Gabriel's Promise (Gabriel's Inferno) Read online

  PRAISE FOR THE GABRIEL’S INFERNO SERIES

  “I found myself enraptured by Sylvain Reynard’s flawless writing.”

  —The Autumn Review

  “Emotionally intense and lyrical.”

  —Totally Booked Blog

  “The Professor is sexy and sophisticated. . . . I can’t get enough of him!”

  —USA Today bestselling author Kristen Proby

  “We don’t see many loves like this, so it makes it all the more special when we pick up a novel of this stature with such a unique writing style.”

  —Star-Crossed Book Blog

  “An unforgettable and riveting love story that will sweep readers off their feet.”

  —Nina’s Literary Escape

  “Sylvain Reynard’s writing is captivating and intense. . . . It’s hard not to be drawn to the darkly passionate and mysterious Gabriel, a character you’ll be drooling and pining for!”

  —Waves of Fiction

  “A must-read. . . . The writing, as always, deserves special mention for its style and beauty.”

  —Bookish Temptations

  Titles by Sylvain Reynard

  GABRIEL’S INFERNO

  GABRIEL’S RAPTURE

  GABRIEL’S REDEMPTION

  GABRIEL’S PROMISE

  THE PRINCE

  THE RAVEN

  THE SHADOW

  A JOVE BOOK

  Published by Berkley

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  penguinrandomhouse.com

  Copyright © 2020 by Sylvain Reynard

  Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  A JOVE BOOK, BERKLEY, and the BERKLEY & B colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Reynard, Sylvain, author.

  Title: Gabriel’s promise / Sylvain Reynard.

  Description: First Edition. | New York: Jove, 2020. | Series: Gabriel’s Inferno; 4

  Identifiers: LCCN 2019031924 (print) | LCCN 2019031925 (ebook) | ISBN 9780593097984 (paperback) | ISBN 9780593097991 (ebook)

  Subjects: LCSH: Family secrets—Fiction. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction. | Love stories.

  Classification: LCC PR9199.4.R4667 G29 2020 (print) |

  LCC PR9199.4.R4667 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019031924

  LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019031925

  First Edition: January 2020

  Cover art by LightField Studios Inc./Alamy Stock Photo

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  This book is dedicated to all those we have lost. May they never be forgotten.

  Contents

  Praise for The Gabriel’s Inferno Series

  Titles by Sylvain Reynard

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Acknowledgments

  Outtakes

  About the Author

  Prologue

  1313

  Verona, Italy

  The poet paused, his quill hovering like an anxious bird over the vellum.

  The words he’d placed in the mouth of his beloved were convicting. Even the ink condemned him.

  In penning Purgatorio, he’d been forced to reexamine his life in the aftermath of her death. His tribute to Beatrice was both homage and penance. But this was not the end.

  No, Beatrice’s death was not the end of their love. He loved her still and in loving her would be transformed.

  The bird of his quill returned to the vellum, giving voice to his loss. He had not been worthy of her in this life. But perhaps, in the next . . .

  “Turn, Beatrice, O turn thy holy eyes,”

  Such was their song, “unto thy faithful one,

  Who has to see thee ta’en so many steps.

  In grace do us the grace that thou unveil

  Thy face to him, so that he may discern

  The second beauty which thou dost conceal.”

  Here was his beloved now, beautiful and resplendent. Their love remained, but it had changed. And in changing, it deepened and became the stuff of eternity.

  The poet looked out over the city of his exile and mourne
d for his home. He mourned for Beatrice and what had not been.

  He hoped for what was to come. Her love had pointed him beyond herself, beyond their earthly love, to something transcendent, perfect, and eternal. He vowed, even as he purged his soul, that the words he penned would be prophetic and that all promises he made to her would be fulfilled. . . .

  Chapter One

  September 2012

  Mount Auburn Hospital

  Cambridge, Massachusetts

  Professor Gabriel O. Emerson cradled his newborn daughter to his chest. He was reclined in a chair next to his wife’s hospital bed, where she lay sleeping. Despite the protestations of the nursing staff, he’d refused to place the baby in the nearby bassinet. She was safer in his arms, resting over his heart.

  Clare Grace Hope Emerson was a miracle. He’d prayed for her in the crypt of St. Francis in Assisi, after he’d married his beloved Julianne. At the time, he’d been unable to father a child, the result of his own self-loathing. But with Julianne at his side, as his Beatrice and his wife, he had prayed. And God had answered his prayer.

  The baby stirred and moved her head.

  Gabriel held her securely, his large hand covering her back so he could feel the rhythm of her breath.

  “We loved you since before you were born,” he whispered. “We were so excited you were coming.”

  In this moment—this quiet, tender moment—Gabriel had everything he had ever wanted. If he had been Dante, he was Dante no longer, for Dante never knew the pleasure of marrying Beatrice or of welcoming a child born of their love.

  The poet in him reflected on the strange course of events that had taken him from the depths of despair to the heights of blessedness.

  “Apparuit iam beatitudo vestra,” he quoted with sincerity, thanking God that he hadn’t lost his wife and daughter, despite the complications during delivery.

  The specter of his father intruded on his happiness, prompting a spontaneous promise. “I will never leave. I will be here with you both, my darling girls, for as long as I live.”

  In the darkness of the hospital room, Gabriel resolved to protect, love, and care for his wife and his daughter, no matter the cost.

  Chapter Two

  One week later

  Mount Auburn Hospital

  Cambridge, Massachusetts

  It began with an email.

  It was a small thing—the checking of email. Perhaps it was one of the smallest, most inconsequential of actions. One tapped the screen of one’s phone and email messages appeared.

  A wise Canadian once wrote, The medium is the message. And in this case, the email and its contents were incredibly important.

  There had been whispers.

  The community of Dante specialists was not particularly large, and Professor Gabriel O. Emerson was well known. He’d been the top student to graduate from his program at Harvard, and in a very short time he made a name for himself at the University of Toronto.

  Then he’d been besieged by scandal—a scandal involving his beloved Julianne, who also happened to be his graduate student. There had been an investigation. A tribunal. A ruling. A resignation.

  The university kept the matter quiet. Julianne graduated and began doctoral studies at Harvard. Gabriel accepted a position as full professor at Boston University. They’d married on January 21, 2011.

  But still, there were whispers. Whispers from a former graduate student named Christa Peterson, who claimed Emerson was a predator and Julianne was a whore.

  Although Gabriel had done his best to silence Christa and to combat the rumors, the whispers continued. Now, a few months away from their second wedding anniversary, Gabriel kept his own counsel, not wishing to give voice to his worries. But in truth, he feared he’d tainted Julianne’s career. At this time, the academic community was far more forgiving of its male senior faculty than its young female graduate students.

  Gabriel knew this. Which was why he stared for some time at the email message he’d received.

  The message was from a group Gabriel had heard of but never met. He read the message and then once more, just to be sure he hadn’t misunderstood.

  A strange feeling washed over him. His skin prickled. Something momentous was about to happen. . . .

  “Gabriel?” Julianne’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Do we have everything? Rachel took home the flowers and balloons.”

  Gabriel opened his mouth to tell his wife about the email he’d just received, but was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Dr. Rubio, their obstetrician. She had a habit of popping up, like gray-eyed Athena in Homer’s Odyssey. Dr. Rubio appeared, made pronouncements, and vanished, sometimes leaving havoc in her wake.

  “Good morning.” She greeted the Emersons with a smile. “I need to go over a few things before Julia and Clare are discharged.”

  Gabriel returned his cell phone to his jacket pocket. He’d received the scare of his life a few days previous, when he mistakenly thought Julianne hadn’t survived the delivery. Anxiety still clung to him, like a hangover he could not shake.

  Which was why, upon hearing Dr. Rubio’s lengthy list of admonitions and instructions, he promptly forgot about the very important email and the absolute necessity of revealing its contents to his wife.

  Chapter Three

  What is she doing?” The Professor peered into the rearview mirror at his wife, who was seated behind him, next to Clare.

  His handsome face was boyish and his blue eyes danced. He was finally bringing his family home from the hospital. He had difficulty containing his excitement.

  “She’s still sleeping.” Julia bent over the baby carrier and lightly stroked the infant’s cheek.

  The baby’s rosebud mouth pouted while she slept. Wisps of dark hair peeked out from beneath the purple knitted hat she’d received as a gift from the hospital auxiliary. She was a beautiful baby, with a button nose and pudgy cheeks. Her eyes were large and indigo blue, when she deigned to open them.

  Julia’s heart was full. Her baby was healthy and her husband was even more supportive than she’d imagined. It was almost too much happiness for one person.

  “If she does something cute, let me know.” Gabriel’s tone was eager.

  Julia laughed. “All right, Professor.”

  “I like to watch her sleep,” Gabriel mused. He continued to drive the Volvo SUV at a snail’s pace through the streets of Cambridge. “She’s fascinating.”

  “You need to keep your eyes on the road, Daddy.”

  Gabriel flashed Julia a look.

  “Since when do you drive so slowly?” she teased.

  “Since everything I love is in this car.” Gabriel’s expression softened as he made eye contact with her through the mirror.

  Julia’s heart skipped a beat.

  His enthusiasm for fatherhood had outstripped her expectations. She remembered the first night they’d spent in the hospital, after Clare was born. Gabriel held Clare all through the night and would not be parted from her.

  Gabriel had said once that when he was an old man, he’d remember what Julianne looked like on the night they made love for the first time. She would remember the sight of her husband holding their baby on his chest for the rest of her life.

  Tears filled her eyes and threatened to overflow. She bent over the baby in order to hide her reaction.

  Gabriel turned the SUV onto their street—slowly, ever so slowly.

  “What the hell?” His buoyant mood came to an abrupt end, rather like a ship hitting an iceberg.

  “Language,” Julia murmured. “Let’s not teach the baby naughty words.”

  “If the baby were awake, she’d want to know what the hell was going on, too. Look at our lawn.” Gabriel piloted the car toward the driveway, his eyes trained on the front of their property.

  Julia followed his gaze.
/>   In front of their elegant two-story house was a flamboyance of plastic pink flamingos. Plastic, shocking pink flamingos. A giant wooden flamingo stood next to the front door, holding a sign:

  Congratulations Gabriel and Julia! It’s a girl!

  The smaller flamingos were so numerous Gabriel could barely see the blades of grass beneath them.

  It was an infestation. An infestation of tacky, kitschy lawn ornaments, clearly chosen by a fiend with an extreme deficit of good taste.

  “Holy shit!” exclaimed Julia.

  “Language.” Gabriel smirked. “I take it you weren’t expecting this?”

  “Of course not. I barely checked my email this week. Did you do it?”

  “You think I did this?” The Professor was indignant. Surely Julianne knew his taste did not extend to plastic abominations of lawn ornaments.

  But her comment reminded him of the email he’d received while they were still at the hospital. The contents of the message were urgent. He needed to speak to Julianne about them.

  She distracted him by laughing. “Maybe the flamingos are from Leslie, next door? Or your colleagues at Boston University?”

  “I doubt that. Surely they would have the good sense to send champagne. Or Scotch.”

  Once again, he prepared to tell Julianne about the email. But as he pulled into the driveway, the side door opened and Rachel, his sister, raced out.

  She was smiling ear-to-ear and dressed casually in a white T-shirt, jeans, and sandals. Her long, straight blond hair spilled over her shoulders, and her gray eyes were alight.

  “I guess we found the culprit of kitsch.” Gabriel shook his head.

  Julia touched his shoulder. “It was kind of her to do this. She’s been going back and forth between here and the hospital, helping out.”

  Gabriel frowned. “I know.”

  “Even though you think the flamingos are tacky, you need to be appreciative.”

  He lifted his chin primly. “I can be appreciative.”

  “I mean appreciative in a believable way,” Julia clarified.

  When Gabriel’s frown deepened, she unbuckled her seat belt and moved forward, pressing her lips to his cheek. “I love you. You’re a wonderful husband and an incredible father.”