Dust

XIII

After training for the day is done, Damien, Gael, and Finn all disperse in different directions. I'm desperately in need of a refreshment, my tongue dryer than parchment and my stomach rumbling.

Mother's out working at her clinic today, so I have no one to spontaneously bake for me. I rummage in the fridge before locating a turkey wrap and some bottled water, setting those down on the counter. I locate Damien's backpack leaned against the island, and rummage through that, too, producing a bottle of blood (labeled cow on the side). Then, taking my goods, I go in search of him.

I don't have to search very far, for I see him on the floor of my living room. He is curled over his knees like a roly-poly bug, his head ducked into his hands, causing black hair to spill over his fingers like ink. Startled, I approach him, folding my own legs and taking a seat on the rug before him. I set his blood down in front of him, but he doesn't look up.

"Is there a reason you're sitting on the floor, Dame?" I ask, removing the saran wrap from my turkey wrap. "There's a couch and tons of chairs around you..."

Damien removes his hand from his face, catching sight of the blood I have brought him and snatching it up. "I'm pondering," he tells me, his fangs unsheathing to pry the top off of the bottle. "I'm trying to think about what to do about this Jeremiah dude—daylights. Help me out?"

I chuckle; Damien, with his expert bottle-opening skills, has punctured the top of the bottle cap, getting it stuck on his fang. He keeps biting down, trying to remove it, but it won't budge. I reach out, feeling him cringe as I tug the cap off and toss it aside for later disposal. "Cheers," I say, bumping my bottle of water against his bottle of animal blood.

Both of us down a swig of our drinks. "Well, what about Jeremiah?" I ask.

Damien swallows, wiping at his mouth, which only smears the blood further across his cheek. He doesn't seem to care. "I'm thinking...about this whole forest thing. Maybe Gael shouldn't go."

This catches me off guard. "If he doesn't, there's no chance of him becoming a hunter—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but you have to think, Gemma—you said Elliott's involved with Jeremiah. What if Jeremiah's lying?"

"Just because he might be—might be—running some sort of illegal business, Damien, does not mean everything that comes out of his mouth is a lie," I say, trying to be reasonable. I take a bite of my wrap. "If he is doing something he's not supposed to, then he would probably keep it out of his line of work, considering he works for the police."

"Gemma." Damien's voice is chilly, his eyes blazing when I look up at him. "Maybe he had to worry about that before, but he doesn't anymore. Elliott's leading the Bureau right now. Elliott. His colleague."

I freeze in realization. "Oh, God. Damien..."

"Jeremiah wanted someone he knew in power, and Elliott was tired of being secretary. That's why Sloane's father was killed, Gemma...now Jeremiah can do whatever the hell he wants, since Elliott has his back," Dame explains. He sets his drink down and sighs, rubbing his eyes. "This is not good. This is so not good."

"We don't even know what Jeremiah is doing, Damien. Calm down—"

"There's already been one casualty, Gemma. That's enough to tell me that whatever Jeremiah is on to, it's nothing good," Damien says. "And now he wants Gael."

"Gael?" I stop, setting my turkey wrap down. "What do you mean he wants Gael?"

"Sloane didn't send Jeremiah earlier," Damien says. He stands up abruptly, beginning to pace back and forth. I move our food items out of the way of his path to prevent a mess. "I know it. It's not like her to do that; you and I both know that if she was worried she would talk to us directly. There's no test. Jeremiah wants Gael in the forest so he can kill him, Gemma. I—" He cuts off, taking a seat in front of me again. His angular eyes have widened. "Stake me, Gemma—he knows Gael's human."

"Dame," I snap, grabbing up his hands. I'm not sure if I believe him; a part of me wants to, but a larger part of me wants to believe he's just being kooky. "There's no way he can know—"

"Why else would he want Gael dead?"

"We don't know he wants Gael dead."

"Yes, we do. He came to your house, examined Gael like he was in a test tube, and ordered him to come to a forest at night. The only time you do that is when you want someone dead," Damien tells me. He tightens his grip on my hands, his gaze pleading. "I know you care about him, Gemma, and I know that's why you don't want to believe me. But...not everyone is as accepting as you are, as I begrudgingly am. Jeremiah recognized that Gael is human, and he wants to eliminate him for it."

He's right: I don't want to believe any of the things he's saying, if it means that Gael is in danger and Elliott murdered his own father for his own selfish benefit. I don't want that for Gael, don't want that for Sloane. I do, however, have to accept that the world I know is not all that pretty; it is filled with ugly people who do ugly things, and sometimes the one thing you can do to protect who you care about is to accept that. So I squeeze Damien's fingers in my own, nodding. "I believe you, Damien. I do."

"So you agree, then?" Damien asks me, searching my face with concern. "That Gael should blow Jeremiah off?"

I stare down at our entwined fingers, the stark white of his skin against the deep chestnut of my own. So many times I have looked down and seen his hand in mine; Damien is always there for me, often right, but also...he often does not know what to do with his rightness. "No. I think he should go."

"Gemma! Jeremiah's going to kill him! He's a freaking shapeshifter. He could change into a lion and take poor Gael down like he's a zebra—"

"First of all, since when have you cared about 'the human' this much? And, second, Jeremiah's not going to kill him."

Damien's eyes narrow. "You just said you believed me, and now you're contradicting me again. Please make a decision. Gemma—Gael will be going out there, alone, just to be slaughtered. It's not fair to him."

I pull my hands from Damien's, folding my arms and giving a smug smile. "Who said anything about him going alone?"