Chapter 3
Outside, Gabriel proceeded quickly to the black stretch limo where the side door opened on cue and he slipped inside. The limo launched before the door even closed and he had to steady himself before almost pitching forward onto the other man in the car.
The windows allowed in only minimal light. The seats were leather, the floors an oddly root-contoured feel. Around the ceiling hung an assortment of vines—some green, some wooden: mistletoe, hazelnut, hemlock, all entwined and crisscrossing in elegant, almost harmonious patterns, creating a patchwork living roof of foliage.
“Well?” came the voice from the seat across from Gabriel, behind the driver’s panel. A face pulled itself free of the inky folds of shade and fractured light, a chiseled face right out of the pulp comics, the rugged face of a hero with high cheekbones, a jutting chin and a broad forehead ringed with coarse red hair and tied back in a pony tail. A fine edging of a beard framed his jaw, and a perfectly manicured mustache rested under eyes of intense jade, like ancient stones set in an excavated statue of some nature god. He wore a dark suit, the mirror of Gabriel’s, as black as oil, with the exception of a tiny yellow wildflower pinned to his lapel.
Gabriel cleared his throat. His fingers traced the ridges of his wooden staff, seeking comfort there. When he spoke, his voice cracked. “I think he’ll call.”
“You think?” his employer asked.
“I … I know he will. I’ve got his interest, if for nothing else, to see what I’ve been doing. He hopes I’ve changed.”
“Oh you have, Gabriel, you have. I’ve seen to that.”
Gabriel nodded. “Thank you. But I don’t believe it’s in the way my father hoped.”
The man with the red hair sat back and gave a low chuckle. “Sons rarely please their fathers. It’s a truth he should have prepared for the day you scuttled out from between your mother’s legs.” The diminishing laugh merged with the sound of a hard tapping.
Gabriel clenched his own cane tighter as he saw the other staff, the one carried by his employer, gleaming in the green-tinted radiance. A gnarled, ancient stick with a gold-plated base and an emerald tip. His employer was tapping it against his open palm, absent-mindedly. “Tell me,” he said, in almost a whisper. “Because I do not share your optimism. What options do we have if he refuses?”
Gabriel swallowed hard. Closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. “My mother maybe, but if time is of the essence …”
“It is.”
“Then you have to go after Shelby. She’s the true love of my father’s life. He pays every day in guilt for what happened to her, and he tries every minute to make up for it. If anything else should threaten her …”
“Perfect. Although of course I had already arrived at the same conclusion.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“I just wanted to hear you say it. It confirms that my trust in you is not misplaced.”
“After all I’ve done? You trust me by now … sir.”
“Good, then it’s settled. But I’m sorry. We are not going to wait for his call. I’d hoped you would have been … more persuasive. Now, we’re out of time. We have to ensure his compliance.”
Gabriel was about to argue, but saw the determination in those green eyes, the look that said the discussion was over. Reluctantly, he shrugged, though his muscles were heavy, his blood ringing in his ears. “I know the stakes. I’m prepared to make … sacrifices.”
The other man smiled, spun his cane and withdrew into the shadows as the limousine raced onto the interstate.