Gabriel's Bookstore Duluth Novels & Stories

If you're reading this, I'm already gone. She looked around the room. "Why would he keep coming back here?" No one answered immediately. Gabriel wandered to the bookshelf. He ran a finger across the dusty spines. "There used to be more books." Sarah looked over. "You remember them?" "I helped carry some of them down here." Rebecca frowned. "You said Claire never let you inside." "She didn't." Gabriel smiled faintly. "I left the boxes outside the door." He pulled out another storybook. Inside the front cover was Claire's handwriting.

Tyler wasn't even paying him attention and he seemed to be enjoying himself considering the fact that he had shopped for about three books in the last twenty minutes. “But seriously, of all the books in the store, you went with self help books?” Gabriel grumbled with a frown. “Who are you trying to better yourself for?” He demanded, his tone mocking. “Gab, if you have something out to say or tell me, lay your cards out on the table now when I still have your time.” Tyler eyed him without turning back and he let out strings of curses beneath his breath that Tyler didn't bother with.

From the wall to the left of the tallest shelves. Gabriel’s head turned slightly, like a dog catching a scent. He walked toward the shelves and ran his hand along the spines, not reading titles, feeling for movement. His fingers paused on a row of old volumes with matching bindings. “You have a secret bookshelf,” I said quietly. Gabriel didn’t answer. He pressed at the edge of a wooden panel beside the shelves. Nothing happened. Then he shifted his hand lower, to a narrow strip of molding that looked no different from the rest. He pushed once—firm, deliberate.

I hadn’t even known a room was back here but seeing the door perched open, my interest is piqued. I poke my head into the dim, lamp-lit room, Gabriel whispering to himself as he skims through a book or two. The walls are shelves, stacked left to tight in old, dusty books, antique and expensive, I’m sure. Most of the titles are about ancient wolves and folklore. He most notice my scent and sits up, his light eyes weary and dazed. “My dear, can I help you with something?” I look over my shoulder, my laptop and files splayed out over his desk where he hasn’t been able to do much work at his own desk for the last few days. “I came by to do a little research, that’s all.”

Working still, lifting his head to smile at me as I came through the door. Made me smile, too. Through more tears. Gabriel leaned suddenly forward and I lunged to support him. His little fingers raced over the page of the book, the words I couldn't read, before he sat back and burbled. Whatever he said, I couldn't make out. But he seemed content. I stood, carried him into the stacks of the archive. Showed him the endless books. Ran one hand over the spines as Gabriel continued to stare in silence.

he asks me discouraged. “Uh, yeah .” “Yeah. Is there a valid reason why I shouldn't be? I chatter and grab one of the two duplicates of the book she's holding and then suddenly turn and walk into the kitchen. Gabriel soon followed me or sat near me on the rocky island, considerably more willing than I to his Righteousness in the reading that seeks us. The air feels heavy, but it could very well be from the nerves and tension running through me from head to toe constantly. I want to relax, I want to start browsing. I flip through the initial two pages to get to the beginning of the first part.

She did—twenty minutes later, still dressed as she had been at the Civil Affairs Bureau. The library was different. It breathed. Dark wood shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, lined with books worn just enough to suggest they had been read. Two leather chairs sat near the window. A wide desk stood at the far end. The air smelled of paper, polish… and something faintly human. Gabrielle stopped at the doorway. For a moment - just a moment - something inside her unclenched. At least, this is a bit comforting. Then she walked in. She moved to the desk and placed both hands flat against its surface, grounding herself.

We finished shopping just before sundown, Gabriel driving back slowly while I read one of the books he had bought me from an antique book store, an eighteenth century romance, hard to read if you weren't use to the language, but I fell in love with it instantly. He shadowed the shopping into the house as we came in through the garage. "I'm home!" I called, finding Theo and Dane in the gym sparring, both sweaty and bloody from healed broken noses and split skin. Gabriel had taken me by Roughnecks to see Xavier, he gave me an apologetic look for ambushing me with the Vampire, I kissed him and made him promise to bring me home the nights dessert special of creme brulee. He'd chuckled, kissing m

"You know, the important stuff. Like, why did you choose this place? And what do you like to do when you're not working?" Gabriel thought for a moment, his eyes scanning the room as he considered the question. "Well, I chose this place because it’s quiet. I used to live in a busy neighborhood, but I couldn’t concentrate. I needed space to think, to write. And as for what I do when I’m not working... I spend time with my thoughts. I read a lot, or I’ll go for walks. Simple stuff, really." Lydia nodded, clearly fascinated by his answer. "I get that. I mean, I don’t have a house of my own yet, but I spend a lot of time in my apartment just reading or cooking. I think there’s something peaceful

I glanced at Xander, searching his eyes for any signs of anger or betrayal, but what I saw was a mix of emotions—shock, curiosity, and a flicker of hope. Slowly, Xander motioned for Gabriel to enter, and the three of us retreated to the library once more. The fire crackled, casting a warm glow upon our faces as we settled into the comfortable silence, the weight of this unexpected reunion settling upon our shoulders. Gabriel began to speak, his voice tinged with both remorse and determination. He shared the story of his departure, of the circumstances that had torn him away from Xander's life and plunged him into a world of secrecy and danger. He spoke of his yearning to reconnect, to bridge