Gideon's Promise (Sons of Judgment Book 2) (10 page)

M
agnus hadn’t been kidding. The moment Gideon left his room the next morning, Riley and his mother were all over him, asking where it hurt and if they could get him anything. He did his best to maintain his flirtatious behavior even when his heart wasn’t in it, knowing they would only worry more if he didn’t. His mother bought it. Riley ... not so much.

“Okay, I don’t believe you,” she said. “You’re lying.”

Gideon rolled his eyes. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“Yes, actually,” she replied. “The time you told me—”

He put up a hand, halting her in mid speech, knowing full well she was about to use all ten fingers and all ten toes to count the number of times he’d pulled one over her.

“It’s hardly my fault I was blessed with this angelic face that so easily fools tender hearts,” he countered and earned a hard poke in the gut.

Riley frowned at him with no real heat. “You’re shameless, Gideon Maxwell.”

He straightened. “Why yes, yes I am.”

Abandoning her to finish reloading the napkin dispensers, he walked into the kitchen where Gorje, their cook and a Raver, grunted his greeting as Gideon passed by. He grinned as he remembered trying to explain to Riley that Raver wasn’t Gorje’s last name, but his occupation. It had taken nearly an hour to explain what a Raver was and why it was best never to eat anything he cooked on Wednesdays.

“Then why is he your cook?” she had asked in that bossy tone of hers.

“Just because
we
don’t live on decomposed flesh doesn’t mean some of our customers don’t,” he’d explained. “Gorje is the best one to handle dishes like that.”

Riley had turned a nasty shade of green. “He cooks decomposed flesh?”

“Well, not
only
and only on Wednesdays!”

But it was no good. After that, Riley refused to stay anywhere in the same room as Gorje, which served Gorje just fine since he spent a great deal of time treating her like she were invisible.

“Gideon.” His mother cornered him just as he was climbing the stairs to the back of the house. She was waiting for him on the top landing. “How are you?”

He spread his arms open wide to show her all of him. “Never better.”

Her cool, blue eyes roamed over him, taking in his scuffed boots and pursing her lips. “You need new boots.”

Gideon rolled his eyes, barely suppressing his chuckle. “They’re comfortable.”

“And filthy.”

“Comfortable,” he repeated, moving to join her at the top. “Stay away,” he warned her. “I know what you’re plotting.”

Her tiny chin jerked up and she tried to portray an air of ignorance, but she could never pull it off.

“I have no idea what you could possibly mean.”

“I mean,” he poked her lightly in the side and got a swatting. “I don’t want you sneaking into my room and tossing them out when I’m sleeping ... like you used to!”

Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were dancing with the laughter she was failing miserably to conceal, but she mashed her lips together tightly. “I never did any such thing.”

Gideon snorted as he walked around her towards the hall. “Oh, I forgot, the shoe fairies took them so they can patch them up.” He laughed when the color in her cheeks darkened. “How long did you think I would believe that story?

“It’s not a story,” she grumbled.

Laughing he walked away, calling over his shoulder, “Hands off, lady!”

He strode to his room and reached for the doorknob when the door across from his opened and a small, dark haired figure stepped out. Gideon froze, his mind unable to process fast enough what his eyes were showing him.

“Valkyrie?”

She was better at composing herself. The surprise in her blue eyes vanished as swiftly as the wall appeared, blocking her from him.

“You’re awake.” She stepped into the corridor with him and shut the door behind her. “I knew that thick skull of yours would mend quickly.”

Her hair was damp. It was swept away from her face and bunched in a dark, shiny ponytail down her back. Her jacket was off and she stood before him in a sports bra and black tights. There were sneakers in the place of her ass kicking boots and her makeup consisted only of eyeliner and nothing else, leaving her face open and young. It reminded him of the days when things had been simple between them.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Didn’t your mother tell you?” she asked instead, finely plucked eyebrow lifting in an almost mocking challenge.

Gideon tried to remember if his mother, Riley, or Magnus had made a single mention of Valkyrie and any reason why she would be in one of the spare rooms, and came up empty handed.

“It must have slipped her mind,” he muttered, making a mental note to kick his brother in the ass.

Squaring her shoulders like she was getting ready to take down an opponent, she said, “Your parents think that until we locate and vanquish those responsible it would be best if we join temporary forces. Father agrees. I’ll be staying here until that happens.”

Stay? At Final Judgment? In his home? Living across the hall where he would see her every day?

Not happening.

Turning on his heels, he marched back to the main part of the house, determined to find someone, anyone, and make them fix this. She couldn’t be allowed to stay. His sanity would never survive it.

He ran into his father first.

“Gideon, good to see you up—”

“She can’t stay here,” he said before his father could get another word in. “I’ll put in overtime. I will hunt night and day until we find the force behind the attacks, but she needs to go.”

She
was standing behind him. He didn’t need to look to know she was there. Her presence was a red, hot poker pressing between his shoulder blades.

His father looked up from the papers in his hand, his eyes wide with bewilderment. “Gideon, whatever personal feelings you might have towards this matter—”

“That isn’t—”

“You need to put them aside!” his father finished sharply. “This isn’t about you. This is about our people being slaughtered in their homes. It is our duty to protect them. If we must join forces with the devil himself to accomplish that task, then so God help me, we will.”

The bang of his fist on the table had Riley and Imogen’s heads coming up from several feet away. He paid them no attention.

“You don’t understand!” he hissed, keeping his voice as low as humanly possible. “She can’t stay here.”

Setting the papers down, his father met his gaze squarely. “You are being horribly rude, Gideon. Valkyrie is a guest and a fellow Caster. This is as much her home as it is ours.”

Snarling in frustration, Gideon threw himself away from the table, barely restraining the urge to upend the thing in the process. He felt the familiar touch of his mother’s hand on his arm, but he wrenched away and threw himself out the front doors into the cool, spring afternoon. The forestry around Final Judgment rustled with the breeze. Their quiet whispers only infuriated him further, like they were mocking him somehow.

Magnus should have told him. All that crap about keeping his promise and not doing anything stupid, well he should have thought to warn Gideon that his only weakness would be living under the same roof. Maybe then, he wouldn’t have been blindsided by the news.

The doors opened behind him and he felt the warm wash of her presence sweep over him. He didn’t turn, not even when the soft clip of her footsteps alerted him to her approach. She said nothing as she pushed passed him and took off at a sprint across the parking lot, her ponytail a dark pendulum swinging at her back.

Gideon watched her jog out of sight and prayed to whoever was listening that he got through this without doing something irretrievably stupid.

D
inner that evening was practically a funeral march, somber and quiet with only the clink of silverware on ceramic interrupting the silence. Gideon wouldn’t have even bothered coming down, except his mother had threatened him with bodily harm—and guilt.

Reggie sat on his right with their father on Gideon’s left. Their mother and Magnus sat across from them with Octavian on Magnus’ other side. Riley sat next to him with Imogen in the seat next to her. Valkyrie was on Reggie’s left. Only one seat away from Gideon.

His mom had made coddle, an Irish dish consisting mostly of leftovers floating in a stew of potatoes and onions. It wasn’t one of his favorites, but it wouldn’t have mattered even if it had been. He had no appetite.

“We should discuss a strategy for tonight,” said Magnus.

Their father and Valkyrie agreed. Gideon speared a potatoe with his fork.

“No business talk at the table!” their mother reprimanded almost immediately.

“But, darling, this is important,” his father insisted.

“No business!” she repeated, warning him with her eyes not to push the matter. “Dinner is family time. We should talk about our day.”

No one thought that was a very good idea considering Gideon’s outburst, but no one said so.

“Well,” Riley ventured cautiously. “I caught a rabbit today.”

“And she didn’t let it go,” Magnus agreed, sounding as close to proud as his brother ever could.

“That’s wonderful, Riley!” their mother said.

Gideon wondered if that was what was filling her steaming mug. Since strigoi didn’t eat food, Riley only had her drinking mug at dinner times. Usually it was filled with the synthetic blood some scientist on the strigoi payroll had invented. It was supposed to be like the real thing without the need for a human donor. The only problem was that it couldn’t be drank cold. The contents were more jelly than liquid. It could only be boiled into the perfect consistency.

Unfortunately, the packs weren’t enough. As temporary solutions went, they were great if a strigoi was in a tight bind. But fresh, human blood was mandatory. Except, Riley refused to drink from humans. It had taken Magnus three months to finally convince her to even drink from animals. So if she had finally made a successful hunt, Gideon was happy for her.

“I’m actually very happy to hear that,” their mother went on, setting her spoon delicately down in her bowl. She smiled at Riley, then at Imogen. “I was thinking we could take Imogen shopping tomorrow for some new clothes.”

“What?” Imogen and Riley said at the same time.

“Well, it’s just that you’ve been wearing Riley’s clothes the last few days and I thought maybe you would like a few outfits of your own.”

“I don’t mind,” Riley said a little desperately. “Really. It’s fine.”

Imogen, however, had other ideas. “Really? We can go to an actual store?”

His mom nodded, smiling as big as Imogen’s eyes. “We could make a day of it. Maybe get our hair done and our nails—”

“I can’t,” Riley blurted. She’d lost all the color in her face, except for her lips which were still painted a bright red from the blood. “It’s too dangerous. You guys go. Have fun.”

Mom’s smile dimmed. Then vanished all together. “Riley, you can’t stay locked up in this place forever.”

“I know, but—”

“Mom’s right, Green-eyes,” Octavian murmured. He placed a gentle hand on her arm. “You have to at least try.”

She started to shake her head. “What if I hurt someone? What if I lose control like I did before and...?”

“You should have a trial run,” Valkyrie said from across the table. “You can bring that twiggy girl back here and—”

“No!” Reggie said before anyone could guess who
twiggy
girl was. “You’re not using Daphne as some kind of guinea pig to test your theory.”

Valkyrie shrugged. “You’re right. It’s only a matter of time before another human just waltzes in here. That seems to be the trend after all.”

“Valkyrie has a point though—”

“What?” Reggie growled.

Their father put up a hand, stopping him. “I only mean that we should break Riley in slowly. I think a full day of shopping might be a bit too much.” He shot his wife a sheepish smile. “But maybe if we took her somewhere small, somewhere we could watch her and intervene if anything should happen, like a park, perhaps.”

“A park might be too open,” Octavian said. “I think the best place would be here at Final Judgment. It’s contained and Riley feels safe here.”

“And how do you suppose we get a human here?” Magnus wondered. “Especially since it’s against the law to begin with.”

“Like I said...” Valkyrie said dryly. “You already have—”

“And I said no!” Reggie interjected. “No one is going near Daphne.”

“It makes sense though,” Magnus argued. “Riley knows Daphne and she’ll fight twice as hard not to hurt her.”

“We’ll all be there, Reg,” Octavian added soothingly. “We won’t let anything—”

“Screw you guys!” Reggie leapt out of his seat, sending it skidding back a full two feet. “You would never agree if we were talking about putting Riley’s life in danger. You won’t even leave the manor because you’re afraid something might happen to her, and she’s the strongest one of us! But you’re all perfectly fine with using my mate as bait. Well, over my dead fucking body!”

“Reggie’s right,” Riley murmured quietly. “I won’t risk Daphne’s life.”

“Okay.” Their father put his hands up, demanding silence from the group. “We will just come up with another plan.”