“Why? I thought you wanted this sonofabitch dead?” Abaddon asked in the end, his voice a raspy drawl.
Gabriel hugged himself as cold wind hit his side in the shadow of trees “I do, but if he’s gone, if the others are gone… you will leave me as well. I’m not ready to be on my own!”
Something in the atmosphere shifted. Abaddon’s arms locked around him within the blink of an eye, but instead of soothing his fears, the tender gesture only aggravated his need to keep Abaddon at all cost. So he cried, drying his tears on the fragrant chest.
“Gabriel… why couldn’t you just say all this?”
He curled his arms, trying to disappear into his angel. “Because I don’t want you to see me as this pathetic worm. And maybe because I know you’d just tell me that you have to fulfill your purpose and everything else is secondary.”
Abaddon’s chest sank, but Gabriel pressed closer, taking in every heartbeat knocking right by his ear. He wanted this moment to last forever.
“Because it is. What would you have me do? Let them murder another group of children?”
“No!” Gabriel exclaimed, rubbing his eyes and looking up into the beautifully symmetrical features of his lover. He reached to cup Abaddon’s cheeks. “No, we could work out a way to report them, deliver evidence to the police, put them behind bars. You know I want revenge, but… I want you more.”
Abaddon pulled him close, trapping Gabriel’s head under his chin. It was impossible not to feel the tension in his muscles, but Gabriel just kept crying at the silence, because a part of him knew it was his answer.
Abaddon gave a shuddery exhale and kissed the top of his head. “I don’t want to leave you either, but I have no choice. If I fail to send them all to Hell, I’ll have to return there myself. I only have time until the conjunction of Saturn and the Demon Star. You will lose me either way.”
This new reality was like the blade of a guillotine falling on Gabriel’s neck. He’d been so stupid. Of course there was no way out of this. And worse still, he’d now revealed his true, pathetic nature, and Abaddon would never see him as anything but a liar.
“I didn’t know. I was so selfish, I’m sorry,” he whispered, but couldn’t stop the ugly crying. He’d had vague hope for a future in which Abaddon stayed with him. That maybe if he prayed every day, or proved himself worthy, Abaddon would be allowed to remain here for the puny length of his human life, but this revelation crushed those dreams into dust. He’d be alone again, left with only the memory of a man who’d made him feel as though he was worth something.
Abaddon shushed him, rocking them both. “I know, Lamb. It pains me as much as you that I will have to leave. But I promise that even though I will no longer be here in the flesh, I will always watch over you.”
Gabriel wrapped his arms around Abaddon as if his beloved was already turning into smoke. With new determination settling in his bones, he fought tooth and nail to keep his voice steady, to prove that he could be depended on despite today’s fiasco.
“I will help you get to heaven. You have to let me. Let’s go get Martinez.”
Abaddon took hold of his shoulders and massaged them with his thumbs. Gabriel couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but instinct told him that his angel’s expression mirrored his own sadness.
“Under one condition. No more lies. No more sneaking around behind my back just because you don’t want confrontation. We need to trust each other.”
“I’m sorry, I might have lost my mind for a bit.” He pointed in the vague direction of the orphanage where the fire alarm had just been turned off.
Abaddon’s forehead touched his, and they kissed before he could have inhaled. The lack of air soon prickled the inside of his head, but the intense pleasure of closeness kept him from breaking away. Abaddon finally pulled back and pressed a peck to Gabriel’s forehead.
“I believe you, my lamb. But I’m afraid this means we’ll have to hitchhike.”
14
GABRIEL
With his heart in his throat and palms sweaty, Gabriel walked up to the motel and stood in front of Martinez’s door. The night sky had become overcast with clouds, making the darkness thicker, as if God wanted to obscure what was to happen tonight. Here, by the buildings, the colorful light of the nearby neon and the vending machine offered some illumination, but their glow didn’t make the situation any less frightening. The streetlight winked at him in encouragement, but facing a monster from his past didn’t feel safe even with Abaddon hiding nearby.
But he’d rather be here than on his own at home, agonizing over his heartbreaking discovery. Whichever way the scales tipped by the time of the conjunction, his angel would leave him, and neither of them had a say in it.