He had expected to find the woman he knew. Instead, a beastly thing guided by that same Shadow he had seen before met him. Gabriel, exhausted, could only stand and pant heavily to gain his breath. All of his weight fell back on three limbs, which trembled. Oblivious to the wicked things his children had done, Gabriel stared wide-eyed at the woman who now looked nothing like herself.
Instinct forced him to move, blocking her path to the river. Head low, tail even with his spine, Gabriel showed no aggression. Not yet, while she was unpredictable. Not while she came looking for blood. “No,” he said firmly. It was the voice of an Aquila; the voice of a man who had led armies to war. “You’re not yourself, Alaine.” Holy signs dangled in the dark air, flashing as lighting cut across bruise-colored clouds. Gabriel would not fight her, but he would not allow her past the river. That much he owed to the clan—to his children.
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