“Left?” I strode into the hall. “You left him?”

“To get help, Olivia. We should go and phone for—”

“You go. After you tell me where the hell Ricky is.”

“The belfry.”

I started to run. Every other time I’d gone that way, I’d never found the stairs. But now the hall kept going, exactly as it should, the stairs ahead. Gabriel thundered after me, saying, “Hold on.”

I swung onto the stairs.

“They’re rotted!” he called after me.

I ran up, moving fast enough that when one gave way, it broke after my weight was on the next. Gabriel kept calling after me, telling me to stop or at least slow the hell down. He actually said “hell,” which was probably code for I’m serious. I did exactly what he’d spent the day doing to me: I ignored him.

I found the belfry ladder. When I reached the top, the first thing I saw was blood. It arced across the wall and dripped onto the floor. The belfry railing was broken. A hole in it, just the size for someone to have fallen through, with fresh jagged splinters on both sides.

“Ricky!” I started running toward the hole.

“Olivia! Stop!” It was Gabriel. “The floor—”

My foot hit a hole, and I stumbled. As I did, I saw Ricky, unconscious, propped against the wall, his neck bound with strips from his shirt, the rest discarded beside him. His chest rose and fell with steady breathing.

I took a step in that direction.

“Careful!” Gabriel said, his voice harsh as he crested the steps.

I picked my way toward Ricky.

“We thought we heard you up here, and something attacked him,” Gabriel said. “It cut his neck and knocked him through the railing. Luckily, he caught the edge. I hauled him back in and bound his neck. When I left, he was conscious but weak from loss of blood. Is his breathing—?”

“It’s all strong,” I said, putting my hands to his chest.

Gabriel exhaled. “Good.”

As he crossed the floor, I saw why he’d been slow coming after me. He was limping—badly.

“You’re hurt,” I said.

He gestured at the hole in the floor. “It’s the same leg I injured before. It’s just acting up. I’m fine.”

It was doing more than acting up. Pain flashed in his eyes with each step.

“I’ll go for help,” I said.

He shook his head. “I don’t want you getting trapped again.”

“I think that’s over,” I said. “And from the looks of it, if you take another flight of stairs, you’ll end up at the bottom. Keys.”

“I can handle—”

“Give me your damn keys, Gabriel. Someone’s blocking cell service in here, and I may need to drive to get a signal. The longer you argue, the worse Ricky is going to get, and—”

He handed over the keys.

“Now sit,” I said. “There. And don’t move.”

At a pained quirk of his lips, I hesitated, and then said, “I’m glad you’re here. I’m sorry if I didn’t say—”

“You don’t need to. I’m the one who’s sorry, Olivia.” He met my gaze. “For everything.”

I nodded. He looked away then, lowering himself to the floor beside Ricky and saying, “There, I’m sitting. Now go on.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

At the bottom of the steps, I hesitated. I fingered my gun and switchblade. I should have given one to Gabriel. At the very least, I should have told him to take out Ricky’s knife. He’d said something attacked Ricky, which meant we weren’t alone here.

I was considering going back up when I heard Gabriel’s voice, so distant I had to strain to pick it up.

“I know you’re there,” he said.

I slowly climbed three steps.

“Stop hiding in the shadows,” he said. “I’m not the one who sees visions and hears voices. I know you’re there. Come out.”

I quietly picked my way past the rotted steps.

“Are you sure that was me, Gabriel?” a man’s voice said. “I suspect it sounded a lot like that little inner devil you humans seem to have, the one that sits on your shoulder and whispers all the things you want to do and know you shouldn’t.”

“That’s called a conscience,” Gabriel said. “Mine might be underdeveloped, but I recognize its voice perfectly well.”

The man laughed. “No, boy. That’s not conscience. It’s cowardice. Which is much the same with your kind. You tell yourself you should not, when in truth you only dare not.”

I knew that voice. It was exactly who I expected to find here: Tristan.

I continued down the hall, painfully slowly, testing each step first, for the rotted boards and to keep silent.

“I’m not going to kill Ricky,” Gabriel said, and I stopped dead, my heart pounding. “You can whisper all you like. I’m not Gwynn.”

“No, boy. You don’t have the balls.”

“If you think that will provoke me, then you understand me much less than you believe. I might be Gwynn’s representative in this drama. I’ll accept that. I’ll even accept that there’s more to it than that, that part of me is Gwynn. But the whole is not, and that’s a choice I am free to make.”

“Pretty speech, but you aren’t in front of a judge here, Gabriel. I’ve already rendered my judgment and delivered my verdict.”