Page 8

A bit of tension left Gabriel’s shoulders at this small confession. Perhaps this Similar would be a more willing participant in the dance Gabriel was attempting to choreograph than he had expected—a dance that would begin when the stranger revealed why he was in the area and if other Similars had accompanied him, and would conclude when he agreed to return to wherever he came from and pledged to never darken the doorstep of their quiet town again.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Gabriel grinned, but his expression faltered when he noticed Iris heading back to their table. He stood at once to re-join her. “All set?” he asked, keeping his tone casual.

“Yeah, I’m sixth, just after that guy with the accordion.”

“Right.” Gabriel tapped his knuckles against the table, glancing surreptitiously over her shoulder.

“Who were you talking to?” Iris peered behind her. When she turned back around, her expression had brightened a little. “I’ve met that man.”

Gabriel’s heart skipped. “Who?” he asked, trying to appear unbothered. He hoped his acting skills were up to snuff, but it was unlikely; Iris had always been able to read him as easily as a children’s book.

“That guy over there. He came into the office yesterday.” She glanced over again. Blair’s attention was on the stage, where the first performer was busy tuning his guitar while chatting animatedly with Cody. “He looks lonely. Don’t you think?” she asked, turning back to Gabriel with a frown.

Gabriel cleared his throat. Truly, this was the last thing he needed. Keeping his past a secret from Iris was hard enough without throwing another supernatural being into the mix. A supernatural being of unknown origins and affiliations was even worse.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “He’s probably here with someone.”

The voices around them hushed as the open mic kicked off. Gabriel kept his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Why on earth had he drawn attention to this Similar—to Blair, if that was really his name—and risked Iris seeing?

Even more alarming, why had the stranger visited Iris’ office? Could it be a coincidence that he had shown up at both of their workplaces within the span of a single week?

Something acidic rose up in Gabriel’s throat. What if Blair was part of their crowd?

What if, God forbid, they had decided to track him down at last?

As the night dragged on and flurries settled against the pub’s icy windows, Iris’ focus on the performers was fractured at best. Her attention kept diverting from Gabriel’s stiff, standoffish posture to the young man behind her, still seated alone. She felt a strange urge to say hello to him. He’d seemed so lost when they had met, both at the elevators and at the lobby desk. Maybe he was new to town and needed someone to show him around.

When her turn finally came to perform, Iris stumbled onto the stage, her mandolin still untuned. Apologizing profusely, she twisted the pegs at the ends of the strings, nearly snapping one in the process.

She started with an original, concentrating on a framed poster of Hall and Oates on the wall so she didn’t have to think about how many people were there. When the audience applauded, her gaze caught on the stranger’s, his gray eyes wide like a deer frozen under stage lights. Iris swallowed, flexing her hand against the strings as she tried to remember which song she had been planning to play next.

An hour later, steaming water poured over Iris’ short dark curls as she worked her shampoo into a lather, gratefully languishing in the heat of the shower after enduring the cold all evening. When she finally stepped out of the bathroom in her sky blue pajama set and magenta bathrobe, she jumped. Gabriel was leaning against the guest room doorframe, his face dimmed in partial shadow. He was still wearing his long suede coat, though they’d arrived home a half hour earlier.

“I need to talk to you.”

Iris looked at him warily, trailing a wide-toothed comb through her wet hair. “Okay. Let’s talk.”

She led the way to the kitchen table and made a show of quietly and respectfully pulling out two chairs. Snow pelted the roof, and a steady wind whistled through the elms, knocking stray branches against the side of the house and making Iris wince. She sat, staring at him expectantly. “What’s going on with you, Gabriel?”

Gabriel removed his coat, placed it on the rack near the front door, and took a seat. They sat in silence for several long seconds before Gabriel stood up again, muttering something about tea.

“Sit down. Please.” Iris’ hand shot out to grip his arm. Gabriel stared down at it for a moment before lowering himself back into his chair. “Talk to me.”

Worry ignited inside her. Just a week earlier, she and Gabriel had spent a joy-filled evening painting, laughing as they splashed color across canvas, as they challenged one another to see what kinds of ludicrous materials they could use to add depth to their abstracts. She had thought then that life couldn’t get much better. At long last, she had a home where she felt safe, a place bursting with art and music and all the comforts she could wish for. Best of all, she had Gabriel.

But did she? Had she ever, really?

As she looked over at him, at the demons barely hidden behind his eyes, she wondered if she had ever truly known him. If he had ever really let her know him.

At last, Gabriel cleared his throat, his voice a low rumble. “That stranger at the pub. You said you’ve seen him before?”

Iris stared, lost for words. This was what he wanted to talk to her about? The silent stranger at open mic? But Gabriel was still watching her expectantly. She nodded.

“He came to see you at the dentist’s?”

Iris shook her head. “He wasn’t there to see me. He said he had an appointment.”

Gabriel nodded, looking away so that she couldn’t read his expression.