Gideon's Promise (Sons of Judgment Book 2)

by Morgana Phoenix

  Their father nodded. “Show Riley how. I’m sure your mother will appreciate a second set of eyes when you boys aren’t around.”

  Riley’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Really? I can help? I’ve been wanting to ask, but I thought maybe it was a gatekeeper thing and, you know, hush-hush.”

  His father grinned fondly at her.

  It was no secret to anyone that his parents thought the world of Riley. She was the daughter they were never blessed with and it was taking a great deal of restraint on their part not to spoil the hell out of her. The only thing stopping them was how uncomfortable Riley always got when offered a gift. It was also a fact that Riley was starting to go stir crazy cooped up in that big, old house all day, every day, which was probably why his dad was giving her something to do besides wait on tables.

  Riley never complained, and she wouldn’t, especially since she was the one who put herself in isolation. Since her transformation from human to strigoi, she’d gone out of her way to avoid the outside world, not trusting herself not to succumb to her blood thirst and ultimately hurt someone. The last time she’d been within smelling distance of a human, it had been Daphne. It hadn’t gone so well. Since then, she’d been shaky in her own self-control and refused to believe anyone when they told her she was ready to take baby steps into the world again.

  “Kyaerin would love the company.” His father told her before turning his gray eyes to Gideon. “I need you to—”

  The familiar crack of heels slamming into hardwood drew the conversation to a halt as all eyes turned in the direction of the doorway. Gideon recognized the pull deep in the pit of his stomach even before the dark haired beauty charged into the room.

  She wore black jeans that hugged her curves like a lover’s hands and her shit-kicking boots that ran all the way up to her thighs for easy access to her blades. The light from the windows shimmered off the black span of her leather duster as the ends flapped open like great raven wings. Her hair was braided over one shoulder; the end brushed her navel. The tiny indent peeked out enticingly from beneath the tight, form fitting halter in blinding white. Her blue eyes swung over the room at all the occupants. They were tight, shadowed by something that had her full, red lips pressed into a thin line.

  Gideon felt every muscle in his body tense and his fists curled at his sides.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There has been an attack.” Her eyes went from him to his father. “The harpies were attacked last night during a hunt. Their nest was destroyed as well, along with all their unhatched offsprings.”

  “By fire?” Octavian said, before their father could open his mouth.

  Valkyrie narrowed her gaze. “Yes and their bodies were—”

  “Laid out in a row,” Octavian finished for her.

  “Yes ... how—?”

  Rather than answer her, Octavian met his father’s eyes. “I think it’s the same person.”

  “What is?” Valkyrie demanded, never one to be left in the dark. “How do you know all this? I only just found out myself.”

  “We had our own tragic incident last night,” his father said, expelling a deep, burdened sigh. “The banshees were also attacked.”

  Valkyrie’s lips parted. Her eyes went round.

  “My father needs to hear of this.”

  She was gone before anyone could react, vanishing in a swirl of black and purple smoke.

  “Always such a pleasure,” Gideon muttered after her.

  Vaporizing was an underworld trick. All veil creatures and demons could do it. Gideon hated it, hated the nauseous feeling that always followed. He preferred driving whenever possible.

  “It has to be the same person,” Octavian said again. “Or a group.”

  Their father nodded. “I would bet money on a group. Two attacks in a single night? Definitely not the work of a single individual.”

  “It could be random hits,” Riley piped in. “I mean...” She faltered nervously when all focus turned on her. “Say this was a target hit, the person would know how many targets would be in the house, right? He wouldn’t walk blindly into a place not knowing what he’s coming up against, no matter how peaceful his victims may be. He would want to make sure he got everyone to avoid leaving witnesses. So either he didn’t realize there were nine people in the house, or he’s searching for Imogen as we speak.”

  “It has to be targeted,” his father murmured after several seconds of mulling Riley’s logic over. “I would believe random if the harpies hadn’t also been attacked.”

  Riley fell silent.

  “But you do make a very good point, Riley,” he went on. “Whoever did this must know Imogen is still alive. They will come looking for her.”

  Valkyrie took that moment to materialize into the room once more, looking every bit a woman on a mission.

  “My father wishes for an audience.”

  Gideon had only officially met Arild Devereaux once in all his years as a Caster. That single time had been plenty. The man was a bastard, cold, conveying and so warped by the need for power and order that being in the same room with him was pure torture. Yet, when his father asked Gideon to join him, Gideon didn’t say no.

  Arunous, like Final Judgment was tucked into the hollows of an abandoned church yard. It sat surrounded by a tangle of bramble and naked trees all hunched inward like frightened prisoners. The manor itself was an elaborate structure of dull, gray blocks that piled high towards the navy blue sky. Light spilled through the arched windows, but there was no real warmth anywhere in sight.

  A single spacious corridor led them deep into the heart of the Harvester’s domain. Marble gleamed, cold and calculating in all directions. Female guards stood stationed in every five foot intervals and Gideon wondered what exactly Arild was afraid of.

  Valkyrie led the way, her dominating strides precise and alluring. She reminded him of a runway model hitting the stage at some Victoria Secret show. From his place just behind her, he could certainly appreciate the view. Then they reached a set of wide, curved doors, all notions of watching Valkyrie walk ... vanished.

  Arild sat on his high throne, the king of his realm. The damn thing was made of wrought gold and velvet red. It sat upon a high dais, overlooking a somber court of women in battle armor and men in brown sandals and white tunics that slung around their hips and slashed over one shoulder. The absolute silence that permeated the air was disturbing considering the number of bodies within one area.

  Valkyrie marched straight to the foot of the stairs. She pressed the fist of her right hand over her heart and bowed.

  “Father.”

  Arild dropped his luminous blue eyes down the length of his nose and peered at her with a mixture of impatience and boredom.

  “Valkyrie.”

  Valkyrie straightened, dropped her hand and took a slight step to the left. “I’ve brought Liam Maxwell ... and his son, as you requested.”

  The man wasn’t blind, Gideon thought as Arild lifted his gaze and sought out Gideon’s father. There had been a good two minute walk from the door to the throne. The entire room had seen them enter. Yet Arild looked as though he were surprised by their presence.

  “Liam,” he drawled. “You’ve come.”

  His father inclined his head ever so slightly. “You insisted it was urgent.”

  “Yes,” was all Arild said.

  “Have you any idea who is responsible for these attacks?” his father asked.

  “No.” Arild got to his feet, severely overshadowing them. “But this is not the place to discuss it.” He strode down the steps and stopped at the bottom. He fixed his gaze on his daughter. “Take the boy to the armory. We won’t be long.”

  The boy?

  Gideon looked over his shoulder, searching for a child. There was none. Then, when Valkyrie motioned for him to follow her, Gideon was insulted. He hadn’t been a boy in eons!

  “I can see where you get your winning personality from,” Gideon muttered as he followed Valkyrie
from the room, after a warning glance from his father to let it go.

  “My father doesn’t have time to be nice to every riffraff that walks through here.”

  Gideon stared at her. “Riffraff? Excuse me, but you asked us here, remember?”

  “No.” She rounded a corner. “I asked your father here. I’m not sure why you followed.”

  With Reggie gone to the market with Magnus and Octavian refusing to leave Riley’s side that had left Gideon to watch his father’s back. It wouldn’t make sense to a lot of people. It wasn’t as though his father needed protection, but that was the way his family worked. They always stuck together. No one went anywhere alone, especially if it was Caster business.

  Gideon told Valkyrie as much.

  “Well that doesn’t make sense,” she muttered. “You’re a Caster. You shouldn’t need a babysitter.”

  Gideon frowned at her back. “It’s not about needing a babysitter. It’s about not being alone when you’re attacked.” He paused before adding quietly, “It’s about family.”

  Valkyrie seemed to falter at that. Her strides slowed, although they remained clipped. He couldn’t see her face, but he could feel her confusion.

  They walked the remaining distance in silence. She led him deeper into the winding maze until they reached a set of high, arched doors made entirely of bronze. The warped metal glinted under the torch light lit on either side. Valkyrie had to put her entire weight into heaving the things open. They groaned viciously, the sound echoed down the corridor, making it sound even louder than it was.

  She stalked inside. Gideon followed.

  It was a warrior’s dream room. Weapons of all shapes and sizes, of every era, hung like trophies on the walls, sat in glass cases beneath bright lights and were mounted behind iron bars. Final Judgment had an armory, but it was not as impressive as this. Theirs mostly consisted of daggers and swords. Anything with a sharp end, basically. Arild had procured a vast number of guns, knives, and even medieval hammers, bows and arrows, and maces. There was even a guillotine tucked away in one corner next to a door that led deeper into the funhouse.

  “Father believes it’s important to be prepared for anything,” Valkyrie said, as she stepped aside and let Gideon wander through the treasure trove.

  “And what exactly does he expect to use guns on?” Gideon wondered. “It’s not like bullets work in the underworld.”

  Valkyrie straightened her shoulders like he had somehow insulted her. “It’s better to be prepared, then ... don’t touch that!”

  Her warning was ignored. Gideon had already lifted a swallow off the wall and was twirling it effortlessly between his hands. Sparks sliced off the sharp blades on either end of the wooden stick with every flawless whirl.

  “Do you think your father is overcompensating for something?”

  Nostrils flaring, Valkyrie charged forward and lunged to grab the weapon from him. She wasn’t quick enough to stop him when he yanked his arm back, away from her.

  “Will you...” She huffed and leapt for another snatch at him.

  He swung the swallow around his back to his other hand, making her growl and readjust her attack position.

  “That is an antique!” she snapped at him. “It’s not meant to be—”

  “Manhandled?” he cajoled.

  She hissed through her teeth. “I swear if you break that—”

  Gideon clicked his tongue and raised his arm over his head so she had to hop on the balls of her feet to try and reach the weapon.

  “Have you no faith in me at all, woman?” he muttered grudgingly. “One would think you didn’t trust me.”

  “I don’t trust you!” she shot back. “My father spent eons collecting these artifacts. They are the things he loves more than anything in the world!”

  “What?” Gideon laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Panting, Valkyrie stopped her futile attempts. She blew a coil of hair off her face and glowered at him.

  “And why is that?” she huffed.

  Gideon, arm still raised above his head, shrugged. “Because if I were him, this room wouldn’t be the thing I loved most in the world.”

  Chest rising and falling with every ragged breath, she stared at him and Gideon realized the weight of his words. His own chest tightened as he watched the flicker of deliberation behind her eyes.

  “And what would be the thing you loved most, Maxwell?” Her voice was void of its earlier annoyance, yet it still rang with something he wasn’t brave enough to name.

  The corner of his mouth twitched into a humorless grin. “For you to call me Gideon again, for one.”

  The muscles in her jaw tightened even as she drew in a sharp breath. A wall had dropped behind her eyes, blocking him from her.

  “Now, that is ridiculous.”

  She heaved her entire weight into the next jump. Out of pure reflex, Gideon jerked back just as her ankle twisted and she went colliding into him. Caught off guard, neither of them were fast enough to right themselves when they crashed into a wall of Viking swords. The swallow fell from his grasp and struck the floor with a noisy clang as both his hands went around the woman pressed into his chest.

  The alluring scent of night flowers and water lilies drifted off her and enchanted him. It made him wonder if it clung to all of her, or just her hair. It made him want to find out. Instead, his brain was screaming at him to let go before he accidently touched her skin. He had to get away before it was too late and he destroyed both of them.

  Fueled by desperation, he shoved her back to arm’s length and dove around her, escaping to the other side of the room before he could give in to the temptation and keep her where she’d been—locked in his arms.

  Neither of them spoke, or even looked in the other’s direction. He heard her picking up the fallen weapon and replacing it back on the wall. But he stayed grossly fixated on a Beretta M9 until the prickle of her presence became unbearable and he moved deeper into the chamber towards the doorway in the back. He didn’t much care about the workout station on the other side, but he stood and stared like it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

  Coming had clearly been a bad idea. He should have talked Octavian into taking his place. He was just as capable of protecting Riley, not that she needed it. None of them stood a chance against her if it ever came down to it. Yet since the attack, Octavian was almost neurotic about leaving her alone. Gideon couldn’t blame him. Not really. If what happened to Riley ever happened to his mate, he’d be just as afraid. But that didn’t stop him from cursing his older brother.

  “We should discuss what happened,” came Valkyrie’s not quite as assured voice from behind him.

  Gideon turned to face her, wondering if she meant what happened a few moments ago. His insides flipped at the possibility that she might have felt something, even as he nearly winced with dread.

  “I mean about the attacks,” she clarified when he took too long to respond.

  Relief and annoyance reared their heads at the same time as Gideon gave an almost imperceptible nod in agreement.

  They left the room and followed the corridor to the very end where she walked them through an open doorway. The room held only a large, rectangular table surrounded by no less than thirty high back chairs. High windows spilled fingers of light through the thick glass, but just barely. Most of the light came from the circle of torches mounted to the walls. The whole structure reminded Gideon of a castle.

  “We use this room for dining,” she told him as they made their way to the very far end of the table, the one furthest away from the gilded chair at the other end. “But my father is using the strategy chamber to discuss matters with your father, so...” she let the rest of her words trail off.

  “I thought you only had four sisters,” Gideon said as he counted the number of chairs.

  Valkyrie nodded. “My father likes to sit the council at the table so they can discuss business while they eat.”

  He tried to think that that made
sense, but he’d been raised with a mother who would strangle a bear with her bare hands at the very idea of everyone not being present at supper time. It was family time, she always said. Nothing short of serious injury saved one from not being present. Talking business would probably just get them all killed.

  “Where are your sisters?” he asked instead.

  “Alva’s scouting the western perimeter.” She pulled out a chair, waved him to take the one across from her as she sat. “Erle’s training the troops below. Anika’s visiting the east on father’s command. He’s hoping they’ll have information on who’s attacking these people. And Serinda...” She dropped her gaze and gingerly traced something carved into the lip of the table with one fingertip. “Serinda’s getting prepared for her matching ceremony in a fortnight.”

  Gideon had heard of matching ceremonies amongst some of the veil creatures. It was a throwback of the days when it was crucial to arrange marriages between two kingdoms in hopes of peace or a battle strategy. Selkies had no need for such barbaric methods. Why arrange a marriage between two people when one of them would one day wind up finding his or her mate and leaving the person they were with? Maybe he was biased about the whole matter, but forcing someone into a loveless marriage never sat well with him.

  “Matching ceremony, huh?” he muttered, barely repressing the disgust in his tone.

  Valkyrie raised her head and peered at him. “Not all of us are fortunate to find a mate,” she said snidely. “Some of us have no choice.”

  “And what about love?” he countered. “Can you honestly live without that?”

  Her chin lifted in a defiance he found endearing. “We here in the west are not bound by our heartstrings like those of you in the north. It’s my duty to conceive future warriors with a man my father deems worthy of the lineage.”

  “And you’re perfectly happy with that?”

  She moistened her lips. “It’s not my place to question a method that has been in place for centuries. When my time comes to be matched, I will accept it with honor.”

  Beneath the table, Gideon’s fingers curled into fists in his lap. “And when exactly is it your time to accept this great honor?”