She nodded. It was startling to see Gabriel, who she thought of as such a quiet, artistic, non-confrontational man, in a brutal fistfight. Alex was back on his feet and they were exchanging blows, without any sort of regard for the rules of good sportsmanship. When Alex landed a hit to the kidney Gabriel winced in pain, but came right back at Alex with a punch that collided with Alex’s skull with such force Sara actually heard the crack.

Jesus Christ. They were going to kill each other. Sara ran past Rafe and Marguerite, purse in her hand, her goal to get to Jocelyn and then call the police. They needed help, because while Gabriel looked like he was holding his own, she didn’t like the ferocity of his fight with Alex. Someone was going to wind up with a concussion or in a coma and she sure in the hell didn’t want it to be Gabriel.

The shadow rising on the wall in front of her as she stumbled down the hall had her instinctively turning to see what had caused it.

Then wishing she hadn’t.

Because what she was seeing didn’t make any sense. It was completely illogical. Insane. But there it was—Rafe and Marguerite embracing, his arms around her patting her back, her head on his shoulder. Three feet off the floor. They were hovering in space, in air, in nothingness, their feet flat like they were standing on solid ground, only they weren’t.

Sara squeezed her eyes shut hard. Reopened them. They were still floating like human helium balloons. Beyond them, Gabriel and Alex continued to grapple with each other, and Gabriel rammed Alex into the wall so hard that when he pulled back there was a hole in the drywall from his elbow.

It wasn’t right. None of it was right and she wasn’t seeing what she was seeing.

Afraid that she was on the verge of going down, her head swimming, mouth hot, stomach churning, Sara whirled and went for the bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind her.

Gabriel was glad Sara had finally left the room. She had lingered longer than he was comfortable with, given that Marguerite was a loose cannon and Alex hell-bent on beating the shit out of him. It made him feel better that she was in another room with the door closed.

Alex taunted him. “Your girlfriend doesn’t know anything about you, does she? She doesn’t know you’re a drunk and a drug addict.”

“Actually, she does.” Gabriel ducked when Alex swung to him in the face. “So no need to run off and tell on me. She’s perfectly aware of my flaws.” He didn’t bother to argue that he was no longer a drunk and a drug addict since he had been clean for seventy-five years. He didn’t need to explain himself or justify anything to Alex.