Gabrielle and Fausto ran into the open void at the ready, prepared to fight. What they found left Gabrielle in awe.
High vaulted ceilings hung above what looked to be a long dining table surrounded by chairs. This was only a guess, however, as the entire room, including the table, was either filled with or covered by items—trinkets, antiques, and curiosities. Gabrielle looked around, blinking to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her somehow.
An electric buzz coursed through the air and Gabrielle could feel the great power these items possessed. A burning sensation caused Gabrielle to jump before she realized it was her dormant bracelet. She looked down at the bent, marred piece of jewelry with her mouth slightly open. It was as though the sleeping bracelet had finally come back to life. Everything in the room seemed to be feeding it.
Gabrielle looked at Fausto who had a mirrored look of awe plastered on his face. Their mission came to a halt as they slowly separated and walked through the mass of treasure. Noticing a large cabinet sitting off to the side, Gabrielle walked up to it and peered through the old glass at an assortment of odd items, though she couldn’t make out what most of them were.
She walked between things perched on the floor, or items sitting on small tables. She ran her fingers over each article she passed. A wave of déjà vu rushed over Gabrielle as her fingertips grazed an item and she stopped mid-step in front of a large stuffed mountain cat. No. It can’t be. The thought was silly for someone who was traveling through time, living the lives of people long dead. These things, all of them, she had seen before. Long, long ago, she walked through an almost identical labyrinth of these exact curiosities.
These things were her’s. Well, Alexandra’s really, but her’s none the less. How did all of this get here? Did Arawn collect all of this? She felt the power exuded from the items and knew these had to have something to do with Arawn’s plans in some way.
“Is this where Arawn draws his power from?” Gabrielle whispered as she traced the gashes and scrapes in her bracelet.
“Gabrielle!” Fausto shouted from the other side of the room. Gabrielle jerked her head up at the urgency in his voice and ran back toward the door they had come in. There, she found Fausto with his rifle pointed at a tapestry that hung from the wall. He was staring intently, his body frozen, and his eyes locked on the tapestry like a hunting dog who’d found a fox.
“What’s happening? What are you doing?” she demanded, as she raised her weapon at the tapestry in confusion.
“I saw it! I swear on my life I saw it!” Fausto blurted without taking his eyes off the wall.
“Saw what?” Gabrielle asked, confused and worried. Fausto was silent for a moment, just staring at the wall. Gabrielle could see in his face that he was trying to reason out what he’d seen.
“I saw a big . . . dog. Or at least I think it was a dog. It was much bigger than any dog I’ve ever seen, and the thing looked mangled. It looked . . . dead. Came around the edge of those shelves and it looked at me. Then I swear to all that is holy, it smiled at me. It smiled and then walked behind that curtain! Gabrielle, you have to believe me, I’m not crazy, I saw it.”
Gabrielle snapped her gaze from Fausto to the wall. If the hounds were here then Arawn was here.
“That bastard is here!” Gabrielle snarled ignoring the confused look that spread across Fausto’s face when she not only accepted his crazy statement but knew who and what he was talking about.
“It went behind the curtain?” she asked. Then without waiting for a response, she added, “Stay behind me. Let’s go.”
Gabrielle took several steps toward the wall with Fausto directly behind her. She slowly approached the tapestry and used the barrel of her rifle to draw the cloth aside.
Behind it was a large door. Gabrielle grabbed the fabric and ripped it from the wall, exposing the entirety of the hidden wood door.
“What . . . is . . . that?” Fausto asked, stepping next to Gabrielle.
Gabrielle’s heart lunged into her throat, and every follicle of hair on her body stood on end. She stared at the large door as an icy chill ran down her spine. On the door, written in black liquid that was still running down the front, was one word: GABRIELLE.
“I don't know . . .” she said, finally forcing enough air into her lungs to answer Fausto’s question. For the second time since she’d catapulted herself into this life, the bangle burned on her wrist.
CLICK.
The sound, so familiar to her and yet so foreign, sent a second wave of shivers through her body. Gabrielle stepped away from the door not bothering to look behind her and fired her weapon into the painted lettering. Splinters of wood and chipped paint flew through the air until the door read G.R.I.E.L. Fausto looked on in confusion for a few moments before he raised his rifle and did the same. By the time Gabrielle and Fausto lowered their weapons, there was a large hole in the door, and the small bits of paint that were left were indistinguishable as letters. Gabrielle looked down at the splintered wood and paint that littered the floor in front of the opening before she spoke.
“Follow me!” she said as she stepped forward and kicked in what remained of the door. Just as she had when entering this room, she rushed in with her rifle raised and poised to attack anything that moved.
Gabrielle and Fausto both lowered their weapons when they realized they were once again inside another room void of life. An ornate desk and a roaring fire sat on the opposite side of the room, and along both walls were shelves of beautiful leather books and paintings.
Gabrielle shot a worried look at Fausto only to realize that he had an identical look on his face. The hair on Gabrielle’s arms stood at attention, and her heartbeat pounded in her throat. Maybe they weren’t alone after all. As they looked around the room, Gabrielle noticed another door near the desk on the other side. She pointed her weapon at it, and the two made their way across the soft carpet. As she placed one foot in front of the other, Gabrielle was thankful the carpet was cushioning the sound of her steps.
Once they reached the door, Gabrielle placed her ear to the cold wood. Her eyes widened when she heard muffled voices. Someone was on the other side of the door. At least two people were having a conversation. One of the muffled voices was slightly higher than the other, but Gabrielle couldn’t make out what they were saying.
When she heard laughing, Gabrielle pressed her ear harder and harder against the door until she heard . . .
“. . . anytime now.”
The phrase pierced through Gabrielle as if she were meant to hear it.
“We know you’re there, Gabrielle. The two of you can enter.”
Gabrielle jerked back from the door and looked at Fausto who stared at her with anticipation.
“Can you hear anything?” he asked, completely unaware of what Gabrielle had heard. The only person who could have possibly known she was there was Arawn. Gabrielle stared at the puzzled look on Fausto’s face, trying to come up with a plan.
“Fausto, I need you to trust me. Keep your weapon ready.” With those words, Gabrielle lowered her rifle and pressed through the door into the next room. Fausto whispered obscenities and asked what she was doing, but his interjections were soon lost as the door partially closed behind her. Fausto fumbled with his guns and forced his way into the room behind Gabrielle.
“Welcome,” Arawn said.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The last time Gabrielle had seen Arawn, he had killed and enslaved her mother. That was at least eighty years ago when she was still in Hazel’s body. Gabrielle found herself standing at the end of a long table that stretched almost the entire length of the room.
At the head of the table, sitting like a king and looking particularly pleased with himself, was Arawn. His familiar satisfied smile made Gabrielle want to punch him in his stupid smug face. On his left, sat the man at the center of this war, Adolf Hitler.
To Arawn’s right, sat a woman Gabrielle had not seen before. Another lackey? Hitler and the woman sat across fro
m each other in complete silence, gazing into each other’s eyes as if they were lovebirds lost in a daze.
Arawn’s long, platinum hair draped over his shoulders, and he wore the same black ensemble he’d always worn. Arawn was just as she had remembered him: vile. It was as if she’d just fought him and his dogs yesterday. Hatred rose in her like bile in her stomach. Fausto burst around Gabrielle with his gun raised and pointed at Adolf Hitler.
“No one move or everyone dies!” Fausto shouted. He scanned his rifle over the three occupants of the table. Arawn laughed as he drummed his talons on the hardwood table. Gabrielle’s stomach dropped, she was going to get Fausto killed. Hitler and the woman did not move or even blink. They were living statues as they gazed at one another across the table.
“Hello, Gabrielle, it’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other. Come give uncle Arawn a little hug,” Arawn chuckled and then looked around at his table mates as if just seeing them for the first time. “Oh, don’t worry my little turtle dove; these two have no intentions of speaking. I, however, will not be silenced by the likes of you.” He turned his attention to Fausto. “I will take that.” Arawn motioned for Fausto’s rifle. “Come on, my good boy, bring the weapon to your new friend, Arawn.”
“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but the day that happens is the day I am dead,” Fausto spat as he aimed his rifle at Arawn.
“Well, have it your way,” Arawn chided and raised his hand in the air as if he were motioning for a hidden friend to come out of the shadows. Gabrielle put both of her hands in the air and lowered her rifle.
“No. Don’t!” she countered at Arawn and then turned to Fausto.
“Fausto, calm down. Trust me. Put the weapon down. It won’t help,” Gabrielle pleaded. This was her fight, and she was tired of seeing everyone she cared about die in front of her.
“What are you talking about? We have the upper hand. We’ve won,” Fausto defended.
“I don’t think so,” Arawn said.
Gabrielle looked back at him, but to her horror, he no longer sat at the end of the table. Fausto flinched when he noticed the same thing. The two were on edge as they searched the room for the god of the underworld. Suddenly, Gabrielle heard a yelp. Fausto was lifted into the air by the back of his neck. He dropped his rifle and kicked and slapped at the invisible hand that held him.
“See? Much better, no?” Arawn asked. He winked at Gabrielle and threw Fausto across the room with the flick of his wrist. His body collided with the wall and he fell limp to the floor. Gabrielle ran to Fausto’s side. He was moaning in pain, but he was still breathing.
“Oh, enough of the drama. Your little friend will be just fine. Well, for the moment. Not sure if I will let him live as my slave or just kill him outright. Hmmm, what do you think Gabrielle? Here’s what I’ll do, you willingly surrender yourself—and your little boyfriend here—and I’ll let you be my slaves for eternity. Standing offer . . .”
“Go fuck yourself Arawn!” Gabrielle spat, slowly rising from her kneeling position next to Fausto.
“Well, now, look who got sassy in her old age. How old are you now? I can never quite remember. I still see you as that scared little girl. That was always my favorite version of you. The real you.”
Gabrielle clenched her jaw but held her head high.
“It’s nice to see you’ve finally moved on from that bitch, Morrigan. I’ve got to say, Gabrielle, your standards in lovers has really come up a notch. I mean, honestly, is Morrigan a boy or a girl? Who the hell can keep it straight? No pun intended. I’m so happy you decided to get rid of . . . it. You really did me a solid there.”
Gabrielle shook in anger. How dare he talk about Morrigan like that. She raised her rifle and pointed it at Arawn. Her teeth gritted, and jaw clenched so hard, she thought her teeth might shatter.
“Don’t you dare talk about her like she’s not real. Like she’s a thing. No one should be called an ‘it,' you worthless piece of . . .” The rest of Gabrielle’s sentence was masked by the thunderous sound of her rifle going off. She sent a barrage of bullets at Arawn who just stood there waiting, boredom evident in his features. When Gabrielle stopped shooting, she looked at the god of the underworld and watched as the bullet wounds healed themselves.
“Now now, is that the type of language to use in front of your mother?” Arawn sneered. He walked to the table and placed his hands on its surface, an entitled expression on his face. Gabrielle lowered her rifle slightly before raising it again.
“What are you talking about?” she demanded as she took a step toward the table.
“I mean, the resemblance may not be what it once was, but surely you recognize your own mother, Gabrielle. I must say, I am enjoying this very much. I grow stronger, and you grow dumber.” He let out a boisterous laugh and removed his hands from the table. Gabrielle watched as he walked around the side of the table and placed his hands on the woman’s shoulders.
The woman that sat across from Adolf Hitler had a bob-style haircut and skin so pale that she looked like a walking corpse with her long nose and a slightly receded lower jaw. Arawn acted as though he were brushing dust off of her shoulder like someone would do to a collectible or trinket.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Gabrielle commanded once more. “That’s not my mother. You killed my mother, remember?” Arawn laughed as if Gabrielle was a child that had just done something silly.
“I love reuniting loved ones. It warms my heart. Don't worry, my dear. If I were as slow as you, it would probably have taken me this long to connect the dots too.” Arawn continued on as if Gabrielle hadn’t spoken.
Gabrielle’s vision blurred and she almost dropped her gun. Her whole body had gone numb with terror. It couldn’t be true. Her mother was dead. Arawn was toying with her, wasn’t he? Gabrielle’s mind tried to work through the nonsensical phrases and piece together what was happening. Just then, a thought so horrific occurred to her that she nearly felt her heart stop. Arawn controls the dead. If her mother had been killed, then she would pass into the Otherworld, unless Arawn enslaved her first.
“This lovely couple was just married; did you know that? I’m guessing by her sexy new look that your father is no longer in the picture. I hear he was just too much of a stiff for her . . .” Arawn chuckled at his own joke.
Gabrielle couldn’t take the lies. She shot another round at Arawn. She knew it wouldn’t kill him, his magic had gotten too powerful, but she needed to shoot him anyway. She lined up a shot and pulled the trigger again, but before she could shoot a third round into the gods head, her gun jammed. Arawn’s head rocked backward, but he didn’t fall.
The bullet lodged in the middle of his forehead but didn’t penetrate. After a moment, it fell to the floor, leaving Arawn’s skin as flawlessly porcelain as it had ever been.
“That was rather rude, don't you agree? I’d appreciate it if you stopped shooting me,” Arawn snarled, straightening himself back up.
“If you think that was rude, wait until you see what I am really going to do to you!” Gabrielle spat back at him, though she hadn’t actually figured out how to kill him yet.
“Can’t be any worse than what I did to your mother. If it wasn't bad enough that I had to kill her, I had to use more of my magic than I’d like to make her attractive to this . . . thing.” He gestured to Hitler, who still sat motionlessly.
“So, what’s the game this time? Still trying to beat me?” Gabrielle asked, trying to regain her composure. She kept the gun trained on Arawn even though she knew it wouldn’t hurt him.
“Oh girl, I am so over you. Why would I focus on you when I can have the power of all the souls I want? You think you’re so special, but this war has nothing to do with you. It’s all about increasing my power. And thanks to this idiot and the massive number of powerful items he’s collected for me, I’m here. I won. Game over, Gabrielle.”
“So, all of this . . . this war, millions dead, was all for you? So that you coul
d collect souls and grow in power? You’re nothing but a spoiled brat having a tantrum because he’s not the most powerful god in the world.” Gabrielle screeched in a high pitched whiny voice as she mocked Arawn who ignored her taunts.
“Oh, he was a tool by far, but I did nothing more than use that to my advantage. He was evil in his own right, and this war was already happening when I involved myself. I merely pointed him in the direction that was best for me. Sure, I had to give him little gifts here and there . . .” Arawn teased, patting her mother on the head. Gabrielle squeezed the trigger once more, but nothing happened. Jammed.
“You gave him my mother as a gift? You disgusting monster. I’ll kill you if it kills me in the process!” she shouted, throwing the rifle to the ground and pulling a pistol from her hip.
“Relax, little one. She was never really his. She has, and forever will be, mine and mine alone. I made her into a china doll just for him to play with. He named her Eva for some reason, not sure why. I have controlled him since he began collecting artifacts for me. Things similar to your bracelet. Things with power and souls all their own. I only wanted him to appear in control first.” Arawn paused as if thinking for a moment and then added, “In fact, I’m done with you. You may go now.”
Arawn shook the back of his hand at a statuesque Hitler. With Arawn’s motion, Hitler came to life. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small pistol. Gabrielle stepped away from him, not sure what he was going to do. Hitler pressed the gun against his temple and pulled the trigger.
A sharp bang reverberated off the walls of the small room, and Hitler slumped face down onto the table with a loud “thud.” Arawn laughed hysterically and clapped his hands. Gabrielle slowly backed another couple of steps away from the now lifeless dictator, a look of horrified awe on her face.
“Jesus! You really are a monster!” she mumbled, wide eyed. Arawn stopped laughing and cleared his throat.
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