Gabriel nodded. “It is. Your reward for surviving life.”
Bara assessed him, then, “You kept your promise.”
Warmth burst in Gabriel’s chest. “I told you I would.” Bara nodded slowly, as if he couldn’t understand Gabriel at all. As if he didn’t understand how his morals worked in comparison to his own.
Gabriel moved before them all. He studied their faces. Some had acquired more scars since he left them. They were thinner, appeared more exhausted. For that, he would never forgive himself. But they were here now. They were free and safe. He had to give himself that.
“This home was left to me by an ancestor I didn’t know we had.” Gabriel looked at Michael when he said that. As predicted, Michael didn’t seem to care. “This is now our home. It is protected. Plenty big enough for us all.”
Gabriel stepped back. “But I need to speak with you first.” He turned and made his way through the ground floor of the manor and to a set of stairs at the rear of the house. He walked down, knowing the others followed. He had gained their trust in Purgatory. Rescuing them had only cemented his place within the brotherhood. He saw it on their faces, their acceptance. Gabriel entered a dark room that was lit with candles. A stone altar stood at the end. A knife waited on a nearby wooden desk.
The Fallen entered, frowning at the oddity of the room. Gabriel stood in the center, at the altar. “What’s this place?” Uriel asked.
The door shut, keeping them inside. “I know who you are,” Gabriel said, all attention now on him. “I know what desires reside in your hearts.” Gabriel paused, pushing through the slither of fear that what he was doing was wrong. But seeing the Fallen’s gaunt faces, their bones jutting from their too-slim bodies, their dull and broken eyes, he knew this couldn’t be wrong. He had to give them a chance. “The hunger to kill. The different ways you all envision doing it.” Gabriel had their undivided attention. Not a single one looked away from him. “But I can’t let you hurt innocent people.” Bara glanced to Uriel, eyebrow raised. Uriel’s gray eyes narrowed on Gabriel. Before they could speak, argue, or question what Gabriel was doing, he continued. “I can create a life for you here. One where you get to feed that hunger, live out your greatest fantasies. But you will only kill people who deserve it. Those who have no place on this earth.”
“What are you saying?” Sela asked.
“You’ll live here, in the manor. And one day in the future, you will be given the green light to kill. You will sate your desires. But it will be controlled. Monitored. You will kill when you are ready—”
“But?” Raphael interrupted, arms folded over his chest. His thumb ran over the string on his finger, causing his flesh to turn purple.
“But first you train, hone your . . . talents. You learn how to kill, efficiently. You learn to be stealthy. I have people—discreet people—who will help.” Gabriel felt his heart crack. He knew he was out of his depth, but he had made this decision to proceed. He had to follow it through. “But first, you learn to be patient. You are young, and reckless. And as of tonight, we will have targets on our backs. Fatal targets. The Brethren will never accept our escape. We all know how determined they are. They see us as demons. Evil beings who are now let loose in the world.” Gabriel walked forward. “We are the Fallen. And we must be better than them.” Gabriel pointed at the door. “I’m not your jailer or your keeper. If you don’t want this life, this home, if you don’t want the rest of us as your family, you are free to leave. Winston, our driver, is waiting by the van to take anyone who doesn’t want this away. Anywhere you wish.”
“And if we want to stay?” Diel’s veins strained against the chain around his neck, now held by Sela, his closest friend.
“There are rules. Expectations.” Gabriel nodded in the direction of the altar. “And an oath to sign. One that can be broken only by death. A blood oath, cementing you as one of us for the rest of your lives.” Gabriel grew solemn. “It has to be this way.”
“Rules?” Sela asked. Gabriel moved to a pile of papers on the desk. He handed one to each of the Fallen. Everything was explained there. Michael didn’t read his as the others did. Gabriel hadn’t expected him to.
Gabriel’s heart was in his throat as he waited for them to decide.
Finally, Bara stepped forward, raising his palm. “Where do I sign?”
Gabriel blinked, shocked that it was Bara out of them all who stepped forward first. Gabriel moved to the altar and picked up the knife. Taking hold of Bara’s hand, he sliced a cut down the palm and watched as Bara’s blood fell in large drops onto his contract. “Barachiel, do you pledge yourself to the Fallen, abiding by our commandments?”