~~Young~~

Chapter Eleven

   Oh fuck! She was of the innocent! Gage snapped his panicked gaze to the door Sera was shut behind. Michael had tried to trick him! Trick him into killing an innocent so he would lose his immortality, so he would die.

   He clawed at his chest now, wishing he could rip the icy weight off.

   He said it, Michael had warned him those actions weren’t crimes of the sprit the bastard. But if she had admitted to as much Gage would have ended her life then and there. He felt sick, honestly sick to his stomach. Michael knew Gage would do the opposite of whatever he said. He didn’t lie but he mislead.

   How long had he waited for this opportunity, waited for the stars to align when Gage would be called to remove an innocent, when he knew all points pointed to them as the opposite. Either way Michael would win. It was all he needed, for Gage to get involved with her.

   It wasn’t the first time an otherwise innocent soul had committed a wrongdoing against the wrong person, someone powerful, with even more powerful associates that knew of Gage and his work. And it wouldn’t be the first time Gage had walked away from it, solving the mystery but being unable to help all the same. Mortals were petty creatures at best. One little wrongdoing and they wished the lives of those committing the act.

   Lucky for them Gage hadn’t developed a fondness for any of them.

   “Gage,” Sera called softly, “I’m…I’m all set.”

   He closed his eyes, refusing to acknowledge her, refusing to turn around and make himself apart of her life any farther and as such her death. Now he was afraid for himself. If she died by his hands or by his fault then God would punish him. Once he could catch him of course, but still, Sera’s life was going to mean his own.

   But then she touched him, her fingers cold against his arm.

   Cold, to him?

   He opened his eyes with a frown, remembering how just a moment ago he could feel the moisture in his boots stiffening from the chill, from his anger. And now…puddles, and that quickly. He looked to where Sera’s delicate fingers rested on his arm, felt the chill from her skin despite knowing it was her touch that warmed him. But she shouldn’t feel that cold, mortals were warm blooded creatures…

   “Gage what’s wrong?” she pressed, her grip firming on his bicep.

   Everything, but he couldn’t tell her that, “nothing,” he finally turned to her with a sigh, taking her hand in his. She had indeed changed, in a pair of black slacks much like Death’s and a loose grey tee. And adding to his mounting difficulty in trying to avoid too deep a thought of her, she had obviously removed her bra, leaving him to wonder if the panties were still there too, “nothing beauty.”

   “You’re lying.”

   “Am I?” he grinned as he ran fingers lightly over the lines in her brow, why couldn’t he resist her, “do you really think you know me well enough to tell?”

   “A…no,” she admitted, truthfully at that as her cheeks warmed and her gaze dropped from his, but quickly it came right back, wide and afraid, “Gage what happened?” she asked alarmed.

    He looked to see what had upset her so…to see the molting purple bruise now crisscrossing his chest.

   See, almost rubbed it right off.

   He quirked up a lip, “I’m fine, just a bad habit,” he went to rub at again and found that his skin was indeed tender.

   “Do you do that a lot?” she lifted her hand and let her touch linger above the discoloration, as if she was afraid to touch it, to touch him.