Deceptions
Page 111
“That’s the general idea, but I’m not convinced it’s a rule.”
“It is,” I said.
“That makes it more complicated,” he said, sighing. “Why don’t we—?”
Now I was the one walking away—jogging, actually—to catch up with Gabriel.
“I can help you,” Tristan called after us.
“That’s what everybody says,” I muttered, and raced after Gabriel.
—
I’ve had quiet drives with Gabriel. Sometimes it’s a comfortable, worn-in kind of silence, both of us relaxed and burrowed deep in our thoughts. Sometimes it’s like being stuck in an empty chamber, painfully and uncomfortably aware of the lack of communication. That night, the silence was a living thing, a rat gnawing at me as I sat bound to my chair, unable to throw the beast off and escape. Gabriel’s silence forbade discussion and told me that if I opened my mouth, said a single word, it would only make the situation worse.
We were nearly at the city before he spoke.
“It isn’t true,” he said. “I’m not Gwynn.”
“I know. It’s just a role—”
“No, Olivia. I’m sorry. You seem to believe this, but it isn’t true. In fact, I’m beginning to suspect none of it is true. I understand that you’ve been in a difficult place, your world turned upside down, and it’s easy to get confused—”
“Are you suggesting I’m imagining the visions?”
“Not entirely. I think you’ve been in a susceptible state, and these creatures—fae, what have you—are taking advantage of that.”
I struggled for words, for breath. “Don’t do this, Gabriel.”
“If you’re being manipulated—”
“The only one manipulating me here is you.”
His hands gripped the wheel. “That’s not fair and—”
“In everything that’s happened, who’s been the believer? The one who won’t let me be skeptical, won’t let me make up excuses, forces me to face the truth, however harsh—”
“Exactly. However harsh. That’s what I’m doing now. This isn’t true, Olivia. You know it isn’t. You dream of some fairy prince and say I’m him?” A brusque laugh. “I didn’t expect you to fall for romantic nonsense like that—”
“You aren’t my fairy prince, Gabriel,” I said, barely forcing the words through gritted teeth. “Not by any stretch of the imagination. You aren’t him, and I’m not her. In the original, Matilda chose Gwynn. I chose Ricky. Arawn. That alone should prove—”
“—should prove it’s nonsense. All of it. You didn’t choose Ricky over me, Olivia. I wasn’t an option. I hope you realize that. If you didn’t, and I somehow conveyed the impression—”
“You conveyed no such impression.” I managed to get the words out, my chest frozen, my gut on fire, brain numb. “That is exactly what I meant. Gwynn and Matilda were lovers. Arawn and Matilda were only friends. That’s how things have changed. I’m with Ricky. You and I are friends.”
He snorted. And of everything he’d said, that was the flaming arrow that cut deepest, scorched hottest. The snort that said we weren’t friends. Not even that.
The Jag slowed at the first stoplight we’d hit. As soon as the tires stopped rolling, I opened the door.
“I can get myself back from here,” I said, and climbed out.
Did I pause a second, giving him a chance to protest? Yes. He said nothing. I slammed the door, and when the light changed, he sped away, leaving me on the street corner.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
I expected Gabriel to come back. I really did. It was 1 A.M. and a look around told me I was more likely to hail a rapist here than a taxi. Empty streets. Dark buildings. Two guys on the corner, locked in a drunken exchange, me moving my gun from my purse into a pocket.
Gabriel would realize what kind of neighborhood he’d left me in, come screeching back, put down the window and say, “Get in.” He wouldn’t be happy about it, but even if he’d all but said We aren’t friends, that thread of basic human decency would bring Gabriel back.
Gabriel did not come back.
I called a cab company and gave them the intersection. They said it would be “hours.” In other words, they weren’t coming here. I started to walk. I headed toward the two drunk guys, only because I didn’t dare turn my back on them. They stopped arguing and fixed me with assessing stares. I stared back. One grumbled and resumed the argument. The other gave in after a pause, and they went back at it, ignoring me.
I called Ricky. “I hate to do this,” I said when he answered. “But could you pick me up?”
“Sure.” The thud-thud of his feet hitting the floor, followed by a stifled yawn.
“I woke you, didn’t I?”
“Nope. Just finishing a very boring reading, waiting for my good-night text. What happened? Where’s Gabriel?”
I paused and then said, “You were right.”
“And from the sound of you, I’d rather I wasn’t. What was I right about?”
“He found out about Gwynn and Arawn. That he’s Gwynn. He . . .” I inhaled. “It went badly. Really badly. We argued. I got out of the car. He took off. I waited in case he came back, and I did phone a cab, so I wouldn’t bother you—”
“It is,” I said.
“That makes it more complicated,” he said, sighing. “Why don’t we—?”
Now I was the one walking away—jogging, actually—to catch up with Gabriel.
“I can help you,” Tristan called after us.
“That’s what everybody says,” I muttered, and raced after Gabriel.
—
I’ve had quiet drives with Gabriel. Sometimes it’s a comfortable, worn-in kind of silence, both of us relaxed and burrowed deep in our thoughts. Sometimes it’s like being stuck in an empty chamber, painfully and uncomfortably aware of the lack of communication. That night, the silence was a living thing, a rat gnawing at me as I sat bound to my chair, unable to throw the beast off and escape. Gabriel’s silence forbade discussion and told me that if I opened my mouth, said a single word, it would only make the situation worse.
We were nearly at the city before he spoke.
“It isn’t true,” he said. “I’m not Gwynn.”
“I know. It’s just a role—”
“No, Olivia. I’m sorry. You seem to believe this, but it isn’t true. In fact, I’m beginning to suspect none of it is true. I understand that you’ve been in a difficult place, your world turned upside down, and it’s easy to get confused—”
“Are you suggesting I’m imagining the visions?”
“Not entirely. I think you’ve been in a susceptible state, and these creatures—fae, what have you—are taking advantage of that.”
I struggled for words, for breath. “Don’t do this, Gabriel.”
“If you’re being manipulated—”
“The only one manipulating me here is you.”
His hands gripped the wheel. “That’s not fair and—”
“In everything that’s happened, who’s been the believer? The one who won’t let me be skeptical, won’t let me make up excuses, forces me to face the truth, however harsh—”
“Exactly. However harsh. That’s what I’m doing now. This isn’t true, Olivia. You know it isn’t. You dream of some fairy prince and say I’m him?” A brusque laugh. “I didn’t expect you to fall for romantic nonsense like that—”
“You aren’t my fairy prince, Gabriel,” I said, barely forcing the words through gritted teeth. “Not by any stretch of the imagination. You aren’t him, and I’m not her. In the original, Matilda chose Gwynn. I chose Ricky. Arawn. That alone should prove—”
“—should prove it’s nonsense. All of it. You didn’t choose Ricky over me, Olivia. I wasn’t an option. I hope you realize that. If you didn’t, and I somehow conveyed the impression—”
“You conveyed no such impression.” I managed to get the words out, my chest frozen, my gut on fire, brain numb. “That is exactly what I meant. Gwynn and Matilda were lovers. Arawn and Matilda were only friends. That’s how things have changed. I’m with Ricky. You and I are friends.”
He snorted. And of everything he’d said, that was the flaming arrow that cut deepest, scorched hottest. The snort that said we weren’t friends. Not even that.
The Jag slowed at the first stoplight we’d hit. As soon as the tires stopped rolling, I opened the door.
“I can get myself back from here,” I said, and climbed out.
Did I pause a second, giving him a chance to protest? Yes. He said nothing. I slammed the door, and when the light changed, he sped away, leaving me on the street corner.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
I expected Gabriel to come back. I really did. It was 1 A.M. and a look around told me I was more likely to hail a rapist here than a taxi. Empty streets. Dark buildings. Two guys on the corner, locked in a drunken exchange, me moving my gun from my purse into a pocket.
Gabriel would realize what kind of neighborhood he’d left me in, come screeching back, put down the window and say, “Get in.” He wouldn’t be happy about it, but even if he’d all but said We aren’t friends, that thread of basic human decency would bring Gabriel back.
Gabriel did not come back.
I called a cab company and gave them the intersection. They said it would be “hours.” In other words, they weren’t coming here. I started to walk. I headed toward the two drunk guys, only because I didn’t dare turn my back on them. They stopped arguing and fixed me with assessing stares. I stared back. One grumbled and resumed the argument. The other gave in after a pause, and they went back at it, ignoring me.
I called Ricky. “I hate to do this,” I said when he answered. “But could you pick me up?”
“Sure.” The thud-thud of his feet hitting the floor, followed by a stifled yawn.
“I woke you, didn’t I?”
“Nope. Just finishing a very boring reading, waiting for my good-night text. What happened? Where’s Gabriel?”
I paused and then said, “You were right.”
“And from the sound of you, I’d rather I wasn’t. What was I right about?”
“He found out about Gwynn and Arawn. That he’s Gwynn. He . . .” I inhaled. “It went badly. Really badly. We argued. I got out of the car. He took off. I waited in case he came back, and I did phone a cab, so I wouldn’t bother you—”
