Though the black mask of a face Gabriel wore did not change, a part of him wished that Conor had opened the thing. Though it was apparent there was no love for Haku in the boy, he still shared that tainted blood. He still shared the darkness of his father, just as Gabriel did. If he had shown anything—any sort of compassion, any sort of regret or sorrow—then Gabriel might have spoken more to him. He might have tested the boy. He might have killed him. In his mind, Haku’s spawn was wicked and the evil needed to be cleansed from the land. If he had his way, all of the beasts children, righteous and unholy alike, would be erased from the earth.
He had done so before.
Yet the boy left him wondering, watching his retreating figure, and Gabriel felt his lips curl. Though he did not know it, he could sense something wicked around the boy, sense something wicked in the thing that he had just handed over. With a grunt, the coy-wolf rose to his feet and began moving north.
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