Gabrielle and The War of The Gods: Gabrielle's Adventure Through Time, #3

By zachary chopchinski

Can an unknown power match up against the god of hell?

In her new life, Gabrielle is living in one of the darkest times in American history: running a safe house for the Underground Railroad. But with threats around every corner, Gabrielle finds it difficult to focus on her goal: take down Arawn.

Arawn is done playing games. With every soul, his power grows. And desperation makes him even more dangerous. When the god of hell discovers Gabrielle's weakness he will stop at nothing to take her down. Gabrielle is going to have to use every ounce of her power if she's going to survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: zachary chopchinski
• Release date: Aug 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781386136521

Book preview

I

LIFE FLEW BACK INTO Gabrielle like the scream of a horror movie. She wouldn’t have known she was lying on her back if she hadn’t immediately sat up gasping for air.

Gabrielle coughed as she brought her hands to her throat.

The last thing she remembered was awaiting her death by guillotine as the French commoners watched and cheered

At first, all she could see was a dull blur illuminated by a faint, fickle light. She closed her eyes again and vigorously rubbed at them, trying to clear the obstruction.

Gabrielle had freed Marie Antoinette’s soul by witnessing her death by guillotine and now had to trudge forth into this next life to free another. One more fight for an end that likely wouldn’t be pleasant.

H-hello? Gabrielle called, her voice nothing more than a raspy croak. She squeezed the soft fabric in her palms as she nervously awaited an answer.

When she didn’t get one, Gabrielle brought her hands back up to her face. Her cheeks and eyes ached as if she’d spent hours crying.  

She’d only died twice now since Alexandra had given her the magic bracelet that let her relive the lives of its owners. A third time, possibly, as she still didn’t know what happened to her host life as a house maid in the Palace of Versailles.

Gabrielle shifted in the bed. Her senses activating in waves, as a sudden rumble of rain made itself apparent on a large window across the room. An orange glow emitted from an oil lamp at her bedside, casting monstrous shadows that danced on the walls of the small room. 

The room’s decor was old and she was brought back to the decorations and oddities that adorned Alexandra's shop long ago.

A cold breeze drifted through the room, causing a chill to tiptoe down Gabrielle’s spine and she instinctually brought her hand to the bracelet. Still cold.

She realized she’d become rigid, battle ready in case Arawn decided to make an appearance or send one of his lackeys after her. Arawn, she now knew, was the God of the underworld.

He was enslaving the souls of people who died tragically in order to feed his power. Alexandra had explained to Gabrielle the last time they met that it was her job to stop him, although she still didn't know why she was chosen for this. And there was still the mystery of Webley and Arija and all the other people she’d been dreaming about. How did they fit into all of this?

What she did know was that as long as her host body was wearing the bracelet when they died, Gabrielle could witness their deaths and set them free. If Arawn managed to use one of his monsters to kill her host body, Gabrielle wouldn't be able to witness their natural death and the soul would be lost forever.

She shifted again with the ensuing chill. Gabrielle brought her hands to her lap to fiddle with the fabric of her nightgown, pinching and rolling the soft cotton between her fingers. As her sleeve shifted, a silver glint from the bangle rolled into view.

It looked more aged than it had in Versailles. The beautiful marking was still present, but it now looked faded and worn as if it had seen years of wear. She ran her fingers over the letters of the word she didn't understand. Only the l-t -ú-i were visible, but she remembered it from her first life in Scotland. 

Lucht siúil. Though she doubted that she was correctly pronouncing the ancient text, Gabrielle like to imagine that it sounded beautiful.

Her mind wandered off to think about how long she’d been gone and where she was now, when something at the foot of her bed caught her eye.

She rolled her feet under her and crawled to the edge of the bed. There, shuffled about, was the remnants of a small package that had been torn open. Next to the package was a pile of twine and two letters.

Gabrielle grabbed the two letters and scooched back to the headboard. Pressing the pillows behind her back, Gabrielle unfolded the first letter. The paper was rough and thick, like old parchment. It had a brown hue and the edges were crinkled and worn as if it had gone through a lot to be here in her hands.

The handwriting sprawled across the page was beautiful and neat.

Hazel,

I long for the days when I could hold you in my arms. If not for the memories to reflect upon, the curvature of your face, softness of your touch, the sweet lull of your voice, surely I would be a damned man.

It is with thoughts of you and of home that give me the desire to live another day. War has proven to be a Hell which I cannot describe.

I hope this package finds you well and that you enjoy the gift I’ve sent. It was something that presented itself to me and when I saw its timeless beauty, I thought of you.

Until the day that I am home, you are in my arms, and I can show you my true love, I will forever be loving you from afar.

-Cullen

Gabrielle sat in silence for a moment, her mind upon the beautiful words she just read. It had been a long time since she appreciated beauty or love. She’d felt them, she’d felt everything, but she had not actually paused to take them in.

As her fingers rolled over the page, the second letter peaked from beneath it. Gabrielle drew the letter out and unfolded the paper. She was expecting more poetic words, but something struck her as off. The paper was not the same. It was much cleaner, lighter than the first and roughly crinkled.

As she opened the letter and flattened it with her palm, the first thing she saw were areas of smudged writing. It looked like the letter had gotten wet. Leaning closer to the light, Gabrielle squinted and focused on the words before her.

Dearest Madame,

It is with great sadness and regret that I am informing you of the loss of one of our bravest sons in the fight against tyranny and hatred. On the fields of Gettysburg, on which we lost many good soldiers, your husband, Cullen Howard, gave his life to protect the freedoms of a people who could not protect themselves.

He was a friend and leader to all of his men, and of mine. His loss has reverberated through our ranks and he will forever be missed. Our prayers are with you and your family, as well as the families of all those lost.

Respectfully,

Lieutenant James Smith

A tear dripped from Gabrielle’s chin and thudded onto the paper.  It sneaked through the words and off of the edge.

The soul that mingled with hers in this body was mourning the loss of her husband. Hazel’s feelings intertwined with Gabrielle’s feelings and even though Gabrielle was able to have her own thoughts and actions, she was still bound by the spirit that belonged to this body.

A flash of lightning tore Gabrielle away from these thoughts. Wiping her face, she crawled to the edge of the bed and placed her feet upon the cold floor.

As she stood, she could tell she was taller than she’d been in her previous lives. Her long arms and legs showed lean muscle and rough calluses covered her hands.

The old floor creaked as Gabrielle crossed the room and peered out of the window. Aside from her own reflection, all she could see was a river of black.

She brought her hands to her hair and twisted a thin lock of her black hair around her fingers. She rubbed the pads together, feeling the strands of thick hair before letting it fall down to her waist. 

A droplet of rain ran down her reflected face, connecting the dark freckles as if they were a strange puzzle. Gabrielle was happy to see she had freckles in this life, it reminded her of what her real face looked like and brought her a sense of comfort.

With only intermittent flashes of lightning, Gabrielle could tell little about where she was. She seemed to be on the second or third floor of a building, and the land before her looked wide open and flat.

After a few moments, Gabrielle turned and walked to the doorway of the room. Pressing her cheek against the frame of the door in anticipation of what may lie ahead, she opened it, careful not to make a sound.

The dim lighting from the hallway cast a warm glow across Gabrielle’s face. She paused and peered down the hall, listening for any other signs of life. Only the distant static of rain and whistling wind could be heard.

Gabrielle placed one timid foot into the hallway. She was at the end of a long corridor, with doors running the length on either side. Small paintings hung from the walls. Splashes of paint came together to reveal what vaguely looked like flowers, the crude paintings nothing like what she’d become used to seeing in the Palace of Versailles.

Keeping quiet, Gabrielle made her way down the hall, freezing with every creak and groan from the wooden floor.

She didn’t attempt to open any of the doors she passed; figuring that if it was the middle of the night, waking strangers would do neither her nor them any good.

As Gabrielle reached the top of a set of stairs, a familiar smell crept into her nose. A sweet smell of tea and honey assaulted her scenes, bathing her in a fog of nostalgia.

At the base of the stairs sat a door. Light on the other side shot around the cracks, illuminating the entrance like it was some sort of mystical sign. Gabrielle considered what might be waiting for her. Seldom had she searched around at night and found anything other than Arawn waiting for her in the shadows.

Reflexively, she felt her bracelet for any signs of warning. It was cold. She’d been through enough to trust in the fact that when there was a certain type of danger, she would be warned. Keeping her eyes glued to the door and one sweaty hand wrapped around her bracelet, Gabrielle finished the descent and placed her hand upon the door.

Light broke from the cracks in the door for a flickering moment. She stepped back as she realized there was someone on the other side.

Gabrielle closed her eyes and listened for signs of what or who stood on the other side. Muffled sounds of shuffling and objects being moved about were the only things that could be heard.

She rubbed the bracelet. Taking a deep breath, Gabrielle clenched her right hand into a fist, and pushed the door open.

II

THE WARM LIGHTING, sweet smell of tea, and the lived-in appearance of the organized yet messy kitchen, brought back such strong feelings of familiarity that Gabrielle clasped one hand over her mouth.

The smell of fresh herbs mixed with the aroma of the fire brought a longing pain that sat heavy in her stomach. Gabrielle’s gaze stopped at a large table in the center of the room. A woman sat at the table deep in thought, unaware of Gabrielle’s presence.

Gabrielle watched the woman stare into a cup of tea, stirring it idly. The woman looked to be in her twenties, with beautiful dark skin and thick, black hair that drifted down her ears and covered half of her face.

Gabrielle let her eyes wander from the woman’s high cheeks, down her neck and to her hands. The long, slender fingers were mesmerizing as they stirred the tea.

As she watched the elegant fingers go around and around, Gabrielle caught a glimpse of something. A glint of a silver necklace stood out like a single star in the night sky as it ran down the girl’s neck and disappeared between her cleavage.

Gabrielle wracked her brain to remember where she’d seen the chain before. The woman shifted, bringing her attention to the fire.

Gabrielle backed up so she was completely hidden by the shadow of the door.

As the woman brought her head up, Gabrielle took in every detail. Two beautiful, violet eyes peered into the