Free Fearless Magic by Rachel Higginson Page B

I offered, narrowing my eyes in gut reaction to this man who embodied the will to fight.
    “I know who you are,” Gabriel replied confidently, “your parents were here three days ago.”

Chapter Eight
     
    “They were here,” I demanded, standing up straighter and crossing my arms in an over-dramatic huff, “three days ago?”
    “Yes.” Gabriel tapped three of his fingers sequentially against his thigh as if mentally calculating his claim. “Yes, yes, three days ago.”
    “And were they.... were they....” I didn't even know how to approach this conversation. “Were they looking for me?”
    “No,” the priest replied simply. His eyes flashed with the color of fire, the brightest orange for a moment before settling into a burning flame that would warm the coldest room. He took a step forward, so that he was fully inside the sanctuary, and with his step the candles surrounding the alter flared suddenly, just like his eyes, and then settled back into soft flames offering the silent prayers uttered at their lighting to the heavens.
    “Well,” I started, trying to brush off the wave of irritation that washed violently over me. “Well, then, what were they doing here?” I asked indignantly.
    “They came for the same reason you have, to ask me to join your cause.” Gabriel's thick, melodic and rich Peruvian accent was answered me with the smallest of smiles, a deep dimple coming to life on his right cheek.
    “And what did you tell them?” I inquired casually, downplaying the hope rising inside of me.
    “I told them I would think about it,” he answered, cocking his head to the side and gazing at me as if sizing me up through his unique eyes.
    “So, have you?” I cut to the chase, realizing it might not be so impossible to catch up with my parents if they were only three days ahead of me. If Gabriel could just give me a lead on where they were headed....
    “Yes,” he responded with the easiest simplicity and at the same time the deepest gravity.
    “And....?” I fought against the urge to stomp my foot impatiently.
    “I do not like your parents,” he said candidly; his comment took me by surprise. “I feel that they have played the cowards, that their absence has been too long and that their return is much too slow and calculated.”
    I locked my teeth together, biting my bottom lip as if to forbid it from moving. My fingers dug deeply into the flesh of my crossed arms, reminding myself that I needed this man, and that he offered another link in the armor that had to be created if I were to get to the rest of those that needed rescuing. But, who did he think he was?
    His eyes flickered and flashed from bright to dull, from burnt to vivid, in moments as if they actually were on fire, as if they glowed and burned like a real flame. He was watching me, gauging my reaction, taking in my careful smile and deciding what he would do with me. I fought against every innate urge that I possessed to open my reckless mouth and give him more than he for.
    “Do you know her parents?” Jericho stepped forward, walking purposely to my side and speaking for the first time to Gabriel. “Do you know them enough to accuse them like this?”
    “I know them well enough,” Gabriel replied, quieting his voice and relaxing his shoulders, “I knew Amory better,” his gaze became distant for just the smallest of seconds, a brief moment of silence offered to the dead in reverence and respect. “The point is, I am convinced that you are right, that your cause is just and necessary. But you have not come to ask the priest his moral theories on the obligation for every Immortal to stand for justice. You, as well as your parents, are asking if I will personally join this war. If I will fight hand to hand against this king that wishes you dead. That requires a different sort of man than one chosen for the cloth. So, my answer was and is 'no'”
    “Maybe an ordinary man of the cloth, but Gabriel you are anything but