Crimson Bound (Blood Oath #7)

19. Gabriel

19

GAbrIEL

I don’t consider myself a particularly violent person.

Despite being a vampire, that has never been my nature. But the moment I knew Calla was gone, an unfamiliar sensation sparked deep in my chest. Something dark and vicious.

It threatens to replace the taste of her on my lips. Her sweet skin and rich blood. Two memories I’d never wish to part with.

A quick search of the house—the paper scattered on the floor in Atlas’s office and the obvious decoy note in the kitchen—said all we needed to know.

Calla had run.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I fumble to get it out and answer Kade’s call.

“Calla—”

“I know,” I cut in, my pulse ticking faster as I pace the length of the kitchen and living room. “She left a note that she was going to study on campus.”

“She’s not here, Gabe, and she’s not answering her phone.”

There’s a soft beep and I pull the phone from my ear to find Brighton calling. “Hang on, that’s Brighton on the other line. I’ll call you back.”

“I’m on my way home,” he says, hanging up, and I answer Brighton’s call.

“Gabriel, hey, I’m looking for Calla. Have you spoken to her today?” The concern in her voice makes me stop pacing.

“What’s going on?” I ask instead of answering her question.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I was waiting for her to come over but she never did. Now she’s not answering her phone, and I’m getting worried.”

“Can we come by?” I ask. “Text me your address.” I already have it, of course, but she doesn’t know that.

“Um, okay,” she says in a hesitant tone.

“See you shortly.”

Kade arrives a few minutes after I hang up with Brighton, and I show him the note Calla left.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, crumpling it. “I already called Atlas and Lex. They’re coming back from New York as we speak.”

I nod. “We need to go to Brighton’s apartment. Apparently she was waiting for Calla to come over, but she didn’t show.”

Kade folds his arms, his expression darkening. “Gabriel…”

“I know.” I show him the papers I found on the floor of Atlas’s office. “She knows about Atlas’s connection to Ellis Industries.”

He frowns. “You think that’s why she took off?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, but if she was running to Brighton, why didn’t she end up going there?”

“Fuck if I know, Gabe. Let’s go find out.”

We drive over to Brighton’s, and Kade stops on the sidewalk halfway from the vehicle to the building, cursing as he bends and snatches a phone off the sidewalk. “It’s hers.” He shows me the shattered screen, glancing around as if he’ll see Calla nearby before looking down at the phone lying flat in his palm. Kade’s shoulders fall, and he doesn’t speak.

“Come on.” I take the phone from him, slipping it into my back pocket. “Brighton’s waiting for us.”

With a short sigh, he nods, and we walk the rest of the way to the building. Brighton buzzes us inside, and we stand in the small living area in her apartment.

“I’m not sure what’s going on between you guys and Calla, but I’ve never seen her like this.” She swallows hard, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m really worried about her. And I didn’t know what else to do or who to call. I know she’s been spending a lot of time with you guys, showing you around the city and all, so I thought maybe you’d know something.”

Kade’s back straightens, his eyes narrowing at the human as if she’s accusing him of something.

“She’s a family friend,” I say in a level tone before Kade can snap at her or do something I’ll have to glamour from Brighton’s memories.

Brighton’s eyes flit between Kade and I, filled with uncertainty and concern. “Are you guys related or something?”

Kade exhales a humorless laugh. “No.”

“So her family is friends with all of your families?”

“Kind of,” I offer vaguely. “That’s really not what this is about.”

“What did she say to you before she was supposed to meet you?” Kade asks.

Brighton pulls out her phone, handing it over to show us the messages.

Brighton, we need to talk.

I have to tell you some crazy things that won’t make much sense, but I promise I’m telling the truth.

Please answer me. I’m freaking out over here.

Where are you? I’ll come to you.

Brighton?!?!

“I don’t understand,” Brighton says, wrapping her arms around herself as her hazel eyes shift between us again. “She was so panicked, then she just stopped responding to me and never showed up. I…I didn’t know who else to call. Calla’s family is in New York, and you guys seem to be close to her, and I…I have to admit, I’m freaking out.”

Kade and I exchange a glance so brief she likely didn’t pick up on it.

“Here’s the thing, Brighton,” Kade starts, stepping toward her and lowering his voice, weaving it with glamour. “You’re going to delete your text conversation with Calla and forget she texted you.”

Brighton’s eyes glaze over, and she nods automatically.

“Good. Now we’re going to leave, and you’ll forget this conversation as well.”

Another vacant nod.

Kade and I leave the apartment, silent until we’re back outside.

“What now?” Kade grumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets. The tension on his face gives away his concern; he’s not trying to hide it from me.

“I think we need to loop in Marcel. He’ll put his ear to the ground and find something that’ll lead us to Calla.”

Kade nods as we walk to the car and get in. “I’ll get him on the phone.”

“I’m going to see him. I have some friends in the city as well. In case we need more than Marcel on this.” I start the car and pull away from the curb as Kade stares at me from the passenger seat.

“So what, we’re going to switch places with Lex and Atlas? They’re already on their way back, Gabe.”

I shake my head. “You stay here and wait for them. I’m going to New York alone.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Noted,” I offer, shooting him a forced smile before returning my attention to the road.

It’s a whirlwind of a day, but later that evening, I’m sitting in Marcel’s townhouse in Manhattan, replaying the day’s events on a loop.

“Gabe, did you hear what I said?”

Marcel’s deep voice pulls me back to the sitting room of his living room. The narrow rooms with tall ceilings are decorated with art pieces he's collected over the years. The space is accented with dark blues and grays, glossy hardwood floors, with the smell of leather furniture and crisp citrus candles, which he seems to have burning in every room. It’s a bit overwhelming for my senses, but I do my best to ignore the dull ache it’s creating in my temples.

I blink at our informant, one of the few people we trust outside the four of us, then force a nod. “Apologies,” I mutter.

He rakes a hand through his mop of golden blond hair and sighs. “I get it, man. You’re worried about her. But it’s only been a week, and?—”

“Just tell me what you know, Marcel,” I cut him off.

He offers a curt nod, not at all thrown off by my cool tone. “First thing’s first. There have been no further developments where Dante is concerned.”

My upper lip curls at the mention of him—the vampire who believes he has some claim to what is ours because he got screwed out of a job when Calla’s ancestor agreed to our protection in exchange for her.

“The guy has gone radio silent,” Marcel continues. “I had a friend check out some of the places he’s been known to frequent, but he hasn’t been around in a while. It’s safe to say he’s not in New York.”

A muscle ticks along my jaw, and I grip the armrest tighter. “Then where the hell is he?” The words taste bitter on my tongue, like drinking stale blood.

Marcel just stares at me, his silver eyes dark, focused. We’re both thinking the same thing—the bastard went to Washington. “Let’s think about this,” he says in a level voice, drumming his fingers against his jean-clad thigh. “We know Dante. He’s into the whole pomp and circumstance. If he took Calla, don’t you think you’d know about it by now? For the sole reason that the jackass doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. He’d want to brag, to shove it in your faces that he took something from you.”

Some one —not some thing . My eyes narrow, though I don’t bother voicing the anger burning in my chest; Marcel’s intentions are not malicious. Instead, I scratch the copper stubble along my jaw to hide how tightly it’s clenched. I haven’t bothered shaving in days, and it’s starting to irritate my skin. “That doesn’t explain the break in the connection,” I point out in a gruff voice. “Unless she?—”

“No,” Marcel says over me, shaking his head. “Do you believe she’s dead, Gabriel?”

My throat constricts, and I frown at the difficulty I find when trying to swallow. “No.” I don’t believe it—I refuse to.

“Right. Then there’s another explanation we haven’t considered yet. Blood oaths are tricky things. You guys knew that when you entered into it all those years ago.” He flicks his wrist back and forth. “Witches and their spells.”

My eyes widen as a thought hits me with the speed of a train. “A spell,” I say. “Wherever Calla is could have a spell blocking our connection to her.”

Marcel purses his lips. “It’s possible.”

Not only is it possible, it’s a far better alternative than what’s got my stomach in painful knots. What has kept all of us up every night since she disappeared.

“I don’t suppose you have a witch handy?”

“Wouldn’t matter anyway, considering the only witch that could undo the block is the one who put it in place.”

I slam my fist down on the armrest. “What am I supposed to do with that?” I growl without looking in Marcel’s direction. I don’t direct the question at him because I don’t expect him to have an answer, though I really wish he did.

I scrub a hand down my face and sigh.

Why did you have to run, angel?

“I mean this with the utmost respect and only mention it out of concern for your wellbeing. You look like absolute shit. You’re not going to be able to help Calla if you end up passing out from exhaustion or snapping and getting caught chowing down on a human because you’re starving. You need to take care of yourself.” His voice is stern but laced with worry.

I manage a weak smile. “Your concern is noted and appreciated.”

“And ignored,” he remarks dryly, shaking his head before he pins me with a level stare. “I’m serious, Gabriel. I don’t know her much at all, but I can’t see her wanting you—or the others for that matter—to get to a point where you’re not giving yourself basic necessities because it could take away from potentially finding her. You’re no good to her like this, okay? So smarten up.”

My hands curl around the armrests, making the wood groan under my grip. He’s right.

“Listen, I know you want to get back to Washington, but I think you should stay tonight. Take a break from everything and refocus. I know of a place that has voluntary feeders on standby. I’ll text you the address. Go and replenish your strength.” He nods, his voice stern but kind as he says, “Take care of yourself, Gabe.”

I rise from the chair at the same moment Marcel stands, finding it in me to smile at him. “Thank you, Marcel. You know we appreciate the work you do for us, but you constantly go above and beyond to show how much you care. It doesn’t go unnoticed, I hope you know that.”

He shoots me a grin, and we walk through the main level, the aged hardwood creaking under our steps as we near the front door.

Marcel slaps me on the back as he opens the door for me. “Keep me posted. You know where I am if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” I tell him again, stepping out into the bitter afternoon air.

“Gabriel,” Marcel calls, causing me to turn back. “You’re going to find her.”

I nod, jogging down the concrete steps in front of his townhouse to the sidewalk, where the wind picks up, the cold air making my cheeks tingle.

We are going to find her.

And then whoever is behind taking her from us will live to regret the decision…until we slaughter them.