Gabriel had just settled into the chair by the window, coffee in hand and a rare moment of silence his only company. He leaned back on the armchair, trying to calm himself down. The ether in the palace and Damian's mark helped him to forget about his nightmares. Or so he thought until now.
He closed his eyes, feeling the shadows grow bigger and stronger, tugging on his legs. Cold hands tried to drag him under the ground. Unintelligible whispers echoed into the sunlit room, approaching him, cold touching his ears, a knot formed in his chest, waiting for what would happen next, when Edward appeared in the doorway with a look that promised disruption.
"A message arrived," he announced, tone too casual.
Gabriel did not open his eyes; he did not need to feel the butler's scowl to know he did not like his stance. "From whom?"
Edward stepped inside, hands folded neatly behind his back. "Crista Lyon."
