or to wait and let Maurice go to the market in the morning? And what if one of Nina's creatures broke into the house while Maurice was gone and he was at rest? Who would protect Sara then?
"We'll go out," Gabriel decided. "And after you have eaten, we'll go to the gunsmith. I want you both to have some sort of defense against Nina's creatures."
"A pistol?" Sara shook her head. "I don't think I could shoot anyone."
"He's right," Maurice said grudgingly. "Nina has declared war on us, and we need to arm ourselves."
"Have you ever fired a gun, Delacroix?"
Delacroix glared at Gabriel defiantly. "No, but I can learn."
Gabriel nodded. More and more, he found himself admiring the young man. He might be nothing but a dancer, but there was nothing effeminate or cowardly about him.
An hour later, they went to supper at a small restaurant near Sara's apartment. Gabriel sat in the shadows away from the windows, his face turned away while Sara and Maurice dined on roast duckling with all the trimmings.
There was little conversation at the table.
As soon as the meal was over, they left the restaurant and went to visit the gunsmith. At first, he refused to open his shop, declaring he was closed for the night, but Gabriel flashed a gold coin, and he obligingly showed them his wares. He was whistling happily when they left, having sold three pistols in the space of ten minutes.
From the gunsmith, they went to the market where Sara bought enough food to last for several days.
It was nearing nine o'clock when they returned to Sara's apartment.
Gabriel had just removed his cloak when he sensed the intruders. He managed to fire a single shot before six hulking brutes overpowered him, dragging him inside the parlor. They drenched him from head to foot with holy water, then bound his hands and feet with thick chains. When that was done, one of the creatures placed a heavy silver cross on his chest.
Maurice, who had been rendered unconscious by a blow to the back of the head when he threw himself between one of the brutes and Sara, lay face down on the floor. The strong scent of blood rose in the air.
Sara screamed, and then fell silent as another of the brutes tied a gag over her mouth, then dropped a sack over her head. Slinging her over his shoulder, he disappeared into the darkness. The last creature lumbered across the floor and opened the drapes wide before he followed the others outside.
Gabriel writhed on the floor, helpless, while the holy water penetrated his clothing and burned through his skin. The crucifix, though no bigger than his hand, lay like a tombstone on his chest, making it hard to breathe. And all the while his skin sizzled and burned.
Wild with rage and pain, he cursed himself and Nina.
But the worst was yet to come, because all too soon he felt Sara's panic. As clearly as if he were there beside her, he saw the dark hole into which two of the beasts lowered her; heard Sara's muffled screams as they covered the deep, narrow hole in the ground with a thick layer of sod so that she was literally buried alive. He saw her struggle against the ropes that bound her hands and feet. A dirty strip of cotton cloth covered her mouth, muffling her terrified cries. The thick smell of damp earth, of fear, clogged his nostrils.
Gabriel! Gabriel, help me! Oh, please, help me.
Her cries tore at his heart, his soul.
Ignoring the agony burning through him, he tried to move, but the cross held him immobile.
Unable to free himself, he could only lie there, listening to her cries, her prayers, her silent screams. As the hours passed, hysteria threatened to engulf her, her voice grew hoarse, faint. He felt her panic when a worm crawled over her arm. And over and over again he heard her call his name, begging him to come to her, to help her.
He tried to speak to her mind, but his powers were weak, and growing weaker, and her terror shut out every other thought.
He glanced at the window. Only a few hours till dawn, he thought bleakly. And then the early morning sunlight would pour through the window, its golden rays scalding his skin, its heat incinerating his flesh.
The horror of it, the imagined agony, made him shudder.
He closed his eyes against the excruciating pain that racked him, and then, so softly that he thought