And Gabriel stayed there until he was bloodied and beaten, prostrate on the chapel floor, Jesus’s wooden face gazing down in approval of the self-flagellation.
Gabriel took rest on the floor as he waited for his brothers to return home. Closing his eyes, drenched in his own blood, Gabriel slept soundly . . . for the very first time in years.
Chapter Nine
Someone cleared their throat, pulling Gabriel from sleep. His eyes were blurred with tiredness as he blinked them open. The floor was freezing cold beneath him; his mouth was dry. Gabriel caught the sight of polished black shoes in the doorway and lifted his head. “Sir, the van approaches. I thought you’d want to know.”
Gabriel’s body went from exhaustion to exhilaration in a matter of seconds. Climbing to his feet, he ignored the sting of the lashes on his back. If Patrick saw the scourge discarded on the floor, he didn’t make it obvious. But he had to have seen the blood on Gabriel’s back. The lashes. For a split second, Gabriel wondered why the scourge was there. In the chapel. Was it his grandfather or Miller who’d used it?
Patrick politely inclined his head and left the room while Gabriel threw on his shirt. He raced up the stairs to the foyer, two at a time. He burst into the vast entrance of the manor and stood at the bottom of the grand central stairs leading to the bedrooms and the upper suites. He made himself keep still. Miller came out from his grandfather’s study and nodded at Gabriel. The plan had worked.
It had worked.
Miller held another glass of whiskey in his hand. It must have been his way of coping. Gabriel supposed Miller thought his years of aiding killers would have died along with Jack Murphy. He saw the strain of such a hard life written in the older man’s conflicted eyes. But Miller needn’t worry. Gabriel would bear the sole burden of the years ahead. These were his Fallen. His charges.
This was his cross to bear.
Gabriel heard the sound of the van doors sliding open. He counted to thirty before the doorknob turned. Gabriel held his breath. Winston was the first through the doors. The driver looked wary and a little off-kilter. Gabriel prayed that none of the brothers had tried to hurt him on the journey. He had instructed the men he had hired to put them in the locked cell of the van. As much as he loved them, Gabriel knew they would be confused at was happening. He didn’t want them to fight against their rescuers. Time for the extraction was short. It needed to have gone as smoothly as possible. Gabriel had also instructed that Diel stay in his chains. His other brothers weren’t spontaneous in their dark desires; he knew they wouldn’t kill the men who saved them. Diel was less predictable.
A familiar flash of red hair ducked through the entrance, shaking away Gabriel’s concern for Winston.
Bara.
Bara’s green eyes assessed the foyer, his face suspicious . . . until his gaze fell on Gabriel waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Bara stopped dead in his tracks. Anyone who didn’t know Bara wouldn’t have seen the flare of disbelief spark in his eyes. But Gabriel knew him well. He knew every one of these boys inside and out. And it was there, shock rendering Bara motionless.
Uriel walked through next, Sela after him. Each of them froze when they saw Gabriel waiting. Saw the manor in which they now stood. Raphael soon followed, leading Diel by the chain around his throat. Raphael’s token piece of string was wrapped around his finger. His golden eyes flitted around the entrance. Diel’s survey was next. His face seemed to relax with relief on seeing Gabriel. It looked like he exhaled a pent-up breath.
Gabriel smiled at Diel’s reaction. Then he held his breath as Michael finally came through the door. They all wore the white shirts and pants of the Fallen. Michael was no different. But around his neck hung the vial that Gabriel had given him, his shirt unbuttoned to his navel, showing the vial off. Michael stopped beside Raphael, then his eyes clashed with Gabriel’s. Michael blinked at his brother, then stared off over his head, the way he had always done. But Gabriel saw it. The flicker of relief, or maybe gratitude, that sparked momentarily in Michael’s blue gaze.
Gabriel’s gut squeezed when he realized how much he had missed his brother. Seeing him, alive and well—if not a little broken—almost brought Gabriel to his knees.
Gabriel looked at his brothers. And, like a puzzle, he felt the scattered pieces of his soul click together.
When the doors were shut and locked, Gabriel stepped forward. “Welcome home.” He smiled, happiness settling his frayed nerves. “Welcome to Eden Manor.”
“This is our reward?” Bara said, slowly smirking. “For surviving Purgatory?”