1 comments/  15536 views/  3 favorites

Dark Impulse Ch. 00

By: Aurora Black



Author's Note: The main characters (Gabriel Knight, Grace Nakimura) and a couple of secondary characters (Mosely and Gerde) are the property of Sierra / Vivendi Universal and Jane Jensen. Everything else is mine. Okay, moving on...

This project began as a simple fan fiction for the "Gabriel Knight" series of adventure games, but to my surprise, it soon evolved into a huge production. For those of you who aren't familiar with the games, don't worry. Hopefully I've written Dark Impulse well enough that the very few (and far between) references to the games won't take away from the main plot of the story. 

Let's rock.

* * * 

Battery Park City, 

New York City

Travis Cooper was a ruthless and cruel son-of-a-bitch, and many would admit that he wouldn't be missed, but even they would flinch at the idea of him dying in such a brutal, savage way.

Cooper stood in the grand lobby of Anami Enterprises on his way out, slowly taking in his surroundings. In spite of himself, he was impressed by what he saw; however, he couldn't help but think about how much better everything would look with his name on it instead.

An emergency shareholders' meeting had been called that night, and it had drawn to a close just a few moments before. Anami had urged the shareholders that their stock in the company was secure, and that the recent slump in business was only temporary, etc.

Yada yada yada...the same ol' shit that I've heard before from other companies that I've invested in. I should have never involved myself with some thievin' Jap anyhow. But his loss of credibility with the other shareholders will be my gain soon enough.

Cooper chuckled to himself as he slid on his black leather trenchcoat and his faded Stetson hat. Even in New York City, which he rarely visited, he always dressed like a cowboy. The only reason why he decided to show up at tonight's meeting - he usually opted to conduct his business over the phone from his sprawling Texas ranch - was because he saw an opportunity opening up for him to execute a hostile takeover of Anami's pride and joy. 

I think that I may have convinced a good amount of folks to help me along with this coup, and turned them around to my way of seeing things. Tomorrow I'll get the answers I need to move forward; hell, perhaps by this time next week, I'll be the one conducting the meetings! Ha! Sayonara, Anami, you slant-eyed fuck! This is for the friends I lost in the war, you bastard!

With that, he pushed through the revolving door and into the night, ignoring the doorman's offer to call for a company limo to take him back to his hotel. He'd rather take a smelly old cab than ride in one of Anami's luxurious cars. It was a 10-block walk from the high-rise's front door to the open street, but he didn't care. He wanted to feel the late March breeze on his face, along with the spray of the Hudson. 

He looked at his ultra-expensive Rolex; it was 11:45pm.

It's windy as hell tonight. I wish I was back on my ranch; there, I wouldn't have to worry about being cold like this. How can folks tolerate this weather? Pasty-faced pussies, all of them! They wouldn't last 5 minutes on my turf. Shit, my hip is acting up from all this sea spray.

Over his shoulder, he saw a flash of a waving hand. He stopped, turning towards the man who was striding toward him, shouting Cooper's name so he could be heard over the crashing waves. 

"Mr. Cooper!"

It was Anami, and Cooper grit his teeth at his approach. 

All right, hopefully this will be short and sweet; just smile into this fucker's face and then tomorrow you'll grab his company from underneath him.

"Yes, Mr. Anami? Did you want to discuss something with me?" 

Cooper twisted his aged features into what he hoped passed for a decent, friendly smile.

David Anami looked straight into the eyes of the older Cooper, and he paired a face to the rat he'd been alerted to by a reliable source. He couldn't stand the sight of him. He wanted to throw the old man headlong into the river; unfortunately, he had to find another, more diplomatic way to go about this unpleasant affair.

"Let's just cut the bullshit, Cooper. I know what you're up to. Do you really think that you could do a better job than me? I have several branches of AE in 10 countries! This is my blood and sweat! How dare you try to persuade the others against me, try to steal my business! If this is because of your personal problem with me, fine. I couldn't care less. If this is because you're not satisfied with your investment here, then you're free. You can get your money back with interest. But for God's sake, don't screw around with my life's work, or you'll regret it. I'm not that easy to break, I promise you that. You'll be in for one hell of a fight."

Anami was satisfied with getting out all that he wanted to say, so he turned to leave. Cooper, until that point, was stunned speechless; his mind scanned over the people that he'd talked to, trying to pinpoint who could have ratted him out to Anami. And then it came to him.

"It was that goddamned Kilpatrick, wasn't it? Shit, I should have known that he'd run to you at the first chance and tell all! Stupid, brown-nosing Jap pet..."

Anami whirled around, pointing a finger at Cooper. His expression was livid.

"You can go straight to hell, Cooper. Kilpatrick is a very good friend of mine, and he's more of a businessman and a man in general, than you will EVER be!"

Again, David turned to walk away. He was determined to be the better man in this, but what Cooper said next blew away all his good intentions.

"You slant-eyed bastard! You sandal-wearing, fish-farming fuck! Damn straight, I'd make a better CEO than you! You wanna know why, you shit? Because I know how to play hardball! In your place, I wouldn't treat my employees like they were my equals, and I sure as hell wouldn't bend over backwards to please my shareholders like you do. Whenever I see you do business, I CRINGE at the thought of YOU having all this and then passing it down to some damned Jap rugrat..."

Those last three words were enough to enrage Anami to violence. With a shout, he charged at Cooper, thrusting his fist into the old man's wrinkled and hateful face. The old man was knocked down by the force of David's attack, and his arms were thrown up in vain to block Anami's blows. 

David screamed at him in between hits, some of his spittle landing on Cooper's face.

"Don't you EVER...talk that way...about my son!"

After another few minutes, Anami stopped himself and was immediately regretful. He hadn't meant to lose control like that, but the bastard had insulted both him and his young son and he'd snapped. He threw himself off of Cooper and finally walked away from the scene. He heard the old man shouting behind him, but he no longer cared what he had to say. He was too worried about what would happen next; whether or not Cooper would sue.

David entered his limo, which had been waiting for him. His driver raised an eyebrow at his dishevelled appearance, but other than that he said nothing. As his limo began to pull away from the curb, Anami looked at his shirt and groaned aloud. 

Cooper's blood. Jesus Christ, I'm screwed. I may as well say goodbye to AE forever, because now I've surely given the racist bastard the motive and means to steal my company from me. I could be subpoenaed as early as tomorrow. Oh, God...I'd do anything to hang onto my company. For my wife, for Raphael.

"Kaji, stop the car! I need to take care of something before we go home."

The brakes screeched, and David was out the door before the limo was fully stopped.

Anami ran as fast as he could toward where he left Cooper coughing up his own blood. He was prepared to offer a settlement to the old man, so that not only could he save his company, he could also prevent a lawsuit. 

"Cooper! Where are you?"

David looked everywhere for the old man, and in the distance he saw the shadow of a figure on the other side of a group of trees. He appeared to be resting on the ground, his cowboy hat blowing away into the river. Anami ran toward Cooper's shadow, determined to make him listen to his proposal.

As he drew closer, he noticed that there was a multitude of black birds gathered around the area of the trees. Their eyes flashed with the age-old satisfaction of a great hunger. They were flapping their wings against the night wind, cawing rhythmically as one. 

He began to feel a familiar sensation of dread gather in his stomach at the sight, but he had to push on.

When he finally found Cooper, or what was left of him, David had to turn away to keep himself from vomiting on the spot. He faced the water; his breath shallow and his face pale with shock. In the distance, Cooper's hat sunk beneath the waves.

Not again. Oh dear god, not again.

But there it was; Travis Cooper had joined the ranks of those taken by the black swarm, the demonic flock. And it was all David's fault.

He desperately wanted to run away, to disappear into the night. He resisted the urge; he knew from experience that it was not the solution. He must stay a little while longer, and he must be thorough. No one must know that he was ever at the scene. 

I know what I have to do, Anami thought sadly. He didn't mourn Cooper exactly; he just believed that no one deserved such a fate.

Almost no one, Anami remembered with rage, but he quickly smothered the inner fire. 

Those distant memories of another time and place wouldn't help him with what had to be done at that moment.

David took a deep breath and allowed a steady calm to settle over him, blocking out his panic and all other emotions. He removed a pair of black leather gloves from his overcoat pocket and put them on. He stepped over the body of his former colleague, and searched Cooper's pockets for all forms of identification and objects of value: Driver's license, Social Security card, his wallet and credit cards, his Rolex and wedding band, everything.

With these essential items in hand, Anami stepped away from the empty shell which was once a human being. He looked toward the sky, and unwittingly met the gaze of the hundred-strong ravens that were perched in the trees. Their eyes were an impenetrable black, and completely devoid of fear or pity. 

At the sight of them, David felt a shudder rip through him. He ran to the safety of his limo, glancing behind him every few seconds to make sure that they didn't fall upon him from above.

He continued to watch for them from his window, all the way home.

Dark Impulse Ch. 01



New York City,

March 2001

David Anami leaned back on the black leather sofa with a deep sigh, casting a glance at the clock. It was 3:00 in the morning, and the nightlife of the city below was still going strong. So was his restlessness. He briefly closed his eyes and listened to the distant honking of horns, the swish of tires on the pavement. They were the pulse of the city, and he could feel it echo in his own veins.

He'd been home for hours, but he didn't think to seek out his wife upon returning from his meeting. Instead, he sought the sanctuary of his study, away from her sorrowful eyes. They speared his heart with every glance, and tonight he didn't have the will to face them. 

He cradled his head in his hands. Tonight. Oh, God. 

He had become a monster. His soul was fading into darkness, and those closest to him were beginning to realize the potential danger they were in through association with him. It was only a matter of time before the shadows claimed them, as well. 

He tossed back another scotch and soda, breathing deeply as the streaks of alcoholic fire flowed through him and began to dull his senses. He wanted them to do what they do best; he needed so badly to be freed from his pain. He longed for oblivion.  

After placing his empty glass on the coffee table, he rose with a low groan and strode to a window which dominated one wall. He stripped off his work shirt and carelessly tossed it behind him. It landed on the sofa, its ruined whiteness evident against the dark leather.

The breathtaking view from his penthouse apartment, until then, had always inspired feelings of peace and security within him. He once believed that no harm would ever come to himself or his family in such a place as this, where all things that were considered evil seemed to fade into the mist beneath their castle in the sky; the towering skyscrapers serving as loyal guards to his personal fortress. 

Whenever he felt unsure about any critical choices that he had to make in his business matters or in his private life, all he had to do was spend some time in his study and gaze down at Manhattan, the heart of New York and the center of his world.  

Well, not quite the center. 

A half-smile curved his exquisite mouth. He remembered something that his wife once said about the window at the beginning of their life in the city, joking around with him that he was always "performing a ritual" with it and that the window was his "all-seeing crystal ball, only flat." 

He thought of his son and his frequent visits to this room, and each and every time, the child asked him for a boost so he could see for himself the view that so fascinated his father. 

David's smile faded as his thoughts grew serious once more. 

They are everything to me. In my life I have been very fortunate, but none of it comes close to the pure joy that my family gives me.

He blinked back tears as his emotions stormed through him. A lone tear escaped, trailed down his sculpted cheek. 

I will not allow anything to harm my wife and child. I would do anything to protect them. If I had to, I would die so that they may live.

His intentions were clear enough concerning his dilemma; he needed a professional whom he could trust, someone with knowledge of the supernatural. However, when it came down to taking the measures needed to find such a person, he was at a loss over what to do.

Private detectives are a dime a dozen in this town, yet somehow I believe that if I were to consult any of them about my particular case, I would find myself surrounded by men in white lab coats or the police. Jesus, the tabloids would love to get their hands on something like that.

In coming to his study, he'd required solitude to plan his next move. The only conclusion that he could draw was that he definitely could not handle the matter on his own. The stress had already begun to take its toll on him, and it was starting to affect his family and business as well. 

He did not fail to notice the worry in his wife's eyes when she looked at him, and inside he resolved to be strong for her and their son. But he was only one man, and one man can only take so much strain before cracking. He needed outside support, or he would surely go mad. 

I need someone that can prevent me from sinking further into the depths of Hell.

Another sigh escaped him, filled with despair. With a heavy heart he finally turned away from his window, having gained neither clarity nor peace of mind. 

He switched off the light, and in total darkness walked out of his study and up the stairs, not stopping until he reached the door to the master bedroom. He held his breath as he slowly entered the room, fearing that he would find the bed empty. 

Or worse, that he would find endless trails of blood on the walls, the floor, the sheets; the motionless body of his wife, her lifeless eyes staring blankly into his as if to say "How could you let this happen?"

Instead of the gruesome sight, he found his bed occupied by not just one, but two very alive beings. They were both sleeping soundly, and he gave a silent prayer of thanks that his worst fear had not become a reality.

Not tonight, but what about tomorrow or the next day?

His wife was unaware of his anxiety as she slept, her raven hair spread out on the pillow. The faint sound of her breath filled him with great awe. He cared for her deeply, and he considered himself lucky to be married to her. 

His young son was sleeping next to his mother, and David felt his heart kick within his chest at the sight of his face. He looked like an angel. 

There were countless times when the father felt as if he would crumble under the weight of his burden; the smile of his little boy was the one thing that kept him sane.

He slid beneath the bedsheets. He stared into the darkness, waiting for sleep to take him; still searching his mind for answers. Nothing came. 

* * * 

She was awake when her husband finally came to bed, and she cautiously waited until he fell asleep before slipping away. She carefully disentangled herself from her son, who had come to sleep with her after experiencing yet another of his strange dreams. 

She softly padded through the door and approached the stairs. 

They're coming more frequently now. I hoped that - I don't know what I hoped. I understand now that it was inevitable.

With an anxious glance over her shoulder at the closed bedroom door, she descended the stairs, her nightgown gently brushing against her legs as she moved. 

As she entered the study, she saw that the sky was preparing for the sunrise; the pitch black of the night yielded to shades of violet and peach. It was 5:00 am.

Another day has begun. What will it bring, I wonder? More pain? Yet another reason to believe I'm sharing my life with a stranger? 

Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears as she remembered the faded photograph that she'd recently found in her husband's desk, tucked away in a drawer. The bright, ice-blue eyes of the woman seemed to watch her, to mock her as her gaze had shifted helplessly between the two figures in the picture. 

In the photo, she had observed the handsome young man holding the beautiful mystery woman in a tender embrace, and that the woman was holding a lovely bouquet of lilies. Her breath stopped in her throat when she recognized him. 

The man was her husband. 

In a daze, she flipped the photograph over and read the inscription: 

"David and Caitlin. Oxford, March 1971." 

She looked again at David. Even back then, he had a distinguished air about him. His face was filled with the vitality of youth, and his eyes were filled with brilliance and fire. His smile rivaled the sun in its brightness as he held Caitlin against him, his front to her back, their intertwined hands resting on her swollen middle.

They were wearing wedding bands.

She felt a chill as she returned to the present, and she rubbed her exposed arms. She walked to the fireplace, her mind still thirty years in the past. Caitlin, whoever she was, had been pregnant. The child had obviously been David's; there was no mistaking the body language and visible emotion of an expectant father, of a man deeply in love. 

She built a fire, her cheeks stinging as if she'd been slapped. He had been married before, and he'd had a child with this woman. She herself had been married to David for five years, and it wounded her deeply that he would keep such a thing from her.

As much as she tried to think objectively about the situation, wanted to consider the reasons why he wouldn't want to share the information, it was no use. Like a falling domino, the photo of his secret love began a chain reaction that caused her to truly evaluate her relationship with her husband.

She stared into the flames, momentarily hypnotized. The warmth of the fire did nothing to ease the ache inside, and she closed her eyes as a sob of pain escaped her. 

I don't really know him. We are married; we share a life, a bed and a child, but I don't know him. What else has he kept from me? From all that he has told me about himself and his life, which details were true and which were lies?

She sighed and opened her eyes, not willing to delve further into the emotional black hole. She had a schedule to keep; she had to prepare for work, where she was to deliver a lecture later that morning. 

Her toes curled into the carpet as she stood and went to the bar, pouring herself a drink to help chase away the cold she felt. In between sips, she wandered the room in search of the TV remote. She wanted to watch the news, which was part of her morning routine. 

The remote was on the couch, beside what appeared to be a discarded shirt of her husband's. She ignored the shirt in favor of the remote as she sat, switching on the gigantic, high-definition television while automatically turning down the volume to avoid disturbing her sleeping husband and son.

"Hello there, and welcome to the Morning News at 5:30! This is where to go for the most recent, top-breaking news to start your day off right!" 

She stifled a yawn as the newscaster went through his opening shtick. It all sounded the same to her, so she watched the sunrise until he got down to business.

"This just in: An unidentified man was found ripped to pieces in Battery Park City. Many details are unknown at the moment, including the actual cause of death, but the body was found in the area by early morning joggers and the coroner has estimated the time of death to have occurred between midnight and 2am."

The news report regularly switched between the newscaster's reading and images from the crime scene. She felt sick to her stomach at the sight of blood on the concrete, so much so that she switched off the television immediately.

She sat back on the sofa, one hand clutching her middle as she fought back a wave of nausea.

What a horrible way to die.

She glanced at the abandoned shirt beside her, and froze. Her hands automatically rose to her mouth to prevent a scream from escaping. There were several red splotches against the once-pristine white fabric, as vivid in color as the nightie she wore. 

Alarmed, she could do nothing but stare at the stains, scattered words from the news report echoing through her mind.

A man. Ripped to pieces. Midnight.

Taking a deep breath, she made herself back away and rise from the couch. She stepped back until she bumped against the window. She bit her lip hard in an attempt to hold back tears. Her heart began to pound, and the metallic taste of her own blood filled her mouth.

David. Please, no.

Her husband had been out that late; that meeting had lasted well into the night and she didn't hear him return until long after midnight.

The AE building is down there, just a few blocks from the crime scene. 

She didn't like the path that her thoughts were taking where her husband was concerned. In the past few years, David had been her friend and confidante as well as a spouse; they'd had many good times together. He was a wonderful father to Rafe, and he was one of the most brilliant men that she'd ever known. 

To everyone around them, theirs was the perfect marriage; for her, however, it was too perfect to be true. Finding that photograph had been like a bucket of ice water dumped over her body, waking her up from the fairytale dream that was her marriage when otherwise she would have been happy to roll over and return to sleep, seeking refuge in denial. 

There were two sides to David Anami: the successful businessman with a heart of gold, and a completely different man which she had only begun to meet. Her David was kind and generous, powerful yet sensitive. She had lost count of the many times in their relationship that she went to him to talk, whether she needed to vent out her frustration about the daily trials of her profession or just to discuss one of the many topics that they both enjoyed. No matter what he was working on at the time, he'd always set it aside and listen to every word. He'd always been there for her, and she had always considered herself fortunate to have found him.

But the other side of her husband was a complete enigma to her; there had been times when David would return from a business trip abroad with a fierce temper. He'd never resorted to violence, but it was greatly disturbing for her to watch him yelling at the servants. She'd always been careful to make sure that their son wasn't around to witness such behavior in his father. Whenever she'd tried to talk to David when he was in those dark moods, he shut her out. His eyes, normally so warm, looked as if they were carved from stone. During those times, he was a total stranger to her, and for the first time ever, she'd been frightened of him.

And now I find a bloody shirt in his study, and the stains look fresh. Who did I marry? I thought that I knew, but I may have been wrong. What am I to think? Not telling me about his first marriage is one thing, but ending a man's life is another. Is he really capable of murder? 

When she'd watched him lose control, screaming like a madman, she had thought that anything was possible.

She forced herself to calm down, to think clearly about what she would do next. She left the study and sprinted across the marbled floor to the kitchen, her bare feet silent against the tiles. 

She approached the kitchen island and opened one of its drawers, pulling out a pair of disposable latex gloves and a few plastic bags. She returned to the study, wearing the gloves. She gently picked up the stained shirt and bagged it once, then twice. On her way out, she noticed an empty glass on the coffee table and wrapped that up as well. 

Removing the gloves, she walked toward her briefcase. With her heart in her mouth, she opened it, and carefully packed the evidence away before returning the case to its rightful place. 

After all was done, she was at a loss. Her mind whirled as the knot in her stomach tightened.

What happens now? Should I confront him with the shirt and listen to what he says? Would he have a reasonable explanation? Would I believe him? I don't know what to believe anymore. Should I go to a specialist to find out if it is indeed blood that I saw? And if it is blood, should I turn him in and have my son's father taken away to prison? 

She turned on her heel and re-entered the study, heading straight for the phone. Her fingers flew on the panel from memory; she dialed the number blindly, yet with a purpose that she didn't quite understand at the time. 

Her instinct had led her thus far; she didn't fully realize what she was doing until she heard the voice-mail message in her ear, first in German and then in English, and the slow drawl of the man who spoke in the recording.

"Hello. This is Gabriel Knight, and you have reached Schloss Ritter. I'm not in right now, so if you would please leave your name, business and contact information at the tone, I would be happy to reach you at a later time. Thank you."

In her mind, the following beep sounded as loud and shrill as a train whistle. She clutched the receiver tightly in her hand, her arm refusing her brain's command to hang up the phone. Her breathing grew frantic, even to her own ears. Her thoughts raced as sobs of panic escaped from her.

What am I doing? I can't go to him for this, not for anything. It's been over five years; he belongs in the past, with the other mistakes and regrets of life. I must hang up. Now. I have to find another way to deal with what's going on.

Grace hung up the phone, and the resulting sound was like the cocking of a pistol. The click of the receiver returning to its cradle rung in her ears. In that moment, she knew deep down that somehow danger had her and her child in its cross hairs, and that the decision to cut herself off from the one man that could help them could have pulled the trigger. 

The rising sun bathed the penthouse in its light, the streaks of crimson dancing on the walls as she crept up the stairs. Her limbs felt heavy, as if they were being pulled down by an invisible weight, and she leaned against the banister for support as she forced her feet to move. 

She reached the bedroom, her gaze drawn to the small figure that was cuddled next to the much larger one under the blankets. She stood at the threshold, frozen with indecision and fear before she made herself step forward. 

Tears streamed down her face as she stepped closer to the bed, looking down at her son. He was so young and innocent, so fragile. 

Grace remained there at the foot of the bed, keeping a silent vigil over her child. 

I won't let anything happen to you, my darling. I'll die before I let anyone hurt you, especially the one that you trust the most. 



Dark Impulse Ch. 02



Schloss Ritter

Rittersberg, Germany

Gabriel Knight woke up in a cold sweat, his breath rasping through his lungs. He closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down, to slow the racing of his heart. After several minutes of meditation, he shifted restlessly in his bed, disturbed by his recent dream.

* * * 

The room was cold and dark as he stirred, his brain clouded with confusion and fatigue. His breath was visible in the air as he sat up in bed; the fire had been out for a long while. He had no idea what time it was. 

Gabriel shuddered as he gathered the blankets to his chest. He wondered why the castle was freezing. It was almost April, and although it was natural for the temperature to plunge during the night so close to the mountains, he'd never been as cold as he was in that moment. He half expected to find icicles on the ceiling.

His thoughts scattered when he suddenly realized that he wasn't alone.

He felt her presence before he saw her; the scent of jasmine filled his senses. Grace's scent. It was the same flowery perfume that had charmed Gabriel when he met her, moved him when he kissed her, and thrilled him when he made love to her.

She was wearing jasmine on the day she left him in France. After he found her goodbye note to him he spent days locked in their hotel room, his face buried in her pillow, smelling her scent. He was such a fool back then; she had every right to leave him. He spent days, months and ultimately years regretting his behavior, haunted by the eternal "what if" questions. 

What if he hadn't used her and discarded her like she was garbage? What if he hadn't flirted so shamelessly with Madeline? What if he had finally grown up and realized that he wanted Grace and only Grace? What if he had finally told her how he felt instead of shutting her out? 

The familiar wave of self-disgust at the way he had treated her washed over him. Over five years had passed since the Night Stalker case in Rennes-Le-Chateâu, but the memories were still fresh in his mind, the ache still fresh in his heart. 

What if he had followed her, instead of staying where he was to wallow in self-pity and despair?

In the darkness, Gabriel reached out his hand. He whispered her name, and as if sparked by some demonic force, the fire ignited in the hearth and he finally saw Grace standing before him. 

Her eyes glittered in the light like polished onyx, and Gabriel felt his heart quicken as he stared into them. Moments passed, and she neither said a word nor took his offered hand. He let it drop to his side, not surprised by her reaction but hurt nonetheless. 

What on earth did he expect? 

He looked at her. The years had changed her appearance; her hair was no longer worn in the sleek pageboy that he had loved, but was now an ebony waterfall which trailed down her creamy back. He longed to touch it, run his fingers through it. 

Grace's face had lost its innocence over time, and became more worldly and confident. He had never seen her so beautiful. Gabriel remembered the silkiness of her skin in his hands as he kissed her on that night long ago, and wondered if it would feel the same after all these years.

Her eyes, which were once animated and youthful, had transformed into pools of resignation and deep sadness. The intelligence that made her so dear to him was still there, but her spirit was broken. He searched her face for the reason why, but it eluded him. He sensed that more had happened in her life to bring about this change, something beyond the pain and grief that he caused her. He wished that she would talk to him.

Other than the sadness, he noticed that her eyes were bold as she surveyed him. Her gaze was an intoxicating combination of fire and ice; he wanted to ask her how much she had of each concerning him. 

Do you still love me, Gracie? Or did you lose whatever affection you had for me when you went away?

Looking at her, Gabriel thought that she looked as if she wanted to either slap him in the face or kiss him passionately. Perhaps both, perhaps neither. He didn't care which one she chose as long as she touched him. He needed a sign that he still mattered to her, that the passage of time did not do irreversible damage to what they once had together, no matter how brief that bliss was. 

With his heart in his mouth, he whispered her name again and was devastated when she turned to walk away. The soft rustling of her nightgown mocked him as her hips swayed within the crimson silk, her steps strong and sure. As she left the room, the fire died again and Gabriel was left in darkness. 

* * * 

Sleep would not come again that night, Gabriel was certain. He slowly rose from bed and sat at the edge, deep in thought. He was shaken by the dream of Grace; of course he had dreamt of her over the years, but his previous dreams had always involved the past, and they were never in such vivid detail. 

He left the bed, pausing briefly to slip on a pair of shoes before leaving his room. He walked through the corridors of his castle, knowing every inch, every curve. He did not need light to know his way. Many lonely nights spent pacing through the same halls had created that familiarity.

He climbed a winding staircase up to the attic, which Gabriel turned into a studio when the castle renovation was finished a few years back. He switched on the lights and looked around at his work. 

He had inherited his father's gift after all; the extremely large space was filled with dozens of finished paintings, and hundreds of sketches. Over half of them featured Grace: Grace reading a book in the garden, a look of pure pleasure on her face. Grace in the library, her brow furrowed in contemplation. Grace sitting underneath a tree, communing with nature. Her portraits hung on the walls, reminding him of what he had lost, what he had driven away.

With a sigh, Gabriel set up a brand-new canvas and prepared his equipment. He was determined to capture this new vision while it was still fresh in his mind. He analyzed the dream as he mixed his oil paints; remembering every detail as he brushed the canvas steadily, deliberately. Ardently. 

Finally, hours later, the portrait was finished. The sun rose over the mountains, casting light on his newest creation. He stared at Grace's image, reflecting again on the level of detail; the painting was so realistic that he felt as if he could reach out and touch her. It was his best work to date. 

A frown crossed his face as he considered the change in her eyes. He didn't question how he knew about her emotional state; his years of experience as a Shadow Hunter had served well to build and sharpen his intuition. It was now second nature to him. He knew that somehow he was bound to her, soul to soul. That was all he needed to know.

Her eyes tell me of a great despair. What caused such hopelessness? I have to find her and help in any way that I can. I would give anything to take away her pain. I must find her.

With those last four words repeating in his head like a mantra, Gabriel left the studio and returned to his room, heading straight for the Shattenjager library. 

Sitting at his desk, he leafed through the telephone directory and found the listing that he wanted: The Golden Lion, a travel agency in town. Hoping that it wasn't too early in the morning to call, Gabriel dialed the number, holding his breath with each turn of the old-fashioned rotary. 

"Hallo?" The voice sounded both sleepy and annoyed.

Gabriel's stomach was filled with butterflies as he made his reservations, the German flowing from his lips flawlessly. 

Gabriel's eventual mastery of the language was a wonder to those who had known him from the beginning; even Gerde still couldn't believe the change at times. He'd had a lot of time to practice; some months after Grace left, he forced himself out of his self-imposed exile at the castle and went more often into town. In addition to his extensive book learning, he socialized with the locals whenever he needed to buy art supplies and typing paper, or send the occasional letter to Gran, or when he would grab a quick bite to eat at the gasthof. 

The villagers, even though they didn't know what to make of him at first, had in time developed a great respect for the Ritter heir; this esteem helped Gabriel to secure plane tickets on such short notice. The travel agent was no doubt cranky at being disturbed so early in the morning - his office and house were one and the same - but once he heard the name "Knight," he was more than happy to be of assistance. 

By the end of the phone call, Gabriel was booked for a flight that afternoon to New Orleans with a connection in Washington, D.C. He figured that he owed it to Gran to pay her a visit, and he could also check on St. George's. A part of him also hoped that Grace would be there, watching over the shop like old times. 

A cynical laugh erupted from his throat. 

Not damned likely. What the hell do you expect from her, Knight? You think that she'll still be sitting at that old desk after all this time, playing shopkeeper? Waiting for YOU? That when you come back, striding in like some two-bit cowboy in a B-movie western, she'll drop everything and run into your arms? Think again, damn it. 

Gabriel swallowed down the lump that was lodged in his throat, shutting out the sarcasm of his thoughts. 

I'm not going there just for Gran and the shop, he thought with a feeling of helplessness. I honestly don't know where else to look. Gracie, where are you?

He left the library and went to take a shower, his movements mechanical and his mind disconnected from what he was doing. He was barely conscious of stripping off his clothes, the feel of the hot water on his body, the scent of the soap. He was too busy thinking about Grace and what she had told him about her background, searching for clues as to where she could be. 

As he leaned back under the spray to wash his hair, Gabriel remembered that when they first met, Grace had two years left of school to earn her doctorate. She may have returned to finish at some point. Yale was in New Haven, Connecticut. Grace was born in Japan, but she was raised in New York. Yet she had also told him more than once that she disliked the frantic pace of the Big Apple, and that she had been charmed and fascinated by the Crescent City, not just the historical aspect of it but also the laid-back philosophy of its residents.

But that was her opinion when I knew her before. Time and circumstances can change a person, and after the way I treated her I suppose that, like Rittersberg, New Orleans would be the last place she'd want to be.

He stepped out of the shower and toweled off. There was still the matter of whether or not she was still living abroad; he recalled her excitement over that community that she'd found in India, the one led by Chadrel. Could she have gone there after she left him? Very likely. 

There was something in his gut, however, that told him that she was now in the States. It was only a question of where. 

With that in mind, Gabriel dressed and went downstairs to find Gerde. 

Gerde no longer lived in the castle, but she still came every other day to cook and clean. She had moved out two years before when she fell in love and married Axel, the local carpenter. According to her, one day she decided that it was time for her to stop mourning Wolfgang and move on with her life. He would have wanted it that way. She was very happy in her new life with Axel, and recently they were blessed with an adorable baby girl which they named Anna. 

Gabriel found Gerde in the kitchen preparing breakfast. She greeted him with a smile. Anna was seated in a high chair, gurgling happily. She was exactly like her mother; all shiny blond curls and sparkling blue eyes. The baby laughed at Gabriel.

"Good morning, ladies. Beautiful day, isn't it?" 

He couldn't help but grin at the domestic scene before him. Eight years ago, back when he was a struggling writer who lived from hand to mouth (and bed to bed), he never thought that he'd have anything to do with that sort of thing. 

But back then I didn't believe in the existence of witches, werewolves or vampires either. Times change.

Gerde turned away from the stove, poured some coffee for Gabriel and then reached for the eggs. She began cracking them over a bowl. 

"What are you doing up so early, Gabriel? It's seven o' clock; you're usually asleep until at least ten." 

He sat down at the table and took tentative sips of the hot, freshly brewed coffee; it was heavenly. He paused, peering at Gerde over the rim of the mug.

"I had trouble sleeping last night. I had a dream and afterwards I couldn't go back to sleep, so I went to the attic to paint. It was about Grace."

Gerde froze, stopping the egg she was holding in mid-crack. She sucked in her breath sharply, and she slowly released it. She carefully finished her work on the eggs before washing her hands and turning around, a look of pain on her features. 

Like Gabriel, she had also been hurt by Grace's sudden departure and had missed her a great deal since. As far as he knew, Gerde hadn't heard from her at all since her disappearance. Neither had he.

"What happened in the dream?" 

She had wrapped her arms around herself, a protective gesture that let Gabriel know that she was preparing herself for the worst. Although the dream didn't sit well with him, he knew through personal experience that worse things could have happened in his vision of Grace. Much worse. 

The room was silent except for the soft crackling of cooking food; even the baby had quieted down, her eyes darting between her mother and Gabriel. He lowered his mug.

Gabriel cleared his throat. "I was alone in my room. The fire was gone and the room was freezing. I laid there, shivering in the darkness until I noticed that someone was standing next to the bed. It was Grace; even in the dark, I knew it was her. I called out to her, and the flames burned again in the fireplace and she was revealed to me. She was so beautiful, but in a tragic way."

His voice cracked on the word "tragic." He paused a moment before continuing.

"Her eyes were so sad that I wanted to take her into my arms, but something in the way she looked at me told me that she'd rather die than come to me. But there was also something else in her stare that called to me, that practically begged me to help her. I didn't know what to do. I called her name again, and she just walked away. I felt my heart literally break in my chest as she left, and then there was only darkness." 

His eyes had strayed to the floor while he spoke of the dream, and when his gaze returned to Gerde, he saw that her eyes were filled with tears. He immediately felt guilty about upsetting her, so he put down his mug and went to her. 

"Come here," he said softly, and she cried against his shoulder. 

He held her for a moment, until she finally broke away and asked, "Could you show me what you painted of her?" 

Gabriel nodded silently and turned to leave the kitchen. Gerde returned to the stove to switch off the heat and remove the frying pan so that the eggs wouldn't burn. She checked on the baby, who had fallen asleep, before following him. 

In the attic, Gerde saw the painting and wept silently. The look in the eyes was misery incarnate; a labyrinth of conflicting emotions that would have driven a weaker person mad. She saw more than just sadness in Grace's expression; she saw loneliness and regret. There was also anger and bitterness. But more than anything else she saw fear and desperation, and she shuddered despite the warmth of the room. Something was definitely wrong.

What are you up against, my old friend? Why haven't you tried to contact us for help?

Gabriel stood beside her, waiting for her response. He looked at the painting, his eyes overflowing with pain. He felt as if he had been kicked hard in the stomach. Gerde forced herself to turn away from the painting and face him. She took a deep breath.

"So what are you going to do?" 

Gabriel ran a hand through his flame-colored hair, trying to compose himself after seeing the painting again. 

"I've decided to go back to the States for a while. I'm going to visit Gran for a few days first, but afterwards I'm going to try and find Grace. I don't know when I'll return."

Back in the kitchen, they talked over breakfast while the baby slept. Gerde remained melancholy throughout the meal, and her voice held more than a tinge of bitterness as she spoke. Her resentment came from unpleasant memories of the past. 

She was clearly distraught by the recent turn of events; she was both concerned over Grace's well-being and angry at being so abruptly reminded of the person that she had tried so hard to forget.

In all the years since the Night Stalker case, Gerde never understood why Grace left without so much as a word, a phone call, or even a trip to the castle to pick up her things. She knew that something significant must have happened in France, something powerful enough to crumble the foundation on which friendships were built. 

Grace had severed the bond between the three of them with silence, and it broke Gerde's heart.

Gabriel and Grace weren't the only ones to suffer in this. Why didn't she confide in me? I would have done anything in my power to help her. Obviously my feelings of friendship weren't shared, if it was so easy for her to cut me off as well as him. 

What started all of this? Whatever did happen on that case, it almost destroyed Gabriel before it eventually made him stronger and wiser.

Her thoughts drifted back to the day Gabriel returned from Rennes-Le-Chateâu, alone. The look in his eyes told her all that she needed to know; Grace had left for good. He looked so broken and defeated that Gerde offered her support, but he coldly declined. He refused to answer her questions concerning Grace's leaving, and he cut himself off from the world for a time. 

Since that day, Gabriel threw himself into studying all of the Shattenjager archives, having the castle restored to its former glory, continuing his education in many subjects and enhancing his gifts, both artistic and supernatural. In the few, uneventful cases that followed, he learned to investigate objectively as well as by instinct. By integrating Grace's expertise with his own, it was as if he was trying to fill the gap that she'd left behind in his life. 

As a result of the whole process, which took several years to accomplish, Gabriel's outlook on life and his fellow man had drastically changed for both better and worse. On the outside, he was the perfect example of the good Samaritan; he was always available to those who needed help, he genuinely cared about their problems and was willing to listen and offer assistance. But at the same time, he set himself apart from them all; he never let them in. With the exception of Gerde herself, Gabriel maintained an emotional barrier between himself and everyone around him. It was a very lonely existence, and Gerde often prayed that someday he would find peace. 

Gerde stared at him as he spoke, not hearing his words. She didn't know whether to laugh or scream. All she could think of was the fact that if Gabriel hadn't been so deeply affected by what happened all those years ago, Grace's disappearance and the knowledge of the true origin of his legacy, he would have remained the caustic personality that he had always been. Never fully serious about anything or anyone, always drifting. 

No more.

Like the insistent beeping of an alarm clock, Gabriel's shock and pain forced him to open his eyes and see the path that he was always meant to take as the Shattenjager, the Shadow Hunter. Before the Night Stalker case, he was always ready to joke around or deliver a sarcastic comment about his situation. Afterwards, he devoted himself to his duty, body and soul. The careless, modern-day Peter Pan finally grew up and became, ironically, everything that Grace had once wished him to be. 




Dark Impulse Ch. 02



Responsible. Compassionate. Understanding. Noble. Cultured. Too late, she's gone.

Years after the fact, Gerde still didn't know what to make of Gabriel's metamorphosis. Her first thought was that Wolfgang would have been very proud of him, but then the questions soon surfaced in her mind. 

What is the meaning of this change? Did he do all of this out of grief over losing Grace, or did he make this change to prove something to himself? Was it done out of love or malice? Was it meant to be a self-inflicted punishment, an evolution of self, or some sort of preparation? Could it be that he was somehow training himself, mentally as well as physically, to win her back? He may be in for a fight. A very hard, very fierce struggle, with an uncertain prize.

Gerde remembered that they were discussing Gabriel's plans for locating Grace. Gerde closed her eyes and sighed in frustration. She then looked across the kitchen table and saw Gabriel sipping his second cup of coffee of the morning. His eyes searched the steamy blackness as if all his answers could be found there.

"Gabriel, how do you expect to find her after all this time? It's been over five years since she left, almost six. God only knows where she could be." 

Gerde leaned closer as a terrible, yet realistic idea entered her mind. Her voice lost its anger as she expressed this concern to Gabriel.

"And what will happen if you do manage to find her? Has it occurred to you that she might be married, or have children by now? Your sudden appearance in her life after so long is bound to disrupt whatever she has going on, personally upset her and those close to her."

Gabriel stared at the table in silence. Gerde offered him her hand, and he took it with a firm squeeze. She continued.

"Gabriel, it's possible that she might not want to be found or saved. At least, not by you. She doesn't know what you've been doing all this time; she doesn't know how you've changed, how you've grown. If you find her, she may not want anything to do with you. Are you prepared for that?"

Sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, and the light emphasized the dark circles underneath Gabriel's eyes as he met hers. 

"Of all people, I thought that you would have understood, Gerde. Didn't we both look at the same painting? Didn't we both sense that Grace is in trouble? She needs help, and you're trying to talk me out of going?"

"I did not say that, Gabriel. The choice is yours if you want to carry this out. Yes, I know that something is wrong, but I also know that Grace has a lot of pride. It may not be easy for her to accept your help or your presence in her life again."  

Gabriel nodded, his face grim. Gerde tightened her hand around his, causing him to look up again. 

"Gabriel, I have to know. What happened in France between the two of you?"

He sighed heavily and related the entire story to her, withholding nothing. Gerde released his hand as she slowly took in the information. 

"So, do you hate me now?" Gabriel crossed his arms defensively, his eyes resting everywhere but on her face. He knew that she was crying, and he felt ashamed. 

Gerde was overwhelmed with emotion; the hot flash of anger that she experienced upon hearing of Gabriel's ill treatment of Grace was thankfully brief, and powerful waves of empathy for Grace washed over her. 

Yes, Grace. I understand now why you had to leave. I'm so sorry that I held such ill will toward you for so long. Please, forgive me. Forgive Gabriel.

She wiped her eyes with a napkin. "No, I don't hate you. I know that you never meant to hurt her. But you did, Gabriel. Deeply. The old saying is wrong; time does not heal all wounds."

Gerde left her chair and crossed the room to the window, looking out over the mountains.

"I know that you must go to her, but I want to know that after everything is said and done, you will be able to move on with your life. With or without her. Your goal is to save her from whatever she's up against, not to follow your own personal agenda and definitely not to woo her back."

She turned away from the window, facing him. 

"You must respect her wishes; if she is indeed involved with someone else, please don't make things more complicated by bringing your own emotions into it. If you do, it'll be a disaster. She needs a friend more than anything else, Gabriel. Are you listening to me?"

Gabriel stood and walked up to Gerde. His green eyes sparkled with determination, with defiance.

"Yeah, I hear you. I have thought about the possibility that she could be with someone else now, but I won't let that stop me from doing what I need to do. It doesn't matter to me, not one bit. You want to know why? Because if she's in the type of danger that I believe she's in, then I'm the only one that can help her, and that makes everything else secondary. I'm not saying that it won't hurt to see her with another man or her having a kid with this person, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, all right?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing.

"In the course of our friendship, she helped me countless times without asking for anything in return. Christ, she didn't even expect anything in return. I owe her so much; I owe her my life. Don't you understand? I want to make amends for what I've done. I want to see her and make sure that she's okay. And if she's not okay, and I can feel deep in my gut that she's not, I will do whatever it takes to eliminate the twisted son-of-a-bitch who would dare put that look in her eyes!"

He turned away from Gerde, running his hands through his hair to compose himself. He stood there in the middle of the room with his back to her, his arms crossed in front of him.

"I know what you're asking of me, Gerde. You want to know if I'll be able to walk away from her after my business there is done, without trying to tear her away from the cozy life that she may have built for herself. We have lived and worked together for many years, you and I. You're not blind; you know that I never stopped loving her. You know that there's nothing that I would like more than to see her, touch her, ask her to come back..."

He trailed off for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut against tears. He released a shuddering breath before he returned to face Gerde. 

"But if I have to, I will walk away without looking back. If she truly wishes me out of her life, I will leave on the next plane. I will try to pick up the pieces and push on, you have my word."

Gerde stepped closer to him, placing her hand against his cheek. She was moved by his grief; touched to the core by his willingness to sacrifice all to aid Grace, knowing that he must not expect anything in return. 

"I'm so sorry, Gabriel. I can't imagine what you must be going through..."

Gabriel shook his head, and a scarlet lock of hair framed his sculpted cheek as his emerald eyes darkened with pain.

"No, Gerde, you can't. And I hope that you never will." 

There was nothing more to be said. He left Gerde standing there in the sunlight that filled the kitchen, and climbed the stairs to prepare for his departure.



Dark Impulse Ch. 03



Gabriel returned to his room in a daze, his thoughts far away as he packed his duffel bag. He felt a yawning pit of fear open in his stomach at Gerde's warnings, and he swallowed hard as he tried to overcome a sudden feeling of nausea. 

He didn't want it to be true; the idea of Grace being married, or having a child with another man was almost too much for him to take. But he would keep his word, both his silent promise to Grace and his verbal one to Gerde. He will help his old love, but he will not make things personal unless she wishes him to. 

I hope to God that she does, though. It would kill me to leave her after so much time apart. But if she has built a life with someone else, it would kill me to stay.

Again, he cursed himself for not seeking her out sooner. What the hell was he waiting for all these years? 

Gabriel knew, and was ashamed. He'd held onto the hope that she would someday return to him, not that he would go to her. If it was stubborn pride, refusal to acknowledge that he was in the wrong, or the fear of making himself vulnerable to a woman, he couldn't tell. Now, he knew that it was the biggest mistake of his life; an error that would be very difficult, if not impossible, to correct.

I have to try, or else I'll never find peace with myself or anyone else.

He was finished packing, but he needed to do one last thing before he could leave. Bag in hand, he left his room and strode down the corridor to enter Grace's old room. 

It was exactly as she'd left it, and Gabriel imagined that he could still smell her scent in the air. Closing the door behind him, he went to sit on the bed, reaching his hand out to touch the chilled sheets. Lying back, he closed his eyes. 

How many nights had he spent on this bed, longing for its former occupant? How many times had he wondered at what he could have possibly said or done to prevent Grace from leaving? 

He opened his eyes with a sigh. So many nights, and so much time wasted. I wish that it would all end.

Gabriel sat up, his hands slipping into a nearby drawer and retrieving a small book. Grace's journal. 

The slim volume covered the year between the Munich wolf killings and the Night Stalker case, and it was very revealing about Grace's emotions and desires. Soon after he returned from France, when he came across it one night in a fit of self-pity, it comforted him deeply and made him wish that he could hold her in his arms. From that night on, he went to the journal to soothe the ache inside him.

Gabriel gently turned the familiar pages, his artist's fingers caressing them as if they were a lover. Perhaps they were, because for a long time, they were his only link to Grace.

He found an entry which he must have read a thousand times before, and Grace's flowery script once again called to him.

* * * 

Christmas Day, 1994

My God, where can I begin? Even while writing this, I can feel myself trembling from head to toe. I know that I have to pull myself together soon, but I still can't believe the fact that the kiss was real and not part of some feverish dream. I don't know if I should be jumping for joy or cringing with embarrassment. I'm so confused.

It all started a couple of days ago when I decided to arrange a nice, family-type Christmas celebration for the three of us: Gabriel, Gerde and myself. While Gabriel was working on his latest novel, Gerde and I drove to the countryside and picked up the hugest tree that we could find! 

Right now I'm laughing from the size of that massive tree. You had to have been there, I guess. How the two of us thought we would be able to get that tree onto the car, as well as into the castle, I have no idea.

It turns out that we had to have the three burly guys at the tree site load it onto the car, and when we finally got back to Rittersburg (after driving very carefully and slowly), we had to enlist half the town to carry it into Schloss Ritter. 

Thank god that Gabriel was in Munich for research at the time. "Blood Wolves" is practically writing itself, he says, but he still needs the occasional visit to make sure that he sets the scenes right. He's so thorough as a writer and as a person concerning detail; that's just one of the many qualities that impress me about him. There have been times when I'd look up from whatever I was doing, and notice him watching me with those enigmatic, cat-green eyes and I'd feel myself melt. 

Okay, I'm heading into dangerous territory here. Back to the story. 

With Gabriel out of the way, Gerde, our motley crew of townsfolk and I set up shop in the Shattenjager library. From there, Gerde and I decorated the tree with ornaments and lights. By the end of the night, the entire room was ready for Gabriel's arrival home on Christmas Eve. I kept thinking about how surprised he would be, and I couldn't stop smiling.

All day Christmas Eve, Gerde and I put together a bona fide feast worthy of the occasion: roasted turkey with stuffing, honey-baked ham, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, spiced wine, the works. When he finally arrived in the evening, calling our names in what appeared to be an empty castle, we let the smells of the different foods waft down to help him discover that we were waiting for him in the library. 

He looked absolutely floored by the surprise, and I couldn't help but laugh at his expression. He was just so cute standing there with his mouth open in shock; he truly wasn't expecting anything like that to happen. He honestly thought that Christmas would come and go just like any other day. 

Like hell, I thought. He deserves a decent Christmas after everything he's been through, and I wanted to be the one to give it to him.

After a moment, he finally spoke. "Whose idea was this?" He asked the question for Gerde's benefit, I knew, because his eyes never left mine. They sparkled with amusement and pleasure, and when he smiled at me I felt myself melting inside once again. I was so happy to see him.

Gerde beamed at Gabriel as she reached for me. "Grace was behind everything that you see here, except for maybe 80% of the cooking but hey! It's the thought that counts, right?"

Gabriel's gaze returned to me and I felt myself blush at Gerde's teasing. I felt as if I could feel his eyes touching my skin, and I was breathless. 

"Yes, it does."

I watched his flawless lips form the words, and I wanted to trace them with my fingertips. I felt the pounding of my heart against my rib cage, the bite of my nails against my palms as I clenched my hands into fists. It was all I could do not to throw myself at him, kiss those lips and beg him to touch me all over.

I served him food instead, and I distanced myself from him the entire evening. I was such a coward. 

We ate dinner at a long table which I had the townspeople bring up to the library. Gabriel feasted on the juicy, succulent meat with such gusto that I couldn't help but wonder, as I had so many times before, how passionately he would devote himself between the sheets or in affairs of the heart. I wished that I knew.

Last night, I would have given anything to find out.

The conversation flowed around me; I took a very small part in it, my mind otherwise engaged. When did it all begin, this change in my feelings for Gabriel? I found myself sifting through all of the special moments that had taken place in the course of our partnership, analyzing each event to see when I could have fallen so hard. 

Then it hit me; of all the times that we've had together, the one moment that set itself apart from the rest was when Gabriel and I stood on the bridge overlooking Neuswanstein six months ago. It happened just after we finished the case in Munich, and it was a time when emotions were rubbed raw on both sides.

We were discussing his destiny and his future, and he seemed so resigned to his fate, yet he was determined to fulfill the role that he had been given. His eyes were so sad that I wanted to reach for him, hold him to my breast. I wanted to tell him that he had a home there.

It was then that I first realized that I loved him. And with that discovery, I remember that the happiness I felt became pain when I considered the possibility that he may not be able to love me back. We are as different as night and day, and we wouldn't suit each other in a relationship as a result of that imbalance. 

In the years that I've known him, I've only seen Gabriel get involved with two kinds of women: the occasional, my-bra-size-is-larger-than-my-IQ bimbo, and the mysterious, sensual and beautiful Malia Gedde. I can easily ignore the former, but whenever I think of Malia, I feel deeply inadequate even though she's dead. 

Gabriel truly loved her, and I fear that if and when he made the eventual comparison, I would look like a weed in a field of exotic orchids.

I am not either of those styles of women, and I don't want to be. I am myself, I am Grace. I am not willing to change for anything, or anyone. 

Besides, if I were to get involved with him and it didn't work out, where would it leave our friendship? Our partnership on the Shattenjäger cases? I couldn't bear it if I had to give it all up because he would've tired of me as a lover. And I'm sure that he would give up on me as time passed, as I've seen him discard many women before without a second thought. I don't want to be like that. I refuse to be like that.

These were the thoughts that were in my mind when I offered to leave that day on the bridge, supposedly to continue my education. I still wanted to get my doctorate, but I knew that it would be best to get away from him and try to get on with my life before it was too late. Before I would find myself drawn even deeper into his world, and one day I wouldn't be able to imagine my life without him in it. 

It was already too late for me, but I tried in vain to free myself and told Gabriel of my plans to return to America.

But then he said the words, "Don't do that," and it was out of my hands. I couldn't walk away from him. So I stayed on, knowing that I could never let him know how I feel. Nothing can come of this love, only disaster and misery. 

I was startled out of my thoughts when Gerde suddenly stood up and bid us goodnight. She gave me a secret wink in the split second that Gabriel wasn't looking. Oh, God. I couldn't believe that she was trying to get us alone; I thought that she would know me well enough to know that it was the last thing I wanted.

No, she knows me too well. I did want to be alone with him, so much that it scared me at the time. Was it that obvious?

After Gerde left, I took my barely touched wine and sat on the rug in front of the fireplace. I could feel Gabriel's eyes on me as I stared into the flames. I didn't dare look at him, or else he would've been able to see my heart in my eyes. 

"Gracie, I..."

I sipped my wine slowly, waiting for him to continue. I felt the potent mixture begin to take effect, and I felt very warm. My face flushed and I became achingly aware of the part of me that longed for him, that needed to take him inside. 

I heard him get up from his seat and walk toward me. I dipped a finger into my glass, taking a few drops of the wine and spreading the wetness onto my lips. I licked my lips with a sigh, wishing that they were his. Since my back was still turned to him, I felt free to do this; liberated to desire him openly yet secretly, in a position where I could neither see nor be seen.

"I just wanted to thank you for all that you've done here, not just for Christmas. It really means a lot to me." 

You mean a lot to me, I wanted to answer. I wanted him to thank me in an entirely different way than words. I wanted to grab him and pull him down to the rug on which I sat, slowly opening the buttons of his shirt...

He stepped closer. "I don't know what I would have done if it hadn't been for you."

I wanted to drip my wine onto his chest and lick it from his nipples, his stomach. I wanted to hear his groans as I leisurely worked my way down...

I felt his hand brush against my hair, caressing it. He whispered my name softly. He sat down a few inches behind me, yet I could feel the warmth of his chest against my back, as if he were embracing me. I was tempted beyond belief to just lie back and close the distance between our bodies, but I couldn't allow myself to move. 

Having a relationship with Gabriel would be incredible, I thought then, but it would last as long as a falling star. It is best to keep my feelings locked away in my heart, but how can I continue to see him every day, knowing that he holds the key?

I felt a tear spill down my face before I could stop it, followed by a second and a third. I wanted him more than anything, but I couldn't have him.

I rushed to stand, dropping my wine glass in the process. It fell as if it were in slow motion to crash onto the floor, and I gasped through my tears. 

Gabriel stood up in the next second, concern flooding his features. 

"Gracie, what's wrong?"

I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs, "Don't you know, Gabriel? Don't you know that every time I see you, I feel an ache in my soul? That every time you smile at me or say my name in that special tone of voice, I feel the need to touch you? Don't you know that I have a fire inside of me that can never be quenched? Don't you know that I love you?"

But I couldn't speak. The words were stuck in my throat, choking me. I couldn't breathe around them. 

Gabriel cupped my face in his hands, tenderly wiping my hair from my eyes. I wasn't even aware that it was in the way. His eyes met mine, and I gasped again. He was so beautiful. He stared into my eyes for several moments, and I felt my will dissolve. His hands massaged my neck, he murmured my name again and began to pull me closer.

His lips touched mine, and my world exploded. Wild horses couldn't drag me away from where I was. Before I knew what I was doing, I was standing on tiptoe and wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him down to me. He responded by holding my waist, bringing me to him. His tongue was so soft and warm against mine, and I sighed into his mouth at the wonder of it. His lips felt like magic, and I couldn't resist sucking on his bottom lip. I loved his groans, and I was dizzy with excitement as I felt him grow hard against my thigh. 

With a soft moan, I pressed myself against his bulge, making him moan my name. His voice had changed, becoming husky and erotic. He then lifted me into his arms, and gently lowered us onto the carpet as one. 

Falling deeper into the spell, I arched my back as he kissed my neck. He began unbuttoning my blouse as his lips traveled lower, teasing my sensitive skin. I ran my fingers through the blaze that was his hair, not caring if I caught on fire and burnt to ash. I let my hands slip underneath his shirt collar to stroke the muscles of his back. I couldn't stop touching him. At last, I thought. I needed him so much, I thought that I was going to die from it.

I couldn't hold back my words anymore. "Oh, Gabriel please...please make love to me. I need you."

Suddenly everything stopped, and I felt as if I had been thrown into an ice-cold sea. I closed my eyes against my own stupidity, against the knowledge of Gabriel's response to my plea. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and die at that point.

The silence was deafening and excruciatingly long. Finally, after what had to have been several minutes, Gabriel rolled off of me and stood up.

"I'm sorry, Gracie. I don't know what came over me. I didn't have the right to do that to you. You're a good friend."

Friend. Friend? Friend! 

"You idiot," I wanted to shout, at him as well as myself. I felt like such a fool. How could I have ever thought that he wanted me as much as I wanted him? 

I'm still amazed at how I managed to rise from the floor, straighten my clothes and make myself meet his gaze with dignity. I was wounded to the core by his rejection, but I didn't allow him to see it. I didn't want his pity.

My voice hardly shook when I replied, forcing a smile. 

"Yes, that's exactly what I am, and there is nothing to forgive. Let's just forget that anything happened, okay?"

I left then without another word, waiting until I was safely in my bedroom before I let the tears come from deep within. 

Last night, I drowned in them. 

Now it's almost sunrise and I haven't slept all night from crying. It's inevitable that Gabriel and I are going to cross paths today, so I can only hope that I'll be strong enough to erect a barrier between him and my fragile heart. 

What happened last night can never happen again, but I can't say that I'm sorry it did. I had a taste of what it was like to be in his arms, and I'll never regret that. 

I'll only mourn the loss of what could have been.

* * * 

Gabriel remembered that night well; he'd been touched by Grace's thoughtfulness and generosity, and he felt as if he was the luckiest person in the world to have her as a friend.

But that wasn't why he kissed her, not even close. 

All night he'd noticed that she seemed lost in her thoughts, and that she avoided his eyes at every opportunity. It was so unlike her to be that way, and when he approached her before the fire, he'd meant to let her know that he was there for her if she needed to talk. 

He was startled when she cried and dropped the wine; he wanted to help her, console her. That was before he looked into her eyes and saw into her soul. He saw torment and longing. Love? At the time, he told himself that he wasn't sure. But now, confronted by her words again, Gabriel had no choice but to admit that he did know how she felt for him. 

He'd been scared half to death, but he was also filled with hope. He'd been through the emotional wringer the previous year, and during that time Grace had seen firsthand the worst that he had to offer. Christ, he was an actual werewolf for three months, and she still stuck by him! She had a lot of guts, his Gracie.

Any other woman would have run the first chance they got, but Grace was unlike any woman he'd ever known. She'd stayed with him, and he was both thrilled and frightened by her faith in him. He believed that he didn't deserve her, and with a perverse desire to test the limits of her love, he didn't hesitate to demonstrate to her what she was dealing with. In her presence, he became the bastard that he thought he needed to be. 

To him, Grace's words marked the beginning of the last straw of her emotional tolerance. After that Christmas, other such instances happened with the same result; he always withdrew from her, leaving her in the cold. It didn't matter that he had wanted her just as much; he'd felt so unworthy of her affection that he had unknowingly made her feel that she was beneath his. She must have felt like a lowly plaything for his twisted amusement. 

She didn't deserve that from me. My lovely Gracie, I'm so sorry.

Gabriel closed the diary and returned it to its drawer. 

I swear that I'll make it up to you somehow.

Struck by a sudden flash of inspiration, Gabriel returned to the library, searching the shelves for the book that he wanted to take with him. He grinned triumphantly as he found the elusive volume and took it down to inspect it.

"Wuthering Heights," he read out loud. 

It had been a much-loved favorite of Grace's while she stayed at the castle; he hoped that it would help with the idea that was rapidly taking shape in his mind. 




Dark Impulse Ch. 03



His spirits, which had been down all morning, were lifted by these thoughts. He glanced at his watch, and saw that it was 10am. He had to get moving in order to catch his flight at noon.

He rushed down the stairs with his duffel bag, nearly bumping into Gerde at the bottom. He gave her Gran's number in New Orleans in case of an emergency, and stroked the baby's cheek before putting on his jacket.

"Gabriel."

Gabriel turned around to Gerde, his hand on the doorknob. 

"Good luck with everything. I mean that."

He nodded, then gave her a smile. "Thanks a lot, Gerde."

* * * 

After Gabriel left, Gerde went on with her normal routine of tidying the castle where it was needed. At one point, she needed to go to the market for supplies, so she took the opportunity to take the baby along for a nice stroll around the town.

When she returned a while later, it was noon. As she took off her coat, she noticed that the voice-mail indicator light was flashing. The number on the Caller ID was blocked out, and she warily pushed the "Play" button.

Feminine, heavy breathing. Gerde began to press the "Delete Message" button on the panel, convinced that it was a crank call, when a heartbreaking sob rose from the tape and stalled her.

Grace? Is that you?

The recorded message had no answer for her; the breathing and sobs continued for another minute or so, until the connection was severed with a hard click. She hadn't said a word, but she didn't have to; the message was clear. Gerde could feel the pain that came from the other side of the line in waves, and for the fourth time that day, she felt the sting of tears in her eyes.

Why didn't you say anything? What are you going through to feel such agony?

She checked the time of the call, and sighed in frustration; she had missed talking to Grace by less than half an hour. 

If only I had been here when you called. But would you have talked to me if I had answered?

She checked the Caller ID again, but there was no way for her to know where the call originated from. With a sigh, she dialed Gabriel's cell phone. It rung three times before a recorded message came on, stating that his phone was turned off. 

He must be on the plane by now.

"Damn it!" Gerde shouted angrily, and the baby started to cry in response. She rushed to unstrap her daughter from the stroller, rocking the baby in her arms to soothe her cries. 

Gerde murmured a lullaby to her in German, and the baby soon fell asleep. She put the baby back in the stroller, and then sat down in a nearby chair; she was left alone with her thoughts, her hands pressed tightly against her closed eyes. 

Gabriel, you must find her, and soon.



Dark Impulse Ch. 04



In the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, while soaring through the clouds, Gabriel had a dream.

* * * 

He awoke to total blackness. He was naked, crouching in the depths of what appeared to be a cave. Panic seized him. For a moment, he remembered his experience on the Munich case seven years before; he feared that he had become a beast again. 

But deep down, he knew that it could not be true. He was dreaming; he felt himself swimming just below the surface of consciousness, and he knew that he could leave this place anytime he wanted.

Not yet; I want to see what this dream has in store for me. I want to learn its secrets. I want the experience.

He crawled in the darkness, finding his way along the rocks by touch. The cave turned out to be a labyrinth of stone, with tunnels interlocking in an endless embrace. 

After some time, Gabriel began to feel a deep despair. The maze was too complex for him to escape. He felt hopeless, like a failed experiment in a lab.

"Gabriel."

It was Grace's voice, calling to him like a siren's song. It had been so long since he'd heard her, and he trembled in response. It was the beacon of light that he needed to navigate out of these dark caverns. 

"Gracie, keep talking to me!"

The tunnel in which he was crawling began to open up, and Gabriel was soon able to stand to his full height. He began to run.

"Gabriel, come to me."

He was panting in the darkness, allowing her voice to lead him. His thigh scraped against the wall, drawing blood. He didn't care; all his concentration was on following the trail that Grace provided. 

"Follow the light."

In the distance, Gabriel saw a bright glimmer and went for it. The stone floor became a flight of stairs, and he rushed up them two at a time. The higher he climbed, the more illuminated the cave became.

"Gracie, where are you?"

He reached the top of the staircase, and the end of his journey. Or so he thought.

"I'm here, Gabriel. Turn the corner."

He did, and was blinded by the light. 

* * * 

"Sir? Sir? I'm sorry to wake you, but we're going to be landing soon."

The flight attendant looked slightly embarrassed, and Gabriel realized that it may have taken a while to wake him up. The evasive eyes of some of the other passengers confirmed this as he glanced at the surrounding seats. He hoped that he didn't talk in his sleep.

"Thanks a lot, and sorry that I was so difficult to wake."

She smiled at him, her cheeks flushed. She leisurely looked him up and down in a way he was familiar with, breathlessly replying, "It was my pleasure."

Gabriel smiled politely in response, and then she was gone. He turned to the window, his thoughts on the dream. He didn't even try to analyze the significance of it; he only knew that it meant that he was getting closer, and that he needed to continue.

Within minutes the plane landed at Washington Dulles, and soon afterwards he sailed through the passport and customs checkpoints. He then exchanged his marks for dollars and was on his way to the pay phones. 

When he finally found an unoccupied phone, he retrieved a business card from his jacket pocket. It was for Mosely's office phone at the CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia. 

Gabriel and Mosely had managed to keep in touch over the years since their adventure in France. Although Mosely had made it clear to him that he didn't approve of Gabriel's treatment of Grace during that time, and that he wasn't willing to help patch things up between the two of them, their friendship remained steadfast. 

He dialed the number, hoping that despite Mosely's misgivings over his relationship with Grace, he'd relent and agree to assist him once he realized the serious nature of the matter. 

"Agent Mosely's office. To whom am I speaking?"

He cleared his throat, trying to sound professional. "Hello, this is Gabriel Knight. I'm an associate of Mosely's. Is he available? Please, it's urgent." 

"One moment, please."

He set his watch to the local time while he waited. 2pm. He had been in the air for about 8 hours from Munich, and factoring in the 6-hour time difference between Germany and the East Coast...

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mose! Nice to hear your voice again, buddy. It's been a while."

"Gabe, you wanker! How the hell are you?"

"I'm great, thanks. Listen, Mose. I'm here in D.C. right now; I've just arrived."

"Really? That's super! Just give me about half an hour and I can be right there to pick you up, and you can crash at my place..."

"Um, that's not really possible, Mose. I've got a connecting flight in about an hour and a half, so I'm afraid I'm just passing through on my way back to New Orleans."

"Oh, crap. I'm glad that you called, though. Even though it was just to let me know that you were in town. I've missed you, buddy."

"Me too, but I'm afraid that this isn't entirely a social call. Could you come over here to Dulles and meet me before my next flight? We need to talk, and I'd rather not go into details over the phone."

Mosely's voice sobered instantly. "All right. I can meet you in 30 minutes like I said before. Meet me at Smokey Joe's cafe, which is close to the Domestic Flights terminal. Since you're heading that way anyway for your next flight, it should be easy to spot. I'll see you then."

Gabriel picked up his duffel and walked towards the cafe-bar. He ordered himself a cup of fresh-brewed coffee, and patiently waited for Mosely. 

He noticed that there was a group of middle-aged men in the corner of the establishment, gathered around the television. Judging by their colorful choice of attire - Hawaiian shirts, cargo shorts and Birkenstock sandals worn with socks - they were all tourists, undoubtedly on their way to someplace tropical. 

On a hunch, he decided to move closer to the group. He sat at a small table behind them and listened. 

"I saw the report this morning, and Jesus Christ, the blood was everywhere! Whoever the poor bastard was, he didn't have a chance. The theory going around is that the guy was taking a walk around Battery Park, and suddenly someone comes, attacks and dismembers him while he's still standing! What kind of a world do we live in today, where stuff like that can happen in the blink of an eye? I weep for the future of this country, I really do."

The other guy spoke up. "What makes you so sure that it was a person who did this, Gene? The medical examiner also said that the puncture wounds were unlike anything he's ever seen, that they reminded him of those shows on the Discovery channel, in fact. It could have been some kind of animal."

Gene scoffed at his companion. "Wake up, Barry! A wild animal in New York City? Ha ha ha! If that's true, which it's not, the only place it could have come from is Central Park. The park is shut up tighter than a drum after dark because of all the late-night attacks and muggings, and automatically that includes the Zoo, genius! An animal? Come on! Only men are sick enough to do this kind of thing!"

Gabriel had engaged in this kind of discussion before, long ago, and he wasn't in the mood to continue listening. The news was on television, he noticed, but the volume was turned down. For a moment, he watched the images on the screen without seeing anything interesting. He took a sip of his coffee, which had cooled during his eavesdropping. 

Then he saw something that made his blood freeze in his veins and the tepid liquid stick in his throat. He coughed hard before he spit into a napkin. He gestured to the waitress behind the bar, who was looking at him with concern.

"Could you turn that up, please?"

She did, and to Gabriel's horror, he was watching the news coverage of the shocking murder in New York. It was everything that he'd overheard and more. He swayed in his chair as he struggled to listen to the broadcast.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we've found out the identity of the victim. We've just received the results of the dental record search, and his name was Travis Cooper, a billionaire oil tycoon from Lubbock, Texas. Sources say that Mr. Cooper was in New York to attend a business meeting of Anami Enterprises, which is one of the fastest-growing defense contractors in the country."

Since the beginning of the report, Gabriel felt himself experiencing an empathic overload. His skin felt as if it was melting, falling away from his bones. 

He rested his cheek against the cool wood of the table, his chest pumping like bellows, his eyes still fixed on the screen. He couldn't look away from the images in front of him; the corpse, and the picture of how the victim had looked in life.

Two different sides of the same man. The live version was infinitely better than the dead.

"Rumor has it that Cooper had allegedly tried to instigate a hostile takeover of the business, with himself as the next recipient, but this and other allegations have been denied by David Anami, the founder and CEO."

Gabriel's vision had blurred during his fit, but his eyes focused intently on the man in charge of the corporation. He raised his head to get a better view. 

He saw a robust, confident middle-aged man. Japanese, but with a British accent. He wore a gold wedding band. Tall, probably 6 foot 3 inches. Well-built, with an immaculate taste in clothes. Loaded with money.

Could he be involved in this somehow? According to the news, the body was found only a few blocks away from the company's headquarters.

The following clip showed Anami giving a statement to the press, his eyes making direct contact with the camera.

"It is true that Cooper and I didn't always see eye to eye, but he had a sixth sense when it came to business and was an invaluable part of my organization. He was a fine man, and he will be truly missed."

Gabriel's inspection stalled at Anami's face. He was very handsome, and he possessed a youthful air despite his age, which he estimated to be around 50. His hair was mostly black, with a bold streak of white on one side, and his eyes...

Anami's gray eyes were troubled, brimming with anguish. Gabriel's own eyes widened with realization. 

God. Aside from the color, they're almost a mirror image of Grace's. They must be connected somehow. What is he to her? A relative? Close friend?

He stood up from his chair on shaky legs, left a tip for the waitress and began to leave at the same moment that Mosely arrived. 

The years had been good to him; his strict training for the CIA had seriously trimmed him down and firmed him up, leaving him in top shape to catch the bad guys. He was still balding, though. Mosely smiled warmly at the sight of his old friend.

"Hey there, Bud! Sorry I'm late, but don't tell me that you were about to stand me up after all these years!"

Gabriel nodded in the direction of the television. 

"Have you heard about this?"

Mosely glanced into the cafe just in time to hear the last of the report.

"Travis Cooper was 75 years old, and he leaves behind one son and a young granddaughter. The estimated worth of his estate is $1,500,000,000."

Mosely let out a low whistle. "Shoot, if I had that much money, I damn sure wouldn't go walking about without a bodyguard or at least a car parked nearby. Of course I've heard about it; the entire Agency is in an uproar. Despite the fact that it's only been a few hours since Cooper was discovered, the old man's son is apparently going apeshit about the supposed incompetence of the NYPD and how they don't know anything about what happened. As a result of this vigilante mentality, he - and his many powerful and rich friends - are breaking out the pitchforks and nooses to try and get everyone's asses in gear to find whoever did it. They're also planning to bring the FBI in as well. Langley is already bending over backwards for these bastards."

Gabriel let out a snort of disgust. "Christ Almighty. Never mind all the normal folks who get lost and murdered every day; as soon as a rich person bites the bullet, everybody enforcement suddenly rushes in to make sure that justice is done."

Mosely frowned at Gabriel's sarcasm. "What crawled up your butt? That's not fair, and you know it. We do want to solve every case that's put to us, but unfortunately that's the way things are. We're like puppets; someone high up pulls the strings and we must dance."

Gabriel sighed, rubbing his temple. His experience in the cafe had wiped him out.

"Damn, Mose, I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind and I'm a bit irritable right now."

Mosely smiled and lightly smacked him on the back. "Well, that's what I'm here for. You did want to talk, didn't you? Come on, let's walk a bit. You look like you need it."

They walked through the security checkpoint, and continued until they found an airport lounge near Gabriel's gate where they could sit and chat while they waited for his plane. 

Mosely looked at his friend thoughtfully. Gabriel appeared to be very tense, and he was as white as a sheet. Mosely remembered that he had seen Gabriel's psychic abilities firsthand back in France, when they were scouting a crime scene.

He leaned forward, meeting Gabriel's eyes. "What did you see?"

Gabriel was startled by the question, having forgotten that his friend was trained to be observant to every detail.

He wet his suddenly dry lips. "It wasn't a matter of seeing this time, Mose. In the bar I felt as if I was being attacked, as if I was dying in the same way as Cooper."

Mosely felt sweat trickling down his neck, despite the mild weather. 

"Christ! What the hell happened, Knight?"

Gabriel closed his eyes, trying to recall the sensation and put it into words. 

"My body felt like the wax that drips from a burning candle; I was consumed by the heat. I felt tiny pinpricks on my skin at first, and then they got larger. Deeper. Drawing blood from my body, tearing apart my flesh, shattering my bones, racking my brain."

He opened his eyes to meet Mose's horrified stare. 

A long moment passed before Mosely could think of another question. He was scared shitless, and he didn't enjoy the effect the vision had on his friend, either.

"Gabriel, could you tell what it was? Animal or human?"

Mosely released his breath explosively once he'd gotten out the words; he didn't even know that he'd been holding it. 

Gabriel took out a handkerchief from his jacket and wiped his brow, breathing deeply as he recovered from the shock of the vision. His voice shook with the strain, the frustration that he felt.

"I'm not sure. Both. Neither. Damn it, I don't know!"

They fell silent again, and after a while Mosely glanced across the small lounge table at his companion. Gabriel appeared to have gotten over the whole vision thing, but clearly something else was going on; Mose could feel it. He knew that Gabriel wanted to ask something of him, but he sensed that his pal was reluctant to come out with it. He had a feeling that he wouldn't like what he was about to hear.

"Spit it out, Gabriel. What else did you want to discuss?"

Gabriel leaned forward with a sigh. "Mose, have you heard from Grace at all?"

Mosely shut his eyes with a sound of exasperation. 

"God damn it, I knew it. Damn it, Knight! Hasn't she been through enough?"

Gabriel nodded, his expression grim. Yes, she has.

"It's not what you think, Mose. It's an emergency."

Mosely's eyes narrowed sharply on his friend. "Oh, sure. What could this little 'emergency' be? You suddenly got an itch in your crotch and you need someone to scratch it? Someone who you could use and then throw away afterwards, pretend that she doesn't exist? I won't let you hurt Grace again!"

Gabriel's patience, which was already wearing thin from what happened in the cafe, completely vanished. He slammed his fist onto the table top.

"I don't have time for this shit, Mose! You want to know why I'm asking? Here it is. Today I had not one, but two dreams concerning Gracie. Not the wet kind, you pervert, but the REAL kind that I told you about, the serious kind! And now I've found out about this killing in New York, and I am convinced that she's somehow involved, or is close to someone who is involved! She's in danger! God damn it, I want to help! For once, I want to help the woman I love instead of pushing her away, and I won't let you stop me!"

He sat back in his chair, his hands shaking with tension.

Mosely was silent for a time as he slowly digested this information. He searched Gabriel's face for a long moment before he finally gave a tense nod.

"What do you want me to do?"

Gabriel let out a sigh of relief, and relaxed in his chair.

"For starters, I need to know if you've heard from her since France."

Mosely's face looked stricken. "Not since the last night of the case, when we went into the underground caves. Not a peep."

Gabriel let his disappointment show in his face. He'd hoped that Grace had somehow remained in contact with Mosely. Instead, she had completely cut herself off from the entire gang. 

"Damn. Mose, I need you to find her for me. Before I flew over, I wasn't sure about where she might be, but now I'm certain that she's in New York somewhere. I need to know what she's doing for a living, where she lives..."

He trailed off when he felt the hot tide of uncertainty and dread within him, and he fumbled with a loose thread on his jacket. He cleared his throat. 

"She, um, she may be married by now. I need to know about the husband as well, if that's the case. Who he is, where he's from, what he does. I also want to know about this David Anami character if you can manage it. I'm sure that your people are going to be digging into that matter anyway, so it shouldn't be too much trouble."

Gabriel took out a pad of paper and pen from his duffel.

"I'm going to visit Gran for at least a few days, until I can figure out what to do next. You can contact me at this number. When you find something, let me know. Day or night, I mean it."

Mosely cleared his throat. "Will do."

Gabriel heard the announcement that his flight was boarding. He stood up from his chair, and reached his hand out to Mosely.

"Thanks a lot, Mose. I really appreciate you doing this for me."

Mosely took Gabriel's hand, shaking it firmly. "It's not just for you; it's also for Grace."

Gabriel smiled. "Of course it is. I'll see you around."

He was about to turn and leave, but Mosely didn't let go of his hand. Gabriel turned back to face his friend, a question in his eyes.

Mosely looked torn. "I just need to know if I'm doing the right thing, Bud. Did you mean what you said before? Do you really love Grace?"

Gabriel swallowed hard, then nodded. "I do love her, very much. I would cut off my right arm to see her again, to help her out of this mess."

Mosely sighed, and then gave Gabriel a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Well, then. I wish you the best of luck, and I'll do whatever I can to help."

Gabriel thanked him again, and Mosely stood up and gave his friend a big hug. He swatted Gabriel on the back when his flight was announced again.

"You'd better get going. I'll let you know as soon as I find something. Go on."

He boarded his plane moments before it left the gate. As it began its trip down the runway, Gabriel was confident that Mosely would find out everything that he could on Grace's whereabouts and her new life.

The question is, am I prepared for the answers that are coming my way? In order to give all the assistance to Grace that I can, I have to be.

The plane left the ground in a rush of heat and light; Gabriel stared out of his window, searching the clouds to see if they held any clues to what lay ahead on his quest.

A storm was brewing on the horizon.



Dark Impulse Ch. 05



Columbia University,

Department of Art History and Archeology

New York City

March 30, 2001 - One Week Later

Grace stood at the window, her eyes fixed on the street below. She absently watched the ebb and flow of people as they went about their business, seeing everything and nothing. It began to rain, and with each drop that hit the pavement, the same thought echoed through her mind. 

I can't believe that I called him. What would have happened if he'd answered?

"Dr. Nakimura?"

Startled, she quickly pulled herself out of her reverie and turned away from the rainy windowpane. One of her students, Carrie, was watching her with a nervous expression from where she sat, and Grace felt her cheeks flush. Thankfully, they were alone in Grace's office; if her daydreaming had occurred in the crowded auditorium where she usually conducted her classes, it would have been greatly unprofessional, not to mention embarrassing.

Giving herself a mental shake, Grace managed a sheepish grin and returned to her chair. "I apologize for that, Carrie. What was I talking about before I drifted away?"

Carrie cleared her throat and reviewed her notes. "You were discussing the concept of Humanism and its effects on the Italian Renaissance."

Recognition dawned on Grace. "Okay, yes. Humanism is considered to be the most significant intellectual movement of the Renaissance. As its name implies, humanism was a philosophy that was characterized by its blending of the concern of the history and actions of all human beings and their influence in the world, and religious duty. This was a major shift from the view that was presented during the Middle Ages, when the focus was only on religion; the people's duty to God and the preparation of the soul for the afterlife."

Grace glanced at Carrie and saw that she had the younger woman's undivided attention. She continued. "The humanistic movement greatly shaped the art of the Renaissance; the entire period was devoted to the celebration of human nature, intelligence and individuality as well as the human body itself. The Italians, in their search for inspiration for this new way of thinking, resurrected the ancient Greek and Roman texts; many works during this period were based on the classical sculptures and frescoes as well."

Carrie's pen flew on the paper as she spoke, and Grace watched her with amusement as she remembered herself at that age. She'd been an entirely different person then, ages before she'd ever heard of a Shadow Hunter. 

While observing her student, a feeling of envy rose within her, taking her by surprise and giving her pause while she tried to figure out why. She hadn't wanted to go back to that time in her life; in fact, she was relieved that all those years of school were behind her. What she envied about Carrie was her innocence. 

Grace wished that her slate could be washed clean; that she could erase every moment that she'd spent with him from her memory, the man that she couldn't bear to think about. All those memories remained with her, haunting her. They were enough to fill a lifetime. A thousand lifetimes.

But how can I wish that I'd never met him, when he gave me my greatest joy?

The sounds of scribbling had stopped, and Grace snapped out of her trance. She took a deep breath before continuing, avoiding Carrie's concerned gaze.

"Let's get down to the major players of humanistic representation during the Renaissance. In chronological order, Giotto was one of the first artists to portray nature realistically in his frescoes, setting the tone for the many painters that followed."

Grace felt a tightening sensation in her skull from an oncoming migraine, and she struggled to repeat the main points of her lecture. She forced herself to push on.

"Donatello was one of the first sculptors who attempted to capture the dramatic art form of the human body in his works. Afterward, the three most famous artists of the period came, the "triple threat," which I like to call them: Leonardo Da Vinci, Michelangelo and Raphael. They were the ones who..."

At the sound of her son's name from her own lips, Grace's week-long anxiety once again overwhelmed her. She stopped in mid-sentence, and Carrie looked up from her notes. 

Grace glanced at her watch. "I'm sorry, Carrie, but I'm not feeling well right now. Besides, our time is up anyway. Have you gotten enough information? Is there anything else that you'd like cleared up?"

Carrie closed her notebook and stood. "I have more than enough to go on. Thank you very much for your help, Doctor. I apologize for not being able to attend the actual lecture last week, but..."

Grace held up a hand. "I understand that you needed to be with your grandmother at the time, Carrie. I never judged you for not showing up."

Carrie let out a sigh of relief. "You wouldn't believe how much that sets me at ease. Most professors wouldn't care that I had a family emergency; their egos would demand that every seat had to be filled and woe to anyone who has higher priorities than showing up to their lectures."

Grace nodded in agreement, having worked with such types herself. "Well, unlike most professors, I like to believe that I have a working heart. How is your grandmother, by the way?"

"She's doing much better, thank you. The chemo hit her pretty hard at first, but she's slowly beginning to feel like herself again."

Grace picked up a pen from her desk and toyed with it. "Will the treatment be able to shrink the tumor enough for the doctors to operate on it?"

"Her doctors are all very optimistic about the procedure."

Carrie was finished gathering her stuff and putting on her coat. Grace got up from her desk to walk her out. "I truly hope that everything works out for her, Carrie."

"Thank you, Doctor, for everything."

Grace gave Carrie her warmest smile as she opened her office door.

"You're welcome, but do me a favor, would you? Don't tell the others about my helping you out; it would really destroy my reputation as a cast-iron bitch. It took a couple of years for me to build that persona, and one word of my good deed would topple it all down like a house of cards."

Carrie laughed. "Don't worry! Your secret is safe with me. Bye, bye!"

"Okay, bye now. Be careful out there, and I'll see you in class next week."

After Carrie left, Grace returned to her desk and pressed the intercom button for her secretary.

"Yes, Dr. Nakimura?"

"Evelyn, would you please bring me a cup of chamomile tea? I'd like to warm myself up before I go out in that rain."

"Right away."

Grace paced around her office, her arms wrapped around herself. The chill in her bones ran deep, and it had nothing to do with the weather. She'd been avoiding her husband over the past week, trying to delay the inevitable discussion that they so desperately needed to have. 

David, perhaps sensing that something was wrong between them, had moved into the guest bedroom and began spending more time at the office instead of at home. She had been both saddened and relieved by the gesture; she felt as if she needed more time to process her feelings and to find someone whom she could trust to analyze the evidence that she'd collected.

She picked up the phone and dialed, her heart in her throat.

"This is the Anami residence. How may I help you?" 

It was the family maid, Miyuki. In Grace's opinion, her personality had a lot to be desired, but her manners and cleaning skills more than made up for it. 

"Hello, Miyuki. Let me speak with Debbie, please."

"Yes, Madam."

A few seconds later, Debbie, the nanny, came on the line. "Mrs. Anami?"

Grace remembered that when she interviewed her for the position two years before, Debbie had reminded her so much of Rebecca Knight, Gabriel's energetic and feisty grandmother, that the other applicants didn't stand a chance. Debbie was like the Southern equivalent of Mrs. Doubtfire, full of wit and charm, and Grace just had to have her. And since Debbie had four grandchildren of her own in the city, Grace believed that she was more than capable of caring for her little boy.

"Hello, Debbie. How is Rafe doing?"

"He's just fine, ma'am. He's in his room with his coloring books. Today I took him to the Central Park Zoo, and afterwards we went out to lunch."

Grace closed her eyes, forcing out her last question.

"Debbie, has Mr. Anami had any contact with Rafe today?" 

"No ma'am, not today. He left for the office shortly after you did, and he hasn't returned yet. Why do you ask?" 

Grace's mind struggled to find a suitable lie. "Well, as you know, Rafe's birthday is coming up. So right about now we're searching for clues as to what our son would like on his special day; perhaps you may be able to help me with that later. Anyway, I was concerned that Mr. Anami would try and ask Rafe directly what he wants. You know him, he always goes straight to the point. I, however, want my little man to be surprised when he opens his presents. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

Debbie made a "mmm-hmm" sound, her Southern accent reaching Grace through the phone and making her smile despite the butterflies in her stomach.

"Oh, I understand completely. Don't worry, Mrs. Anami. I won't let him interrogate little Rafey, not on my watch."

"Thanks a lot, Debbie. Put my baby on the phone for a moment, would you?"

Grace waited for her son to come to the phone, feelings of guilt lancing through her. It was a lame excuse, the story about the presents. The way it sounded to her own ears, she may as well have screamed at Debbie to lock Rafe in his room to save him from his monster father. 

I've put off talking with David for long enough. We're going to take care of this today, so help me. 

"Mommy?"

"Hi, sweetheart. How are you?" 

The false cheer that she'd injected into her voice tasted like ash in her mouth, and she could hear her blood pounding in her ears.

"What's wrong?"

He was so intuitive at such a young age, so much that it scared her at times. She immediately dropped the pretense; she should have known that she couldn't fool him, even over the phone.

"I'm really down today, baby. I needed to call and see if you were okay."

Evelyn came in with the tea that Grace had requested, setting it down on her desk. Grace mouthed "thank you" to her before returning her attention to the phone. She sipped the herbal brew, sighing as the warmth enveloped her. 

"I had that dream again last night." 

Rafe said it matter-of-factly, but with more than a little trepidation. Grace felt her heart kick in her chest at the slight tremble in her son's voice. It was as if he were bracing himself, expecting his nightmare to come true at any moment.

"Tell me about it, honey. You'll feel better for sharing it, I promise."

He took a deep breath before speaking. 

"I am standing in a clearing in the middle of nowhere. All is dark, yet I can still see. I sense that I'm being watched by many eyes. I hear you shout to me in the distance, 'Rafe, stay away! It's not safe here.' But I can't help but come closer. You're afraid that I'll get hurt, but somehow I feel safe. The sun rises, and I see two men facing each other in combat. Their faces are in shadow, but I know that one of them is my father. The light blinds me, and I stumble to the ground. You scream. I look for you from the spot where I've fallen, but I can't see you."

Rafe paused for a long moment and Grace sat motionless, transfixed by the present tense of his words. Her tea grew cold as she gripped the phone tightly, waiting for him to continue. When he spoke again, his voice was filled with wonder. 

"Suddenly, a large hand appears in front of my face. I look up, and I see a man that I've never seen before. The sun is at his back, so I don't see his face. 'Don't be afraid,' he says in a voice that is low and soothing. I do not fear him. I cannot fear him. I reach for his hand, but I wake up before I can make contact. What does it all mean, Mommy?"

Grace bit her tongue, trying to keep a sob from escaping her throat. She felt as if she would choke if she spoke. She knew exactly what the last part of Rafe's dream meant, and her soul wept.

What have I done?

After a minute, she managed to get a grip on her emotions so she could respond.

"Um, I'm not sure, sweetheart. But I can tell you how we can find out. We should keep a journal handy so we can write down the details of your dreams as they come to you. If the dream changes in any way to reveal more information, we can make a note of it and see if anything else comes to light. How does that sound?"

"It sounds good. Can we go out later and get one?"

"Of course, baby. I'll tell you what: I'm going to leave the school now, and after I take care of a few things I'll come home to get you so we can buy one right away."

"Okay, Mom. I'll see you in a while."

"Rafe?"

"Yes?"

Grace felt a tear slide down her cheek, followed by another. 

"I love you. You know that, don't you?"

"I know. I love you too. Bye."

"Bye, baby."

The soft click of the other end of the line shutting down echoed in her brain. Grace let the phone slip from her fingers and back into its cradle. Her vision blurred as more tears threatened to fall, but she refused to let them win. She rose from her desk and gathered her things to leave for the day, determined to see David.

After I clear things up with him, maybe I'll find the strength to deal with other matters. Maybe.

She opened one of her desk drawers and retrieved a tiny cellular phone. She pressed one of the programmed speed-dial buttons before holding it up to her ear.

"Hello?" 

It was Ryu, her personal limo driver. While Grace taught class or worked in her office, he waited in the nearby parking garage until she was ready to be driven home or anywhere else she wanted. That was his job, driving and waiting. It sounded incredibly boring to her, and she wondered if he was in agony with all that time on his hands. But if he was ever dissatisfied with his duties, he never let on.

"Ryu, it's me. I'm ready to leave now. Have the car ready for me at the usual corner, please."

"Right away, Madam."

Grace took a final look at her office, hoping that she didn't forget anything. It was 5pm on a Friday, so she didn't want to have to come back if she'd left something important behind. Once she was sure that she had everything that she needed, she put on her coat, grabbing her briefcase and laptop before walking out the door.

In the waiting room, she regarded Evelyn, her personal secretary and good friend. She was sitting at her desk, completely absorbed in a book. Her long, curly hair fell in ringlets about her pretty face, and her medium-brown skin glowed with health. The expression on her face, however, worried Grace. She looked seriously stressed out.

"Got any plans for the weekend, Evie?" 

Evelyn looked up from her desk, where she had a stack of textbooks open and ready for study. Her full lips curved into a smile as her eyes swept over them before addressing Grace. 

"You're kidding, right? Girl, I'd be lucky if I had plans for next year at this rate! How on earth did you manage to do this, and for two of them simultaneously? I feel like I'm going to lose my mind with just this one!"

Grace smiled briefly, remembering her own studying frenzy when she was earning her own doctorates. Unlike herself, Evelyn chose to wait until her son was a bit older before returning to school, and as a divorced mother without the support and means that Grace had been fortunate enough to have, it was extremely difficult. 

She walked up to where Evelyn sat and squeezed her shoulder in encouragement. Evelyn's hazel-brown eyes met Grace's darker ones, and the two women grinned.

"It'll get easier, hon. I promise you that it will. How is little Leon taking it?"

Evelyn sighed. "I wish that I could say that it's all sunshine and smiles, but it's not. He misses me, and it doesn't help that his father lives all the way in Queens near La Guardia. That's one hell of a commute for me to drop him off and pick him up every day." 

Grace's brow furrowed in thought. "Evie, you can't go on like this or else you'll burn out before the semester's over. Listen, I have an idea. Bring Leon to the penthouse on Park Avenue - no, wait a second for me to finish - bring him over and Debbie will take care of both him as well as Rafe while we ride to work together. She'll take great care of them, and they'll have nice field trips to museums and walks in Central Park. At the end of the day, you'll come home with me, hang out, pick up your son. Think about how wonderful it would be for both Leon and Rafe to spend time with each other since they're the same age! You were worried about Leon not having any play friends, remember?"

Evelyn's face was skeptical. "I was worried, yes, but what about Leon's father? I definitely have to discuss this with him. I appreciate your offer, but... I hope that you won't be offended, Grace, but I'm not sure that I feel comfortable with my son spending time in your posh surroundings before coming home to my two-bedroom apartment in the East Village. I'm afraid that this arrangement might spoil him somehow or make him feel inferior because your son has such a pretty house full of toys while he has only a small collection of Hot Wheels and baseball cards."

Grace sighed. She'd expected this reaction from Evelyn, who had a great sense of pride and was reluctant to ask for or accept help from anyone. 

"Just think about it, okay? Please. I didn't mean any harm by offering, you know that. I just want you to make it to your goal without feeling overwhelmed by the pressure. If eliminating the daily commute would help free up time that you can use for either study or quality time with Leon, go for it. As for Leon's, or I should say your feelings about my house, that's for you and he to decide. I think that he knows how lucky he is to have you as a mother, that you love him and that you do the best that you can to provide for him. No one can beat that."

Grace squeezed Evelyn's hand. "Just take your time and let me know. Have a good weekend, and I'll see you on Monday."

"Grace?"

She spun on her heel, turning towards her friend. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Grace smiled and left the room.

* * * 

The limo weaved its way through the streets of Manhattan, its sleek blackness drawing many admiring glances from passing pedestrians. 

Grace leaned against the plush leather seat, watching the world pass from the safe and anonymous haven that was her tinted-glass window. She could look out, but none could look in. Shielding one's emotions; it was an ideal philosophy that she'd taken to heart when she had first returned to New York from abroad five years before, married to one of the world's richest businessmen and mother to a newborn child. She'd learned to shroud herself in mystery, to keep everyone guessing as to what lay beneath her elegant and cool exterior. 

Everyone except those who had been close to her, that is. She was afraid now of letting her control slip, of revealing herself to those who needed to remain clueless about the contents of her soul. She was afraid of becoming an open book, with scandalous secrets just waiting to be read by the wrong person.

This is Gabriel Knight. I'm not in right now...

She gasped aloud, alarming her driver. "Are you alright, Madam?"

Grace brought a hand to her forehead, and was surprised to find moisture there. She met Ryu's eyes in the rear-view mirror, and she forced a reassuring smile.

"Yes, I'm fine, Ryu. I'm sorry if I startled you."

"That's quite alright. We have a few minutes before we reach the building. Would you mind if I put on some music?"

Grace welcomed the suggestion; she needed something to take her mind off of its present course. "No, not at all. Please do."




Dark Impulse Ch. 05



Taking his eyes briefly from the road, Ryu searched the radio for a good station. A lovely, haunting melody paused his efforts, and he glanced back at her for a sign of her approval. She nodded, and settled back in her seat as the music washed over her. 

All alone on my knees I prayFor the strength to stay awayIn and out, out and in you goI feel your fire, then I lose my self control

How can I ease the painWhen I know you're coming back again?How can I ease the pain in my heart...

Grace's own heart picked up in speed as she listened. She was afraid of getting burned again by Gabriel's fire. At the moment, she felt as if her emotions were stacked and bundled like kindling, just waiting for the first deadly spark to set them ablaze.

Every time that I let you inYou take away something deep withinA fool for love is a fool for painBut I refuse to love you again...

Her eyes squeezed shut during the repeat of the chorus, and she felt herself sink deeper into the ballad. The singer's voice was exceptional, and Grace felt as if her soul would rise out of her body as the song reached its climax.

If it's not love you're coming forTell me, baby, why you're here knock-knock-knockin' at my doorI can't take it no more, no more, no more, no more, babyGive me all or nothing at all!

Grace had been so absorbed in the music that it took a moment before she realized that the limo had stopped. As the song ended, she opened her eyes and met Ryu's curious gaze. 

"We have arrived, Madam." 



Dark Impulse Ch. 06



Anami Enterprises

Battery Park City

Grace took the elevator up to the 60th floor, where her husband had his office. The ride was short and swift; the motion made her stomach lurch as the numbers ticked away on the electronic display panel. She placed her fingertips against her temples, trying to massage away the tension headache that pulsed with her blood. It didn't work.

A faint beep sounded at her destination, and she slowly stepped out of the lift and into the elegant foyer. Her high heels echoed on the marble floor, and she realized that the place was deserted. She looked at her watch and saw that it was 6pm.

In the distance she heard "Winter" from Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons," and she searched for the source. As she walked further into the labyrinth of rooms and halls, she heard the soft murmurs of male voices. A moment later, she saw two men standing in a long corridor. Neither of them saw her. Grace recognized the wide breadth of David's shoulders from behind. He was talking to a male assistant. She approached slowly, hoping to overhear the conversation.

"I want the jet to be ready to fly within the hour. No exceptions. As soon as you can, call Liam and let him know that tomorrow I'm going to call him from the Savoy when he's hopefully finished with his out-of-town assignment. Don't forget to do this; it's very important. I'll get back to you once I reach London."

"Yes, Mr. Anami." 

The assistant hurried away, and finally Grace was alone with him. She cleared her throat, causing David to turn around. At the sight of her, his eyes held a mixture of affectionate warmth for his wife and an overall wariness of the personal strain that they've been under. 

"Darling, what a surprise."

Grace drew closer to him, allowing him to see the hurt in her eyes. 

"Why are you leaving, and why didn't you tell me?"

David sighed. "Something came up, and I didn't think that we were exactly on speaking terms these days."

She reached out and touched his arm, and he briefly stiffened at the contact before relaxing. "We really need to talk, David. This week has been sheer hell for me, and by the looks of it, you haven't been faring any better."

He took a deep breath before releasing it. "Grace, can it wait until I get back? I'm actually expecting a call any minute for the..."

Grace interrupted him, her eyes hot with frustration and anger. It was as if the many emotions that she'd experienced over the past week had come together to form a huge tidal wave, a force of nature that could not be reasoned with or prevented from crashing over whatever lay in its path. She dropped her hand from his arm as she spoke, balling it into a fist at her side.

"No, it cannot wait! In case you've forgotten, David, I am your wife. I think that I deserve a few minutes of your time."

He stared at her, his rugged features frozen with surprise. He hadn't expected her to react in such a way. In fact, it was the very first time that he'd seen his wife so visibly upset. 

"Forgive me, Grace. Of course we can talk. Let's go to my office where we can sit down." 

David pulled her close to him, wrapping his arm around her and letting his hand rest on the small of her back as they walked together. Grace had a thought to pull away, but the gesture was so familiar that instead she wanted to cry where she stood. 

He led her into his spacious office and into a luxurious wing chair. He sat in another chair across from her, and she watched him move. David was usually so sure in his movements, so confident. But when she watched him now, she saw the slight tremble in his hands and the anxiety in his eyes as he cast brief glances at her, waiting for her to speak.

What is he so afraid of?

"What are you running from, David? Are you trying to escape everything that's going on because of Cooper's death, or just me?"

David's mouth fell open in shock, and he leaned forward in his chair. 

"What do you know about Cooper's death?"

Grace concentrated on keeping her voice steady as she met his eyes.

"Most of what I know, I've learned from the news reports. I need to hear the rest from you."

Realization dawned in his eyes, and he left his chair to kneel before her. 

"You found the shirt. Where is it?"

Her nails dug into the soft leather of the chair, the fear rising within her. She wasn't really afraid of David, but she wasn't sure if she could handle what she was about to hear. Deep down, she knew that she should have been a lot more afraid than she was.

"First I want to know what happened that night."

David placed his hands on her waist, his eyes pleading with her for understanding. Grace stared down at him, wondering at his desperation. She did not know how to react to it; the part of her that was the supportive wife urged her to take him into her arms and comfort him. Yet there was another part, bitter and confused, that felt vindicated by his distress. 

She searched within herself for the reason why, and came up with nothing but the sense that in all the years that she'd been married to him, the balance of power had always been in his favor. He had all the money, the influence, and their almost twenty-year age difference had given him an even greater advantage over her. 

The corners of her lips twitched as she fought an evil urge to smile at his plight. 

Well, the tables are definitely turned now, aren't they? Oh, god. What is wrong with me? Stop it, stop it, stop it!

She squeezed her eyes shut, driving away the cruelty of her thoughts. She looked again at her husband and reached out to him, cupping his face in her hand. He sighed at her touch, his eyes shining with gratitude. She raised his chin as she leaned down, bringing their faces close together.

"Tell me."

David swallowed hard. "The night that Cooper was killed, he was trying to start a coup so he could take over the company. The shareholders told Liam about what Cooper was planning, and Liam informed me. I sought out Cooper after he left the building, Grace. I had it out with him. He was such a vile, underhanded and bigoted son-of-a-bitch. I hit him, love. I couldn't control myself. He went too far, and I thrashed him so very badly..."

Grace's throat constricted as he trailed off, and she caressed his face. 

"Did you kill him, David? Please, I need to know."

His eyes reminded Grace of the gray hue of clouds before a storm. They were bottomless pools of despair, and for the life of her she could not read them.

A muscle jumped in his jaw as he spoke, his gaze piercing her. Despite the cool and controlled tone that he used, his voice made her imagine an erupting volcano, with anger exploding in all directions.

"No, I didn't kill him. I left the scene immediately after I attacked him, and when I returned a few minutes later to try and apologize so he wouldn't sue the living shit out of us and reduce us to the poorhouse, he was already dead! Christ, Grace! You can't imagine what it's like to see such horrors before your eyes! He was no longer recognizable as human, and you believe that I am capable of such an act?"

He whirled away from her, rising from the floor and striding angrily towards his massive desk and the window beyond. He stood with his back to her, one arm braced against the cool glass and covering his mouth with his other hand. His shoulders shook with remembered terror, as well as from the betrayal that he felt concerning his wife.

"I thought that you of all people would have had more faith in me, Grace. Did you intend to blackmail me, then? Were you planning to go to the police with the bloody shirt, wife? Sic them on me like dogs on a runaway fox? How could you?"

Grace left her chair and went to him. She placed her hands on his back, and he stiffened at her touch. Slowly and tenderly, she ran her hands down his spine before embracing him from behind. Her breasts pressed tightly against his back, and David began to shift uncomfortably from an inappropriate surge of arousal.

She rested her head against his back. The strength of his body and the fact that he couldn't see her gave her the courage to speak, the nerve to lie. 

"I destroyed the shirt, David. When I realized the trouble that you could be involved in, I put it in the incinerator. I don't want anything to destroy what we have built together. I don't want to lose our family." 

He didn't answer her for a long moment, and it seemed to Grace as if he were debating with himself whether or not he could trust her. She waited in silence until he let out a deep sigh before turning around to look at her. He stared into her eyes, trying to interpret what lay behind them. She let him look, reaching down to take his hand in hers. Without breaking eye contact, she raised his hand to her lips.

David's eyes darkened with passion for his wife, but inside he was torn.

"I want to believe you. I truly do."

Grace held his hand against her chest. "Can you feel my heart? Its beat is steady now, but do you have any idea how hard it was pounding this past week? I didn't know what to think, David. There are so many unresolved issues between us, and when I was confronted by the evidence that you may have been at the scene, I didn't know what to believe."

She slid her hands up to his chest, and he instinctively leaned his head towards her. She drew closer to him, her eyes shining.

"When we met in India, you were my savior. You were the light that guided me out of the darkness that was my life then, and to this day I thank you. But you are also a difficult man to understand. There's so much about you that I don't know, and often I feel as if I married a stranger."

Grace let the tears flow, and David wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. He sighed deeply as he bent over her, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair.

"What do you want to know? You seem to have something already in mind. Ask me, poppet. Whatever you want to know, I'll tell you."

The endearment made her want to cry harder while it spurred her on. She looked into his eyes and let the words go. "Why didn't you ever tell me that you were married before?"

David sucked air in through his teeth as if he'd been struck, his hands shaking where he held his wife. Grace noticed and continued to probe.

"A couple of weeks ago I found an old photograph in your desk, and it was of you and a woman named Caitlin. The two of you looked very happy, and from the rings that I saw and the fact that she was heavily pregnant, I assumed that it was a wedding photo."

He stared at the floor for several minutes before he spoke. "Yes, we were married. We were very much in love, and we were to have a child. But sadly it was not to be; a month after our wedding, she went into a very difficult labor and died along with our baby."

Grace gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth. "My god, David. I'm so sorry."

"Imagine losing the two most important people in your life at once. I was in such pain; even now I can't think back without getting sucked into it again. After they died, I tried as hard as I could to distance myself from the memories and the agony of my loss. The picture that you found was the only one that I kept of Caitlin; I destroyed the rest."

David took her hand and kissed it gently. "I never meant to keep you in the dark, Grace. Those wonderful months that we spent getting to know each other in India was the best time in my life. Being with you made me forget the ugliness of my past, if only for a while."

The sharp ringing of the office phone startled them both, and Grace wanted to throw it out of the window. David appeared to want the same thing, but he simply kissed her hand again before excusing himself to pick it up.

"This is Anami. Excellent. I'll be down presently."

David returned the phone to its cradle, and Grace knew that their time was up. She needed to say more, as if somehow she knew the chance wouldn't come again if she hesitated.

"David, there's another very important issue that we need to discuss."

He was at his desk, gathering the last of his papers and stashing them in his briefcase. He shut it with a click, and extended his free hand to her.

"Walk with me to the car, then. We can talk on the way."

Together, they navigated the elaborate maze of hallways. Grace's steps were quick and short as she struggled to keep up with David's gigantic strides. 

They entered the elevator, and she released a heart-felt sigh as David pressed the button to take them to the underground parking garage. She turned to him, and he watched her with concern in his eyes. She detected something else within their gray depths, but she couldn't pin it down. Annoyance? Dread?

"Just say it, Grace. What's bothering you?"

"I've been doing a lot of soul searching lately, David. Specifically, my thoughts have involved the circumstances of our marriage and how we came to be wed..." 

David flinched hard and immediately pressed the "Stop" button. The abrupt motion made Grace's head swim, and when he roughly grabbed her by the upper arms and pulled her to him, she felt as if her heart would stop. 

He bent over her, his enraged face just inches away from hers. "Now you will listen to me and listen well! I will never, ever grant you a divorce! Do you hear me? Never!"

Grace winced in pain from his fierce grip, and anger rose within her. 

What right does he have to put his hands on me in such a way?

She raked her nails down his hands hard, causing him to cry out and let go of her. She slapped him once, then twice even as she tried to understand his motives for attacking her. She could not, and suddenly she didn't want to try.

David stood against the wall of the elevator, trying to catch his breath. His eyes never left her face as she straightened her clothes before restarting the elevator. 

With her back to him, she positioned herself in front of the double doors as the lift continued its descent. Her entire body was tense, half expecting him to throw himself onto her. Like a cloak on a cold winter's day, she gathered her dignity about her before speaking in an icy tone.

"You bastard. How dare you touch me like that! I wasn't speaking about divorce, but your reaction, which was completely uncalled for, has certainly made me wonder what the hell I'm doing with you!"

The elevator arrived at the parking garage, and Grace was deeply relieved. Without another word, she left her husband standing where he was and entered her limo, locking the doors behind her.

From the window she watched as David stood next to his own limo, the one that would take him to JFK and the waiting jet. He stared sightlessly at Grace's black-tinted window, his face reminding her of a lost child's. While her mind still reeled with anger from their confrontation, deep within her she wanted to take him in her arms and tell him that everything would be all right.

She winced at the momentary weakness, clenching her teeth. Enough.

"Take me home, Ryu."

When they were clear of the building, Grace gently pushed the button to raise the separator between driver and passenger. As soon as it was up, she finally allowed the hot tears and the heart-wrenching sobs to escape their prison.

She cried all the way home.



Dark Impulse Ch. 07



St. George's Rare Books,

New Orleans

"Sound check, one, two, three."

Gabriel sat at one of the small tables that bordered the stage, watching absently as the band went through its warm-up before the evening crowd was due to arrive. It was 7:30pm; the show wasn't set to begin for another half an hour.

His brow furrowed in distaste. A live band for three performances a week? A full bar that serves drinks and light meals after dark while the customers browse the shelves? Jesus, this wasn't what I had in mind when I built this place from the ground up. St. George's is on its way to becoming a freaking Barnes and Noble, for Christ's sake.

On stage, the band began to practice a jazz number. The singer took her position at the microphone, and her sultry voice reached every corner of the room as she launched into the song. 

I'm feelin' mighty lonesome, haven't slept a wink, 

I walk the floor and watch the door, 

And in between I drink black coffee...

Gabriel jumped at the sudden touch of a hand on his shoulder. He stiffened and turned, and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw that it was Gran.

"Lord have mercy, my dear boy! You looked as if you were expecting to see the Devil himself behind you!"

Rebecca Knight's eyes, which were normally lively and bright, were shadowed with worry over her only grandson. Gabriel saw this and immediately felt guilty. "I'm really sorry, Gran. I was just deep in thought and you startled me."

She didn't look convinced; she knew that there was something deeper going on, something that Gabriel wasn't willing to admit to. She sat down across from him, searching his face for answers.

"You've been lost in your thoughts all week. What's troubling you, dear?"

Gabriel sighed heavily. "Where can I start? I have a lot on my mind."

Gran reached out for his hand, and squeezed it firmly. 

"I have an idea. Start at the smallest problem and work your way up."

He glanced around at the newly revamped St. George's. "Well, I am having a hard time adjusting to what you've done to the place. I really liked the old shop the way it was, and now I feel like I'm on another planet."

"Oh, honey. Things were bound to change sooner or later. The customers have been pouring in ever since your first book sold so well, and the pressure was on for the shop to evolve so it can accommodate the steady flow of business that has increased even more since you wrote the two sequels."

Gran leaned forward in her seat with a conspiratorial grin. "And don't forget that you also have a fan following that's eagerly awaiting a fourth installment. They were left breathless from that cliffhanger ending that you wrote for the last one, when Fujitsu left... oh, dear. I'm sorry, sugar." 

Gabriel gave a smile that he didn't feel. "That's all right, Gran. Let's move on."

Rebecca's heart ached at his crestfallen expression when she carelessly mentioned Fujitsu, Grace's fictional alter ego that Gabriel used in his novels. She had liked Grace very much; she believed that if there was any woman that was the perfect match for her grandson, it was her. She was intelligent, beautiful, and had more than enough courage and spirit to hold her own in whatever she did. 

She remembered the last time that she saw Grace; it was a year before, when Grace came to New Orleans to deliver an art lecture at Tulane. Rebecca had attended the lecture, and went to see her afterwards. Grace was uncomfortable at first, but she soon came around and they spent the rest of the day together before she flew out that evening. They toured around the city, did some shopping and talked for hours about anything and everything.

Except about Gabriel. That was the only topic that was forbidden; whenever Rebecca tried to steer the conversation in that direction, Grace completely froze and shut down all her efforts. A few months later, when she went to visit Gabriel in Germany and he told her the details, she understood why Grace reacted that way at the mention of his name.

Returning her thoughts to the present, she regarded her grandson and silently prayed for God to ease his pain as well as Grace's. My dear children. Somehow the two of you have to make peace with the past, and with each other.

"Go on, son. I'm here for you."

Gabriel pushed on. "It's also strange to be here again after so many years. There are so many memories here, some of which I'd like to forget. I feel as if old ghosts are waiting for me, just below the surface."

Gran nodded knowingly. "No matter what happens, you must remember that God is on your side. And you also have the support of all those who came before you; your grandfather, Wolfgang, and even your father stands beside you in spirit."

Despite himself, he felt his eyes begin to water and he quickly blinked to prevent tears from forming. He cleared his throat to conceal his moment of weakness, but Gran wasn't fooled.

Gabriel smiled in relief. "Thanks, Gran."

Rebecca smiled back. "You're very welcome, my dear. What else bothers you?"

"All right. This is a big one, but not as major as what's coming. Christ, I don't know how to say this, so please bear with me. I've been thinking long and hard about my life, about everything that's happened in the past few years and how I've changed as a result."

He leaned forward, locking eyes with Gran. "The whole experience with the Voodoo Murders was like a giant Pandora's Box for me; it released all these different forces inside me, feelings that I'd never known before. Then, I learned about the actual, clear-cut boundaries between good and evil. I fell in love for the first time ever and then lost that person soon after. I realized that I could be counted on by others, and so on."

He cleared his throat briefly before continuing. "From the Munich wolf killings, I saw that there are times when the enemy is difficult to recognize. I appreciated the importance of having friends in one's corner during hard times, and I found out about the dangers of being too alone in the world."

Alone. God, I'm so tired of being alone.

"From the Night Stalker case, I learned... Jesus!"

Gabriel stared at the wood finish of the table, unsure of how to put his feelings into words. In the distance he could hear the clock chiming eight times, and the soft murmurs of incoming people. 

"I learned that when you have something wonderful in your life, you should make an effort to hold on to it by all means. God, I was stupid. She didn't deserve to be treated like she didn't matter; she mattered a hell of a lot more to me than she knew. She couldn't take any more of my shit and she left, and she didn't know how I felt because I never told her! I was always keeping things from her, and I was too quick to dismiss her valuable opinions whenever we were on a case..."

Damn it, I was always shutting her out, even when she was trying to help me.

Gabriel had trailed off, and Gran waited patiently until he spoke again.

"I should have told her that I loved her, Gran. Grace helped me to understand the importance of second chances. She was my second chance at love, but I didn't recognize the opportunity when it was right in front of me. It wasn't until she was gone that I realized how much she was a part of my life. I want the chance to make it up to her, to tell her how sorry I am that I let her down."

Rebecca wiped away tears, wishing that she could help relieve his burden.

"Do you still love her, my child?"

Gabriel didn't hesitate. "Absolutely."

"But Gabriel, so much time has passed..."

He held a hand up, not willing to hear the same argument again. "I know, Gran. It was my mistake, waiting so long to try and set things right. I would undo it if I could. But when I tell you my worst problem, you'll understand why it doesn't matter."

It was on the tip of Rebecca's tongue to ask him to continue, and she would have if she didn't see someone trying to get her attention from across the room. It was time for the show, and as the manager, she had to make an appearance. Her sigh echoed her frustration as she rose from her chair.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I have to make my rounds around the place. This conversation is not over, okay? I want to hear everything. I'll see you later." 

She leaned down to gently kiss Gabriel's forehead before taking her leave. He watched her go, noting the gathering crowd entering the bookstore. Ηis eyes flicked briefly over each patron's face, searching in vain for a glimpse of Grace. 

Gabriel sighed as he signaled for the waitress to bring him a beer. The band was performing full force, the infectious energy of the jazz spreading to almost everyone within earshot. Shouts of "yeah" and "all right" were audible in the crowded establishment, along with the sounds of claps, snapping fingers and tapping feet. 

The only ones not affected by the atmosphere were himself and a stranger.

He was sipping his beer and half-heartedly listening to the music when the man arrived. He heard the faint jingle of bells and automatically looked toward the door, and was startled when he saw that the tall blond man was staring straight at him. The man just stood there in the doorway, watching him for a long moment before stepping fully inside. 

Gabriel felt as if he was being measured up for something, being tested by some unknown list of criteria to see if he was suitable for an unknown purpose. He wasn't sure what to make of the whole thing.

The stranger's eyes were an odd color of grayish-blue, like storm clouds reflected in the sea. They glittered with intelligence and something else that Gabriel couldn't identify. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to identify it; he wasn't in the mood for socializing at the moment, not with all that he had on his mind. But something inside urged him to approach the man and see what would happen next.

He rose from his chair, his beer forgotten as he strode toward the entrance where the mysterious man waited for him. "Gabriel Knight, I presume?"

He detected an Irish lilt in the stranger's voice; along with the elegantly tailored suit and expensive watch that he wore, Gabriel guessed that he was dealing with a successful man of the world. Or at least someone who worked for such a man. 

"Yes, I am. What can I do for you, Mr...?"

The man's smile appeared like the sun emerging from behind a cloud, and Gabriel liked him instantly. The two men warmly shook hands. "How rude of me! My name is Liam Kilpatrick. At your service, Mr. Knight."

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Kilpatrick?"

Liam glanced cautiously around where they stood before leaning toward Gabriel. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I have a business proposition for you. Could we have a word outside?"

"Certainly. Just give me a minute and I'll meet you there."

Gabriel went to put on his jacket when he saw Gran watching him with a curious expression. He walked up to her and gave her a quick hug.

"I've got to go, Gran. I'll see you later at the house."

"Who was that man? What does he want?"

"I don't know yet, but I have a feeling that it's important. I'll fill you in later."

"Be careful, son."

Gabriel strode out of the shop and joined Liam on the street. The evening twilight gave way to darkness as they walked together down Bourbon Street. His eyes sparkled as he looked around at his old neighborhood. How he'd missed this street, the entire French Quarter! It never slept; there was always something interesting going on for those who longed for adventure the way he had. 

It would find him; not in New Orleans, but over a thousand miles away.

They stopped underneath a street lamp to talk. With the exception of a few drunk college students darting in and out of the many clubs and strip joints and the occasional patrol cop on horseback, the two men were alone.

"Okay, Mr. Kilpatrick. You have my undivided attention."

"Please, call me Liam."

"Only if you'll call me Gabriel."

"Very well then, Gabriel. I am here on behalf of my employer, David Anami."

Gabriel felt his stomach clench at the reminder of the killing that had occurred a week before. Once he arrived in town and reunited with Gran, he had forced himself to put the horrifying images and sensations that he'd experienced that day out of his mind in order to enjoy his stay and to concentrate on his plans for finding Grace. He had also spent the past week waiting for Mosely to call him with information on her whereabouts, but he never got back to him.

Maybe he changed his mind about helping me after all.  

He cleared his throat, returning to the present. 

"I see. And how did Mr. Anami know about my services?"

Liam paused as if he was deciding on how much to tell Gabriel.

"Mr. Anami and his wife are good friends with Prince James of Albany. Recently on a trip to Paris, he confided in His Highness about his particular situation and you were highly recommended."

"Well, it's nice to know that my former client is satisfied with my work. What situation would that be, exactly? Is it related to the recent killing?" 

A wolfish smile briefly transformed Liam's features before disappearing as if it had never been. "I'm afraid that I'm not at liberty to say, Gabriel. Mr. Anami will tell you himself, if you decide to accept the assignment, of course."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed, but inside he was intrigued by the offer. 

"Could you give me a general idea of what this case involves? It's my custom to do some preliminary research before I accept an assignment."

Liam's eyes widened slightly, and he turned to watch the black sky for a moment before his gaze returned to Gabriel's face. "Very well, then. I'm sure that Anami wouldn't object."

He leaned toward Gabriel, the street light shining into his eyes and making the pupils contract until they were just black specks that swam in the stormy depths of his irises. Gabriel began to feel a warning tingle at the base of his spine, but he needed to hear what his companion had to say. He had to know.

Liam's lips moved as if in slow motion. "Possession."

Gabriel's mouth felt as dry as a desert, and he longed for a glass of water.

"What type of possession?" He managed to croak out the words, and Liam straightened with another smile while reaching into his suit jacket.

"No more 'freebies', Gabriel. You now know everything that I've been sent to tell you, and I cannot say more. You're either in or you're out; it's that simple. By all means, take all the time you need to decide whether you want to work with us, but I need an answer by tomorrow night. I'm returning to New York on Sunday afternoon; it would please Anami very much if you were to accompany me. You will be paid very handsomely, I assure you, and you will be extended every courtesy as an honored guest."

Liam handed Gabriel his business card. "Call me when you've made a decision. I'm staying at the Ritz-Carlton, but since I'll be out all day tomorrow on an errand, it would be best if you would call me directly on my cell phone. It was a pleasure meeting you, Gabriel, and I hope that we'll see more of each other in the future."

With a brief nod, Liam strode away, leaving Gabriel to stare after him from where he stood beneath the street lamp. He glanced down at the card that he held, noting the taste and elegance of its design. He flipped it over, and the breath stopped in his throat.

On the back of the card were three words in what Gabriel assumed was Liam's handwriting: "She needs you."

Alarmed, Gabriel looked up in search of Liam's departing form, but he was gone. He had already turned the corner onto Canal Street to return to his hotel.

His heart pounding in his chest, Gabriel had the thought to run after him; he wanted to grab him, shout at him, demand that he tell him everything that he knew about Grace's whereabouts and how she was. But the patrol cop that was touring the area wouldn't have cared for his idea, and he wasn't in the mood to explain himself if he was caught in the act. 

What the hell would I say? "Oh, hello Officer! No, I'm not attacking this gentleman. You see, this man has just offered to hire me on behalf of his billionaire boss because someone - or should I say something - is taking control of persons unknown and... What? Hell no, I'm not high! Or drunk! Listen, then this guy gave me his card with a message on the back that's cryptic as hell, and I think it has to do with my long lost lover!" Yeah, that would go over well.

Gabriel smirked to himself briefly, and then his face grew serious again. He turned and walked back up Bourbon Street, back to where his motorcycle was waiting. He had something else in mind first; he decided that he had waited long enough to talk to Mosely, and tonight they needed to have some words.



Dark Impulse Ch. 08



He left the French Quarter behind as he fired up his bike and sped off into the night, his mind on Liam's message. 

"She needs you." There's no way that it could mean anyone else, with everything that's been going on; my visions and dreams. I guess this confirms my earlier suspicion that Grace knows Anami somehow, but I wish that I knew exactly what the hell's going on. Maybe she'll tell me when I find her.

Gabriel stepped on the gas, and didn't stop until he found himself at his grandmother's house just outside the city. He went up the stairs two at a time before opening the door. 

"Gran? I'm back." 

There was no answer, and only then did he check his watch. It was 9pm; only an hour had passed since he left St. George's to talk with Liam.

Why does it feel so much later? It feels like a lifetime has passed since then.

Gabriel went further into the house, heading straight for the phone. The answering machine was flashing; there was a message waiting to be heard. He pressed the "Play" button, and Mosely's voice filled the air.

"Gabriel, it's Mosely. Sorry that I haven't been able to call this week, but I've been up to my eyeballs in paperwork and this is the first chance I've had to break away. Call me at home as soon as you hear this, okay? I have some info for you."

He picked up the phone and called Mosely's apartment in D.C.

"Hello?"

Gabriel's voice was both eager and anxious. "Tell me."

"Nice to hear from you too, Bud."

Gabriel clenched his teeth in frustration. 

"Mose, I'm not in the mood. I need to know what you've found."

Mosely cleared his throat. "All right, then. So far, all I've been able to find on Grace involves her studies at Yale and beyond. There wasn't anything on file to let us know what she was up to after RLC, but I checked the records at Yale and found out that she went back to school in '97 to finish her education. She graduated with honors two years ago with a double doctorate; History and Art. In the fall of that year, she began work as an Art History professor at Columbia and she works there to this day, specializing in the Italian Renaissance."

Gabriel was silent for a long moment, unable to speak from the feeling of overwhelming pride that he felt for her. His vision blurred, and he blinked hard.

She finally did what she had always wanted to do. Good for her.

He snapped out of his thoughts and returned his attention to Mosely. 

"Did you find out anything about a husband?" 

The words came out as a choked whisper, and he held his breath as he waited for an answer. 

Mosely cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the subject.

"I haven't found any record of a marriage, but I've only been able to check the marriages that have happened on US soil. I'm trying to get into the International records, but I don't know if I'll be able to wade through the red tape anytime soon."

Gabriel exhaled hard into the phone, his mind echoing from Mosely's first words; that there was no record of a marriage. He chose to ignore the rest.

No record, no marriage. She's not married. Thank God.

He was greatly relieved, and it was obvious in his voice as he spoke again.

"Do you have an address for me, Mose? A phone number?"

Mosely sighed, realizing that Gabriel was getting his hopes up too high, too soon, and that he was setting himself up for a hard fall. He himself doubted very much that Grace was still single. He believed that any woman that beautiful and intelligent would have been snatched up long before now. He tried to speak around the lump that had formed in his throat. He loved her, too.

"I searched the faculty records of Columbia, and I have an address for you to try. The San Remo apartment building, 145 Central Park West, between 74th and 75th Streets."

Gabriel fumbled around beside the telephone to find a pen and paper, and quickly scribbled down the address. He wanted to scream from the rooftops, he was so happy. An idea came to mind; he remembered the book that he'd brought from Rittersberg for Grace, and he grinned like a Cheshire cat into the phone.

"You are amazing, Mose! Thank you so much! Keep digging around for information on Anami, all right? Someone who works for him approached me at the shop tonight, and he asked me to come to New York and take their case."

On the other end of the line, Mosely sat upright in his chair. 

"What? What the hell do they want with you?"

"I'm not entirely sure. The guy, Liam Kilpatrick, told me only so much information. Apparently I have to accept their proposal before I can find out more."

Mosely tried to remember where he'd heard the name before, and then it came to him. "Kilpatrick. He's Anami's right-hand man, I think. What's the case supposed to be about, anyway?"

"Possession." 

Gabriel felt a chill go through him again as he said the word. Mosely felt it too.

"Holy shit! Who's possessed and by what, Knight?"

"Now that, my good friend, is what I don't know yet. But I'm going to find out."

Mosely ran a shaky hand through his thinning hair. 

"Don't tell me that you're actually considering accepting the assignment, Gabriel. Listen, as of now all of the departments are running scared where this guy Anami is concerned, Langley included. He's very rich, powerful and well-connected, and this makes him virtually untouchable by the law. If you go through with this, you'll be going directly into the lion's den. I may not be able to help you there. You understand me, Bud? Anami may not be a suspect according to the Agency or the FBI, but I'm sure as hell worried about him bringing you into his organization. I feel weird about this whole thing, like there's some serious shit going down and I..."

Gabriel listened as Mosely trailed off, and he took a deep breath.

"I know, Mose. I'll be careful, okay? There's one more thing that I forgot to mention. Kilpatrick gave me his business card before he left, and it had a written message on the back. When I read the message, I knew that I must join them and see where this goes."

"What did it say?"

"It said, 'She needs you.' It's got to be about Grace. I've got to accept, Mose."

"Whoa, whoa. Hold on. What makes you think that he meant Grace?"

"Because when I had that episode last week at the airport, I saw a connection between Grace and Anami. If this is true, then it makes sense that Liam would send me word of her in order to pull me in. It's definitely working."

Mosely grew uneasy. "What kind of connection?"

Gabriel lightly bit his lower lip. "I wish I knew."

"Romantic?"

Gabriel grimaced. "God, Mose! He's old enough to be her father!"

"He's a billionaire who looks very good for his age."

Gabriel felt his stomach drop at Mosely's words. He didn't like the picture that Mosely was painting for him of Grace's character. 

She's not like that. She'd never do anything like that.

"What the hell are you trying to say, damn it? We know her. She'd never hook up with a guy because he has money. What's wrong with you tonight?"

Mosely hated himself for what he was saying, but he couldn't help the thoughts that were racing through his mind. He felt like the bully on the beach who kicks down other kids' sandcastles, but he couldn't stand to watch his friend chasing after what may be a lost cause. But that wasn't the only reason why he felt compelled to turn his pal away from his plans. He knew that it was unfair, but something within him didn't want Gabriel to find Grace and be with her while he himself could not.

"Correction, Bud. We KNEW her. We haven't seen her for over five years. Things change, people change. Think about it."

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, silently counting to ten before speaking.

"Thanks for your help, Mose. Call me again when you've found something on Anami, okay? We'll keep in touch."

He hung up the phone, cutting Mosely off in mid-protest. The house was silent, and he released a grunt of pent up anger as his friend's so-called warnings.

I don't give a damn what he says. I need to see how she is with my own eyes, and I obviously need to be in the same city with her to do that. 

Gabriel walked up the stairs towards his old room, where he'd been staying the past week. He reached for his duffel bag and pulled out the book that he'd brought to give to Grace. He looked it over, stroking it lovingly with his hands. It was a first-edition volume of Wuthering Heights, from when it was published in 1847.

He reached for a piece of stationery paper and a pen, and with a smile he wrote a brief note before folding it up and placing it beside the book. After he finished, he returned downstairs with the book in hand and left the house. 

He rode back into the city, hoping to find a courier service that was still open at 9:30 on a Friday night. When he found one, he couldn't believe his luck. Within minutes, the book was carefully packed and was set to be delivered by late the next morning. Once he was outside again, he looked into the night sky.

I hope that the book finds you well. I hope that I will find you well.

* * *

The light had blinded him. As hard as he tried, he couldn't see her face.

"Gabriel, I need you."

He raised his arm to shield his eyes, and at last he could detect shapes in the distance. He was away from the claustrophobic atmosphere of the cave, but outside he felt the freezing wind against his bare skin and ice beneath his feet.

Where am I? Where is Grace?

Gabriel lowered his arm, and he waited for his vision to adjust to the new surroundings. He shivered from head to toe, and he was shocked to feel the wintry caress of snowflakes on his naked form. 

"Gabriel."

He could barely hear her whisper over the howling wind, and his eyes darted around in search of the sound's source. He forced himself to place one foot before the other, to move despite the overwhelming urge to sleep. 

"Please, help us."

Gabriel couldn't see more than a foot in front of him; he stumbled along, not knowing where he was or how to get where he needed to go. The cold was severely sapping away his strength, and he could feel his body shutting down.

Gracie, where are you?

"I don't know how much longer I can hold on, Gabriel. I don't know how much more I can take before..."

Gabriel's labored breath wheezed in and out of his chest, and he could go no further. He swayed on his feet, falling to his knees on the frozen water on which he had walked. He looked up into the sky and saw everything around him begin to spin; the gray sky, the dead trees and the towering buildings above became a jumbled kaleidoscope that caused his mind to collapse.

He was dimly aware of the impact that his head made on the solid ice beneath him. He was lying face down on the frozen lake, but he felt no pain as he finally began to succumb to the hypothermia that ravaged his system. He could no longer move his legs as he stared straight ahead, his gaze fixed on the ice before his eyes. 

The treacherous wind blew harder, stirring the loose snow beneath Gabriel's head. His eyes fell to the spot where the snowflakes had been, and his heart jumped when he saw a pair of almond-shaped eyes beneath the surface. 

It took all his remaining strength to lift a trembling hand to brush away more of the concealing snow, and Gabriel let out a moan of anguish when he saw Grace's frozen, lifeless form revealed. 

The cold had taken its toll on him, and the end was at hand. The last thing that Gabriel saw before he lost consciousness forever was the image of her eyes, staring sightlessly at him from the icy abyss.

* * * 

"NO!" Gabriel screamed as he woke up from his nightmare, twisting against the bedsheets and shuddering with mingled fear and cold from the dream.

Gran burst into his room, turning on the light.

"Gabriel, it's okay! You were just having a dream, darling. You're safe."

He shook his head continuously from side to side, like a scared child.

"No, no, no..."

Rebecca grabbed his shoulders and vigorously shook him.

"Snap out of it, son!"

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, feeling dizzy. 

"Stop it, Gran. I'm okay now, thanks."

For a few minutes, the only sounds were of Gabriel's ragged breathing and of crickets outside. He took several deep breaths before opening his eyes again. Gran watched him from beneath lowered lids, her mind racing like a pack of wild horses.

"How bad was it this time?"

Gabriel was surprised at her insight; he hadn't told her about the previous dreams. He exhaled hard and lowered himself against the sheets.

"Horrible." There was no other word to describe it.

Rebecca looked into his eyes. "So are you going to tell me what's going on, now? We never did get the chance to talk about it, since I had to stay at the shop until the festivities were over and you were already asleep when I got home."

He told her everything, omitting nothing. He told her about the New York killing, Anami's suspected involvement and the possibility that Grace may be caught in the middle.

"Are you going to accept the case?"

Gabriel's face was grim. "I have no choice. If I involve myself with the inner workings of this thing, I'll be able to get in touch with her and offer to help."

Gran's eyes were fierce with support as she rose from where she sat at the edge of the bed. She held out her hand for Gabriel to take.

"There's something that you should see, my boy. Come with me."

She led him to the attic, the fateful place where he'd first learned about his family's long hidden secrets. They stopped in front of a large length of cloth.

"What is it, Gran?"

"I have a confession to make, Gabriel. I saw Grace a year ago, when she came to New Orleans to deliver a lecture at Tulane. We spent the day together, and before she left she gave me this."

Rebecca grabbed the edge of the cloth and pulled it away, revealing a framed portrait of Gabriel. He was shocked and touched to the core. He stepped closer, amazed at the level of detail that was put into the painting. It was as if he was standing before a mirror, and he struggled to compose himself.

She watched his reaction, her mood somber. "You're on her mind as well, my dear. Now you go over there and get her out of this mess, and then hopefully you'll both be in a place where you can finally resolve things from there."

When he was finally able to speak, Gabriel's voice was low and determined.

"Yes, ma'am."

Soon afterwards, Gran left the attic to return to bed. Gabriel continued to observe his portrait, his chest tight with emotion. He peered at the corner of the canvas and saw the initials that were unmistakably hers, "G.N." 

I see the love behind each stroke of the brush. What were you thinking when you did this, Gracie? You had to have known that I would see this eventually. 

When he finally grew tired of staring into his own artistic reflection, he went downstairs and went straight for the phone. He picked up Kilpatrick's business card and dialed the number. 

It was the middle of the night, but Liam's voice sounded crisp and alert when he answered on the second ring. "This is Kilpatrick."

Gabriel's hand tightened on the receiver as he spoke.

"This is Gabriel Knight. Count me in."



Dark Impulse Ch. 09



Anami Residence

900 Park Avenue at 79th Street,

March 31, 2001

Grace woke up with a start, flinging away the bedsheets before running to the bathroom. She could feel the churning heat beginning in her stomach, working its way up as she hurried to raise the toilet seat. She kneeled on the cold marble floor, pulling her long hair away from her face just in time. Her body jerked as she began to retch, her abdomen violently clenching and heaving. Nothing came up but fluid; she hadn't eaten anything since Thursday evening.

She heard soft footsteps in the distance, and she panicked.

"Mommy?"

Grace turned her head slightly, hoping that in her mad dash she had thought to close the door behind her. To her relief, she saw that the door was closed.

"Mommy, what's wrong?" Raphael's voice sounded worried and scared through the barrier of the door, and Grace didn't want him to see her in such a state.

"Rafe, don't come in here. I'm okay, sweetie. I just need to splash some water on my face, and then I'll be right out."

She slowly lifted her head away from the cool porcelain, softly crying out from the pain that moving her head caused. It felt like it weighed a ton, and any minute Grace expected her neck to snap under its burden. 

She rose from the floor, flushing the toilet before walking towards the sink. She stared down at her hands as she washed them. They're the same as they've always been, I suppose. She cupped them to bring the water to her face, allowing the shock of the cool drops to wake her up fully. 

She turned off the faucet and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked into her eyes and was startled to see the swollen redness, dark circles and the great desolation in them. In her own eyes, she looked like an old woman at 33.

She looked again at her hands, then back to the mirror.

My hands are the same, my body is the same, but my face! Who is this, she who stares back at me? She frightens me with her witch eyes. Why can't she just go away?

Grace reached for her toothbrush, averting her eyes from the mirror as she brushed her teeth. When she finished and rinsed her mouth, she looked up again.

I no longer recognize myself.

Her head aching, she stumbled to the door and out of the bathroom. Rafe was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her. His fresh, young face was concerned as she walked up to him and reached out a hand to stroke his shoulder-length sable hair.

"I'm fine, sweetheart. Don't worry."

He didn't look convinced, and he must have seen something revealing in her eyes because his face became strangely blank. 

"You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you? If it was serious?"

Grace felt a pang of fear in her heart; of what, she didn't know. 

"Of course I would. Why would you ask that?"

Raphael looked at her for a long moment. "I'm not sure. I just get these feelings sometimes, like there's more going on than I know."

Grace's eyes began to water, and she bit her lip to hold back the tears. She cleared her throat, barely managing to keep her voice from cracking as she spoke.

"Son, I promise you that if anything serious happens, I will tell you."

Rafe watched her with his slightly-rounded eyes, and he eventually nodded. He rose from the bed and went to where she stood, looking up at her.

"Are you feeling better now? Are we still going to visit Grandpa today?"

Grace smiled at his eagerness, and she leaned down to kiss his cheek. 

"Yes and yes! Go and get dressed now, and we'll take a nice walk through the park on the way."

Rafe ran back into his room next door, and Grace was alone. She thought over what he'd said about sensing that there was more going on than what he was told, and she felt ashamed of herself. 

He sees through my lies, through me, like glass. It's a miracle that I don't shatter.

She opened and entered the walk-in closet to pick out her clothes for the day, and she selected a warm green cashmere sweater and jeans along with a pair of black calf-length boots made from buttery soft leather. 

She let her mind wander as she dressed. She thought again about the wrong move she'd made by calling Gabriel, and she sighed in self-disgust. She couldn't believe that she had almost fallen into the trap of inviting him back into her life after so long. 

Well, thank goodness that he wasn't home at the time. I would have hated it if he had picked up the phone and I couldn't speak from nervousness, or worse, if I heard sounds of some woman in the background. Damn it, if only I had been able to hang up sooner! I'll bet that the recording that I left sounded terrible.

The week before, when she realized that her crying had been recorded on Gabriel's voice-mail, Grace was alarmed. She began looking over her shoulder when she went out, afraid that she would turn around and he would be there. When the days passed and there was no response, at first she had been relieved but then she felt curiously disappointed along with something else; she'd felt as if she'd been abandoned.

Bullshit. I've managed without Gabriel for years, and I don't need him now. Whatever his reasons for not acting on my misguided call for help, I don't care. I have to be the one who'll step up and do what's best for myself and my child. I'm sick and tired of playing the damsel in distress! God knows that the whole charade of my marriage was based on that role, but no more. I must figure out what I'm going to do next, and then take action. I'm through with waiting in the wings while my life, my entire world revolves around either one man or another. It all ends now.

She finished dressing and walked to her bedside table, reaching out for her daily planner. She flipped through the pages, her eyes searching for the red circles that indicated her last period cycle. Finding them, she calculated the days.

Three weeks ago was the last one. David and I made love when it was over, about two weeks ago. The bouts of nausea began last week, as well as worst of the migraines. What the hell's going on here? I can't be pregnant again; it would be the worst timing in the world, considering that I'm going to leave him.

Lost in her thoughts, Grace absently placed a hand on her abdomen. She didn't want it to be true, but she didn't know what else it could be. 

She glanced at the bedside clock; it was 9:30am. Her planner was still open next to where she sat on the bed, so she turned the pages until she reached the section where she kept the phone numbers. She looked up the number of her gynecologist while reaching for the cordless phone. Her head pounded harder with anxiety as she dialed.

"Hello, you have reached the office of Dr. Karen Sato. I'm not in right now..."

Grace patiently waited for the beep before speaking, her voice nervous.

"Karo, it's me, Grace. I haven't been feeling well this past week, lots of nausea and that type of thing. Could you squeeze me in for a check-up on Monday afternoon? It's urgent. If you want to get back to me, call me on my cell. Bye."

She disconnected the call and returned the phone back to the night table She jumped when she looked up to find Raphael standing at the doorway, watching her.

Grace rose from the bed. "Hi, baby. How long have you been waiting there?" 

Rafe shrugged. "Not long. Mom, do we have to put the special cream on today?"

Grace watched him, noting the expression of distaste on his features as he spoke. He hates it, she realized. But it's necessary to protect him from prying eyes.

"Honey, you heard what the dermatologist said. It's necessary to protect your sensitive skin from the sun whenever you go outside. The sunlight can be very damaging for people with fair skin such as yours."

Rafe frowned. "But I don't like the way it makes me look when I have it on. I look like I'm from outer space, and it makes me look pale and sick when I'm not! People, both on the street and here at home, look at me with pity on their faces and that's NOT necessary. I also don't like the feel of it on my face. It's unnatural."

She felt a rush of heat in her cheeks as she registered her son's complaints. It pained her that he disliked the daily regimen so much, and she hated making him go through with it.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't think about how you would feel about the whole thing. I'll talk with the doctor next week and see if she can put you on something else, okay? Something that's less thick so it won't cover up your rosy cheeks. But in the meantime, let's continue with this cream for just a little while longer."

Rafe brought over the small orange tube of sunscreen and placed it in Grace's waiting hand. Unscrewing the cap, she watched her little boy's face and again chided herself for her cowardice and dishonesty. She squeezed a generous dollop onto her fingers and went to work, covering his skin with the disgusting mixture. She wanted to cry as his beautiful skin was smothered by the white lotion, and she cursed herself repeatedly inside her mind.

Grace caught a whiff of the cream and her brows drew together in a frown. 

"God, this stuff stinks!" She said it in self-directed anger, and Rafe looked at her with wide eyes.

"Mom, I'm sorry that I yelled at you before." The look in his eyes told her that he thought she was angry at him, and her voice softened as she rushed to correct him.

"Don't apologize, my angel. You have every right to say what you feel about anything you want. I'm very proud to have you for a son, do you know that? I love the fact that you can share your opinions so easily, without worrying about what other people will think. By being able to do that, you're stronger than most people."

"Why do some people hold themselves back, Mommy?"

Grace smiled wryly to herself before answering. 

"Because they are afraid of expressing how they really feel, sweetheart."

"Why?"

Ah, the eternal question. Grace thought carefully, searching within herself for a satisfactory explanation. She took a deep breath, meeting Rafe's gaze.

"I think the reason is that deep down, many people are insecure with themselves, and because of that they place a lot of value on what others think of them. These outside views, in these cases, are even more important than what the actual people think of themselves."

Grace turned her head to look out of the window, deep in thought.

"For example, it's possible that someone could have a good amount of self-esteem in their own right, but in certain circumstances the person finds herself lacking. In times like these, she relies on others to fill in the blanks. She looks to those close to her to provide the feedback she needs to carry on."

She turned around and met her son's eyes again. He was listening intently.

"Her reason for not speaking up for what she wants, what she believes in, may be because she doesn't wish to upset those that she cares about. She may fear that she will offend or even lose someone from her close circle if she were to ever say or do anything that conflicts with the status quo, the values that society holds in high esteem. She doesn't want to be labeled an outsider for breaking the rules. She doesn't want to be forced to accept harsh judgments that would be thrown her way because she did something that was considered to be wrong."

Raphael stood up and walked up to his mother, embracing her. His voice was partially muffled against her thigh as he spoke.

"What is it that YOU want, Mom? What is the one thing that would make you most happy, your true heart's desire, yet you can't have it?"

Grace closed her eyes at his words, the telltale sting of tears heavy behind the lids. In her mind's eye, she recalled a night of shared passion from long ago. Her hands tingled as she remembered how it had felt to run them through hair that was like fire. The ecstasy that she'd experienced from her lover's mouth and hands. The wonderful sensation of having his body on top of her, below her, behind her and inside her...

She snapped out of her trance with a loud gasp, startling the little boy. 

"I'm sorry about that, my darling. I'll have to think some more about the question, okay? We should grab some breakfast and get a move on before Grandpa wonders if we'll ever show. Go ahead to the dining room, and I'll be right behind you."

Rafe reluctantly left the room, and Grace sighed heavily as she turned to face the window once more. She placed her forehead against the cool glass as if the cold could extinguish the all-consuming fever that had pervaded her thoughts. She had been caught off-guard by Rafe's uncanny insight, and again she thought of Gabriel.

My true heart's desire? Where can I possibly begin? I want so many things these days. However, if I were to search deep within myself for the one thing that I most want, besides the guaranteed safety of my child, I would wish for a sign that I still matter to Gabriel. It's amazing that all the time and distance has failed to take away my need to mean something to him. How strange this is, my ridiculous yet everlasting hope for the one thing that he was never willing to give to me. His love. I am such a fool.

She felt the familiar stirrings of anger once again, and she pushed her thoughts of Gabriel to the back of her mind before leaving the bedroom.

In the dining room, Grace cautiously nibbled on some crackers as she sipped her morning cup of tea, hoping that she'd be able to keep them down. Rafe occasionally watched her from where he sat across the large table, but the Saturday morning cartoons successfully drew his attention to the television while he ate his bowl of cereal.

She finished her breakfast and focused on the stack of papers that she had left on the table the night before. It was the guest list and seating chart for a gala that she was organizing for Anami Enterprises to celebrate David's latest costly donation to cancer research, as well as to solicit other donations from Manhattan's elite. 

She shuddered as she remembered her confrontation with David the night before, and her state of mind upon returning to the penthouse. She hadn't wanted to deal with the details of planning the upcoming masquerade ball which was her responsibility, but she threw herself into it until she was exhausted. She'd had no other way to cope with the realization that her marriage was spinning wildly out of control and she didn't know how to stop it. She no longer knew if she even wanted to stop it. Her thoughts returned again to Gabriel, and the pencil that she'd been holding snapped in two under her fierce grip.

Rafe was startled by the sound, and he dropped his spoon onto the floor. Grace felt the heat rushing to her face as she stood and went to her son. She bent down to retrieve the spoon just as Miyuki entered the room to clear the table.

"Madam? Is everything okay?"

Grace clenched her teeth, angry with herself for frightening her son.

"Everything's fine, Miyuki. Would you please take this spoon and bring another for Rafe, please? We had an accident."

Miyuki took the spoon from Grace's outstretched hand and was about to leave the room when Rafe spoke up. 

"No, that's okay, Mom. I was finished anyway. Can we go now? I have all my stuff ready, including the drawings I made for Grandpa. Please, can we go?"

Grace saw the pleading look in his wide eyes and her heart ached.

"Okay, sweetie. Let's go. Miyuki? Would you do me a favor, please?"

She grabbed the annoying stack of paperwork concerning the gala and gave it to the maid. I have more important things to deal with than some silly party for rich snobs who want to play dress up. It's time to stop now; let someone else sort out this crap.

"Whenever you can, please pass this on to what's-his-face. You know, that guy who arranges things for my husband, his personal assistant."

"Do you mean Mr. Kilpatrick, madam?"

Frustrated, Grace had an urge to grab Miyuki and shake her for the occasional moments such as this when the maid would become a complete airhead, but she resisted. She fought to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, but some of it leaked out anyway.

"No... Kilpatrick is my husband's best friend and vice president of the company, Miyuki. I want you to give these papers to the one who waits on my husband like a dog, the brown-noser. Oh, you know which one I mean! He was here just yesterday when he told you to pack up Mr. Anami's bags for London!"

After a long and confused moment, Miyuki finally began to see the light.

"Oh! You mean that guy..."

Grace didn't know whether to laugh or scream. She wanted to leave the oppressive atmosphere of the apartment so badly, she could practically taste the spring air outside. She wanted to walk amongst the trees in Central Park, beside the Lake.

"Yes! That guy! Anyway, I don't give a damn who you give it to now, because I'm out of here! Let's go, Rafe. Grandpa is waiting for us, and we're going to have a great weekend. I can feel it."

* * * 

They entered Central Park at East 79th Street, passing the Metropolitan Museum of Art on the way to the Turtle Pond. Greatly relieved to be away from the stifling walls of the penthouse, Grace closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet air of spring.

"Isn't this beautiful, sweetheart? I absolutely love this time of year, because everything stirs and awakens for another chance at life. The leaves return to the trees, the birds sing their melodies and the flowers appear to give their color to the world."

She smiled at her son, and her heart leapt in her chest when he smiled back. 

My dear God, he looks just like his father when he smiles.

Grace looked at Rafe's tiny hand clutched in her own. She squeezed it affectionately before they changed paths to walk toward the Lake. 

"Of course you know that I have another, more important reason why I love spring as much as I do. Come on, take a guess."

Rafe, still smiling, pretended to think carefully before abandoning the charade. His eyes glittered with excitement, and they looked like polished obsidian stones.

"Because of me!"

Grace laughed, the bell-like sound echoing over the water. 

"Yes, baby. The day you were born was the happiest day of my life, and each year I count my blessings that I have you, my sweet boy."

"Not even your marrying Daddy was as happy as my birth?"

Her smile faded. No, it wasn't. Not by a long shot.

She leaned down to look into Rafe's eyes. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, even more than marrying your father. You are my everything."

They embraced for a long moment before Grace broke away to rise.

"Come on, honey. Let's hurry so Grandpa won't worry..."

She froze, her gaze fixed on the Lake. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't look away. A sensation of deep cold washed over her, chilling her to the core.

Raphael pulled at Grace's hand, trying to snap her out of her trance.

"Mommy? What's going on? Mom, please look at me."

She heard her son's cries, but she couldn't respond. Her vision blurred as the air in her lungs seemed to leave her, replaced by a searing heat that made everything around her spin out of control. She couldn't breathe or even think; her eyes remained locked on the water. She felt as if she was thrashing helplessly in its dark and freezing depths, unable to rise to the surface and safety. Her body buckled under the strain and Grace crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Rafe panicked, his eyes darting around in search of someone who could help. He saw a man jogging nearby, and he began to wave his arms wildly and scream for his attention.

"Mister! We need your help! Something's wrong with my mom! Please help us!"

The man ran over, alarmed by the frightened child and the collapsed woman beside him. "What happened here?"




Dark Impulse Ch. 09



Tears streamed down the little boy's face, creating streaks in the carefully applied face cream. "Please, Mister! Something happened to my mom and she fainted! We were on our way to my Grandpa's, just a couple of blocks away."

The stranger picked up Grace's limp form and followed the child out of the park, allowing him to lead the way to their destination.



Dark Impulse Ch. 10



The San Remo

145 Central Park West

"Grandpa! Grandpa! Open up!"

Raphael's scared voice echoed throughout the hallway as he pounded on Hiroshi Nakimura's apartment door, and he didn't let up until he heard his grandfather unlock it. The door opened to reveal an elderly man, his wise features in shock at the sight before him. His eyes went from the man cradling his unconscious daughter to his small grandson.

"What on earth is going on here?" 

"Mom fainted in the park, Grandpa. I asked this man to help bring her here."

Hiroshi glanced at the stranger. "Thank you very much for your help."

The man smiled, perhaps relieved that his good deed was coming to an end so he could return to his workout. "It was nothing, really. I just hope that she'll be okay."

Hiroshi began to reach for his wallet, but the stranger held up a hand to stop him.

"Please, don't bother." He lowered Grace into Hiroshi's waiting arms before taking his leave. She was like a rag doll, utterly limp and unaware of her surroundings.

Rafe watched the exchange. "Do you think she'll wake up, Grandpa?"

The older man was strong for his sixty-four years of age, and he carried his daughter into one of the guest rooms. He laid her on the bed, removing her boots before tucking her in. She slept on. He turned to look at his grandson with surprise.

"Of course she'll wake up, famous artist. Silly boy! Why would you ask such a question? She has to wake up, for your sake."

The young boy bit his lip. "I was really scared earlier. The way she acted in the park, I thought that Mom was going to end up like Grandma."

Hiroshi winced at the pain that Rafe's words caused, the wound still fresh. Only a year had passed since his beloved wife Keiko had died of cancer. Brain cancer, which had been excruciating for his wife to endure and for him and Grace to witness. By the time Keiko had been diagnosed with the disease, it was already too late for treatment. As the months passed, the family had no choice but to watch helplessly as she faded away. At the end, Keiko didn't even know her own name, didn't even recognize her own daughter.

Such a horrible last glimpse for Grace to have of her mother before she died. Damn it, considering all the friction that they'd had over the years, Keiko not knowing her in the end must have cemented such sadness, such bitterness inside her as well as regret. Oh, Grace. I'm sorry that I wasn't as good a father as I should have been, that I didn't defend you enough against your mother's stubborn nature. Keiko, I wish that I could have done something to keep you here with us, so we could have grown old together and watched our beautiful grandchild go on to do great, wonderful things in his life. He's so gifted, my love. And together you and Grace could have resolved your differences. But all that can't happen now, and it's a tragedy beyond words.

He spun around to face the child. 

"Rafe, your mother will never end up like Grandma. Do you understand me, son? Your mother is young and strong, and she will always do what's best for you. She understands that she must look after her own health so she can be around for you, okay? You will always be her highest priority, and for that reason she will care for herself."

Rafe nodded, and Hiroshi let out a deep breath as he felt the tension ease from his body. He took one last glance over his shoulder at the bed where Grace slept, and he took the child's hand, leading him out of the room and closing the door behind them. 

In the living room, Hiroshi noted the large overnight bag which had both Grace's and Rafe's things inside. He smiled, glad that his daughter came up with the idea of their spending the occasional weekend with him. He'd been so tired of living in an empty apartment, and having company helped him greatly as he still struggled with his grief. Besides, it gave him the opportunity to spend quality time with his grandson.

"Got any drawings for me today, Raffaello Sanzio?"

Rafe blinked. "Who's that?"

Hiroshi sat down in his favorite chair, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

"Raffaello Sanzio was the real name of Raphael, the famous Renaissance artist. He's the guy that you're named after, buddy."

"I thought I was named after the angel."

Hiroshi's eyes widened slightly. "What made you think that?"

Rafe went to the overnight bag as he spoke. "Every once in a while, Mom calls me her angel. I looked up my name on the Internet, and I found out that there's also a very important Archangel called Raphael. The name means "He who heals God."

"My God, you're so young and already you know how to use the Internet! You always surprise me with your smarts, boy! Imagine, at four years old! Christ, I'm 64 and I'm still stumped at times over how to bring up a website!"

Rafe puffed out his chest before speaking defensively, "I'll be five next week."

Hiroshi chuckled warmly, winking at him. "That's a big difference, then."

Raphael walked towards his grandfather, handing him a roll of papers.

"I brought these for you, Grandpa."

Hiroshi was touched. "Thank you, son. I can't wait to see them and put them on my walls. Let's look at them together and you can explain to me what they are, okay?"

Together they unrolled the papers; the first drawing featured a shadowy scene. Hiroshi looked at Rafe for clarification, and the boy's face was drawn.

"This one is from a dream that I've been having for over two weeks now."

He went on to describe the dream, and the nape of Hiroshi's neck tingled. 

"Who are these men, and what are they fighting for?"

Rafe swallowed hard. "I can't tell exactly. The first few times that I had the dream, I thought that they were fighting over me and Mom. But now it feels like something else as well, something deeper and darker." He shuddered as he said the words.

Hiroshi leaned forward, his voice insistent. "Who are the two men?"

Rafe's hair swished as he shook his head, his eyes tightly closed. 

"I can't see their faces, Grandpa. I only know that one of them is my father."

Hiroshi frowned, feeling uneasy. "And the other man?"

The young child opened his eyes and focused on the older man. The black orbs had a glassy, otherworldly sheen to them, and the sight of them made Hiroshi's stomach clench. Rafe's voice was distant as he spoke, his eyes fixed on nothing.

"The other one is an impostor."

* * * 

The Savoy Hotel

London, England

David Anami paced around his luxurious suite, consumed by his thoughts. 

What the hell got into me last night? I didn't have the right to grab my wife like that. No wonder she hasn't taken any of my calls since then. Christ, I need to get a grip!

He ran his hands through his graying hair, sighing in frustration and self-directed anger. A faint knock at the door interrupted his train of thought, and he welcomed the distraction.

"Enter!" 

One of the personal aides that had been sent from the AE London branch entered the suite. "Mr. Anami, the ceremony will begin shortly. Would you like to go over your speech before we leave?"

David shook his head. "I am fully prepared, thank you. I will see you in a bit."

The aide bowed and left the room, and David strode over to the telephone. He pushed several buttons and patiently waited for his call to connect.

"This is the Anami residence, how may I help you?"

He cleared his throat. "Miyuki, I need to speak with Mrs. Anami please."

"I'm sorry, sir. Mrs. Anami and your son have gone to Mr. Nakimura's for the weekend. Perhaps you could try ringing them there?"

David thanked her before hanging up and dialing his father's apartment.

"Hello?"

"Hiroshi, it's me. David. I'm calling from London. Is Grace available?"

He heard a sigh on the other end of the line. 

"David, I'm afraid that Grace isn't feeling well at the moment. She fainted in Central Park a while ago, and she's been unconscious since then."

David felt his heart stop within his chest, and he took a shuddering breath.

"Oh, my God. Is she going to be okay? Have you sent for a doctor?"

Hiroshi was angered by David's concern, and it was evident in his voice.

"Of course I had a doctor take a look at her! He wondered if she had sustained some type of head injury in order to suddenly collapse like that."

Hiroshi paused meaningfully, allowing his words to take effect. David knew exactly what the older man implied, and he bristled with anger.

"I have never raised my hand to hurt Grace, damn it!"

Hiroshi's hand clenched hard on the receiver, wishing that it was David's throat.

"That's not what I thought last night, when Grace called me in tears. Luckily for you, the doctor didn't find any signs of abuse. The most likely reason for her episode is excessive stress, either work related or domestic. I suspect domestic."

David was silent, and after a long moment Hiroshi sighed again. 

"Anyway, Grace isn't fit enough to come to the phone. She'll call you when she regains her strength and is ready to talk." If she's ever ready, you son-of-a-bitch.

David was startled by the deafening click from the other end. Hiroshi had hung up on him. He began to pace around the room again, his mind on his wife. He felt sick with anger and regret over all that he had put Grace through during the past week and especially the night before, and he was overwhelmed with the urge to hop on a plane to return to New York immediately.

But he wouldn't do it; he couldn't. Even if he was able to leave London at that moment, he knew that Grace wouldn't be overjoyed to see him so soon. Or at all. He knew that they both needed time to sort things out, to try and rebuild the feelings of trust and security in their marriage, and he was determined to give her all the time and space that she needed. 

David looked over his shoulder at the telephone. And I need time to find a solution to my own problems before I can even think of returning to my normal life, to my family.

He returned to the phone, punching in another multi-digit code. 

"Hello, this is the New Orleans Ritz-Carlton. How may I direct your call?"

"Liam Kilpatrick's suite, please."

"One moment, please." 

Despite himself, David found himself smiling when he heard the familiar sounds of Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons" as he waited. He was quietly humming along with "Spring" when Liam came on the line.

"Kilpatrick."

"Liam, it's me. Tell me what's going on with this Knight character."

Liam grinned. "Well, I approached him at the bookstore that he owns and we found a quiet place on the street to discuss business. Of course he wanted to know how you knew about him, and I told him that you were friends with Prince James. He insisted on knowing what the case was about before signing on, but as you requested, I gave him only minimal information. He will have to consult with you to learn more of the specifics. I then took my leave, telling him to call me when he'd made a decision."

David coughed, realizing that he hadn't taken a breath the entire time Liam talked.

"Has he come to a decision, then? Will he help me?"

Liam laughed, the warm sound spilling over the phone lines separating them.

"Oh yes, he has. He seemed rather reluctant about taking your case at first, but I guess something I said must have convinced him." 

He smiled in self-satisfaction, knowing that his friend and boss couldn't see him.

David smiled himself, reveling in the best news that he'd had all week. 

"This is extraordinary! I can't believe that we were able to get him! Thank you, Liam. You've done a wonderful job. When will you be returning to New York?"

"Knight and I will arrive in the city on Sunday afternoon, I estimate. When will you be back from London?"

"Damn, I still have some business to finish over here. Other than today's grand opening of the new Nanotechnology division, I have to look over plans to develop the other bio-medical projects. I won't be home until Wednesday."

Liam checked his schedule. "That's just in time for the masquerade ball. Are you sure that you can't get away sooner? Knight may get antsy, having to wait three days to meet with you about your 'dire emergency.'"

David's voice grew hard, dangerous. "Are you mocking me, Liam?"

Too late, the Irishman realized his error. "No, David. Never. I..."

"Good. I have to leave for the event now. I trust that you will perform your task without problems? If Knight grows too inquisitive about my affairs, you will keep him in line. Am I right?"

Liam rushed to assure him. "Of course, David. All will be well."

David grimaced. "It had better go well. Goodbye, Liam."

He hung up the phone, cutting Liam off. David purposefully strode to a nearby chair, where his suit jacket was draped. He picked it up and slipped it on, pausing in front of the mirror to adjust his tie before leaving the suite. 

* * * 

After the phone call from London, Raphael and Hiroshi continued to look over the stack of drawings until they reached the last one. It had been drawn just that morning, and it featured what looked to be the beginning of a beautiful sunrise that illuminated the darkness of the field from which it rose. Partially hidden by the sunlight was the shadow of a man.

Hiroshi waved his hand over the picture, indicating the figure. "Who is this?"

Rafe's voice became dreamy, his eyes peaceful. 

"He is my savior in the dream. The one who reaches for me after I've fallen."

Hiroshi glanced at the picture again. "You've only captured his arm here."

"I wasn't able to see his face, Grandpa. Only his hand and arm. I wasn't able to make contact, no matter how much I wanted to. The dream always ended when I reached out to him." 

A tear fell from Rafe's eye, and the older man held out his arms. 

"Come here, my boy."

Rafe went to his grandfather, and Hiroshi hugged him tight, his eyes still on the drawing.

"Don't worry, son. If you want it badly enough, you'll find out what it all means."

Hiroshi heard a soft moan of pain coming from the guest room. Grace was waking up. He stood, bringing Rafe with him. 

"You'll find what you need, I'm sure of it. Let's go check on your mother."

They left the room, leaving the drawing on the coffee table. A soft breeze blew in from the open window, gently stirring the paper on which the arm was drawn.

There was a thin, jagged scar on the forearm. Rafe told Hiroshi that it had been created by a knife. It wasn't until much later that Hiroshi wondered how Rafe knew to give such a lifelike detail to a fictional dream figure.



Dark Impulse Ch. 11



Grace slowly returned to consciousness, her entire body throbbing in pain. She felt as if she'd been run over by a truck. The last thing that she remembered was being with her son in the park, and then suddenly she couldn't breathe.

"The Lake. I saw it and I felt like I was drowning. I was so cold, all over my body."

Hiroshi sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at her.

"You're okay now, you're safe."

She opened her eyes and saw her father smiling.

"Dad, what happened? How did I get here?"

Hiroshi gently placed his hand over hers where it rested above the sheets.

"Well, your son was lucky enough to find someone who was willing to help, and you were brought here. I had a doctor come over and check you out while you were sleeping. Grace, what's going on with you? You've lost a lot of weight since the last time you were here, and Rafe told me that you were sick this morning."

Grace closed her eyes with a sigh. "I'm not sure yet. I'm afraid that I may be pregnant again. I'm going to get tested by the doctor on Monday to be sure."

"Oh God, honey. Have you said anything to David about this?"

"No way. With everything that's been going on between us, this isn't the right time. I don't know if it ever will be the right time. I've been thinking about leaving him, Dad. He's changed a lot since I first met him and married him, and now I'm led to believe that what I thought I knew about him was all a lie. He keeps secrets from me, and with his violent mood swings and behavior it's impossible to continue living with him. I don't want Rafe to live in an environment like that." 

Hiroshi nodded grimly. "Whatever you decide, I'm behind you. Speaking of the Devil, he called while you were sleeping. I told him what happened, and he sounded as if he was very worried about you. We had words, and I was so angry at him for the way he treated you last night that I slammed down the phone in his ear." 

Grace winced slightly before the corners of her mouth lifted in a smile. 

"Ouch! Very nasty."

He gave a mischievous grin in response. 

"Yes, but I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Nobody puts his hands on my daughter and gets away with it. He's lucky that he's an ocean away right now, that's for sure."

Her smile faded as her thoughts grew serious. 

"I don't know how Rafe will take this. He adores his father."

Hiroshi leaned closer. "I believe that the transition will be hard for him at first, but in time he'll realize that you want him to be safe and he'll understand your reasoning. Hell, he's so smart and intuitive anyway, he may already know what's going on and is just waiting for you to lead the way so he'll follow."

Grace rose slowly to prop herself up on one elbow, facing her father. 

"Do you really think so?"

His voice lowered to a whisper. "Whenever the two of you come over for the weekend, Raphael confides in me and tells me things that he is afraid to share with anyone, especially you. He doesn't want to upset you. He told me that he feels that he has drifted apart from David, and not just because he's always away from home on business. Rafe senses that something else is going on in David's life, and that as a result he has become a total stranger to everyone who knows him."

Her eyebrows rose in alarm. "What could it be?"

Hiroshi shrugged, his face shadowed with concern.

"Whatever it is, it frightens Rafe. So perhaps putting some distance between the two of you and David truly is the best course of action. The questions that must be asked now are when you will begin, how you're going to do it, and how far you are willing to go."

Grace lowered herself back to the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"The when is the easiest part. I will meet with a lawyer as soon as possible, just to see what legal options I have. As far as the how is concerned, I think that if we have to, we can stay in the studio that I use to paint my portraits. There's more than enough room for us, and David doesn't know anything about the place or what I do there..."

She trailed off, and Hiroshi nudged her arm. "One last detail, Grace."

She took a deep breath. "Dad, you know that I never had any romantic illusions about my marriage to David. He needed a wife and I needed a husband, plain and simple. He even claimed to love me back then, when we were in India. He never faltered in his pursuit of me, even when I told him truthfully that I could never love him in return. I never knew such a feeling of being wanted by a man before, even if it did turn out to be just a marriage of convenience. Over the following years, I believed that we had grown to at least care for each other, having faced many challenges as a couple in both our jobs and building a life here in the city as well as in raising a child together."

Grace turned to her side to meet her father's eyes; her own seemed bottomless. 

"Last night was my final attempt to salvage my marriage with him, and his frenzy in the elevator was the last straw for me. I don't know what's happened or how to explain it, but now I don't feel anything for David anymore. Not love, not even the friendship that I should have for my husband after all these years. Nothing at all. Now all I feel concerning him is sadness because the man that I pledged myself to has gone away, and he will never return. I feel anger, not just because David has changed for the worse, but because without my wanting them to, my thoughts keep returning to the person that I truly shouldn't feel anything for ever again."

Recognition dawned in Hiroshi's eyes. "I see now. The one from before..."

She cut him off before he could continue, not wanting to hear the words. 

"That's beside the point, Dad, and I haven't answered the other question. Now that I've had time to think about everything that's going on, both in my personal relationship with David and the objective view concerning last week's killing, I am willing to do whatever it takes to remove myself and my son from this potentially deadly situation."

Sitting up again, Grace held up a hand and began counting with her fingers.

"Number one: The killing took place just a few blocks from AE, and David admitted that he argued with Cooper, attacking him just before he was killed. He also 'discovered' the body, but of course he didn't want anyone to know he had been there."

Hiroshi's eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she continued.

"Number two: Despite the bullshit that law enforcement is broadcasting about David not being a suspect, I know better. I remember seeing a strange man in my lecture the morning after the killing, and he had to have been an undercover cop. I know all of my students by their names. I didn't know that guy. Since that one time, I haven't seen anything else out of the ordinary."

He gently grabbed her wrist. "Watch your back anyway."

Grace's eyes glittered with determination. "Oh, don't worry. I intend to."

She picked up a glass of water from the bedside table and briefly sipped from it.

"Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Number three was David's reaction when I told him that I had the shirt with Cooper's blood on it. He panicked, and he bounced from one extreme to the other on the emotional spectrum. One moment he was almost in tears, practically begging me not to turn him in, and the next he was accusing me of trying to blackmail him and he looked as if he wanted to throw me out of the window!"

Hiroshi's hands balled into fists. "You shouldn't have been alone with him."

Grace sighed sadly. "Yeah, well. I made the mistake of thinking I had nothing to fear from my husband." She held her face in her hands, her entire being weary. 

"What else, hon?"

She looked up. "You know what? I can't think of anything else right now. My mind is like a finished portrait that someone just dumped a vat of turpentine over. My thoughts are all runny and streaky at the moment."

Hiroshi leaned over and kissed her forehead before standing. 

"I should leave you to rest, then. Is there anything you need before I go?"

"Would you bring Rafe in, please? I need to speak with him."

He winked at her. "You got it."

Hiroshi opened the door and left the room, and Grace heard him call for her son. 

"Rafe. Your mom wants to talk to you, sport."

Raphael entered the room, and the relief in his eyes made her sorry that he witnessed her collapse. She opened her arms and the child ran to the bed, climbing into her embrace. His small body shook against her, and Grace discovered that he was crying.

"Don't cry, baby. I'm better now, I'm fine."

Rafe spoke, his words punctuated with sobs. "I thought that... like Grandma."

Grace's face crumpled as she remembered her mother's death. Their relationship as mother and daughter had been lacking in affection, but it had still broken her heart to watch the pain that Keiko had endured in the final months of her life. 

She emphatically shook her head, both to convince Rafe of how wrong he was and to drive away the painful path that her thoughts had taken.

"Never, sweetie. Never. I can't tell you what happened to me out there, but it had nothing to do with Grandma's illness. Do you trust me?"

Rafe nodded, and Grace held him tighter. "I'm so sorry that you had to see that."

In the distance, she heard the doorbell ring and the sound of low voices in the other room. A moment later, Hiroshi returned with a parcel in his hand. 

"Sorry to interrupt you two. Grace, honey? Were you expecting a package?"

She gently let go of her son, her eyes resting on what her father held.

"No, I wasn't expecting anything. Is that for me?"

Hiroshi nodded, his expression unreadable. He silently handed her the box.

Grace looked down and froze, the breath leaving her body. The package was addressed to her at her father's home, and the sender was Gabriel Knight. She stared mutely at the shipping label, her heart pounding.

He's back in the States, back in New Orleans. Back in my life? Impossible.

As if they had a will of their own, her hands tore open the thick cardboard. Inside she found a book and a brief note. She looked at the book first, recognizing the fine quality of the leather. She ran her hands over it, closing her eyes and remembering the nights she spent in the Library at Schloss Ritter, reading the same book in front of the fireplace. Wuthering Heights; how it had spoken to her very soul. 

She clutched the book to her chest, her eyes watering. My God, how did he know?

Hiroshi watched his daughter from where he stood, unsure of what to think about the situation. He reached for his grandson's hand with the intention of giving Grace some privacy. 

"Come on, buddy. Let's leave your mother to read her letter in peace."

Rafe's curiosity, which had kicked into overdrive since seeing his mother's reaction to the mysterious package, wasn't to be so easily denied. He leaned in for a closer look, greatly intrigued. His eyes sparkled like black diamonds against his pale skin.

"Mommy, what's that book?"

Grace didn't answer for a long moment, reluctant to abandon the pure joy that Gabriel's unexpected thoughtfulness had given her. She lowered the book onto her lap.

"This is my favorite book, sweetheart."

Rafe reached over and carefully touched the leather cover.

"It looks really old."

She smiled at his observation. "That's because it is. It's over 150 years old."

His eyes widened in amazement. "Who sent it?"

Grace thought for a moment before answering. 

"It's from an old friend of mine from before you were born."

Hiroshi broke in, renewing his attempt to get Rafe out of the room.

"Rafe, have you brought any other drawings to show me?"

The child's gaze remained on the book, his voice quiet.

"The one with the arm scar was the last of them, Grandpa."

Grace turned her head to stare at her son. Arm scar?

Rafe saw the shock and confusion in his mother's eyes.

"Will you read it to me, Mom? When you're feeling better?"

She nodded wordlessly, not knowing what she was agreeing to.

Hiroshi was done with waiting. He knew that Grace needed time to sort through this latest twist of fate, and she couldn't do that with an over-inquisitive child in her face.

"Rafe, come with me into the other room. Your mom needs to be alone."

Grace was grateful when they left, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She laid back against the pillows, and a tiny smile played on her lips as a quote from Sir Walter Scott suddenly came to mind. 

'Oh what a tangled web we weave / When first we practice to deceive.' No kidding.

A laugh escaped her, and she looked down at her lap again to see the note that she had forgotten to read in all the excitement. It was neatly folded, and for a long time she just stared at it, afraid of what it may contain. Then she slowly opened it and read.

'I cannot live without my life. I cannot live without my soul.' You have no idea how true Emily Brontë's words have been to my heart during your absence. Gracie, I must see you. I'm in New Orleans now, but I'm coming to New York very soon. We have to talk. I know that you called last week, and I want to let you know that I'm here for you. I want to help, and I want to tell you so many things that were left unsaid, things that I couldn't even begin to express in writing. I need to see you. Please, call me as soon as you get this so we can arrange to meet when I get there. I long to hear your voice again. Yours, Gabriel.

The letter went on to give his phone number, and the hand holding it began to shake. She let the paper fall back into her lap, and she briefly wondered if she was still unconscious, if she was imagining it all. She touched the paper again. Yes, it was real.

I can't imagine why he would go to such trouble as this. What does he want?

She shut her eyes in an attempt to ignore the tenderness of Gabriel's words. She couldn't let herself believe in the possibilities that he seemed to offer her in his writing. She felt like Eve in the Garden of Eden; she was so hungry for the juicy apple which dangled above her head, yet ever wary of the snake that tempted her to take a bite. 

I barely survived one encounter with his deadly fangs. Am I willing to serve myself up to him for seconds? He is a predator; his erotic bite is lethal, yet so addictive.

Grace read the letter again and again, trying to read between the lines and learn the true motivation behind every sentence, every word. She only saw support and concern, and that discovery conflicted with all that she knew of Gabriel Knight. 

Gabriel Knight, the man who had always looked out for himself until he became Schattenjäger, and even then he'd had the occasional slip. I should know. One of his most major slips involved me. 

She recalled that fateful night in Rennes-Le-Chateâu, and the great awkwardness and hurt that she'd experienced when they had seen each other the next morning. He'd pretended as if nothing happened between them, and she had felt like a sexual Kleenex, used and discarded. He had withdrawn from her and patronized her, while she'd continued to ache for him both physically and emotionally. 

The night before, she could have sworn that he'd looked at her with love shining in his emerald eyes. How mistaken she had been. She just happened to be a woman at a time when he needed one. Period.

She read the letter once more, shaking her head in disbelief. 

It's not possible; this couldn't have been written by the same man. This has to be some kind of cruel game, a malicious joke. The problem is, I'm not laughing. Damn him!

Breathing hard, Grace balled up the letter and threw it against the wall. Hot tears streamed down her face, and she let them fall. She grabbed a pillow from the bed and buried her face in it, trying to stifle the sobs which came from deep within. 

The old wound in her heart, which she had tried so hard to heal over the years, tore open and spilled out her emotions everywhere. She imagined that the bed, the floor and walls were covered with her sorrow. She wanted to throw things and scream at the top of her lungs at Gabriel, but she knew that she had no one to blame but herself. She had called him, and in doing so she had set herself up for more pain.

She eventually calmed down and left the bed, walking barefoot towards the discarded letter. She slowly bent down and picked it up from the cold floor, smoothing it out with her hands. Returning to the bed, she sat and opened her beloved copy of Wuthering Heights and placed the letter from Gabriel inside before closing it.

Something to remember him by, this lovely letter. Whatever he meant when he wrote it, I'll never know, because I'll never call him. But I'll keep his words with me and remember how they first made me feel, as if he actually cared for me. As if he loved me. What a beautiful dream.

At peace with her thoughts, Grace burrowed beneath the sheets. She returned to sleep with a soft sigh, the book pressed against her heart.



Dark Impulse Ch. 12



Gabriel stood on the beach, looking out over the water as the sun descended in the sky. He had been wandering along the shore all day, too restless to stay at the house or visit the shop. Lost in thought, he watched as the fading light danced upon the lake.

This is the place where it all began. The last time I was here, I only wanted to pick up some info for my book, but then I looked into Malia's eyes and was sucked into a world beyond anything my imagination could create. That happened so long ago; now, here I am again to continue my journey, waiting for Grace's call.

He absently patted his jacket pocket, where his cellular phone rested. He anxiously pulled it out and checked it. A quick glance confirmed that it was working fine, and he returned it to its place. He sighed in frustration, his gaze returning to the lake. 

The water was choppy; the late afternoon wind stirred the trees which bordered the beach, blowing around and disrupting Gabriel's hair. He didn't notice; his mind was completely focused on Grace. He wanted to hear her voice more than anything at that moment, but somehow he knew that she was probably wary of contacting him after such a long period of time. The hand in his pocket tightened briefly on the tiny gadget before he let out a shuddering breath, releasing the phone. 

She's not going to call. I knew deep down that she wouldn't, but I still hoped that she would at least accept my offering of support. I guess that I hurt her too much for her to even consider speaking to me again. Damn it, I need to show her how sorry I am, how much she means to me. I love her so much that I ache with it every moment that I'm away from her, ever since the day she left. 

He kicked a stone into the water, and watched the ripples spread across the surface. 

I must see her again, even if it's just to see that she's okay.

In the distance he heard the sound of wheels on gravel; someone was coming up the road. The wind blew harder, and Gabriel was blinded by his own hair as it covered his eyes. He raked his hand through the thick red mass, turning his head to watch for the approaching car. 

Gabriel heard the car long before he saw it; he heard a radio blasting rock music, and as the car drew closer he caught a glimpse of a blond-haired man wearing sunglasses despite the setting of the sun. It was Liam, and Gabriel found himself smiling slightly as his presence while at the same time he was anxious to question him about what had happened the night before. 

Removing the sunglasses, Liam stopped the rental car beside the beach where Gabriel stood, his eyes as blue-gray as the lake beyond. Gabriel walked up to where the convertible was parked on the side of the road, and the Irishman smiled at him in greeting.

"Hello, Gabriel. I stopped by the shop earlier, and your grandmother told me that you were here. Are you having second thoughts about accepting the case?"

Gabriel shook his head. "Not at all, but then again you made sure of that with that intriguing message you gave me. Now I want to know what that was all about, and you're going to tell me." 

Liam raised an eyebrow, yet remained silent for a long moment before replying. 

"Yes, I suppose that you are entitled to an explanation. I apologize if my message alarmed you in any way. I simply needed to force your hand, Gabriel. My employer needs your expertise, and he urged me to convince you to join us by any means necessary."

Gabriel leaned over the passenger side door of the convertible, locking eyes with Liam.

"Tell me what's going on. I want to know everything concerning the case, and how Grace is tied in with it."

Liam looked around at the deserted beach. The sky was a vision of indigo and peach, and the sun was long gone. He took a deep breath before addressing Gabriel.

"I don't know about you, but I'm famished. Follow me back into town and we'll talk about it over dinner, my treat. Does that sound good?"

As if on cue, Gabriel felt a hunger pang in his stomach. "Sounds great, actually."

Liam smiled. "Okay, then. Where's your bike?"

Gabriel tilted his head to indicate a nearby group of trees. 

"I've got it stashed over there. Wait until I'm on it before you start out, okay? There are thousands of restaurants in town, and I have no idea which one you have in mind."

At Liam's chuckle, Gabriel strode over to his motorcycle and got on. The convertible began to pull away as he revved up the bike, and he heard the radio blasting again. He turned to look at the water one last time before speeding away from the beach and all the memories surrounding it.

Gabriel followed Liam's lead, the wind whipping through his hair. He smiled as he recognized the song that was playing on the radio, David Bowie's "Wild Is The Wind." 

He listened to the mellow ballad, his mind again on Grace as he tried to swallow the disappointment that had enveloped him throughout the day when she hadn't called.

Love me, love me, love me, love me, say you doLet me fly away with youFor my love is like the wind, and wild is the windWild is the wind

Give me more than one caress, satisfy this hungrinessLet the wind blow through your heartFor wild is the wind, wild is the wind...

He navigated his bike along the road's twists and curves, remembering how Grace felt in his arms the last time he'd held her. He prayed that he would see her again, that she would somehow find it in her heart to accept his love and forgive him.

You touch me, I hear the sound of mandolinsYou kiss me,With your kiss my life begins

You're spring to me, all things to meDon't you know, you're life itself!

Gabriel nodded in agreement with the song's lyrics, his throat suddenly tight. She was everything to him, and he wouldn't let himself give up his pursuit that easily. She'd had the right not to call him, but if she thought it was going to end there, she was in for a surprise. A smile played on his lips as the rock ballad continued.

Like the leaf clings to the tree,Oh, my darling, cling to meFor we're like creatures of the wind, and wild is the windWild is the wind...

In all the years that he'd known Grace, he never thought of her as the kind of woman to ask for or accept help from a man. In this case, however, he desperately wanted to be there for her and care for her during difficult times. He wanted her to need him as much as he needed her, not only when there was an emergency, but all the time. He just wanted to be with her; he wanted to spend the rest of his life convincing her how wonderful she was. 

His heart thundered in his chest at the thought; not from the fear that he undoubtedly would have experienced years before, but from sheer joy and excitement. He wanted to marry her, if she'd have him.

They had arrived in the city. Liam parked the car outside a modest-looking restaurant in the French Quarter, and Gabriel pulled up to the curb alongside him. Liam got out of the car, beaming at his companion. They walked together to the front door, Gabriel in his trusty white T-shirt and jeans and Liam smartly dressed in a button-down blue shirt that brought out his eyes and khaki slacks.

"I think that I'd like to sample some of that famous New Orleans gumbo that I've heard so much about. Will it be too spicy for me to handle, do you think?"

Gabriel shrugged, a wicked gleam in his eyes. 

"I think that maybe you can handle it, but we'll see soon enough. Y'all don't have any spicy dishes in Ireland?"

Liam thought for a moment, then laughed at Gabriel's smug expression. 

"Not really, but our drinks would knock the wind out of you, Southern boy!"

They entered the establishment and were immediately seated. Liam eyed the menu with trepidation. 

"Maybe you should order for me, Gabriel. I'm completely out of my element here."

Gabriel grinned as he signaled for the waitress. 

"No problem. Miss, we'll both have a cup of the Zydeco Gumbo, the Crawfish Etoufιe and Red Beans & Rice as the main meal, and..." 

He trailed off with a look on his face that made Liam raise an eyebrow in mock suspicion. He turned back to the girl, who couldn't stop gaping at either of the handsome men that she was waiting on. He winked at her before continuing. 

"Bring us a platter of Cajun Fireballs for the appetizer, please."

The girl walked away with stars in her eyes, and Liam spoke up. 

"What on earth is a Cajun Fireball? I don't like the sound of that."

The corners of Gabriel's mouth twitched as he tried to hold back a laugh. 

"Don't you trust me, Liam?" He playfully batted his eyelashes at him.

Liam's eyes narrowed, but his shoulders were shaking with laughter.

"About as far as I can bloody throw you, mate. I'm warning you, don't send me to the hospital my first time out. I'm a spicy food virgin, be gentle."

The food came, and the two men chatted while they ate. Liam enjoyed the New Orleans cuisine as well as Gabriel's company. Gabriel felt the same way, but the tone changed as the meal drew to a close. It was time to discuss heavier matters.

After the plates were cleared from the table and the check was paid, Gabriel leaned forward. His eyes glittered in the dim light, and his voice was determined.

"Now, tell me everything that's going on with this case, and with Grace."

Liam stroked his chin, narrowing his eyes briefly before releasing a sigh.

"Gabriel, you know that I'm under orders not to discuss this case with you, despite the fact that you're already on board. Whatever questions you have concerning the case, you must address them to David himself when you meet him."

Gabriel had expected Liam's response, but that didn't lessen his frustration. He struggled to prevent his hands from balling into fists as he pushed on.

"When will that be, exactly?" 

Liam noticed that Gabriel's tone had lost its earlier warmth, and he decided to tread lightly. 

"I spoke with David earlier today when he called from London, and he assured me that he will return to New York on Wednesday."

Gabriel frowned. So that gives me three days in the city without knowing what the hell I'm supposed to be doing there. But I can use that time to contact Grace.

He focused again on Liam's words. "London? What's Anami doing there?"

"David has urgent business to attend to at the AE London branch. Today was the grand opening of the new Nanotechnology division of the company, and of course he had to be present. There are also other matters which require his attention before he can return to New York."

Gabriel tilted his head in interest. "What is Nanotechnology, exactly? I've heard the term many times, but I've never completely grasped the concept."

Liam's face flushed slightly. "Jesus Christ, it's such a vast subject, we could be sitting here all night! In a nutshell, Nanotechnology is the science of building devices and materials at the molecular and atomic level. Perhaps you've read or watched science fiction which featured the use of tiny robots; this is only one of the many potential forms of this rapidly growing science."

Liam leaned forward, his voice lowering. "There are many ways that Nanotechnology will one day be implemented, but the area in which David and I are most interested in using it is the field of Medicine. With the ability to create and manipulate molecules and atoms, the possibilities will be endless! Imagine a world where a person dying from cancer or heart disease could have their affected organs fixed or even replaced with healthy ones which would be grown using the technology! So many mysteries would be uncovered, and problems solved! Genetic research would become child's play, and disease would be ancient history! Oh God, listen to me. I'm sure I sound like a madman, carrying on like this. I'm very passionate about the technology."

Gabriel lifted a hand to stop Liam's self-conscious talk. "You don't sound mad, but we are straying away from the subject. Since you absolutely refuse to tell me more about the case, then let's discuss Grace. First of all, how do you know her?"

Liam sat back in his chair, regarding him thoughtfully. 

"Grace and I move in the same circles, and I am honored to have her as a friend. We are both great lovers of art, and we both hold places on several museum committees throughout Manhattan."

"How did the two of you meet?"

The Irishman smiled, his eyes darkening almost to the point of blackness.

"I met Grace through David, actually. Four years ago. She was such a remarkable and brilliant woman, and I immediately liked her. She's magnificent."

Gabriel nodded in agreement, but he felt ill at ease when he heard Anami's and Grace's names combined. Mosely's harsh words from the night before returned to haunt him, and he struggled to speak through his suddenly constricted throat.

"What is Anami to her?" 

His heart pounded in his ears as he waited for the answer. Liam's eyes met with his for a long moment, and Gabriel couldn't decipher what was behind them.

Liam took a deep breath before replying, watching Gabriel. Poor fool.

"David and Grace are friends, nothing more."

After hearing the words, Gabriel allowed himself to breathe again. He closed his eyes as a wave of pure relief washed over him, swept him away with joy. Beneath the table, his hands trembled slightly. He felt as if he was a child in an amusement park who had just passed through the scariest part of the rollercoaster, emerging unscathed on the other side. He eventually composed himself enough to continue.

"How did Grace and Anami meet?"

Liam sipped his scotch, choosing his words carefully.

"David and Grace met in the summer of '95, while he was vacationing in India. He hasn't told me much about that time, except that they'd had an instant understanding of one another and that they became fast friends. It was in a monastery that he found her, of all places, in a very secluded area near the border with Nepal and the mountains. It was the kind of place where a person goes when they need to hide from the world, and she was no exception."

Gabriel stared at Liam, the questions surfacing in his mind. 

Yes, she went there to escape me. But what was Anami doing there? 

"What about your friend? What was he hiding from?"

Liam grinned wolfishly, shaking his head. 

"Oh no, you don't. You really have a stubborn streak, don't you mate? You insist on learning everything too early in the game, and that's just not possible. There will be a time when you will know everything there is to know, that I promise you, but now is not the time."

Liam unfolded his long legs and stood, bringing Gabriel with him. He looked around and was surprised to find that they were the only customers left in the place.

"It's getting late, almost closing time. Come on, let's get out of here."

The two men walked out into the cool night, and Gabriel breathed in the fresh air as Liam unlocked the car and climbed in. He looked over his shoulder at where Gabriel stood beside his bike and called out to him.

"Get some sleep, Gabriel. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow. Come to my hotel at 10 o'clock so we can grab a bite before heading out to the airport. See you in the morning."

Gabriel watched Liam drive away, not realizing that he never got to ask how Liam knew about Grace and him until after the car disappeared into the darkness.

* * * 

Central Park West

Mosely stood in the shadows, his gaze drawn once again to the apartment building before him. His chest felt tight as he remembered what had happened that morning, and how truly frightened he had been when he saw Grace lying motionless on the cold ground. The child's screams had pierced his heart like a dagger.

The child. When he first saw the little boy, his lustrous black hair and soft midnight eyes briefly made Mosely believe that he was looking at a young girl, a perfect miniature of Grace. But after a split second of contemplation of the boy's features, something struck him as odd about his appearance but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what had bothered him. And then he'd realized the reason behind the child's shouting and that the collapsed woman was indeed Grace, and all of his energy and thoughts shifted to where it was needed the most. 

It had killed him to pretend indifference, to play the role of the anonymous jogger inconvenienced by performing a good deed. He wished that he could have abandoned the charade and offered to hold her again. Not as the kind stranger, but as the man who had always loved her, even when the great Gabriel Knight himself had not. He'd been greatly relieved when he saw the doctor enter the building after he had reluctantly let Grace go on her father's doorstep, and he took the opportunity to look for a convenient place to stay in town.

After his tempestuous phone conversation with Gabriel the night before, he'd taken the first flight to New York to see for himself how Grace was. Before he gave the address to Gabriel, he had looked it up on an online city map so he'd know where to keep an eye out for her. Based on the fact that she and the child had been walking together that morning by the Lake when he came upon them, and from bits and pieces that the boy had said as they walked to the San Remo building, Mosely guessed that their route had to have been more or less a straight shot across the Park. So their home had to have been close by; Mosely was dead set on locating it. 

The night was chilly, and Mosely shivered as he buried his hands in his pockets. 

She has a child, so she could have a husband. But she wasn't wearing a ring. Is it possible that she could be divorced, or even widowed?

Standing there in the darkness of the deserted park, he vowed to find out. Like Gabriel, he wanted to be the one to help Grace to sort through the recent madness. He wanted to be the one that she would turn to and confide in.

He clenched his teeth. But unlike Gabriel, I'd never hurt her or give her any reason to believe that I'm not trustworthy or honorable, or that what I feel for her is anything less than the strongest and deepest love. I want her to be happy.

Whistling, Mosely walked away into the night, his thoughts on his next move.



Dark Impulse Ch. 13



Covent Garden, London

David wandered aimlessly through the deserted streets, his heart breaking with every step he took. His eyes burned with unshed tears, and the pavement blurred before him. He didn't care; his mind was on the other side of the ocean as he walked, trying in vain to escape the demons that tormented his soul.

For a long time he stared into the Thames, and a part of him longed to enter its black embrace. He knew that he could do it if he wanted to; it was five in the morning, and no one would be around to witness his fall into the cold, dark river. By the time he was missed at the hotel, it would be too late. He doubted that he'd be missed at all in the personal sense; with the exception of Liam and perhaps his family, David believed that no one would truly mourn him if he was to leave the world of the living.

He cried out, his hands grasping the iron railing hard enough to draw blood. 

I've lost her. What's the point of continuing this farce of a life when I no longer have Grace by my side? She was my other half; my friend, my lover, the mother of my child. And now my life with her has crumbled into dust, blown away by the winds of change. The pain is tearing me apart, and I can't bear it. Why is this happening to me again? Why do I always sabotage myself whenever I have something wonderful in my life?

David closed his eyes, remembering the phone call that he'd received from his wife an hour before. His chest hurt as he recalled every nuance of Grace's voice, every breath she took, and every sigh she made as she said the words that he'd dreaded to hear, the words that tore out his heart. Opening his eyes, he leaned against the railing and watched the flow of the river as he calmly began to remove his clothes.

* * *

New York - One Hour Earlier

Grace stirred awake from the heavy fog of sleep which had enveloped her since earlier that morning, after she had received the package from Gabriel. She opened her eyes and was surprised to find her room completely dark; she rarely slept for so many hours. The glowing red numbers from the digital clock beside her bed told her that she'd been asleep for twelve hours straight; it was 11pm. 

She raised a hand, placing it on the pillow beside her head. With her fingertips she felt a curious wetness, and Grace knew that she must have cried while she slept. She sighed as she thought of her dreams and the ache that the memories caused in her head and heart. She sat up in bed and stared into the darkness, allowing herself to remember her trip down memory lane.

She had dreamt of Gabriel and the circumstances in which she had left him in France. She recalled everything in vivid detail; the feeling of uneasiness that she had felt the last day of the Night Stalker case, not just from Gabriel's indifference towards her after they'd made love but also because she was deeply afraid of his life being in danger in the underground caverns. She had felt helpless and afraid when she'd been forced to stay at the hotel and communicate with him through a headset, her heart in her throat as he had passed through deadly traps and cryptic puzzles to move forward through the maze and save Prince James's baby son.

When Gabriel faced the demon in combat, Grace's heart had stopped beating the entire time, frozen with fear over the possibility of losing him. After it was over, she had shouted into the headset, desperate to know that he was alive and safe. There was no answer, and despite Baza's assurance that all was well, she felt a chill grow inside her that would remain for years afterwards. 

Is this all that I am to expect from him? The path that I've chosen to follow him, having sacrificed the greater part of myself to join his cause, is slowly destroying me. I don't deserve this, the endless torment of unrequited love, of caring so much for someone who doesn't even think enough of me to let me know that he's unhurt.

After Baza left the hotel to join the others in the caverns, Grace had these thoughts in mind as she calmly packed her suitcase and wrote the goodbye note to Gabriel. As hard as she tried, she couldn't remember all that she'd written in the brief paragraph. Her mind had been divorced from her body, her thoughts already on the long journey ahead of her. 

The only line that she had committed to memory was the one that haunted her for months after she left; three months, to be exact. She remembered those words because she had written them deliberately to tell Gabriel where she would be in case he changed his mind about his feelings, in case he wanted to find her and bring her back home.

"Perhaps I'll find what I'm looking for with Chadrel."

She had hitchhiked to Toulouse, where she had taken a plane back to Paris and from there she flew to New Delhi, crying all the way because she hated being away from Gabriel. She was so tired and lonely, a lost soul in need of guidance and compassion. She had found them in Chadrel, who had been everything that she'd hoped for in a spiritual counselor, but in the end he hadn't been enough to prevent her from waiting in vain each day for Gabriel to call or show any sign that he gave a damn.

She'd waited for him like a lovesick fool, and he never came.

Then David came along; they'd met when Grace was at the end of her rope, her heart shattered and bleeding. Almost two months after her arrival at the monastery, she was walking in the mountains one day and had been overcome by a powerful wave of homesickness for the castle and a longing for its owner as well as for Gerde, who had been her best friend and the one person to whom she could tell anything. 

Grace remembered when she finally took a breath after a long crying spell, looked up and first caught sight of David Anami. He had literally taken her breath away; he was such a beautiful man, even though he was much older than she. She had fallen to her knees on the ground when the crying started, and when it was over he offered her his hand to help her up. She had gasped in shock at the first touch of his hand against hers. It was so warm, and so large that it had made her own look like a child's in comparison. 

These are the kind of hands that care for others, she thought then. These are the hands that offer help to a stranger, comfort to the sick, and love to a child. 

After that day, they quickly became inseparable. Grace had been glad to learn that David was staying in the immediate area of the temple, and every day for the following month they had spent time together either seeing the sights or just talking for hours about the many interests that they had in common. 

But David was always reluctant to talk about his past, she thought, her mind returning to the present. Whatever bits and pieces that he did share with me never added up, like a jigsaw puzzle without the end result; there was never a complete picture.

All that Grace knew about David's childhood was that he was born in Japan but raised in Ireland after his family moved there a few years after WWII ended. Jobs had been scarce in the coastal town where the Anami family had settled, and for that reason David's father was forced to go to London to work in a factory, sending most of his meager earnings to his wife and young son across the sea. But then something happened to his father, and David never continued the story. When she'd managed to get even those few details from him, it was obvious that his memories were greatly painful for him and for that reason Grace hadn't pried further into his past. 

Grace shivered and rose from the bed, leaving the room. Now, remembering their whirlwind courtship, she wished that she had insisted on knowing everything that made him who he was, because perhaps she would have had a clue as to why he was now changing into a person that she no longer wanted anything to do with.

But she hadn't thought of such things at the time; when she first met him, she'd looked at him and saw a kind soul. He was a man that she'd liked very much, someone that she could have deeply loved under different circumstances. After three months in India, when she suddenly fell ill, David had been the one to tenderly nurse her back to health. After she had fully recovered, he asked her to marry him and she accepted, hoping that in each other they could find the happiness which had eluded them everywhere else. 

Grace scoffed bitterly as she remembered that Chadrel himself had warned her about rushing into such a commitment with David. He told her that he had sensed that there was something not quite right about David's aura, and he asked her to be careful. 

When she had stubbornly insisted to Chadrel that she wanted to marry David and that she would be happy with him, he only said that the name "Anami" means "the man with no name" in Sanskrit. He warned her one final time, saying that a man who has no sense of identity is in danger of becoming apathetic or even hostile towards his fellow men. Or women. She ignored his words, not willing to hear anything that could turn her away from the dream of happiness that she sought. 

For a while, the dream came true. David whisked her away to Tokyo to get married, and for their honeymoon he took her around the world, showing her so many things that she would never have seen if she'd stayed with Gabriel. After a few months, the pregnancy began to slow Grace down so David decided that they would settle down in Italy until the baby was born. 

Italy was wonderful; they toured around the country before Grace chose Florence as the place where they would build their nest. David bought a beautiful villa with a view of the city, and Grace loved living in the area which gave birth to so many works of art. It was the fond memory of the months spent there that made Grace want to specialize in Renaissance art when she returned to school to obtain her doctorates. 

Grace smiled at the memory as she walked to the living room and switched on the lamp, her gaze briefly resting on one of her son's drawings on the coffee table.

She had waited until Rafe was a year and a half before she went back to Yale, even though it had been very difficult for her to leave him. But it had to be done; she believed with every fiber of her being that she had to return and finish her education, so that she wouldn't become just another Manhattan trophy wife with nothing to do in life but shop and host parties. Their situation is a precarious one; when their sugar daddy husbands get bored with them and, after a quickie divorce, eventually move on to the next woman, those types of women who gave up their own dreams and ambitions because their husbands were loaded are left with nothing.

Thank god that I had the sense to go against the grain and finish what I started. The fact that I have a solid profession of my own makes what I have to do so much easier, and it will ease the transition for both me and Rafe. I can't let the memories of how David once was cloud my judgment; he is still the one that keeps secrets and deceives those that trust him the most...

Grace closed her eyes as her next thought stopped her from reaching for the phone. 

Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black, honey? You haven't exactly been a paragon of virtue yourself concerning telling your husband, your supposed life partner, certain things about YOUR past. You're such a hypocrite.

She opened her eyes and reached for the phone again, her blood surging with anger. 

Maybe I am, but I've never been suspected of murder. There are too many coincidences, too many doubts for me to stay with him. I have to think of my son and what's best for him, and it's not subjecting him to what he's already experiencing as a result of my delaying the inevitable. This marriage is over.

She picked up the phone and dialed the number for David's hotel. 

"Hello, you have reached the Savoy. How may I help you?"

Grace's voice trembled slightly as she spoke. "David Anami's suite, please."

The night receptionist hesitated briefly before replying. 

"Excuse me madam, but are you aware that it is four o'clock in the morning here? It's possible that Mr. Anami may not want to be disturbed."

Grace's temper, which had been hovering over the edge for some time after waking, exploded at the young man's words. She couldn't stop herself from shouting into the phone, her voice crossing over the telephone lines and dripping with venom.

"You listen to me, and listen well. I am his wife, do you understand? I don't care what time it is over there, he will take my call. How dare you try to dissuade me from making this urgent call? Who the hell do you think you are?"

The young man sputtered in shock from her harsh words. 

"I... I do apologize, madam. I shall connect you presently."

She felt a pang of guilt while she waited for David to answer, and she wished that she could have exercised more self-control. It wasn't the boy's fault that her marriage was falling apart. But then she heard her husband's voice on the line and all thoughts of her earlier outburst and its unintended victim were driven from her mind.

"Hello?" 

His voice was rough from sleep, and Grace's throat locked up at the sound of it. Only when he spoke again did she force herself to reply. "Sorry I woke you."

"Grace? Is that you, darling?"

"Yes, David. It's me."

He sat up in bed, all of his attention focused on his wife's voice. She sounded as if she was on the verge of tears, and in the few words that she'd said, David detected an underlying tension which put him on his guard.

"Hiroshi told me what happened this morning. Are you feeling better?"

Grace fought tears as she pressed a hand to her chest. 

"Yes, I am feeling much better. Thank you."

David waited for her to say something else, but she remained silent. He could hear her shallow breaths over the phone, and he strongly wished that they were face to face so he could actually see her and ask why she was so upset.

But I already know. God help me, I know.

He shuddered as he clutched the receiver tighter in his hand.

"Grace, I am so sorry about last night. I don't know what came over me. I thought that you were going to leave me, and I just lost control. Please, forgive me."

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. 

"I forgive you, but unfortunately it's not enough that you apologized. Oh God, I don't know how to say this. This is one of the hardest things that I've ever had to do, David. You must understand that."

His heart was breaking as he listened to her, saying nothing.

Grace took a deep breath, gathering the strength that she needed to say the words. 

"David, I can't go on like this. I don't want to be married to you anymore. You're not the same person that I met all those years ago. You've changed for the worse, and I believe that it would be dangerous for Rafe and I to remain in the same household with you. There was a time when you were so gentle and kind, but now you are so easy to anger and your behavior towards myself and others has stopped just short of violence. But with Cooper you crossed the line, beating him senseless before he was killed in such a brutal fashion. I can't live my life with a man who resorts to using his fists to solve his problems, and I refuse to place myself and my child in harm's way. Raphael and I are afraid of you, David, and your reaction yesterday concerning the bloody shirt has given me cause to fear you more."

His free hand fisted in the sheets beside him, his face wet with tears. His voice cracked as he spoke into the phone, his pain evident in every word. 

"Grace, please consider what you're saying. I beg of you, please think about this before you do something irreversible."

She sat down on the sofa, her eyes darting around the room to make sure that she didn't wake anyone. Her gaze rested again on the coffee table, and she felt as if an electric shock had passed through her body. She leaned forward to stare at Rafe's drawing, and she shuddered at the realization of what it really represented.

Her eyes burned, fixed on the scar. "I haven't been able to think of anything else."

David's voice was ragged with emotion, and Grace pitied him as she listened.

"Damn it, I love you! You and the child have nothing to fear from me. I would rather die than hurt either of you, please believe that! I had nothing to do with Cooper's death, I swear it! Whatever uneasiness you saw in me when you came to my office was because I was worried that the business would be dragged under by speculation concerning the killing. One day AE will be passed down to Rafe, my darling, and I don't want anything to get in the way of that! Grace, please. Please don't abandon me now that I need you to stick by me the most!"

Grace silently touched her son's drawing, lovingly tracing the curved arm scar that she found there. She brought the sketch to her lips, and lightly kissed the mark before returning the paper to its rightful place. Her voice was faint as she spoke into the phone, fresh tears flowing.

"David, I'm sorrier than I can possibly say. I have made up my mind, and I truly believe that this is the best solution for all of us. Rafe and I will move out of the penthouse as soon as possible and live elsewhere until things are sorted out with the divorce. When you return, I hope that we will find a way to work together so we can spare each other further pain upon parting."

For a long moment she heard only heavy breathing on the line, but then he spoke in a hard, chilling tone that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"Well, then. I suppose there's nothing more to be said, is there?"

A soft click terminated the call, and Grace stared mutely at the receiver in her hand. With a heavy heart, she returned the phone to its cradle. 

"Mom?"

Grace turned sideways on the sofa to see her son standing in the doorway. She opened her arms, and he crossed the room to climb onto the couch. She held him tightly against her, her face buried in his silky hair. Her voice was muffled by it as she whispered to him, her voice trembling.

"How much did you hear?"

Rafe squeezed her waist tighter. "I heard enough."

A soft sob escaped her throat, and she cried against his hair. He broke the embrace as soon as she was finished, placing a tiny hand on top of hers.

"Are you scared, Mom?"

Grace wiped away her tears and looked at her son. "Very. How about you?"

Raphael shook his head emphatically, his eyes glistening in the light.

"Not anymore. Everything's going to be okay now."

Dumbstruck, she stared at her son. "Sweetheart, how can you be sure?"

Rafe said nothing; his only answer was a radiant smile that never failed to make her heart kick in her chest. He rose from the sofa and walked into Grace's bedroom, switching on the light and climbing into the bed. She followed him, covering them both with the thick layers of sheet and comforter. The small boy retrieved the leather book from underneath one of the pillows and handed it to his mother.

"Mom, would you read some of this to me? You promised that you would."

Grace smiled, remembering that she had promised him while in a state of shock as a result of hearing from Gabriel so unexpectedly. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Rafe how the image of Gabriel's scarred arm came into his mind, but she still wasn't ready for the answer. She concentrated instead on opening the antique book and locating the opening passages. Finding them, she kissed her son's forehead and began to read.

"Chapter One..."

She glanced at Rafe, and he beamed at her. With a returning smile, she continued, his earlier words repeating inside her mind and bringing her comfort.

Everything's going to be okay now.





Dark Impulse Ch. 13



* * *

Naked and trembling in the cool night, David crept over the railing which separated him from the swirling water. His breath was visible as he stood at the edge, his teeth clenched in anger at fate, himself, and Grace.

How could she do this to me? When I met her, she had nothing! She was weeping over some guy, lonely and depressed. I took her away from all that and gave her everything: my love, my money and my name! And this is how she repays me, by taking the love that I feel for her and throwing it back in my face?

He clenched his fists, disturbing the cuts that grabbing the railing had created on his palms earlier. Drops of blood began to fall from his injured hands, falling to the concrete at his feet. He looked down at his hands and began to laugh, lifting his handsome face toward the dark sky. 

David raised his arms in the air and let the blood flow from his hands, down his arms, until the drops splashed onto his bare chest and back. His body began to feel warm despite the low temperature of the night, and he closed his eyes to savor the sensation. It had been so long since he'd experienced the Change; he had almost forgotten how liberating it felt. Now, he would know it again.

Across his muscled back, there was a large tattoo of a black raven. The moon began to set in the sky as it made way for the dawn, its light reflecting off of the bird's midnight wings as David's blood mingled with the black ink. His back muscles rippled as he lowered his arms and began to rub the spilled blood into his skin, and he grew warmer as he reached back to touch the raven's wings and felt velvety feathers where once there was painted flesh. 

It was beginning.

David addressed the dark sky, his hands lovingly caressing the blood-soaked feathers at his back. 

"Oh, Great Queen, Mother of the Earth and Sky! Hear my soul cry out in rage as I stand before you! Morrigan, set me free!"

His flesh burned white-hot as soon as the words were spoken, and he closed his eyes as his body began to transform. Yes, take me into your care, my little friends. Let me join you in flight. Make me forget the pain, if only for a little while.

He cried out as he fell to the concrete. The formerly tattooed raven came alive and sprung from his back with an audible caw, followed by another and then another. 

With each bird that emerged from David's back, his human body faded away until there was nothing left of his previous form. The birds were of David, and David was of the birds; it was a never-ending circle of metamorphosis and belonging, and if he was capable of tears while in raven form, he would have cried from the joy he felt. 

At his unspoken command, he and the rest of his flock spread their wings and took to the sky, their caws echoing over the Thames and the approaching sunrise.



Dark Impulse Ch. 14



Knight Residence

April 1, 2001

The early morning sun gradually filled Gabriel's room with its light. He slept on, completely absorbed by the dream that was taking shape behind his closed lids.

* * *

The soft summer breeze gently stirred Gabriel's hair, waking him up. He opened his eyes and winced as the blinding light of the sun shone directly into them. Shutting his eyes, he swore in a low voice. As he waited for his eyes to clear themselves of the bright flash, he became aware of a subtle rocking sensation, as if he was back in the cradle. He cautiously opened his eyes again, and a long glance at his surroundings confirmed his suspicions. He was on a boat. 

All of the earlier ice had melted away from the lake and was replaced by beautiful and clear water. Gabriel's small rowboat floated at the center, and he observed the trees which stood along the water, their leaves fresh and green. His gaze was drawn to the high buildings that seemed to play peek-a-boo with him from behind the trees, and he realized exactly where he was.

Central Park. I'm getting closer to Grace, I can feel it.

With a feeling of nervous anticipation in his belly, Gabriel grabbed the oars and began to row to shore. He drew closer to his destination, the muscles of his back and arms moving beneath the white linen shirt that he wore. Sweat gleamed on his forehead from the effort of rowing; he lifted a hand to wipe it away as he glanced at the shore behind him, and froze at what he saw. 

Someone waited for him. He knew with every fiber of his being that it was Grace.

He pumped his arms faster, his eyes never leaving the figure in the distance. The boat reached the shore and Gabriel quickly climbed out of it, not caring that it drifted away as soon as he left. She waited patiently for him as he ran to her, his heart racing. She was wearing a sleeveless dress, its peach hue complimenting her creamy skin. He had longed to touch her for ages, hold her. She was finally within his reach.

Gabriel drew to a stop before her, breathing heavily from fatigue and desire. Grace watched him with a cool expression, but he saw the fire in her eyes when she looked at him, the yearning that she tried so hard to hide. He didn't want her to conceal it; he wanted to bask in its heat, roll around with her in the flames. 

He started to raise his hand to touch her face, but the frightened look in her eyes gave him pause. In that moment she looked as if she was a wild animal confronted by a man offering it food and shelter, and she had to decide whether to trust the stranger or flee to the safety of the woods. He gave her the chance to retreat, and when several seconds had passed he finally made contact. 

At the touch of Gabriel's hand on her cheek, Grace's eyes closed briefly before their eyes met and held. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. She didn't pull away. He leaned forward, bringing his face close to hers. His voice was hoarse as he whispered the words he'd waited so long to say, and he felt her tremble against him.

"I love you."

A sob escaped her lips as she broke away from his embrace, and he felt as if he'd been stabbed in the heart. She whirled around, facing away from him. He watched helplessly as she cried, her shoulders shaking from the intensity of her emotions. He reached out to her, placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him. He repeated the words over and over, determined to make her believe them. Tears escaped from her eyes, and he kissed them away.

Gabriel realized that she hadn't spoken a word the entire time, and he was anxious to know what she was thinking. "Gracie, please say something."

Grace's eyes opened, and she looked down at her hands. She opened them and he saw that they were full of some yellowish grain. It took a moment before Gabriel could figure out what it was; it was birdseed.

She looked into his eyes, and her face was curiously blank as she spoke.

"The birds are hungry, Gabriel. I must feed them."

She suddenly flung out her arms, and from out of nowhere a large black raven landed on her hand and fed delicately on the birdseed. Gabriel, having stepped back when the bird first appeared, stepped closer to watch it eat. His stomach churned, filled with a strange tension and fear. He reached out his hand to stroke the raven's wings, and the bird turned its head quickly away from the seed and stared straight at him. The sight of the bird's beady eyes made Gabriel feel cold inside, and before he could react the raven plunged its sharp beak into the soft flesh of Grace's arm.

Grace screamed from the bird's attack, and Gabriel leapt forward in an attempt to swat it away. The raven mercilessly pecked her fragile skin again and again, driven by some unknown desire to cause her agony. Gabriel roared in anger as he unsheathed his dagger, wanting to rip the offending animal apart. Upon seeing the dagger the bird flew away, its caws mocking the Shadow Hunter as its wings flapped against the wind. 

He resheathed the dagger and knelt down to tend to Grace where she had fallen. She clutched her arm, her entire body quaking with shock. He tore off his shirt and wrapped it tightly around her arm to try and stop the bleeding. He stroked her hair as he pulled her to him, whispering that it was over. She wrapped her good arm about his waist as he helped her up, and they both froze when they heard the sounds in the distance. They looked into the sky and saw a multitude of black shapes approaching fast, so many that they blocked out the sun.

Gabriel grabbed Grace's good arm, bringing her with him as they began to run. After a few steps, she let go of his hand and extended her mangled arm towards some point among the trees. She softly whispered something that he couldn't hear, her bleeding arm beckoning to no one.

His heart pounded with fear, and his voice was rough with concern.

"Gracie, what are you doing? We have to go now!"

She was staring at something that he couldn't see, and he knew that they would be overcome by the raven flock if they delayed much longer. He tried to grab her, but she fought him with all her might. 

"Please, we have to wait!"

He glanced at the sky, which was rapidly turning black from the sheer mass of the swarm. She also saw the danger but she remained where she stood, her bad arm waiting to be taken. The furious caws grew louder, and Gabriel had to scream to be heard over the noise.

"Wait for what, Gracie? What are you waiting for?"

* * *

The alarm clock went off and Gabriel jerked awake with a sharp gasp, his arms automatically rising to fight off the imaginary black birds. Even when he looked around and realized that he was safe in his old room, he didn't relax. 

Something is going on in New York where Grace is concerned, and she's seriously at risk of being hurt. Or worse. I need to find out what's going on with her.

He rose from the bed and began to dress, his thoughts centered on locating Grace. He decided that as soon as he was settled in the city, he would try and see her at the address that Mosely gave him on Friday night. If for some reason she wasn't there, he would try her office at Columbia on Monday morning. 

He left the room and climbed the stairs to the attic, wanting to see his portrait again. Stepping closer, he stared at the likeness that Grace had so lovingly created. He lightly touched the wooden frame, clearing his mind to receive whatever information the painting had to give him. He closed his eyes, his senses taking over.

* * *

Gabriel saw a large room, obviously an artist's studio. Sunshine streamed in through the many windows. Perhaps one of them was left open; the air was crisp and refreshing. He breathed it in, and detected a hint of linseed oil along with the familiar smell of fresh paint. He looked at the canvas and saw a rough outline of his face, his hair streaked with shades of vermilion and his emerald eyes flashing back at him.

Grace was sitting in a chair, a gin and tonic in her hand. She sipped her drink as she contemplated the painting. She wore a white artist's smock over a black cocktail dress and high heels, her hair piled on top of her head. She looked as if she was dressed for a night on the town. Gabriel missed how she used to look when she was with him, back when she was more casual and natural. He continued to watch her with his mind's eye, trying to reconcile the old Grace with the new.

She leaned forward and with a bitter smile, lifted her glass to the portrait. 

"Knight, you heartless bastard. Here's to you! With this painting, may I finally be free of you! My heart was yours from the very beginning, but you never wanted it. Even now, it still belongs to you despite my not wanting it to. Hopefully this project will get you out of my system for good, and then I can finally move on with the rest of my life! Damn you, and damn me for still loving you after all this time!"

She drained her drink in one gulp, and Gabriel wished that he could speak with her. Just then, there was the sound of a buzzer going off. Grace rose from the chair and walked towards the intercom, pressing the button. 

"Who is it?"

"It's me, love. Let me in."

Gabriel recognized Liam's voice, and he felt a sharp pang of jealousy. He heard Grace sigh briefly before she pressed the button again to reply. 

"Liam, I'm working on something important right now. Can't I just come down?"

"What's the big secret, Grace? You can't show me this thing that's taking up almost all your time now? We don't see you anymore these days, mate."

After a moment, she let Liam in. Gabriel watched them greet each other in the European way, kissing each other on both cheeks. Seeing this, he felt relieved that their relationship was more platonic in nature. 

Before Liam arrived in the studio, Grace had covered the portrait with a cloth. The Irishman kept peeking at the shielded canvas with unveiled curiosity. Flustered, she tried to distract him by making small talk, pouring a drink for him.

"Would you like a drink? How long do we have before the party begins?"

Liam waited until Grace's back was turned before he pulled away the cloth.

"I'd say we have about twenty minutes before we have to hit the road. The traffic is bound to be crazy at this hour... oh, my. Who is this, lovely? He's quite tasty."

Grace blushed hard at Liam's words, and Gabriel felt a similar flush creeping on his face and neck with the realization of his new acquaintance's personal tastes. But whatever discomfort he felt was quickly forgotten when Grace spoke.

"This, my good friend, is the man who broke my heart once. It took me a very long time to recover. Let's just leave it at that, shall we?"

Liam raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Not even a name for me, darling?"

She took a deep breath. "It's not worth mentioning, believe me."

Liam regarded the painting again, wondering at the man behind the image.

"Since he's so unworthy of discussion, why bother to paint him?"

Frowning at his question, Grace sipped at the fresh drink that she'd fixed. 

"Because I want to say goodbye to the past, and this is as good a way as any."

Liam placed an arm about her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

"Well, my dear, good luck. I think that we should leave now for the party."

Grace pulled off her artist's smock and draped it over the chair as Liam picked up her coat from the rack by the door, holding it out for her to slip into. As they left the studio, Gabriel released his hold on the picture frame and returned to the present, his mind whirling from all that he saw and heard.

* * *

Gran said that Grace gave her the finished portrait sometime last year, so the things that I just saw happened at least a year ago! Jesus, this ability to pick up echoes of past events still scares the shit out of me at times, and it gives me a headache. God!

He heard the sound of footsteps on the attic stairs as he stepped away from the portrait, and a minute later Gran touched his shoulder. He turned to her, speechless from the shock of what he'd just experienced. Rebecca didn't need an explanation; she knew that he'd be able to pick up something. They embraced, and she spoke to him as Gabriel looked at the portrait for the last time.

"Good luck with everything, my sweet boy. Give Grace my love, as well as yours. Help her in any way that you can, and watch your back."

He hugged her tightly. "I will, Gran. You know I will."

A few minutes later, Gabriel left the house and hurried towards the taxi that was waiting for him. Rebecca watched him from her front porch. He waved to her and shouted over his shoulder as he climbed into the cab. 

He gave her a wink. "Love you, Gran! Take care of my bike, will ya? Other than you and Grace, she's my best girl!"

Gran chuckled as the taxi drove off, and she watched it until it was gone. 

It was 10am sharp when Gabriel arrived at the Ritz-Carlton. As soon as he entered the elegant lobby, he was escorted to Liam's suite on the top floor. Inside, there was a flurry of activity; Gabriel observed several bellhops entering and leaving the room, preparing Liam's belongings for his departure from the hotel. 

Liam's voice called out to him from the balcony. "Gabriel, I'm out here."

Gabriel stepped out onto the balcony, which had a wonderful view of the French Quarter a mere block away from the hotel. Since it was Sunday, Liam was dressed casually in jeans with a long-sleeved white shirt and a dark blue sweater that brought out his enigmatic eyes. His shoulder-length blond hair was still damp from his morning bath, and its texture made Gabriel think of a lion's mane. 

Liam nodded his head to Gabriel in greeting, his eyes bright with excitement. 

"Good morning, Gabriel. I trust that you slept well?"

Gabriel forced a neutral expression. "Well enough for the circumstances."

Liam smiled as he poured coffee for the both of them.

"Today is the big day. I must say, as charming as I find New Orleans, I am quite relieved to be returning to New York and back to work."

Sitting down across from Liam, Gabriel took his cup and sipped the potent brew.

"What are you going to do with the business while Anami's away? You did say that he's returning on Wednesday, right? You'll be holding the fort for two whole days."

Liam reached for a croissant and took a hearty bite, deep in thought.

"I suppose that I'll be handling things the way I always do when David is off on business. That means that I'll sign the papers that require a signature, make the deals that need to be made and brief David on all new developments via conference calls."

Gabriel bit into a blueberry muffin as he listened to Liam speak. More than anything, he wanted to talk about the vision that he saw of Grace and Liam in the studio, but he knew that it would be wise to keep it to himself for the time being. 

Finishing his breakfast, he cleared his throat. 

"Well Liam, it seems that you and Anami are running a tight ship. The two of you must be very proud to have such a successful company. I want to change the subject now, and ask you something that's been on my mind since last night."

Liam smiled, his teeth flashing in the sun. 

"Does that something concern Grace, by any chance?"

Gabriel leaned forward, his green eyes scrutinizing Liam's dark blue ones.

"How did you find out about me and Grace exactly?"

Liam stood up from the small table and looked down at the street below. Gabriel watched him, secure in the knowledge of his vision. He'd been wondering for some time if Liam could be trusted, and Gabriel knew that he'd be able to catch him in a lie if his answer deviated from what he had seen himself using his second sight. 

Liam turned to face Gabriel, leaning against the balcony. His smile was gone.

"About a year ago, Grace and I were due to appear at some charity dinner or other for the museum and I went to pick her up at the studio..."

Gabriel couldn't stop himself from interrupting. "What studio? Whose is it?" 

Liam sighed heavily, his eyes darkening. 

"I own a studio apartment in Hell's Kitchen, and I rent it to Grace for her personal use. She paints there, and she also uses the apartment when she needs to be alone."

Gabriel sat back in his chair, regarding Liam. "Go on."

The Irishman gripped the balcony railing behind him. 

"I was curious about what she was working on, so I went up and looked. I saw your face, and I asked her about you. She wouldn't tell me, but as she looked at the canvas her eyes were full of such anguish, such longing. It both worried me greatly and piqued my interest. Since Grace was so obviously upset over you, I couldn't rest until I knew who you were."

Gabriel stood and walked up to Liam. "Why?"

Liam's eyes were somber as he replied, his voice rough and low. 

"Because Grace has been a wonderful friend to me, and I respect and love her. I can't bear to see her unhappy, and I would do anything to bring her life out of the shadows and back into the light. She is in so much pain, and despite her claims that she doesn't need any help with her problems, I believe that there's one thing that can turn everything around. You. The best thing for her now is you."

Gabriel's heart lurched in his chest at Liam's words. 

"But how did you make the connection between me and Grace?"

Liam shrugged, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a smile.

"It wasn't hard to figure out. Sometime after the episode in the studio, your last novel was released. 'Sacred Blood,' was it? Anyway, Grace and I were taking a walk one day and we passed a bookshop which had a large promotional display in the window, complete with your picture. Grace looked at me and realized that I had matched the name with the face, and she told me that she used to work for you. Of course, it had to have been more than that."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed. He was still unsure of Liam, so he decided to bait him. 

"What makes you so sure that Grace's dismissal of me wasn't deserved? How do you know that I'm not a complete bastard, the type of person who destroys everyone and everything that he touches? What makes you think that I won't hurt her any more than I have already?"

Liam placed his hands on Gabriel's shoulders, staring into his eyes.

"You know, they say that the eyes are the windows to the soul."

The breath stopped in Gabriel's throat. "Yes?"

"You're so open, Gabriel. Right now I can see the very heart of you, and somehow I know that you are deeply regretful of the past and that you want so much to be forgiven for what you've done, whatever it was. Now you have your chance. In a few minutes we're going to leave for New York and Grace. Will you take it, or will you spend another several years in isolation and despair?"

Gabriel stared at Liam, at a loss for words. A soft knock distracted the two men.

Liam turned toward the closed French doors. "Yes?"

A bellhop stepped onto the balcony. "The limo is ready, Sir."

"Excellent. Thank you."

The bellhop left, and Liam faced Gabriel again. "Shall we go?"

Gabriel gave a terse nod, his emotions in an uproar. He followed Liam out of the suite and out of the hotel, his mind otherwise engaged. He remained silent throughout the ride to the airport, his thoughts on Grace and how he would approach her in the city. He hoped to God that she would respond to him, or else his heart would break into so many pieces that it would never be whole again.

The limo stopped near a small airstrip close to the airport, and Gabriel looked out of the window and saw an impressive looking private jet with the initials "AE" emblazoned on the tail. He let out a low whistle as he and Liam stepped out.

They boarded the plane, and Gabriel's jaw dropped as he took in every detail of the interior. They sat down, facing each other across a table which was apparently used for in-flight board meetings. Liam motioned for the stewardess to bring a leather briefcase to the table. She set down the case in front of Gabriel, and he looked at Liam with a curious expression.




Dark Impulse Ch. 14



"Go ahead, open it. Consider this an advance payment for your services." 

Gabriel opened the case to find a brand-new laptop computer. He'd been planning to buy one himself since his last one conked out on him a few years back.

He smiled at Liam with genuine appreciation. "Thanks a lot. This definitely saves me the trouble of searching the electronic stores for a new one. I'm useless when it comes to shopping for technical gadgets."

Liam smiled back, relaxing in his seat. "You're very welcome. The jet has ready Internet access if you wish to do some research during the flight."

Gabriel was amazed at Liam's thoughtfulness. In his constant worry over Grace, he had completely forgotten about researching the case. 

"Thank you very much, Liam. I think I will."

The plane took to the sky, and as soon as they were airborne Liam lowered his window shade and settled down for a nap. Gabriel turned on the laptop and opened his duffel bag as the operating system loaded up. He retrieved a CD-ROM from an inside pocket, its label completely black except for a small image of the Ritter talisman on it. 

The disc contained all of the files of the Shattenjäger database, and was programmed to automatically install the Sidney program. He inserted the disc into the laptop and patiently waited until the setup was complete.

Gabriel stared at the "Search" function, considering how to proceed. He suspected that it would take all day for him to sort through the results of such a general term as "Possession," so he changed tactics and chose to literally follow his dreams to see where they would lead. He typed "Raven" into the search engine. 

The stewardess served him coffee, and he sipped the dark brew as he viewed the search results. A link on the screen caught his eye: "Cultural Symbolism of the Raven." 

Intrigued, he clicked on it and began to read.

The raven, like its close relative the crow, is a bird which is highly associated with death, loss and war in Western Europe but widely venerated elsewhere. Its sinister reputation was largely influenced by its association with the Morrigan, the Celtic goddess of War as well as the war god Odin of the Viking culture. In the Old Testament, the raven was the astute bird which Noah released from the Ark before the Dove. In Ancient Greece, the raven was the messenger bird for Apollo (god of light, intellect, healing, prophecy, the arts and music) and of Athena (goddess of wisdom). In both Chinese and Japanese cultures, the raven is the emblem of family love. In African and Native American cultures, the raven is a spirit guide who warns of impending danger...

Gabriel closed his eyes as an image came to him of a woman and child. 

In his mind, the faceless woman clutched the child tightly to her, guarding it from dangers unseen. Suddenly, a gigantic pair of midnight wings materialized from thin air and enveloped the two figures from behind before everything went black. 

He opened his eyes and stared at the clouds outside the window, confused. Was the bird protecting them or attacking them?

Family love. What the hell am I missing? There is something that I must know, something that lies just beyond my reach. Damn, damn, damn!

He took a shuddering breath and turned back to the laptop screen. He mentally reviewed the small details that Liam had given him about David Anami during their conversation at dinner the night before. 

They had grown up together in a small Irish village by the sea, Crosshaven. Anami had moved there with his family at the tender age of five, while anti-Japanese sentiments were still running high in the years after WWII. It had been tough for the family to start over in such conditions, and the father had to go off to England to find work since all the jobs in the area of Crosshaven were curiously closed to him. Even though the elder Anami sent money to the family whenever he could, the mother and child still suffered greatly in his absence. Then one day, the news came that the father would never return; there was an accident at the factory in which David's father slipped and fell from a great height, and he was torn apart by the machinery on which he landed. 

He shook his head, trying to dismiss the gruesome mental image. It was a horrible way to die. Having lost his own parents tragically, Gabriel felt a powerful wave of empathy for the man whom he had yet to meet in person. 

He clicked on the link to read about the role of ravens in Celtic lore.

In Neolithic times (Between 6000 B.C. and 2000 B.C.), the raven was considered to be a conductor of souls by the Celts. They believed in excarnation, which was the removal of the flesh of the dead in order to liberate the soul. When a person died, the body would be suspended on an erected wooden platform and left outside until birds have picked the deceased's bones clean, thus allowing the soul to leave for the next world. 

The Bird Goddess, the Morrigan, was the collector of these souls. She (although she is also known to appear as a trio of goddesses) was honored as the goddess of death and rebirth; since the early Celts called upon her to give new life to the souls that she took from the dead, the legend of the Stork bringing newborn babies in its beak to expectant couples was born.

Gabriel smiled briefly at the thought before he continued reading.

After the region was invaded and ravaged by the Kurgans, an early Indo-European race which originated from what is now known as Russia, the Celts were introduced to war, bronze weapons and social stratification (class division). The burial rituals of old were abandoned as a result of the Kurgans' influence, and the once benevolent Morrigan, the Great Queen who led the souls of the dead to the other side, became the Battle Raven whose flock fed on the corpses of those who died on the battlefield.

The Celts believed that, as they engaged in warfare, the Morrigan flew shrieking overhead in the form of a raven or carrion crow. When the battle had ended, the warriors would leave the field until dawn so that the Morrigan could claim the trophies of heads, euphemistically known as "the Morrigan's acorn crop."

Gabriel shuddered hard at what he just read, his voice low and hoarse. 

"Sweet Jesus, what am I getting myself into?"

He forced himself to finish reading, apprehensive over what he may find.

In spite of the bloodthirstiness described above, the Morrigan is known to be the protector of women and children, and is also the goddess of fertility and sexuality. She is the appropriate deity for those who are strong and independent in nature, particularly those on a warrior path in their lives. Ritualistically speaking, followers of the Morrigan honor and invoke her by using a number of items in their rituals which include (but are not limited to) a raven or crow feather and blood. 

It has been rumored that a number of the Great Queen's devotees have taken their worship a step further and actually offered themselves to the Morrigan to be used as instruments to carry out her will. However, such claims have yet to be confirmed. 

Gabriel snapped out of the spell that the article created, and he glanced briefly at Liam's sleeping face before turning his eyes back to the window. He watched the clouds outside, allowing his mind to drift for a while before his thoughts returned to the last paragraph that he'd read. 

Is there such a thing as voluntary possession? Is that the "step further" that the Sidney article mentioned? Looks like I'm about to find out.

He brought up the search engine and typed "Possession." After a few seconds, he saw that the program had divided the results into two categories: demonic and spiritual. Gabriel knew that demonic possession dealt exclusively with the Devil and his demons, but he knew next to nothing about the other kind. 

He clicked on "Spiritual Possession" and read the article provided.

Unlike demonic possession, where the person is thought to be taken over by the Devil or his demons for harm, spirit possession is a voluntary, culturally sanctioned displacement of the personality. The spirits, whether they are deities, angels, demons, advanced entities, or the dead, are invited to enter a human person to educate and communicate with the living or just because they do not realize they are dead and need help in passing to their next realm...

The article went on to discuss the Holy Spirit and the Apostles; Gabriel skipped ahead, searching for something that was more fitting to the case.

Spirit possession is not restricted to Christians but has been and is practiced by many groups and cultures throughout the world. The Greek civilization had their oracles that prophesized future events...

Gabriel continued to scroll down the page, anxious to read more.

The concept of spirit possession by various deities plays a major role in religious worship in the Caribbean, the Middle East, India, and Africa. In the Caribbean and especially Africa, a variety of Voudoun (also Voodoo) religions are found. This possession is often sought after, and is considered to be received by only a worthy person. The possession usually occurs during religious ceremonies and only lasts during the event. Becoming possessed is known as "mounting the horse." The horse is the person or victim who "manifests" the spirit, and the spirit is the one who "rides" him or her...

A chill ripped through him as he remembered the Voodoo Murders and the way Tetelo "rode" Malia so many years before, and he felt a bitter taste in his mouth. He turned his attention back to the article.

In Neo-paganism there are two rituals which involve spirit possession. They are the "Drawing the Moon" which is the invoking of the Goddess (Moon) into the high priestess, and is more prevalently celebrated; and the "Drawing the Sun" which invokes the God (Sun) into the high priest. According to the beliefs in Neo-pagan witchcraft, during the ritual of "Drawing the Moon" the priest invokes the Goddess or Triple Goddess, symbolized by the phases of the moon, into the priestess. Others believed the priestess invokes the Goddess into herself. The ritual usually occurs within what is known as the magic circle. Depending on the priestess' attitude she often experiences the spirit possession of the Goddess, during which time many believe the Goddess speaks and works blessings through the priestess. The priestess' elated feeling can linger for days afterwards. There can be a similar experience for the priest who has been possessed by the God.

Gabriel clicked his tongue as he finished reading, feeling doubtful that the information that he just read had any relevance concerning what was going on. He shut down the Sidney program and closed the laptop. He stretched in his seat and resumed his cloud watching, wondering what Anami would ask of him. 

He watched the soft white clouds as he let his mind wander. He thought of Grace, and he hoped that he'd be able to see her before the day was out. He considered what he would say to her, wondered how she would react to his presence. His thoughts were consumed by her for the remainder of the flight, until he looked up and realized that he could see Manhattan in the distance as the plane approached JFK. 

He stared at the World Trade Center, the twin towers serving as a beacon of hope to Gabriel as the plane drew closer to the city. He watched the water surrounding the island sparkle in the sunlight, and he wished with everything that he had that when he finally saw Grace and made it clear that he would do anything for her, she wouldn't turn him away.

I'm coming for you, Gracie. You are not alone in this, I swear it.



Dark Impulse Ch. 15



The Greenwich,
65 West 13th Street,
Greenwich Village

Liam unlocked the door and the two men entered the spacious loft apartment. Gabriel looked up at the high ceiling and watched the sunlight play upon the walls. He turned back to find Liam watching him expectantly.

"So what do you think? Let me show you around the place."

Gabriel followed Liam as he pointed out the living room, the kitchen and the study. In the bedroom, Liam opened the closet door and Gabriel peeked inside to find it filled almost to bursting with new clothes. He looked at Liam, who grinned broadly with an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

"Forgive me, Gabriel, but I took the liberty of having these clothes brought over for you. How can I say this? Your particular look, while it has that interesting "Rebel Without a Cause" thing going on, won't go over very well here in Manhattan. Anyway, I hope that I guessed correctly about your size. If not, you can send them back."

Gabriel's mouth curled up at the corners. "When in Rome..."

The air was suddenly filled with a sharp beeping, startling the two men. It took a few seconds before Gabriel realized that it was coming from Liam's pocket. 

Liam reached for the phone and muttered a brief "Excuse me" before he pressed the button to receive the call. "Kilpatrick."

Gabriel observed the large and luxurious bed behind him, and he imagined spending hours there with Grace. Not just hours, but days. The fleeting fantasy made him feel weak in the knees and hard as steel. He forced himself to concentrate on Liam's phone conversation so he could pull himself together. When his arousal was under control, he turned around to face Liam again.

Liam's face was drained of all color, and his breathing was ragged. He didn't speak for a long moment while he listened; obviously the person on the other end of the connection was the bearer of bad news. Gabriel watched as Liam took a deep breath and responded in a distracted tone.

"Yes, I see. I'll come to London at once. Thank you for informing me."

The call was terminated but Liam continued to stare at the phone, frozen.

Gabriel finally spoke up. "What's wrong?"

Liam jumped at the sound of Gabriel's voice; he had forgotten that he was in the room. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, willing himself to snap out of his worried trance. He managed to get a hold on his emotions and addressed Gabriel.

"I'm afraid that I must leave you now, Gabriel. There's an emergency in London and I must go there at once. I don't know when I'll be back. You'll be okay on your own, won't you? There's plenty of good restaurants and markets in the area, and the refrigerator is fully stocked. Just speak with the concierge if you need anything."

Liam was about to rush out the door when he remembered that he was still holding the keys to the apartment. Flustered, he handed them to Gabriel before leaving without another word. Gabriel watched him go, his mind filled with questions. 

He closed the door and dead bolted it before heading towards the study. He set up the laptop on the desk and turned it on before connecting to the Internet. He pulled out his notebook and found the address that Mosely had given him, and he typed it into the search engine. He studied the map that he'd found before shutting down the Internet connection and then the laptop. 

Picking up the phone, he pressed the button for the concierge. 

"Hello, this is Serge. How may I help you, Mr. Knight?"

"Would you call me a cab, please?"

"Of course, Sir. Where would you like to go?"

"The San Remo building, 145 Central Park West."

"I will call you in a moment to let you know."

Gabriel returned the phone back to its cradle and stood up to look out of the window. His loft faced the busy street, and he watched the people going by and wondered what Grace was doing at that moment.

The phone rang a moment later and he snatched it up on the first ring. 

"Hello?"

"Your taxi is here, Sir."

"Thank you very much."

His heart pounding with anticipation, he rushed out to the waiting cab. 

* * *

The San Remo

Grace was slipping on her jacket as Hiroshi appeared, his face solemn.

"How long are you going to be out?"

She finished and turned away from the mirror, facing her father. She saw the concern on his face, and she wanted to convince him that she would be okay while running her important errands. They had to be done. 

She walked to him and placed a hand on his cheek. "An hour, maybe two."

Hiroshi's eyes narrowed, and Grace knew that he didn't care for the situation. He sighed heavily, determined to stand by his daughter's decision and to offer her support in any way he can. 

They walked together to the front door, Hiroshi's hand on Grace's shoulder. 

"I'll take care of the boy while you're gone. Watch your back, do you hear me? Be on the lookout for any suspicious looking characters. If you're not back here in two hours, I'm going to call your cell. You got that? This whole thing is seriously giving me the creeps."

Grace gave her father a disbelieving look. 

"Like I'm feeling any better about this? Dad, I swear to you that I will be careful. Just remember that I'm going out now so we can all have peace of mind, and that what I'm about to do is for our own protection, Rafe's and mine." 

She kissed Hiroshi gently on the cheek before stepping out the door. In the hallway, she turned around to look at him.

"Look after my baby while I'm gone, and when I get back the three of us will celebrate the beginning of a new chapter of our lives. I'll see you in a bit."

Grace left the building, her heels clicking on the pavement as she walked towards the open street. Her almond-shaped eyes darted around the area as she walked, trying to guess if someone was following her. She saw no one, but she didn't let herself relax. The wind blew at the loose tendrils of hair that framed her face as she hailed a cab, her gaze momentarily resting on a homeless man wandering at the edge of Central Park. She stared at him, asking herself why he seemed so familiar.

The taxi arrived and she climbed in, welcoming the warmth after standing around in the cold wind. She told the driver where she wanted to go, and something in the rear-view mirror caught her eye and caused her heart to lodge in her throat.

She saw the flash of red hair first, but then the rest of him emerged from the other taxi on the street as if in slow motion. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she saw his hair, face and then his body come out of the vehicle. The years had been very kind to him; he had the same powerful build, the same brilliant eyes. He had the same exquisite mouth, and she ached to kiss him. 

To both her relief and dismay, her taxi driver began to pull away from the curb as her eyes remained locked on Gabriel's reflection. He was looking at the building, not at the departing taxi; he hadn't seen her. She couldn't understand why she felt so disappointed.

She shook her head at the feeling, forcing her mind on other questions.

What is he doing here? How did he find the address? What does he want?

She pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose as the obvious answer came to her. He came for her, but she didn't know how she felt about it. Just a day before, she'd asked for a sign that Gabriel cared for her, and she had gotten it in spades. 

The question is, what the hell am I going to do about it?

Her sigh of frustration echoed in the cab, and the driver looked back curiously. 

"You all right, lady?"

Grace bit her lip to stop herself from laughing like a madwoman. 

"I'm well enough, thanks. How about you?"

The driver gave a uniquely macho shrug as a response. "Eh, I can't complain."

Grace didn't know what else to say, so she looked out of the window and watched the city go by. Moments later, the silence of the cab was broken by the ringing of a cellular phone. She opened her purse and retrieved the tiny gadget before pressing the button to receive the call.

"Hello?"

The sound of frantic male breathing came from the other end of the line.

"What did you say to him, love? Please, tell me what you told him."

Grace's nails dug into the leather seat as she heard the desolation in Liam's voice, and her mind was filled with terrible scenarios in which something happened to David. 

"Liam, what's wrong? What's happened?"

He took a shaky breath, his voice trembling as he spoke. 

"I got a call about twenty minutes ago from London. David was due at a very important meeting today and he never showed up. Someone from AE London went over to the Savoy to find out what happened, but David wasn't in his suite. Inside the room, everything was in perfect order; his clothes and personal effects were all there. It looked as though he had just stepped out for a moment, perhaps a short walk around the Garden or the Thames..."

Liam's voice cracked and he trailed off, leaving Grace to sort through what he was telling her. Her mouth felt as if it was stuffed with cotton, her throat as dry as a desert. Terrified, she wet her lips and tried to compose herself enough to speak.

"Go on, Liam. What else happened?"

His tone shifted from sorrowful to angry, and Grace bit her lip as he lashed out.

"You tell me, Grace! Someone on the night staff mentioned an extremely late call to David, and minutes later he was out the door! That was the last time anyone saw him, do you understand me? So I'm a bit curious about what could provoke someone to just get up and leave without a word, without a trace! Christ, he didn't even take his wallet with him! What if someone attacked him in the street, some junkie looking for a quick fix? What if he's in a dark corner somewhere, lying hurt on the ground and unable to call for help?"

Grace felt the tears roll down her face, and she couldn't speak for several minutes. Liam must have heard her soft crying on the other end, because his voice slowly regained its usual tenderness. 

"I'm so sorry, darling. It was unforgivably thoughtless of me to shout at you like that, as if you were to blame. What did you say to him when you called?"

She took out an embroidered handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at her face. 

"I told him that I wanted a divorce, and he begged me to reconsider. I basically explained to him that I cannot continue with this marriage, especially now that I feel more estranged from him than ever. I don't know him anymore, and every day it becomes clearer to me that I never really knew him in the first place. I told him that I suspected him concerning what happened to Cooper, and he swore that he had nothing to do with it. I said to him that we felt threatened by him and I let him know my plans for Rafe and I to move out of the penthouse. I said to him that I hope we can find a way to sort things through so we could spare each other more pain upon parting. And then it was over; he grew cold and he hung up." 

Liam shut his eyes, almost crushing his phone in his large hand.

My God, no wonder he went off in the night. He was just cast off by the woman he loves while he's at his most vulnerable. He'd never before been so ensnared by Cupid's arrow. No woman had cast such a spell over his heart, not even Caitlin. 

He sighed heavily into the phone. 

"I see. This looks very bad, Grace. While I understand that you needed to express your feelings to David, I wish that you could have executed better timing. He's been under a lot of stress lately, with Cooper's death and with the business in general. The discussion of the state of your marriage, I believe, could have waited until he returned. And now he has disappeared. I'm on my way to the airport now; the jet is ready to take me to London to see if I can help with the situation."

Grace's breath was ragged as she replied. "Liam, please keep me posted about what's going on. Just because I want to end things with David doesn't mean that I don't care. I owe everything to him, and I want him to be found safe and well."

Along with Liam's words, Grace heard the sound of a jet engine in the distance. 

"I will tell you everything, I promise you. I have arrived at the airport, and the jet is waiting. We'll talk later. Take care and be safe. You're in good hands."

The call was terminated, and Grace looked at the phone with a slight frown. The jet engine had drowned out Liam's last words, and she wondered what he had said. 

"Hey, lady?"

She glanced at the rear-view mirror and met the taxi driver's gaze. "Yes?"

"Are you going to be okay?"

She took a deep breath, her eyes remaining on his. 

"You know, even though I'm not sure right now... yes. I'm going to be fine."

* * *

Gabriel knocked on the door and waited, adrenaline pumping in his veins.

Please Lord, let her be here so we can finally talk and put an end to this agony.

A middle-aged Japanese man answered the door, and Gabriel saw a flicker of recognition in the older man's eyes before they narrowed at him in suspicion.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Nakimura? We've never met, but my name is Gabriel Knight. I'm a friend of your daughter's from way back."

Hiroshi crossed his arms in front of his chest as he looked Gabriel up and down. 

"Are you now? I wonder. You're the one who sent the package yesterday?"

Gabriel looked straight into Hiroshi's eyes, returning his gaze without flinching. 

"Yes, I sent it. The book was an old favorite of hers from the castle, and I thought that she would enjoy it. Sir, is Grace available? We need to talk."

Hiroshi was impressed by the younger man, but he deliberately didn't show any reaction whatsoever to Gabriel's words even though he could tell that he was sincere. 

The older man sighed and shook his head. "I'm afraid that Grace isn't in right now. She left just a few minutes ago to run some errands."

Gabriel bit the inside of his cheek to keep from cursing, and Hiroshi noted his disappointment. 

"Did she say where she was going, by any chance?"

Hiroshi heard the soft patter of footsteps behind him, and he blocked the door's opening with his body. 

"No. She didn't tell me anything, and even if she did I'm not sure I should broadcast her location to those who just walk up from the street. It's possible that she may not want to see you, Knight."

Gabriel took a deep breath. "I am aware of that more than you know, Mr. Nakimura."

He took out his notebook and wrote down his new address and phone number. 

"Please give this to her and tell her that I know that something's going on and that I'm available and want to help. She can call me at that number day or night, I don't care. All that matters is that she contacts me."

He gave the note to the older man. "It was nice meeting you. I wish that it could have been under more pleasant circumstances."

Gabriel left, not knowing that he was being watched by not one, but two pairs of eyes. Hiroshi watched him board the elevator; when he saw the double doors close, he shut the apartment door and saw his grandson standing in the middle of the living room. 

Rafe's eyes were wide with excitement. "Who was that man, Grandpa?" 

Hiroshi turned the deadbolt and looked at the boy. 

"He says that he's a friend of your mother's."

The little boy thought for a moment. "Why didn't you invite him in? It would have been nice to have another player for Scrabble." 

Hiroshi smiled slightly at Rafe's innocence. 

"Because, my boy, I don't think that your mother would have appreciated having a stranger in the house so close to you while she's away."

Rafe frowned. "But you just said that he's a friend of Mom's. If he's her friend, what do I have to fear from him?"

The older man sighed as he ran a hand through his gray hair. He picked Rafe up and took him to the coffee table, where their game was waiting.

"I don't have the answer for that, sport. When your mother returns, she'll have to decide what to do about him."

* * *

Outside, Gabriel decided to take a walk around the Park so he could get accustomed to the area. He enjoyed the bite of the early Spring wind against his face, the soft rustling of the trees as he followed the path to the Lake. 

He stared at the water for a long time, remembering it from his dreams.

Oh my God, this is it. I'd recognize it anywhere, frozen or not. I dreamt about this lake because it's only a short walk from where Grace is staying.

He walked closer to the Lake as if he were being pulled by an invisible string, a feeling of uneasiness stirring within him. He stopped at a point on the path which offered him a better view of both the water and the nearby Sheep Meadow, and suddenly everything around him blurred as he was taken over by his senses for the second time that day. 

* * *

It wasn't the same; unlike before, Gabriel couldn't visualize what he was picking up. He could only hear and feel, but it was more than enough to make the blood freeze in his veins as he was locked in the trance. 

He experienced an overwhelming sensation of cold, and he felt chilled to the bone. It was difficult for him to breathe, as if the oxygen was being forced from his lungs. The air around him felt fluid, yet weighted. His chest heaving, he tried to raise a hand to his throat but found that he couldn't move a muscle. He heard sounds of someone choking for air, desperate gasps echoing on the wind. He tried again to move and succeeded as he heard the heavy thud of an unconscious body hitting the ground. 

Vision finally came to him; his heart stopped when he saw an unmistakably feminine body on the ground, a silken tangle of black hair on the pavement. Gabriel felt as if he was watching himself from above as he kneeled on the ground, reaching out for the limp form. 

I have seen this hair before. I've touched it, kissed it.

She was face down on the concrete, out cold. With a trembling hand, he gently brushed away enough hair to see her face. Why did this happen to you?

An ear-piercing scream shattered the silence. "Please, somebody help us!"

Startled, Gabriel turned his head and saw a small boy. The child was facing away from him, waving his arms wildly in the air for help. His little body was shaking with sobs as he yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Please, will someone... Oh, God! Please!"

The sheer terror that the boy clearly displayed broke Gabriel's heart; he opened his mouth to speak, but he had no voice. He wanted to go to the child, hold him and tell him that everything would be all right, but he couldn't move. He was rooted to the spot. He hadn't felt so helpless since the night Grace left him.

"What happened here?" 

Gabriel looked up and saw a man running towards the child. The stranger was dressed in running gear, the hood of his sweatshirt covering his face. Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, silently thanking God that someone came to their aid.

The boy spoke as the jogger approached the scene. "Please, Mister! Something's happened to my mom and she fainted! We were on our way to my Grandpa's, just a couple of blocks away."

Gabriel's head, which had been lowered, shot up at the word "Mom." He looked at Grace's face, and then he caught his first full glimpse of the child and all of his thoughts vanished except for one. 

He's beautiful.

He continued to stare mutely as the stranger bent and picked up Grace. Automatically, his gaze was drawn to the ring finger of her left hand; it was bare. A riptide of conflicted emotions raged through him, anger and jealousy among them. 

So, she has a child. Who's the lucky guy? Whoever he is, he must be an idiot because who in their right mind would have a baby with Grace and not marry her? 

As the man began to walk with the child out of the park, the hood fell away from his face and Gabriel saw that it was Mosely. His stomach churned with feelings of betrayal and hurt, and he bit his lip to prevent himself from cursing out loud as he felt himself returning to the normal world.




Dark Impulse Ch. 15



* * *

"Are you okay, buddy?" 

Gabriel felt a strong arm helping him up, and he realized that he must have blacked out. He opened his eyes and allowed them to gradually focus on the man beside him.

"Yeah, I'll be alright. Thanks a lot."

Minutes passed as Gabriel recovered from his episode. After a while, he expected the homeless guy to understand that his help was no longer needed and just leave. However, he just stayed where he was, staring at Gabriel as if he was expecting a royal ass kicking. He gave a slightly embarrassed smile and Gabriel blinked hard, finally looking beyond the tattered rags to see his friend's face.

"Mose, what the hell are you doing here in New York?"

Mosely calmly cleared his throat; he had expected Gabriel's reaction.

"I'm here to check up on Grace and to see what I could make of the situation."

Gabriel rubbed his forehead, clearly annoyed by Mosely's interference.

"So what you mean to say is that you didn't trust me concerning Grace, you didn't believe me earlier when I said that I don't want to hurt her, and you decided to come over and play 'Good Cop / Bad Cop.' Am I right?" 

Mosely sighed and looked briefly at the sky before meeting Gabriel's eyes.

"It's not as cold-blooded as that, damn it! I just... I don't know, Bud. I wanted to see for myself how she is, and what she's done with herself all this time. That's all."

Gabriel watched his friend for a long moment, remembering how extremely angry Mosely had been at Rennes-Le-Chateâu when Gabriel told him that Grace was gone. For days afterwards, Mosely had shouted at him through Gabriel's barricaded hotel room door, calling him all forms of bastard and blaming him for Grace's abrupt departure. He believed that he deserved all of it, and at the time he had understood Mosely's pain. He looked as his friend again.

He was wildly in love with her from the beginning, and perhaps he still is. 

"I hope that's true, Mose. I know that over these past few years, Grace has been a very sensitive subject between us. Our emotions always run high whenever she's concerned, and we tear at each other like wild dogs. I hope that somehow we can bury the hatchet once and for all, and that you can find it in yourself to help me instead of compete with me. This isn't a race, Mose. It's not a question of you versus me. What really matters is that Grace and the child are safe."

Mosely froze, his eyes widening. "How did you know that there's a child?"

Gabriel stared at him. "I had another vision. That's why I was on the ground."

Mosely licked his lips, which had gone dry. "What did you see?"

"The seeing part wasn't until the very end; I felt very cold, both inside and out. I couldn't breathe and I felt like my lungs were going to burst. I heard gasping breaths and then a huge thud of someone falling down. Then I was able to see that it was Grace lying on the ground; I went to her and then I saw the boy calling for help. And then you came..."

Mosely ran his hands through his thinning hair and refused to meet Gabriel's eyes. Gabriel could tell that he was deeply upset over Grace's collapse, but he needed the information.

"Tell me what happened, Mose."

"Thank God that I was actually there to help, you know? Jesus, Knight! She was lying there like a rag doll, so helpless and vulnerable. She didn't have a clue about what was happening around her. The kid was innocent and so fucking scared... he was terrified from what happened to his mother, desperate to get someone to come and help. There were lots of other people in the park but they didn't even turn around to see what was going on! Nobody came before I showed up, not one person."

Mosely's eyes narrowed sharply at Gabriel, and he sneered at him.

"So you're upset about my coming to New York, you say? You know what? Screw you, Knight! If I hadn't been there to step in and help at that moment, who knows what could have happened! Instead of me, it could have been some purse snatcher that would have helped himself to Grace's jewelry and watch before running off..."

A malicious grin appeared on Mosely's face, and for a moment Gabriel didn't recognize the man before him. What Mosely said next confirmed his thought and made his blood boil with white-hot rage.

Mosely's voice lowered to a whisper. "Or maybe the oh-so kind stranger could have been an abductor, a lowly pedophile whose taste runs to young, innocent and pretty Asian boys with a hint of..."

Gabriel's fist slammed into Mosely's smirking face, drawing blood.

"MOSE! What the fuck is wrong with you, God damn it? What's gotten into you?"

Mosely spat blood onto the concrete before facing Gabriel again. His entire body trembled as he thought over the horrible thing that he'd just said, and he was immediately regretful. Gabriel watched him through narrowed eyes, noticing that his friend's brown orbs no longer held the savage gleam from before. 

"Christ! I'm so sorry, Bud. I... I don't know what happened..."

Gabriel angrily jammed his finger into Mosely's chest. 

"What you just said was not only extremely nasty, it was downright cruel, Mose! You don't even know that kid, yet you damn him just because Grace had him with someone that wasn't you! How dare you? You have no right! No right at all!"

Mosely met Gabriel's eyes directly, his voice hoarse.

"I'm sorry, I have no excuse for saying something so terrible. I just...God! Look, I have to return to Washington soon so I can get back to work in the morning. I dug up some info on Anami if you're still interested. Think of it as a peace offering because I was such an asshole. Please, Bud. I really feel bad about before. Forgive me?"

After a long moment, Gabriel cautiously nodded. Mosely visibly relaxed and was about to speak again when Gabriel held up a hand to stop him. 

"Mose, this is the last time that I'm going to tolerate this. If you say anything else that is even remotely offensive about Grace or that little boy, the game is over."

Mosely nodded. "Understood."

Gabriel looked him up and down. "I had a thought that we could find a place where we could grab a bite and talk, but maybe you should change first."

Mosely's mouth turned up at the corners in a smile as he shrugged off the too-large brown rain poncho that he wore - despite the fact that it wasn't raining - to reveal a polo shirt, jeans and sneakers underneath. He balled up the poncho and tossed it in a nearby trash can. "Okay, no problem. Let's go already. I'm starving."

The clouds parted to make way for the bright afternoon sun as they walked out of the park in search of a restaurant, and Gabriel slowly began to relax with Mosely again. "Starving, huh? I guess you really get into the character when you go undercover. James Bond - no wait - Jack Ryan's got nothing on you, Mose."

Mosely chuckled softly, slapping his friend affectionately on the back. 

"Oh, ha ha! Shut up, Knight."



Dark Impulse Ch. 16



The Saint Mark, 
115 East 9th Street at 3rd Avenue, 
East Village

Evelyn Green bit into the juicy red apple, the sound echoing off the tiles in the kitchen. She chewed thoughtfully as she stared at the words on the laptop screen, occasionally pausing to make additions to the text as needed. She reviewed a newly written passage. 

Near the border between the Irish counties of Cork and Kerry lie the legendary Paps of Anu. This area is highly sacred to those who believe in the Great Mother, and many modern-day Celtics and Pagans from around the world make pilgrimages there throughout the year. The mountains are believed to be formed from the breasts of the Morrigan, the goddess of War and Death. To her followers, it represents the bosom of the goddess and it is one of the most powerful places to worship the Great Queen. The foothills are surrounded with standing stones that bear ritualistic carvings, and the entire site is shrouded in mystery. 

The buzz of the intercom interrupted her thoughts, and she grumbled softly as she went to answer it. "Hello?"

"Eve, it's me. Grace. Can I come in? I really need to talk to you."

"Sure, hon. Come on up."

Grace appeared on Evelyn's doorstep a moment later, visibly upset. Watching her, Eve was surprised to see the woman that she'd always respected for her great self-control nearly crumble before her eyes. Grace's lips trembled as she tried in vain to hold back the tears, and she blindly stumbled into her friend's waiting arms.

"I'm so sorry to disturb you, Evie. I didn't have anywhere else to go."

Eve took Grace inside and shut the door behind them before leading her to the living room sofa. "It's okay, really. I'm here for you, you know that."

Grace grabbed a tissue to dry her eyes. "Have you read the paper today?"

Evelyn shook her head, deeply concerned. 

"No, I've been inside all day working on my dissertation. Why?"

Grace balled up the paper in her fist and looked into Evelyn's hazel eyes.

"David disappeared early this morning in London. There's no trace of him."

Evelyn gasped in shock, and Grace bit her lip hard. Eve quickly recovered and began to ask questions. "How did this happen? What's being done to find him? Oh, sweetie. How are you holding up? This must be sheer hell for you."

Grace leaned back on the couch, her eyes glued to the ceiling.

"I'm not holding up at all, that's the thing. I have so much on my plate right now, Eve. Not just what's happened to David, but everything feels wrong in general. I feel like I'm tearing apart at the seams. There's so much going on these days, I don't know how to explain. I..."

Evelyn took Grace's hand and squeezed it. 

"Everything that's on your mind, get it all out so it won't bother you anymore. Give it hell. I swear to you, I will never tell another living soul."

Suddenly the dam burst inside of Grace, releasing the hot tide of emotions that had threatened to drown her during the earlier cab ride. She trembled under its power as she spoke.

"I'm responsible for what happened to David. Before he disappeared, I called him at the hotel and told him that I wanted a divorce. He was devastated, Eve. Oh, God. I drove him out into the cold, dark night and now he's gone! If something happens to him out there, I'll never forgive myself!"

Eve drew closer and put an arm about Grace's shoulders. 

"Grace, no. You had no idea that he would leave like that. You didn't force him to do anything but acknowledge your wishes. It's not your fault, girl."

Grace lifted a shaking hand to swat away the tears. "Liam's on his way to London to help with the investigation. Maybe I should have gone with him; I can't stand the thought of some Scotland Yard cop asking, 'Where's the wife? Shouldn't she be here?' I feel like I'm neglecting my duty to David by staying behind."

Evelyn gave a wordless murmur of sympathy, patting her friend's shoulder.

"You had to stay and take care of Rafe. Anyone would understand that."

Grace turned sideways on the couch towards Eve, her face strained.

"No. It's more than just that, much more. There are so many things that you don't know, Eve. About the current situation, my marriage, and about me."

Evelyn noticed the tension that radiated from Grace as she spoke, and she attempted to lighten the load. 

"What can you possibly say to me that's so terrible, Grace? Because right now your body language is screaming for me to brace myself. Come on, I'm sure that whatever you're about to say is not that bad. Hey, as long as you didn't vote for Bush, we're fine!"

The statement brought a surprised laugh out of Grace; Eve saw some of the earlier stiffness leave her body and was relieved. "Are you feeling better now?"

Grace looked at her friend, her eyes gleaming in a way they hadn't a moment before. 

"Yes, thanks. I really needed that."

Eve smiled briefly before growing serious. "What's going on?"

Grace took a long look around the room. "Where's Leon?"

"He's with his father this weekend, at his house in Queens."

Grace didn't know how to tell her friend what she was thinking in delicate terms, so she just spilled it out. 

"I suspect David in the killing of that billionaire Cooper. Other than my father, you are the only person that I've shared this with. The murder happened late on Thursday the 22nd just a few blocks from AE headquarters. Last Friday morning, I was in the penthouse study and I saw a shirt of David's on the couch and it was drenched in blood. I bagged it and now it's stashed away until I can find someone to analyze it. The other day I confronted David, and he told me that he'd only fought with the old man and then found him dead moments later. He swears that he's innocent, but the circumstances are just too suspicious for me to trust him."

Evelyn covered her mouth with her hand. 

"Oh, Jesus. No wonder you want a divorce."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Grace managed a wry smile. "I should have wanted one a long time ago; it took this to finally spur me into action." 

Eve shook her head in stunned disbelief. 

"My goodness. It just goes to show that none of us can really know what goes on in another person's mind until they say or do something that shocks the hell out of us."

Grace leaned back on the sofa. "Amen. David has been on a downward spiral for some time now, ever since he decided to turn his precious company in a direction that I never expected. I told you before that AE did biomedical research, right? Several months ago, out of the clear blue sky, David announced that he made a deal with the government to provide them with information from AE's Nanotechnology division in exchange for funding. It was obviously an offer that they couldn't refuse, and now the business that was once dedicated to building a better future for mankind is soon to be a key factor in destroying it. 'National security,' my ass. But hey, the money's good, right?" Her voice oozed sarcasm at the last words.

Evelyn was silent, and Grace exhaled softly. "I think that was the day when I began to lose respect for him, and it was the beginning of the end for us. I realize now that it shouldn't have started in the first place."

Grace got up and went to the window, aware that Eve was watching her. She stared at the street below, her thoughts on India and how different things were back then, how different she had been compared to the here and now.

She heard Evelyn approach and together they stood and watched the sun emerge from the clouds. After a long moment, Eve spoke. 

"Grace, we've known each other for a long time and I can't thank you enough for the support that you gave me when I was going through my divorce. You were my rock during those tough times, and I know that now you need me to return the favor. I am behind you all the way."

"Thank you, Evie. I need so badly to talk. I'm tired of keeping everything inside."

Evelyn led Grace away from the window and back to the couch. Her eyes searched her friend's face as they sat.

"Something in your speech puzzles me, hon. Concerning David, I mean. Earlier you talked of duty and respect, but you never mentioned love. And just a minute ago you said that you should never have married him. What kind of a relationship did the two of you have?"

Grace's mouth formed an ironic smile. 

"You know, it's been over five years and I still have no idea."

Evelyn leaned forward. "Do you love him? If not now, have you ever?"

Grace's dark eyes met Eve's lighter ones. "No, never. Not in the way that a woman should love her husband. My feelings for him never went beyond friendship, and after a while even that faded away. There's nothing left between us now except for Rafe."

Eve was mystified. "How could you have married someone that you didn't love?"

Grace closed her eyes and could almost smell the spices in the air that circulated around Darjeeling and the temple, could almost taste the tea leaves on her tongue. 

Her voice shook slightly. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Evelyn gently took Grace's face in her hands, forcing her to open her eyes.

"What happened in India, Grace?" She didn't like the ideas that were coming to mind. "Did he force himself on you?"

Grace's voice was firm. "No! Nothing like that. It was just a very trying time for me, and he was there. He was there when I was at an all-time low, and I was grateful to him for his kindness..."

After a long pause, she continued. "It was when I was struck down by a fever that I learned I was pregnant, and David was there. He told me that he loved me, and at the time I was incredibly fond of him and I convinced myself that I would eventually grow to love him. So I accepted his proposal, and as soon as I recovered we went off to tie the knot."

Eve waited patiently for Grace to continue, and after taking a deep breath she pushed on. She placed a hand over her abdomen, where she felt a tight knot forming with each word she spoke.

"Before I met David, there was someone who meant a lot to me, someone who didn't feel the same way. God, I was crazy about him. I loved him, but he just..."

A sob escaped Grace's lips before she could stop it, and Eve felt her own eyes grow moist. Grace let the tears fall as she tried to free herself from the prison of the long-buried secrets in her heart.

"I thought that if I married David, I could recover. Forget. It didn't work, and I was a fool to think that it would. I was so naive when I came to the temple, a runaway from unrequited love. I was carrying his child, Eve!" 

Evelyn's mouth opened to speak, but no sound came out. Grace was crying so hard that she could no longer see her friend's face. Her soul was finally letting go of the burden that it had been carrying for over five years, and it was excruciating.

"I admit it, Eve! Finally! I am a liar and a coward! When I learned that I was pregnant with Rafe, I deliberately married a man that wasn't his father. I never breathed a word about it to anyone, not even to the person that needed to know the most. I knew it was wrong, but at the time I didn't give a damn. I was still hurt from the way that he treated me, so I had no desire to tell him about the baby. The only people who knew about my deception were me and David, and I was determined to take my secret to the grave. I still am, and it shouldn't matter that he's in town and trying to..."

Eve's head shot up in surprise. "What? Rafe's father is here?"

Grace sighed as she reached for another tissue. 

"Yes, and he's been trying to contact me because I was stupid enough to call him in a moment of weakness. It happened just after I found the shirt and I was scared out of my wits, and today I saw him for the first time in years."

"Did you talk to him?"

Grace shook her head. "No. I was in a taxi when I saw him entering my father's apartment building. Somehow he knew I was staying there."

She picked up her purse from the coffee table and pulled out a folded note, giving it to Evelyn. 

"Yesterday he sent me this along with a copy of my favorite book."

Eve slowly read the note, glancing at Grace before going over it a second time. 

"Wow. 'I'm here for you'? 'I want to tell you so many things that were left unsaid'? 'I long to hear your voice again'? Oh, and that quote from the book! It's all so beautiful."

Grace said nothing as she took back the note, and Eve watched her curiously.

"It sounds like he's in love with you."

Grace winced slightly at the words, but remained silent.

Evelyn studied her friend. "Why didn't you call him?"

Grace raised her head, and midnight eyes locked with golden brown. 

"I just couldn't do it. It's been so long, and God only knows why he's really pursuing me. I don't want to be hurt again. I don't have the strength to go through that again."

Eve raised an eyebrow. "Do you still love him?"

After a long moment, Grace whispered softly. "Does it matter?"

"Oh, I think it does." 

Grace didn't reply, and Eve smoothed back a wayward curl before speaking.

"It seems to me that he's genuine about wanting to help you, Grace. You should talk to him and find out what's going on there. You don't have to tell him about Rafe if you don't want to, but I strongly recommend that you do. As his biological father, he has a right to know."

Grace closed her eyes, partly resisting Evelyn's suggestion while remembering another pressing concern.

"There's something else that I haven't mentioned yet." 

Eve noted a new tension in Grace's slight frame and grew worried.

"What is it?"

Grace nervously placed her fingers against her mouth, then pulled them away.

"I've been feeling sick off and on for the past week, mostly in the mornings. Nausea, headaches and that sort of thing. I'm afraid that I may be pregnant again, and with everything that's going on it would be the worst timing in the world. I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow morning, but now that David's missing, I don't know if I can wait that long."

Evelyn brought a hand to her forehead, feeling overwhelmed yet supportive of her friend. 

"Now I know why I stopped watching daytime soap operas. Grace, what is it that you're trying to tell me?"

Grace pulled the small pregnancy test kit from her purse and held it tightly in her hands as she looked at Eve. "May I use your bathroom?"

* * *

The two friends found a nice, low-key restaurant a few blocks from the Park, and they had lunch together. For a short while, they were simply two average joes hanging out and catching up on old times; they laughed and talked like old pals instead of government agent and famous novelist, or Shadow Hunter and reluctant helper. They were just Gabriel and Mosely.

But then Mosely briefly stepped outside to buy a copy of the Sunday paper and reality returned as Gabriel saw the headline in large black print, clear as day:

BILLIONAIRE DEFENSE CONTRACTOR GOES MISSING IN LONDON

Gabriel grabbed the paper and scanned the article, stunned.

David Anami, the founder and CEO of Anami Enterprises has been reported missing in London earlier today after he failed to attend a major business meeting...

"Holy shit! Mose, check this out."

Mosely left his seat across the table from Gabriel and moved to sit beside him. Together they read the rest of the article.

It has been said that the 51-year old Anami left the Savoy hotel before dawn and vanished into the night. Scotland Yard is tight-lipped concerning what may have prompted the biotechnology mogul to leave in such a hurry and at such an hour, but an inside source says that Anami received a disturbing phone call shortly before leaving.

Neither Anami's business associates nor his family could be reached for comment.

Shocked, Gabriel looked up at Mosely. Mosely exhaled sharply before speaking.

"Well, I guess now's the time to discuss my findings on the guy. After the incident with Grace in the Park, I ran around like crazy to get as much info on Anami as I could find. I guess I hit the jackpot."

Gabriel refolded the paper and returned it to the table top. "I'm ready."

Mosely hesitated, and Gabriel frowned at him. 

"I want to know everything about him, Mose. Come on."

The concerned friend faded away and the CIA agent returned.

"Born May 1st, 1949. He was born in Osaka and was originally called Kanaye Anami until he and his parents immigrated to Ireland when he was a small boy and had it changed to David. His father, Taku, went off to work in a factory in England..."

Gabriel broke in. "I already know about that. Skip ahead a little."

"After his father died in a freak accident, David and his mother struggled to stay afloat. It didn't help that almost everyone in Crosshaven hated their guts simply because they were Japanese. Many families in the area had lost someone in WWII, and they didn't take it well when 'the enemy' moved next door."

Gabriel shook his head in disgust. "Those bastards."

Mosely sighed. "It gets worse, much worse. Not only did the local boys beat up David every day on the playground, but their fathers were also bothering his mother. After the loss of her husband, Aki Anami tried to earn money as a seamstress but no one wanted her 'Jap hands' sewing their clothes. So she tried to find work as a secretary, but all the so-called respectable businessmen in the area all wanted her to work overtime, if you get my meaning. At first she refused, but after a few months of having little food in the house she gave in."

He ran a hand over his closely-cropped hair before continuing.

"Soon after that, the rumors started and before long everyone openly labeled Mrs. Anami the town whore. David was nearly pounded into the ground from all the fights that he'd gotten into, trying to defend his mom's honor. Jesus Christ, what a place!"

Gabriel nodded grimly. "What else happened?"

"One night soon after David graduated from High School, he was working late in one of his jobs as a gravedigger when he was hit on the head from behind with a shovel. When he came to, he found the body of his mom in the hole that he had made. She had been brutally beaten, raped and sodomized by God knows how many men, and then she was choked to death."

Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut, holding up a hand to stop Mosely from saying more. 

"Oh, God. He was just a kid. To see his mom like that..."

Mosely continued after Gabriel trailed off. "He went berserk, grabbed a lead pipe and went to town on as many heads as he could find that may have been involved. When the police came to arrest him, he screamed for the whole town to hear, asking them why they didn't try to find his mother's rapists and killers. They didn't have an answer for him, but it didn't matter; David knew they were dirty cops who were either involved themselves or were just covering for those who did. He escaped custody and ran away, vowing revenge."

He cleared his throat. "I guess he got it; within weeks of his departure, folks started either dying or vanishing. One of the most prominent figures of the community with whom Mrs. Anami 'worked' after hours was out fishing one day when his foot got tangled in the line and was dragged under by a huge fish. Another guy, a local farmer, got run over by his own tractor. By the end of that year, about twenty men met their maker and another ten were just gone."

Gabriel stared out of the window, his stomach churning. 

"Christ, what a nightmare."

Mosely quickly moved on. "In the fall of 1967, Anami began his studies at the University of Oxford. He earned degrees in Business and Mathematics. He went to the University with a friend of his from Crosshaven, Liam Kilpatrick. Kilpatrick himself studied at the Medical School at Oxford, and went on to become one of the top students there. He is a licensed doctor, but he doesn't practice."




Dark Impulse Ch. 16



Gabriel briefly wondered why Liam went to all the trouble to become a doctor when he didn't practice, but then it occurred to him that he may be using his medical skills at AE. 

He rested his head on his arm. "Go on, Mose."

"In March 1971, while still at Oxford, Anami married a woman by the name of Caitlin Blackwell. She was eight months pregnant at the time. Unfortunately, a month later she and the kid died from severe labor complications. After that, there's nothing about him on file for several years."

Gabriel dropped his arm. "How could he just fall off the face of the earth?"

Mosely shrugged. "That's what happened; there was no record of him at all until he resurfaced in Tokyo in 1985 to open the very first AE. What he was doing during the fourteen years between his wife's death and then is anybody's guess."

"So what happened next?"

"After Tokyo, Anami opened branches of the business in London, Paris and Hong Kong. In 1990 he moved on to Rome, Berlin, and Amsterdam. Two years later he opened the New York branch as well as others in Athens and Dubai. Apparently, he's been very busy."

Gabriel looked at Mosely. "How much is he worth? Same amount as Cooper?"

Mosely whistled softly. "Hell, no! More like twenty Coopers."

Gabriel stared at him. "Are you telling me that Anami is worth $20 billion?"

Mose smiled like a naughty child caught with his hand in the candy dish.

"Well, unofficially. On the actual record, Anami is listed to have just $5 billion, but his assets have been estimated to be a more substantial amount than that. Twenty sounds about right."

Now it was Gabriel's turn to whistle. "Damn, that's a lot of money. Which leads me to ask about his private life. What do you know about his family? Does he have any relatives from the old country? Did he ever remarry? Any children?"

Gabriel saw a strange look appear in Mosely's eyes in response to his questions; he watched his friend carefully, and identified the emotion that he saw. 

It was sadness.

Mosely turned his head toward the window and faked a cough so he could shake off Gabriel's intense gaze.

"No living relatives in Japan or anywhere else; Anami was an only child. He did remarry on October 31st, 1995. One son, Raphael Yukio Anami, born April 6th, 1996 in Florence, Italy."

Gabriel couldn't help but chuckle at the date of Anami's wedding.

"You've got to be kidding me! A wedding on Halloween? What would that be like? Instead of a bouquet of flowers, the bride carries a jack-o'-lantern?"

Mosely was not amused, and after Gabriel's laughter faded he spoke again.

"Like I said, October 31st." He glanced at his watch; it was 2pm.

Avoiding Gabriel's eyes, Mosely stood up. He picked up the paper, giving it a brief glance before throwing it in the nearest trashcan. "Let's go."

Gabriel followed him outside, wondering what Mosely's problem was.

"You know what, Mose? I just thought of something. You told me that Anami remarried and had a kid, but you didn't tell me who the wife was. You easily gave me the name of his first wife, but who is his current wife?"

Mosely slowly turned around, and from his expression Gabriel knew that bad news was coming. He quickened his stride and caught up with Mose on the corner.

"I'm sorry, Bud. I really am."

Gabriel felt as if the ground was dissolving at his feet, leaving nothing to prevent him from falling into the dark abyss. "Say it, Mose."

Mosely put his hands on Gabriel's shoulders, looking into his eyes.

"In October 1995 in Tokyo, David Anami married Grace Nakimura."



Dark Impulse Ch. 17



Grace's Studio - One Hour Later

Grace let herself into the studio apartment, pausing briefly to pick up her shopping bags from where she'd placed them on the hallway floor before entering and closing the door securely behind her. After turning the deadbolts, she rested her head against the cool surface as if it could help erase the pain of the last couple of hours.

The pregnancy test was negative, and while she was greatly relieved by the results, she felt a strange combination of fear and emptiness inside her deepest core.

What's wrong with me?

Exhausted both physically and emotionally, she walked to the window. Her muscles aching, she looked down at Hell's Kitchen and Times Square in the distance, her thoughts on the earlier conversation with Evelyn and the question of whether or not she still had feelings for Gabriel.

Yes, I still love him. I always will. I'm not going to run away anymore. If I see Gabriel again, I won't turn him away. I'll at least listen to what he has to say.

Grace was startled out of her reverie by the chirping of her cellular phone. "Hello?"

Hiroshi's voice was firm in her ear. "I told you I would call."

She checked her watch and saw that it was 3pm. Exactly two hours had passed since she left her father's. She smiled into the phone. "So you did. How's everything?"

"The boy is fine, but there are two things that you should know."

Grace frowned slightly. "Tell me."

"A man named Gabriel Knight showed up at the apartment."

She exhaled forcefully at the mention of his name, and she shivered as she remembered seeing him earlier that afternoon. "Yes, I know."

"How?"

"I saw him coming out of a taxi as I was leaving."

Hiroshi paused for a moment. "Well, he wanted to speak with you and he seemed rather upset when I told him that you weren't here. He left his number and the address where he's staying in town."

Grace tensed as an idea came to her, and her hand tightened on the tiny cell. 

"He didn't see Rafe, did he?" 

On the other end of the line, Hiroshi frowned in confusion. 

"No, but Rafe saw him. He kept asking who he was, and why I didn't let him in."

Grace's fingers flew to her mouth to prevent the sound of anguish that she made from escaping. Turning away from the window, she squeezed her eyes closed as she tried to maintain a calm voice.

"Okay, Dad. W-what was the other thing you wanted to tell me?"

"I found a letter in the mailbox that's addressed to you."

She managed to regain control as she thought it over. Could it be from Gabriel?

"A letter? But today is Sunday. Did you open it?"

Hiroshi studied the letter, which only had "Grace" written on the front.

"No, I wanted to wait for you. It appears to be hand-delivered."

Grace was silent, her mind racing. "Dad, open it and see what it is."

He reached for the letter opener and tore open the envelope to find a note and business card. He read the note first. "Grace, who is this Mosely person?"

She sighed. Damn. Everybody's really coming out of the woodwork, aren't they?

"He's an old friend who now works for the CIA. What does the letter say?"

Hiroshi adjusted his glasses. "'Dear Grace: I can't imagine what you must be going through with everything that's been going on. I sympathize deeply with the pain and fear that you're undoubtedly experiencing, for yourself as well as your little boy. I know everything, Grace, but please don't be alarmed by this. I only want to help in any way that I possibly can, and I already have. It was me who found you in the Park and took you to your father's doorstep. You can trust me, I promise you.'"

Grace raised a hand to massage her throbbing temple. "Was that all?"

Her father continued reading. "'I feel that it's my duty to warn you that Gabriel will be in the city sometime today, and he intends to seek you out. In fact, I'm the one who gave him your address. I'm sorry, but once you see him you'll know that he's serious about helping you. When he first contacted me to help locate you, I was suspicious of his motives as well. But then he explained his reasons for wanting to get in touch with you, and I was convinced that I was doing the right thing.'"

She felt her heart pounding as she listened. We'll see, Mose. We'll see.

Hiroshi cleared his throat and read the last lines of Mosely's letter.

"'By the time you read this, I'll probably be on my way back to Washington. Enclosed is my card for you to contact me at the Agency, and it has my personal home and cell numbers written on the back. If there's anything you need, I'll try my damnedest to do it for you. Please, keep in touch. Love, Mosely.'"

Grace leaned against the windowsill, knocked flat by Mosely's words. She turned around again to face the window, looking at the deceptively clear blue sky. Her own personal storm raged within her. "Will you do me a favor?"

Her father's voice was full of warmth. "Of course, honey."

"Would you pack our overnight bag and bring Rafe here to the studio, please? I have a lot to do and I don't want to go back there to pick him up."

Her tone grew pensive. "Besides, with my new popularity among would-be stalker types, it would be best if I avoid the San Remo until all this is over."

"So you're going to move into the studio today, then?" 

He sounded disappointed, and Grace's voice softened.

"I'm afraid so, Dad. I'm sorry. I know that we were supposed to spend the entire weekend with you, but now it's just not possible. There are too many unexpected visitors popping up, too many people who know the address."

"You're right, and I understand. I'll bring him. What are you going to do now?"

Grace looked over her shoulder at the shopping bags on the floor. 

"I have some do-it-yourself work to prepare the place for Rafe, I'm going to make some phone calls, stuff like that. See you soon, and don't forget to bring that note."

"Grace?"

His voice was heavy with concern, and she took a deep breath. "Yes?"

"Are you going to call either of them?"

After a long moment, she replied. "I'll have to think about it."

"Don't think too long, okay? We could use the help."

She nodded, even though she knew that he couldn't see her. "Okay. Bye."

Grace disconnected the call and strode over to the bags. She grabbed them and headed for the living room area of the apartment. She turned on the CD player, and programmed it to shuffle between discs before sitting down on the sofa. She reached into the bags and placed her purchases on the small table one by one. The mellow sound of Billie Holiday filled the room as she opened the boxes.

They say into your early life romance came,

And in this heart of yours burned a flame,

A flame that flickered one day

And died away...

She unwrapped a brand-new telephone and looked over the instructions. According to the guy at the spy store, the phone was supposed to block all forms of wiretapping and unlawful voice recordings, and it also had a feature that she could use to change and distort her voice. 

Then, with disillusion deep in your eyes,

You learned that fools in love soon grow wise.

The years have changed you somehow;

I see you now...

She looked at the other items on the table. She'd bought an alarm shaped like a doorstop wedge, which emits an extremely loud, high-pitched noise when a burglar opens the door and activates the alarm. Next to it was a large flashlight that can temporarily blind an intruder when the intense beam shines into their eyes. Pepper spray for Grace to carry in her purse, and a device which was similar to a baby monitor but meant for outside use. The small transmitter is clipped onto the child's clothing and relays information to a beeper that the parent wears. If the child exceeds a certain distance from the parent, the pager beeps. If someone approaches the child, the intruder's voice can be heard by the parent via the pager. 

For a brief moment she stared down at the items, wondering if she was overdoing the personal protection thing. But then she remembered how Cooper's chalk outline had looked against what seemed to be a sea of blood on television the week before, and she decided that it was better to be paranoid than defenseless. She had a child to protect. It was not the time to gamble with either of their lives.

Smoking, drinking, never thinking of tomorrow,

Nonchalant

Diamonds shining, dancing and dining

With some man in a restaurant,

Is that all you really want?

Grace was distracted by the music, and her thoughts were on Gabriel again. She closed her eyes, remembering how he looked just a few hours before. She had wanted so much to call out to him, touch him. She wanted to run into his arms.

No, Sophisticated lady, I know

You miss the love you lost long ago,

And when nobody is nigh,

You cry.

She rose from the couch and set up the telephone, forcing herself to focus on the important phone calls that she had to make. When she was finished, she was at a loss over what to do next. 

As she sat down again, the music changed to a slow and soulful love ballad. She leaned back and closed her eyes, allowing the sounds and the memories they triggered to wash over her.

I am thinking of you

In my sleepless solitude tonight

If it's wrong to love you,

Then my heart just won't let me be right

'Cause I've drowned in you

And I won't pull though

Without you by my side...

Grace's hands fisted on the couch, her nails biting into her palms as she recalled the passion that she'd shared with Gabriel. She shuddered at the memory of his tender yet fierce lovemaking. That night in France, he had given her pleasure which was almost frightening in its intensity. Then, she thought that she would die from it.

I'd give my all to have

Just one more night with you

I'd risk my life to feel

Your body next to mine

'Cause I can't go on

Living in the memory of our song

I'd give my all for your love tonight...

She hadn't died that night. But the next day, when Gabriel's behavior broke her heart, she was sure that she would. Returning to the present, she opened her eyes and found herself clutching the supple leather of the sofa in her fists. She gently let go, wondering again at the possibility that Gabriel may have changed over the years.

Right then, she made the decision. She wanted to hear him out.

Determined, Grace leapt off of the couch and went back to the entryway where she'd left her purse. She opened it and retrieved the letter that Gabriel sent her, and returned to the living room and the waiting phone.

All right, Gabriel. Let's see what you're up to, and what you really want from me.

* * * 

Gabriel sat in a darkened bar near his apartment building, unable to cope with the shock he'd received just an hour before. Grace, married to Anami? Oh, God.

The ice cubes clinked in the glass as he lifted the drink to his lips. He winced at the bitter taste, remembering how painful it was when Mosely told him the truth. 

Well, I've definitely screwed things up with her. I hurt her badly and then, just a few months later, she married someone who may be a killer. And if he's not, then he must be on the edge anyway considering his past history. Jesus, I drove her into his arms! How could I have been so stupid back at RLC, to just let her go like that without a fight? What the hell am I going to do now that she's married, and has a kid with this guy?

Then he heard a voice inside his head that sounded oddly like Gerde.

You're going to do your job. We've discussed this, Gabriel. You are only there to see if Grace wants assistance, not to romance her or break up her family. If she resists your offer, that's the end of it. But if she accepts, then do what you do best. Investigate.

Gabriel raised his drink in salute to her sage advice and gulped it down. Sighing heavily, he held the chilled glass to his cheek. The bartender saw him and came over. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke to him. "Would you like another one?"

He nodded absently and she collected his glass, her gaze raking over him appreciatively. He ignored her, his mind still focused on Grace. 

Now that he was in the same city with her, he felt that he was only a hair's breadth away from making contact. He desperately wanted to make that connection with her; not even the news of her marriage took away from his need. He knew that he was treading on dangerous ground, but he didn't care. He had to see her, talk to her.

The bartender placed the refilled glass before him, and he muttered his thanks.

"I haven't seen you around here before. Are you new to the Big Apple?"

Gabriel reached for the drink, but he was careful to go slowly this time. 

"Yeah." He didn't feel like talking, so he limited himself to a one syllable answer and hoped that the girl would get the message. She didn't. 

"Mmm, that figures. I definitely would've remembered you."

He finished his drink and looked up at her as he reached for his wallet.

"How much do I owe you?" 

The girl looked a bit put out, raising an eyebrow at him. "Leaving so soon?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid I have to." He longed to go outside for some fresh air, away from the smoky darkness of the bar as well as the bartender's flirting. She was beautiful, and once upon a time Gabriel would have been glad to return her advances but now he was just annoyed by them. He wanted to be alone. 

He paid the bill and left her a generous tip before leaving. Outside, he took a deep breath and walked back to his apartment building. He rode the elevator up to his top-floor loft, his jaw clenched with self-directed anger.

Gabriel had parted ways with Mosely almost immediately after their chat on the street outside the diner; Mosely headed for the airport while he had made a beeline for home and the nearby bar. Instead of numbing the pain, the alcohol stoked the raging bonfire within. He'd felt betrayed when he realized - too late - the connection between Grace and Anami, yet he knew in his heart that she was the one that had been forsaken, not the other way around. 

Furious with himself as he strode down the corridor, he didn't hear the phone ring until he was outside his door. Cursing softly, he quickly entered the loft and sprinted to where he had carelessly left his cell phone on the coffee table. 

He pressed the button, breathing hard into the device. "Hello?"

Silence. Gabriel heard soft, feminine breaths. His entire body tingled with awareness, and he knew it was her. "Gracie? Please, say something."

Grace's lips parted to speak, and his groin tightened instantly at the sound.

Her voice was husky. "Meet me tomorrow morning at Columbia. My office, 9am."

Before he could reply, Gabriel heard the soft click on the other end of the line; she had hung up. He slowly placed the cell phone on the table, unsure of what he felt.

Gabriel's body felt hot and sticky, and he decided to take a shower to help clear his head. He turned on the radio and entered the bedroom to strip off his clothes. His gaze was drawn again to the large bed which dominated the room, and he couldn't repress a shudder of longing. 

Naked, he strode into the connecting bathroom and stepped into the shower. He adjusted the water temperature until it was as cold as he could stand, and he let the icy spray fall onto him as he thought of Grace again. He was going to see her tomorrow.

The music reached him as he began to wash. "Against All Odds" by Phil Collins was playing, and Gabriel thought that the lyrics fit his situation like a glove.

How can I just let you walk away, just let you leave without a trace?When I stand here taking every breath with you, oohYou're the only one who really knew me at all

How can you just walk away from me,When all I can do is watch you leave?'Cause we've shared the laughter and the pain and even shared the tearsYou're the only one who really knew me at all

So take a look at me now, oh there's just an empty spaceAnd there's nothing left here to remind me,Just the memory of your faceOoh take a look at me now, well there's just an empty spaceAnd you coming back to me is against the odds and that's what I've got to face...

He washed his hair, not caring when the shampoo stung his eyes. The pain offered him a feeble excuse for the sudden tears that had formed in their emerald depths.

I wish I could just make you turn around,Turn around and see me cryThere's so much I need to say to you,So many reasons whyYou're the only one who really knew me at all

So take a look at me now...

Finished washing, Gabriel remained under the water as his heart warred with his mind over how he should proceed. Do I back off or go for the girl? 

He needed Grace as much as he needed air; he was so close to seeing her again after so many years, and he'd be damned if he was going to quit now.

He turned off the water, shivering from the combination of his emotions and the chill of the air on his bare form as the love ballad drew to a close.

Take a good look at me now, 'cause I'll still be standing hereAnd you coming back to me is against all odds It's the chance I've gotta take...

 * * * 

Headington Quarry Churchyard, Oxford, England 

April 2, 2001

David slowly regained consciousness, his entire body aching as a result of all the activity that had taken place in the last twenty-four hours. He felt the early morning rays of the sun bathing his nude body in warmth, but he could not bring himself to open his eyes. His head spun and his limbs felt as if they were made of gelatin; he doubted that he could support himself if he tried to stand. 

Cautiously, he opened his eyes and allowed them to adjust to his surroundings. A gentle breeze blew, and he detected the smell of freshly mowed grass. The sweetness of flowers in bloom. The richness of newly turned earth. 

I know this place, it's forever etched on my soul.

He was lying with his back against the cold ground, facing the sky. His vision focused on a weeping willow which stood over him, its branches dipping low enough to almost touch his skin. He recognized the tree, and his breath caught. 

He turned his head, and tears flooded his eyes as he saw the modest tombstone before him: Caitlin Blackwell Anami, February 14, 1950 - April 15, 1971. Beloved daughter, wife and mother. She is greatly missed.

Sobbing quietly, he shifted his gaze from his late wife's monument to a significantly smaller one beside it. Panting, David forced his exhausted form to move towards his child's grave. He crawled on hands and knees, raising a shaking hand to brush away some foliage which had obscured the engraved letters on stone.

Child of David and Caitlin Anami, April 15, 1971. There is a new angel in Heaven.

He threw his head back and screamed with fresh grief, his voice echoing off the surrounding stones. He buried his face in his hands, beyond caring that they were covered with dirt and grass. At that point, he was beyond everything.

"Oy! You there!" The groundskeeper rushed toward the spot where David lay, a flashlight in one hand and a loaded shotgun in the other. 

"You're tresspassing on sacred ground! What are you doing here? You... you have no clothes on! You're naked in the house of the Lord! Explain yourself, man!"

David looked up at the elderly man. "Please, help me."

For a moment, the old man seemed unsure. His eyes went from David's bare form to his shotgun and back, but then he held out his wrinkled hand for David to take.




Dark Impulse Ch. 17



"What happened to you?"

As he rose, David's gray eyes clouded over with fatigue, and he felt himself slipping away into darkness. "Help me. I... I will pay. My name is Anami. Please, get help."

He went limp in the older man's arms, leaving the stranger to decide his fate.



Dark Impulse Ch. 18



The Savoy

Dawn broke over London, the sunlight dancing along the surface of the Thames. Liam didn't care about the sight as he paced restlessly in David's abandoned suite, numb with fear over the well-being of his cherished friend. 

He shivered slightly as he walked around the sitting room, his thoughts elsewhere. The balcony doors were wide open despite the chill of the early morning. Upon entering the suite the night before, Liam had thrown them open in the hopes that David would return that way. He had waited all night, but nothing happened. 

Releasing a shaky breath, Liam forced himself to pause before the phone.

I should call Grace, let her know how things are. 

After checking the time and mentally calculating the time difference, he picked up the phone and was rewarded by Grace's sleepy voice a moment later. "Hello?"

Liam could hear a note of deep weariness in her tone that indicated more than just a lack of sleep, and he lowered his voice out of consideration for her.

"It's Liam, love. Sorry if I woke you."

Grace glanced at the electronic clock on her bedside table, and the red digits winked at her in the dim light. She grimaced slightly when she saw that it was 1am.

"No, you didn't wake me. I was just reviewing some notes for my lecture tomorrow morning." She scoffed at herself. "This morning, I should say. What's going on?"

Liam ran a hand through his blond locks as he watched the sunrise from where he sat on David's bed. The lovely view didn't help calm the persistent ache inside him.

"More of the same, I'm afraid. No one knows anything about what happened, and it makes me want to throw things against the wall. It's all so frustrating, Grace."

Sighing heavily, she held on to the receiver as she flipped onto her stomach. 

"I should be there with you. I feel so helpless and guilty about staying behind, I can't stand it." 

He gently clicked his tongue in disapproval. 

"Don't be like that, darling. You're doing what you believe is best for Raphael, and perhaps you are right to carry on as normal for his sake."

Silence, and then Grace replied in a low whisper. "I need something positive right now to keep me going. If you tell me that everything will be all right, I'll believe you."

Liam closed his eyes, hoping that the situation would truly improve.

"Grace, I promise you that everything will work out for the best. We will find David soon, bring him home and then we will all get on with our lives."

She licked her dry lips. Yes we will, but not together. Not anymore.

"Thank you for that, Liam. Please let me know when David is found."

He leaned forward on the bed, sensing that Grace intended to hang up. "Wait!"

Confused, she returned the phone to her ear. "Yes?"

"Is there anything else that's bothering you, love?"

You mean other than the fact that my husband - who is a murder suspect, by the way - is missing because of me, and that my son is having these dreams in which he's making contact with someone that he's never seen before in his life, and that this all-too real person is suddenly re-entering my life and turning it upside down? And may I add that I'm going to be seeing this long-lost individual in the morning, and also that with each passing day I feel as if I'm a year older? My whole world is falling apart.

Grace forced herself to speak in a neutral tone. "No, nothing. Why do you ask?"

Liam hesitated. "I just thought... never mind. I'll call you later. Get some sleep."

"Goodnight, Liam."

He slowly returned the phone to its cradle, his mind so preoccupied that it took him several moments to realize that someone was pounding frantically on the door. He quickly rose and strode to the door, finding one of the men from Scotland Yard on the other side. The young man looked breathless with excitement.

"Good morning, Mr. Kilpatrick. Have you slept at all after your flight?"

Liam wasn't in the mood for formalities. "Do you know something? Out with it!"

The constable swallowed audibly. "I have news. Mr. Anami has been found up at Oxford, and has been brought to John Radcliffe Hospital in Headington."

In the split second that it took Liam to realize what the policeman was saying, he could have sworn that he felt his heart stop briefly before resuming its natural rhythm. He blinked hard, trying to overcome the shock by firing questions at his visitor.

"Where was he found? How long ago? What is his condition? Is he seriously injured? Has he said anything about what happened to him? Is he all in one piece?"

The young man held up his hands. "Please calm down, sir. He was found in the churchyard at Headington Quarry not half an hour ago. The groundsman found him lying there naked amongst the tombstones, freezing cold to the touch and with a nasty gash on his head. Sir, I've come to fetch you. There is a helicopter waiting outside."

"Of course. I'll be right with you."

Liam raced to pick up his jacket from the bed and slipped it on. He looked at the phone, wondering whether he should inform Grace. 

No, I'll let her sleep. I can always call later. 

With that thought in mind, he followed the policeman out of the room.

A half hour later, they arrived at John Radcliffe Hospital. He asked the receptionist for David's location, and his worry increased with each step towards the Intensive Care Unit. He shuddered as he saw and heard the multitude of seriously injured patients screaming in agony, begging for drugs to take the pain away.

He entered the private hospital room and saw David, unconscious and covered in tubes. Behind the bed, Liam saw dozens of electronic panels that displayed his friend's vital signs. He covered his mouth at the sight. Breathing raggedly, he turned to the doctor who was standing nearby, reviewing David's medical chart. "How is he, Doctor?"

The doctor looked at Liam, his face grim. "He is extremely lucky that he was found and brought here so quickly, or else he would not have survived."

Liam made a mental note to give a handsome reward to that groundskeeper. 

"What is your diagnosis?"

The elderly doctor removed his wire-framed glasses, meeting the Irishman's gaze. 

"Mr. Anami has recently gone through a great deal of physical stress. His head wound and the numerous scrapes that we found on his body are thankfully minor; what concerns me is the severe hypothermia that he has experienced."

The doctor walked to the bed, regarding his sleeping patient. 

"The gentleman who found him said that Mr. Anami's skin was 'colder than ice,' and indeed, when he was brought here his temperature was a very serious 27 degrees Celcius, which is a full ten degrees lower than normal and unquestionably fatal if left untreated. Usually at such a low body temperature, the victim is in danger of cardiac arrest. Even if the person doesn't die from a spontaneous heart attack brought on by the cold, the tissues of the heart are at risk of being permanently damaged."

He adjusted the dial of David's heating blanket before returning to Liam's side.

"But this isn't the case for your friend, Mr. Kilpatrick. In all my years of practicing medicine, I have never seen anything like this. My prognosis is very good; not only will Mr. Anami recover fully from this ordeal, but he will not suffer any lingering after-effects. He is clearly as strong as any man half his age."

Liam visibly relaxed at the doctor's words, but he was wary of the Scotland Yard men who were waiting in the lobby to interview David upon waking.

"Doctor, would you please keep the police away from Mr. Anami until he is completely ready to deal with them? I fear that they may disturb his recovery by bombarding him with questions concerning what happened to him."

The doctor stroked his mustache as he considered Liam's words.

"Yes, quite right. I will prevent them from seeing him for as long as I can manage, but I admit that it will not be long before they must do their job. However, I cannot blame them for wanting to investigate. I'm sure that when Mr. Anami wakes, he'll have quite a story to tell. I would also like to know how all this came about."

Liam looked at David, who appeared small and helpless against the sterile white sheets of the hospital bed, surrounded by medical equipment. 

His voice was chilly as he replied. "Yes. Of course you would."

* * * 

Columbia University,

Schermerhorn Hall

It was 8:30 when Gabriel finally made it through the urban jungle of Manhattan to arrive at Columbia's Morningside campus. His appointment with Grace wasn't due for another half hour, but he decided to sit in on her early morning lecture so he could see her in action. 

He had gone without sleep the night before, his thoughts on their upcoming meeting. He was sure that he had covered every square inch of the loft with his pacing during the night, nervous beyond words. The time was almost at hand, but the butterflies in his stomach only fluttered harder with each passing second.

Another ten minutes passed before he found the right room, and he debated endlessly with himself over whether or not he should enter so close to the end of the session. He didn't want to embarrass himself by coming in late, with an entire roomful of strangers that would undoubtedly stare and whisper to each other about him. He also didn't want to upset Grace by disrupting her class. 

Licking his lips nervously, he made the decision. He didn't want to leave after coming this far. He wanted to open the door and see her, to sit close and watch her work. He wanted to devour her with his eyes. He wanted her to see him in the crowd, hanging on her every word.

Grace's melodic voice reached him through the door, and his heart raced.

"I'm going to set up the projector now. Would someone please lower the shades?"

Gabriel visibly perked up at the idea of slipping into the darkened room unnoticed. He listened through the door and heard the sounds of mechanical whirring. Seconds later, he looked down at where the bottom of the door met the floor and saw the bright rays of sunlight give way to darkness. It was time.

Slowly, he turned the doorknob and opened the door a crack to peek inside. He saw what had to be two hundred students or more in the arena-style auditorium, and the room was almost completely packed with bodies. Gabriel's eyes quickly scanned the crowd to see if there were any available seats, but it was extremely hard to tell because of the low level of visibility he had at his present position.

He glanced at the front of the room and saw Grace. She had her back turned to the audience while she was still setting up the projector and arranging her carefully prepared lecture notes. If he timed it right, he could slip in without her seeing him.

Gabriel took a deep breath. All right. If you're going to do this, it's got to be now.

He swiftly opened the door and stepped inside, looking again for an empty seat. His previous fears over the students' reaction to him were proven wrong; other than the few whispers of 'Who's that?' and 'Never seen him before' or 'He's cute," he was ignored by the masses. All their attention was riveted on their petite Asian professor, who also happened to be very pretty.

His eyes narrowed as he saw some macho jock types eyeballing Grace.

Come to think of it, for an Art class, there are an awful lot of guys in here! 

Gabriel found a seat in the very front row and sat back to watch Grace as she switched on the projector and selected a slide. He admired the way she moved on the podium, with serenity as well as strength. She was indeed aptly named.

As he finished the thought, he watched as she turned to face the audience with a mischievous smile. "Okay guys, I know that we don't have much time left so I'll be brief with this painting description. You should know, however, that this is one of my favorite works and it may be on the final exam next month so pay attention! Now, with that out of the way..."

He saw her perfectly manicured finger press a button on the side of the machine, and a second later an old Renaissance painting was visible on the large projector screen. Impressed with the detail involved, he looked to Grace for more information. She had stepped away from the screen so the crowd could take a good look; after a few minutes, she returned to her position at the podium. 

"This is Botticelli's 'Venus and Mars,' which was painted in Florence in 1483 and currently resides in the National Gallery in London. For those who need a shot in the arm concerning Greco-Roman mythology, the two lovers are also known as Aphrodite and Ares and theirs is one of the most widely known love affairs in all art and literature."

Gabriel leaned forward in his seat, intrigued by Grace's words. She continued. 

"Venus was indeed the Goddess of Love, and she fell hard for the God of War. She loved Mars madly despite the constant threat of discovery by her deeply flawed husband Vulcan, otherwise known as Hephaestus, whose jealousy burned hotter than the volcano he called home. This divine love provided the seeds from which children sprang, and..."

Grace trailed off when she saw Gabriel sitting in the front row, watching her intently. His eyes sparkled as they met hers, and a corner of his mouth turned upward in a disarming smile. It was the exact same smile that she saw every day on her son's face, and she felt herself tremble where she stood. 

She forced herself to recover before her students noticed her loss of control.

"You know what? Let's skip the mythology and move on to the actual painting before our time runs out."

She was relieved when she turned her back to the audience and Gabriel. She welcomed the feeling of security that came from discussing art, an area where she didn't have to deal with her naked emotions.

"As you can see, the scene depicted here is one of sated joy following lovemaking. Mars is sleeping peacefully after experiencing the 'little death,' while Venus remains awake and watches him in slumber. I'm sure the ladies can relate."

Female laughter erupted in the room briefly before it quickly died down.

"The overall themes of this painting are love and victory, but victory over what, exactly? There have been many debates over this, and the theories are these: Woman conquers Man, Love conquers War, and Love conquers All."

Grace was facing the audience again when she saw a hand being raised. "Yes?"

A perky blonde in the front row lowered her hand before speaking.

"Which of these theories do you believe, Dr. Nakimura?"

The student was sitting a few chairs away from Gabriel, and unwillingly Grace's eyes were drawn to his. He regarded her, and for a moment she thought she saw love in his eyes.

Nonsense.

She tore her eyes from his, faking a smile as she addressed the blonde. 

"I support all three, actually. Let me show you all what I mean..."

Gabriel fought an urge to leap forward and take Grace in his arms. He remained seated, watching helplessly as she finished her lecture. The look in her eyes had broken his heart; he sensed so much pain in the midnight depths, heard a cry for help. He didn't think she realized how exposed she had been to him in those brief seconds.

His hands curled into fists at his sides as he tried to calm himself, to prevent himself from shouting in sheer frustration. Come to me, Grace. Please. Trust me.

She didn't hear his silent plea. Instead, she concentrated on her presentation, glancing at everything but him. He watched her in a haze of torment and longing, unable to breathe from the intensity. 

Gabriel looked at his watch and saw that it was 9am. The lecture was mercifully over. Around him he heard the sounds of books being thrust into waiting backpacks and briefcases, the jingle of keys and loose change. He heard Grace above the noise.

"Thank you for giving me this hour of your time, and study hard for that final!"

He rose from his seat as the students began to leave the room en masse, his vision temporarily thrown off by the raising of the shades. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the morning sunlight as he heard the footsteps of the departing people fade away, leaving the two of them behind. They were finally alone together.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, he heard her sure steps echoing in the room as she left the podium and approached him. He lowered his hand and found himself looking down at her, staring into her eyes. She met his gaze directly, without fear.

His breath caught as he recognized the look in her eyes, the mirror image of the one she gave him in his very first dream over a week before. Her eyes glistened like black jewels against her creamy skin, and her gaze was sensual yet it carried a warning. 

Gabriel tried in vain to decipher what lay hidden beneath the surface.

What are you trying to tell me? Are you afraid of what your husband might do if he knew what we were to each other, or is it something else? Perhaps you're afraid of opening yourself up to me, because you think I'll hurt you again? Talk to me!

"Gracie, I..."

Her hand flew to cover his mouth, silencing him. "Not here."

She backed away from him, turning to collect her briefcase and purse. He watched her mutely, his lips tingling where she touched him. She paused by the door, looking at him over her shoulder to indicate that he should follow. He did so, feeling the butterflies in his stomach swirl around until he thought they might escape their prison.

Grace walked briskly down the hall and climbed the stairs, occasionally looking back to see if Gabriel was following her. He was, and she felt her knees turn to jelly each time she saw him walking behind her with his confident, purposeful stride. 

She took a deep breath as they approached the ninth floor of the building, where her office was located. Relax. Breathe. All I have to do is hear what he has to say, and if I don't like it I can just send him on his merry way. If he's exactly the same as he was five years ago, well, the door will certainly hit him in his cute little ass on his way out!

She saw her office in the distance and sped up as another thought came to her. 

What if he's changed for real? What if he's genuine and as wonderful as the words in his letter? It's painfully obvious that he came to New York for me, but what does he want? He has to know by now that I'm married and have a child. What is his agenda? He says he wants to help me, but... can I trust him? Do I dare trust him?

Grace reached her office door and felt a strange feeling deep in her gut, a sensation of dread that had nothing to do with the man who followed her but had everything to do with the campus police that she saw on the other side of the frosted glass pane.

She breathed heavily against the glass. My God, what happened here?

Gabriel paused when he saw Grace's reaction outside her office, and almost immediately he guessed the cause. Through the glass he saw the figures of several men in dark blue uniforms, and even before she turned and raised a shaking hand to stall him, he knew that she wanted him to wait in the hall while she found out what was going on. He watched as she stepped inside the office, and as soon as she was out of sight he slowly crept to the door, hoping to overhear something important.

Grace entered the tiny waiting area and found Evelyn surrounded by police officers. She looked at her friend's face, which looked severely drawn from worry.

She spoke up. "Excuse me, officers. I'm Dr. Nakimura. What happened?"

The leader of the pack stepped forward, his watchful eyes focused on her. 

"Good morning, Doctor. I'm afraid that there's been a break-in and ransacking here in your office. Your secretary called us about 15 minutes ago."




Dark Impulse Ch. 18



She could literally feel the blood drain from her face as she processed the information. Her hands began to shake, and she gripped them tightly together to make them stop. 

"When did this happen? Today?"

"We're not sure about that yet, Ma'am. We're going to interview the janitors and guards on duty to establish a time frame, but we suspect that it may have occurred over the weekend. Ms. Green told us that she found the office in this condition when she arrived, and it appears to us that your books and papers have been lying around for longer than just a few hours."

Grace exhaled sharply at the policeman's words, aware that his cop's eyes were analyzing her reactions to see if she was somehow involved. She didn't give a damn; she let him watch her as she went to survey the damage. She stared in shock as she saw the destruction and overall lack of respect that permeated the area that was once her personal sanctuary from the madness of the city, the little corner of Academia that was all her own. Now it had been violated, and she knew who was behind it. 

David, how could you?

She felt tears in her eyes, causing the terrible scene before her to shift and stretch. It was as if she was looking at the room through a giant kaleidoscope, or walking through a hall of mirrors; all was distorted and horrific. She cried silently as she observed the multitude of overturned desk drawers, books with their pages ripped out and scattered across the floor among lonely paper clips and shards of broken glass.

She stared forlornly at the carpet, searching for the pieces of her shattered dreams. 

"Dr. Nakimura?"

She was startled by the deep baritone voice of the policeman, and she could no longer hold in her grief. The sobs escaped her throat despite the hand that she had raised to her mouth, and she felt a wave of deep sadness and rage swell inside her, so powerful that it threatened to tear her apart. 

The cop looked uncomfortable with her emotional distress. He cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but maybe we should go to the station..."

Grace's head shot up. "No! I mean, please. I can't handle this right now. I promise that I'll come to the station and make a statement later today, but for now I need to leave. Please, I really need to be alone."

The police officer looked at her face for a long moment before he finally nodded.

She passed through the waiting area on her way out and ran into Evelyn. Her eyes were warm and concerned as she placed a hand on Grace's arm.

"Are you going to be okay, sweetie?"

Grace bit her lip as more tears threatened to fall. 

"God, I hope so. I'll call you later."

She left the office and looked around the corridor for Gabriel. He was gone, and while she was relieved that she didn't have to face him in her current state, she couldn't suppress the feeling of disappointment that swept through her. She felt anger, too.

Hmm. For someone who claims he'll support me in times of trouble, he sure left quickly enough. I was only in there a few minutes. Damn it! I need someone to talk to, someone to hold me and listen. I guess he didn't want the job after all.

If it was possible, Gabriel's absence made her feel even worse than the condition of her office. She shuddered at the memory and began to walk away. She headed for the stairs, too lost in her thoughts to realize that she wasn't alone. She opened her purse and pulled out a handkerchief as she reached the ground floor and left the building, not caring where she went as long as it was away from the university.

She was certain that David had sent some of his hired goons to trash her office over the weekend after he left for London, and she knew why. They had destroyed everything in search of the evidence that she'd collected that fateful day over a week before, but Grace had enough sense not to keep it in such an obvious place. 

Both the bloody shirt and the shot glass with David's fingerprints were hidden away in her safe-deposit box, along with enough money for her and Rafe to make a fresh start away from the city. 

I think it's time for me to call Mosely. There. The decision has been made. I'm finally going to take back control of my life, and I will no longer live in fear. David, you bastard. You made the wrong move, and now you've really lost me and Rafe. For good.

Grace felt a small sense of peace at the thought, and she looked up at the street sign to see that she'd walked five blocks up Amsterdam Avenue to reach the 125th Street Subway. She descended into the depths and navigated past the ticket windows and through the turnstiles, her body on autopilot. Her thoughts centered around Gabriel, and how much she had wanted his presence beside her, his strength. But he was gone.

She needed to find a peaceful, quiet place where she could think things through, and she knew exactly where to go. Of course. It's closed to the public on Mondays, but I have security clearance. No one will bother me there. Wonderful.

As she waited for the north-bound A train to arrive, Grace suddenly became aware of someone intruding on her personal space. Her eyes remained fixed on the vacant tracks below the platform as she waited a moment to see if the person would move away. No luck. 

Gritting her teeth, she turned to tell the intruder to back off when all the air whooshed out of her lungs. She saw that the stranger was none other than Gabriel, and she couldn't think of anything but the overwhelming relief that she felt upon seeing him.

He didn't leave me after all. He was there the entire time, just like I wanted.

Gabriel must have seen something revealing in her eyes, because he smiled at her. Before she realized what she was doing, she smiled back. The train arrived, interrupting the warm intimacy of the moment and forcibly reminding her of the last time she'd taken a train in connection with Gabriel. It was back at RLC, when she left him.

At the painful memory, her smile disappeared as if it had never been. He frowned in confusion at the change he sensed in her, but Grace was no longer looking at him.

Together, they boarded the crowded A train and squeezed their way around the cramped bodies until they found a deserted corner in which to stand. Grace held onto the metal pole and took a breath of the stale air, and when Gabriel came to stand with her, her nose was filled with the scent of sandalwood and man. 

It took all of her willpower not to grab the lapels of his leather jacket and pull him to her, all her strength not to unbutton his white oxford shirt and press her face to his broad chest and inhale his scent. For all she was worth, she fought the temptation to lean against him and allow him to take over. She wanted him so badly.

She tried to ignore him by looking out of the window, but there was nothing interesting to see. She looked at the other passengers, who were off in their own worlds. She glanced at the bar that she clung to and noticed that Gabriel's own hand was very close to hers on the same piece of metal. Only an inch separated them.

Fascinated, she stared at their hands. Hers was light and delicate while his was slightly darker and rough, hers was small and could easily be swallowed up by his much larger one. 

Grace looked up to see Gabriel watching her, his green eyes glistening under the florescent lights of the subway car. She knew that he was waiting for her to make the first move. She remembered her thought from earlier that morning. 

Do I dare trust him?

She took a deep breath. Slowly, she slid her hand down to lightly cover his. At the touch of her skin against his, she heard him release a sigh before his fingers opened and laced with hers. She looked up at him again and saw that his eyes were closed, his expression blissful. 

Her grip tightened as well as his, and she felt her eyes growing moist. She closed her eyes, unable to look at him again for fear that he'd see how much she still loved him. He looked away, afraid that he would scare her off with the words he wanted to say.

They stayed like that, silent yet connected, until they came to their stop.



Dark Impulse Ch. 19



John Radcliffe Hospital

David stirred in bed, opening his eyes to find himself in a sterile white room, surrounded by beeping machines and flashing lights. Ah, yes. The hospital. I suppose the old man changed his mind about shooting me, after all.

A shaft of pain pierced his heart as he remembered the sight of his loved ones' graves. It had been a very long time since he'd set foot in that churchyard. In fact, he hadn't been there at all since the funeral. Even though several years had passed, it was still too painful for him to bear. The thought of his wife and son in the cold ground, the immobile stones above serving not only as markers of who they were in life, but as a testament to the happiness that David once lived. It was a bright light which was suddenly extinguished by the hand of death, a life of joy that he could neither return to nor recreate, despite his best efforts.

Grace. 

Nearly six years before, when he had sought sanctuary in India to heal his wounds and come to terms with his troubled past, she rescued him from the aching loneliness that had consumed him. With one smile, she had knocked down the walls that surrounded his heart and conquered him, body and soul. He had thought of her every day, dreamt of her every night. He had to have her, and he couldn't rest until she was his.

At the time he knew she was waiting for a man who didn't deserve her, but he was determined to woo and win her. When her mystery lover never showed, David took the opportunity to take things beyond friendship. He had devoted himself completely to her happiness, and gave everything he had to drive away the haunted look in her eyes. He had succeeded enough for her to trust him, confide in him. It was enough for her to marry him.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes to block out the mid-afternoon sun that streamed in from the opened window blinds. Besides the fact that he loved her more than his own life, he had originally proposed to Grace because he thought the child she carried was his. She had quickly shattered his illusions. She said that she didn't want to unfairly burden him with another man's child, but at the time he honestly didn't care as long as he had her. He stood by his offer of marriage, embracing the possibility of having a family once again. He had wanted a child that would fill the gaping hole in his heart with unconditional love, and he had also hoped to conceive a child of his own with Grace someday. 

Sadly, it was not to be. Soon after Rafe turned three years old, David learned from his doctor that he could never father another child. As a result of his discovery, his tender feelings for his surrogate son began to fade away, replaced by anger and resentment towards the child as well as the stranger who had sired him. 

David knew that it was unfair and cruel to feel that way, but he couldn't cope with seeing such a brilliant child day after day and knowing that he was the product of another man, and that he himself would never have a son to replace the one he lost long ago.

Sterile. How ironic. This is my punishment for past sins; I have lost my ability to create life because I've willingly taken the lives of so many.

While David was unconscious, his dreams had been saturated with blood as he remembered and relived the experience of killing off his enemies. He saw each individual face in his mind's eye as he approached them one by one, reveled in the taste of their fear and agony as he ripped them apart. They were the ones who violated and killed his mother, and he had made them pay dearly for what they had done.

Looking back, he felt justified because he had done it for revenge. But it was only years later when he began to do it for enjoyment and personal gain, and that alone caused him to have nightmares every night.

Falling in love with Caitlin had temporarily silenced the rage inside him. When she and the baby died, there was nothing left to prevent him from sliding back into the abyss. After they were gone and buried, he left everything and wandered the globe in a haze of grief. Not even his best friend Liam had been able to reach him, couldn't bring him back to his senses. 

With nothing left to lose, David immersed himself in the criminal underworld, dealing with a wide variety of shady businessmen and taking incredible risks to earn large sums of cold, hard cash. He became an assassin with a reputation for being icy and merciless, and his victims were always left in a condition where the cause of death was impossible to be pinpointed. For his unusual expertise, he had been highly sought after by clients in need of a professional to do their dirty work. He never refused a job.

On his travels, he visited so many places that they all began to blur together; Tokyo, Dubai and Paris all looked the same under the harsh neon glare of the casinos, cheap hotels and bars that he had frequented to conduct his business transactions. The pay was wonderful, and he had gladly earned every penny.

In the fourteen years that he had worked as a hired killer, David had always taken great pains not to get emotionally involved. But one night, while on an assignment, he reached his personal boundaries and crossed them. 

He had been hired by a branch of the Yakuza, the Japanese mafia, to track down and eliminate a rogue member who had left the group to marry a young woman. Since it was against their code for members to marry or start a family, the others in the group wanted him dead as well as the woman in question to regain their honor.

It took three weeks before David managed to find the young man and his bride, locating them in a quiet suburb near Kyoto. He stalked the couple until the opportunity to strike presented itself. He had waited until they were asleep and silently entered their house, moving like a ghost. For reasons that were unknown to him, he had decided against attacking them in raven form as he did with many of the others, opting instead to use an antique katana sword, its blade honed to a razor's edge.

He stood over their bed, watching them sleep as he raised the sword high in the air. He plunged the blade into the young man's chest, his stomach churning as the youth's screams of pain reached him. The woman awoke and screamed as she saw the pristine white sheets covered in her husband's blood. David twisted the sword until the man finally died, and then he turned to the woman. 

She had bolted from the bed in a futile attempt to save herself; it was easy for him to catch up with her. He dragged her back into the bedroom by her hair, hating himself for his weakness and hesitation at harming an unarmed woman. She cursed him and tried to bite him, but he had quickly subdued her struggles. She begged for her life, but David struck her down as if he was swatting a pesky fly. After she had breathed her last, his real work of the night had begun.

I want proof that the job has been carried out properly, the leader of the Yakuza gang had told him, and David knew that he had to deliver on his promise.

Later that night, David had gone back to the nightclub and met with his employer. The proof that he had asked for was presented to him in a small metal box. The sadistic bastard had laughed upon opening the box, and David wanted to vomit at the sight of his own handiwork.

Inside the box was the young man's heart and the tiny fetus of his wife's unborn child, which was removed from her dead womb with a surgeon's precision.

Returning to the present, David cringed hard at the memory of his crime, his cruelty and his shame. He was so devastated by what he had done to that young couple that he had immediately retired from the role of hit man and swore never to kill another human being. He rose above the dregs of society and put his knowledge of business to work, using the money he had earned as an assassin to create Anami Enterprises and to make it one of the top companies in Japan and then the world. 

But he still couldn't sleep at night; no amount of money or success would wash away the river of blood that stained his hands, his mind and his dreams. After he married Grace, he had foolishly believed that it was the end of his service to the Morrigan and that he could live without the need to transform and hunt for souls, consuming them to gain power and longevity. 

His recent taste of the old way of life back in London had greatly energized him, but he was deeply afraid of losing control again, of giving in to the dark impulse that always called out to him. Now that his life with Grace was ending, he desperately wanted to hold fast to the decent existence that he had worked so hard to build for himself. Even though Rafe wasn't his biological child, he still wanted to be a good person for his sake and somehow make amends for his behavior towards him. 

David opened his eyes and sat up in bed. 

There is still hate in my heart, and that is a far cry from who I want to be. I have to let go of the past and move on, but how? At first I thought that I could ignore the call of the birds, and for a long time I managed to do so. But then all this business with Cooper happened and I panicked, hiring a so-called expert to help out. But what do I have to fear? I didn't kill that bastard, and there's no way in hell that law enforcement could tie that to me. 

He stared out of the window. I have proven to myself that I can resist the urge. I haven't killed anyone since that last job all those years ago, and I can easily continue that route. But must I give up my gift, which was so generously bestowed upon me by the Goddess in my time of need? It is so liberating to become one with nature and fly with the ravens. Until last night, I hadn't realized how much I had missed it. I can't give it up, not now. Perhaps not ever. Knight's services are no longer needed.

Satisfied with his decision, he laid back against the pillows and closed his eyes.

* * * 

In the hospital cafeteria, Liam sipped his tea thoughtfully as he read the newspaper. Word had already leaked about David's rescue, and he believed that the wisest thing for them to do was to hold a press conference that afternoon so David could face the reporters head-on and tell whatever story he had invented to explain what happened to him. It was unacceptable for anyone to know the truth.

"Kilpatrick!" 

Liam grimaced as he set down the teacup. He recognized that voice. 

Westbridge , that bloody bastard. He's come to cause trouble again. Of all the gall!

Colin Westbridge was a local businessman whose company had recently been bought out by AE, and in Liam's opinion he was one of the worst sons-of-bitches on the planet. Despite the fact that David kindly gave him a seat on the board, he was extremely bitter and would stop at nothing to see both David and Liam out of business or worse. 

Liam tried to smile pleasantly as he greeted his unwelcome visitor.

"Ah, Colin. How lovely to see you, as always. Won't you sit down?"

Westbridge was slightly younger than the Irishman; his shoulder-length black hair was pulled back from his coldly handsome face, and the diamond in his right earlobe winked in the light. He stood beside the small table, staring daggers at Liam. 

His voice dripped with malice. "I prefer to stand, you bleeding sod. What the hell is going on with Anami? He refused to show his face at yesterday's meeting, which I took great trouble to set up, and now he's supposedly fighting for his life. Vanished, my arse! I think this is some sort of trick created by you and him to deflect suspicion and gain sympathy." 

Liam stood to face Westbridge, towering over him by several inches. His stormy blue eyes bored into the intruder's as he fought to retain control over his anger. His voice was a low and fierce growl as he spoke. 

"I think that you're completely off your head, Colin. David is incredibly lucky to be alive, and I don't appreciate your attitude during this trying time. I want you to leave this hospital. Now, you sniveling idiot, before you upset him with your bullshit!"

A fearful look crept into Westbridge's eyes before he quickly recovered.

"You're in no position to give orders, Kilpatrick! I have the upper hand. I know everything that's been going on, you sanctimonious prick, and both you and your boss had better be careful how you treat me from now on. In fact, there will be some major changes on the horizon concerning my role in the company."

Liam could feel his blood boil in his veins. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Westbridge sneered. "I saw Anami beating the shit out of Cooper last week! I was walking to my car after the meeting that night, and I saw everything. So now the two of you are finally going to show me the respect that I deserve. By this time tomorrow I want ten million pounds in cash, and we'll see how things go from there."

Liam's hands curled into fists as he carefully weighed his options. If he gave in to his urge to rearrange Westbridge's face, he would create a scene and force a confrontation between himself and the many policemen who were visiting the hospital to investigate David. Colin would have loved that, so Liam convinced himself to change tactics.

He sighed heavily, shaping his features into a mask of defeat.

"All right, you win. I'll need to discuss this with David before we proceed. Also, it will take time to produce that kind of money at such short notice..."

The dark-haired man lifted a finger up to Liam's face, cutting him off.

"You have until tomorrow, like I said. Or else I'm calling the authorities."

Liam smiled widely, causing Westbridge to frown in confusion.

"Whatever you say, Colin. I really should check on David now. Take care."

He turned on his heel and left the room, feeling Westbridge's eyes on his back. Liam felt the corners of his mouth twitch as he strode down the corridor.

Don't worry, my greedy friend. You'll get exactly what's coming to you.

* * * 

The Strand,

500 West 43rd Street at 10th Avenue,

Hell's Kitchen

Hiroshi's powerful voice echoed in the living room of Grace's studio apartment as he read a passage from Wuthering Heights to a captive audience of two. Rafe and Leon, Evelyn's young son, sat quietly on the carpet as they hung on every word.  

"'My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind...'"

As Hiroshi continued reading, Rafe felt a strange restlessness build within him at the words. Several moments later, he couldn't stop himself from interrupting the reading. 

"How could she marry Linton when she obviously loved Heathcliff?"

Hiroshi looked up from the book. "It's complicated, son. Even though the two of them seemed to share the same heart and soul, Catherine knew that they couldn't have a life together. She was under a great deal of pressure from her brother, who was her only remaining family, to marry well and save Wuthering Heights from ruin. She had more than herself to consider, and she knew that marrying Linton would help the situation a lot more than if she were to choose penniless Heathcliff."

He thought for a moment before continuing. "Perhaps it could also be said that Catherine chose Linton for something besides money. Heathcliff was as untamed and passionate as the countryside that surrounded the castle, and with him she felt free from the restrictions that usually bound young ladies at the time. But once Linton fell in love with the spirited Catherine, everything changed. She was told over and over to change her ways, to forget Heathcliff and make the smart choice."

Hiroshi suddenly remembered his late wife's harsh criticism of Grace; nothing she did was ever good enough for Keiko, from her wardrobe to her studies. Even her taste in men was under fire. He remembered one Thanksgiving when Grace brought home a boyfriend from Yale and Keiko hurriedly pulled her daughter into the other room and shouted at her loud enough for everyone to hear, "What are you doing, bringing that gaijin to my table? I try to set you up with nice Japanese boys and you bring that home???"

At the memory, he briefly removed his glasses to rub his eyes. 

"Boys, sometimes if someone tells you something enough times, either good or bad, you begin to believe them. Everyone told Catherine that Heathcliff was below her, dirty and devilish, just because he was a gypsy and servant. They pounded her into the ground with their poisoned words, and they won. Her spirit was broken. She cut herself off from Heathcliff, the one she truly loved, and chose Linton."

The older man leaned forward. "I believe that she was trapped by circumstance, and as a result she sacrificed her own happiness and deluded herself into believing she would be happy with a man who was completely ill-suited for her. Catherine said of Heathcliff, 'He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.'"

Leon spoke up. "So there was no way she could get out of it?"

Hiroshi rubbed his chin. "If you think about it from a modern point of view, of course she could have done a number of things to avoid the marriage. She could have moved away, she could have gone off to marry Heathcliff, she could have told her brother to butt out and mind his own business..."

The boys giggled at the mention of the word "butt" and Hiroshi smiled as he waited for the laughter to fade. He leaned back on the couch as he continued.

"But unfortunately in those times, women were always ruled over by some man or other. Father, brother or husband, it didn't matter. They had no control over the most important issues of their lives, and no choice but to go along with the wishes of the men who controlled them." 

Rafe's dark eyes flashed with heat. "I'm glad those days are over."

Hiroshi nodded in agreement before raising the book again.

"Now, where were we?"

* * * 

The Cloisters,

Fort Tyron Park

They had exited the subway at 190th Street, and Gabriel watched as Grace walked several steps in front of him, leading the way. Not a word was spoken between them since their brief exchange in the university classroom, and he had enough curiosity to kill twenty cats.

Where is she taking me, and what the hell am I going to say when we get there?

He continued to watch her walk, admiring the way her hair shone in the light and the sway of her hips beneath her skirt. More than anything he wanted to reach out and touch her, but he knew that he had to be patient and take things slow. 

As he followed her, he allowed himself to relax for the first time that day and enjoy the beauty of the area. Everything was so quiet and peaceful compared to the noise and traffic that dominated the rest of Manhattan, and Gabriel took a deep breath as he looked at the gardens and the breathtaking view of the Hudson river.

He ran to catch up with Grace, and he noticed the museum's great tower for the first time. As they approached the impressive building, Gabriel felt as if he was being transported to another time and place. He remembered the castles that he saw in provincial France, and he finally recognized the unique medieval style. 

They arrived at the Cloisters and were immediately confronted by a guard.

"I'm sorry folks, but the museum is closed today... Dr. Nakimura!"

Grace gave the guard a radiant smile, and Gabriel felt a twinge of jealousy because the stranger couldn't possibly know how valuable her smiles truly were, and how cold and empty the world can be when one no longer receives them. 




Dark Impulse Ch. 19



Her voice was cheerful as she addressed the middle-aged black man.

"Good morning, James. How are the wife and kids?"

The older man returned Grace's smile with a wide one of his own.

"They're just fine, thank you. What brings you here today?"

Grace looked over her shoulder at Gabriel, her gaze cool.

"I've come to give Mr. Knight here a private tour. You see, he's only going to be in New York for a few days and I just have to show him the Unicorn Tapestries before he leaves. It is okay, isn't it?"

James nodded. "Sure. Take as much time as you like and enjoy yourselves. I'll be here if you need anything."

They entered the main hall; Gabriel looked around at the interior of the museum in awe as they walked past the exquisite Cuxa Cloister on their way to the Unicorn Tapestries gallery. A moment later, Gabriel found himself face to face with the most beautiful pieces of art he had ever seen, "The Hunt of the Unicorn" series.

Schloss Ritter has nothing like this.

His throat went dry at the giant masterpieces of silk and wool. "My God."

He followed Grace to the first tapestry, "The Start of the Hunt," and was amazed by the vivid colors and costumes worn by the hunters as they prepared themselves for the pursuit of the elusive unicorn. 

In the next scene, "The Unicorn is Found," the hunters catch up to the unicorn and it lowers its magical horn into the streaming water to remove the poisonous snake venom within. Gabriel went closer to admire the variety of plants and animals depicted in the scene, unaware that Grace watched him intently.

They moved on to the third tapestry, "The Unicorn Leaps Out of the Stream." Gabriel was taken aback by the cruel expressions on the hunters' faces and the multitude of raised spears aimed at the mythical animal as it tried to escape capture.

He looked at Grace, and she tilted her head at the scene.

"You have to remember that the Unicorn symbolized Christ, Gabriel."

The fourth scene was "The Unicorn Defends Himself," and indeed the creature tried valiantly to escape its tormentors. Its back legs were raised high in the air as it bucked and kicked at the approaching hunters, its horn buried in the side of one of the hunting dogs. 

"Ouch!"

Despite herself, Grace found herself smiling at Gabriel's outburst as she led him to the next tapestry, "The Unicorn is Captured by the Maiden."

Gabriel frowned at the incomplete image. "Why is this one in pieces?"

"Because of mishandling over the years and the overall passage of time. These works are almost 500 years old. Fragments of such an old piece are bound to get lost."

He turned back to the scene, which showed a young woman standing near the unicorn inside an enclosed garden. He turned back to Grace for an explanation.

She cleared her throat. "Since the hunters were unsuccessful in their attempts to catch the unicorn, they tried to catch it in the traditional way. According to the legend, a unicorn can only be captured by a virginal maiden. If you look carefully at the creature's neck, you can see a woman's hand stroking it as well as some of her sleeve. The hand belongs to the actual maiden; the woman that you see standing next to the unicorn is more likely a servant of some kind."

Gabriel looked at it again. "Who's that dork in the tree? The one with the horn?"

Grace laughed out loud, the sound echoing in the large room.

"That's the Archangel Gabriel."

He flushed slightly with embarrassment as they moved on to the sixth scene, but it quickly vanished as he saw the unicorn finally defeated in "The Unicorn is Killed and Brought to the Castle." 

Grace watched the sadness in Gabriel's features as he observed the hunters' savage spearing of the animal and the carting away of the unicorn's corpse.

She lightly touched his sleeve, guiding him to the seventh and final tapestry.

"The Unicorn In Captivity" featured the unicorn alive once more, reborn. It was chained within a circular pen, but the creature didn't seem to mind. The entire scene was dominated by numerous flowers and lush plants, including a tree filled with ripe pomegranates. He could almost taste them on his tongue, smell the wild orchids.

Smiling, Grace turned to face him. "This is considered to be the most famous of the series, and it's the one I most wanted you to see. Isn't it beautiful?"

Gabriel nodded in agreement, but his eyes never left her face.

It's not half as lovely as you.

His voice was warm. "Thank you for sharing this with me."

She tore her gaze away from his face to look at the tapestry. It was safer territory. After a long moment, he cleared his throat.

"What did you mean when you told the guard that I'm only here for a few days?"

Grace turned to face Gabriel again, her eyes unreadable. 

"Because I figured you wouldn't stick around much longer than that after you've gotten whatever you came for."

He frowned at her defensive tone. "And that would be?"

She crossed her arms and glared at him. 

"You tell me, Knight. Why are you here? It can't possibly be for me."

Gabriel stepped closer. "What makes you so sure about that?"

She scoffed bitterly. "Over five years without so much as a phone call, and now this? You sending me the book, with an intimate love letter? You showing up at my Dad's place in search of me? At the university auditorium to watch my lecture? Please... please don't insult my intelligence by pretending that you're in love with me." 

He reached out and cradled her face in his large hands, pulling her to him. His breath was fresh and warm as it washed over her skin, and she was painfully aware that his mouth was very close to hers. His voice was hoarse with emotion.

"Gracie, you couldn't be more wrong."

His lips were just as she remembered, soft and indescribably sensual. She knew that they were just within her reach; all she had to do was raise her face to make contact. She felt herself lean forward, drawn by his powerful magnetism.

Gabriel saw the flicker of fire in her eyes, the upward movement of her head.

To hell with taking things slow.

He moved one of his hands from her face to stroke her hair as he lowered his head to kiss her. He'd barely touched her lips when her eyes widened and she pulled away from him. Her voice trembled as she tried to recover.

"No. Answer my question, Gabriel. What brings you here?"

He sighed loudly in frustration, briefly directing his gaze to the unicorn. At that moment, he felt like the bound creature, rendered helpless by the chains of desire. However, unlike the unicorn, he wasn't content with the situation. It killed him, not just because Grace seemed to dismiss and deny even the remote possibility that he truly loved her, but also because she was another man's wife. It was a knife that twisted in his gut.

Gabriel took a deep breath as his eyes returned to hers. "I came for you, but since you insist on ignoring that fact I'll have to focus on the other details."

She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Okay. Let's hear it."

His green eyes darkened. "I was hired on a case. By your husband."

Grace's mouth dropped open in shock and she stared mutely at him until she found the ability to speak again. She frowned. "What kind of case? Tell me everything."

He did, carefully omitting the part with Liam's business card message.

She stared at the floor, unsure of what to think of the situation. Gabriel looked at her, feeling guilty for causing her distress. But there was no other way for him to find out what was going on and hopefully crack the case. He needed her help.

"So now I'm stuck in New York with nothing to do on until Anami returns."

Her face turned pale. "Have you heard about what happened in London?"

His voice softened at her worried tone. "Yes, I'm sorry. I'm sure that he'll be fine."

Grace raised her head, her voice suddenly tough. "And you thought you could look me up in the meantime just for kicks, right? For entertainment while you wait?"

Gabriel stared at her as if she had sprouted horns and a tail.

"Hold on a second. You're the one who wanted to talk business, so we're talking about the case now. You had your chance on the other subject. It wasn't like that."

She looked away, and he remembered the research that he had done on the plane. "Do ravens have any significance for you or Anami?"

She was surprised by the question, having expected him to say more about why he was pursuing her. "Ravens? No, not at all... wait a second. David has a thing for ravens. He grew up in Ireland, and those birds are very powerful in Celtic lore. That's not really my area, though. I have a friend that's working on her doctorate in Archeology, specializing in the British Isles. You could meet with her if you're interested. I can set it up."

Gabriel smiled, and Grace felt her heart knock against her ribs.

"Sure, I'd like that. Thanks."

She nodded, uncomfortable with discussing her husband with her former lover. 

"David wears a gold ring with an emblem of a raven's head, and... um, he has a rather large tattoo on his back of a raven in flight. He got it when he was a teenager."

Gabriel flinched slightly at her words, not liking the idea of Grace knowing another man in such intimate detail. Deep down, his senses screamed in outrage at the thought of her seeing and experiencing any naked male body other than his own.

He forced himself to respond in a neutral tone. "I see. Has he displayed any unusual behavior?"

She told him about David's increased aggression and outbursts within the past several months, and his fierce reaction to the bloody shirt discussion and the episode in the elevator. Grace didn't mention that she was planning to divorce him. 

Gabriel doesn't need to know that part. What does it matter?

She cleared her throat in an attempt to keep her cool composure. "I'll call Mosely later today and have the items picked up. I can't keep them any longer."

He remembered the incident with the university police. "What happened at your office?"

Grace sighed at the memory. "It was ransacked, vandalized beyond recognition. I believe that David is behind it; I'm sure that he wanted to find and destroy any evidence that could tie him to the scene of the crime."

Gabriel swore under his breath. "That bastard."

She didn't reply. When she spoke again a moment later, her voice was pensive.

"Despite all that's happened recently, I wish him well and I hope that he'll be okay. I care for him very much. I don't want to see him hurt, Gabriel. Something tells me that he's been hurt deeply before, and I don't want to add to that in any way."

He watched her silently. You have no idea how damaged he is... 'Care'?

He could hear his own breathing as he spoke. "Do you love him?"

Grace's eyes flashed with hot anger as her tone grew cold.

"What I feel for my husband is none of your concern, but yes, I do love him. He's a good man and a wonderful provider for myself and our son. He was there for me when I needed someone in my corner, when nobody else gave a damn and for that I will always love him!"

As she threw the words at him, her soul whispered something else entirely.

There is more than one kind of love in this world. While I'll always be grateful to him for taking me out of the cold, David isn't the one I love. I'll never love another man as much as I love you, but I can't get past how you treated me. Why did you throw me away? Why have you now come to pour salt on the wound by talking of love?

Gabriel's own eyes glistened in response to Grace's passionate words, and his teeth clenched as he fought the urge to destroy her high opinion of David Anami. 

Instead, he chose to take the high road. "I need your help, Gracie. Please."

She fought back tears, exhausted from the raging battle between heart and mind. 

"What do you want from me, Gabriel?"

He stepped closer. "Has Anami talked to you about his past?"

She felt a shiver pass through her. "Only that he grew up in Ireland, and that his father passed away when he was very young. He was also married before, but she and the baby died in childbirth. Why?"

He ran a hand through his copper hair, trying to compose himself.

"Mosely dug up some information on him, and it's not pretty."

Grace took a deep breath to prepare herself. "I'm ready."

Gabriel told her everything, and she didn't know how to react to such a tragic tale of hate, revenge and loss. She felt sorry for David's pain over what happened to his mother, wife and child, but she was also fearful of the rage that such events could undoubtedly create in a person and what could happen if it suddenly exploded.

When he finished, she bit her lip so she wouldn't cry in front of him. "Thank you for informing me, but what does this have to do with helping you on the case?"

He looked down at her. "There's still the matter of the missing fourteen years. I need you to find out what he was doing during that time, see if it could shed some light on what's going on now."

She looked up at him, her face drawn. "I need to think about this for a while."

Gabriel nodded, keeping his hands at his sides instead of reaching out for her like he wanted. "I understand. Take your time and get back to me. Call me anytime."

Her face softened as she looked out of the window at the garden beyond. 

"I need to be alone now, if you don't mind. Can you find your way back?"

"Sure. Look, Gracie..."

"Yes?" 

Her eyes were suspiciously moist as she looked into his eyes, and whatever he was going to say died in his throat at what he saw in their midnight depths.

"I'm sorry about springing all this on you at once like this."

She nodded but didn't reply. With nothing else to say, Gabriel left her alone in the large gallery, not knowing that she let the tears fall as soon as he was out of sight.



Dark Impulse Ch. 20



51 Buckingham Gate,

Westminster, London

Colin Westbridge entered his apartment after the grueling 90-minute commute back to the city. The clock chimed 4pm as he tossed his money clip and keys onto the foyer table.

"Darling, I'm home!"

There was no answer, and he frowned as he wondered where his wife could have gone. He didn't have to wait long for an answer; he entered the living room and found a note on the coffee table, her handwriting neat and feminine.

Colin, I'm off to Harrods with Lily and the girls for shopping and tea. There's food in the oven if you're hungry, and if you're a good boy I just might pick up a silky bit of nothing to model for you when I get home. Love you, Kitty.

He crumpled the note in his large hands. "Bloody hell..."

We're barely scraping by enough as it is, and what does she do? She goes shopping!

Westbridge sighed as he retreated to his study and shut the door behind him, extremely nervous after his confrontation with Liam Kilpatrick. He closed the drapes and sat at his desk, his mind on what happened at the hospital. 

Maybe he was overreacting, but somehow he hadn't expected to get his way so easily. Liam was always so protective of his friend Anami, and he was furious at first when Colin threatened him with blackmail. But then an expression of deep calm had settled on the Irishman's handsome features and his smile disturbed Colin even more than his earlier rage.

His heart pounded as he remembered what he saw the night of Cooper's murder. Despite what he had boldly said to Liam, he hadn't told the whole truth. He didn't actually see Cooper's death, but he deliberately led Liam to believe he did so he could cash in on Anami's fear of exposure. He only witnessed the fight between David and the old man, and when the news report came out the next day he had automatically assumed that Anami had done Cooper in. The opportunity to revenge himself on David and Liam and get hush money had finally come, and he jumped at the chance.

Can I pull this off? This is a damned dangerous way to get money.

His hands shaking, he opened the desk drawer and pulled out a small glass vial, a mirror and a razor blade. He opened the vial and poured the powder onto the mirror, its snowy whiteness giving it the illusion of purity. He used the blade to divide the cocaine into even lines, thinking over his financial situation and why he needed to succeed in his plan. 

Between his love of coke and his wife's frequent shopping sprees, they had already run through a great portion of their savings. Since his company went bankrupt and he had to sell, his salary under Anami wasn't enough to keep Colin and Catherine afloat. He wanted to give every comfort to his beautiful wife and fulfill her every desire, and he had severely detested the fact that he couldn't give her that lifestyle on his own terms.

He rolled up a ₤100 note and bent over the cocaine-dusted mirror.

Until now. He punctuated his thought with a long, deep snort of the drug.

Over the amplified sound of his own breathing, he heard the ringing of the telephone. His vision swirled and shifted as he reached for it, knocking over a desk lamp with his arm. He picked up the receiver, hoping that he wouldn't sound stoned.

He cleared his throat. "Westbridge."

"Colin, this is Liam Kilpatrick. I have thought over what we talked about, and I've decided that the answer is no. You have absolutely no clue about what really happened that night with Cooper, and therefore you have nothing to use in your little scheme to extort money from David. You won't get anything, not one cent. You're also fired."

Still high from the cocaine, Westbridge laughed mockingly into the phone.

"Who the hell do you think you are, you mick bastard? Always pretending to be so high and mighty, but guess what? You're worse than anyone could ever guess. I know all about you, Kilpatrick. I've done my research about your origins and your ties to Anami and guess what I found. Bloody freaks, the pair of you! But you're worse!"

With a mixture of victory and chemical rush, Westbridge traced a design in the remaining white powder with his finger and then put it in his mouth. For a long moment there was no sound on the other end of the line, and then Liam spoke.

"That's a very nasty habit you have there, Colin."

He licked the powder off his even white teeth as he sneered into the phone.

"Fuck you, Kilpatrick! Oh, wait. You'd probably like that, you bloody faggot!"

Liam's voice remained cool and calm. "You are a sad excuse for a human being, Westbridge. Look at you! Your eyes are bloodshot, your nose is running and you're high!"

Westbridge froze as Liam's words finally sank in. "H-How...?"

It was Liam's turn to laugh, its husky timbre sending a chill up Colin's spine.

"I can see you, you rancid piece of filth! I originally called to give you a chance to just walk away with no hard feelings concerning what you tried to do to us, but after hearing the venom spew from your mouth I realize it's no longer possible."

Westbridge grew increasingly sober as his fear rose, and he became flustered. His eyes darted wildly about the room; the window drapes remained closed.

"Liam, what's no longer possible?"

He sensed the Irishman smiling on the other end of the line.

"Why, for you to remain alive of course."

Colin's senses swam as he gripped the side of his desk, his knuckles turning white. 

"Liam, I apologize. Please, mate. I didn't mean all that, really."

Liam's smile grew, his voice low. "It's a bit too late for that, I'm afraid. My dear Colin, do you know the story of the boy who cried wolf?"

Westbridge panted hard, convinced that he was speaking with a madman. 

"What?"

Liam spoke to him very slowly, as if he were addressing a dimwit.

"The boy... who... cried... wolf. He found it amusing to scare the townspeople with false wolf sightings, and after a bit the villagers grew tired of his lies and warned him that no one would come the next time. But then a real wolf came and no matter how loud the boy cried, no one came to his aid because no one believed him."

Westbridge didn't know how to reply. He chuckled nervously. "Yes, that's the one."

Liam's voice grew darker. "No one will come to help you, Colin."

Tears trailed down Westbridge's face as his eyes were unwillingly drawn to the razor blade in his open palm. He didn't know how it had gotten there.

"Liam, please. Whatever you're doing, please stop. I won't talk, I swear to you!"

The last words that Colin heard him say were, "I know you won't," and then the connection was gone and a hand reached out from the darkness to seal his fate.

* * * 

John Radcliffe Hospital - Fifteen Minutes Later

The press conference room was filled with activity as reporters, cameramen and sound technicians set up shop and eagerly waited for the big exclusive: David Anami speaks of his capture at the hands of political zealots and his daring escape. 

The door opened and several Scotland Yard men entered the room along with someone from AE London's public relations department, and then the man himself was wheeled in by a nurse, followed closely by Liam Kilpatrick. The crowd grew silent as the PR representative took his place at the podium.

"I respectfully ask you to refrain from asking questions during this press conference, as this is a very difficult time for Mr. Anami due to his terrible ordeal. All will be revealed by Mr. Anami himself, but he will not answer any questions. Thank you."

Camera flashes illuminated David in white light as he shakily rose from the wheelchair, aided by Liam's hand on his arm. He walked to the podium, his eyes sweeping the room and taking in the sight of the multitude of reporters, rolling cameras and poised microphones, all waiting to hear what he had to say. 

"I was having trouble sleeping that night, and I thought that going out for a breath of fresh air would do me good. It was about 5am when I left the Savoy. I never intended to stay out longer than a few minutes, but apparently someone thought otherwise."

He paused briefly to gauge the audience's response to his story; they were riveted.

David continued. "It was almost sunrise. I was looking out over the Thames when they grabbed me from behind. There were too many of them, and I was quickly overpowered. They wore ski masks over their faces, but I could see the coldness in their eyes as they looked at me like I was nothing. They tore off my clothes and dragged me to their vehicle, which was a large refrigerated delivery truck for raw meat."

He shuddered hard as if it had really happened, briefly meeting Liam's eyes.

"The smell was indescribably awful, and I was sick several times in the back of the truck as they drove around in circles. I asked them what they wanted and where they were taking me, and one of them slapped me hard and put a gun against my temple. The man who struck me, the leader, told me that there was nothing he'd like better than to pull the trigger, and he warned me not to give him an excuse to shoot me."

David heard someone gasp in the crowd. 

"I asked them, 'What have I done to offend you so much that you would do something as desperate as this, and what have I done to deserve it?' And they mentioned AE's new role as a defense contractor for the United States. They said that something major was coming, and that all the money in the world wouldn't protect the innocent from falling dead and broken on the battlefield and in the war-torn streets, caught in the crossfire for the so-called preservation of democracy."

A murmur swept through the crowd at his words, more camera flashes.

"They were insane. It was at that moment when I realized they were going to kill me. They weren't even interested in holding me for ransom! They said money wasn't their chief motivator. They wanted to send a message to the world by executing me, but I wasn't willing to just roll over and die for them. I wanted to live and see my wife and child again. I didn't beg for my life the way they expected me to, I just made the decision to escape from these deranged individuals at the first opportunity."

The camera zoomed in on David's face as he looked straight into the lens.

"The leader, who up until then had a gun to my head, put it away and took out a huge serrated knife from his holster. He held it up for me to see before he stood up and jammed the blade into the side of a pig that was dangling from one of the meat hooks. He twisted it until the animal's blood oozed onto his clenched fist, his eyes hollow as he watched the disgust on my face. 'You're next,' he said. 'Like hell,' I replied."

Light applause came from the crowd, and David nodded his appreciation. 

"The head of the group was angered by my defiant attitude, which I imagine was the opposite of what he'd expected from someone in my position. He hit me hard across the face, causing me to lose my balance and fall flat on the floor of the moving truck. I heard him snap his fingers, and the truck stopped soon afterward."

David braced himself on the podium as he leaned forward.

"They dragged me out of the truck and threw me onto the ground. It was still early in the morning, and there wasn't a soul in sight for miles. We were on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere. I had abandoned all hope that someone would come to my aid, so I acted as if I was resigned to my fate so they would let their guard down. What they didn't know was that behind my back, I was holding a tire iron which I'd grabbed as I left the truck."

His flint-gray eyes squeezed shut briefly before he continued the story.

"The leader raised his pistol and ordered me to run, and I knew this had something to do with the message their group wanted to convey. They wanted me to run like a coward so they could shoot me in the back. They wanted to make a powerful statement with my demise, make an example out of me. I refused, telling my would-be executioner that if I had to die, I'd prefer to die like a man instead of a lowly dog."

David smiled darkly, raising his hand to indicate the area between his eyes. 

"He rested the gun where my fingers are now. His cold eyes stared into mine, searching for fear. I didn't give him the satisfaction, didn't let him know how afraid I was for my life. He ordered me again to run, and I laughed in his face. Time seemed to slow down as I watched his finger tighten on the trigger, and I knew that I had to act or die. I ducked, whipping out the tire iron and hitting my captor squarely in the abdomen with it, over and over until he coughed up blood and dropped the gun. Another man ran towards me with a knife. I threw the iron at him hard and he was impaled in the chest by the sharp end."

He watched as a female reporter squirmed uncomfortably in her seat in response to his bloody descriptions. He smiled at her in apology, then sobered. 

"I ran for the safety of the trees. I heard the sound of silenced gunshots behind me as I forced myself to go faster despite the pain that I experienced with every step I took. I hid behind a thick bush to catch my breath, and I saw the truck leave. It would have been foolish for me to believe I was safe at that point, so I kept hidden under the cover of trees and shrubs as I distanced myself from the road."

David stared at the dark wood of the podium. 

"It wasn't until I found myself at the Thames that I allowed my exhaustion to overtake me. I collapsed beside the water, and I didn't awaken until night had fallen. I was cold, hungry, and I still didn't know where I was. I followed the river until I began to recognize my surroundings, and I realized that I was in Oxford. My body and mind fiercely ached from the day's events and I longed for sleep."

He regarded the crowd before him, the sadness visible in his smoky eyes. 

"I hadn't been to Oxford for a very long time, and for that reason I had no place to go in town and no one to turn to for help. As if my body had separated from my mind, I stumbled into the churchyard in Headington where I was later found by the old man, naked and shivering against the graves of my family."

His expressive mouth trembled at the last words, and he shook his head. 

"That is all I have to say for now. Thank you for listening."

David left the podium and returned to the waiting wheelchair, and the heavy silence was shattered by the explosion of questions shouted by the swarm of reporters despite the earlier statement that no questions would be honored with a response.

As the nurse wheeled David away, he heard someone ask him a question.

"Mr. Anami, where is your wife? Your child? Why aren't they here?"

His mouth tightened as he stared straight ahead. 

That's a very good question, but I don't have an answer for it.

As David and his entourage left the conference room, a Scotland Yard inspector stepped up to the podium and held up a large manila envelope for the crowd to see. 

"We are currently following the leads that Mr. Anami was so kind to give us concerning his abductors, including a full description of the truck used in the kidnapping as well as information that possibly ties this organization to the death of Travis Cooper, a business associate of Mr. Anami's who was brutally murdered in New York more than a week ago."

The inspector opened the envelope and pulled out a sealed plastic bag containing a man's wallet, a gold Rolex, a wedding band and a small piece of paper.

"These items were sent anonymously to Mr. Anami's business this past Friday afternoon, and we have identified that they belonged to Mr. Cooper. Everything is perfectly intact; his money, identification and credit cards are all accounted for. The note is composed of letters cut and pasted from newspapers, and it reads: 'You're next, Anami.'"

The room was filled with intrigued whispers as the reporters' minds whirled over the possibilities. The inspector held up a hand to quiet them down. 

"As a result of these latest developments, Mr. Anami is no longer considered a suspect in this crime. He is free to return home after he is discharged from this facility, and our new objective is to apprehend these individuals before they strike again."

At that moment, a policeman entered the room and motioned for the inspector. He stepped away from the podium and walked toward the younger man, trying to ignore the press. The man whispered to him, and the inspector visibly blanched at the news.

* * * 

They were back in David's room, where they could finally speak privately.

"Liam, I am going to dismiss Knight as soon as we return home."

The Irishman sat up in his chair beside the hospital bed, his eyes wide with shock.

"What? Why would you want to do something like that?"

David adjusted the bed so he could sit up comfortably and meet Liam's eyes.

"Because I believe that hiring him was only a knee-jerk reaction to Cooper's death, that's why. I was afraid that someone would make the connection to me somehow because of the Gift, and I wanted to be rid of it. But now I've come back to my senses and I've changed my mind; I know I had nothing to do with what happened, and even if someone did know about my abilities, who would believe them?"

He sighed deeply before continuing. "Yesterday I connected to the Morrigan for the first time in ages, and I don't want to give that up for anything. When we return to New York, which I hope will be as early as tomorrow, I'll apologize to Knight for bringing him all that way for nothing. I'll be the courteous host and offer him another few days in the city at my expense, and then he'll be gone."

Liam shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know what to say to this, David. A week ago you were determined to sever yourself from the Morrigan once and for all. While you were sitting on my couch, eyes puffy from lack of sleep and downing vodka as if it was water, you kept saying that it's never the fault of the deity that grants the power, but the one who receives it and uses it for their own selfish ends. The guilt over what you'd done all those years ago still simmers within you, and because of that trauma you thought that somehow you lost control of the Gift and killed Cooper. But now you're certain that you don't want to be parted from it, even though it's the root of all the fear and uncertainty in your life. Why? Please help me understand this."

David took a deep breath. "You must experience the Gift for yourself in order to truly understand, and that is something you can never do. Right now, my link with the Morrigan is the only thing that keeps me sane while my world falls apart. It keeps me alive. I almost gave up everything yesterday as I stood by the river, ready to throw myself in. Then I felt the healing warmth of the Goddess flow through me, and I knew I would survive."

Liam felt a curious tightening of his chest as he listened to his friend's words. 

"What about Grace? Rafe? Aren't they motivation enough for you to live?"

A sad smile curled David's beautiful mouth. "I don't know anymore, my friend. It's been a long time since I've felt such a distance between myself and those closest to me. I'm not connected to them anymore, Liam. I feel as if I'm an astronaut whose safety line has snapped while in orbit. I'm floating away into space and I can't do anything to stop it. I've lost them, and I don't know how to get them back. My God, I don't know if it's even possible." 

Liam opened his mouth to reply, but he forgot what he was going to say when he saw a determined look in David's eyes as he reached for the bedside telephone.

"Who are you calling?"

David's aristocratic fingers flew on the dial pad. "Grace."

Liam cursed softly. "Damn it! I forgot to tell her about you in all the excitement."




Dark Impulse Ch. 20



With a raised eyebrow, David glanced at his friend as he waited.

"Obviously she's going to learn the news now."

* * * 

The Cloisters

Grace walked through the Cuxa Cloister garden, taking in the fresh air and late morning sunlight in the hopes that they would somehow renew her spirit after it had nearly been torn apart from the experience of seeing Gabriel again after so long. 

She sat down on a nearby bench and closed her eyes, remembering the feelings of yearning that had stirred within her when he had taken her into his arms. The look in his eyes when she accused him of having an ulterior motive for seeking her out, and that his talk of love was nothing but smoke and mirrors to confuse and trap her. 

He said that I couldn't be more wrong. My God, why do I always have to feel like a lovesick teenager around him? Why can't I just resist him and get on with my life?

She felt a burning sensation behind her closed lids as her conscience intervened, whispering to her in a loving tone. You know why. You know what you must do.

Grace jumped as her cell phone rung, interrupting her thoughts. "Hello?"

She heard the sound of a man clearing his throat. "Darling, it's me. David."

She suddenly felt as if all her blood had turned to ice, her heart pumping in vain. She exhaled slowly. "David, you startled me. Thank goodness that you're all right."

"For the most part, yes." He paused for a moment before he continued in a low voice.

"Grace, I... the events of the weekend have forced me to seriously consider our situation and what the future holds for us. You were constantly in my thoughts."

She sighed, clutching the phone tighter. "I thought of you also. I was so afraid for you, and I felt incredibly guilty for not dropping everything and flying over there at the first opportunity."

David clicked his tongue in disagreement. "No, you did the right thing by not coming. It's a media circus here; I wouldn't want you or Rafe to be exposed to such scrutiny."

Grace brought a hand to her temple, trying to massage away the tension which seemed to reside permanently beneath the skin, flesh and bone. 

"What else did you want to say?"

She heard him take a deep breath. "I've been thinking about what you said to me on the phone two nights ago. I couldn't think of anything else. Amazing Grace..."

David bit his lip hard, hating the way his voice wavered.

"I have loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you that day on the mountain, and I will love you until the day I die. Grace, I know how deeply unhappy you are, and even though everything in me screams to hold on, I couldn't do that to you. You win, my love. I'll give you a divorce as soon as I return."

Grace clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound that threatened to escape the confines of her throat. She felt a mixture of shock and worry, but mostly relief.

Hot tears trailed down her face, ruining her carefully applied mascara.

Joy at an impending divorce. How odd that must seem, but that's how I feel.

She sobbed quietly into the phone. "Oh, David. Thank you."

A tear ran down David's cheek as his voice hardened.

"There's something that I want in return."

Grace dabbed at her face with a tissue, a cold feeling growing in her stomach.

"Which is?"

David glanced at Liam, whose expression was unreadable as he stared back.

He returned his attention to the phone. "It concerns the masquerade gala. I don't need to tell you how important this event is. I would greatly appreciate it if the decision to terminate our marriage is kept under wraps until after the party. This means that I'd like for you to perform a masquerade of your own, my dear. Pretend to be a loving wife, that's all that I ask. Support me and stand beside me in the public eye."

She considered his words and decided that it was a small price to pay for her freedom. One night of press coverage, playing a happy couple for the cameras. 

What could possibly go wrong?

"All right, David. I'll do it."

"Thank you, Grace. This means a lot to me. I'll ask the doctor to release me as soon as possible so I can come home, hopefully tomorrow..."

Grace's eyes widened. "Doctor? Where are you now?"

"I'm in the hospital, darling. I was in pretty bad shape when I was found."

The cold sensation in her stomach multiplied. "My God, what happened to you?"

"I don't want to get into it again. I'm sure the news channels will show my press conference ad nauseum for the rest of the day. Where are you?"

Grace stood from the bench and began to pace. "I'm at the Cloisters. Something happened at the university and I needed to go somewhere where I could think."

David frowned. "What happened? Was anyone hurt?"

Her teeth clenched as she glared at the phone before returning it to her ear.

"Yes. I was hurt beyond belief. I felt betrayed, disappointed that my husband would stoop so low as to have my office completely destroyed for certain items that weren't on the premises."

He flinched at the hot anger in her voice. "Poppet, I have no idea what you're talking about."

At his words, Grace threw her head back and laughed bitterly. "You don't? Maybe you should ask those apes that work for you what I mean. I'm as certain that you sent them on a search and destroy mission for the shirt as I am about my own name."

He shuddered hard as his mind raced. 

"Why would I do something like that, Grace? You told me that you burned it, so why would I be so distrusting and resentful of you to do something so malicious?"

She was silent, and David pushed on. 

"Did you lie to me before when you said you incinerated the shirt?"

Her throat was as dry as a desert, but she managed to reply. "Yes."

David ran a hand over his face. "Why?"

"Because I was afraid of you. I still am."

"And what did you hope to gain from keeping these items that could send me to prison for the rest of my life? Or execute me if I'm sent to Texas for the trial? This isn't a game, Grace. This is my life!"

Grace licked her lips nervously. 

"All I wanted was security, some leverage in case you didn't agree to a divorce."

He leaned forward in the hospital bed. "Well, I have agreed to it and I give you my word that I will follow through. Please dispose of the evidence as soon as possible."

She briefly thought of Mosely. "I'll be rid of it by this time tomorrow, I promise."

David heard a noise in the room and looked up to see Liam opening the door for the Scotland Yard inspector. He returned his attention to the phone.

"Good. I have to let you go now, Grace. I have one more favor to ask of you."

"Yes?"

His eyes narrowed. "Wear your blasted wedding ring for once."

* * * 

David returned the phone to its cradle and directed his attention to the inspector.

"What can I do for you, Inspector Chambers?"

The portly man stepped closer to the hospital bed, his face pale.

"I apologize for interrupting your rest, Mr. Anami, but I have alarming news."

David's brow creased at the other man's words. "Yes?"

"Your associate, Colin Westbridge, was found dead less than half an hour ago."

David gasped in shock. "What? Oh my God! How did this happen?"

Chambers tilted his head, regarding Anami's reaction. It seemed genuine.

"I will tell you, but first I must ask both of you a few questions."

David's gaze went over the inspector's shoulder to rest on Liam, who was silent.

He met Chambers' eyes again. "Go ahead."

The inspector cleared his throat. "When was the last time you saw Westbridge?"

"Saturday afternoon."

Chambers scribbled in his notebook. "He never confided in you about any problems, personal or financial?"

David shook his head. "Colin wasn't exactly the type to open up to others in regard to his private affairs, and even if he was I would have been the very last person with whom he would have discussed them."

Chambers raised an eyebrow. "Why, exactly?"

Liam spoke up. "Because he hated Mr. Anami as well as myself, Inspector. He deeply resented the fact that he had to sell his business to David, and he didn't exactly keep his hostility toward us a secret. The man was a troublemaker, pure and simple."

Chambers turned around, facing Liam. 

"Let's move on to you, Mr. Kilpatrick. You were seen arguing with Westbridge today in the cafeteria. Would you care to tell me what the two of you were discussing?"

Liam's eyes darkened, flashed. "I'd be glad to. Colin approached me in his usual hateful manner and taunted me, saying that he knew the identity of the man who sent the death threat."

The inspector's eyes widened. "What happened next?"

The Irishman sighed. "Westbridge wanted money from David in exchange for the information, and I lost my temper. I asked him if he was the one behind it all, the hate mail and Cooper's death. He just smiled at me, and I wanted to throttle him. I forced myself to cool down and I told Colin that I would pass the message to David."

David's eyes narrowed at Liam. "This is the first I've heard of this, Inspector."

Liam looked back at David, his eyes apologetic. 

"The opportunity never came up, mate. Believe me. All our energy was focused on the press conference. I was going to tell you when the time was right."

David leaned back, his cloudy gray eyes meeting and warring with stormy blue. "'When the time is right,' you say. Now he's dead, along with his secrets."

Chambers was uncomfortable with the sudden tension in the air.

"Mr. Kilpatrick, where were you this afternoon?"

Liam studied the inspector closely. 

"I was in one of the hospital offices, making phone calls. There is a nurse on duty who can verify that, Inspector, in case you're making any assumptions. What's more, there was a point when I called Westbridge's home and spoke with him."

Chambers wrote more notes. "About?"

Liam crossed his arms. "The conversation involved a business meeting that had to be canceled because Anami was missing. I called to ask Colin if it was possible to reschedule."

"What time was this?"

Liam thought for a moment. "Five minutes past four. We spoke very briefly, and by the end of the call he sounded rather rattled."

"By what, do you think?"

A wry smile appeared on Liam's lips. "I have no idea. Inspector, it is quite obvious where this line of questioning is going, and you're clearly wasting your time. I have been here at the hospital since 6:30 this morning, and I haven't left. My presence here will be fully accounted for once you ask the staff, I'm sure."

Chambers closed his notebook and returned it to his coat pocket.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Kilpatrick, since I know that neither you or Mr. Anami could have been involved. I received information a few moments ago about the state of the body and Westbridge's home, and everything suggests that he committed suicide. The police found vast amounts of cocaine on the premises, his wrists were violently slashed with the same razor blade that was used for the drug, and there are witnesses in the building across the street that clearly saw him jump to his death."

Liam snorted in disgust. "Well that's a bit over the top, even for him."

David looked at Chambers. "Poor Kitty. Was she the one to find the body?"

The inspector nodded grimly. 

"Mrs. Westbridge returned home soon afterward to find several police officers surrounding the scene. She saw her husband, bloody and broken on the pavement."

David shook his head sadly. "Thank you for informing us, Inspector."

"I apologize again for bearing such news during your recovery. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Inspector Chambers." Liam smiled as he opened the door for him to leave. Once the older man had left the room, Liam leaned against the closed door and whispered under his breath, "And good riddance."

David stared at his heart rate monitor as he heard an incensed Liam sit once more in the chair. 

"Can you believe the gall of that man? He knew all along that it was a suicide, but he singled me out for his twisted amusement! 'Where were you at the time of the murder, Mr. Kilpatrick?' As if this was some bloody cheap paperback mystery!"

He raised a hand to silence Liam. "What did Westbridge actually say to you?"

Liam loosened his tie, leaning back in the chair with a sigh. "He wanted to blackmail you, David. He said that he saw what happened to Cooper that night, and he wanted ten million pounds by tomorrow or he would go to the police."

David was silent for a moment. "And what happened during the phone call?"

"I challenged him, threatened him. I knew that he was lying about seeing everything. No one could have possibly known such things, David. What I told Chambers was true; we did talk very briefly, and Westbridge was definitely afraid when the call ended."

David frowned at his friend. "And then he slit his wrists and threw himself off a building."

Liam shrugged nonchalantly, his eyes cool. 

"After doing half the coke in South America? Apparently so."

"Why would someone do that? Make a threat and then kill himself?"

Liam stood up and leaned over the bed, his face just inches from David's.

"Who cares? That's one less vindictive asshole that we have to deal with, mate. If he did indeed know something, as you said before, his secrets are dead now."

David looked up at his oldest friend, and for the first time he felt as if he didn't know him at all. 

"That's a rather cold way of looking at the situation, isn't it?"

Liam pulled away and walked toward the door.

"Where Westbridge is concerned, it's the only way. I certainly won't miss the bastard, and considering the extremely ill will he had for us, neither should you. Now enough talk on this unpleasant subject; I'm going to seek out the doctor and see about getting you released tomorrow. Cheer up, man! We're going home soon!"

He left the room, leaving David to stare at the door after him. 

Yes, but what will happen to home once we return? 



Dark Impulse Ch. 21



The Greenwich

Upon returning to his apartment, Gabriel immediately closed the blinds, blocking out the harsh glare of the noonday sun. He climbed into bed, dead tired from his lack of sleep the night before. His entire being was crushed by despair. 

She didn't believe a word that I said about loving her. She didn't want to listen. 

Trembling slightly, he buried his face in the bedspread and allowed his exhaustion to envelop him, to carry him into another dream.

* * * 

The weather was as hot as Hell itself. Gabriel could feel the heat of the blazing sun on his closed eyes as he slowly regained consciousness. The last thing that he remembered was the menacing swarm of black birds approaching from the sky, pursuing him and Grace. She had stopped at the edge of the trees, begging him to wait as her hand reached out to nothing. He recalled his great confusion at the time, but now her reasons were clear to him.

The child. She was a mother, with an instinct to protect her child from harm.

Gabriel heard the splashing of water in the distance, giggles and whispers. He cracked open his eyes and saw that he was still in Central Park, lying on a checkered blanket which was stretched over the grass. He sat up and saw a picnic basket beside him, filled to the brim with ripe and juicy fruit, bread, cheese and wine. 

"So, you're finally awake."

Startled by the sudden sound of Grace's voice, he turned around on the blanket in time to watch her emerge from the cool water of the Lake. She'd been swimming with her clothes on, and as she stepped out Gabriel saw her peach dress cling faithfully to every curve of her body. His mouth went dry as she drew closer.

She stood over him, and he felt her eyes travel the length of his body like licks of fire. She slowly lowered herself onto the blanket beside him, her gaze never leaving his face.

He stared at her. "Gracie..."

Grace placed a finger against his mouth, silencing him. Her voice was tender.

"I love you, too."

Before he could respond, she kissed him hard and long. Her mouth was desperate and hungry against his, and he felt as if his soul was floating away on the breeze. She broke the kiss, her eyes shining like onyx jewels. Her expression was one of feverish longing and torment, and Gabriel reached out to touch her face.

A slight rustling sound captured his attention and he looked over Grace's shoulder to see Rafe standing beside the water, watching them. When the child's eyes met Gabriel's, he smiled widely at him. Gabriel smiled back, his heart pounding.

Rafe's eyes were still locked with Gabriel's as he addressed his mother.

"Can I go play in the trees, Mom?"

Grace reached into the picnic basket and retrieved a strawberry before looking over her shoulder at Rafe. "Yes, but don't go too far away, sweetheart."

The boy smiled again and ran into the thicket of trees, and when he disappeared Gabriel finally snapped out of the trance that had come over him.

He looked at me with such hope in his eyes. What do you want from me, kid?

He returned his attention to Grace, who stared back at him as she gently bit into the strawberry. Some juice covered her lips, and Gabriel felt his body stirring as he watched her lick it away. Leaning forward, she held the fruit to his lips.

"Want some?"

He couldn't take his eyes off of her; she was a sweet temptress, Eve before sin was released into the world. Her hair was still damp from her swim, and it flowed seamlessly down her shoulders and back like ebony silk. He took a bite from the berry, and he could hear his blood rushing in his ears as he chewed and swallowed. 

It had been far too long since he had been so close to a woman, dream or no dream. 

As if she read his thoughts, Grace removed the berry from his mouth and replaced it with her moist lips. Heat surged through Gabriel as he responded to her kiss, his tongue meeting hers in an erotic dance. They both moaned from the intensity before she placed her hands on his chest, pushing him down onto the blanket.

Against his will, Gabriel's thoughts returned to the previous danger and he briefly held her away from him. "Why is everything suddenly so peaceful here, Gracie?"

She climbed on top of him, her wet hair dripping water onto his face and neck as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt. A slight smile played on her lips as she revealed his chest to her heated gaze. She looked into his eyes as she spoke.

"We are in the eye of the storm, Gabriel. The threat has passed for now, but it will return. It is only a matter of time before it comes back, stronger and more fierce than before. Until then, we should focus on us. Together, we can survive anything."

She reached for a succulent grape and held it over his exposed skin, crushing it in her hand. He groaned as the juice ran in rivulets over his bared flesh, the feelings of desire growing too powerful to deny. She followed the trails with her satiny tongue, and he automatically reached up to cradle her head in his hands. Moaning, he arched up to her mouth as she tasted him, lost in the shattering sensations.

"Gracie... you have no idea how much I've missed you."

She raised her head to whisper hotly in his ear. "Show me."

Gabriel brought her down to him as he flipped them over. He hovered above her, trying to capture every detail of the perfect moment in his memory. His eyes darkened with passion as he clearly read the signs of her excitement; her shallow breathing, the unfocused quality of her gaze, the writhing movements of her body.

He lowered his head and kissed along the hollow of her throat, his lips leaving a searing heat in their wake that caused Grace to cry out and grasp his wide shoulders. 

Her voice shook. "Gabriel, I'm scared."

He raised himself onto his arms and looked down at her.

"I would never do anything to hurt you, baby. Not again."

She brought his face to her heaving breasts, and he could hear the racing of her heart beneath his ear. Her voice was thick, filled to overflowing with emotion.

"It's not you that I fear, but myself. I want you so much, but I'm so damned afraid of opening up to you that I... I just can't allow myself to..."

Grace trailed off with a heavy sigh, and he searched her eyes with his own. 

The words came from the depths of his soul and spilled from his lips.

"Listen to me, Gracie. You can trust me, I swear to you. Please, don't shut me out." 

The sound of a snapping twig startled them from their intimate embrace, and Grace sat up on the blanket, tilting her head towards the trees.

"Rafe? Is that you?" 

There was no response. In the circle of Gabriel's arms, Grace shivered from the sudden chill that swept across her skin. Clearing her throat, she tried again. 

"Sweetie, is everything okay?"

The only sounds they could hear were of the steadily growing wind at their backs and of their own breathing. Grace gently broke away from Gabriel and stood up, heading in the direction of where Rafe had gone moments before.

"Rafe, honey? If this is a joke, I'm not laughing..."

When she disappeared into the trees, Gabriel rose from the blanket and looked around. His brow furrowed as he noticed the dark gray clouds in the sky. 

There weren't any clouds before... and I've never seen them move so rapidly.

He turned, his eyes searching the woods for a glimpse of Grace's peach sun dress He couldn't see anything, so he drew closer and called out to her. 

"Gracie! We've got to hurry and get out of here. Something's not right."

He turned again to face the water, and he jumped when he saw Rafe standing before him. The little boy stared up at him with fear in his eyes.

"Have you seen my mom, Mister?"

Gabriel felt a wave of panic swell in his stomach at the thought of Grace possibly getting lost in the woods, and it took everything he had to suppress it so he wouldn't frighten the child. He forced a smile as he bent down slightly towards Rafe.

"She went looking for you, kid. Let's go and see if we can find her, okay?"

He held out his hand, and the little boy took it without a moment's hesitation. 

Just then, a bloodcurdling scream erupted from the trees. A woman's scream.

Gabriel felt his heart screech to a halt. Oh, God.

The short span of a few seconds seemed like an eternity as Gabriel and Rafe ran down the path, navigating through the twisted maze of trees in search of Grace. Gabriel's palms grew sweaty from the exertion and sheer terror that he felt, and the boy held on tighter so he wouldn't slip out of Gabriel's grip. 

Finally, they reached a clearing and Gabriel saw Grace lying motionless on the ground. He turned to Rafe and knelt down, placing his hands on the little boy's shoulders and meeting his eyes.

"I need you to stay here for a minute. Would you do that for me?"

Rafe nodded silently, his eyes trusting. Gabriel ruffled the boy's hair affectionately before he rose and cautiously walked towards Grace with a feeling of dread.

Please God, let her be okay. Lord, I beg of you. Please...

His view of Grace blurred with tears as he approached; she was as still as a statue. He fell to his knees on the ground beside her, his hands automatically reaching out to search for a pulse that he knew he wouldn't find. She was dead.

The pain of his realization was so intense that he wanted to join her. He gathered her lifeless body in his arms and threw his head back, screaming out his sorrow and rage. He didn't care when the skies opened up and the hot rain poured down, he didn't care about anything except that the woman he loved was dead. 

A small hand touched his arm, and Gabriel heard Rafe's sobs echo his own. He reached out for the child and felt his tiny face burrow into the warmth of his chest.

They sat there for a long time as the rain continued to fall, mixing with their tears. 

* * * 

Gabriel awoke to a wet pillow and a stomach tight with tension as he tried to analyze the meaning behind the dream. He had to see Grace as soon as possible, to warn her and try to connect with her. The ringing of the cordless telephone beside the bed interrupted his thoughts; he picked it up and pushed the button.

"Hello?"

"Gabriel, it's me."

Hearing Grace's familiar voice after experiencing such a dream took his breath away. The power of his relief was staggering, and Gabriel felt himself sway.

"Are you there?"

He forced himself to get his act together, and with effort he managed to answer. 

"Gracie, yes. I'm here. Sorry, I just... I guess I hadn't really expected you to call."

He heard her sigh on the other end of the line.

"Well, I've been thinking about what you said. I've decided to help."

He gripped the phone tightly, feeling dizzy with the hope of winning her trust. 

"Really? Thank you, Grace. You won't regret this, I promise you."

Grace's voice sounded both wary and weary. 

"I hope that I won't. We'll keep in touch."

Realizing that she intended to hang up, Gabriel leaned forward in bed.

"Gracie, wait!"

She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to massage away the ache there. 

"Yes?"

Gabriel looked at the clock; it was 6pm. He had slept the entire day away.

"Where are you now?" He had to see her with his own eyes, talk with her up close.

"I'm calling from a bar in Midtown, near Rockefeller Center. Why?"

He licked his lips, which had gone dry. "Want some company?"

Grace was silent for a long moment. Gabriel heard her soft breathing as she thought over his suggestion, and he prayed that she would say yes.

She took a deep breath before replying. "I'm sorry but I have to decline. I only came here to use the pay phone, and after I call Mosely I'll be running around again."

Gabriel tried his best not to let his disappointment show in his voice, but it was painfully obvious anyway. He grasped desperately at straws, trying to save face as the feeling of rejection clawed at his insides.

"Oh. Okay. That's okay. I just thought that... hey, you're going to call Mose?"

She bit her lip at the hurt that she sensed in his voice after she turned him down.

"Yes. I was going to do it earlier, but I had to give a statement to the campus police about the break-in at my office. I just got out of there a little while ago."

Gabriel leaned back against the pillows, grateful for the change in subject. 

"How did that go?"

Grace sighed heavily, scoffed at herself. 

"I told them that I had no idea who could have done such a thing. Indeed, I'm having a hard time figuring out what's really happening."

A frown crossed his face at her words. "What do you mean by that, Gracie?"

She rested her head against the wall of the phone booth, cradling the receiver.

"After you left the Cloisters, David called my cell phone. I lost my temper and accused him of being behind the break-in. You should have heard the confusion in his voice; he actually sounded as if he didn't know anything about it."

Gabriel tucked a lock of hair behind his ear thoughtfully. 

"What do you make of this?"

Mystified, she shook her head even though she knew he couldn't see her.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Gabriel. When I stood in the wreckage of my office, my instincts told me that it was him. But his reaction was very strange, and now I'm extremely confused. I don't know what to think anymore, or what to feel."

He closed his eyes and recalled her embrace in his dream. Her kisses, her passionate hunger. When he spoke again, his urgency was clear in his voice.

"What do you feel, Gracie?"

Grace paused; it was apparent that he wasn't talking about David anymore. She closed her own eyes, and she could almost feel Gabriel standing beside her. She felt as if she could reach out her hand and touch him, his presence was so strong.

She looked down and saw that her hands were shaking. Balling them into fists, she cleared her throat and disengaged her thoughts from their dangerous course. 

"I feel that we should end this call now, so I can speak with Mosely."

Gabriel ran a hand over his face, silently chiding himself.

Damn. I really set myself up for that one, didn't I?

His voice was plaintive when he replied. "When can I see you again?"

Grace's breath caught at the vulnerability that she heard in his words, which were spoken in a voice that sounded like warm honey, sultry and soothing, and for the third time that day she wondered if he was for real. 

The words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. "Tomorrow's my day off. I'm going to be busy for most of the morning, but afterwards I'm free."

A pleasantly surprised grin spread across Gabriel's face at her response. He had expected another rejection. "Where do you want to meet, and when?"

She felt her face flush with pleasure when she noticed that his tone instantly changed from solemn to enthusiastic when she'd stopped trying to push him away. 

"Sonnet Books, on the corner of West 57th and 8th near Columbus Circle at noon."

Gabriel's grin widened. "Okay, Gracie. Looks like you've got yourself a date."

Despite herself, she felt a smile of her own growing. The man was insufferable. 

"This is not a date, Gabriel. It's strictly business."

He chuckled softly, and the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck stood up in awareness.

"Whatever you say, darlin'. I'm looking forward to seeing you, no matter the circumstances."

She didn't know what to say to that, except "See you tomorrow, then."

He sighed softly. "Bye, baby."

* * * 

Grace returned the phone to its cradle, stunned once again by Gabriel's tenderness. 

My God, he's acting as if we were an actual couple! As if five years worth of obstacles, silence and built-up resentment didn't exist! As if I wasn't married...

She tried to squash the tiny voice inside that whispered reminders that she wouldn't be married for much longer. She shook her head as if she could rid herself of the hope of reuniting with Gabriel that way, but it didn't work. All it did was make the throbbing in her skull increase tenfold, until the numbers on the keypad in front of her eyes blurred and melted away like ice. 

She pressed her face against the cool glass of the old-fashioned phone booth as she tried to will her breathing and pulse back to their normal pace.

A middle-aged woman noticed Grace's struggle and lightly tapped on the glass beside her head, concern in her eyes. "Are you okay, sugar?"

In the several minutes since ending her conversation with Gabriel, the hellish pounding had slowly faded to a manageable level. She managed to smile at the woman.

"Yes, I'm fine now. Thank you."

The woman nodded hesitantly and returned to her companions, and Grace eventually turned her attention back to the task at hand. She opened her purse and retrieved the business card that Mosely had sent her. She picked up the phone and dialed his home number, proud of herself when she punched it in with a steady hand. 

"Mosely."

She couldn't help but smile into the phone. "Hello, Mose. It's been a long time."

For a moment, he couldn't breathe. "Grace?"

"Yes, it's me. I want to set up a meeting with you as soon as possible."

Mosely fumbled with the words, tongue-tied from hearing her voice after so long.

"You do? Sure! What day do you have in mind?"

Over her shoulder, Grace heard someone make a music selection from the bar's jukebox, and a moment later the place was filled with a smooth R&B beat.

She nervously bit her bottom lip. 

"I'm sorry if this is short notice, but I was wondering if we could meet tomorrow morning. If you're not able to get away from D.C. so soon, I understand..."

"No! I mean, yes. I can get away for a few hours tomorrow. Just say the word."

Grace smiled again. "Wonderful. Meet me at 10am in front of the Manhattan Bank..."

Her smile abruptly faded and she grew silent as she remembered what else she had to do the next day besides meeting old friends and flames. Unpleasant business which she wished with all her heart she could avoid, but couldn't afford not to. The price would be too high if she didn't get it over with for her own peace of mind.

"Grace, what's wrong?" Mosely's worried voice shocked her out of her thoughts.

She cleared her throat. "I was just thinking that 10:30 would be better."

He didn't sound convinced, but to her relief he changed the subject. 

"So, what's this all about? I take it that this isn't entirely a social call."

Her smile was wistful. Sad. "No, it's not. I have something to show you that may be related to my husband's investigation. It's in my safe deposit box."

Mosely leaned forward in his chair. "Grace, haven't you heard the news?"

Grace frowned as her stomach clenched. "What news?"

"The investigation has been called off indefinitely."

Her hand gripped the receiver so tightly, it was a miracle that it was still in one piece. Her throat moved, but no words would come out. When she finally spoke, her voice was strained. 

"W-What? Why would they stop it just like that?"

Mosely sighed heavily. "I guess you didn't watch television today."

"What would I have seen, Mose?"

"You would have seen your husband giving a press conference from the London area hospital where he's staying, telling the world about his kidnapping and attempted assassination at the hands of mercenary nutcases. Nutcases who, apparently, are also responsible for the death of Travis Cooper."

Grace's hand flew to her mouth to smother a gasp. 

Oh my God. Why didn't David tell me what happened when he called? Was it because his pride prevented him from telling such a thing to the wife who wants a divorce, or because it wasn't true? The blood sample on the shirt: Was it really from a fight, like he told me, or was it as I suspected? What if I was wrong about him?




Dark Impulse Ch. 21



"What do you believe, Mose?"

He rubbed his hand over his short hair, as confused as she was.

"In my opinion, the timing is a tad suspicious. Everyone's attention was on Anami, and then suddenly this mountain of evidence magically appears and clears him... oh, Grace. I'm sorry to speak about your husband this way. You must be devastated."

Grace shook her head. "Don't worry about me, really. Of course, it's awful to feel this way about someone that I've pledged to spend the rest of my life with, someone I've raised a child with... but my marriage was doomed from the beginning. Whether David's a killer or not, it's over. We're going to divorce."

Mosely was silent for a long moment. "Have you said anything about this to Gabriel?"

Her tone grew cold. "No, not at all. Why the hell should I?"

"Because I believe that he's serious about wanting to be a part of your life again, that's why. Grace, I know that he hurt you in France, and God knows I wanted to tear him apart when you left. But I also saw how your leaving affected him. He locked himself up in that hotel room and refused to come out for days. He couldn't eat or sleep, couldn't do anything but sit on the bed and think about you. He brushed off Madeline as if she was a worthless piece of lint..."

Grace couldn't stop herself from interrupting. "Good! That nasty bitch..."

Mosely ignored the comment and pressed on. 

"And he hasn't so much as looked at another woman since that night. When he returned from the underground caverns and found you gone, he was going to confess that he loved you. Damn it, when it comes to matters of the heart the man can be as thick as a tree. But when he loves, it's with everything he has."

She remembered how long it took for him to get over Malia, and she had to agree.

Mosely continued. "Please, just consider what I'm telling you. Grace, I know what it's like to lose someone dear to me, and it is the closest to Hell I ever want to get."

Grace's eyes moistened with emotion, and she nodded silently.

He knew that she was listening to his argument in Gabriel's favor, and he needed to say one last thing. Something that had been on his mind for the last two days.

"Think it over. If not for yourself, then for the child."

She instantly snapped out of the peaceful cocoon that Mosely's words had weaved around her. "Excuse me? What are you talking about?"

"Come on, let's stop pretending. I know that the boy is really Gabriel's. Are you seriously willing to let your five-year old anger towards him rob your son of his rightful father? It's time to let it go, Grace. Please. Find it in your heart to forgive him before the resentment and guilt over what you're doing to Gabriel and your son eats you alive. You have to tell him. You have to tell them both the truth."

Panicking from Mosely's accurate words, she looked at her watch.

"Oh, wow! Look at the time! It was really great talking with you, Mose, but I'm afraid that I should get going. I've got a lot to do before I can rest. See you tomorrow."

"Grace, I..."

"Bye bye, now!" 

She hung up the phone, the sound of hard plastic colliding with metal ringing in her ears as she tried to pull herself together following the harsh realization of what she was really doing to her son. By denying him the knowledge that he had the right to know, she had become everything that she hated: a lying, deceitful manipulator who plays around with other people's emotions and lives for their own twisted amusement.

But I never saw it that way, and it was never for amusement! It was out of necessity. I wanted to protect my child from a person who wouldn't have given a damn about his existence if he had known, someone who always looks out for Number One and to hell with everyone else!

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop her next thought from being voiced.

Is Gabriel Knight really that person? I'm not so sure anymore.

Grace slowly stepped out of the phone booth and sat down at a nearby table. When the waitress came, she ordered a vodka straight up instead of her usual cup of tea. She felt the need for a good stiff drink to help her sort things through.

The tunes on the jukebox were in high demand that evening. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another customer put change in the slot and select a song. As her drink was placed before her, she recognized the voice of Mariah Carey singing the chorus of "Breakdown," and her thoughts returned to Gabriel.

Well, I guess I'm trying to be

Nonchalant about it

And I'm going to extremes

To prove I'm fine without you

But in reality I'm 

Slowly losing my mind

Underneath the guise of a smile,

Gradually I'm dying inside...

She tossed her head back and drained the glass, the alcohol burning a trail all the way down before hitting a stomach that had been empty for days. Her head swam slightly as she went to the front of the establishment to pay for the drink, still humming along to the chorus and feeling sorry for herself. 

Friends ask me how I feel,

And I lie convincingly,

'Cause I don't want to reveal

The fact that I'm suffering

So, I wear my disguise

'Til I go home at night

And turn down all the lights

And then I break down and cry...

She left the bar and hailed a taxi to take her back to the studio apartment to pick up Rafe and Leon. She said goodbye to her father for the day before taking the kids to Evelyn's. She needed a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on.

The Saint Mark

As soon as the two boys disappeared into Leon's room to play, Grace crumpled into sobs in her best friend's arms and told her everything that had happened that day. Evelyn said nothing while she poured her heart out, giving only the comfort of her presence. When Grace finished, Eve finally spoke up.

"Why do you insist on fighting it, sweetie? The fact that he loves you is obvious to everyone except you. You are blinded by your past pain, and it's distorting everything around you and making you miserable. Let it go."

Grace wiped her face with a handkerchief. "It's not that easy."

Evelyn's eyes were warm as she looked at her friend.

"I never said that it was, but you have to try for your sake as well as Rafe's. Open your mind, if not your heart. Listen to what he has to say and follow your instincts."

Grace scoffed. "Instincts. You know what I think about my instincts? They're a complete crock. I thought that I was following my instincts when I suspected David of murder, but now it turns out that Cooper was killed by a bunch of militant crazies with a hard-on for killing wealthy and powerful men to spread their sick message. I thought David had a hand in trashing my office, but when I confronted him on the phone about it, he reacted as if I was crazy. Hell, maybe I am going crazy!"

Evelyn laid a hand on Grace's arm, grasping it firmly. 

"No, you're not! Stop talking like that. I'm not in the habit of keeping company with lunatics, much less trusting my only child to one, so you'll have to take my word for it when I say that you're one of the most stable people I know."

Grace released a shuddering breath at her words, relaxing a bit.

"Thanks for that, hon. But what on earth am I going to do now? David's been cleared, and I still have to dispose of the evidence. I still have the appointment with Mosely, but... do I give it to him or throw it away? Now that I know what happened in London, I can't help but feel ashamed of what I thought before about David. I'm supposed to be his wife, for God's sake!"

Evelyn let go of Grace's arm, allowing it to slip from her fingers.

"You said yourself that the marriage was over before it even began, so why are you suddenly retreating back into the role of dutiful wife? Is it because you truly feel sorry for the error in judgment - if it was indeed an error - concerning his character, or because you're so afraid of becoming available to Gabriel again?"

Grace closed her eyes at Eve's dead-on words. Both, but mostly the latter.

She was thankfully spared from answering the question when a high-pitched scream erupted from Leon's room, and both women rushed to investigate. 

They opened the door and entered, their maternal eyes automatically searching their children for injuries. Leon was holding his knee in his hands, tears in his eyes. In contrast, Rafe's expression was calm, his own hands on top of Leon's.

Reaching for her son, Evelyn spoke first. "Boys, what happened here?" 

Rafe carefully removed his hands from Leon before replying. 

"We were running around and Leon hit his leg on the cabinet."

Evelyn touched her son's hand, which was still over the wound.

"Let me see it, honey. I'll need to put something on it right away."

Leon shook his head. "No, Mom! Don't look, it's nasty!"

Grace knelt beside Leon. "Sweetie, let your mother see it. If it's nasty it means that it has to be taken care of quickly so it won't hurt you more or make you sick."

Leon sighed in defeat. "Okay."

His little hands fell away from the wound to reveal flawless, healthy skin. He stared in shock at the spot where the skin of his knee had previously been peeled away by his rough play and had bled, amazed and frightened by the sudden transformation.

Grace and Evelyn, unaware of the miracle that had occurred, looked at each other in frustrated disbelief. They turned their heads back to the surprised Leon.

Evelyn gave her son a stern look. 

"That wasn't funny, baby. I thought you were really hurt." 

Grace nodded in agreement. "That was a very dirty trick, Leon."

The two women kissed their sons on the forehead before leaving the room.

Leon called after them. "I skinned my knee! Honest!"

Confused, he turned to Rafe. "What happened?"

Rafe said nothing, slowly raising a finger to his smiling lips. "Shhh."



Dark Impulse Ch. 22



The Strand

Grace tossed and turned in her sleep, consumed by a restless fever. Her dreams were filled with exquisite images and indescribable sensations, and her skin sizzled from every single thing that her shadowy dream lover did to her.

* * *

In her mind's eye, he was there. He hovered above her, his copper hair shining in the moonlight as he bent his head to kiss her lips, her throat, and lower. His large and powerful hands reached for her, caressed her all over until she thought she would melt like hot wax. His touch blazed a trail across her exposed skin, leading down to the secret hollow between her thighs that ached for him to fill it.

"Gabriel, please..."

She felt him smile against her trembling skin before he lifted his head. The look in his eyes was hot and merciless, and for a moment she thought she was staring at the Devil himself. His wicked, teasing smile only added to the image.

"Please, what? You want more of this?"

As he spoke, he circled his fingers around her throbbing clitoris and caused Grace to arch her hips to seek more of the pleasure he gave. She moaned into the pillow, her eyes shining in the darkness of the bedroom as she watched him.

His green eyes glowed with satisfaction. "How about some of this?"

She gripped the sheets with her hands as he slid a thick finger inside her, then another. A low, primal scream escaped her as he began a maddening rhythm, taking her higher. Her head tossed from side to side as she tried in vain to speak.

"Gabriel... ohhh."

He smiled again, breathing harder from watching her excitement.

"I've got all night, darlin'. Tell me what you want."

She raised her arms, reaching for him. "You. I want you."

His eyes burned into hers as he gently removed his fingers from her feminine core, and as she watched, he slowly licked away her wetness from them.

Grace could hardly breathe as he climbed on top of her, positioning himself at her entrance. Their eyes locked, and for the first time she believed all of the things that the emerald depths seemed to shout at her. They said that he did indeed want her, love her.

She gasped as she felt his erection nudge her inner thigh, and she took a deep breath and opened her sex to him. He pushed carefully inside, and she almost wept with relief as she stretched to accommodate him. She opened her arms and he fell into her embrace as she wrapped her legs around his hips.

Her lover began to move; the flames inside her body leapt higher, burned brighter. He kissed her soft lips and moved his head to whisper hoarsely in her ear.

"You are mine, Gracie. Do you understand me? You'll never be free of me; I am as much a part of your mind, heart and soul as you are of mine. To deny me is to deny yourself, and when you hurt me, you only hurt more. Accept my love."

She cried against his shoulder as she felt the walls surrounding her heart begin to crumble and fall, stone by stone. She looked up into the eyes of the man she loved and decided to take a chance, to trust him. "Yes, Gabriel..."

Groaning, he pounded into her harder and she screamed out her joy as she exploded.

* * *

"Mom?"

Grace jumped at the sound of her son's voice as he gently shook her awake.

"Huh? What?"

Rafe stared at her in the darkness. "You were having a nightmare."

The gears started turning again in her brain, and she was fully alert.

She smiled at him. "Yes... I was. Thank you, sweetheart." 

Then a terrible thought came to her which forced her to add, "Did I say anything?"

Rafe shook his head. "No, you were just screaming."

Grace was relieved at that; she would have been mortified if she'd said anything to give away the true nature of her dream, never mind that her son was way too young to understand that sort of thing. She still would have been embarrassed. 

She sat up in bed. "Did I wake you, honey? I'm sorry."

"No, Mom. I woke up a few minutes ago because I dreamt about him again."

She felt another shiver pass through her which was no longer from desire, but fear. She reminded herself to breathe normally. "Anything new in the dream?"

Rafe thought for a moment before replying. 

"Everything is exactly the same except for the ending. Each night I have the dream, the ending is always slightly different than before. When he reaches for me to pick me up from the ground, the sun is in a different position in the sky behind him and I'm able to see more of his face and body."

Grace felt a lump in her throat. "How soon will it be before you see him totally?"

The little boy tilted his head to the side, regarding her curiously.

"Not long, maybe a couple of days. But I've already seen enough, I think."

She gasped softly. "Do you know him? Who is he to you?"

Rafe smiled brightly. "Yes, I know him. He's my guardian angel."

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, Mom."

She stared at his retreating back, unable to speak from the wave of self-disgust that had enveloped her at his words. She clenched her teeth, inadvertently biting her tongue in the process. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth but she didn't notice, her thoughts elsewhere.

He's close to finding out about Gabriel on his own, if he doesn't already know. I have painted myself into a corner. My son, even at such a tender age, is already as intuitive as his father. It's only a matter of time before I'm exposed and my ugly lies will come to light. Where will that leave me? Gabriel will hate me, and so will Rafe. I'll be alone with my grief and the constant thoughts of what might have been if I hadn't messed things up in the first place. I would do anything to prevent that.

Grace lowered herself against the pillows and eventually settled into a troubled sleep which was filled with dreams of a man holding a child in his arms while she watched from a distance, wanting nothing more than to join them.

When they saw her, they laughed at her.

* * *

The next morning, Grace stood in the kitchen as she brewed a pot of tea. Her movements were mechanical, her mind focused on Gabriel and how she must disentangle herself from him, drive him away. She told herself that her dreams of him meant nothing, and that the feelings of yearning that simmered inside her would eventually vanish. Several times, the dream Gabriel's words came back to haunt her.

To deny me is to deny yourself, and when you hurt me, you only hurt more.

She closed her eyes briefly at the memory, opening them again when she heard the shrill whistle of the tea kettle. She hurried to pour the hot liquid, glancing at the wall clock beside the refrigerator; it was 7:30am. She had a doctor's appointment in half an hour. 

The television was playing in the background as she loaded a tray with breakfast goodies to take into the living room. The popular morning talk show, along with its perky hostess, worked hard to spread the morning sunshine into every home nationwide. 

Grace placed the tray on the coffee table and sat down just as the show returned from the commercial break. Upbeat music and nature shots followed, and a moment later the cameras focused on the cheering live studio audience and then on the hostess, who was preparing to interview the show's next guest.

She nearly choked on her toast when she recognized the man sitting in the easy chair on the set; it was Gabriel. He was wearing jeans and a baby blue turtleneck that fit him perfectly and emphasized his red hair and green eyes. The camera panned over him, and she was painfully aware that the majority of the crowd in the studio was female. She didn't like the thought of that, all those women devouring him with their eyes. 

Like you are right now?

"Shut up," she muttered to herself as she grabbed the remote to turn up the volume.

The pretty blonde hostess smiled brightly at the camera, her blue eyes frequently darting in Gabriel's direction as she spoke. Grace wanted to slap her.

"Good morning and welcome to 'Juice & Coffee,' the show which you have kindly chosen to start off your day today. I'm Layla Stevens, and we have a very special guest with us this Tuesday morning. A man who eight years ago started his literary career in New Orleans with only a few dollars to his name, and is today one of the most successful authors out there. The Blake Backlash Trilogy, which has captured the imagination of readers worldwide, concludes with 'Sacred Blood,' a novel that has sparked a firestorm of controversy with several religious groups. Apparently, that's not enough to slow this powerhouse of a book down. Or its charming author, for that matter. Gabriel Knight, welcome to the show!"

Gabriel smiled warmly as he waited for the deafening applause to die down.

"Thank you very much, Ms. Stevens. It's good to be here."

The hostess pouted her delicately rouged lips, and Grace rolled her eyes.

"Please, call me Layla."

He tilted his head to the side, causing a lock of his hair to fall against his cheek as he smiled politely at her. Someone in the audience whistled softly.

"Only if you call me Gabriel."

Layla blushed and giggled, and Grace's eyes narrowed.

"Okay, Gabriel. Is it true that you're currently involved in talks with Hollywood because there's interest in bringing the Trilogy to the Big Screen?"

He thought for a moment before replying.

"I've been approached by movie producers a number of times these past few years concerning the novels, but for obvious reasons I'm not at liberty to name names. But yes, there has been a lot of interest in movie versions of 'Voodoo Murders' and 'Blood Wolves,' and soon 'Sacred Blood' will be considered as well."

Layla leaned forward. "Have any ideas about which celebrities will play the leads?"

Gabriel grinned. "I really couldn't say, Layla. I've been abroad for so long that I've completely lost track of all the talent Hollywood has to offer."

It was a minute before Layla realized that he had stopped talking. Clearing her throat in embarrassment, she shifted her gaze away from his lips and continued. 

"What brings you to New York?"

"Other than promoting the novel, I'm here on personal business and some sightseeing for good measure. This is my first time here, and I want to enjoy it to the fullest."

His words surprised Layla. "Really? This is your very first time here?"

He nodded, a bit uncomfortable with the hostess' attention. "Yes, that's right."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Wow. Everyone should come to visit New York at least once, you know? What sights do you most want to see, Gabriel?"

"Oh, the usual stuff. The Empire State Building, the Statue of Liberty..."

Grace was startled by the ringing of the doorbell, and she hurried to open the door. It was her father; he had come to watch Rafe while she went out.

She smiled at Hiroshi. "Morning, Dad."

He smiled back as he stepped inside and closed the door. 

"Hi, honey. Is the little man sleeping?"

She led her father into the living room and poured him some tea. 

"Yes, and he'll probably be asleep for a while. He had another dream last night."

"The same one? With the stranger?"

She nodded silently, her eyes fixed on the swirling brown liquid in the teacup.

"Grace, look at me."

She swallowed hard and met her father's eyes, which were shadowed with concern.

"Is there something that you haven't told me about Gabriel Knight?"

She smiled without mirth. "How much time do you have?"

Hiroshi patted the sofa cushion beside him. "Come sit with me."

She sat down silently, unable to believe what she was about to say.

He waited patiently. "I'm listening."

The words were there, waiting to be released. Her throat felt like it was closing up. 

"I don't want you to think that I'm crazy, Dad."

He frowned at her. "I know for a fact that you're not, sweetheart. Tell me."

Grace's gaze shifted from her father to the television. She pointed at Gabriel. 

"You know his books, the supernatural detective stories? They're based on real events."

Hiroshi was confused. "When you say 'real events,' you mean the actual police cases that he used as a reference to build the fictional stories around, right?"

She shook her head vehemently, breathing hard. 

"No. I mean that everything is real. The police cases, the folklore and magic. Even the creatures. All of it is real. Gabriel is a Schattenjäger, Dad."

"What's that?"

"It's German for 'Shadow Hunter,' a defender against Evil. He was hired to track down those things and eliminate them, and then he wrote books about his experiences. I helped him in those cases, and we grew... close. That's why I was so reluctant to return to school all those years ago and then ran off to Germany. I went to be with him."

Hiroshi watched his daughter as she stared at Gabriel's image on the screen. He saw the telltale moistness in her eyes, and everything clicked into place.

"He is Rafe's father, isn't he?"

Grace couldn't speak; the tears streaked down her face as she nodded. He opened his arms and she gratefully sank into them, crying her heart out against his shoulder. He kissed her forehead and rocked her like a baby. "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

He held his daughter while he looked over her shoulder at the TV. He reached for the remote and restored the sound that Grace had muted when he arrived.

The hostess continued her line of questioning about the novel.

"A warning to the viewers that haven't read the book: If you don't want to be spoiled, please mute the television for the next minute or so. We will flash a message on the screen to let you know when we're finished discussing this topic."

Layla returned her attention to Gabriel. "There has been some disappointment among your die-hard fans concerning the ending of 'Sacred Blood,' when Fujitsu leaves Blake for places unknown. Some have been so bold as to circulate a petition asking for a fourth installment to give them closure. What's your view on this, Gabriel?" 

He looked straight into the camera, and Grace caught her breath at the intensity of his eyes. It was as if he was speaking directly to her, and she shivered.

His face was serious as he spoke. "I consider myself to be a romantic at heart, so I want Blake and Fuji to wind up together as much as everyone else does, if not more. But there are certain issues to consider first: With the horrible way that Blake treated her in the book, is it really possible for Fuji to forgive him and enter a relationship with him? Or would she move on, find someone who would love her, respect and worship her the way she deserves? Blake was a fool, and she had every right to leave him. He wasn't worthy of her, and he failed to realize what a treasure he had in her until it was too late."

The entire studio echoed from the applause and catcalls that erupted from the women in the audience. Layla stared at Gabriel in shock and heightened interest.

"Wow! You're very passionate about your work."

Gabriel looked at the camera again. "What can I say? I was inspired."

As she wiped the tears from her eyes, Grace was touched by his words while Hiroshi remained silent and curious about what the younger man would say next.

Layla consulted her interview notes. 

"Which brings me to my next question: Is there a special lady in your life?"

Gabriel grinned widely. "Yeah, you could say that."

Grace felt a sense of satisfaction when she saw Layla and the female audience members struggle and fail to hide their disappointment.

The hostess continued. "And does she know what a prize she's landed?"

Gabriel blushed nervously. 

"Actually, she doesn't want anything to do with me at the moment."

Shouts of "Oh my God," and "What on earth?" came from the crowd, and Grace wanted the sofa cushions to open wide and swallow her up. 

Layla's attitude instantly changed from disappointment to shocked disbelief.

"Are you serious? I find it very hard to believe that any woman could resist you!"

Gabriel laughed before looking straight into the camera again. 

"You're very kind. Her reaction is natural and just, believe me, but I hope that this won't go on for much longer. She is the most brilliant woman I've ever known, and I love her very much. I've got all my cards on the table, and it's up to her to decide where to go with this. She has complete control, and I am at her feet."

The entire studio was silent; all the women were hypnotized by his words. Finally, the hostess stirred out of the trance and saw the signal that an angry cameraman had been trying to give her from behind the scenes.

"Oh! It's time for the break. Gabriel, thank you very much for being with us today."

Gabriel grinned. "It was my pleasure. Thank you for having me."

A lone woman shouted from the audience, "I wouldn't mind having you, sugar!"

He blushed hard, wanting nothing more than to get out of there.

Layla turned to address the camera. "We have just spoken with Gabriel Knight, the author of 'Sacred Blood,' the third and final novel of the Blake Backlash Trilogy which is just flying off the shelves. Available in bookstores everywhere."

A commercial for drain cleaner came on, and Grace fumbled to switch off the television. She stared at the blank screen, dreading what she had to do when she saw Gabriel later that afternoon. She turned to her father. "What time is it?"

Hiroshi glanced at his watch. "It's 7:50."

She let out a small cry as she leaped off the couch. "Jesus! I'm going to be late!"

He watched as his daughter hurried to put on her coat and grab her purse.

"What's this meeting about, again?"

Grace hated lying to her father, but she didn't want him to know where she was really going. "It's about that upcoming exhibit at the Guggenheim that I mentioned."

Hiroshi followed her to the door. 

"Don't worry about the boy. Do what you have to do."

She adjusted a scarf around her neck, and met his eyes in the mirror.

"I don't know when I'll be back."

He opened the door for her. "Take your time. See you later."

She kissed him on the cheek before leaving, and when Hiroshi moved to close the door he saw Rafe standing nearby, wiping away tears. Oh, damn.

He closed and locked the door before walking to the little boy.

"How much did you hear, sport?"

Rafe's tiny chest moved up and down with his heaving breaths.

"Everything, and I saw him on TV as well. He's exactly like he was in my dreams."

Hiroshi moved to pick him up, and Rafe continued talking.

"He loves her, Grandpa, but she's scared. I wish that there was something I could do to make Mom feel better, but I can't. Like he said, it's her decision."

* * *

Dr. Neil Weissman, Neurologist

Grace sat across the desk from the young doctor, clutching a medical pamphlet in her hands as she looked around at the office walls. She saw detailed posters which featured various illustrations of brains, both healthy and blighted by disease, and for the first time she wondered which category hers belonged to. 

Dr. Weissman brought her attention back to him by clearing his throat, and she estimated that he was only a few years older than herself. His brown eyes were kind as they met hers, and he looked again at his notes before he spoke.

"So, Mrs. Anami, you said before that your mother recently died of brain cancer, and you suspect that you may have inherited a similar condition?"

She sighed. "Yes, I do. I've been feeling very strange for the past month, and I can't shake off the feeling that the cause may be physical rather than psychological."

The doctor leaned forward in his chair. "Why would you think it was psychological? Have you been under a great deal of stress lately?"

Grace scoffed. "You have no idea."

He opened a desk drawer and retrieved a clipboard and pen. "Okay, let's discuss your symptoms. Have you experienced bouts of vomiting, particularly in the morning?"




Dark Impulse Ch. 22



She nodded. "Yes, for over a week now."

He made a check mark on the paper. "Migraines?"

"Every day for over a month, very strong."

Another check. "Vision problems? Loss of balance? Shortness of breath?"

"I had a hallucination along with trouble breathing and collapsed this past Saturday in Central Park, and I had another episode yesterday afternoon."

Three checks were added to the questionnaire. "What happened yesterday, exactly?"

Grace took a deep breath. "I was at a pay phone, and I was about to make a call when the numbers blurred and shifted around. It was very frightening."

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Uncontrollable shaking of the hands or feet?"

"My hands shook a couple of times, yes."

Another check. Dr. Weissman observed the slight hollowing of her cheeks. 

"Loss of appetite?"

She met his eyes. "I ate this morning, but there have been long stretches of time when I couldn't keep any food down, and I had no desire to eat."

He looked concerned. "How long has this been going on?"

She shrugged. "Two weeks, maybe three."

The doctor added another mark. "I see. What about mental symptoms? Have you had any difficulty concentrating on your daily tasks, at work or at home?"

"Yes, there were times when I found myself trailing off during a conversation, or staring off into space when I was supposed to be working."

Another check mark, bringing the total to eight. "For how long?"

"As far as I know, only a week."

He was growing more worried by the moment; the red marks seemed to give off an unholy glow against the whiteness of the paper. He carefully kept the questionnaire out of Grace's line of vision; he didn't want to scare her before he ran the tests.

"Have you experienced mood swings? Confusion? Disorientation?"

Grace exploded into laughter at the serious question, and long moments passed while she was unable to stop. Tears streamed freely from her eyes as she held onto the edge of the desk, preventing herself from sliding out of her chair and onto the floor. Finally, she grew sober and reached for a tissue. "All the time."

"Personality changes?"

The look she gave him was heartbreaking. "I don't know who I am anymore."

Dr. Weissman stared in shock at the finished paper, where twelve check marks indicated that she had all the symptoms that required further testing for abnormalities.

"Grace, I need you to come with me."

* * *

Somewhere over the Atlantic

Cursing under his breath, David pressed the button to disconnect the call that he'd made from his private jet. He had called the penthouse to ask for Grace when the maid informed him that his wife and son had moved out to an unknown location. After that he had tried to call her cellular, but it was switched off.

He leaned back in his seat, his stone-gray eyes staring out of the window.

Where could they have gone?

Sitting across from him was Liam, who under the pretense of sleep secretly watched David from beneath lowered lashes. He gave a false mumble as he turned over and clutched his blanket closer, hiding his smile.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Grace finished dressing and waited for the doctor to return with the results of the MRI and the EEG tests. She shuddered as she remembered the feeling of claustrophobia when she had laid motionless inside the machine as it photographed every square millimeter of her head, and when her scalp was hooked up to all kinds of wires that read her brain activity. If she lived to be a hundred, she never wanted to have to go through that again.

It wasn't until a few minutes later that she realized that wouldn't be the case. 

She saw it on the doctor's face as he entered his office to speak with her. She knew that something was wrong. Gathering up all her courage, she spoke.

"So, what's the verdict?"

Dr. Weissman looked grave as he closed the door behind him and sat down.

"My team and I, we found something."

He was hesitant to continue, but Grace needed to hear what he had to say.

"Doctor, whatever it is, please tell me. I'm strong, I can take it."

He exhaled sharply, and his eyes were sad as they met hers. 

"It's a tumor, and it's a very mean son of a bitch."

The last support beams that kept her world from crashing down snapped, and Grace felt helpless as she tried to keep calm and dig herself out the rubble.

She felt as if she was on autopilot when she began a series of rapid-fire questions.

"Where is it? How long has it been there? What caused it? How big is it?"

The doctor sighed. "The tumor originated in the cerebellum, which is located at the rear bottom part of the brain and regulates sensory perception and motor skills, but it is now encroaching on the other areas of the brain and causing the symptoms that you're now experiencing."

Grace blinked at him, at a loss. Weissman leaned forward.

"I mean that the tumor has grown so that it's squashing the rest of your brain. There's only so much room in the skull, and that's why you've been so sick lately."

She regretted what she said earlier about being strong; she didn't feel that way at all. She bit the inside of her cheek, afraid to ask about the size of the tumor.

Her voice was hoarse as she repeated her earlier question. 

"What caused it?"

The doctor reviewed his notes. 

"Heredity is obviously a chief factor, considering that your mother suffered the same condition. But you... you're so young. It's extremely rare for a case like yours to happen to anyone under 50. Can you think back a while, try to pinpoint something that could have influenced the growth rate? Perhaps you were previously ill with something that affected your nervous system?"

She closed her eyes and recalled walking along the mountain path one day in Darjeeling, the sultry heat and humidity that made the air so thick that it hurt to breathe. She remembered the painful sting on her arm, and the resulting fire that had streaked through her veins and seemed to burn away her very soul.

She opened her eyes and focused on the doctor. 

"I was bitten by an infected mosquito almost six years ago on a trip to India, and I contracted acute encephalitis. I was told it was a miracle that I survived."

Weissman nodded grimly. "And now it's come back to haunt you."

Grace smiled bitterly. "Apparently so."

He left his seat behind the desk and sat beside her in one of the visitor chairs. He took her hands and squeezed them with his own. She was moved by his compassion.

He spoke softly. "I estimate that the tumor got its start from what happened in India, and it has been growing ever since. Grace, it's now the size of a baseball. There's no need for me to do a biopsy to make sure; it's pretty self-explanatory."

There was no other way but to just come out and say it, and he did.

"The tumor is malignant, and it's way too advanced to risk surgery. If I try to remove it, you will die. It's a tricky bastard, Glioblastoma multiforme, which in some cases, like yours, doesn't produce any symptoms until it's already too late..."

She held up a hand to stop him. "So either way, I'm dead."

Weissman covered her hand with his. "I'm so sorry."

Despite the seriousness of the news, she felt a strange calm settle over her.

"How much time do I have?"

"If we had found the tumor at the earliest time, when it was just beginning to form, the survival rate would have been at least five years. But considering its size..."

Grace grit her teeth in frustration. "Just come out and say it!"

"Two weeks."

She felt cold all over; everything else that the doctor said after that had no effect on her whatsoever. Her mind distant, she thanked him for his time and left the office, barely remembering to place one foot in front of the other. 

Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God Oh my God...

She reached the open street and wrapped her coat around her shivering body as she waited for a cab, her thoughts in turmoil and her soul aching with grief.

I am going to die. What will become of my father? Of Rafe? Gabriel.

She nodded to herself as she hailed a taxi to take her to the Manhattan Bank to meet Mosely. She knew what she had to do. In light of what she had just learned, every argument that she had made with herself to keep Gabriel in the dark about their son evaporated like smoke. He had a right to know, and so did Rafe. Now that her time was limited, they would need each other. 

She climbed inside and closed the door, staring sightlessly out of the cab window. 

But I won't tell any of them that I'm sick. I will use the time that I have left to make sure that Rafe will have someone to provide for him and love him when I'm gone. Gabriel Knight, his father, will do everything he can to protect him from harm.

Satisfied with her decision, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.



Dark Impulse Ch. 23



The Manhattan Bank

Grace arrived at the bank on time and saw Mosely waiting in the foyer. He saw her approach and stood up, torn between the happiness of seeing her again and worry concerning her being caught in the middle between the business with her husband and that with Gabriel. 

She smiled warmly at him. "Hello, Mose. Long time, no - oh!"

He cut her off by grabbing her and pulling her to him in a fierce hug, not caring that some of the bank's patrons had stopped to look at them. He fought back tears as he felt the slight jutting of her ribs against him, remembered the paleness of her skin when he saw her step out of the taxi. She wasn't bearing up well at all.

Her voice was muffled against his chest. "Mose? A girl's got to breathe sometime."

He reluctantly let go, managing an apologetic smile. 

"Sorry. I guess I got carried away."

She laughed softly, beaming at him. "You're forgiven. So how have you been?"

"I can't complain. I've been slowly working my way up the food chain at the Agency."

Grace raised an eyebrow. "What about personally? Have you been seeing anyone?"

Mosely looked at her for a long moment. No one as wonderful as you.

He shrugged. "Not really. I've been too busy with my career to go out with more than a few women. Anyway, enough about me. How are you these days?"

Her expression was serene, her smile genuine. 

"You know, I've been through the emotional wringer with everything that's happened, but now I feel that it's all going to work out for the best. Sometimes, when a person hits rock bottom, there's no other alternative but to climb up."

He smiled back. "That's a beautiful philosophy, Grace. Very optimistic."

She nodded and spoke softly, looking up at him with shining eyes. 

"I realize now that we won't live forever, Mose. Whatever grudges or disagreements a person has deep inside, none of them matter worth a damn compared to what's really important: family and friends. Love is everything."

Mosely sighed. "Listen, Grace. About yesterday..."

She shook her head, smiling at him. 

"You were absolutely right, but I was too pigheaded to listen. But now I'm willing to do the right thing and tell Gabriel the truth. I owe him that."

He ran a hand over his short hair. "And will you forgive him?"

"Yes. I'm tired of being angry. It's time to let go of the past."

He smiled widely as he reached for her, embracing her again. 

"I'm glad for that. So what do you say we go take care of business before that blue-haired lady over there's jaw drops any more?"

Grace laughed and lightly thumped his chest with her hand.

"Yeah, let's get it over with."

The Vault

A clerk led them down the winding flight of stairs to the bank's vault, where a rather severe-looking security guard stood watch beside the heavy steel door. As soon as he saw Grace, he gave a huge goofy grin.

"Good morning, Dr. Nakimura."

She smiled in response. "Morning, Steve. How are Jess and the baby?"

He smiled wider as he opened the door. "They're fine, thanks."

"Glad to hear it."

Removing her key from her purse, Grace stepped inside. With a nod to the guard, Mosely followed. They walked past several rows of safety deposit boxes until she stopped.

"Here we are."

He noted the box number: 1928. Curious, he turned to her.

"Any special significance?"

She placed her key in the lock, turning it. 

"It's the year that my grandfather was born."

He nodded. "How is old Yukio, by the way?"

She smiled as she opened the tiny door to remove the metal box.

"He lives in Hawaii, with all the sand and surf. How do you think he is?"

Mosely chuckled softly, helping her move the heavy box to the nearby table.

They sat down across the table from one another, with the box between them. Grace took a deep breath and unlocked it to reveal the bag of evidence, which sat on top of what had to be at least five million dollars in cash.

His eyes widened. "Jesus Christ! Are you planning to open your own bank?"

She looked up at him, her eyes serious. "It's for my son."

"How on earth did you come up with this?"

A saucy smile teased her mouth as she held his gaze.

"Let's just say that it's payment for services rendered."

He raised an eyebrow at that, and Grace shook her head.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Mose. I didn't mean that, but perhaps it ought to be included. Five years as the wife of David Anami, one of the brightest stars in the corporate world. It was the hardest job I ever had; even working at St. George's for minimum wage was better. At least there I was surrounded by books. Living in his world was suffocating. Always smiling for the cameras, attending those god-awful social gatherings where everyone except the hired help are phonies..."

She sighed. "It was all a charade from beginning to end."

Mosely watched her. "You'll be free soon. Just hang in there."

She looked down at the opened box, saying nothing.

That, my old friend, is the one thing that I can't do.

She carefully lifted the evidence bag out of the box, and held it out to him. When he reached out to take the other end, she briefly held on. She looked into his eyes. 

"I need you to tell me the truth. What will happen once I let go of this package?"

"Since the big league departments are no longer pursuing the investigation, I really shouldn't be here. It could cost me my job, but you sounded so lost on the phone yesterday... Grace, I want to take it off your hands. I'll take the shirt to an independent lab to see if there's anything incriminating there, and I'll run the print in the International crime database to see if Anami was involved in anything suspicious abroad. Specifically, I'm going to search for any criminal activity between 1971 and 1985."

Grace slowly let go of the plastic bag. The 14 lost years after Caitlin's death.

"What happens if you find something?"

His voice was determined. "When I find something, not if. Then I'll do everything that I can to get the case reopened and Anami brought into custody."

She watched as Mosely opened the briefcase that he'd brought and placed the evidence inside. The vault echoed with the sound of the clicking latches when he closed it. A moment later he glanced up at her, his whiskey-colored eyes intense.

"Are you and the boy going to be safe?"

She smiled, touched by his concern. "We're going to be fine, don't worry. We're staying in a place that David doesn't know about, and I've taken security measures."

He nodded, obviously still worried. "If there's anything that you need..."

She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "I won't hesitate to ask."

Together they left the vault and then the bank, returning to the real world. Mosely stared at her as if he was memorizing every detail of her face, his eyes haunted and his voice hoarse with emotion. "Gabriel is very lucky to have you."

Without a word, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed his cheek.

"You take care of yourself, Mose."

He grimaced slightly, fighting back tears. "You too."

Grace gave him a final smile before she turned away, walking toward the street. She hailed a cab and climbed inside, giving the driver directions to the bookstore where she was due to meet Gabriel. 

Sonnet Books

Grace arrived at 11:45 and saw no sign of Gabriel. Anxious, she decided to browse the shelves while she waited for him to show. She walked to the back of the store and entered the poetry section, unaware that she was being watched and followed.

She picked up a book that caught her eye. Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman. She began to read through "Song of Myself," and was drawn to Quatrain 28.

'Is this then a touch? Quivering me to a new identity, / Flames and ether making a rush for my veins, / Treacherous tip of me reaching and crowding to help them, / My flesh and blood playing out lightning to strike what is hardly different from myself...'

The sensuous prose reminded her of the erotic dream that she'd had the night before. She could almost feel Gabriel's touch on her waiting skin.

'You villain touch! What are you doing? My breath is tight in its throat, / Unclench your floodgates, you are too much for me.' 

She jumped as a pair of lips suddenly emerged from the darkness nearby. She felt hot breath caress her neck as she heard a familiar voice reading from Quatrain 29. 

"'Blind loving wrestling touch, sheath'd hooded sharp-tooth'd touch! / Did it make you ache so, leaving me?'"

Shocked and frightened, Grace forcibly slammed the book closed and whirled around to find herself face to face with Gabriel. His eyes glittered as he stepped out into the light, and she wanted to slap him and kiss him simultaneously.

He had changed clothes since his television appearance that morning. He wore a green polo shirt, jeans, a black leather jacket and black boots. He looked good enough to eat, and she had a hard time resisting the urge to do just that.

Instead, she frowned at him. "You scared me! That was a very evil thing to do."

Gabriel gave an embarrassed smile. 

"I'm sorry, Gracie. I got here first, and I just couldn't resist the idea."

She glared at him. "I just came from turning over the evidence to Mosely, so you'll forgive me if I'm not in a playful mood. He's going to have it analyzed right away."

He quickly sobered at the news. "They'd better reopen the case if he finds something. I still can't believe that all those top crime investigators took the bait like that."

Grace nervously ran her fingers through her hair. 

"Well, David can be very convincing when he wants to be."

His eyes narrowed. "Apparently. He managed to get you, didn't he?"

She scoffed angrily, returning his stare. 

"That's because I met him when I was particularly vulnerable, if you'll recall."

Gabriel winced and held a hand up. "That's enough, time out."

She took a deep breath, trying hard to calm down. He continued.

"I didn't come here to fight, Gracie. I can list several reasons why I wanted to see you again, but most importantly I needed to warn you."

She felt a tingling sensation in her spine at his words. "Tell me."

His green eyes betrayed his fear. His voice was low and rough as he spoke.

"I've been having dreams of you every night for the past week, and each one gets worse. I'm not sure how to explain this, but there is a dark force hovering over us."

Her anxiety intensified. "What do you mean by 'us'?"

"The three of us. You, me and the child. Something is out to get us, and whatever it is, it's tied to David Anami. We need to find out more about him."

He went on to tell her about the dreams in full detail. He told her about his finding her body frozen in the ice, the raven swarm and the horror of finding her dead in the clearing. He also told her about his vision of her working on his portrait in the studio, and of her collapse in Central Park. She remained silent the entire time.

"Gracie? Please, say something."

She looked at his beloved face, which had become even more beautiful with the passage of time. Grace stepped closer. "There's more that you want to say, isn't there? More than the warnings, I mean. I saw you on television this morning, you know, and I was very touched by what you said about Blake not realizing how he felt about Fuji until it was too late. I knew that you were saying it to me then, but I want to hear it again now, without the cover of fictional characters. I need to hear the words."

Gabriel raised a hand to touch her hair. "I have many regrets about that time."

"Tell me about them."

His lips parted as he took a breath. "Ever since you came to Germany to help me with that case so many years ago, and all the time we were living under the same roof at the castle, I was in love with you. I foolishly denied my feelings because I was afraid that because of what I do, of what I am, I would lose you the way I lost Malia. I didn't want anything to happen to you, and I didn't want to be hurt either. It was one of the worst mistakes I ever made, and I'm sorry."

"One of the worst? What else?"

He sighed deeply. "The way that I treated you after we made love in France. I had no right to disregard your feelings like that; it was a weak attempt on my part to regain some sort of balance in our relationship, to return things back to safer ground. Oh, Christ... I didn't realize until after you left that I didn't want to be safe where you were concerned. I wanted you so much that it scared me, and I just didn't know how to deal with it at the time. I screwed up, Grace."

She raised a hand to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

"Go on."

He wrapped his arms around her, leaning forward until their lips almost touched.

"My deepest regret is that I didn't run after you the minute I learned you had gone, and now you have someone else's ring on your finger where mine should be, and you have borne another man's child when he should have been mine."

At his heartfelt words, the emotional dam inside Grace broke. All of the love, anger and fear that she'd kept at bay for so long tore their way through the barriers and became an elemental force to be reckoned with, devastating her with its power.

Her eyes watered and her lips trembled with the effort not to blurt out the truth right then. Instead, she shouted the words in her mind. 

He's yours! He's yours, Gabriel.

Gabriel saw her tears and stroked her cheek tenderly. "Gracie..."

She knew that he intended to kiss her, and she made no attempt to stop it. She gasped softly as he covered his lips with hers, and she thought her heart would be crushed beneath the weight of her happiness from kissing him again. She moaned at the wonder of it, and she heard him groan in response. 

She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the sensations that enveloped her. His lips were soft, his tongue warm and his breath fresh. His teeth gently nipped at her lips, making them more sensitive to his oral caresses. He held her tightly against him, and she could feel her nipples tighten where her breasts pressed against his chest. She sucked lightly at his tongue, and she felt his penis twitch against her thigh. 

In a distant corner of her mind, she knew that she should break the kiss and tell him what he had to know. But a selfish part of her insisted that she enjoy the moment while it lasts, because she knew that afterwards he might despise her.

At least I got to kiss him again, and heard his words of love. At least I'll have this to help me through the rough times ahead, this memory of Gabriel.

Slowly, Grace ended the kiss. His eyes were full of love and passion as he stared down at her, and she hated the idea of hurting him. But it was inevitable.

Her voice shook as she spoke. 

"There's something very important that I have to tell you, Gabriel. Two things, actually. The first is this: I forgive you for hurting me. I've been thinking very hard these past few days, and I want to be free of all the anger that I've been carrying around inside all those years. I want us to have a clean slate."

Overwhelmed with relief, he grinned widely before kissing her again. 

"You got it."

She didn't smile back. Her jet-black eyes seemed to darken even further, and for a moment Gabriel could have sworn that one of them was larger than the other.

"Now it's up to you to forgive me for what I've done to you."

His smile faded. "What are you talking about, Gracie?"

Biting her lip, she looked down at the book that she still clutched in her hand. She quietly returned it to its place on the shelf and turned to Gabriel. She held out her hand to him, her eyes pleading for him to trust her.

"Please, come with me."

Much later, Gabriel would recall the following moments as if they had happened in slow motion. Grace's small hand in his, guiding him out of the bookstore and onto the street. The short cab ride to the studio that he had seen in his vision, and the shocking discovery that he would always remember with bittersweet joy.

He had a son.

* * *

The Strand

Grace opened the door and held it open for Gabriel to enter the apartment. She took off her jacket and hung it on the coat rack, motioning for him to do the same. He moved slowly, anxious about what was coming.

She heard the television, and together they walked into the living room. 

"Guys, I'm back. I've brought a guest with me. Gabriel, you've met my father."

Hiroshi rose from the couch and shook the younger man's outstretched hand, and Gabriel nodded to him. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Nakimura."

The older man's tone was cool as he replied. "Likewise."

Gabriel turned to her. "What's this all about, Gracie? Why all the secrecy?"

She looked at him before her eyes focused on something across the room. He followed her gaze and felt something like an electric shock as he stared into the eyes of the little boy who sat beside the large window. Next to him were several drawings, and as Gabriel drew closer he recognized himself in them.

Rafe stood up from his chair and smiled at him. "Hello, Mister."

He felt a burning sensation in his chest as he replied. "Hey, kid."

Grace began to cry as Rafe approached Gabriel and opened his arms. He didn't hesitate to kneel down and bring his son to him, holding him tightly. 

Hiroshi looked on in approval, satisfied at last. The younger man's reaction was the proof he had needed that Gabriel truly hadn't known until then that he was the child's father. He'd thought that Gabriel knew but hadn't cared; he'd been wrong.

The warm family moment was shattered when a bird crashed through the window, breaking its neck and frightening everyone in the room in the process. The broken shards of glass fell like rain about the room, and Gabriel reacted swiftly by covering Rafe with his own body to protect him from getting hurt. He felt the sharp pieces sliding over his back, cutting him through the fabric of his shirt, but he didn't care. His paternal instinct, which was brand-new, demanded everything that he had to make sure his son was safe.

When it was over, he gingerly lifted himself off of Rafe. "Are you all right?"

The little boy gasped, his eyes swimming with tears as he saw the dead bird.

"Yes, I'm fine."

Gabriel looked up to see Grace running towards the kitchen to get a plastic bag to clean up the mess. Hiroshi brushed off a few stray bits of glass off his clothes as he stood up from behind the couch, where he had taken cover.

A scary idea came into his mind just then, and he turned to glance at the bird, hoping to God that it wasn't a raven. He released a sigh of relief; it was just a pigeon.

Then he heard the child's sobs and was alarmed to see him crawling on his hands and knees towards the broken bird, not concerned with the glass that covered the floor. 

Gabriel's voice was stern as he addressed the child. "Raphael..." 




Rafe had reached the dead animal, and began to reach out his hand. The tears flowed freely as he spoke to his father, creating tracks in the face paint that he wore.

The look he gave Gabriel was a plea from one gifted person to another.

"Please, don't stop me. I must do this." 

After a long moment, he nodded his permission. Rafe gently touched the bird's twisted neck, and Gabriel saw a faint glow where flesh touched feathers.

Grace, after searching the entire kitchen for a garbage bag, found one and came rushing back into the room just in time to watch the bird awaken and fly away. 

Stunned, she saw Gabriel sitting on the floor beside Rafe, staring at his face.

He reached into his pocket and retrieved a handkerchief, finally understanding why the boy's face had always seemed so unhealthy and pale. It was make-up. 




Dark Impulse Ch. 23



He carefully wiped away all traces of the paint from Rafe's skin, and released a shuddering breath as he saw what Grace had tried so hard to hide from the outside world. The boy had freckles, which was a dead giveaway of his mixed parentage. 

Behind them, she lifted a hand to cover her mouth. 

This is what Mosely must have seen in Central Park. That's how he knew.

Gabriel's hand tightened on the cloth that he held between his fingers, his earlier rapture almost overtaken by the feelings of betrayal and white-hot anger that surged through him at Grace's deception. Not just for himself, but also for Rafe. 

Knowing full well that she was pregnant with my son, she married another man and raised the child to believe that Anami the bastard was his real father while she never told me anything. As if that wasn't enough, she forced him to wear this all-concealing shit on his face so no one would guess that his father is white.

He trembled from the force of his emotions, and he knew that he had to get out of there before he said or did something he would regret later.

He turned to Rafe and took him in his arms, rocking him gently.

His voice trembled. "I have to go now, son. It has nothing to do with you, okay? I just need to be alone for a while, to think things through."

The boy nodded solemnly. "I understand."

Gabriel slowly rose from the floor, and turned to find Grace staring at him. He walked up to her, his eyes fierce and predatory. They were also filled with a tortured sadness, so deep and vast that she wanted to weep as she met his gaze.

"I guess we're even now. I broke your heart, and in return you've broken mine."

He turned on his heel and left the apartment without another word.

* * *

As Gabriel was preparing to return to his loft to brood in peace, he saw a black stretch limousine pull up to the curb in front of his apartment building. The door opened and Liam stepped out, smiling brightly when he saw him.

"Hello, my friend! Have you been keeping busy while I was away?"

Gabriel smiled cautiously, convinced that he shouldn't talk too much around the blond Irishman. He was too close to Anami, so he couldn't be trusted.

"I've been around. I heard about what happened in London. Is everything okay now?"

Liam grew serious. "Yes. David was released from the hospital this morning - London time, I mean - and we arrived here just an hour ago."

Gabriel nodded. "I see. Where is he now? Is he resting comfortably at home?"

Liam snickered. "Heavens no! He's at the office! He's a born workaholic. That's actually why I'm here; I've come to fetch you for a meeting that's long overdue. He wants to meet with you to discuss the case."

Gabriel was intrigued. "Will I finally get some answers, then?"

Another smile played on Liam's lips as he held open the door for Gabriel to enter. 

"That's for him to decide. Hop in."

Anami Enterprises

Gabriel's emotions were still running high as he was escorted by Liam to Anami's office on the 60th floor, so much so that he couldn't stop the hissing of the poisonous serpent inside his head which whispered words of jealousy and hate. 

When the large double doors opened and he saw his enemy in the flesh, the snake tightened its lethal coils around his heart. As Liam made the introductions, he stared at the powerful man before him, consumed with the desire to tear out his throat.

This is the sneaky son of a bitch who stole my woman, raised my child.

Gabriel shook hands with him, and it was a struggle to keep his tone neutral.

"Mr. Anami, it's good to finally meet you."

David smiled. "Same here. Prince James speaks very highly of you. Please, sit."

The two men sat while Liam stood by the large office window, silently observing.

Gabriel cleared his throat. "So, how does it feel to laugh in the face of death?"

David tilted his head, regarding him curiously.

"A very interesting choice of words, Mr. Knight. What do you mean by that, exactly?"

He decided to play his trusty "Dumb Southern Boy" card, a technique that never failed. When he used it on his suspects in the past, they always let their guard down and underestimated him, allowing him to slip undetected beneath the surface. When the time was right, Gabriel took them by surprise when he revealed their tangled web of lies, showing them what a smart cookie he really was, as well as getting the occasional confession.

He spoke slowly, letting his accent run thick like molasses.

"I meant that it must have been very exhilarating to defeat so many men who wanted to harm you, perform such a daring escape and live to tell the tale."

David stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"It was quite the opposite, actually. I was terrified, and I never want to go through anything like that again. I'm glad it's over so I can hopefully return to life as usual."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Hopefully? Why shouldn't you?"

Anami didn't answer. Gabriel continued his probing, unfazed by the silence.

"You must have been relieved when you were cleared by the interesting batch of evidence that was given to the authorities at Scotland Yard."

At his words, David placed his hands together and peered at Gabriel over the triangle that they formed. His beautiful mouth carried a hint of a smile, and the Schattenjäger couldn't tell if Anami was angry or amused. He had the perfect poker face.

"Why do you call it interesting, Mr. Knight?"

Gabriel leaned forward in his chair, spearing his eyes with his own.

"The entire situation is interesting, when you think about it. You disappeared for just over 24 hours, you returned in relatively good condition with a full explanation in tow, and then the evidence was so meticulous and thorough... nice."

David laughed heartily, his eyes shining like polished silver. 

"You are a very shrewd man, Knight. It's a shame we won't be working together after all. That's the reason I sent for you; I've decided to call off the case."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed. He hadn't expected to be dismissed before he'd even begun.

"May I ask why?"

David shrugged nonchalantly. "Let's just say that there's been a change of plan. I'm very sorry to have inconvenienced you by dragging you to New York for nothing, but please feel free to spend a few more days here at my expense. Do whatever you like, and when you're ready to leave, just let Liam know and he'll arrange for one of the private jets to take you wherever you wish."

He reached into his suit jacket and produced two invitations, placing them on the desk. "I would be honored if you came to the masquerade ball I'm throwing at the Guggenheim tomorrow evening. Bring a friend if you like. It's to raise money for cancer research, so it's a very important event. Everyone is going to be there."

"Your wife?" 

The words escaped from Gabriel's lips before he could stop them, and he felt a measure of satisfaction when Anami's eyes darkened. He wanted to bait him, let him know at least subconsciously that he had a claim to his wife, his son.

David cleared his throat in an attempt to mask his discomfort. 

"I imagine she will be in attendance, yes."

Gabriel smiled wolfishly as he pocketed the invitations. 

"Good. Thank you very much for your generosity, Mr. Anami. However, there are a few things that we need to discuss before our business is concluded."

The older man ran his fingers through his hair, which had visibly grayed since Gabriel saw him on television the first time, over a week before. 

Was it because of his ordeal in London, or the stress of beating a murder wrap?

David's clipped British accent returned Gabriel's attention to the man himself.

"Fire away, Mr. Knight."

"Will I still be paid the agreed amount, even though the case has been called off?"

Anami nodded to Liam, and he briefly left the room. He returned with a black suitcase, opening it to reveal twenty thousand dollars in cash. His expression blank, Liam closed the case and handed it to Gabriel.

He nodded to David. "Thank you."

David nodded in response. "Of course, you can also keep the laptop that we gave you, as well as the clothes and tuxedo that we provided you with."

"Again, thank you."

Anami appeared bored as he asked, "What else did you want to talk about?"

Gabriel glanced at the gold signet ring on David's right hand.

"That's a very nice ring you've got there. Is that a raven?"

David looked at his hand. "Yes, it is. Would you mind getting to the point, please? I'm a very busy man, and I have a lot of catching up to do because of London."

Gabriel flushed, secretly glad that he'd managed to rattle Anami's cage. 

Maybe if he gets angry enough, he'll let something revealing slip. I'd be more than happy to make that happen, to catch this smug bastard in a lie.

His emerald eyes glistened. "Aren't you the least bit curious as to what I've been doing all these days alone while you were away?"

David sighed deeply in frustration. "No, Knight. What have you been doing?"

Seducing your wife, learning the truth about who your little boy really belongs to.

"Research, and a lot of it. I admit that it was very difficult at first, since I'd been given so little to go on, but then I learned some interesting facts about possession, ravens, Celtic lore, and about yourself as well."

Anami leaned forward. "Really? I'm eager to hear about what you have found."

Gabriel made a show of preparing to speak and then backing down.

"Perhaps I shouldn't now that I'm off the case. I'll just leave you to your work."

David grinned, admiring the younger man's tenacity and spirit. 

"You just don't give up, do you? Tell me what you know."

Gabriel stared at him, his face blank and his eyes cold as ice.

"I know that you are a follower of the Morrigan. I know what happened during your childhood, with the deaths of your parents. The loss of your first wife and baby. I can't imagine what it must have been like for you to experience such pain."

David stared back at Gabriel, all traces of mirth gone from his face.

"No you cannot, and I hope that you never shall. But concerning that other matter, I have no idea what you are talking about. I have never heard of such a thing."

Gabriel stood up and took the briefcase, slowly backing out of the office.

"I agree with what you said earlier, Anami. It is a shame that we won't be working together. I really wanted to help you when this whole thing started, but I must admit that my priorities have shifted in a big way since then. So much that I wouldn't have been able to perform at my normal capacity in any case."

He sighed and gave David an intense look that betrayed all his feelings of hostility.

"Now that I'm out of a job, I guess that I'll have to find something else to investigate. I've never been very good at knowing when to stop. Good afternoon, gentlemen."

Gabriel left the office, and after a moment David pressed a button on the phone beside him to call his personal security team. "Hello?"

"Jones, Anami here. Put a tail on Gabriel Knight. I want to know where he goes, everything he does and everyone he meets with. No exceptions. Report back to me."

He disconnected the call and sat back in his plush chair to ponder his next move, while Liam's dark blue eyes remained on the door through which Gabriel left.