Gideon's Promise (Sons of Judgment Book 2) (25 page)

“Mios,” his mother called the thing by name. “You have been granted a fortnight into the mortal realm. You must abide by the Black Laws and cause no harm to humans and you must return at the end of the fortnight. Failure to do so will result in your immediate capture and demise. Do you accept the terms?”

There was a deep grumbling sound that Gideon took to be words. The hooded figure bobbed its head ever so slowly, but only once.

“You must swear it in blood,” his mother said.

The thing offered her its contorted hand, palm up. His mother turned her back and walked to the small table tucked away in the shadows. The thing held an assortment of different instruments, each one crafted to pierce the skin of different creatures. She found the one best suited for the job and returned to the altar. The creature never so much as flinched when she made a small cut over one of its fingers and held out the paper for him to mark. It pressed the wound, now oozing a thick, green substance, in the center of the box marked on the page.

“Thank you,” his mother said, stowing the contract on the bottom of the pile. “Remember, return here in a fortnight.”

The thing inclined its head once before rippling out of sight.

His mother sighed and pushed a tendril of hair off her brow. “One down.”

Gideon checked his watch. “The bar should be open,” he mused.

“You don’t have to stay,” She told him.

He shook his head. “I’m fine. So!” He slapped his hands together and rubbed them. “What unspeakable evil are we unleashing next?”

His mother cast him a dry frown before peering down at the next application.

Once the portal was open, the process was fairly quick. The demon was summoned, the rules were told to them, they gave their blood and left. But despite the tedious routine, Gideon remained vigilant, rigid and watchful, waiting for the slightest flicker to jump between the evil and his mother.

At the last one, his mother moaned in exhaustion and moved to blow out the candles. She exhaled and turned to the table of dirty instruments.

“I should clean these before I start the roll call.”

Gideon moved to dump the tray of blades into the plastic container on the floor next to the metal stand and motioned for his mother to exit the trap door first. At the bottom, they walked in silence back to her office.

“I’ll take these to the kitchen,” he told her. “Wait for me before you head back.”

Mumbling that she would, she moved to her desk to file away the applications and find the ones for the demons returning that night, which was basically the same routine, but backwards. Gideon left to venture downstairs. Gorje was scrubbing the grill when Gideon made it to the kitchen. The raver never glanced up when Gideon dumped the container of blades into the sink and doused them in hot water. He added a sprinkle of trome to disinfect and shut the water off.

Trome, a powerful powder demons used to stop bleeding was dangerous on its own, but a small dash of it mixed with different herbs, sand, and crushed animal bones made an amazing cleaning product. His mother used it on everything with even a speckle of blood on it. Strange thing was, on freshly laundered clothes, it smelled a lot like lemons.

Through the takeout window, he could just make out the distorted shape of leathery wings, steel tipped talons, and the occasional shimmer of iridescent cat eye glowing. Some were searching for a table while others swayed in time to the lazy thrum of music wafting from the stage. Octavian was talking to a couple at the bar. He looked annoyed, which wasn’t so unusual, but he had his palms planted on the wood and was leaning a little too far into their faces. Then, just when Gideon wondered if he needed to step out, Reggie appeared at their older brother’s shoulder. The two exchanged words and Reggie turned to the pair. He said something and the couple rose and shuffled off to find a table.

With them gone, Reggie placed a hand on Octavian’s arm, patted and said something that had Octavian jerking back as though he’d just been touched by a bugger. Then he burst out laughing and punched Reggie in the arm which assured Gideon all was well once more.

Shaking his head with amusement, Gideon turned his attention to the other side of the bar.

Under the torch light, the kieon sisters appeared almost otherworldly in their white gowns and flowing silvery manes as they spilled their magic over the crowd, wrapping them in the velvety whisper of violin, harp, and flute. Unlike the other occupants in the room, the sisters weren’t demons, not fully. There was a rumor that one of their parents had demon blood, but no one was stupid enough to verify it.

Behind him, having finished his scrubbing, Gorje grunted, which was all the warning Gideon was about to get before he was kicked aside out of the other man’s way. One thing the raver had very little of, it was patience, something Gideon took great pleasure in.

He turned, blinked innocently. “Am I in your way, Gorje?”

Standing at an alarming seven feet, eight inches, Gorje glowered. He jerked his massive frame left in his attempt to step around Gideon.

Gideon moved with him. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you need the sink?”

Growling deep in his throat, Gorje shifted left.

Gideon stepped left, blocking him yet again. “Oh dear.” He clicked his tongue. “We seem to be having some miscommunication problems, Gorje.”

The raver stopped. He took a step back and stared at Gideon with a look that would have had most sane people running in the opposite direction, but as Gideon had practically grown up on the giant’s lap, the look wasn’t nearly as intimidating.

“Boy,” Gorje said at last, voice deadly calm. “I don’t care what your mama says, I will cook you in tomorrow’s stew.”

Gideon gasped in mock horror. “You wouldn’t do that, would you, Gorje? Think of all the pretty girls out there who have yet to be ruined by me. You can’t do that to them. It’s just cruel.”

Despite his best attempts to remain unmoving, Gorje’s mouth twitched. He raised a meaty hand instead and smacked Gideon upside the head. He must have been holding back, because it was barely a brush of his fingers over Gideon’s scalp.

“Beat it.”

Rubbing the spot anyway, Gideon sulked. “When did you get so abusive, Gorje?”

“Since you drove me to drink,” the giant muttered. “Now git.”

Making a face at the other man, Gideon ambled out of the way and headed to the store room.

Magnus stood amongst the maze of boxes, looking supremely out of place with his death glare as he filled out a shipment order.

“Hey, captain smiley pants,” Gideon greeted. “You busy?”

“That depends,” Magnus muttered without looking up. “What do you want?”

Gideon slumped a shoulder into the doorframe and folded his arms. “Mom’s doing roll call in a little bit.”

Without waiting for Gideon to finish, Magnus dropped his clipboard onto a nearby box and walked towards him.

“Let’s go.”

They made it as far as the doors leading to the rest of the house when there was a scream followed by the shattering of glass. Magnus, born with the reflexes of some lithe jungle cat, already had his blade out and was sprinting for the dining area. It took a Gideon a second longer to remember he didn’t have his blade, but that didn’t stop him from lunging after his brother.

The room was quiet. The kieon sisters had ceased their playing and everyone was watching the figure on the floor.

Imogen, rosy faced, looked up when the pair barged through the doors. On the floor in front of her lay an upended tray, the contents a shattered mess across the scarred hardwood.

She winced. “I’m so sorry.” She looked down at the small destruction, then at the long gashes on her hands from where she had attempted to scoop the jagged shards of glass back into the tray. “I don’t know...”

Gideon bent down and gently lifted her to her feet. “It’s all right, love,” he said soothingly. “Come on. Let’s clean you up.” He caught Magnus’ eye. “Wait for me?”

“It’s fine.” Magnus looked past him. “I’ll take Reggie. Get her patched up.”

Reggie didn’t even ask where they were going, but followed Magnus silently from the room.

Octavian appeared with a broom and dustpan in hand. “I’ve got this,” he said. “Go.”

With a nod, Gideon ushered Imogen into the kitchen. He pushed her onto a stool and left to dampen a rag at the sink.

“You okay?” he asked, returning to her side.

“Yes...” She winced when he took her right hand and gently rubbed at the gashes. “I’m such a klutz.” She looked up into his face, her blue eyes cloudy with fear. “Your mother is going to be so upset. She trusted me to help and I—”

Gideon snorted, head still bent over his task. “Trust me, a few broken dishes won’t upset her. You getting yourself hurt ... that’s a different story.” Right hand as clean as it was going to get, he reached for the left and repeated the process. “Once I get these clean, I’ll run up and grab the ointment. I just want to make sure there’s no glass before we patch you up.”

Imogen sniffled what sounded like a chuckle. “That would just be my luck.”

Reaching up absently, she swiped back a strand of hair that had escaped the braid falling down her back and tucked it behind her ear. She didn’t notice the smear of red her hand left behind on the tendril.

Gideon nimbly untucked the strand and gently cleaned the blood off before sweeping it back and hooking it around her ear just as the back door swung open and Valkyrie stomped in freshly showered and dressed in her trademark leather pants, boots, and tight, white t-shirt. She skidded to a halt when her blue eyes landed on them. Her gaze shot from Imogen to Gideon’s hand still brushing stray strands out of the younger girl’s face.

Gideon immediately dropped his hand. But Valkyrie had already straightened her shoulders and was watching him with a look of excruciating indifference.

“Magnus sent me,” she said evenly.

Imogen, who was either very oblivious to the tension hissing through the air or very good at ignoring it, leapt off the stool and turned to the other woman.

“Valkyrie! How are you feeling?”

While most people would be flattered that someone cared enough to ask, Valkyrie squinted at Imogen as though trying to contemplate if the girl needed a slap or not.

“I’ve had worse,” was her only response.

Imogen beamed, her blue eyes sparkling like a kid offered ice cream before supper. “You were amazing!”

Twin flags of pink rose high on Valkyrie’s cheeks, but her expression remained fixed in its perpetual scowl. “Magnus said you hurt yourself.”

Imogen grimaced sheepishly. “It’s nothing.” She raised her palms for Valkyrie to see. “I mean, it’s not like I got stabbed or anything. My mom always said I had two left feet. I’m forever dropping things, or tripping. But the bleeding has stopped so that’s good, right?”

Valkyrie made a humming sound that wasn’t really contemplating, but it wasn’t exactly sympathetic either. “We’ll just have to make sure not to trust you with anything too important, like a sword, or our lives.”

With that, Valkyrie marched through the kitchen and out the doors, leaving Imogen staring after her, visibly stricken.

“Did I say something...?”

Gideon sighed. “No.” He pitched the bloody rag into the sink not soaking his mother’s blades. He washed his hands, dried them and faced her once more. “Valkyrie’s naturally not nice. Don’t let her get to you.” He walked around her. “I’m going to go grab the ointment.”

Leaving her in the kitchen, he headed upstairs.

He made it as far as the base of Michael’s glass stained window on the stairway landing.

“You know, it amazes me what a man-whore you are.”

One hand braced on the railing, Gideon turned to face the vehement growl. He raised an eyebrow as he peered down at Valkyrie, standing at the bottom of the stairs, feet apart, arms folded. She looked fierce and gorgeous.

“It amazes me that you’re surprised,” he countered. “Women are my weakness.”

Her lips pursed into a thin, white line. “And little girls?”

Gideon laughed. “Are you insinuating that I can’t get a real woman?”

Her heels cracked despite the carpet covering the steps as she descended on him, a beautiful bird of prey. Her long, silky mane bounced around her slender shoulders and she flicked it back dismissively as she stood tall and angry before him.

“You are foul!”

Gideon arched a brow. “If you want to apologize, just say so. It’s not necessary to flatter me first. Not that I don’t appreciate it.”

It was almost adorable watching her fight and nearly lose to her temper. Her nostrils flared and he was almost certain he saw her hand twitch towards the daggers concealed in her boots. But her fingers curled into fists instead. Maybe she was going to punch him this time.

“Do you take anything seriously?”

“Of course I do!” Turning on his heel, Gideon started onward up the stairs, knowing full well she would follow. “World hunger, pollution, global warming ... that
Teletubby
with the purse. Why has no one looked into that?” With an exasperated exhale, he shook his head. “If that’s not serious, I don’t know what is.” He started towards his room. “Have you gone to talk to Riley?”

The annoyance was evident in her tone without him having to see it on her face. “Why on earth would I talk to her? She tried to kill me. She’s a danger.”

Gideon stopped walking and turned to her. “Riley’s not dangerous. She’s probably the most non-dangerous creature on the planet.”

“She’s a strigoi,” Valkyrie pointed out. “A soulless monster that feeds on the blood of the innocent. How is that not evil?”

Gideon frowned. “Because this is Riley we’re talking about. She’s my sister, for one. She’s my brother’s mate, for another, and she’s family. We fight. We throw a few punches, but we always make up.”

“She stabbed me,” Valkyrie said tightly.

Gideon shrugged. “And you stabbed me. Apparently, that’s how we show love in this family. So go talk to her.”

Defiantly, she crossed her arms. “I will not apologize to that monster. She came at me ... unprovoked.”

“She was trying to protect me,” Gideon said.