Bara drew nearer so he could meet Joseph’s gaze, his green eyes seemingly seeing right through to Joseph’s honest soul. “Gabriel . . .” he mused. “The Fallen’s one and only protector. The one pure angel in a sea of Satan-like sinners.”

“The Fallen?” Joseph asked.

“Angels,” Diel said, gesturing to the six of them gathered around the bed. “All of us. Angels who embrace evil. We are fallen. Just like the original rebel himself, Lucifer, refusing to bow to God, to good—Father Quinn’s words. Not ours.”

“Whoever you were is dead. You’re Gabriel now.” Bara smiled. This time it wasn’t cold; rather there was an odd kind of acceptance from the one whom Joseph deemed perhaps the most viciously complex. “You’re one of us. Our blond-haired, blue-eyed keeper of the holy path.”

Joseph—no . . . Gabriel exhaled a breath and nodded, accepting the truth, that title. Joseph didn’t exist in this place. He was Gabriel now. One of the Fallen. And the one who would save them all. He didn’t know how. But he would. He was determined.

Gabriel curled his knees to his stomach and breathed through the pain. He heard the others return to their beds, so he shut his eyes. But the minute he did, he saw it all. He saw the Fallen on their knees, the naked Brethren closing in. And he felt Father Quinn . . . his breath in his ear . . . on top of him . . . inside him.

Gabriel’s eyes snapped open, escaping the vision just in time to see Michael lowering himself to Gabriel’s bed. It was a small bed, and Michael’s arm brushed against Gabriel’s clasped hands. In this fetal position, Gabriel’s hands looked to be joined in prayer. Maybe they were. He prayed to God nightly that they would be found and helped out of this hell. He had faith. The Brethren were not men of God, that much he knew. He still believed in good. In a benevolent and protective Lord.

Michael lay down beside Gabriel. He stared at the ceiling, not saying a word, but Michael didn’t need to. A lump formed in Gabriel’s throat as he stared at his baby brother. The brother who had come to him when he was hurt. Michael’s jaw was clenched; his body was rigid. But he was there with Gabriel. He was there . . . just like he had been tonight, when Gabriel was robbed of his virtue.

Gabriel didn’t know how much time passed before he whispered, “The night you attacked Luke.” Michael’s expression didn’t change. “When you choked me . . .” Gabriel cleared the lump in his throat. “Were you going to stop? Tell me the truth. Were you going to stop?”

Michael had the vial’s leather strap wrapped around his hand. Gabriel sighed, knowing Michael wouldn’t answer. Still, he waited. Praying for a miracle, that he would. Gabriel was about to close his eyes, exhaustion pulling him under, all hope abandoned, when Michael said, “I would’ve stopped.” Gabriel stilled, his eyes locked on Michael. Michael’s nostrils flared. “Only for you. For no one else but you.”

Gabriel had held back his tears in the candle room. Refused to give the Brethren the satisfaction of seeing him break in the end. But in that bed, with his brother beside him, showing him after all these years that he cared, he let the tears fall. Michael closed his eyes and fell asleep. But Gabriel didn’t. Instead, he watched his brother, and roved his eyes over the rest of the sleeping Fallen. Boys who wanted to kill. Boys who walked in the dark, not the light. Lost boys. Boys with no hope, and no one, left in this world.

It was then that everything became clear. Gabriel’s path, which had been covered with rocks and stones of confusion, suddenly cleared into one of knowing. This was his destiny. This was what God wanted him to do. He felt the calling. Felt a tingling in his hands and feet. Felt God’s warmth wrap around him as he accepted this task. He was the shepherd. And no matter how big the sin, these boys were all God’s children.

Gabriel would protect the Fallen from the Brethren.

He would trust in God to help him find a way.

Chapter Seven

Three years later . . .

Gabriel staggered back down the hallway. His shoulder was hanging low, curved inwards. He had been put on the strappado again. Tied with a rope by one wrist and suspended from the ceiling. The blinding white pain from the dislocated shoulder made it hard to breathe. He’d been here before. Still, it didn’t make the pain any easier to bear.

And in two days, he had a decision to make.

The door to the dorm room closed behind him. He walked to Uriel’s bed, and Uriel got to his feet. Gabriel faced forward as Uriel placed his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and pushed it back into place. Gabriel breathed through the excruciating pain. But he’d endured worse. Continued daily to endure worse.

Tags: Tillie Cole Deadly Virtues Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net