Chapter Three
She liked to dance... Gabriel stared down at the newly written words within the blank space of her face on the crinkled paper. He folded up the sketch and replaced it in his jacket pocket.
“You are certain this was all that was in your father's safe?” Gabriel asked, skimming through the strewn mess of miscellaneous papers, ledgers, legal documents, and banknotes—but strangely no money—on the table, which was in the manor's extensive library, for perhaps the half-dozenth time. It appeared Duke Hort had had quite the interest in books. Gabriel might have gotten along with the man quite well...had he not been dead.
He glanced at Renette, sitting frail and hunched over in a plush chair set several feet from where Gabriel sat, as though he were plagued by some contagious disease. I did consume a demon right in front of her, he told himself. She was frightened of him and he did not like that, but he could not resent her for it.
His eyes wavered on the young woman a moment.
With her tear-streaked face drained of color, and her reddened eyes fixed on some distant point in front of her, she looked almost like a plaintive ghost in a trance.
Or just a mourning daughter, Gabriel told himself, eyeing her blood-stained hands and ballgown. She did not even seem to notice the blood.
“Everything,” she whispered, finally, in a voice which was barely audible. Gabriel frowned as he looked at her—this person who had seemed so strong for one so young when they had first spoken, but who now looked so very small. The frown was directed toward himself, however.
I expected to care more, he realized, turning back to the contents from the safe.
In truth, he was troubled by the duke's death. Troubled that the demons had, again, outdone him. If he could not save even one nobleman, how was he ever going to succeed in killing hundreds of immortal monsters? Tonight he had only succeeded in adding another voice to the rumble in his head, and he still did not even know where to start to look for a way to kill them.
Perhaps, there is no way to kill them, he thought. Even through his doubts, he knew the thought was a lie. There was a way to kill the demons. He did not know how he knew it to be true, he only knew it was. The answer, whatever it was, felt like it was just out of reach, like an object laying right in front of him, over which his eyes had passed multiple times already. And he was getting no closer to seeing it.
Gabriel glanced over at Renette once more, realizing his mind had strayed from the dead duke and back to killing the demons almost just as soon as the duke had entered his mind. It felt...wrong...that he should care so little about a man's death.
She is fatherless now, he told himself. He felt nothing.
Gabriel forced the shame away, delving deeper into the stack of papers, pulling from it a large envelope. It was addressed to no one. How had he missed that in all his searches?
Is this what he wanted me to find?
Gabriel ripped open the envelope. Perhaps, he would uncover something useful inside. Something that could help him find a way to kill the demons, hopefully. After all, there had to be a reason the demons were after the nobles. Maybe they knew something everyone else did not.
Gabriel reached inside, pulling out a passport and a folded piece of paper. He tossed the passport aside onto the table, turning his attention to the folded paper. It felt heavier than it should have been and when he unfolded it a smaller, wax-sealed envelope fell from within. He picked up the wax-sealed envelope in one hand, then skimmed over the cramped writing on the paper in the other.
To my dear little Ren,
If this letter should still be intact, then it will have meant I have been killed. You must be confused as to why I have been killed, or why I had expected it. Suffice it to say, things are in motion and other noblemen will continue to be assassinated by...things. So far Petars and Placent have been killed, and I believe these “things” are targeting specific members of the aristocracy. I cannot explain why I think this, because I do not want you involved in the things we have gotten ourselves involved in.
I am sorry, Renette, for leaving you behind.
Take a few of the guards and depart from our manor as soon as you are able. My good friend, Charles Tharker, will be happy to take you in. If something should have befallen my friend—Father Truth forbid—, go to another acquaintance of mine in the Northern Region, who goes by the name Grey. Grey is not civil in the way you are used to, but will keep you safe.
Furthermore, you have no need to worry for your mother. I have seen to it that she will be well taken care of upon my death.
The address to Grey's is written below—if that should be the route you take. And, of course, you know the way to Charles's. I have provided the necessary passport required for passage into the Northern Region. There is, also, another envelope for your eyes only, my daughter. Whatever happens, never let it out of your sight.
Being dead, I have no other choice but to trust that it is you, my daughter, who holds this letter now. If it should be another, know that it is crucial in the utmost that you see my daughter to safety. I ask that you respect a dead man's wishes and ensure my daughter receives the sealed envelope. More is at stake here than you could possibly understand....
With all my love to you and hope in Father Truth,
Your Father
Gabriel leaned back in his chair, more than a little disappointed at the vagueness of the letter. At least, now, Gabriel knew the attacks on the nobility were not so random after all. Even so, he was still in the dark about the why of the matter. Were the demons killing these particular nobles, because they were looking for something? Did whatever was inside of the sealed envelope pertain to that?
If the demons are looking for something, Gabriel thought, then why are they making such a show of killing the nobility? Why aren't they killing in secret?
Gabriel consciously forced the questions away. He was not an investigator. Whatever the demons were planning, it was none of his concern. He did not want it to be. His goal was not to save, it was to kill. And the questions distracted from that. Besides, if he could hunt the demons down, find a way to kill them, the nobility would have nothing more to worry about anyway.
Gabriel looked to the sealed envelope, having fallen from the folded letter. The wax seal did not bear the insignia of House Bawdlin. This insignia—two, overlapping circles, forming a sideways eye where they overlapped—itched at Gabriel's memory.
For a moment, Gabriel was in that terrible, bright corridor, white-clad figures in face masks bustling about him. He squeezed his eyes shut and it flickered away.
Taking a deep breath, he turned his attention back to the sealed envelope. He pressed his thumbs against the seal, preparing to break it. Perhaps he would find answers inside. But he wavered. As he stared at the seal of the envelope, the voices of the others had become eerily silent. He found it strangely uncomfortable.
After a few moments, he breathed out a breath he had not realized had been pent up.
No, he thought lifting his thumbs from the seal. I don't want those answers. Whatever was inside was for Renette's eyes, anyway. He had gone numb to death over the years, but he had not lost his decency. Still...
Gabriel slipped the envelope into a pocket on the inside of his tailcoat. I won't open it, but—whatever it is—it's safer with me.
He rose from his seat then, swiping the passport and letter up from the table. He paused, his eyes drifting toward Renette, still sitting with her eyes fixed on that distant point. Upon her lap, her bloodied hands trembled. Hort wanted his daughter seen to safety.
Come and get us, Demon-Eater, the voices started up again. Challenging him.
She's not my problem, he thought, then started away.
I'm giving up on you, a single voice whispered. Gabriel stopped. I'm giving up on you, because you forgot.
Forgot?
Gabriel turned back to Renette. Her wide eyes drifted his way, finally moving from whatever they had been fixed upon, and remained on his. Reddene
d and swollen from her previous crying, her eyes were surprisingly firm, fixed on Gabriel now. Her eyes were...
“Her...eyes...” Gabriel whispered to himself, as Renette's gaze slid down to the floor after a moment. He pulled out his sheet of paper from within his tailcoat and set it down on a nearby table. He got out a pencil and began to sketch out two sideways ovals, over the words he had written there.
When he was finished, he set the pencil aside. The faceless woman stared up at him. His sketching was not beautiful, for he was no artist, but it was accurate. True. And, now, the faceless woman had eyes. Her eyes were unwavering and kind all at once. Her eyes were knowing and penetrating and lovely. And Gabriel remembered them.
He turned back to the young woman, Renette.
“She has her eyes,” he whispered. Then smiled faintly.
“The older man,” Gabriel began slowly, “the one who... That was Charles Tharker?”
The young woman looked up from the floor. She nodded. That eliminated him then.
“Your father wanted you safe,” Gabriel continued, walking toward Renette. She flinched as he outstretched a hand to give the passport and the duke's letter to her. She eyed the letter, eventually taking it, and the passport, with reluctant slowness. “He mentioned in the letter that he arranged for your mother to be taken care of. Is she...not well enough to travel with you?”
Renette shook her head.
“Well, she will be safe here, then,” Gabriel said. “Guardsman,” he called, causing another flinch from Renette.
The guard—the one who had charged the Skin Crawler—entered into the library a second later; he had been standing just outside the door. Clearly unsure as to what protocol called for when standing before someone like Gabriel, the guardsman gave an awkward salute.
“Sir?” the guard said in a firm voice. Gabriel thought he must have be hiding how shaken up he was rather well.
“You're all right?” Gabriel asked.
“Yes, sir. Only a nasty bruise.” The guardsman rubbed the side of his face, his left cheek a swollen circle of purple and black. “Brute had a nasty backhand,” he chuckled hollowly. His eyes took on a distant look. “It was supposed to work. Lord Hort breaks himself free long enough for me to fell the sorry sap trying to hold him. We practiced it dozens of times. It was supposed to work...”
Gabriel laid a hand on the man's shoulder. He felt the guardsman go tense at his touch.
“You did your best,” Gabriel said. “Better than most against one of those things.”
“And what exactly was that bloody thing? Er...my lord.”
“Just another kind of monster,” Gabriel said. “Listen, I think it's better we leave some monsters forgotten about.” Especially if it's attention they want.
The guardsman shook his head, blowing out a heavy breath. “Lord Hort was a good man,” the guard said. “He didn't deserve to be... Not like that.”
The filthiest criminal does not deserve to be killed by one of those things, Gabriel thought, removing his hand from the man's shoulder.
“I was supposed to be there,” the guardsman continued. “I failed—”
“Guardsman,” Gabriel interrupted, “you can't afford to think about what happened, and you can't afford to blame yourself. The duke wrote that he wanted his daughter seen safely to an acquaintance of his in the Northern Region. Somewhere in Summerton, the address said in the letter. Grey will be his name. Can you do that? Can you escort the Lady Renette to safety.”
The guardsman wavered. “I couldn't even touch Lord Charles—or, the monster...whatever he...it...was. If something like that comes for—”
“Listen to me,” Gabriel said in a stern voice. He glanced over toward Renette—who did not even seem to notice them—and continued in a lower voice. “Those monsters won't be after Lady Renette. I have been following their movements. They go after the hosts of random balls and...well, you saw it. They will be after some other lord throwing another ball—if there are any left who are brave enough to do so—, by now. You have a duty to this family, guardsman. And the daughter is still alive and well. I ask again: Can you get her to Grey's?”
The guard stared hard into Gabriel's own eyes. For the first time, Gabriel paid enough attention to the man to realize the guardsman was probably several years older than himself. And he was speaking to him as though he were a boy.
“It was never a question of duty, lord,” the guardsman said. He nodded after a few seconds. “I can do it. I'll gather up a small team of men and we'll see her to Grey's. I'll see her to everywhere she goes.”
Gabriel smiled wanly. “Good,” he said, then turned his attention back to Lady Renette. Frail Lady Renette. “I know it is soon for you,” he said to her, “but you really must make haste. Your guardsman here will—”
“No.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper and Renette seemed surprised herself that she had said it. “No,” she said again, in a stronger voice. “I will not go.”
“Renette,” Gabriel said, “it's not me, you know. It was your father's wish for you to—”
“No,” she snapped, shooting him a glare. She shrank back, face going pale, when she realized at whom she had snapped. Gabriel wished she was not so frightened of him. Looking into Renette's wide eyes—her eyes—, it was almost as if...she...were fearful of him. “I will go nowhere. Not until my father is buried.”
Gabriel sighed, but he did not particularly fancy arguing with a mourning girl.
“Fine,” Gabriel said. “But we bury him tonight. And then we're off.”
Renette opened her mouth, looking as though she were about to argue. Then she closed it and merely nodded.
“Sorry, sir,” the guardsman began. “You said we're off?”
Gabriel nodded slowly. “I might as well ride along with you. At least, for a short while. Just in case.” Gabriel looked down at his hands when he noticed himself searching for the wedding band that was no longer there, then pulled them apart. Just in case.
Gabriel started toward the library exit.
“I hate you.”
He paused. Strangely, Renette's words pricked him inside. Somewhere too near to the heart.
“Or, at least, I want to,” she said in a softer voice. “I'm sorry.”
Gabriel kept his eyes planted on the library door.
“Let's get digging,” he said, then pushed the door open and walked away.