by Jessica Roe
They both knew the answer to that, and it kind of pissed Gable off that Terelle was stooping so low. “You know as well as I do there's a whole bunch of crap Pablo doesn't know about me, and that's how I'm gonna keep it. I've gotten pretty frikkin' hot at keeping secrets.”
“I'm worried about you. I've been hearing rumours...”
What else was new? “Oh yeah?”
“It's about the missing Outcasts, those who have gone missing without a trace...a lot like Sacha.”
Gable's head whipped up so fast that her hair flew into her eyes. Did Terelle know something? A possible lead? “What about them?”
“My people suspect that Pablo is the one having them kidnapped. It's why they fear him so.”
Terelle wasn't looking at Gable like she was suspicious of her, but she had a curious glean to her eyes, like she wanted to see how Gable would react to the news—rumour. For the first time in maybe ever, she found herself angry with Terelle. How could she possibly think that Gable would ever agree to work for Pablo if she thought that he was the one who had taken Sacha away in the first place?
She shook her head. “No way,” she replied fiercely. “I know Pablo is bad, and I know you don't like him, but he isn't sick. Whoever is taking those Outcasts is sick. Besides, don't you think I'd have noticed a room full of chained up Outcasts if Pablo had them stashed away somewhere in The Serpent?”
“Maybe he has them somewhere else?”
“No. No! I'd have heard something. Staff whispers, hushed conversations, something. It isn't Pablo, I'm telling you.”
Still unconvinced, Terelle put a reassuring hand on Gable's knee. “I just want you to be careful. I don't want you to get caught up in something awful that you think you can't get out of. If you say it isn't Pablo, then I accept that. I don't believe for a second you'd be involved in anything so horrifying.” Her face hardened, and for a moment, Gable was witness to the terrifying Faerie that Terelle had once been. “I don't care for the activities of the Outcasts who live outside of Yarmac and Bogely's, and know that I would never harm you, ever. But if Pablo was ever to approach my people with malicious intent, I would end him. I'd make him pay in ways he could never imagine, no matter how long he has lived on this earth.” Her face softened, and she was back to the mellow woman that Gable knew. “I wish you would cut that man out of your life. I understand that it seems impossible to get away from him, but you can stay here with us and we can protect you. You may not be an Outcast, but you're one of us, Gable.”
They'd had this conversation before, too many times. And it always went the same way. “I can't leave Pablo, T. He takes care of me. I owe him so much. He picked me up at my lowest and made me better.” She ignored Terelle's pinched expression. Terelle often accused her of being brainwashed, but she just didn't understand. No one did. “I know he isn't good, but neither am I. He gets me.”
“And when exactly did you stop being good?” she demanded, exasperated. “Because I don't remember it happening!”
Gable glared at her, wondering how her friend could miss such an obvious answer. It was just one giant, heart breaking circle. “The day I agreed to work for Pablo.”
GABLE'S WHOLE WORLD shattered the day that Sacha went out to buy breakfast.
By then they'd been best friends, soul mates, two halves of the same person for six years years. Life was good. It was amazing. They had an apartment together—it was tiny and noisy and right above a smelly Chinese restaurant and there was only one bedroom and they each had to work two jobs just to afford the rent, but it was theirs and it was home and they loved it. They'd worked hard to make it theirs; scrimped and saved and worked the skin off their fingers to buy each second hand, loved piece of furniture, each little bit that made it home. They'd decided to take turns using the bedroom, but more often than not they ended up sharing, starting the night off at opposite ends of the bed and waking up the next morning wrapped in each other's arms.
Relationships were forgotten—what was the point when they had each other? Gable had tried dating a couple of times, but all she'd wanted to do was wrap it up as quickly as possible so that she could get home to Sacha. Also, having a furious six foot five Werewolf glaring at her dates when they picked her up was always a mood killer. Sacha had been lucky that one guy he'd punched for 'looking at her wrong' hadn't pressed charges.
The day everything changed had started off as a good one. It was one of those nice, rare days when neither of them had to work, and Gable had been taking advantage of her extra time by sleeping in.
Her morning of piece ended abruptly when Sacha bounced onto their bed—practically sending her flying—and waking her from the dream she'd been having about...well, him.
He was a ball of fidgety energy that morning, happy and excitable. The full moon wasn't for almost an entire month, and he was always at his least troubled then.
An early riser, he was fully dressed in faded jeans and a steel blue Henley shirt, but he snuggled down under the covers anyway, boots and all. With a happy sigh, he pulled her body flush against his. He kissed her neck, leaving behind a warm tingle. The lines between friendship and something more seemed to have been begun to blur between the two of them, and neither of them seemed to want it to stop.
“I want pancakes,” he murmured into her ear, and she could practically feel his giant grin against her skin. He wrapped the ends of her hair around his finger. She'd let it grow back out to full length, and he was forever playing with it.
“Go make some then,” she replied sleepily, yanking the blanket back over her head.
Persistent as ever, he pulled it back down. They fought over it for a few moments, until Gable finally gave up. Resigned, she rolled onto her back and Sacha rested his chin on her breastbone, looking up at her with big eyes—the big eyes he only pulled out when he really wanted something.
“But I want you to make them,” he said. “You make them better. Mine always burn or come out all lumpy. Like pancake aliens.”
She couldn't deny that. They bickered for a couple more minutes until Sacha resorted to playing dirty—he brought the dimple out—and Gable gave in, just like she always did.
“Fine,” she conceded. “But you need to go out and buy ingredients. We have no food in, you eat like a—”
“Werewolf?”
Gable poked him in his hard, lean stomach. “Still not an excuse.”
“Why can't you go to the store?”
Amazed by his cheek, she sat up and smacked him in the face with her pillow, smirking triumphantly when he made an 'oomph' sound. “Because it's for your damn pancakes, you big oaf!”
“Yeah, okay.” He smiled sweetly at her, and it lasted a few seconds too long for it to be just friendly. Gable's heart pounded and her stomach swirled, just like it did when she'd swam in the sea as a child and a wave had unexpectedly lifted her off her feet. It was scary and exhilarating, and it was another one of those blurred lines that she couldn't stop thinking about. It had been happening so often—secret smiles, shared glances, pounding hearts—and the thing was, it wasn't frightening Gable like it had when they'd first met. In fact, it excited her. Because maybe they were both ready for things to change. They weren't the same lonely, troubled kids they'd been when they'd first met. They were adults; she was twenty three and he was twenty four. Gable was hopeful for them. Hopeful for their future.
He'd been gone for almost thirty minutes before Gable finally managed to drag herself out of bed. Ambling into their tiny kitchen area, she groaned when she saw how wild her bed head was in their mirror.
A noise behind her made her jump and she turned around to find Sacha standing by the sofa. “Holy crap,” she cried, putting a hand over her racing heart. “You scared the shit outta me. I thought you'd left already.”
For a moment he looked confused as he glanced around the room. He stared down at his arms, and then up at her. Something in his eyes gave her pause—they were different than they'd been thirty minutes before. Sadder, older some
how, and the twinkle had vanished. He took in her face and her body hungrily, like it had been way too long since he'd last seen her, and she suddenly felt very conscious of the fact that she was only wearing one of his old t-shirts. He had never looked at her that way before—like he was desperate for her.
“What's wrong with you?” she questioned worriedly.
He shook his head and forced out a smile. “Nothing.” His voice was hoarse. “I just...I was supposed to be buying pancake ingredients, wasn't I?”
“Well...yeah. But now I'm thinking you forgot and spent your money on drugs instead. If you've taken any drugs you know I'll kick your ass for real, Sacha.”
This time, his smile was genuine. Small, but genuine. “No drugs, I promise. I forgot something...my wallet.”
“Oh, okay. Are you sure you're all good? You look sad.”
“I missed you.” The words seemed to burst out of him like air out of a balloon, like he couldn't help himself.
Gable snorted. “You saw me half an hour ago, weirdo.” She went over to the fridge to get some juice. “I know I'm awesome,” she teased over her shoulder. “but get a hold of yourself.”
Her head was buried in the fridge, so it came as a surprise when Sacha wrapped his arms tightly around her waist from behind. He pulled her up against him and buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. Oookay, maybe he was on drugs.
“I love you,” he muttered urgently into her neck. “I love you so much. You know that, right? Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. You changed my life.”
“Sacha, you're freaking me out. What's your deal?” She turned in his arms to face him, but instead of answering, he slid his hands up her body and over her curves in a very intimate way, like he was memorizing every inch of her. He took her cheeks in his large hands and kissed her softly on her top lip, and then her bottom one, and then he kissed her properly, thoroughly. She kissed him back. Of course she kissed him back, because it was Sacha and he was her everything and he smelled so damned good. It was their fist ever kiss, and his lips melded against hers perfectly. He was so heartbreakingly gentle, but passionate at the same time, and it took Gable's breath away.
It ended way too soon.
“Goodbye, Gable,” he murmured, pulling away and heading to the front door. “I'll...see you later.”
The kiss had silenced her, and all she could do was watch as the door closed shut behind him.
He never came back.
At first she assumed their kiss had scared him just as much as it had her, so when he didn't come home after a couple of hours she didn't worry. But after a few more hours she got hungry and tired of waiting on him to get back and she was kind of pissed that he'd thrown that amazing kiss at her and then vanished, so she went to look for him.
But Gable couldn't find Sacha anywhere. Not in any of their usual hangouts—their favourite bars, or parks, or movie theatres. He wasn't working, and no one at Yarmac and Bogely's had seen him. Cadby couldn't even sense him. She tried calling him, but he'd left his cell back at the apartment.
He didn't come home that night, or the next night, or the next.
Gable stopped being pissed, and became very, very worried.
Sacha never disappeared. Never. He always let her know where he was or what he was doing. It was just the way he was with her.
The days she spent searching for him turned to weeks. She revisited every place they'd ever been together, and explored every place they hadn't. She forgot all about eating, sleeping, showering, and she barely even remembered how to breathe. The pain of loss was unbearable, like a giant hand had clamped around her heart and had slowly squeezed away until all that was left was a useless pile of sloppy, dead heart mush. Both of her boss' fired her because she refused to quit looking for Sacha long enough to work, and she lost their apartment when she couldn't make the rent.
Gable was homeless once more, no better off than she'd been when she was seventeen, except this time Sacha wouldn't appear out of nowhere and make her life better. He was gone, no trace of him left behind, almost like he'd never even existed. All she had to prove she'd once had him within her grasp was his stupid leather jacket, now her most prized possession.
At her very lowest point, exhausted and starving and empty of everything but loneliness, Gable almost considered giving up hope of ever getting Sacha back. Seconds later, she despised herself for even thinking it, and she threw herself down onto a park bench—their park bench, the one they'd spent their very first night together on. Kind of wanting to die, she brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them tightly.
How had she let herself become so vulnerable?
Who was she kidding? She knew exactly why.
Sacha had wriggled his way past her defences, and she'd allowed him to do it, because she'd thought he'd never leave her. She wanted to blame him. How could he abandon her? He'd told her he loved her, promised he'd be with her always. And Sacha never broke his promises.
Gable knew the truth. Wherever he was, he wasn't there of his own free will.
She'd been hearing whispers amongst the Outcasts all over the city. Outcasts, even Dark Ones and Strays, were vanishing. Being kidnapped, most thought. Disappearing without a clue, just like Sacha, never to be seen again. The thought gave her chills. Could Sacha have been kidnapped?
What other options were there?
She knew he could have left her of his own choice, which she didn't really believe. And the only other thing that made sense was that he was dead, which she refused to believe. None of those scenarios were something she truly wanted to have to consider.
She felt the closest to tears she'd ever been since the death of her parents.
Gable wanted to be hopeful, but she was only filled with despair. Where did she continue her search next? She was out of resources, and with the way she was going, she knew she was going to end up killing herself through personal neglect. Who would find Sacha then?
The bench shifted slightly as someone sat down next to her. Probably another homeless looking to bum a smoke. She didn't even lift her chin from her knees.
“Why do you look so sad?” His voice was not what she was expecting. It was gentle and polished, and it wrapped around her like a silk sheet. It was so compelling that she couldn't help but look up at him.
The man sitting next to her was definitely no homeless guy, that was for sure. In fact, he looked like the kind of man who'd never sat down on a dirty park bench in his life, so Gable was instantly suspicious. He wore a perfectly pressed grey suit and a spotless white shirt, and his hair cut had probably cost more than her entire annual rent. But his eyes crinkled at the corners when they looked into hers, and there was something warm there, inviting, almost hypnotizing. She sort of wanted to tell him her troubles.
“My friend is missing,” she told him. “And now I'm alone and I have nothing.”
His expression didn't change, but Gable thought she caught a flash of something in his eyes. It passed by too quickly for her to tell. “My name is Pablo Nunez.” He held out a hand for her to take. His skin was soft and warm. “Have you heard of me?”
Of course she had. Everyone had heard of him. “You're the richest man in the city,” she said. “A business man.” That wasn't all she knew. “The Outcasts are afraid of you.” From what she'd heard, she knew she could talk about them without confusing him. “They say you've lived for hundreds of years, and that crossing you is a very bad idea. They think you're a villain.”
He threw back his head and laughed, and then looked taken aback by it, like he didn't laugh all too often. “I like you, Gabrielle Xanders. People aren't usually so blunt with me.” She noticed that he didn't deny his villain status.
“How do you know my name?”
“I know a lot of things,” he answered mysteriously.
“Then you should know I go by Gable.”
Pablo smiled, showing off his perfect, white teeth. “Dear lord, I really do like you.” He le
aned back and spread his arms out across the back off the bench, appearing relaxed. “Would you like a job, Gable?”
She hadn't been expecting that. “What kind of job?”
“Just a few things here and there; nothing serious to start off with. You'd be...an errand girl, if you will. I can offer you a very good wage, and a place to live. You don't look as if you've slept in a bed for a while.”
Way to sugar coat it. “But...why would you offer me a job when you don't even know me?”
He looked away from her and stared off into the distance, his face stoic. After a few moments, Gable was sure he wasn't going to answer her. When he eventually spoke, he said something that cut straight to her heart. “Because I know what it's like to be alone.”
And she was sold.
Besides, she was desperate. Pablo had money, and no doubt he had important connections, and all kinds of resources. If she took the job, she could use him to find Sacha.
“Well?” he asked her, standing and holding out a hand for her to take.
Hesitating only a moment, she slipped her hand in his. “I'm in.”
After that, things moved pretty fast. He bought her an apartment—the most luxurious she'd ever seen—and had her cleaned up. Her image sharpened, her clothes went from second hand rags to designer, and her hair became so expensive to care for she was sure they were cutting it with diamond scissors. For the first time since running away from LA, money was no longer an issue for her. It occurred to her that it probably wasn't the norm for one of Pablo's lowly employees, but she was too swept away by the magnificence of her new life to care.
The things he asked her to do started simple enough. She picked up his dry cleaning, brought his lunch, sorted through his mail. The kind of things an assistant should do, and Pablo already had an assistant.
Chase was sweet and kind and he helped Gable out a lot during those first few weeks. He would whisper helpful hints into her ear when no one was looking, take her out at night when she got lonely, help her out when she got things wrong. When she got bored of picking up laundry, he explained to her that everything Pablo asked her to do was a test to see how easily she complied.
