Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,28

his hand, Julia almost cried out at the loss.

He placed his bottle down on the porch and stood up quickly. “The sun is setting. Would you like to go for a walk?”

She bit her lip. She knew she shouldn’t. But this was Gabriel from the photograph and possibly her one and only chance to see him and spend time in his presence. After what had happened earlier, she doubted he’d be coming home again. At least, not for a long, long time.

She placed the blanket to one side and stood up.

“Bring the blanket,” he said, and when she’d scooped it up under her arm, he took her smaller hand in his.

She gasped. A tingling sensation began at the tips of her fingers and traveled slowly through her arm until it reached her shoulder and skated to her heart, causing it to beat much faster.

He brought his head closer to hers. “Have you ever held a boy’s hand before?” She shook her head, and he laughed softly. “Then I’m glad I’m your first.”

They walked slowly into the woods, quickly disappearing from view of the Clarks’ house. Julia liked the way her hand fit in his and the way his long fingers curved across the back of hers. He held her gently but securely, squeezing her from time to time, perhaps to reassure her of his presence. Julia began to think that this was the way holding hands with someone was supposed to feel. Not that she had any experience.

She’d only ventured into these woods a time or two before and always with Rachel. She knew that if something went wrong, she’d most likely get lost trying to find her way home. She pushed such thoughts to the back of her mind and focused her attention entirely on what it felt like to hold the enigmatic Gabriel’s warm, strong hand.

“I used to spend a lot of time here. It’s very peaceful. Up ahead there’s an old apple orchard. Has Rachel shown it to you?”

Julia shook her head.

Gabriel gazed down at her with what looked like a serious expression. “You’re awfully quiet. You can talk to me. I promise I won’t bite.” He flashed her one of his winning smiles, one Julia recognized from Rachel’s photographs.

“Why did you come home?”

He ignored Julia’s question and kept walking, but she noticed that he began to grip her hand more tightly. She tightened her grip on his as well to signal to him that she was not afraid. Even though she was.

“I didn’t want to come home, not like this. I lost something, and I’ve been drunk for weeks.”

Gabriel’s honesty surprised her.

“But if you lost something, maybe you can try to find it.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What I lost is lost forever.”

He began walking more quickly, and Julia had to hasten her strides just to keep up with him.

“I came home for money. That’s how desperate and absolutely fucked I am.” Gabriel’s voice softened, and Julia felt him shudder. “I was fucked up even before I destroyed everything and everyone. Before you ever arrived.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged and began to drag her to the left. “We’re almost there.”

Through an opening in the trees they entered a small clearing that was carpeted in thick grass. Wildflowers and weeds and old rotting stumps littered the expanse of green. The air was quiet and vibrated with peace. And at the edge of the open area stood several aged apple trees, weary-looking and worn.

“This is it.” He gestured widely. “This is Paradise.”

He pulled Julia to a large rock that stood inexplicably at the edge of the clearing and lifted her by her waist so that she was perched on top of it. Then he climbed to her side. Julia shivered. The rock was cold in the shade of the setting sun and was already sending chills through her thin jeans.

Gabriel shrugged out of his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. “You’ll catch pneumonia and die,” he said absently, placing an arm around her and drawing her close to his side. His body heat radiated from his bare arms and his T-shirt, warming her immediately.

She inhaled deeply and sighed with contentment, marveling at how well she fit under the crook of his arm. As if she’d been made for him.

“You’re Beatrice.”

“Beatrice?”

“Dante’s Beatrice.”

Julia flushed. “I don’t know who that is.”

Gabriel chuckled to himself, his breath warm against her face as he nuzzled her ear with his nose. “Didn’t they tell you? Didn’t they tell you the prodigal son is writing his