by Sophia North
Gabe’s rich laughter rumbled pleasantly in her ear. "I'm not surprised, love. How does Sunday roast from Claridge's sound? I shall return with it once I've made arrangements to have my things brought here."
Hannah had not expected such a boon. Gabriel in her bed every night, there had to be a catch. "I'm not certain I'm ready for such a commitment so soon," she said innocently. "I think I have a phobia."
Nipping her exposed collarbone, Gabe extracted himself from their love nest. "Good thing Simone has a PhD and can help you get over it. Because the fact of the matter is, I’m moving in. You need protection and it makes sense to kill two birds with one stone. I cannot be in three places at once, so Claridge's has to go."
Propping herself up and wrapping the sheet around her nakedness, a smile toyed on her full lips. "Well, if you insist. I'll prepare one of the guest rooms for you."
"Cara mia, we can make love in every room you like. No need to go out of your way."
"Hurry back...I'll be waiting."
THE DING OF THE LIFT opening was a sweet sound. Having placed an order for her dinner, all that was left was the small matter of having his Guard return to Lowerton once his belongings were transferred to Hannah's. He would not be requiring their constant presence any longer.
At the door to his suite, two of his Praetors, Hadrian and Brutus approached.
"Consul, you have returned. How can we serve you?" Hadrian asked deferentially.
"By going," Gabe replied flippantly but quickly corrected himself. Why the fuck was he acting like such a fool? Hannah. She had wormed her way in even deeper. He didn't know why he'd told her about his mother. He never spoke about her to anyone. She was a root to much of his dysfunction...according to some Dr. Phil person. Fucking Malachai and his obsession with modernity. He was the only other one he'd mentioned his mother to, and that had been in a moment of weakness...on Malachai's part. He was about to blow himself up, so tormented was he by his Praetor nature.
Jesus, this talking about oneself brought out a lot of shit.
"Consul?" his guard asked, uncertain what Gabe had meant by his answer.
Unlocking the door, Gabe entered the suite, his two guards following him in. The sight he beheld started his heart beating. The entire suite had been ransacked. How the fuck had that happened?
"Consul," the guard stammered, "...I...we've been outside your door the entire time. I swear it."
Gabe flicked his hand at him dismissively, annoyed one of his vamps would attempt to offer excuses. He couldn't bear to hear the Praetor speak. His sanctuary had been invaded. Heads would roll for it. "Leave, both of you. Report to Lowerton, I shall deal with you later."
Tuning to stare at the large landscape on the far wall, Gabe's heart sank. The gilded frame was tilted slightly to the left. It had been disturbed. Flashing over, he effortlessly removed the large piece from the wall. Behind it was the safe he’d paid prime money for - Claridge's prided itself on offering its top clients the latest in modern security needs, which included biometric safes in every suite. And Gabe had added his own layer of security just to make sure.
As he feared, the door of the safe was slightly ajar...its contents missing. The box, his family's cylinder...his Marker. The blood pounded in his ears. Everything he deemed most precious to him was gone, as well as the best lead they had on breaking the Dragon's Curse. Except...the key!
Moving swiftly into the bedroom, Gabe rifled through the drawer beside the bed. Lifting the good book tucked at the back, he quickly opened it. Carved in the thin paper was a compartment, which contained the key from the box. Whoever the thieving bastards were, they hadn't thought a vampyre would go near a Bible, let alone use it to hide something.
Gabe didn't know what possessed him to put the damn thing there, but he was glad all the same - it had saved the key from being taken. Quickly putting two and two together, Gabe realised his mistake. He'd underestimated the Warlocks' power.
Warlocks...Hannah. Fuck, he'd left her alone in the house. She was in danger!
He sped from the suite, desperate to get to her before they did.
Chapter Thirty
HANNAH OPENED THE DOOR expecting to find a disgruntled catering crew on the other side. She'd meant to leave the racks from the party in the side alley of the house for pick-up earlier. Suffice it to say, her bedroom antics with Gabe resulted in her not fulfilling that side of the contract.
However, as it turned out, it was Maltby who greeted her instead.
Surprised to find the older man there, Hannah quickly ushered him in. "Maltby, is everything alright at home? Beka's not gone and done something stupid again?"
The older gentleman smiled. "No, nothing of the sort, Lady Hannah. I've come to see you."
Her? Oh dear, things must be dire. Obviously he wasn't trying to alarm her. This things left unsaid habit was all rather trying. It felt utterly unnatural to be second guessing him. They'd always been so honest with each other before she moved out.
"Then I shall put on the kettle. Please come in."
Quickly eyeing the living room for any signs of her night of passion with Gabe, Hannah sighed with relief to see no evidence had been left. Entering the kitchen, she noticed the racks for collection were gone. It must have been Gabe's doing. How domestic of him, her lips twitched with a smile over his thoughtfulness. And to think, soon he would be here...at her beck and call 24/7. The idea of it tickled her to no ends.
Placing the kettle on the hob, she went through the cupboards looking for the necessary tea-making equipment. After a few minutes of futile searching, Maltby came to her rescue by producing an elegant silver tea set from god knows where.
Tucking a stray lock behind her ear, Hannah sheepishly remarked, "Obviously I am still working out where things are...who knew making tea would be such a challenge."
Maltby moved around the large kitchen like he'd lived in the house for years, collecting various implements from cupboards and drawers.
The steam whistle sounded, calling time on the tea relay. Maltby won it by a mile. If it had been left to Hannah to find everything the water would have gone cold. Accepting defeat, she let him complete the ritual and carry the tray over to a table overlooking the garden.
Twilight shone its last light over the capital. The warm summer evening beckoned. From the open French doors, a gentle breeze wafted in, bringing lovely fresh scents from the garden. Yes, the house may have a few peculiarities but the garden made up for it.
Hannah attempted to be a better hostess by pulling out a chair for Maltby to sit in. He accepted with a slight nod and relinquished the responsibility of pouring the tea to her.
Settled, he wasted no time in coming to the point. "I'm worried about you, Hannah," he lead with. "You've not seemed right this past fortnight."
Sipping her tea, she took her time answering. Mainly because she wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't like she could admit she was in the throes of a torrid affair with a Praetor vampyre over four hundred years old.
"Ah, so you and he have...consummated your relationship," Maltby remarked, having read Hannah's thoughts.
Her cup clambered in the saucer. "What do you mean?" she half-screeched in hysterics.
"Gabriel Rosetti, Legatus legionis of the Praetorian Guard, recently promoted to Consul Militaris...at least, according to my source. And he is rather an infallible one, so I am confident I am correct."
Hannah's mind reeled at Maltby's depth of knowledge about the existence of vampyres. How could he know all this? He'd been the Lyonsford butler since before she'd been born.
Flashes of visions from his past formed in her head. Maltby holding Hannah as a baby...then another child from what looked to be sometime in the 19th century...and so it went throughout history. Yet in each vision, Maltby remained unchanged.
"What are you?" she gasped, the implications impossible to ignore. Maltby wasn't human.
"A Phoenix."
"As in the mythical bird that rises from the ashes?"
"One in the same, my dear."
Collapsing back in her chair, Hannah muttered, "This cannot be happening..."
"If wishing only made it so, I'd join you. It was never my intention to reveal the truth to you like this...I had hoped, well never mind. What is done is done. Sometimes in life one must go off script."
Off script? He had to be having a laugh. He'd just announced he was a supernatural being. "Why have you finally...revealed your true self?" Hannah rasped, barely able to form a coherent sentence.
"To protect you. You are in grave danger, Hannah...from Gabriel."
"What nonsense! He...cares for me."
"He feels far more than that. La, if only my old friend had not been quite so tight with the truth, maybe it wouldn't have happened."
Hannah jumped from her chair, unable to remain sitting. "I don't understand what you are saying...it's all too much to take in. Gabriel would never hurt me."
Maltby sighed and placed his cup and saucer on the table. It hadn't wavered for a minute in his hand. "He will not be able to stop himself. His recent actions have set a course of events into motion that have played out many, many times over the past two millennia. Karma, really can be a bitch, to coin the vernacular on the subject."
No, it couldn't be true.
"Why? Why would he hurt me, of all people?"
"Because you are a Sibyl...more powerful than any other Seer in existence."
A Sibyl? As in the mythical women with the gift of prophecy whom she'd researched with fascination for years? That kind of Sibyl?
She had to sit back down or else crumple to the floor. Her wobbly legs were close to giving way. After a prolonged silence Hannah found her voice again. "What you say may well be true, but how does all this relate to Karma?"
"You and he have found and lost one another over many lifetimes. Tell me Hannah, do you still dream about a strange palace from long ago?"
She gulped. The dream had never left her, and he was the only other soul who knew about it, after she confided in him shortly before she'd left for Godolphin's.
"Has it been more vivid lately? Almost life-like?"
She nodded, unable to speak. What did it all mean?
"Your powers have been growing stronger as each year passes, but you do not claim them fully until the end of your first Saturn return."
She had never heard anything so ridiculous. A Saturn return indeed.
"I can see you don't believe me, but that is neither here nor there...the planets care not if you believe. They cycle along regardless. The problem we have is that your course has been upset by having Gabriel's blood in your system."
"What are you talking about? I have no such thing."
"Ah, but you do. The night you were attacked in the archives...he saved your life by giving you his blood to heal. Foolish boy. His act has sped things up."
"No, he would have told me..." she whispered in torment, but knowing even as she said it, it was a lie. They had all lied to her. Gabriel, Vlad and Penny.
"I don't believe he fully comprehended the ramifications of what he did...and even if he did, he wouldn't tell you. Gabriel cannot be trusted. He won't be able..." Maltby's explanation was cut short by Hannah's reaction.
Tears streaming down her face, she turned away from him. "I want you to go. Now. I will hear no more. Gabriel will prove you wrong. He would never harm me, karma be damned."
Maltby knew there was no arguing with his young charge. She'd endured too much to continue to listen. Tiberius was his only hope now. And he prayed he could make Gabe see sense when he talked to him. Which, according to his intuition, would be happening right about now.
Maltby had been aware of Gabriel's presence for most of his conversation with Hannah. He'd been in the garden listening. Hannah had been too distraught to detect him. But Maltby did not suffer from such trifling things like emotion. Not when it came to protecting Hannah. She was far too precious.
But Gabe had not heard her pretty defence of him. He'd left upon hearing what his act had done. And no doubt had questions of his own Phoenix protector.
Chapter Thirty-One
SMOKE FILLED THE CAVERNOUS hookah bar just off Smithfield Street, close to the Thames. Its existence was known to relatively few patrons but had been around since the capital's growth into a major naval power and global trader.
The merchants from Mecca required their pleasures the same as any other culture who had flocked to cash in on London's new found riches and power.
Low lit lanterns hung over the various tables where patrons reclined on benches covered with brightly textured pillows, enjoying their pipes in peace.
Tiberius was of a similar mind to the rest of the smokers. Drawing deeply on the pipe's mouthpiece, he released smoke rings for fun. Yet, he knew his evening of enjoyment was about to take a turn. His charge had arrived.
Gabriel stood next to his table, so enraged his body nearly shook. "Is it true?" he demanded harshly.
"Good evening, Chicco. Please, have a seat. You are drawing unnecessary attention...or should I say more than usual."
The bar was filled with older men all possessing wise eyes. Not an ideal place for vampyres to stand out in. Their eyes had seen much in their time and were well trained to spot the unusual.
Moving to join Tiberius on the bench littered with brightly patterned cushions, he opted to be as close as possible so as to not be overheard.
In a low voice, Gabe hissed, "Why have you failed to explain the consequences of my actions?"
Tiberius puffed away, with a sly side glance at Gabe's person. Expelling another impressive stream of smoke, he replied, "Consequence explanation is not a subject you and I have a very good track record with, if I recall. And I've come to realise the best way to work with you, is to let you do exactly what you want, consequences be damned. Then, once the inevitable outcomes occur, we work through them. Am I wrong in my assessment, Chicco?"
God, he hated it when Tiberius called him Chicco, the childhood pet name he'd given him many moons ago. It usually signalled his old mentor had grown tired of what he deemed to be childish antics on Gabe's behalf. Should he want any answers from his old mentor, he needed to become the diligent student once again. Unfortunately for Tiberius, Gabe wasn't interested in regressing.
The time for childish play was over. He needed answers, not lectures.
"We do not have a century to spare for you to outline all my faults yet again. So perhaps you would be kind enough to fast-forward the process and just spell it out for me."
"See, no attention to detail whatsoever," Tiberius replied, making thick smoke rings with his mouth. "I do believe you and I have discussed the matter many times...you know the bloodline curse was not just a bedtime story."
This brought a strange reaction from Gabe. He swore like a sailor and ended the litany with, "You mean there was some truth to it, beyond focusing my need to exact blood vengeance on any Warlock I happened across?"
"Details, Gabriel. They were always your Achilles heel. Now focus and tell me what you remember."
The image of him as a ten year old, stuck inside his father's fine palazzo, staring out the window at the bright blue Siena sky formed in his mind's eye. In the tower room Tiberius had used for his schooling, his old teacher sat at his cluttered desk delivering yet another boring lecture about the past.
"The Praetorian Guard's purpose was what?"
"To protect the Emperor, at all costs," his child self rhymed off.
Tiberius nodded. "And our lesson about the heir of the Legatus?"
"Never take what is not yours. Otherwise, great darkness will follow."
"And what happened to the heir when he disobeyed a direct order?"
"His heart turned black and he murdered his love because of the sorcerer's curse. Is that true, Tiberius? Sorcery exists?"
"Yes, Chicco. And never forget it. There are many things about this world that will shock and amaze you...in time. But for now, remember the story. Someday you may need t
o understand its significance."
"Very well, may I go now?"
Tousling his hair, Tiberius nodded and Gabe ran outside.
Back in the hookah bar, Gabe returned from the memory. "I remember," he whispered. "but how can it be my burden to bear when I was never my father's heir? That title belonged to Raphael, until his death in 1666."
"The Karma has always been yours. It was your destiny to become the Legatus."
Gabe sat back to absorb what he'd been told. The Warlock story had been something of a lark that he used to justify his determination to search out and destroy every Warlock coven he discovered. He'd never really believed it was true. Looked like the joke was on him.
"And Hannah?"
"She is the love you stole, albeit in another life. Somehow you've found one another again...and so the cycle of destruction begins."
Gabe shook his head in denial. "I'd never...never hurt her."
Tiberius looked at him sympathetically. "Not by choice, no. But the moment you gave her your blood, it was game over. Have you noticed a change in your emotions lately? A growing sense of possessiveness...jealously?"
He'd not handled Hannah's comment about Ethan Lang very well, so great was his anger at hearing her admiration of the Inspector.
Tiberius could see the change had begun.
"What does it mean?"
"You will grow more and more hostile towards Hannah, until one day you'll break down and drive a sword through her heart."
"Tell me, old mentor, what must I do to prevent it?"
"Go as far as you can from her. To the ends of the earth if you must. And pray she will not come to you. The call of your souls is very strong. This is not the first time you and I have discussed these options."
Leaning his back against the hard bench, he sighed. "And obviously, it didn't work. Otherwise we wouldn't be here. Fuck, what a night. I lose Hannah and my legacy all in one go."
Tiberius looked at him sharply, his wise eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Your legacy stolen, my liege, what do you mean?"
