Aine Crabtree - The Thief

The surface wavered, but then reverted to normal reflection. Access denied.

“What did you do to it?” I snapped at him.

“Insurance,” he said, licking his lips nervously. “It only works for me now. If you kill me, that mirror is useless.”

“You really think,” I said, advancing on him, “that I value this object so highly that I would drag your miserable hide around with it?”

He swallowed.

I smiled, and tucked the mirror back into my jacket. “You had better hope that it remains valuable.” I grabbed Simon’s wrist and said, “ Proxima. ” His glass shards sliced lines across my face and forearm but they were little more than annoyances. My skin knit back together before blood could even ooze out.

Simon jerked as a thorny green design wrapped around his skin. “You chained me?” he exclaimed.

“To me,” I affirmed. “As if I trust you to follow me around otherwise. You have a leeway of a mile. Don’t make me shorten it. Now come on, we’re leaving town before the cavalry arrives.”

An odd feeling of wrongness overtook me for a brief moment, the ragged edges of the hole in my memory rubbing raw. I recalled the primary side effect of returning from a body switch. Something was missing in my head, something I’d left behind when I left Gohei’s form. I’d known this would happen, that I would be giving up part of myself, but I had no idea what that part was.

Camille

The forest swallows me whole, and I welcome it. Had I thought of this place as alien? No. This is home. My vision adjusts to the darkness, and my hearing sharpens. Everything would be perfect, if I could only smell him.

I skid to a halt in a small clearing, frustration getting the better of me.

“Coward!” I yell at the trees. “Show yourself!”

I hear only the wind in the boughs and the blood in my own veins. The silence is too much. I wrench a thick branch off of a nearby tree and hurl it away. Still dissatisfied, I wrap my arms around the tree trunk and twist. With a loud crack, it comes apart, crashing to the forest floor. A distant part of me registers the action as being far off the scale of my abilities, but right now I’m only angry that it wasn’t him I twisted in half.

“You miss me that much?” He materializes out of dark whorls among the fallen branches, grin first like the Cheshire Cat. “I ran a quick errand.” Sakamoto holds up a sword. It seems to fold in on itself, curling into an object that he tosses in the air. I’d know that iron cylinder anywhere. My right hand reflexively scratches at my left forearm. The blood that Gabriel had reforged it to siphon off pumps fast through my veins.

“I changed my mind,” he says, in answer to a question I hadn’t asked. “You’re no fun like this. Your brain is completely gone. This isn’t even going to be hard.”

I won’t let him distract me. “Who?” I roar. “Who killed her?!” I lunge at him, and this time he stays solid, twisting in my grip to bear me down to the ground. The wind goes out of me as I hit the earth. Body pressed along mine, he snaps the bracer over my arm, the internal lock sounding with a loud metal click. Immediately I feel pricks in my skin, and I shriek, feeling my power draining away. Furious, I throw Sakamoto so hard he flies through the air. Just before he ought to splatter against a tree, he disperses, reforming to stand at my feet.

The bracer is hungry, eating me alive. I’m breathing hard, sweat running down my face. The bright red clarity drains away, leaving me hollow. Dizziness overwhelms me as I lay back. I mutter a curse at Sakamoto in Japanese and see him smirk before I pass out on the forest floor.

“Mac, Destin, I found her!” Tailor called, sounding both close and far away.

Camille’s eyes fluttered open. Her limbs felt dull and limp, and her throat was dry. The air was bright around her, but it was the bright yellow blaze of the cafe. Somehow she was back, lying in the grass at the edge of the parking lot.

Tailor knelt at her side, checking her for injuries. “You have the bracer back?” he noticed. “When did you get that?”

Camille groaned, not even having enough energy to form an explanation. Mac and Destin came out from the treeline to stand over her too. So they’d been looking for her. The idiots, she could have killed them. She’d almost attacked Hayley. And Jul was...

Tears leaked out the side of her eyes. Sakamoto had to be lying. He just had to be. He had been trying to get a reaction from her, that’s all he ever did.

“What happened?” Mac exclaimed.

“I just found her here,” Tailor said. “I think she’s okay - ”

“Then why is she crying?” Mac demanded, kneeling on her other side. “Hey, you’re alright, right? Come on, gold ranger, you’re fine, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Camille croaked. He really wasn’t so bad for a loudmouth shrimp.

He sat back in relief. “I knew you weren’t Hulking out on us.”

Except she had been. If Sakamoto hadn’t replaced the bracer...

“Oh, this is unfortunate,” said an unfamiliar voice. “I’m going to have to start over completely from scratch.”

Summoning all her energy to turn her head, Camille saw a strange man standing on the edge of the forest, not far from them, looking up at the burning cafe. He had long, tangled green hair and threadbare, outdated clothing. His expression was petulant as he looked at them.

“Well, John, how did you talk Meredith into burning my cafe?”

His cafe?

Tailor voiced her question. “Who the hell are you?” he said, standing to face the man.

“I’m exactly who you always thought I was,” he grinned, a smirk that Camille recognized from the paintings Jul had revealed. The third immortal.

“I’ve gotten used to you calling me Gabriel, so you can keep that up if you like,” he said, “but now that I have my real body back you may as well know that I also answer to Hemlock. Or the Thief. Hmm,” he considered, tapping a finger against his chin. “Gabriel Hemlock. I like the sound of that.”

Camille’s mind whirled. No. No, it couldn’t be. It was his expression, his stance, his cadence, but the form was all wrong. The narrow face, the wide cruel mouth, the glittering green eyes. He had the sort of beauty that was harsh enough to cut yourself on. He was not Gabriel.

Tailor’s eyes were wide and disbelieving. “A body switch? You mean you were hiding in that form for - ”

“Nineteen oh six,” the green haired man said lightly, “was the last time I was fully myself. It’s been a rough century, I’ve got to tell you.” He stretched his long limbs. “And I’ve got your Juliet to thank for fixing me. Ah, that’s right, I should tell you - Simon went and ran her through with that infernal sword of yours.”

Everyone reacted.

“An utter waste, I agree,” the man claiming to be Gabriel said, “but what’s done is done. I thought I’d left something here...” his face twisted in confusion, “but whatever it was, no doubt it’s burnt up in the fire. Ah well. Good news for you, John, you won’t be seeing me for some time. I’ve got so much work to do. I’ll let you get back to,” he looked at Camille curiously, “the blonde girl.” There wasn’t even a hint of recognition on his face.

That proved it. It wasn’t Gabriel.

“Give my best to Charlotte,” he said, waving as he disappeared into the trees, without a look back. She wanted to get up and follow, yell at this stranger, demand answers, but her body would not respond.

It wasn’t Gabriel.

Tailor’s cellphone was in his hand and he was dialing. “Bea?” he said into it. “Bea, did you get home? Tell me - ” He was silent for several moments, expression going distant as he listened. “We’ll be right there,” he said, finally, and hung up.