The Gabrielle Series Boxed Set

by Zachary Chopchinski

  She thought to what she would have been dreaming. What sorts of tales her father had read to her just before bed, what innocent adventures she was planning for the following day. Gabrielle would have given anything to be in that very bed, happily drifting off to sleep. The rain trickled down the glass, and a gust of wind pushed Gabrielle’s silver hair into her eyes as a small tear weaved its way down her face. A small branch lightly danced across the window, and Gabrielle remembered how when she was younger, that branched used to frighten her.

  Everything fell silent. The rain and thunder no longer made a sound, even as it fell upon her ears. She heard nothing, other than the dull tapping of the branch on the glass window. The rhythmic pounding of her heart stopped as it spasmed in terror. This couldn't be it.

  “No.” The word crept from her mouth, so soft Gabrielle wasn’t sure if she had actually spoken it aloud or just thought it. She remembered this night. This was the night that changed everything for her. This was the night her father died. Gabrielle was frozen in horror, she willed her feet to move, to run back to her loft and hide. She couldn’t bear to see her father die one more time, but before she could collect herself, a sound coming from the other side of the house caused her to jerk her head to the side.

  Just a silhouette, backlit by the small light behind him, Gabrielle’s father came into view carrying a large ladder under his arm. Always to be the hero of his little girl, he was on a mission to defeat the monster that had plagued her dreams that night; the evil branch from the tree that tapped on her window.

  Gabrielle didn't know what to do. Should she call out? Should she run to him and beg him not to get on the rain slicked ladder? She couldn’t just sit there, having this chance to save him, and let it pass. She was a hero now. She’d saved lives and souls, she could easily save her father.

  Lightning lit the sky, making Gabrielle flinch and duck behind the tree. Her father walked casually up to the side of the house and placed the ladder against it, the top stopping just below her old window. He looked at the top of the structure and wiggled the base to test its sturdiness. He must have thought it safe, as he was up on the steps in an instant.

  “Not again . . .” Gabrielle whispered, crouching even lower next to the tree. She knew what was going to happen, and she was going to stop it. With every step that her father took toward the top, she prepared herself by tightening her muscles and arching her back. She was fast. She’d always been fast. She could make it there in time to save her father. She could just say she was passing by and saw him slip, he’d thank her, maybe he would even hug her, and she could smell that familiar scent one more time.

  Her father reached the peak of the ladder and began his battle with the branch that tapped at his little girl’s window. He braced himself with one knee against the wall of the home and grabbed the branch with both hands. With a yank and a twist, the branch snapped, and he casually threw it to the ground.

  Gabrielle’s stomach turned as she thought about what would happen next, but she knew that once more she had to be a hero. Her father paused and peered into the window. Gabrielle could still remember his face, that warm, comforting look he gave her. The face he made right before the fall. Be ready. Gabrielle clenched her fist and focused on her father’s feet.

  She leaned forward on her front leg and prepared to sprint when something unexpected happened. The rain stopped. It was as though the heavens granted her this final gift. A reprieve from all of the pain that she had suffered and gratitude for all she’d done. Everything was quiet again, and she looked on at her father, safe atop the ladder, preparing to lower himself. Gabrielle let out a long and silent sigh of relief. Just then, she shifted weight, and a small branch under her front foot snapped.

  CLICK.

  Gabrielle let her eyes drift down to the source of the sound she’d heard hundreds of times, the sound that signaled when danger was near. Gabrielle’s eyes widened as she looked at the piece of jewelry sitting innocently on her wrist. She hadn’t heard the sound in years. It wasn’t supposed to happen here, she was supposed to be safe now that she was home.

  A rattle came from across the lawn as the snapping of the branch caused her father to turn and scan the tree line. For a moment, Gabrielle got exactly what she wanted. For an instant that will forever be lost to eternity, she looked deeply into her father’s soft, loving eyes. That instant was shattered when, as he turned on the top rung, he lost his footing and fell to the cold ground.

  ***

  Gabrielle didn't care about anything anymore. Nothing mattered. Not her home, not the curiosities, not even the damn bracelet. She vaguely remembered taking the bracelet off and chucking it into the maze of stuff that cluttered her downstairs antique shop, but when that happened and where it ended up, she didn’t know. The only thing Gabrielle knew was that her father was dead and she was the one that killed him. After that, she somehow ended up back in her loft, but she couldn’t remember exactly how she got here, or how long ago that had happened.

  Everything moved as though it were a dream. She had fought for so much. She had done amazing and terrifying things. She’d saved millions of souls from a foul god and stopped the darkness, and this was her thanks?

  Having to know that all those years ago it was actually her that had killed her father? It was her fault that her mother had to pick up an extra job just to keep a roof over Gabrielle’s head. It was her fault that her mother slept all the time and wept into the old leather of the sofa in her father’s study. No!

  The thought spread through her mind like a fire. This is all Arawn’s fault. He’s the one that killed my mother, he’s the one that pushed me into this ridiculous journey in the first place, if it weren’t for him, Mom and Dad would both still be alive. Hatred burned hot in her body for the dead god. She wished she could kill him all over again. She wished she could kill every single hound, Sluagh, monster, and evil creature Arawn ever controlled.

  Gabrielle stared down at her feet. The edges of her vision were black and pulsated with the rapid beating of her heart. She had given everything for nothing. She had nothing to show for all her sacrifices but an old building filled with even older things, a bloody history of dead friends and lost loved ones.

  Gabrielle mindlessly swirled a small metal spoon in her cup of tea. The spoon bounced off the edges of the ceramic tea cup, but the clanking sounds were muffled. Gabrielle didn’t even remember making the cup of tea, it was like it just appeared there after having . . . she pushed the thought away with a loud smash of her spoon against the cup. She expected tears to drip into her hot drink, but she had run out of tears. Years of loss and heartbreak had finally broken her, and she had nothing left to give except hatred.

  Gabrielle reached for a bundle of small, white flowers. If she had to lose everything in this fight, she would make sure that Arawn lost everything. She was going to kill every creature Arawn ever cared about, if the asshole even had a heart. She reached for the honey to dribble a little bit into her last drink, but as her hands found the jar, a burst of rage came forth. Gabrielle grasped the small jar and threw it to the ground, shattering it. Even in death, Arawn was able to get to her.

  Gabrielle brought her attention back to the swirling liquid. Grabbing the handle of the spoon, she smashed the hemlock flowers at the bottom of the cup. She squeezed her eyes shut and screamed at the top of her lungs. Why not? She’d been doing nothing but fighting this entire time. Why should she go quietly?

  She took a last look at her loft. The fire crackled in the distance, with two old chairs sitting just beside the warm light. Gabrielle took a deep breath through her nose and clutched the small cup in her hands. She had lost her sanity the instant she peered into her father’s eyes.

  “Arawn, I’m coming for you,” and with her final words, she tilted her head backward and poured the tea down her throat.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The sour taste of her decision still lingered on her tongue as she lay, looking at the wooden floor underneath
her. Gabrielle’s jaw and side of her head were throbbing from where she hit the ground. She must have fallen from some height, though she only remembered black. Why was she still in her loft?

  Blinking rapidly to focus, Gabrielle slowly brought herself up to a sitting position with her back against the cabinets. As she steadied herself, she noticed a small metallic object sitting on the floor next to her. Confusion surged through her as she timidly reached out and grasped her old friend.

  She paused for a moment as she ran her thumb over the old engraving. A tear escaped Gabrielle’s eye and ran down her cheek. She squeezed the cold metal so tightly in her hands that the silver pinched into her flesh and her knuckles blanched. So much had been sacrificed and lost in the name of this thing. Gabrielle held nothing but disdain for the odd trinket. Yet, in spite of all that was lost, it was the only thing that had refused to leave her side.

  Her eyes rolled over the dented and scratched metal, the words hardly visible after years of wear. As she slowly slid the bracelet onto her wrist, a burning sensation engulfed her arm. Gabrielle clamped her eyes shut and fell forward on her hands and knees. This wasn’t the usual pain that warned her of danger. This was far, far worse.

  Gabrielle clamped her teeth shut, trying to will herself to hold in the scream bubbling up her throat when she started to hear whispers. She couldn’t make out the words or who was talking, but the buzzing sound irritated her ears as it grew in intensity.

  One by one, the murmurs multiplied as more and more spoke. She clutched her wrist and fought the burning as the voices grew louder and louder. Hundreds of voices. Their whispers were so loud she couldn’t hear her own screaming until her voice went horse. When the whispers turned to screams, Gabrielle knew she had to act. No longer would she let Arawn’s games get the best of her. This is where it would end, once and for all.

  Mustering her strength, Gabrielle threw her eyes open and forced herself into a standing position. Immediately, the screaming stopped, and surprisingly, so did the pain. Gabrielle stood with a furled brow and tense shoulders as she surveyed the surprisingly vacant loft before her. She had expected to be greeted by something—a ghost, minion of Arawn’s, something other than the empty room she was standing in.

  “Come find me . . .” a voice echoed in the silence. That bastard! Gabrielle knew that voice anywhere. Arawn was still alive. Good. Gabrielle thought. Now I can truly make him pay for everything he’s done. She looked around the room once more for the source of the voice. He was near, she could feel it and almost smell his foul breath.

  “Why you hiding, Arawn? Afraid of little ol’ me?” Gabrielle walked around the kitchen counter and stepped into the center of the room. Her oddities all seemed in place and untouched. For a brief moment, she wondered how long she’d been out.

  Gabrielle paused as she walked passed the hallway that led to the shop. Her eyes locked on the white door. A set of long, deep claw marks scraped down the face of the white surface, exposing a red, blood-like wound.

  CLICK.

  “Why won’t you just die already? What do I have to do to be rid of your annoying voice?” Gabrielle said as she ran her fingers over the scratches in the door.

  She expected that Arawn was drawing her into the shop to ambush her amongst the vast stacks as one of his minions had attempted long ago. “This is my home. My world. You cannot win here!” Anger rose within her as Gabrielle reached for the handle. As she clasped the old bronze, a crash came from behind her, and she spun on her heels, her fists poised for a fight.

  A wooden club was lying on the floor behind her. What the . . .? Gabrielle slowly lowered her hands as she studied the strange wooden object. This was the same club that had appeared in the alleyway in France years ago when she was first starting her adventure. Though Gabrielle had grown skeptical of everything that happened to her, the club had saved her life once, and she knew that it could save her life again.

  Without hesitation, she reached down and clutched the wooden handle. Almost like electricity, a shock rang through her hand and spread to the rest of her body. Reflexively, she let go of the club, only to find that the club wouldn’t fall to the ground. It hovered in the palm of her hand as if she were still holding onto it.

  Gabrielle stared at her hand, her mouth slightly ajar in shock. Blue, veiny lines appeared at her wrist from under the bangle. The electric veins grew and spread upward, wrapping around her wrist, then her arm, then higher over her shoulders like ivy climbing an old building.

  She took a step backward as if she could simply walk away from the veins. From the corner of her eye, Gabrielle caught a glimpse in a mirror that hung on the wall just next to the door. Her eyes bulged when she saw her small framed reflection. Fifteen-year-old Gabrielle looked back at her from the mirror in horror.

  The vaguely familiar curve of her hips and the curly red locks that hung from her head were covered in blue, electric veins. She looked from her reflection to her hands then to her face once more. The strange tribal design covered her entire body, and the vibrating had finally stopped. Another pinch at her wrist made Gabrielle look at her bracelet.

  It no longer looked aged, or battle worn. It looked as though it had just been forged. The designs were deep and crisp, and Gabrielle realized that the exact same vine and knotted design from the bangle was now what covered her body. She didn’t know how or why, but a new power had consumed her, and she was going to use it to kill Arawn.

  As she felt this new resolve of invincibility, the door next to her emitted a low creak. She turned and raised the club, preparing to swing at whatever was about to walk through the door, but nothing happened. Slowly, Gabrielle reached out and pushed the door open, making sure to keep the club poised for attack.

  With the door fully open, she realized that she was not looking at the dark stairwell that led down to Alexandra’s shop. Her eyes widened as she looked over the vast grove of The Other World. The sun shone through the windows of the loft, yet it was a starlit night in the grove.

  Gabrielle had been here once, long ago. This was the place her mother had died, the place Arawn claimed as his home. A cool breeze blew past Gabrielle and beckoned her to step through the threshold. She looked to her weapon and to the ground before her. Arawn would not live past the day. She would gladly give her final life to make sure of it.

  Gabrielle stepped through the threshold and placed both feet firmly on the soft grass of The Other World. The stars and the moon shone down upon the grove with such beauty and brightness that it could have been daylight.

  As Gabrielle left the doorway and took a deep breath, the familiar sensation of power rushed through her. It was just as it had been years ago. The intoxicating rush of energy, knowing she would be able to fight a god and win, was so intense that she almost laughed. This is where she belonged. This is where the little girl inside her had died, and the god emerged. The power may not be hers to keep, but Gabrielle was thankful for it.

  The sound of the door slamming behind her jolted her, but before she could turn, a familiar voice froze her in place.

  “I’m back . . .” Arawn’s sing-song voice made Gabrielle want to throw up the tea she’d just drank. “I was starting to wonder if you would grace me with your presence. Now, that’s not to say that I don't enjoy these littles meetings of ours, but I think it’s safe to say that this one will be oh so special. Don't you think?” Arawn continued, his voice full of its usual bravado.

  Gabrielle had once been afraid of him, but not anymore. Now, the sound of his voice only brought up the urge to vomit…and stab him.

  When she turned to face the voice behind her, she was shocked to see that the door she’d just entered through was gone. An empty field and a distant line of trees were the only things she could see.

  “I have to say, I’m especially enjoying this moment. There is nothing more exciting than the end of a long journey. Although, I can’t say that the end is going to be exactly a bed of roses for you.” Arawn’s disembodied voice made the
hair on Gabrielle’s arms stand at attention.

  Gabrielle poised herself for a fight, allowing her senses to heighten as she looked around for signs of the god. She may be back in her old body, but the knowledge she had learned through decades of tragedy was still ingrained in her brain.

  “I think it’s safe to say that we didn’t come here to flirt, Arawn. Let’s not waste any more time. I’m ready to end this one way or another.”

  “I am so excited to hear that . . .” Arawn whispered into Gabrielle’s ear. She flung herself around and came face to face with the devil himself. “I am sure this will be an interesting meeting,” he finished as Gabrielle stood stunned.

  Arawn stood with his hands clasped, looking like the dapper villain he was, with his clothing perfectly in place and his hair cascading to his shoulders. Surrounding Arawn were at least a dozen of his hounds . . . though, these beasts were different, larger. His hounds had always been a bit large, but these creatures were massive. Their jaws hung open revealing endless rows of razor-like fangs and a foul liquid dripped from their jowls.

  “As always, you have to bring your minions with you. Too afraid to fight me on your own, Arawn?” Gabrielle challenged, clearing her throat and trying to press her fear down.

  “Well, I say, you do seem to have my ticket punched, don't you? Silly me, here I thought I finally had you. Then I suppose this is all in vain. If only I held dominion . . .” Arawn mocked a sheepish tone as he looked at the ground and shook his head. “Oh wait, now I remember.” Arawn raised his gaze, and a wicked smile spread across his face. “You’ve made a foolish mistake this time, little one. Your last life, the one that you were so convinced would stop me and maybe save yourself, was the last in the line. Like a careless cat, you’re now out of lives. You are MINE now. Fight me all that you would like, but I maintain dominion here, and you are now my pet.”