Page 80 of Grim Tidings

I can’t help it. I laugh. It croaks out of me, shaking my whole body, making everything hurt. I laugh until tears squeeze out of the corners of my eyes, mixing with the rain that’s still pelting my skin. I laugh until I start to cry, my chest jumping with deep, heaving sobs.

When is the last time I let myself cry? I can’t remember.

Gabriel lifts me from the ground and cradles me against his chest. I turn my face and bury it against his wet T-shirt, embarrassed and overwhelmed and so damn relieved I feel like I’m floating.

I did it. I saved a soul. I can be more than my cloak and scythe.

There’s a quick and hushed conversation between Frank, Nate, and Gabriel that I can’t begin to grasp the specifics of, and then Gabriel is striding down the street, my body tucked to his, my hands fisted in the material of his shirt. I can’t stop the sounds that are pouring out of me, decades of heartbreak tumbling free.

“You’re all right,” Gabriel says into my hair. There’s a hint of pressure, a kiss brushed against the top of my head. A door creaks, and the rain finally stops. “C’mon, Darcy. You’re okay.”

“I know,” I warble, dragging my hand under my nose. Gabriel’s pristine white shirt is smeared with dirt and blood. I realize with a start that it’s probably my blood, useless as it is. It’s so stupid. Blood without a heartbeat and tears without a functioning automatic nerve system. It’s always felt like the worst sort of tease. Fragments of a mortal life I no longer get to have.

I try to wipe the marks off his shirt, but I only make it worse. I can only imagine what I look like right now.

“You look fine,” Gabriel tells me with a huff, climbing up the stairs behind the bar that lead to his apartment. He peers down at me through the muted light. “Well. You look like you’ve been hit by a car.”

A soft laugh eases out of me. My ribs twinge, and I wince.

Gabriel sighs. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

“Okay,” I agree, giving in without the fight he probably expects. I like how I feel like this, held carefully in the circle of his arms. My magic is flickering in my chest, just like the bar light downstairs. There was a surge of it when I stepped in front of the truck, and now I’m feeling the aftershocks. Low rumbles of power that rise and fall like the tide.

I shiver, and Gabriel makes a short, huffed sound of disapproval.

He sets me down on his couch, and I reluctantly untangle my arms from around his neck.

“When you said you wanted to get on your knees for me—” I wince as Gabriel peels the wet jacket from my shoulders. “This isn’t what I expected.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” His shirt is practically translucent, his tattoos dark outlines that bleed through the white material. He pushes his wet hair back over his forehead and scans my body quickly. “Can I use my magic, or is yours going to lash out?”

I check in with my magic, sparking just beneath my skin. It still feels wild. Untamed. Likely on red alert with the physical threat. Death had been so close, but I chased it away.

I hold out my trembling hands and shadows dance between my fingers. I squeeze them into fists and focus until they disappear.

“Okay,” I tell him. “I’m ready.”

Gabriel nods. “I’ll be gentle.”

I’ve felt his magic before. I’ve sensed it in the space between us, humming, like a frequency too low for me to watch. It’s warm and soft and glowing. Like a blanket, fresh out of the dryer. Or the way sunlight sifts through the curtains in the morning, crawling across the bedsheets, dust motes dancing in the stillness.

“Where is the worst of it?” he asks.

I touch my hip gently where I collided with the bumper. “Here,” I say. I reach toward my back and touch the top of my shoulder. “Here, too.”

My back feels rubbed raw, the skin burning every time I move. I ease myself up on his couch until I’m sitting at the very edge, holding myself perfectly still.

Gabriel lifts the edge of my sweater, rubbing the material between thumb and forefinger. “Can I—” I watch his throat as he swallows. “I need to see what your back looks like,” he explains. “But I don’t want to hurt you trying to get this shirt off.”

“I know.” I brace myself for the pulse of his magic. “Go ahead. I trust you.”

He stiffens, then relaxes. Like I’ve just handed him a truth he didn’t expect. He circles my wrists and gently places my palms against his chest, his expression so soft I can barely look at him.

His thumbs trace over the backs of my hands. “Hold on to me.”

“Okay.”

His palms drift over me and my shirt slowly disintegrates into nothing. He gives me a half smile. “Not how I expected to be undressing you either, for the record.”