Chapter Four. The moment we got in the lift and the doors closed, cutting off the view of the lobby, I breathed a sigh of relief, and I could see the tension draining out of Lolly and David, too. Ray Gilbert started grinning as he saw me watch him hit the button for the penthouse. "Think this is neat? Just you wait, Gabe." I felt like I was taking part in a secret service reality show, and if it hadn't been for the very real pain I had seen Davey suffer at the hands of those bastards, I'd have been looking for hidden cameras. Which reminded me of the photographs Valerian had emailed, which in turn reminded me of Nick. I knew whoever remained at my house was in danger. The lift 'tinged', the doors opened and I felt my jaw drop. "Blimey!" "Yep, that's pretty much how we felt, didn't we, bro," Lolly said, lightly punching me on the arm. "Don't worry, they won't bite." "Not until we're formally introduced anyway." I turned to see an old Arab with a long black beard and a walking stick approaching down an opulently appointed corridor. He was wearing a sparkling white djellaba with a black and gold three-ring headpiece. "Please follow me, gentlemen." His voice was dusty with age and I was thinking how good his English was, when I heard Ray and Lolly snicker. We followed him back down the corridor, and I had begun getting the distinct impression something was off kilter, when he paused and ushered us through a pair of double doors. I felt my jaw drop again and made the effort to shut my mouth. My teeth clicked together audibly. The room was huge. The wall facing me was taken up by floor to ceiling windows with a large balcony beyond. Some of the window panels were open and I could hear splashing and giggling, presumably from a swimming pool. To the right were a couple of distinctly different seating areas, one with an arrangement of comfortable couches, floor cushions and soft looking armchairs, the other a large table surrounded by high backed chairs that wouldn't have looked out of place in a boardroom. Backing this area was a floor to ceiling bookcase that seemingly acted as a divider. Through a gap in the books on one shelf, I saw a cute, blonde-haired, bespectacled face watching me thoughtfully before turning away towards a row of what looked like computer monitors. It was all so different from my own home that it added to my sense of unreality, and I had to fight the urge to pinch myself. The Arab gentleman who had shown us in shuffled slowly off through the windows onto the balcony and disappeared out of view. I was left standing in the doorway as Lolly and Davey brushed past me and walked off behind the bookcase, probably to talk to 'spectacles'. I turned to speak to Ray, but he had vanished too. "Hey, Gabe, make yourself at home." It was Lolly's voice, and then I spotted him peering through the bookcase. "Ahh …. Bathroom?" "Down the hall, second door on the left." "'k, thanks, Lolly," I said as his head vanished, and I went to find the bathroom. I needed to pee quite badly but held off when I saw a phone on a table next to the bathroom door. Picking up the receiver, I was about to dial when I realized there wasn't a dial tone. I pressed 'nine'. There was a click followed by a dial tone, which then stopped. I cut the connection and tried again, with the same result. Sighing and wishing I'd managed to keep my cell phone, I opened the bathroom door. Coleridge's poem 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner' sprang to mind, except it was 'Marble, marble everywhere, nor any drop to drink'. I started to giggle; the place was outrageous. There was a lavatory which I made use of before I opened a door into a changing room, complete with a huge walk-in shower and a pile of fluffy white towels. There were two other doors, one labeled 'steam room', the other 'Jacuzzi'. I'd always wanted to have a 'steam', and as I was still sweaty after escaping the clutches of Ashmiel and his crew, I decided to give it a go. After all, I had been told to make myself at home. I quickly shucked my clothes, grabbed a towel and opened the door, to be hit in the face by a wall of steam. "Hello?" I said before closing the door behind me. There was no reply so I fumbled my way forward around the wall until I found the seating, and sat down with a sigh. A short while later I felt acclimatized and decided to move higher up, but the heat was intense, and almost immediately I began to feel like passing out. Considering I'd only recently recovered from mild M99 poisoning, I decided I'd probably had enough and stumbled out of the steam room. The temperature difference made me start to shiver, and I went straight into the hot shower, which proceeded to batter me into a virtual pulp. After a wonderful fifteen minutes, I turned the water off, feeling as clean as I'd felt in a long while, whilst at the same time just wanting to crawl into bed and sleep for a week, though I knew it wasn't likely. At least not until I'd spoken to Nick and made sure Caitlin was alright, and probably not before I'd met the fabled 'Boys'. It was as I finished drying myself that I realized my clothes had gone. In their place were a crisp white linen djellaba, a pair of new boxers and some ornate leather slippers. "Damn." I sat down on the changing room bench. The choices were simple. Wrap the towel around my waist and go and cause a scene, or put the djellaba on and go and cause a scene. I was still deciding when the door opened and Ray poked his head in. "You ok, Gabe?" "Not really, no." He pushed the door open and walked in, tilting his head quizzically. "My clothes have gone, and I …." "They're being cleaned," he interrupted with a small smile, "and should be back soon. Anyway, Rajit left you something to wear, didn't he?" "Oh …." I paused, wondering what to say. "I'm supposed to wear this?" I added, prodding the djellaba with my finger and grateful I had pulled the towel over my waist when I'd heard the door. I wasn't particularly attracted to Ray, but then I wasn't un-attracted either. I was now very aware that my mind seemed to have an agenda of its own, and at the most inopportune moments, too. Almost immediately I wished I hadn't had that thought, as Ray was standing in front of me, wearing black 501s that really for the sake of decency should have been baggier. "I'll leave you to it then," he said. "Thanks, I'll be out in a minute." "No hurry," he replied as he turned to the door, "when you're ready we're all gathering in the big room … erm … sure there's nothing else you need?" "Nope, I'll be fine. Thanks, mate." He left, and I leapt up and made sure the door was firmly shut. Sighing, I sat back down again, yawned, and clutched the towel to my face, cutting out the light. I was desperate to work out when and why I'd turned from being a normal sixteen-year-old on summer holiday into a sixteen-year-old who was being hunted by a murdering lunatic. The problem was, whichever way I examined it, I couldn't escape the conclusion I only had myself to blame. Damn that web site, damn that chat room and damn Valerian. Then there was Nick. He seemed to be on my side, but …. "Bollocks!" I spoke aloud, and after swiftly drying myself, pulled on the boxers and tried the wall phone again. Same problem, no line. "Who are you trying to call, Gabriel?" I nearly dropped the phone. It wasn't a voice I recognized. "Who is this?" I asked mildly, holding in tight check the thought that I'd jumped from the frying pan into the fire. "Oh, yeah, sorry, we haven't met. I'm Martin, Martin Trubshaw." "Yes?" "'Yes' what?" "Well … why do you want to know who I'm trying to call?" "Oh, because I'm in charge of the switchboard for the afternoon, and to be honest, if you're trying to call home, I wouldn't. We think, well … we're sure your phone is tapped." If I hadn't been leaning against the wall, I might well have fallen over. As it was I felt a shiver run up my spine. Who the hell were these people? I pulled myself together. "Actually I was just trying to phone a friend," I extemporized and hung up. I pulled the djellaba over my head. It felt awkward and so different from what I normally wore, I was amazed anyone could ever get used to wearing one. It had a high collar at the front that ran around to a low collar at the back, which reminded me of some of my mother's less attractive dresses. The leather sandals, however, fitted me like a glove, and I instantly fell in love with them. I was checking my street cred in the mirror, and was starting to feel I was being set up for some awful pratfall, when there was a quiet tap on the door. I took a deep breath. "Yes?" The door opened, and the blonde, spectacle-wearing guy came in. He seemed rather nervous. "Hi," he said. His voice was light and in a upper register. "I'm Martin; we just spoke on the phone." "Right?" I examined him and in return was examined. He was a few inches shorter than me, which I guessed put him at around five seven, and close up he was hellish cute, though I instinctively felt he wasn't someone to underestimate. "You're wearing it back to front," he stated, and a small smile swiftly crossed his mouth. I was entranced. "Hmm?" He smiled again, and this time it stayed there and I could hear a laugh building inside him. "Your djellaba. You're wearing it back to front, and I'm guessing it's not a fashion statement." I found myself grinning back at him, and when the laugh finally broke free I joined in. I couldn't help it; he was infectious. "Here, let me help you." He stepped forward, and in one swift movement pulled the djellaba over my head before I had time to stop him, leaving me standing in a pair of boxers and nothing else. I was about to reach for the towel and protest when I caught him looking me over. He huffed, raised an eyebrow and, pushing his glasses firmly back up his nose, turned the garment around in his hands and put it back over my head, leaving me feeling rather like a mannequin. "Better." "It feels better," I replied, glancing in the mirror, "though in hindsight I think I rather liked it the way it was." "Huh?" I grinned at wrong-footing him. "Just kidding, and … thanks, Martin." I held out my hand and we shook. Then, rather than leaving, he sat down. "So Gabe, who were you trying to call?" I hunted for a toothbrush by the basin and found a drawer full of new ones. "Well … yeah, you were right, I was trying for home." "Don't worry then, 'cause Sellick spoke to Nick, and they know what's been happening and have taken precautions." "Fuck!" My mind started to race, with the only positive being these 'Boys' obviously didn't mean me any harm, other than getting me to look like a tit in a robe. I sat down next to Martin and took a deep breath. "You'd better tell me." "What we know?" He was sharp as a razor, and I could tell by the way he was looking at me he knew it, but didn't flaunt it. I nodded. "Please." "Best if we do the telling in the room with the others." He paused, pushing his glasses back up again. "What do you know about Arabic, and the Arab way of life?" "Insha'allah shukran," I replied smiling, "and of course they blow people up." Martin frowned. "That's in really bad taste and beneath you … Gabriel." He started rubbing his thumb and forefinger together and stood up. I realized by the tone of his voice I'd made a mistake, and caught him by the elbow. "Sorry, honestly, I meant it as a joke." Shrugging my hand off, Martin turned and stared at me. "Not funny, especially here. You haven't met Jamal yet, but let me give you a word of warning. If you ever say anything like that in his presence, he'll knock you on your arse so fast you'll be sore for a week, and then he'll fling you out and withdraw his friendship." Martin seemed to be vibrating like a violin string. I wasn't sure how to put it right. "I … look, I'm really, really sorry, Martin. I've had a … well, I've had a bad day and I guess I misjudged your sense of humour, and …." "Humour!" He cut me off. "That's not humour, that's naïve, media driven bigotry." He was magnificent, shouting, and I felt flecks of his spittle landing on my cheek. "You think everyone wearing a djellaba is strapped up with explosives ready for jihad, do you? Well, look in the fucking mirror, arsehole!" The door crashed open against the wall, and a large, wet, tanned blonde in navy Speedos stood there, glowering. "Aww, Sellick, can't I have any fun without you rushing in like an overgrown bear cub?" Martin said, putting his hands on his hips. I felt my jaw drop again. This was all too weird. "We heard you shouting, Martin, and I thought there might be a ruck, you know … a tiff." He grinned at Martin and winked, and oddly, Martin blushed. I placed Sellick's accent as South African, though it had definite undertones of English public school. "Well, there's not, unless you want to start one?" "No, ta very much," and flashing me a grin, he left, closing the door gently behind him. "That was Sellick," Martin said, sitting down beside me, putting his arm around my shoulders and squeezing. "I gathered," I replied, "and you'd still be Martin, I assume, Martin the one who just wound me up something rotten!" I shouted the last bit right in his ear but he didn't react, just put his little finger in there, waggled it about and grinned back at me. "Thanks for that." He eyed me casually, but I could tell he was pondering something. "Yep, I'm Martin and …." There was a definite pause before he continued, as if he'd come to a decision and then changed his mind, "you've been lurking in the bathroom for long enough." He stood up and dragged me to my feet. "Come and meet the rest of them." "Don't you mean 'us'?" "Erm … yeah … I guess if you're a pedant that's better, just didn't think you were, is all." He let go of my hand, opened the door and walked out. I felt odd, as if I'd missed out on something important, but I couldn't for the life of me work out what it was. Slowly I followed and closed the door behind me. Martin was already disappearing through the double doors when I caught up and followed him into the room. I stopped just inside the door whilst he made a beeline for the bookcase and disappeared behind it. Generally I'm not shy, but the sheer enormity of my problems, added to the fact that I didn't know any of them very well, was making me decidedly tongue-tied. Not to mention the fact that I was wearing what amounted to a dress. They were sitting on the couches quietly talking, and they were all, except for Martin, wearing djellabas; which was why it took me ten seconds to spot him. "Brian? … Brian!" I was more than overjoyed to see my best friend sitting there next to Lolly and Davey, and my shyness vanished as we grinned at each other; and then realized I was being rude. I cleared my throat. "Hello, I'm Gabe, Gabriel Dawson, but my friends call me Gabe, and thank you for the sanctuary." I got back various "His" and "Hellos" and a "Howdy" from Sellick, but they didn't introduce themselves. It was almost as if they were waiting for permission. The older Arab who had met us when we arrived walked out from behind the bookcase, helped by Martin, and I watched them as they slowly made their way over to me. I could have sworn his beard now seemed longer, and on closer inspection, his crystal blue eyes and honey-coloured skin appeared remarkably youthful. Perhaps it was that, or perhaps it was the fact that I caught sight of Brian trying to hide a shit-faced grin that did it, God only knows; but without pause for thought, I reached forward, took the bottom of his beard in my hand, and pulled. It came away in my hand, and there was a sharp intake of breath from those watching. The old man, his faced creased in pain, now seemed a lot younger as he hopped from foot to foot. "Damn and blast your friend, Martin, that bloody hurt!" He pushed past me brusquely and set off down the corridor, still cursing in what sounded like Arabic, as the rest of the room exploded in laughter. "Great stuff, man," the South African said, slapping his thigh. "I don't think I've ever seen Jamal so petarded by his hoist …." "You daft Boer lummox! It's 'hoist by his own petard'." A red-haired, freckle-faced boy interrupted good-naturedly in a broad Scottish accent. I felt a hand on my arm and turned, as Martin spoke quietly. "The Scot is Alex, Sellick you know, and the two canoodling on the other couch are Fluffy and JJ … and they're umm …." "Together?" I interrupted him before he exploded. I'd never seen anyone blush like that. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and then ran his fingers through his hair in a distracted fashion as the guys on the couches started talking again. I watched as Lolly, who seemed to be explaining our escape to Brian, was interrupted by Davey. Sellick winked at me, then picked up a remote and switched the large projector TV onto a sports channel. "Yeah … that's just what they are … together," Martin said, almost under his breath before chewing on his lower lip a couple of times. He chuckled, "yep … together," then sighed deeply. "Anyway, that leaves Dan, who's gone out for a bit, and His Royal Highness Prince Jamal Al-Keif, who fled the room after you ripped his beard off." He threw the line away with a small smile and I flushed, cringing with embarrassment. I could see he was watching me and was probably judging me by what I said and did next. It was disconcerting, especially as I wasn't absolutely sure I was reading him right, and also because he still had his hand on my arm and I found I liked it. A lot. "Oh," I said, for lack of anything wittier to say, and he let go of my arm, clapped me on the back, and laughed. "Oh, yes! This is going to be fun … wanna see my bit?" And without waiting for a reply, he took me by the hand, which I honestly didn't mind, and dragged me around the couches to the other side of the bookcase. The gap between the bookcase and the wall formed a well-lit but cosy space about ten feet wide and thirty long. It was decorated in muted pastel blues with a long bench and several leather chairs on castors, along with three very large flat screen panels and a …. Yet again I felt my jaw drop. "I don't believe it … you've got a Cray." Martin was grinning at me and started whirling like a dervish. "Yep! I knew it was you, I knew you'd appreciate it. It's an X…" "An XD1!" I interrupted. "I just don't believe it, how …." I was utterly shell shocked. I guess you have to be into computers, but comparing the best specification off-the-shelf computer to a Cray is like comparing a push bike to a Ferrari. I was insanely jealous. Brian's head appeared through the bookcase. "I told you he'd appreciate your box of wires, Martin … so what do you really think then, Gabe?" "I … I … I'm just …." "Speechless?" I spun around to see a young-looking Arab in jeans and a t-shirt smiling at me, his black hair still damp. He held his hand out, I took it and we shook. "I'm Jamal and it's good to finally meet you, Gabriel." "Please, it's Gabe," I replied, "and I'm sorry for the …," I pointed at his face, "you know, the beard thing." "No, no, my hat is off to you, it was good. Martin and Brian are the only ones who said you'd guess, though neither of them mentioned you pulling it off." I felt myself redden. "Insha'allah," I muttered, looking at my toe nails poking out of the front of the slippers, and trying desperately not to laugh. "Indeed it is, Gabe, indeed it is," Jamal said, and looked briefly at one of the monitors before continuing. "If you'll excuse me I have a couple of calls to make before we begin, but I'm sure Martin will keep you entertained with his toys." And with a pat on my shoulder, he continued on past the bench and through a doorway at the end. "Toys? Is he mad?" I said. "Nope," said Martin, "he knows what Dulcy can do if she wants to." "Aww, that's sweet." I smiled at him. "You've named your computer." Martin frowned. "For sure, which is no different to you and your Ka … computer." "What were you about to say?" "Hmm, sorry?" He walked down the bench to a bank of switches and turned on a couple. "You started to say something and then changed it to 'computer'. Please, what was it?" He looked at me blankly for a second and then called out, "Brian, come and keep Gabe company, I've just got to umm … call of nature." It was a poor excuse for not answering my question, but what could I do? Martin vanished through the door Jamal had left by, just as Brian came round the end of the bookcase and sat down. "So what do you think, Gabe?" I did a double take; he was back in street clothes. "Brian, when did you change, and more to the point why did you change?" I peered through the hole in the bookcase and saw they were all back in street clothes. "Am I the only idiot left wearing a djellaba dress thing, then?" It might have sounded whiny, but I honestly didn't care. I felt whiny, I was confused, had been chased by lunatics, and though I was safe and amongst friends, they weren't friends I'd known very long, and they were all acting in a very strange way. And then I thought of Caitlin and of Apollodoros and Nick and the house. "Keep cave for me please, mate," I whispered. "Huh?" "Keep a look out for me, I need to make a call, talk to Nick." "That's so not a good idea, Gabe." He was looking nervous. "I was told that your line's tapped, and if you get through they'll know where you are and then …." He was shifting from foot to foot, and I was grateful it wasn't Caitlin standing there, 'cause she'd have been tapping like a lunatic by now. I grinned at the thought. "Yeah, I follow the logic, mate, but honestly with Dulcy I don't think I'll have a problem." "Look, Gabe," he started, playing with his bangs, "we don't want to be chucked out for messing with Martin's stuff, especially if what Lolly and Davey told me was the truth." "If they said we'd been attacked by an Arab and his two henchmen and Davey had been given a beating, then it was the truth, but there were no aliens in sight, ok?" He chuckled. "John says Nick can take care of himself, but if you want to call go ahead, and yes, I'll keep a look out." I winced at the mention of his brother's name, but I wasn't about to foul mouth John in front of Brian. Brian knew what I felt, and anyway, I had more important things to do. "Thanks, Brian." I did nothing but look at the system for a couple of minutes and then picked up the headset, put it on and hit the space bar. The screens cleared. I made sure I could invoke the screensavers, which had been running a complex animated loop, and then found the telecoms program. I routed the call through fifteen ground and five satellite relays around the world and then dialed my house on the other side of the park. It rang … and rang … and rang. There was no answer. I took off the headset, invoked the screensaver, and then sat back in the chair. "Brian." I was close to tears. He walked back from the start of the bookcase where he had been watching the others in the other part of the room and sat down. "Yeah?" "There's no reply, and there should be someone home, Bri, even if it's only Apollodoros, there should be someone home." I felt a tear slowly slide down my cheek and did nothing to hide it; Brian knew me well enough. "I'm sure they're fine, Gabe, I'm sure they're fine." The door at the end of the room opened and Martin re-appeared, walked over and sat down in the chair next to me. I self-consciously wiped the tears off my face with the sleeve of the djellaba, and was just about to blow my nose when I thought better of it and sniffed instead. "Mind if I have a few words with Gabe, Brian?" "No, mate, you go ahead. I'm … erm, I'm going to go get a coke, anyone want one?" Martin and I both shook our heads and Brian, giving me one last smile, got up and left. For some reason I was feeling really nervous, and glancing at Martin, it seemed that so did he. He wheeled himself over to the bench, opened a drawer and brought me back a box of paper handkerchiefs. I took one, thinking how sweet it was of him, sniffed and then blew my nose. Family traits again. Whereas Caitlin and my mother tap their feet, my father and I, so we're told, blow our noses like elephants. "Bloody hell!" I recognized Sellick's voice immediately, but the thud of something heavy hitting the carpet came as a shock. There was general laughter and Brian poked his head through the bookcase. "JJ fell off the couch!" he said, a huge grin plastered on his face; then I heard Sellick suggest another swim, and after a lot of to-ing and fro-ing, there was silence. Neither Martin nor I spoke, and though I was very aware he was watching me, because I was watching him, it didn't feel awkward. He started methodically swiveling his chair left and right, and I guessed it was an aid to help him think. "You're good, you're very good." The chair swung left, then right, and back again. "But then I knew you were, as I've said." "I'm sorry I …." He cut me off mid-sentence, by pointing at the top shelf of the bookcase. I followed his finger, and there between two small leather-bound volumes caught the glint off the lens of a small security camera. "Oh." "I'm glad you're not denying it." "Denying what? That I tried to phone home? Why should I?" "It's more the how you tried to phone home." We sank back into silence and I started to swivel my chair too. It was subconscious at first, but the rhythm became almost soporific and I noticed that at times our knees would brush together in passing. "Do you hack?" He looked at me, startled, pushing his glasses back up, and I realized he was as into our unorthodox game of chair twister as I was. "Do I hack, yep it's a good question. How about you, do you hack?" "You didn't answer," I said flatly, looking into his eyes. I was wondering why he didn't use contacts, and whether he'd mind if I just took the glasses off for a minute to see how he'd look without them. Then I realized that that would be such an amazingly gay thing to suggest that I might as well just come out and ask him for a kiss. And above all that, I was wondering how I could possibly re-organise myself without being too obvious. He was just …. "Yes, ok, yes I do." He paused, and I could see that he'd fought to say that, and that I was being honoured with his reply. I took the moment to totally revolve the chair, and when my back was to him I sorted myself out. Bliss. I decided to fess up. "Ok … I do too. It's why I'm here; it's why I'm in all this trouble." Our swiveling was now in perfect synchronization and our knees were lightly brushing on every pass, but we were looking at anything and everything except each other. I was receiving and sending dreadfully mixed signals and I was sure it would take more than a Cray XD1 to unravel them. "What did you do?" "I started to help my father, or rather, I started to prove to my father that I could do something he didn't think I was able to do." "That sounds complicated." I glanced at him, positive he was taking the piss, but the smile was genuine so I returned it, then pretended to look back at my lap. I discovered that my hair was long enough so I could look at my lap but also use my eyes to look at his crotch. I felt wicked; it was awful. Like a sweet store window to a chocoholic, though I was beginning to be convinced that he was suffering the same problem I was. "What about love?" "Huh?" My head snapped up in time to see a semi-tortured expression on his face, which vanished as soon as he saw me looking. "What do you mean by that?" I'm sure I wasn't aggressive, I certainly didn't mean to be; but though we continued swiveling, he pulled himself away a couple of feet. The absence of our rhythmic knee brushing hurt badly, and I almost whimpered. "Sorry, Martin, but that was rather out of the blue … so what did you…?" "Dunno …." He stopped swiveling and then started again, "well 'k, I do, it's just that … they say people fall in love with people online and yet they never, ever get to meet in real life, which is sad, and I was wondering if anything like that had ever happened to you." I knew I should have kept score, as my mouth fell open again. "I … I'm only sixteen, and you think I might have already found a girlfriend, or a … a future wife." "I didn't say that." He looked me directly in the eye and I felt … I don't know what to call it, what label to put on it, but what I felt was so intensely profound, I gasped. "Anyway, now we know we probably play in the same sorts of on-line playgrounds, let's do the introductions again, properly. So … hello, I'm Martin, better known in some circles as 'Son of Neo' or 'SoN' for short …." I stopped breathing, or rather I held my breath. This had to be another wind-up, and this one wasn't at all funny, as it was far, far too close to home. On-line, 'Son of Neo' and I knew each other like brothers. Like all relationships, ours had started because we were both learning how to hack, but it had evolved to a much deeper level. We had helped each other out of scrapes that had nearly been our downfall, and had a rock solid friendship that I liked to think was unique. We told each other everything, and I'd told him things I'd never have told him if I thought there was the slightest chance we'd meet in real life. Son of Neo knew I was questioning my sexuality, knew I was beginning to think I was gay, and he knew because he felt exactly the same way … and we'd slowly started flirting, and now here he was sitting in front of me. And the plain, unalterable fact was that I was in love with him, though we'd never met and I never thought we would. I was so wrapped up in this train of thought that I nearly missed the end of his speech. "… and you are Gabriel; better known as Seraph666." Chapter 3 • Index • Chapter 5 Seraph by Camy © 2006/2007/2008 Thanks to Kitty, for all the editorial input and tweaking. She has made this tale much, much better than it was. Gassho. Your name: Your e-mail address: copy message to you Subject: