kiss in the hallway at school, this kiss carries so much weight and hope and promise. He dances music on my tongue, and for the first time in a long time, I see the stars flicker to life in his eyes again.
“I love you. I thought of nothing else but you,” he whispers. “You were the light that glinted in the darkness.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” I say, even though his words make my heart race. “You were in jail for three nights. It’s not as if you did twenty-to-life in Sing Sing.”
A shudder rolls through his body. “It felt like three decades. It was the most horrible place. You wouldn’t believe the muck they try to feed you, and the toilet facilities…” he shudders. “No room service. No hot towels or Egyptian cotton sheets. No massage therapist for the crick in my neck I got sleeping on the concrete slab they call a bed! There wasn’t even a mirror. And then they wanted to take my photograph. I told them not until they got me a stylist because my hair was a fright.”
I laugh. He’s ridiculous. I need that now – I need someone to light up the world with their smile. I kiss Gabriel again, taking my time about it, committing every piece of him to memory. Then I slide onto the sofa beside him. “You’re out now, and your name is clear. That’s something to celebrate.”
“I know. I know we have more important things to worry about, but I can’t stop thinking about what they said,” he frowns. “Dylan was murdered. Apparently, he didn’t overdose as they initially believed. Someone sedated him so he couldn’t fight back, then injected him with grey death.”
“Grey death? I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s a cocktail of heroin, fentanyl, and pink, and it’s so potent you can die just from touching it.” Gabriel shivers. “They told me it’s an excruciating death – he’d have struggled to breathe, his skin would have gone all clammy, and then his heart failed. I can’t believe someone would do that to him.”
“What about Dylan’s note?” Dylan had written such horrible things about Gabriel. That note seemed designed to make Gabriel hate himself.
“The note’s in Dylan’s handwriting, but who knows? The police think the note shows the murderer wanted to get to me. Maybe the killer forced Dylan to write it. Or maybe they’re good at forging.” Gabriel smiles ruefully. “Or maybe Dylan planned to kill himself anyway, and he got someone else to help him make it look like a murder.”
“That sounds more like the plot from a thriller novel than real life,” I roll my eyes. “But then again, I’m the mafia queen doppelgänger of a rich Valley girl trying using a fake life to take possession of a mansion, so what do I know? And I’m guessing you haven’t heard anything more from your parents. Are you going to go back?”
“Because the Duke of Blackwich commands me? Bloody hell, no.” But Gabriel looks a little sick.
“But…” I prod.
“But… this is the first time he’s contacted me since they disowned me. It can’t be for any good reason. I don’t like to think about what he’ll do if I disobey.”
“What if I came with you?”
“I don’t know.” Gabriel knits his fingers in mine. “My parents are vicious. I’d be throwing you to the lions.”
“I’ve got claws of my own. I’ll be fine.” I pat his leg. “We’ll go together, okay? After things calm down here and I know Eli is safe, you can whisk me away to your castle. And maybe introduce me to that English ale. I’m dying to know what all the fuss is about.”
Gabriel and I spend all evening and night in his room getting reacquainted. Around 2AM he collapses, his body spent, his arms wrapped around me as he snores adorably in my ear. I stare at the wall, unable to sleep, my mind buzzing with everything that’s going on.
The walls of the room bend in toward me, and the darkness swirls and twists and becomes the dark of nightmares – the dark of a silk-lined coffin and stifling air and rising panic clawing at my throat. I fight against the memory, but it’s too much, and I know I won’t be going to sleep any time soon. I slip out from beneath Gabriel. Queen Boudica is curled at the foot of the bed, pressed up hard against him, sapping his body warmth for her contentment as a true queen should.
I pull