished off several pints of beer, his cheeks barely flushed with the alcohol coursing through his veins. His bright laughter filled the pub as he sang bawdy songs at the top of his lungs. No one seemed to mind, but Gabriel couldn’t help but cringe.

When they returned home, a young boy waited outside, tapping his foot impatiently. Just as the boy prepared to sit down on the steps, Gabriel slipped out of the carriage. The boy looked him up and down and grinned.

He removed his low-crowned felt hat, revealing a mass of brown curls, and bowed at the waist. “Are you Gabriel Lennox, sir?” he asked.

“Depends on who wants to know.”

The boy grinned. “You must be him! She said that you’d have wine-red hair. And if I hadn’t seen it with mine own eyes, I’d never believed anyone could have hair like that,” he said, voice cracking and nasally.

Poor brat. Gabriel remembered with loathing his voice changing from a boy’s into a man’s. He stared into the boy’s freckled face. “And who is
she
?”