20

I t rained the entire walk back to Gabriel's house.

Miles had never been so grateful to leave a place in his life, the fresh, outside air the sweetest thing he'd ever breathed. Even Gabriel got better once they stepped off the porch, a small amount of color coming back and his legs steadying enough that he could walk by himself. Neither of them spoke.

Miles took the grimoire with them, despite how badly he wanted to leave it. Gabriel was right—it could have answers in it, and it felt wrong not to leave with something .

By the time they made it back to the house, Miles was soaked through and covered in goosebumps, his teeth chattering hard enough to rattle his skull. Gabriel looked like a cat that had been tossed into a pool, soggy and disgruntled. His hair was plastered to his forehead and dripping onto his nose, wet shoes squelching as he led Miles through the front door.

Despite the relentless pouring rain, the grimoire didn't even get damp. Miles hated it even more.

Between blinks, he kept seeing the darkness spreading across Gabriel's skin, the hollow pits of that creature's eyes, the grasping shadows reaching out of the walls.

He shivered violently.

"I don't want to get the floor muddy," he said when Gabriel gestured for him to come down the hall. The rug he was standing on probably cost more than Blanche, but Gabriel had walked all over it first, so…

"The maid will clean up. Come on, there will be a fire going in the library."

That didn't make Miles feel any better, but if he offered to grab a mop himself, Gabriel would laugh in his face.

Miles followed him through the lower level of the house, trying his best to minimize his mud splatter as they passed door after identical door. This place was a maze. The walls were lined with paintings—dreary landscapes and portraits of morose people in gaudy outfits—and more mirrors than Miles had ever seen in his life. The windows they passed had their heavy velvet curtains open to let weak, watery daylight stream in. It was as claustrophobic as the tunnel they'd been in.

The door Gabriel led them to was already open. Miles had seen personal libraries before in a few of the houses he'd visited while tagging along with his dad, but his jaw still dropped.

It was massive—two open stories with shelf after shelf of books, broken up by large windows overlooking the estate grounds. Wooden ladders on wheels were propped against the shelves, silver tracks guiding them around the room and to the balconies above, where secluded reading alcoves were tucked away. Sturdy wooden tables and leather chairs clustered together by the windows on the far wall, giving the feeling of a prestigious university rather than a family library.

Across the room, roaring flames crackled and popped in a white marble fireplace. It was surrounded by a loose circle of plush armchairs and a velvet loveseat that Miles was way too tempted to throw himself down on as they approached. Gabriel peeled off his sodden peacoat and dropped it to the floor with a comical splat . His scarf followed, more of a drenched rag at this point. He was left in his white T-shirt, his button-up forgotten outside the dilapidated house, the only proof they'd been there. Almost as wet as his coat, it clung to him like a second skin. The muscles of Gabriel's shoulders shifted as he reached up and ruffled his wet hair, startlingly loose-limbed and casual from exhaustion.

Miles swallowed. The fire was giving off way more heat than he'd been expecting.

He set the grimoire down on a nearby side-table, grateful to not be touching it anymore, then followed suit and took off his soaked hoodie, draping it over the back of a chair and turning it so it was nearer to the fire. Joining Gabriel, he held his hands out, biting back a groan of relief as his fingers thawed. What he really needed was a hot shower and a change of clothes, but this would suffice.

"What happened back there?" Miles asked finally, his voice hushed. It felt wrong to talk at a normal volume here.

"I'm not entirely sure."

"We nearly died. Again ." Miles peeked over. "What happened to you?"

Gabriel was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I don't know if I can explain it. That creature was on you, and I could feel its… energy. A spark." Gabriel held up his hand, staring at his palm. "I reached out to grab it."

Miles recalled his clenched fists, knuckles glowing white and the stark line of his tense jaw. The way the monster had evaporated, its howl lingering in the tunnel after its demise.

"You killed it."

"I released it," Gabriel corrected. "Extinguished the spark."

"What was it? A spirit?"

"If it was, it wasn't a kind I've ever seen before. I think it was protecting the tunnel."

So, they had a murderous ghost, her murderous ghost-sister, non-ghost monsters made of smoke, and tunnel shadows trying to eat Gabriel.

Miles's gaze flitted to the grimoire. And a sentient book of evil spells with maximum brainwashing skills.

They were so unbelievably screwed.

"What happened to you after?"

He heard Gabriel's throat click. "I think… when I reached out into the darkness to stop that creature, something reached back into me."

A chill settled over Miles. "We made a big mistake, going there," he said.

Neither of them mentioned what Miles had done to save Gabriel. He wasn't even sure Gabriel knew.

"If I can find a way to reverse the curse, it will be worth it."

"What's our next step, then?"

Gabriel considered for a second. His hair was starting to curl at the front where it was drying. "We have the grimoire, but that might take time for me to go through. If I could speak to Florence, I could get answers sooner."

Miles didn't like that idea any more the second time.

"We also didn't find Jocelyn's body," Gabriel continued with a frown. "I know you said it's not necessary, but—"

"It's not. And I'm not going back inside that house. We can do the ritual and either hope her body is close by or that I do a good enough job it doesn't matter."

"Tonight, then?"

"No way." Every molecule of Miles's body was aching—even his brain was sore. "I need sleep. You know sleep, right?" Now that Miles thought about it, Gabriel being a vampire would explain a lot.

Gabriel seemed relieved. They both needed serious rest and recovery time.

Miles basked in the warmth of the fire and the pins-and-needles sensation as feeling returned to his frozen limbs. "Is there always a fire going in here?" He'd read that back in medieval times, the servants would wake up early and go around from room to room, lighting all the fires. He wouldn't be surprised if Felicity did that just because she could.

"This is Bram's favorite room in the house. He's in here often enough that it's always ready for him to visit."

Miles could picture it perfectly: Bram curled up next to the fire with his cat on his lap, reading a book that was undoubtedly too serious for a ten-year-old.

He understood the appeal. He'd never been anywhere with a fireplace this excessive, but the heat and the gentle sounds of wood crackling were already making his body feel heavy. It was cozy, a word he never considered he'd use to describe any part of the Hawthorne estate.

"What's it like, living here?" Miles asked. The question had been gnawing away at him for days.

Gabriel hesitated. "It's… home. The only place I've ever lived." He watched the flames. "It's also cold sometimes, empty. Hollow. I have all this space, but nothing to fill it with." His eyes flicked over to Miles, there and gone. "Sometimes, I feel like a ghost living here. Invisible. Intangible."

Miles didn't know what to say. Gabriel was rarely so honest, so unguarded with him.

They were standing side by side, so close that they were nearly touching.

"I see you," he breathed. Miles had seen him in many forms—arrogant Hawthorne heir, snarky asshole, frightened boy, caring brother, brave friend… Miles barely had to move his hand, a minuscule twitch and it grazed against Gabriel's, whisper-soft. "I feel you. I know you're real."

For the first time, he hoped Gabriel was hearing his thoughts, all the things he couldn't put into words.

Gabriel didn't say anything. They were both staring straight ahead at the fire, but a second later—a second when Miles was internally cursing himself for being so stupid, his bravery vanishing as quickly as it had appeared—Gabriel's fingertips met his own, and slowly, deliberately wove them together.

Miles didn't dare look over at him. Only the very tips of their fingers were interlocked but… Gabriel Hawthorne was holding his hand.

It was weird to be hyper-aware of a single part of a person, one point of minuscule contact, to have every single inch of his body and brain wide awake and focused on it, the new center of his universe. It left him helpless, tongue-tied and rattled to his core. He didn't know if he was going to laugh or faint. Maybe both.

"Had another adventure today, did we?"

Miles nearly jumped right out of his skin and into the fire.

Even Gabriel startled, leveling an acidic glare at where his older brother lingered in the doorway. He hastily tucked his hands in his pockets. "Nice of you to announce yourself."

Edmund sauntered over, sliding onto the loveseat and kicking his feet up, black leather shoes on the plush green velvet. His ever-present gloves were especially out of place against the bare skin of his arms, sleeves pushed to his elbows. "Why would I need to announce myself in my own house? Unless, of course, you two are misbehaving."

Miles's cheeks flamed. He was caught between two brothers he couldn't muster up the courage to look at.

Gabriel ignored the insinuation. "How did you know we were here?"

"I followed the trail of filthy footprints. Bram told me you left hours ago on a quest to explore the property." Edmund's voice was nonchalant, but his gaze betrayed his interest, eager and alert. "Did you find anything exciting?"

Miles had no idea how much Gabriel told his brother about what they were doing. He was careful not to even glance at where the grimoire sat.

"A lake," Gabriel replied sarcastically. "Did you know we have one of those?"

Edmund threw his hands up. "Fine, you can tell me to mind my own business." He squinted up at Miles. "You know, I hoped having a friend might put you in a better mood."

"I assumed the attitude ran in the family," Miles muttered.

Edmund let out a heartfelt laugh. "Nope, that's the Gabriel special." He gave his brother a sly look. "And here I was hoping the Thistle High experience would include a class on improving your social skills."

Miles held back a snort. "If there was, he'd just skip it."

"Is that so?" Edmund smirked at his brother. "Skipping class? After all the trouble you went through to enroll there?"

"Was it hard to get in?" Miles didn't know anything about starting a new school or the hoops the system made you jump through.

Gabriel glowered at Edmund. "Not at all."

"Oh, don't be modest. You lied so convincingly to Mother. It was a brilliant performance."

Miles was beyond lost. "What's he talking about?"

"Edmund's making it sound much more dramatic than it was." Gabriel's scowl deepened. "After I found out who you were, I knew we needed to speak again, so I told my mother a few… partial truths. That I wanted to follow a hunch about the Warrens based on rumors I'd heard at the party, but to do so, I needed access to Thistle High School."

"And she bought that?"

"Our mother is delightfully paranoid." Edmund trailed his gloved hand across the top of the loveseat, smirking as he spoke. "She immediately assumed your family was planning some nefarious plot against us, and practically shoved Gabriel into the school so he could find out." He lowered his voice to a mock-whisper. "He heavily implied you were the weak link."

"Only because I knew she was infuriated with you after your altercation at the party," Gabriel said hotly, as if he hadn't called Miles worse things a dozen times before. "It was a calculated move to play on her emotions so she wouldn't question my motives deeper."

It made sense. It was also so very Gabriel.

"Ignore him," Gabriel told Miles, twin crimson spots high on his cheekbones. "He's trying to embarrass me, and cause drama between us because he's bored."

Edmund didn't even try to deny it. He sighed, his head lolling back against the armrest of the loveseat. "It's true. Your little adventure with Gabriel is the most exciting thing that's happened here in… forever. But my brother insists on keeping me ignorant, so even that's getting stale. At least riling him up is guaranteed entertainment. And oh-so easy."

Miles wouldn't admit it, but he could see where Edmund was coming from—ruffling Gabriel's feathers was always satisfying.

"I'm glad to be such a source of amusement for you."

"The joy of having siblings," Miles joked, trying to play the peacemaker. "My sisters live for making each other mad. It's a competition to them."

Edmund nodded. "Believe it or not, Gabriel used to be the most competitive kid you'd ever meet. The stories I could tell you about growing up with him. This one time—"

"You'll have to save your undoubtedly mortifying story for another time," Gabriel interrupted. "Miles has to go."

He did?

Gabriel gave him a pointed look.

Okay, apparently, he was leaving.

"Yeah, I'd better be heading home. I need to put on some dry clothes." He turned his back to Edmund, picking up the grimoire and slinging his still-damp hoodie over it to try and hide it. There was no way he was leaving it here with Gabriel. "Well, I guess I'll…" He pointed towards the door, feeling like a doofus.

Edmund jumped to his feet. "Let me show you out."

Miles expected Gabriel to protest, offer to walk him instead, but he turned back towards the fire.

"See you tomorrow, I guess?"

Back at school. This had been the longest weekend ever.

Gabriel nodded, a confirmation and a dismissal. Miles tried not to let it sting. After everything that had happened today, he thought he'd at least get a goodbye.

He followed Edmund out of the cozy warmth of the library and back into the shadow-laden hallway.

"Don't worry about him—Gabriel's always been moody," Edmund said conversationally. "He's been that way for as long as I can remember. Serious, quiet, happy to keep to himself… Well, until you came along, at least."

Miles wasn't sure what he was trying to imply. "He doesn't really have much of a choice. We were kinda… forced to work together."

Edmund stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning to face Miles directly. "No one forces Gabriel to do anything," he said, the gleam of amusement abruptly absent. "He likes you. And because of that, I'm going to give you a warning—whatever it is you two are doing, let it go. Something's going on. Mother is worse than usual and the whole house is on edge. It's not a coincidence you're here at the same time. I have a bad feeling."

Under other circumstances, Miles would appreciate the warning. But Edmund didn't know what he was talking about—that his brother's life was at stake.

"You don't have to worry, I have no intention of letting Gabriel get hurt," Miles told him. For a moment, all he could see was the lifeless sheen over Gabriel's eyes, the blood spreading from beneath his head, so pale and—"I'm trying to make sure that doesn't happen."

Edmund frowned. "You're a good guy, Miles. But I think you're out of your depth here. Just… be careful."