Rage and Redemption (Rebel Angels) (17 page)

He could take her to Gabriel.

And confess what he had done?

Never.

The scriptorium then. He gently supported her against his chest as he pulled her clothing on over her head. Donning his own tunic was nearly as awkward but somehow he managed. He tugged on his hose and pulled on his boots, unable to drag his gaze away from her still form.

He lingered a moment longer, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers. This must never happen again. As much as the thought distressed him, it must end tonight.

He had to let her go.

Surrounding her with mist as he surrendered his corporeal form, he swept her along with him. Through the darkness, through the night, to the scriptorium in the southeastern tower.

He lit a single lamp and glanced about the small chamber. The only area not cluttered with tables was near the window. Sitting her against the wall, he carefully leaned her into the corner and went to work. Retrieving her cloak from its peg by the door, he spread it on the floor and arranged her upon it.

He pressed his lips to her temple and carefully removed the memory of their encounter, replacing it with other images. She would remember falling ill soon after Gabriel left and feeling too weak to return to the dormitory or summon assistance.

Tucking the cloak around her legs, he stared at her for a long moment.

Cold objectivity protected him from the world, but he couldn’t be objective with Naomi. He couldn’t think of her as irrelevant, expendable—human.

Even now, he ached with the need to hold her, to shelter her, to lose himself in her goodness. It couldn’t go on. The only way to protect her—and rid himself of these desires—was to stay away from her.

He glared at the lamplight and it sputtered out. Inhaling her scent as the darkness embraced him, Gideon leapt from the window to the courtyard below.

Unfamiliar emotions expanded within him as he moved through the shadows. The subtle warmth of passion shifted and intensified but he couldn’t identify what he was feeling. It had been so long. This was tenderness, he realized suddenly and—he was happy!

Why would the thought of leaving Naomi make him happy?

Because it is the first selfless thought you have had in nearly a hundred years.

A smile parted his lips.

If Naomi could accept what he was, if she could look beyond the resentment and the rage… Hope tore through him and Gideon groaned.

Nay! He couldn’t allow himself to think like that. She must never learn the true nature of his punishment. He couldn’t bear to see the inevitable horror in her eyes.

Sharp, burning pain stabbed through his abdomen, driving the breath from his lungs. He bent over, clutched his stomach and collapsed to his knees. Like a wind-fueled wildfire, the sensations expanded, radiating outward from his belly to his chest and down his arms.

Panic seized him. He couldn’t breathe!

He had to do something—anything—to ease the violent cramping. Rocking forward, he retched into the dirt. He heaved in long, draining spasms until every drop of Naomi’s blood was purged from his body.

Rolling away from the mess, Gideon lay flat on his back, trembling uncontrollably. He bent his legs and threw his forearm over his eyes.

What did it mean?

He drew slow, deep breaths into his body and exhaled them even more slowly.

Why had his body rejected her blood?

Or had her blood rejected his body?

This didn’t make sense. He’d never reacted this way with anyone else. He
had
to feed to live.

Struggling to sit up, he shoved his hair out of his eyes and groaned.

“You’ve looked better, my friend.”

Gideon’s head snapped to the side and a violent shudder shook him. He could sense the entity, but it was not visible. “Show yourself, you coward, or is spying from the shadows all you know?”

“I didn’t want to frighten Naomi or I would have revealed myself sooner.” As the creature spoke, his form solidified.

“Domieno?” Gideon whispered incredulously.

He hadn’t seen his friend since before the Fall. The transformation was subtle but unmistakable. Domieno’s long, pale hair hung to his shoulders in lank strands where before it had flowed in golden waves. The shape of his body, tall and lithe, seemed unchanged, but his eyes—his demonic nature burned with malevolent intensity within his soulless eyes.

“It’s been a long time, my friend,” Domieno said.

Gideon stared at his onetime companion and the conflict within him raged. His fingers dug into the dirt and his muscles tightened and rippled. “Why are you here?”

Domieno strolled toward him. “To help you find peace.”

Each step he took made Gideon more restless. Clamoring and clawing, the evil in Gideon reached out for Domieno. Yet revulsion and abhorrence intensified with equal fervor until Gideon had to turn his face away.

He fought down the bile rising again to his throat, sucking in great gulps of air.

“You’re being torn apart and it does not have to be like this.” Domieno spoke in a soft, silky tone. His words slid across Gideon’s senses, drugging him, coercing him. “It’s only painful because you fight it. You’re one of us already. You need only accept it, surrender to it.”

Gideon enjoyed the intoxication for a moment, allowed it to ease the conflict, to soothe him. It was so tempting.

“Get thee behind me, demon! You have no place here!” Gabriel’s sharp command snapped Gideon out of his stupor.

Domieno hissed and his features fluctuated grotesquely as his demonic nature surged. “That is for Gideon to say, messenger!”

Gabriel helped Gideon to his feet. Gideon felt a warm, comforting tingle flow out from the seemingly casual touch and realized Gabriel was strengthening him.

“I will not Fall, Domieno.” Gideon shook away the last of the demon’s spell. “My choice was made long ago.”

“Join us, brother,” Domieno said. “We’ve missed your company. Lucifer has so much more to offer someone with your abilities.”

Gabriel took a threatening step forward. “He gave you his decision. Now be gone! I find your stench revolting.”

“You have always been content as a mindless slave, but some of us have the ability to think for ourselves. Lucifer will not give up on Gideon. He will take his place among us as he should have long ago! This is far from over, errand boy,” Domieno sneered. Then he turned to Gideon. “We’ll meet again.”

Gideon waited until the demon disintegrated before revealing his weakness. He stumbled and then fell to one knee, bracing himself against the ground.

Pulling him back to his feet, Gabriel stretched Gideon’s arm across his shoulders. “What ails you?”

Gideon laughed but didn’t speak.
I drank from Naomi and the purity of her blood didn’t agree with me.
Gabriel would leave him in the darkness to rot if he made such a confession.

Crispin hurried across the upper bailey, drawn instinctively by Gideon’s peril. “Is he ill?” he asked. “What happened?”

Gabriel supported much of Gideon’s weight while Crispin pulled his other arm across his shoulders. Gideon trembled between them, his head sagging forward. His vision spun sickeningly.

“What do you need? What is amiss?” his brother asked.

“Take me…below,” he managed to say, though his mouth tasted of ash.

“Did Domieno do this to you?” Anger hardened Gabriel’s musical voice.

He didn’t have the strength to shake his head. Violent tremors racked his body and the toes of his cross-gartered boots dug furrows in the dirt. They dragged him toward the stairwell leading to the undercrofts of the castle.

Gideon moaned as they lowered him to the furs in his secret chamber. Heat rippled through him then cold. His muscles continued to spasm, milder cramps, more diffused but undeniably painful.

“What do you need?” Gabriel asked again.

Crispin knelt, putting his wrist within easy reach. Revolted, Gideon turned his face away.

“Rest.” He forced the word past his parched lips. “I need to sleep.”

Gideon’s eyes began to close when Gabriel’s sudden motion drew his attention. His brother reached past Crispin and dragged something metallic from beneath Gideon’s shoulder.

Naomi’s girdle.

His eyes flew to Gabriel’s.

“Where is she?” he demanded, his voice tight, his expression not quite concealing his fury.

“In the scriptorium,” Gideon whispered, and closed his eyes.

* * * * *

Naomi felt arms slip beneath her and gently lift her into the air. “Gideon,” she murmured, and forced her eyes open.

“Nay, ’tis I,” Brother Gabriel whispered. “Why are you sleeping on the floor, child? What do you remember?”

She looped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m not sure. Everything is…confused.”

“Can you sit or shall I take you to the infirmary?”

“Just give me a moment.” Why were her thoughts so muddled?

Brother Gabriel sat her on the stool in front of the supply table. The image of Gideon sitting there with his foot propped on the cross rung of the other stool flashed through her mind.

“Was Gideon here?”

“Do you remember him being here?”

She shook her head and rubbed her eyes with her fingertips. “I’m not sure. Was he here when you arrived?”

“Nay,” he said firmly. “You were alone. The door was bolted from the inside.”

“That would not have stopped Gideon.”

“True. Think back. What do you remember?”

She poured herself a cup of cider and took several sips before answering. “You brought me this basket and insisted I eat.” She paused for another sip. “I think something made me ill. My head is pounding.”

“You look unusually pale. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the infirmary?”

“Nay. I will be fine.”

Her knees wobbled unsteadily as she pushed to her feet. She grasped the edge of the table, waiting for the weakness to pass. The muscles along her neck and shoulders felt especially stiff so she rolled her head and shrugged her shoulders.

Brother Gabriel gasped. Her eyes darted to him, but his gaze was fixed on her throat. He reached out, his fingers trembling, and gently touched her skin.

“What?” she asked. “What is it?”

His warm brown eyes locked with hers but he didn’t answer. “Are you sure you feel well enough to walk?”

Her gaze narrowed on his face. She knew this game all too well. “What is wrong with my neck? Tell me now.”

She watched his throat work as he struggled to swallow. The golden shards in his eyes glistened but he answered her. “Your skin bears his mark.”

Naomi felt her neck but she could detect nothing with her fingertips. “What mark? What do you mean?”

“Come. Let us get you to the dormitory.”

He reached for her arm but she jerked away. “What did he do to me? What mark?”