by Kade Cook
“Is it Maine in general or is there something in particular that has your attention?” Gabrian’s aura flashes brightly for a second, revealing a reaction like she has gotten caught with her hand stuck in the cookie jar. Rachael notices the change in her face and realizes she may have hit a nerve. “Or should I say someone.”
Feeling her face flush, and knowing she is unable to hide it, she turns to meet Rachael’s stare. “I met this guy.”
“I knew it,” Rachael squeals as she practically jumps across the room to where Gabrian stands. “I knew it had to be something like that. Well, something else besides all the crazy Magik stuff, I mean, but I knew it.”
“Really,” Gabrian sarcastically retorts while she rolls her eyes at her friend.
“Listen, hold that thought.” Rachael reaches out and grabs Gabrian by the hands and squeezes gently in excitement. “We should go out to supper tonight. I promise that I will feed you this time. It has been forever since I have seen you, and you look like you could use a little distraction.”
With Gabrian agreeing to give Rachael’s favourite restaurant another try, Rachael hurriedly makes another reservation at Beauty & Essex then double checks their standing again before leaving to go.
THEY ARRIVE AT 146 Essex St. and walk through the pawn shop, headed for the big wooden door at the back. Once on the other side of the bouncer and through the door, they are quickly seated at the bar and the maître d’ sweetly promises them there will only be a short wait. Excusing herself and heading for the front, Gabrian is quite certain Rachael is checking on the reservation again.
Taking her coat off and settling into her seat, Gabrian notices a familiar orange hue coming from the end of the bar. She sees the profile of the same incredibly handsome bartender that had been working the last time she and Rachael were there. He finishes up with his current customer and begins to wipe down the top of the bar, then noticing her out of the corner of his eye. He turns and starts toward her with a wide smile—his ocean blue green eyes gleam. It is indeed, Thomas.
“Hey, there! I remember you,” he says, cozying up in front of her on the other side of the bar. He furrows his brow for a second, revealing rows of laugh lines around his eyes. “Gabrian,” he says in a confident tone. “You were in here about a month or so ago.”
“You remember me?”
“How could I not?”
She bites down on her bottom lip as her eyes flare open—feeling a jolt of recount rip through her—as she hopes it is not because she had passed out and caused a scene. He grins at her impishly. “You stole my heart.”
Gabrian laughs out loud at his cheesy attempt at flirting with her, feeling the tightness around her heart loosen just a bit and enabling her to actually breathe without having to try so hard. She feels the warm kiss of crimson on her cheeks, but she does not care. The easy playfulness of the encounter makes her feel better about things and so she decides to try something new. She raises the edges of her mouth seductively and widens her eyes, reciprocating his warm flirty smile.
Rachael returns from her wanderings and joins them at the bar. She sits down and begins to recite the accounts of her walkabout to her friend when she notices the strange look Gabrian has on her face. She turns her attention toward her friend’s muse and understands what it is that causes her to grin from ear to ear.
“Hm, hm. Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Rachael says, remembering the handsome bartender—interrupting their silent exchange.
“Oh, of course.” Gabrian apologizes, not realizing Rachael had actually returned.
“Rachael this is Thomas. Thomas, Rachael.” Thomas turns to look at Rachael. She gives him her best ‘I am available’ smile which normally, with her pouty lips, stunning red hair, and perhaps a little drop of hocus pocus, would capture any man’s attentions, but tonight it only catches a mere glance as Thomas nods briefly at her then returns his undivided attention back to Gabrian.
“Huh!” Rachael mumbles to herself quietly, her brow lifts crookedly—widening her dumbfounded caught-in-the-headlights look from his lack of interest in her and stumbles into the seat next to her rival.
“Soooo…what can I get you lovely ladies to drink tonight?” Thomas asks them, never taking his eyes off of Gabrian. “If I can remember correctly, it was just before the holiday and you two were drinking...Grinches.”
The name breaks Gabrian from her daze. Both Rachael and Gabrian look at each other simultaneously, spitting out the same answer in unison. “No Grinches!”
Not understanding their apparent dislike to his suggestion but not challenging it either, he puts his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Okay. You win, no Grinches.”
Gabrian and Rachael both exhale and playfully chuckle. “I will just have a Corona,” Gabrian offers then looks over at her friend. “Rachael?”
“Me too,” she says, remembering the last time they ordered drinks from there with the hope there would not be a repeat tonight.
“Not very adventurous, but you’re the boss,” he utters playfully—drawing in close for a moment—shaking his head and letting his focus swim over Gabrian’s. He inhales slowly then slips back to stand upright again, his orange hue blazing against his honey-brown skin like a summer sunset as he walks away, still grinning. He opens the upright cooler at the end of the bar and grabs two beer out of it, stuffing them with lime. Before he returns to deliver their drinks, the maître d’ greets the girls and announces to them that their table is ready.
Unlike last time, Gabrian is not really worried about being seated, to be honest. She is quite enjoying her current placement. Frowning a bit as she gets up to grab her things from the back of her bar stool, she pulls her wallet from her purse and places it down on top of the bar, opening it to get money for the drinks. Thomas places his large warm hand gently on top of hers.
“Put that away. They are on me. If...you promise to come back sometime soon.”
Gabrian looks up into his eyes, and she feels a subtle wave of electricity wash over her body, causing her face to flush again. She looks down at her feet for a moment. Finding a new source of inner strength bubbling inside of her, she meets his gaze again. This time without bashfulness, she raises her chin. Her pupils widen, creating an electric icy-blue halo to swirl around them as she holds his gaze, the debut of her own confidence in whom she has become. “I promise.”
His orange hue flares as he hears her soft words of agreement, removing his hand from hers. “I am here every weeknight from five to eleven,” he reveals with a grin. Across his cheeks, a rose hue surfaces beneath his warm skin. He glances over at Rachael, who stands with her arms crossed, watching this ongoing production patiently. “It was nice to have met you...”
“Rachael,” she reminds him, forcing her mouth to curve upward into an ugly smile that refuses to reach her eyes in her fake pleasantry, completely put off and confused with his lack of interest in her.
He points at her in acknowledgement. “Rachael. Right, sorry.”
“Yeah, you too,” she huffs flatly then quickly turns and wrinkles her nose at Gabrian as she walks by her toward the dining area.
Gabrian places her wallet back into her purse then reaches for her beer. “Thanks again.” She raises her beer slightly to cheers him and turns to follow her friend. She begins to wonder about what she has just started but then giggles lightheartedly in delight of it all.
The maître d’ ushers them through the center of the restaurant, surrounded by tables topped with crystal glasses and a bountiful assortment of strange foods. The walls alluringly wrap around them, dressed with what appears to be hundreds of antique time pieces. The ceiling dances above them, laced with drapes of pearls that sway gently causing the illusion of an ever-changing sky.
The lively chatter of voices resonates all around them from the diverse collection of patrons out and about tonight, enjoying themselves in the company of one another. Gabrian studies them and their colours. She remembers seeing all the different hues here be
fore, but tonight their colours take on new meaning for her.
It is like an underground haven for all those wishing to escape from their human facades and to be completely free, uninhibited by what they are. Gabrian is entirely absorbed in her delight of the sanctity of this place, but her moment is interrupted briefly by the Maître d’s announcement. They have reached their table. It is a cozy leather-padded, half-moon-shaped booth with a bucket of ice sitting in front of the table, already filled with Champagne.
Intrigued and wholly consumed by the magnificence of this place, Gabrian slides into her seat. The Maître d’ waits for Rachael to follow suit then hands them both a swanky black menu. He pleasantly opens the champagne and pours them each a glass then reassures them that someone will be along shortly to take their order before insisting they enjoy their meal.
Gabrian opens her menu and takes a few moments to look it over. Finding that the only thing on it that even looks remotely enticing to her is the alcohol and the coffee portions of it, she quickly closes it and sighs. Protein in its rarest form seems to be the only real means of sustenance she can stomach since her transformation. Though she does not condone it, she understands why Vampires who drink blood while taking essence would actually enjoy it.
She considers her present company and wonders if the kitchen has ever had a special request to see if they had any waiters on hand not opposed to donating a cup or two of O positive for a nice fat tip in return. She chuckles to herself at the thought of it then realizes how deranged the image actually is and shakes her head, deciding to just stick with drinking the champagne sitting idly on the corner of the table.
Laying the menu down, Gabrian scans the layout of the restaurant—taking in its intriguing ambience, thankful for all its possibilities of distraction, but Rachael notices her friend’s slight dismay. “What is wrong?”
“I don’t even know why I bother to go to restaurants.” Gabrian continues to people surf as she slips the edge of her Corona across the plumpness of her bottom lip in subtle hypnotic rhythm, not taking a drink. “Nothing looks good to me anymore.”
“Hm, that is funny,” Rachael says, looking back at her menu with a quirky grin.
Gabrian’s eyes return from their scouting and rest on her friend, who seems to have found something peculiar. “What is funny?”
“I noticed that the bartender seemed to look pretty good to you a few minutes ago,” she spits out at her playfully, but her eyes narrow into nothing more than a set of small lines filled with fluttery dark lashes and just a hint of disdain.
Gabrian rolls her eyes and laughs at her friend’s all too obvious stabs at her. She cannot help but feel a bit embarrassed by the fact Rachael witnessed her interaction with Thomas. She has always been one to keep her personal life very private, but she is not the same person anymore. Her little bout of flirting today is nothing to be ashamed of so she quickly brushes off Rachael’s comment. Besides, this is her best friend in the whole world and of all people, she should be the one Gabrian can let her guard down with.
Gabrian glances over in the direction of the bar but turns back quickly and raises her chin reflexively. “Just a bit of harmless flirting is all that was.” Truth be known, Gabrian is just as surprised as Rachael about the whole thing.
The waiter arrives and asks them if they are ready to order. Rachael asks for the pasta in red sauce, and Gabrian opts out for the bone marrow appetizer—in order to appease her companion and to not arise any concern over her lack of interest to consume real food. She does not remember Ethan ever mentioning anything about the probability of her diet changing, but then again, she never asked him either—this may have been an important topic to cover.
“So,” Rachael interrupts her train of thought. “Tell me about this guy that has the wise and powerful Gabrian all tangled up in knots.”
Gabrian’s cheery grin disappears from her face—erasing the spark from her eyes, and flares the edges of her grey aura that had been no more than that of a ghost floating around her form. A heavy weight pulls down on the corners of her mouth as she feels her heart deflate and sink deep within her chest as soon as the words come out of Rachael’s mouth. She was content thinking about Thomas and worrying about her lack of food, and now wishes Rachael had not mentioned it at all.
The brief moment of freedom she had from her torment is gone, and she longs to have it back. She reaches for her Corona and tips it up to take a large drink. The smell of the beer sends her mind flailing helplessly backward, reliving the few tender moments she had shared with Shane.
So much for a distraction, she thinks as her anxiety over his absence returns.
Rachael sees pain seep into Gabrian’s eyes and decides that teasing her about it may not be the best move. Deciding to forfeit the playful banter about this mystery guy that she had planned on, Rachael realizes maybe now would be a good time for her to soften up for a moment and be the friend she is.
Gabrian’s cheeks flush with a light rose hue that spreads gingerly across her porcelain skin—feeling ridiculous about losing her composure like this, especially in a public place—but she cannot seem to get a handle on it. She feels the moisture as it wells up in her eyes. She quickly reaches for her napkin, unfolds it, and removes any evidence of weakness.
“What is wrong with me, Rach?” Gabrian knows her friend has a lot more knowledge in the department of the heart and hopes she has some answers. “What is going on with me?”
Rachael puts down her drink and softens her expression, giving Gabrian a motherly look. “Well, you have either caught some kind of East Coast Fever that has temporarily altered your neurons or I would dare say that you have fallen for this guy.”
What Rachael has so clearly pointed out, Gabrian’s emotional side has known all along. But hearing the words out loud somehow reaches and breaks through all the barriers her logical side had set up to deny its actual possibility.
“Why does it have to feel like this?” she questions, almost pleading with her friend to give her the words she so desperately wants in order to end this torment. “Why does falling in love have to be so hard?”
Rachael reaches across the table and cradles Gabrian’s hand gently within her own. “Because if it were not, it would be that much easier to throw away when things do not go the way we want them to. It would not hold as much meaning to us or have as much power over us that enables us to keep pushing through the bad times we all endure. It has to be that way in order to survive.”
She always thought Rachael to be wise beyond her years in her own way and today, Gabrian knows why—thankful for its presence.
“Have you heard from him?”
“No,” she whispers, embarrassed to say it out loud.
“Do you have his number?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then pick up your phone, be a modern woman, and give him a call,” Rachael says, waving her fingers around at Gabrian. Then she tucks them inward, creating a cradled imaginary phone, she presses them lightly against her face to imply she is on a call and winks, grinning triumphantly as she picks up her beer and takes a drink. “Problem solved.” Knowing that one way or another this will give Gabrian the closure to her issue, she can put her mind back in order. Whichever order that may be, she is not sure; all she knows is that it will be done.
“Really?” Gabrian’s eyes open wide with the thought of calling him. “I am not so sure about that. This is not really my expertise.”
“And what is your expertise, Gabrian—sitting around, driving yourself crazy, overanalyzing every last little detail to death…yeah, that is much better.”
Rachael reaches into Gabrian’s purse hanging on the side of the vacant chair to her right and takes out Gabrian’s phone, placing it on the table in front of her. “Pick up the phone and call him already! You are a Boragen. A powerful Borrower. There is no reason for you to be afraid of anything, let alone talking to some human boy.”
Gabrian knows Rachael is right. But it is not talking to
the boy she is afraid of—it is hearing what the boy has to say that scares her.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Oath of Honour
EVER SINCE GABRIAN left for Manhattan, Jarrison and Sarapheane have had strange premonitions—something bad is lingering around the edges of the Shadows. Unsure of what kind of disturbance it is, they become concerned for their safety and the safety of Gabrian.
The secrecy around Gabrian’s family tree has only ever been divulged to the Shadow Walkers and a selective few others. Knowing their duty as Schaeduwe, and being realistic about possible events of their demise, they address their concerns with their people.
Since Orroryn has already served his two consecutive oaths with Markim and briefly with Cera, the internal workings of the Schaeduwe people have agreed that Shane, being of Orroryn’s house, should be the next in line to act as the Shadow Guardian to the Silver bloodline.
Sarapheane and Jarrison took on their promise happily, but are bound to the girl out of love more than duty. There had been no need to pass this ritual down—until now.
***
“WHAT DO YOU mean I have to be her Guardian? Why can’t Tynan do it?” Shane screams at Orroryn, wrenching the dishtowel within his hands—turning his knuckles white—then throws it at the kitchen counter, furious with what is being asked of him. He begins to pace, tormented by the absurdity of the decision. It is just too much for him to swallow.
“Because Tynan has other obligations to the Realm,” Orroryn tries to reason with Shane, but he is worried that the importance in this request will be lost on him in his rage. “She is the offspring of the Silver Mage. Only those who serve the Ancients can this oath be bestowed on. And you as my adoptive son must take on this honour as I have and my father before. This is our liege to carry on. From the day you became part of my family this responsibility fell on your shoulders, and like it or not, to refuse this would bring much shame onto yourself and your house.”
