A sound like a wounded beast echoed from the deep recesses of the club, strangled and wet.
Gabriel rolled his eyes. Honestly, the fucking demon couldn’t have been less compliant if he were Chernikov himself, resurrected from oblivion just to torment him.
Dorian’s eyes widened. “And who the bloody hell isthat?”
“The former owner of the blood. I’ve been questioning him.”
“Questioning? Or torturing?”
“Potato, po-tah-to.” Gabriel sighed. He almost wished the ghost-girl were back instead. A fuck lot easier dealing withherthan explaining the events of the last twenty-four hours to his brothers—a thing he’d been dreading ever since he’d wiped out the mages at Shimmer.
Dorian turned toward the demon’s choked sounds.
“That one’s not talking,” Gabriel said. “Trust me.”
“He’ll talk tome,” Dorian said. “I’ve got a way with demons.”
“AndI’vegot his fucking tongue.” He kicked the wet slab out from under the bar where it’d landed earlier, still slick with blood. Then, at Dorian’s irate expression, “What? You told me I can’t go round killing them. You never said anything about mutilation.”
Dorian rubbed his forehead and sighed into his hand. “Still alive, then, I presume?”
“Caught in a devil’s trap, going nowhere fast.” Gabriel glanced toward the back of the club, the same shadowed booth where he’d recently taken out the demon Mikhail.
He Who Likes to Watch.
Gabriel hadn’t bothered asking the new bastard’s name—had no idea whether he liked to watch, too—but he’d plucked out his beady black eyes with a cocktail fork anyway. It was almost as satisfying as ripping out his tongue, though he didn’t know where the eyes had ended up.
Perhaps Jacinda would happen upon them the next time she mixed one of her infamous drinks.
A bitter laugh caught in his throat, quickly dashed by his anger.
Dorian stalked back into the shadows, returning only seconds later, his face grim. To Aiden, he said, “Phone Isabelle, will you? We need to exorcise that monstrosity before he re-spawns and word reaches Rogozin.”
“One more Chernikov castaway down. Pity.” Gabriel let out a hum of mock sympathy, then took another swig from his bottle, the room growing fuzzy around the edges. Was it the booze? The curse? His own shite karma, finally come to bite him in the arse?
Dorian seethed. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you had a good reason for this?”
“Thank you,” Gabriel replied.
“Thereason, Gabriel. Out with it.” Impatience sliced through Dorian’s every word, stabbing at Gabriel’s gut, picking apart seams he’d been trying to stitch back together for their entire lives.
Beyond the burn of the liquor, guilt spilled into his chest, hot and prickly.
He hadn’t wanted Dorian involved. The mess with Jacinda, the curse, Duchanes... Gabriel should’ve been able to handle it on his own. Between forging the new supernatural council, managing the ever-fraught Rogozin alliance, planning a fucking wedding… Dorian had enough on his plate.
Gabriel closed his eyes, the guilt simmering. No matter how many centuries passed, he never stopped feeling like the errant little brother, running himself breathless to impress the others only to realize they hadn’t even been watching him. “Dorian, I… I’m sorry. This wasn’t—”
Sunlight sliced through the darkness again, silhouetting another vampire in the doorway and cutting Gabriel short.
“I was in surgery. I came as soon as I could.” Colin rushed past the guards and into the club, bringing with him a blast of winter air. Shock filled his gaze as he took in the sight of Gabriel’s blood-soaked shirt. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
“You called Colin too?” Gabriel asked.
“We were worried,” Aiden said. “How much have you had to drink? It’s barely noon.”
Gabriel dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “For fifty years, this family existed in separate worlds without exchanging so much as a birthday greeting. Now I can’t pass a single afternoon without fending off a barrage of needless concern? You’re all bloody suffocating. I need more bourbon.”
He slid off the barstool and headed behind the bar in search of another bottle. He found it, along with the scotch Dorian favored, and filled glasses for all of them.
