MILCK - Devil Devil

In my weeks at the Vault, I had never seen Abby's door closed, unless I was already inside. He said it let him eavesdrop more easily on his charges, but in reality he was just too friendly to turn someone away, even when he was busy. That should have been the first sign that something was off. His door was shut. A sick feeling began to crawl over my skin as I got closer, like a warning, but not from my Shift, something else entirely. I took a deep breath before raising my fist to knock.

"Come in."

His familiar voice called to me before my hand ever touched the thick, carved oak of his door. Abby's office was connected to his quarters, along with an attached library where he claimed to spend ninety percent of his time when he wasn't 'out causing trouble'. The door to his library was slightly ajar as I entered, filling the room with the scent of ancient books and brittle paper. But Abby was sitting behind his desk which I had always thought was a bit monstrous, with enough drawers and files to easily house a whole other library in addition to his traditional one.

His hands were steepled before him and my sick feeling grew when I saw the lines on his face, the set of his jaw, the barely veiled worry in his pale, watery blue eyes.

"How are you feeling today? How is your headache?"

His calm voice gave nothing away.

"Fine, why?"

I'd like to believe my voice sounded just as calm, but I could hear the distrust in it.

"Just making polite chit-chat, no need to be suspicious, child."

At first I'd hated it when he called me child, like I wasn't mature enough, or self-sufficient enough to be seen as an equal, but soon I saw it as a term of endearment from the old man. I wasn't sure of his age, but I assumed his lifespan gave him the privilege of calling anyone younger than him 'child'. I also assumed everyone was younger than him, so his nickname no longer needled me.

"Who else is here?"

My voice came out strange again, strangled, though I couldn't tell why. I didn't have any reason to feel as breathless as I did, to feel my chest tightening with each beat my heart sent through me. I couldn't feel anyone else in Abby's rooms, couldn't sense another mind, but still I knew.

"How is your mood today?"

Then it all came together, clicking into place like perfectly oiled gears. A nightmare come to me even as I was awake. I met Abby's eyes with disbelief. There was no way this was happening, not now. It was too soon, I wasn't ready. I didn't want this now, or ever. How could he do this to me, without a warning, without even discussing it with me first? I wasn't ready, I knew that much, maybe I never would be, but I certainly wasn't now.

I shook my head slowly, numbly, as I backed away toward the door, my feet hardly listening to my command. I wanted to turn and run, but they would only slowly shuffle backwards, as if through deep water and thick mud. As if I really was in a nightmare. My mind felt slow, from shock or dread I wasn't sure. Everything was just so slow. The entire world dragged more and more, heavier and heavier, until it felt like a crawl.

I saw Abby's fingers twitch, just the pointer and middle of his left hand, toward the open door behind me and it swung shut with a muted click. That's when my skin started to prickle, a foreign feeling I wished wasn't so hauntingly familiar.

"I told you from your first moments here this day would come. Think of all I've spoken with you about, my dear. Think of reason, think of his reasons, think of what you've learned. Anger and hurt are not the same."

He seemed to notice his words were making little difference and his eyes took on their sad, signature look I knew so well.

"If you can't forgive, then at least remember he is vital to us, we need him just as much as we need you. This war cannot be won alone, you will need to put your past aside, at least as partners, you will need to trust each other. This world needs you both, the gifts you possess are not yours alone. You have a great responsibility. Remember who your real enemy is, who you should truly direct your hatred towards."

The cement around my legs lessened just as the library door sighed behind me, opening. I turned but I already knew who would be there. I already felt an inkling of heat running over my skin, no current, no electricity, but something else, like the slightest of wind, warmed just enough for me to be able to notice the difference from the air around me.

I turned and there he stood, dark eyes, dark hair, beautiful in the most devastating of ways. I recognized him right away as the Fallen from the city. Abby had been right.

It scared me how little he had changed, his hair was longer and black, his frame much smaller, thin, like he hadn't eaten since I last saw him, hadn't trained. His eyes were different, lacking something they had always held before, lacking anything really, and yet he was the same. Despite the drastic change of his build, he was the same, as if there was some him-ness that would never leave, no matter how he looked, no matter how he abused his body. Even his cheeks were gaunt, his height looking strange now instead of fitting him. He looked weak, but I knew he wasn't.

He stood straight, still, with his shoulders squared and his head held a little too high, his feet wide apart, his arms down at his sides casually. His eyes were on mine, but there was no emotion there, no question, no apology, no explanation, just a dead, shark stare that stole the beauty from the deep navy centers. He looked cold, empty, like the man was gone, just the body and power left, like a doll, a shell. It was sad in a way I didn't understand, making my heartbeats drag into one another. I didn't understand how he could look the same, yet so different. I didn't want to understand. He was just a casing, devoid of any spark of what he used to be. I had thought I was a shell when I arrived at the Vault, but I had been nothing like the ruins standing before me.

The silence in the room dragged on and my mind couldn't seem to decide if it was angry, disappointed, or something else entirely. Some part of me couldn't seem to remember why I was supposed to hate the thing in front of me, some part of me just felt sorry for it. But I couldn't allow that, so I pulled all the anger I could find, all the emotions I had bottled, all the blame I had on myself for the things that had happened, and pushed it on him. I had to, he had been the object of my hatred for so long, the enemy in my mind for so long. I couldn't give that up now when I was finally faced with him. Some part of me knew I should, but I couldn't. I hated him. I knew I should, even if he seemed different, broken.

"Hi, angel,"

His voice was just as dead as his eyes. It sent a shiver up my spine. It was hardly even him anymore. That was the reason I felt sick, that was the reason he seemed different. He was dead, and as much as I wanted to hate him, I was sad he was empty, sad he wasn't the same man anymore. How could I hate a man who no longer existed? Had he taken that from me too? The possibility of revenge, of making him feel the pain I did, the pain I still carried with me every day?

Everything about him said it didn't matter if I hated him, if I showed it or not, because he was already gone and I couldn't get any satisfaction out of hurting someone who could no longer feel. But I had waited so long, I wouldn't give up so easily. He was in there, and I wouldn't have peace until I pulled him out, and then hurt him like he had done to me.

"Hello, Gabriel,"

My voice came out softer than I would have liked, but it didn't matter, my words got the desired effect even if the volume hadn't been there. His eyes widened at me, his eyebrows twitching up and together, his jaw setting for a moment, but then it was gone and he looked away, death settling back in his eyes, in the lines of his face.

We stood in tense silence, James staring at the edge of Abby's desk, no longer looking at me, Abby's light blue eyes flicking between me and my Pair, and my eyes glued to him, watching him, trying to judge if this was all an act. I so wanted it to be. If he had to be here with me, if we had to be partners, the least he could do was come here swinging, give me the fight I deserved, the one I had been fantasizing of for weeks, dreaming of. But instead he had stolen that from me too, coming to me broken and dead. That was unacceptable, that wasn't how this was supposed to work. I wouldn't finally have my chance to show him all he had done, to take all my rage out on him, and have him just stand there like the mannequin Abby had tricked me with back at the manor.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

Two strides and I was standing in front of my dear, long lost Pair. My eyes burning into his, even as his still tried to look past me. I saw his jaw tense, the little muscle there standing out, even more pronounced now that he was slimmer. His eyes pulled to mine and being so close actually hurt, physically hurt. I could smell the smoke and pine scent that always clung to him. I could feel the power in the air, making the hairs on my arms stand, and then I felt the weight of his eyes, almost like before, almost like they had always felt, drawing me in, trapping me, suffocating me.

I pulled my arm back even as I heard Abby's voice call for me to stop, but it was too late. My fist made solid contact with the side of James' jaw, snapping his head to the side and making him take a small step back to steady himself. The memory of the last time I had hit him like that appeared in my mind, of me standing in the manor's kitchen after feeling his anger at me, his disappointment. After my Gift had broken through his mind and I finally saw what he really thought of me.

I had hit him then when he tried to stop me from leaving, when he had grabbed my arm. I could still remember the promise of violence in his eyes as he turned his face back to mine, a thin line of blood at the corner of his mouth. I could still remember his words, laced with his special breed of threat.

That was a mistake, angel.

I remember knowing he was going to kill me, and then I ran. I hoped he would have that same anger in his eyes now, just so I could see something of the old him, something real and alive. Instead, when he turned his face back to me his eyes were just as dead as they had been before, just as empty, his features just as cold. He wiped at his mouth with a loose fist and it came away red, but I hardly noticed. He took a slow breath before looking past me again, just over my shoulder, as if I wasn't even there. How easily he disregarded me.

"I won't kill you, because they need you, but that's the only reason."

My words were barely more than a whisper, just a hiss of hate and anger, as if my actions had opened the floodgate of emotions I had for him, the ones I had been searching for but couldn't find just seconds earlier. The man who betrayed me wasn't alive anymore and I hated that even more than I had hated him.

» ✦ «

I'd lived for months without emotions, mostly at least, save for the anger which drove me. Months of having my Shift be my armor, my shield against any tremble of humanity in me. Now it felt like physical pain to have to keep it inside, to not let my Shift cover me, protect me. It was enough to drive me mad, standing before Jordan, seeing how she looked at me, being able to feel the hate pouring from her and knowing she had an absolute right to feel as she did. Being able to feel the emotions I had kept stifled with my darkened eyes and pointed teeth, drowning in them.

And then there she was, standing behind Jordan, hovering there, watching me. As if this meeting wasn't horrendous enough, wasn't torturous enough, she had to be there to remind me I was losing the battle with my mind as well as my nature. I wanted to scream, I wanted to pull my Shift and keep it over me until the day I died. I wanted Jordan to not be staring at me like she was, like I was Gabriel. I wanted Ambriel to not be staring at me like she was, like I had murdered her out of cold blood. I wanted to show how I felt, but it was better like this, showing nothing. It was safer this way.

Even ignoring my emotions, even ignoring the situation and the ghost of my guilt forever following me, it was still the worst kind of torture to see Jordan, to be near her. It physically hurt, my body and mind ached just at her presence, just feeling her gaze on me. I had told myself I wanted nothing but confirmation that she was here, that she wasn't in danger in some unknown city tailing Kael and Nevaeh, but I knew that was a lie. I had no plan. I had no other options. As much as I hated it, and still tried to deny it, Abraham had been right, just like always. I was supposed to be here, with her.

Part of me wanted to never let her out of my sight again, never let anyone hurt her again. But that was impossible and I knew it, just being around her hurt her, I could see it in the way her eyes narrowed when she looked at me, the hate there, covering the pain. I could see it in the way she held herself, ready for a fight, waiting for another blow, another tragedy. I had promised to never betray her and I had lied. I had wanted to protect her, to shield her from all the horrible things that had happened to me, but looking at her now made it clear; the worst pain she had ever felt had come from me. My only savior was my practice, my time, my control over my own emotions and what I showed others, my mask. All I had to do was be her Pair, her partner. All I had to do was pretend for a few months, maybe a year, but soon my father would be dead and I would follow and then she could be free.

Abraham had said she was doing well, adapting well. She would do the same once I was gone for good. That was the only protection I could offer her, the only gift I could give to her would be my death. My only purpose now was to kill my father, to end his and my life so she could live hers. I didn't want to curse anyone else, to poison any others I cared about. I could try to convince her I wasn't all gone yet, but what good would that do? Make my death painful for her? Make her have to war with herself to try and forgive me? A forgiveness I knew I didn't deserve. None of that would help, it would all just hurt her more.

I could feel our tattered connection calling to me, and I wondered if she could too. I could feel the burning, the current from her reaching out to me and it felt so good I wished it wasn't the reminder it was. I wished I could enjoy the feeling like I used to, but all it was now was a memento of what we should be, a reminder of what we had been given and I had destroyed. She wasn't using her Gift, something I was incredibly grateful for, but it didn't matter, I still felt her, every aspect of her, of our Pairing, and it hurt more than I thought should be possible. Pain wasn't something I was a stranger to, but this was unbearable. This was a fire I couldn't control.

Ambriel moved around the room with Jordan, standing behind her usually, sometimes by her side. It made it difficult to look at my Pair when I saw a phantom right there with her. It was almost as if Ambriel was trying to parallel herself with Jordan, almost like she was saying I'd do the same to my partner as I had to her, that their fates would be the same. I fought down the scowl I wanted to direct at her.

Instead of looking at Jordan, seeing her gray eyes and the hurt there, the anger there, instead of having to see the specter staying ever close to her, I avoided her eyes, her face, trying to lessen the torture I was feeling in any small way I could. Coming to the Vault had been a terrible choice, but it was the only one I had and I hated that. The only way I would survive this was to keep my emotions stifled. If Jordan thought I was changed, empty, then this could work, we could get through our purpose, this war, and then be done. We could work as professionals, as killers. I had planned it out perfectly, all I had to do was keep it up. I could do that, I had been for weeks against Ambriel. It was second nature now.

It stung when she called me Gabriel, like she didn't know me, like I was what my father wanted me to be, not the man she had known for months, really known, but that didn't matter. And maybe it would be better for her to think of me as him, as Gabriel. Maybe that would help our work together, help her be able to come to terms with having to be my partner again, my Pair. Maybe hating James and working with Gabriel was easier for her, separating them in her mind.

I saw the blow coming before she even cocked her arm back, saw her intentions, saw the desire to make me hurt clear on her face, but I didn't block it, didn't step back. The least she deserved was to get a hit in, though I knew Abraham would disagree. He had never liked retributive violence. He didn't believe people deserved to be hurt, even when they had done the things I had. Training would be interesting, since I'm sure he would want us to practice our skills as much as possible, and since no one else at the complex would be able to measure up, I imagined she would be my main training partner. I looked forward to it despite myself.

Her next words to me were a lie, that much I knew, and I felt relief in a sick, self-serving way. She didn't want me dead. I should have hated to know that, to hear the deceit in her words. I should want her to want me dead, since that would ultimately come to pass. But I still felt a small seed of joy blossom in my chest when she said those words, when they were so clearly untrue. She wouldn't kill me, she didn't want to. I hated how much I loved that fact. I hated the hope it brought, as if maybe there was still a chance for reconciliation. As if maybe all wasn't destroyed. But those thoughts would get me nowhere, neither of us. Better to get the job done. Better to stick to the plan. Better for me to believe she wanted me dead. I wished she was a better liar.

Ambriel was sitting in an overstuffed chair in Abraham's office when she hit me, watching the silence settle over the room once more. Sometimes it was difficult to not look at her, to not make it obvious to the others in the room that I was looking at something that wasn't really there, at least not to them. But I was getting better at it, better at ignoring the woman who followed me like a shadow. My eyes flicked to her when she would make a sudden movement, old habit of constantly being on guard I supposed, but I could usually pull my eyes away before anyone noticed.

I waited in the silence, looking about the room, at the various bobbles and books and trinkets Abraham kept on display, to avoid the faces, but I could feel the eyes on me, three sets of them, all looking for different reasons, but none of them ones I wanted to meet.

» ✦ «

The awkward silence slid on, Gabriel pretending to look at the variety of items in Abby's office, his eyes occasionally flicking to one corner of the room near the door like a tick, as if he was deciding if he should bolt for it or not. Abby's stare kept moving between myself and his old pupil, while my own consisted of trying to force my eyes to look anywhere but at Gabriel, and failing miserably. He was like gravity to me, his presence enough to draw my attention even when I tried to deny it.