Gideon's Promise (Sons of Judgment Book 2) (37 page)

Drying her hands quickly, Imogen accepted the shake with a shy smile. “It was nice to meet you, too.”

With a final grin for Imogen, Daphne turned her attention back to Gideon. “Keep him safe for me, will you?”

He didn’t need to ask who she was referring to.

“I will.”

Her smile wasn’t nearly as bright now. There was a shine to her eyes, but she kept the curve on her lips. It trembled once before she squared her shoulders.

“Take care.”

With a wave of her hand, she took a step back and started for the swinging doors. She pushed through and it clapped closed behind her. A full second later, the backdoor opened again and Reggie walked out. His gaze moved over the kitchen, over Gideon and then Imogen.

“That way,” Gideon told him, jerking a thumb over his shoulder towards the dining area.

With a nod between gratitude and understanding, Reggie crossed the room in three long strides and followed Daphne’s path.

Imogen slid a cup across the table to Gideon, disrupting the silence with the harsh grate of ceramic against marble. Gideon blinked and focused on the task at hand.

“What’s the deal with them?” Imogen wondered.

Gideon inhaled and exhaled heavily. “The same thing that’s the deal with all of us—life.”

Brows furrowed in puzzlement, Imogen didn’t press for an explanation. She didn’t have to. Voices rose through the pickup window, indicating that Reggie had caught up to Daphne.

“Why did you never tell me?” Reggie was asking.

“Why would I?” Daphne countered. “You made it perfectly clear that you wanted nothing from me.”

“You know why!” Reggie retorted sharply. “Why is it so hard for you to understand I’m trying to protect you?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Reggie. You tell me I need to stay away, so when I start living my life without you, you demand to know why I never told you. You can’t have it both ways.”

“I just never expected that you were going to leave the country,” Reggie answered. “Connecticut is far!”

There was a full breath of silence before Daphne spoke again. Her voice was tight, like she was struggling not to cry.

“I need to go!” she ground out. “I need to get away from you, Reggie. I refuse to be one of those girls that gets obsessed over a guy that doesn’t want them and if I stay, I will never have a real life. I will just sit in that house and wait for you to finally accept that we belong together.”

“Daph—”

“Don’t!” The floorboards creaked. Gideon assumed one of them, possibly Daphne, had taken a step back. “You’re not good for me. It took a long time for me to finally get it, but I realize it now. You will always push me away and ... I can’t keep chasing you. I won’t. I want a guy who wants me as much as I want you and you said yourself you can never give me that.” She sniffled. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?” The single word was barely audible.

“That you’ll take care of yourself. That you’ll be happy, not just for me, but for you and I hope you find someone who—”

“Stop...”

Daphne ignored him. “Who is worthy of your love.” There was a pause. “I’m never going to forget you, Reggie.”

There was a click and the sound of the door closing. Then there was silence, a deep, heart wrenching silence that made Gideon ache. He stared down at the glass and rag in his hands, wishing there was something he could do.

The quiet clink of silverware sinking through a soapy foam and hitting the stone bottom of the sink pulled his attention away from the paralyzing pain on the other side of the wall. Gideon looked away. The cup made a soft clunk when he set it down and took a step away from it.

“You okay?” Imogen cast him a curious glance.

“Yeah.” He rubbed viciously at his brow with the tip of his fingers. “It’s been a rough few months.” He blew out a breath. “Also, dishes depress me.”

Imogen laughed. “At home, my job was potato peeling. Well, any peeling. Mom would put buckets of anything peel-able in front of me, hand me a knife and tell me to get on it.” She withdrew her hands from the dishwater and held them up for Gideon to see her scarred palms. “My sister used to say I had fisherman hands.”

Snorting, Gideon took up the glass he had set aside and dried it. “I knew fishermen when I lived in Nova Scotia for a time. Their hands were bigger. You have little guppy hands.”

Imogen laughed and went back to scrubbing dishes.

It amazed Gideon how big the dish pile was when ten people had dinner. He almost felt sorry for Reggie, and sometimes Magnus when it was their turn to do dishes, which was often, because Gideon practically decapitated himself trying to get out of that particular chore. Or any chore really. Cruel, manual labor just wasn’t good for his complexion.

“Do you think everyone’s gone to bed?” Imogen asked as she followed Gideon up the stairs.

Gideon checked his watch. “Unlikely. Well, Riley and Octavian may have. Although whether or not they’re sleep ... that’s another matter.”

Imogen wrinkled her nose. “Please don’t tell me that. I still have to look Riley in the eye every day.”

“And you can’t knowing she—?”

“Ah!” She slapped both hands over her ears. “Please stop.”

Gideon laughed. “Aw, I haven’t made anyone in this family blush in much too long. Thank you for that.”

Fighting back a grin behind a scowling mask, Imogen narrowed her eyes at him. “Happy I could help.”

True to his assumption, the others were awake and gathered in the parlor. Riley and his mother sat by the table next to the window, laughing over something Riley was saying. His father and Octavian were on the sofas, a chess game open on the coffee table between them. Magnus and Valkyrie sat on Octavian’s sofa, still whispering to each other. Everyone glanced up when Gideon walked in, followed by Imogen. But his gaze was on his brother and his mate.

“Finished?” his mother asked as Imogen pulled a seat up next to her and Riley.

Not requiring his response, Gideon moved to dump his frame into the sofa across from the Magnus and Valkyrie.

“What’s all the whispering about?” he asked. “Not planning to rob a bank are you?”

Magnus and Valkyrie exchanged glances.

“Just talking,” Magnus said with an offhand shrug.

Gideon narrowed his eyes. “You guys have been just talking a lot lately.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Valkyrie questioned.

Gideon wasn’t the jealous type, and definitely never when it came to his brothers. Immortality was just too long for that. But the amount of time the two were spending, heads bent close ... was beginning to grate on his nerves.

Magnus must have sensed the dangerous line he was pushing against, because he straightened his shoulders and replied evenly, “We’re talking strategy and defense.”

Gideon frowned. “Strategy and defense against what?”

“Capturing those responsible,” Valkyrie chimed in.

“If we can find a pattern between the victims, something that made them targets, we might be able to pinpoint the next ones to be hit,” Magnus added.

“Uh huh...” Gideon sat back. “And what have you learned?”

The two shared an almost sheepish glance.

“We’re still discussing it,” Magnus muttered. “So far, from what we’ve gathered, they’re veil creatures.”

Gideon drummed an anxious beat on the worn fabric of the sofa’s armrest and squinted at his brother as his own mind circled.

“That isn’t all,” he mumbled at last.

“Did you think of something?” Magnus asked.

Gideon pursed his mouth, curling down the corners. “No ... but I think I know who we can ask.”

V
alkyrie didn’t ask why he was there when he slipped into her bed that night. She didn’t push him away when he reached across the space separating them and settled a hand over the one she had resting flat on the mattress between them.

T
he southern boarders were a tangled maze of knotted roots, bowed branches, and a fog that never lifted no matter what time of the day, season or year it was. It hummed with a silence that made Gideon shift uneasily. It was as though the very ground was holding its breath, waiting for something.

“It’s official,” Magnus muttered from Gideon’s right. “You’re insane.”

There were numerous things Gideon could have said that were witty and cocky and probably expected, but part of him was hoping someone else would think of a better idea before they were forced to venture any closer. 

No one did. Not even Valkyrie, who stood just over his left shoulder with one hand on the sword she had strapped to her hip. Her long, leather duster concealed it from the steady flow of traffic roaring over the expressway behind them.

Eons ago, before man became obsessed with cars, skyscrapers, and porn, the south was a lush, wild place. Gideon had been there once, decades before humans even knew what a highway was, back when horses were the only mode of transportation and the air smelled clean. Now it reeked of exhaust, pollution, and ... sex?

Interest perked, Gideon swung a curious glance around at the wheat field at their backs, the wall of trees ahead and the stretch of highway in between. No one, as far as he could see, was having sex, and yet the stench was overwhelming, thick, salty, and humid, like they’d stumbled into an orgy room.

“Do you guys smell that?” he asked the two on either side of him.

“It’s spring,” Magnus answered like that explained everything. He slanted Gideon a glance from the corner of his eye. “The Draconian go into heat in the spring.”

Gideon cringed. “Awesome.”

“We’re wasting time.”

Valkyrie shoved past them and stalked to the edge of the trees. Her coat tail flapped like dark, shiny wings around her long, smooth legs clad in thicker, tighter leather. Twigs and leaves crunched beneath her heels, reminding Gideon of brittle bones snapping. She drew out her sword with a piercing shriek of metal, gripped it firmly at her side, and plunged through a tiny opening.

Gideon pursed his lips in exasperation. “Does she really expect us to follow her through there?”

Saying nothing, Magnus withdrew a hunting knife from some part of his body and stalked after her, leaving Gideon with no choice, but to follow.

He didn’t pull a weapon. It wasn’t that he was brave, or stupid, it was because only the very foolish considered themselves a match for a Draconian and, in his opinion, trudging through their territory armed ... probably sent the wrong message. But he did keep his hands in his pocket, his fingers wrapped around his daggers simply because he wasn’t stupid, or brave.

Ahead, somewhere on his left, he heard Valkyrie plowing her way through. Occasionally, he would catch quick glimpses of her when the trees thinned. But the openings were never large enough for him to get to her if something were to happen, should they get attacked. Magnus was only a few feet ahead of Gideon, and while he knew it was pointless and possibly life threatening to worry about Valkyrie, he couldn’t shake his concern off. She was completely isolated.

It was almost two hundred yards in before the dense forestry finally broke and the tangled chaos became patches. Valkyrie was finally able to join them and Gideon was finally able to breathe properly knowing she was close if something were to happen.

Magnus kept point, leading them through the suffocating wall of humidity that snarled around every labored breath they took. It was choked with the wild scent of flowers, dirt, and wet fur. Together, they muddled the mind. Combined with the wet, sweltering heat, Gideon could feel himself beginning to tire. His limbs ached with exhaustion and he had an overpowering urge to curl up on a bed of moss and sleep.

“We’re close,” Magnus muttered.

“How can you tell?” Gideon wondered.

“The heat,” was all Magnus said.

Gideon was too tired, too sweaty, and too uncomfortable to ask. He was too busy contemplating tearing off his jacket and pitching it aside. The leather collar was chafing the back of his sweaty neck and the whole thing just felt too heavy.

The silence wasn’t so stifling anymore. It no longer felt like they were walking through life deaf. Gideon had never considered the possibility of not being able to hear, but he was definitely certain now that he wouldn’t like it. It was disconcerting. But the deeper in they went, the more he picked up the subtle chirp of insects, the rustle of something slithering through the undergrowth, and the occasional flutter of feathers overhead.

A root caught Gideon’s ankle and he stumbled, barely catching himself on a tree trunk. He swore and straightened. Ahead, Valkyrie stopped and turned to him.

“It’s fine,” he muttered grudgingly. “Just a root.”

With an understanding nod, she started to twist back. She stopped. Her body went rigid. Her eyes narrowed.

“Down!” was all the warning she gave.

Gideon didn’t hesitate. He dropped to the ground, and even that wasn’t fast enough.

He felt the rush of something slice the air inches from the top of his head. It ruffled his hair before hitting its mark with flawless accuracy. The thing behind him shrieked. It hit the ground with a crunching thud of snapping branches and disturbed leaves.