The Last Chance (sequel to A Hundred Lifetimes)

Nineteen

Mary looked at him like he was crazy. She may not know much about the Council, but Dorian had already made it clear that the top dogs were Amiya, Tyrrell and this guy—so what the hell was he talking about?

She was just about to open her mouth to speak when there was suddenly a slight shift of mood in the air. She barely noticed it, but it made Gabriel straighten up and look up at the sky.

“Can you feel that?” he whispered with a sullen look on his face. “The sun.”

That was when Mary realized what had changed. A small sense of panic began to crawl up to her chest as she hurriedly pushed the curtain aside and looked out at the suddenly overcast skies. “I should have checked the weather report,” she muttered under her breath, still unable to fully grasp what the situation meant.

Meanwhile, Gabriel was finally on the move. He peeked out the window once more to check the ports, then grabbed the small bag of blood that Mary had brought for him. “I should have known,” he grunted to himself, much to Mary’s confusion, right before sinking his teeth into the bag and hurriedly drinking its contents—not a care if it was dripping all over the floor. Mary watched him with widened eyes as he finished it all up and threw it aside—his light brown eyes glowing with newfound energy, and his teeth much sharper than before.

“Take Chiara and go to Dorian,” Gabriel commanded as he wiped the blood off his lips. “Leave this island at once and—” he stopped when he looked out the window and saw a boat headed towards the dock. “Tsk, it’s already too late.” He walked across the room in a few large strides to grab the fisherman hat and glasses from the corner—the ones that Mary had bought for him last night.

“What do you mean it’s too late?” Mary asked, still confused as to why Gabriel was suddenly on the go, given only a little overcast sky. She peeked out of the window once again and saw that the boat was getting nearer and nearer to docking. “Do we have company by the docks?”

“Amiya and Tyrrell have probably figured it out,” Gabriel answered, putting on the hat and glasses. “Faster than I hoped they would.”

“Figured what out?” Mary asked as he followed him out of the room.

“That your friend, Chiara Baker, is the Vessel,” Gabriel simply put as they strode down the hallway towards the stairs, “and now they have sent some of their men for her.”

“But it’s the middle of the day!” Mary scoffed as they began their descent. “Why would anyone even send their—"

“Amiya and Tyrrell do not care if vampires catch on fire in the middle of a desert to do their bidding. They would especially not care if there are casualties when looking for the Vessel. If I am correct and they really are certain that Chiara is it, then they will send anyone and everyone under the Council that they can to launch an attack.” He pushed the front doors open, and even though it looked like he barely put any strength into it, the doors creaked and shook as if they were on their last hinges. As the daylight shone on them both, Gabriel slightly recoiled but kept on walking. “Strike midday when you would least expect it, not a care about the cost of war.”

Mary, having had enough of all the frantic chasing, grabbed his arm spun him around. “Then tell them to stop,” she said.

“It is not that easy,” Gabriel said as he shrugged her off and continued his pace, making Mary’s eyebrow twitch in annoyance.

“You are on our side, right?” she asked, trying to keep up beside him as they approached the beach.

“I am only following commands,” Gabriel answered as he abruptly stopped and looked around. There were a few more boats following the one that had just docked, Mary noticed. He was right. A fleet was being sent in midday. “That is what I am loyal to, that is why I would appreciate it if you do not tell anyone that you—"

“You were never here, I know,” Mary said as she untied the bandana from her bag and handed it to Gabriel. He looked at her and the piece of cloth in confusion until she rolled her eyes and motioned for him to use it on his face.

“Ah,” Gabriel muttered as he understood and wrapped the cloth to cover his face from the nose down.  With that, the fisherman hat, the sunglasses, the cheap island shirt from the thrift store, and his slacks, Mary couldn’t help but shake her head and comment, “You look f*****g ridiculous, it suits you,” with a chuckle.

A small scoff escaped Gabriel as he looked out at the people beginning to disembark the boat. “I will stall them off as long as I can, but you have to hurry,” he warned. “Protect the Vessel.”

“You don’t have to say that twice,” Mary muttered, and with that, the two separated ways—Gabriel headed towards the port while Mary ran to fetch Chiara.