Fallen (Seven Deadly Sins #2)(65)
Author: Erin McCarthy

He could see it, the way it had looked then, with its scarlet sofas and peeling wallpaper, smoke hanging in the air, the women spilling out of their gowns, perched on the laps of men as they watched them play cards, waiting for the moment when the wine and the winning would cease, and the gentlemen would seek comfort upstairs. Gabriel could still hear the random and sour notes being pounded out on an out-of-tune piano that Madame had won in a game of keno, and could only marvel now how the level of his tolerance for depravity and disgusting surroundings had increased in conjunction with his addiction.

While it wasn’t as crass as it had been as a cheap bordello, it wasn’t a well-loved house either. Most of the structure and decor looked like it hadn’t been bothered with in a good twenty years. The stairs had also been carpeted in the offensive blue, and the railings a dirty white that begged for fresh paint. Gabriel jogged quickly up the stairs, knowing that what he was looking for was waiting for him.

The succession of little rooms seemed to have been consolidated into two larger bedrooms and a bathroom. But oddly enough, or maybe appropriately so, Anne’s little room at the end of the hallway had been left untouched, serving as a minute guest room with a daybed.

“John, isn’t my room just lovely?” Anne asked him, quite serious,a smile on her face as she spun around and fell backward onto her bed. She gave a contented sigh, surveying her tiny domain.

He thought the room was a stuffy little hole in the wall, the plaster crumbling, the sheets yellow with age, the dressing table chipped and wobbly, the shutters missing slats. It had the odor of damp and a thick layer of dust on the baseboards and there was absolutely nothing lovely about it.

Madame was charging him too much for it, but he didn’t really care if he was being fleeced. Money was only money, and Anne had his absinthe. It didn’t matter where he drank it and the room was enough to please Anne.

“Not as lovely as you,” he said. “Pour my drink then let me sketch you.” He wanted to capture that smile, that satisfaction on her face.

Maybe if he captured it, he could figure out how to create it for himself.

Raphael was sitting on the daybed, cross-legged, a stack of papers in his hand, more on the mattress next to him. “Hello, Gabriel,” he said without looking up. “I figured I would see you sooner or later.”

Gabriel stepped into the room, the floor creaking beneath his boots. “Raphael. I assume you know why I’m here.”

Setting his papers aside, Raphael sighed and looked up, his expression calm. Gabriel had been expecting anger, disdain, sarcasm, maybe a sick satisfaction. But he saw none of that on the demon’s face. “I think you are planning to tell me to stay away from Sara Michaels.”

“To start with.” Gabriel had other thoughts as well, but first he wanted to hear what Raphael had to say. “Are you going to agree quietly or do I have to convince you?”

There was nothing but a shrug. Raphael’s passivity was unnerving. Gabriel had arrived expecting, anticipating, a battle. He had a sheath knife in his back pocket, prepared to kill Raphael if he had to, knowing full well only an immortal could kill another immortal.

But the man he had come to think of as his nemesis, the one who had taken Anne’s life, making him doubt his own innocence, his soul, his very self, and who by killing her mother had hurt Sara in ways that could never be repaired, just sat there hunched over in khaki cargo shorts and a red golf shirt.

“I’ll stay away from Sara because I don’t want her to get hurt,” Raphael said. “I never wanted to hurt her, and I’m sorry that she has been affected by all of this . . . by me. I came here to watch her, to protect her. I admit I was surprised that she was with you . . . I didn’t anticipate that, but I figured it was a good thing. With both of us watching out for her, she should be safe, right? She is safe, isn’t she? Where is she?”

Confused, Gabriel just stared at Raphael. What the hell was he talking about? Safe from who? It didn’t sound like the words of a man who had sent her pictures of her mother’s crime scene, but Gabriel was wary of drawing any conclusions. “She’s safe. Why do you care?”

Raphael propped his chin up with his hand. “I care about Sara. She’s a wonderful person. Kind, giving, and she loved her mother even though Jessie had her fair share of problems. I should have stayed away from both of them.”

“If you care about Sara so damn much, why did you kill her mother? That nearly destroyed her.” And Raphael had clearly lost his mind. He was eerily calm, melancholy, unfocused.

But Gabriel’s words made Raphael’s head snap up. “I didn’t kill Jessie. Gabriel, I swear by all that is holy, I didn’t kill Jessie. I loved her. We had a good relationship. Together, we were helping each other be better, if that makes sense.”

Gabriel did understand that. It was the very way he had thought of his relationship with Sara. But he couldn’t wrap his mind around Raphael being innocent. All evidence pointed to his guilt. “Then who did? You were the last one with her. Your DNA was found on her. There was no forced entry.”

Raphael waved his hand in dismissal. “And like my attorney said in court, we were in a relationship. There was reason for my DNA to be on her. But I don’t want to run through all the forensic evidence. I can’t stand the thought of it any longer. I can’t stand what was done to her. I came here to kill myself, you know. To end it. Where it began.” Raphael stacked up the pile of papers neatly and held them out. “My last will and testament, if you please.”

Still unsure of what exactly was going on, Gabriel took the papers, feeling like the last piece to the puzzle was still missing. “Why did you kill Anne? She did nothing to you, and if it was to punish me in some way, why did you testify for the defense in my trial?”

But Raphael just shook his head. “I didn’t kill Anne either. I was upset when she chose you over me because I was fond of her, but I was willing to recognize that you had more money than me, and a prettier face. I also realized that Anne didn’t appreciate my love of the French ménage à trois. I couldn’t resist one last visit to her though that night, but you arrived early and Madame sent me packing.”

Not bothering to hide his disbelief, Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest, crumpling the papers in the process. “So you’re telling me that you had nothing to do with any of these women’s deaths? That you’re just an innocent little lamb prancing around the f**king meadow?”