The dryads had gone as still as trees. They heard it, too, that soft sound, slowly escalating--
"Down!" Gabriel shouted.
Dozens of windows shattered in one deafening crash. Gabriel ducked, arms over his head. He heard Helia shout "No!" as she ran toward him, Alexios following her. Patrick turned on them, his face contorted in a snarl, his glamour rippling, a flash of light keeping Gabriel from seeing what lay beneath.
The light arced and Helia fell back, knocked off her feet. Then came a tremendous crack, as boards were ripped from the walls. Black smoke rushed in. Patrick saw it, his eyes rounding. Gabriel lunged at him. The smoke hit Helia and the dryad screamed, and blood sprayed, and Alexios shrieked--an inhuman shriek of rage.
The floor shattered under Gabriel's feet, and he plummeted, one hand striking jagged wood, a flash fire of pain, yet still he dropped, so fast it wasn't even like jumping from the bridge, where he'd had a moment to think, to move, to position himself. The floor gave way and he fell, and then he hit the next floor so hard that he broke right through, another flash of pain.
Falling again, hitting again. Still plummeting through darkness.
He slammed down on a pile of debris, the wind knocked out of his lungs, leaving him flat on his back, gasping and wheezing, his brain screaming at him to get up--stop this nonsense, breathe, and get the fuck up, because the sluagh was here, and he was lying on his goddamned back--
"Gabriel?"
A hand touched his shoulder, and he twisted, snarling.
The fingers fell away and the voice became Patrick's, saying, "It's me."
Gabriel had to resist the urge to snap that he didn't give a damn. He was lying on his back in the darkness, and everything hurt, and the sluagh had attacked, and why the hell hadn't he told Olivia where he was?
At this moment, hers was the only voice he wanted to hear--the only person he trusted to help him out of this. That wish lasted only a heartbeat until he realized that, no, he very much did not wish Olivia was here with the sluagh attacking.
"Where are they?" he said as he started to push up.
"Don't move," Patrick said. "Let me check you--"
"I have this." When Patrick's hand touched Gabriel's arm, he yanked himself away, saying, "I said I have this. I know enough not to leap to my feet. Just step back, and let me get up."
"You don't need to be so damned self-sufficient, Gabriel..." Patrick's voice trailed off at the end, as if he realized what had made Gabriel that self-sufficient. "I'm sorry. I--"
"If I insisted on doing everything myself, you wouldn't be here. I simply would prefer to assess my own condition. Please step back and allow me to do so. If you can manage some form of light..."
Patrick turned on his cell phone. Gabriel rose slowly. He'd landed on the debris of the floors he'd crashed through, which kept him from hitting the concrete of the basement. He was only lucky he hadn't impaled himself on the broken wood.
It hurt to rise. Hurt to breathe. But nothing prevented him from doing either, meaning he had not sustained any mobility-threatening injuries.
Patrick cursed under his breath and said, "You've sliced open your arm."
As he remembered cutting his arm, he felt it, both the throbbing pain and the dripping blood. He glanced to see a gash about three inches long. While he'd had the forethought to roll up his sleeves, it hadn't saved his shirt. He sighed softly, and twisted his arm for a better look at the damage.
"You need to bind that," Patrick said. "I'll look for a rag."
"Anything you find down here will be filthy. I'd be safer bleeding. I can bind it with my shirt, which is already ruined. I've done this before."
Which might suggest he should start carrying a roll of bandages. Or buying cheaper shirts.
He pulled the shirt off, trying not to wince. While he didn't appear to have broken anything, it felt as if he'd broken everything. When he went to rip the fabric, the tensing muscles made his arm gush fresh blood.
"Give me that." Patrick took the shirt from Gabriel, tore a strip off the bottom, and said, "Now your arm," and seemed surprised when Gabriel complied. "There. Looks like you've got a few other scrapes, and you'll probably have--" He swore as he circled Gabriel, shining the light on him. "You've scratched up your back, too. They're shallow, though. They look more like...Um, unless the floor also nipped your collarbone, I'm guessing that's preexisting damage. Please tell me it was Liv."
"As opposed to...?"
"Anyone else."
Gabriel gave him a look.
Patrick raised his hands. "Hey, I write romances. I know that old saw. Try to get a woman's attention by messing around with someone else, making her jealous and proving that other women find you irresistible."