“Imogen.” His mother reached across the table and took the glass from the girl. She set it aside before taking both of Imogen’s hands in hers. “One has nothing to do with the other, sweetie. It was not your fault.”
Imogen’s bright, green eyes rose up and met his mother’s. They shimmered with unshed tears, but her face was set in a defiant tilt. “Then whose fault is it, if not mine?”
Carefully, his mother relinquished her grip on the girl and sat back. Her expression was thoughtful, like she was torn between revealing her thoughts and keeping them to herself. The first side seemed to have won when she wet her lips and opened her mouth.
“Back when I was a young girl,” she began slowly. “There was a war between selkies and sirens over what is now called Isle of Man located in the Irish Sea. It wasn’t the first time, nor was it the last, but this particular war was different. It’s the one I will always remember, because we almost lost because of me.”
Gideon looked down at the long, jagged scar marring the surface of the table.
Despite the fact that his mother had never spoken of that war and her involvement, he knew immediately how the story ended. His father had told them and had warned them never to bring it up. It was a part of the past their mother carried with her like a dark shroud.
“I wasn’t with Liam at the time. I knew him of course; our village was one of the smaller ones so most everyone knew each other. And while I felt something undeniable for him, I was at that age when everything was a challenge and I wanted to experience everything.” She offered Imogen a half smile. “I wanted more. Including Devlin, a boy my father most definitely did not approve of. He was handsome and he made me laugh, and while neither of us were foolish enough to believe our relationship would ever amount to anything, we mulishly stayed together, because, while he was a selkie, he was not my mate and we knew the day would come when we would find the one meant for us and what we shared would end. But, as I said, we were young. We were wrapped in the thrill of each other.”
Gideon put his hand up. “Mom, I am not drunk enough to hear about your ... thrill, with other guys.”
His mother chuckled. Imogen almost broke a half smile.
“Your father has always been and always will be the love of my life, but it wasn’t always like that. We both had our ... thrills, before we found each other.”
“Can we stop saying thrills?” Gideon made a face. “It’s beginning to sound like a secret term for something dirty and I can’t look at you, or dad, like that.”
Imogen did laugh this time.
His mother smacked him lightly on the arm. “Girls weren’t like that back then. It was all about the secret glances and stolen moments.”
“What happened?” Imogen cut in, evidently tired of the derailment of the original conversation.
“Well...” Some of the light that had begun to form in his mother’s eyes dimmed. “For all the happiness that Devlin brought to me as a friend and companion, my father saw him as nothing more than the blacksmith’s apprentice who, to support his fatherless family, took odd jobs around town. He wasn’t worthy. I have a feeling he wouldn’t have made my father happy even if Devlin had been my mate. My father was always a hard man to please. His daughters, like the men he commanded in the army, were to be nothing but obedient of his every demand. My sisters were easily cowed. But I was too much like my father and no matter how hard he pushed, I pushed harder. And the more he told me to stay away from Devlin, the more I was adamant to be with him. I called him a tyrant. I told him, out of spite, that ... well, it doesn’t matter what I said. The fact is that they were horrible, terrible things that I will never get to earn forgiveness for.” She broke off. Her shoulders lifted and her chest rose as she sucked in a hard breath. “That was the last time I saw him. He was captured that very night on his way to the battle lines to check on the troops. There were rumors that someone on our side betrayed us, but it doesn’t matter. The last thing my father heard from me was that I hoped he never came home ... and he didn’t.”
“Mom...” Gideon reached for her and was waved back.
With a shaky hand, she dabbed at the corner of her eye with a knuckle. “It was so long ago. Before you boys were born. Before Liam.” She laughed tightly. “So many years I can’t even count that high.”
“But him getting captured wasn’t your fault,” Imogen broke in.
With an affectionate smile, his mom reached for Imogen’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “And this, what happened with your family, isn’t yours. You may not realize it now, but one day...”
If Imogen was going to respond, she wasn’t given the chance. The kitchen door opened and Liam walked out, not quite as put together as he normally would be. His hair was disheveled and his dress shirt hung rumpled over the waistband of his trousers, and if Gideon wasn’t mistaken, his father wasn’t wearing socks under his loafers.
“Kyaerin?” His gaze swept over the room and settled on the group. “What is it?”
Laughing and dabbing away the last of her tears, his mother rose hastily from her seat and hurried to her husband.
“Nothing, mo ghrá. Why are you awake?”
Her question, although reasonable, brought a crease to the center of his father's brows. “You were not in our bed,” he said evenly, like he were explaining the most logical thing in the world. “Also...” he reached out to touch her face lovingly. “Your sadness nearly killed me.”
His mother's face softened as it always did when his father spoke. Her eyes shimmered with so much love it was painful to look directly at. She leaned up on the toes of her feet and captured his mouth in a tender kiss that couldn't have last more than a second, but radiated with such tender devotion that Gideon had to avert his eyes; there was always something so intimate in the way his parents behaved around each other that it was impossible not to feel like an intruder.
He turned his attention to the only other person in the room, who, like him, was studying her hands.
“She's right you know,” he told her. “You can't blame yourself for what happened.”
Imogen met his gaze with an annoyance that would have been amusing any other time. “I don't only blame myself. I blame the people who did this. My parents never hurt anyone. They went out of their way to keep to themselves. We all did.”
Gideon didn't know what to say to that. Thankfully, Imogen didn't need a response.
“Whoever did this is a monster and they deserve to die.”
Gideon was about to agree when his father summoned his attention from across the room. The look he gave Gideon said everything without words—watch over your mother. Gideon nodded that he understood, watched his father kiss his mother once more before disappearing back through the kitchen doors.
His mother walked back to the table and sat. She smiled almost sheepishly at Imogen. Then at Gideon.
“Forgive me. Where were we?”
With a wink towards Imogen, Gideon replied, “You were telling us what an amazing son I am and how you broke the mold with me.”
His mother pursed her lips in a stern line, but it wasn't enough to conceal her grin. “Absolutely insufferable.”
“Which is actually code for agreement.”
Imogen laughed.
Chuckling, his mother shook her head. “How did I ever push that fat ego out of my birth—”
Gideon recoiled. “Ugh! Ew!” He clapped both hands over his ears. “La, la, la!”
His mother rolled her eyes with amusement, but spoke no more of her birth canal.
He still had his hands over his ears when Octavian pushed through the kitchen doors, topless and shoeless. He looked as exhausted as Gideon felt.
“Well, hello!” Gideon announced, dropping his hands to the table. “Here to hear about Mom's birth canal?”
Octavian faltered in his strides. He shot uncertain glances at the group.
“What?”
Gideon nodded. “Mom is sharing battle stories.” That earned him a slap on the arm
by his mother. “Ow! God you're a violent woman.”
Octavian shook his head. “Riley's not feeling well. I'm getting her something to eat.”
All amusement vanished on their mother's face. “Is everything all right?”
Octavian shrugged, shaking his head. “I don't know. She's been like this for a few days now. She's having trouble keeping the blood down. I think she just needs some rest and maybe a different blood type.”
Their mother nodded. “Let me know if I can do anything.”
Promising he would, he returned to the kitchen where they could hear him rummaging around preparing to heat a blood bag for Riley. A moment later, he was back, arms folded as he stifled a yawn.
“Riley seemed fine when I saw her last night,” their mother said, concern darkening her features.
Octavian shrugged. “She's fine at night. It's first thing in the mornings that...”
Gideon was prepared to make a joke about buns in the oven when the front doors opened and Valkyrie slipped inside. All jokes fled his mind and were replaced by something else ... tension. Something was wrong.
“Oh, Valkyrie!” His mother pressed her hands over her heart. “Thank goodness you're home, sweetheart.”
Hand still resting on the doorknob, Valkyrie visibly stiffened. Her gaze swung over the room as though expecting an ambush.
“Did something happen?” she asked.
His mother blinked in surprise. “Oh no, no, no, I was simply concerned,” she explained. “You were gone all night.”
Valkyrie's brows furrowed with confusion. “I was hunting.”
Any other time, the interaction would have been amusing; Valkyrie’s one tracked mind gave little room for mundane things like concern. But Gideon's thoughts were elsewhere, like in the rigid lines of her shoulders and how she seemed to be cradling her right side. To an onlooker who didn't know her, who couldn't sense her pain, they would never have noticed the well hidden signs, but it was all Gideon could concentrate on.
Carefully, like any sudden movements might jolt his mother into attacking, Valkyrie shut the door and moved a little deeper into the room. Her movements were a little too casual, just a little too forced.
“Is everything all right?”
Apparently, Gideon wasn't the only one who had noticed; Octavian was watching her as well with concern.
Valkyrie visibly stiffened. Her gaze shifted from Octavian to his mother warily like she didn’t fathom why they kept asking her that.
“Yes ... of course.”
She edged towards the kitchen doors.
“Well, I am simply relieved that you are home,” his mother said. She rose from her chair. “I believe I shall get a few more hours rest now that I know you are safe.”
Valkyrie squinted at the other woman. “I’m a hunter,” she declared as though in reminder.
Nodding, his mother walked to the other woman. “I know, darling. It is why I worry.”
She touched Valkyrie lightly on the shoulder in passing and what little color had been on her face bled white. A gray tinge seeped around the edges as though she were about to throw up. Her jawline tightened and Gideon felt her pain wash over him.
“Valkyrie?” His mother reached for her again. “What’s wrong?”
Raising a barely steady hand to brush back a lock of rebellious hair from her brow, Valkyrie started to shake her head. But Gideon was on his feet and across the room before she could respond. She jolted in surprise when he grabbed her arm, careful not to touch skin as he wrenched her arm over to survey the smear of red dried down the inside of her forearm. A thick, angry bracelet of torn flesh circled the wrists and Gideon would have bet his life that they were restrain marks.
“Gideon?”
He ignored his mother. His gaze was fixed on Valkyrie's wide, blue eyes.
“What happened?”
She jerked back, but he tightened his hold. “Release me, Maxwell!”
Rather than comply, he grabbed her other arm and ripped back the sleeve of her coat. Also stained with blood.
“Valkyrie! What happened?” His mother moved as though to assist, but Valkyrie wrenched away.
“There is nothing ... I am fine.”
“You are not fine,” Gideon growled. “You are hurt.”
She glowered at him, tugging down her sleeves. “That is none of your concern.”
Gideon temper crackled to life with a vengeance. “Want to bet on that?”
Octavian moved to Gideon's side and settled a firm hand on his shoulder. His cool gray eyes remained set on Valkyrie.
“They look painful,” he said evenly. “Mom can help you—”
“I am fine,” she stated sharply. “I don’t need help.”
“Let me guess, you're not allowed to heal them until your lord and master forgives you your crimes.” Gideon smirked coldly. “What did you do this time, Valkyrie? Were you not fast enough?”
“Gideon, that is enough!” his mother snapped, appalled.
“Strong enough?”
“Gideon!”
Gideon stopped, but it wasn't because of his mother. It was because of the cyclone of emotion in Valkyrie's eyes. It had been so long since he'd seen them that he was rendered speechless. Part of him hadn't thought she was capable anymore.
“I did nothing!” she hissed and he was struck by the tremor that shook her voice.
Spearing him with a look of absolute loathing, she snapped on her heel and barged through the kitchen doors. Gideon watched them clack noisily shut.
“That was uncalled for, Gideon,” his mother reprimanded. “I expect an apology next time you see her.”
With a disappointed glare, she followed Valkyrie out of the dining area.
“Was that necessary?” Octavian demanded.
Gideon wasn't listening. He was still replaying Valkyrie's last words to him, I did nothing.
To some, like his mother and brother, and even Imogen who was still sitting at the table watching the show with wide eyed interest, the statement was a simple fact spat in a moment of heated anger. But Gideon saw it for what it was ... an omission. She wasn't punished for anything she did. She was punished for something he did.
“Mother fucking son of a bitch!”
Octavian ceased speaking at once. Imogen squeaked and clapped her hands over her mouth.
“Bastard!”
A crashing bang followed his snarl. It took him a second to realize he had upended a table and pitched a chair across the room. It lay in a broken mess of splintered wood across the floor.
“Gideon!” Octavian grabbed him before he could break another chair.
“He did this!” he roared, wrenching free of his brother to whip around. “He punished her because of what I did.”
Octavian narrowed his eyes, confusion wrinkled his brow. “Who—”
“Arild Devereaux,” he spat the name as though it were something foul. His entire body trembled with rage. His heart cracked wildly as his adrenaline skyrocketed. “That little bitch must have gone running home to tell Arild what I did, so of course, Valkyrie has to take the punishment he can't give me.”
“You don't know that,” Octavian rationalized calmly. “She didn't say—”
“And she never will,” he cut in with a growl. “He has them all brainwashed thinking it's an honor to be beaten bloody.”
“My dad used to tell us of the four gates,” Imogen said, pulling their attention over to her. “He used to say Arild Devereaux was Satan himself and we should never journey to the west no matter what.”
“Can you go see if Valkyrie needs anything?” Octavian asked when Imogen fell silent. “Please?” he added.
Imogen gave a nod and hurried from the room, leaving Gideon alone with his brother.
“I want to kill him,” Gideon said. “I want to rip out his throat and watch as he drowns in his own blood.”
Octavian frowned at him. “Let it go, Gid.”
“Don't!” Gideon hissed, jabbing Octavian in the chest with
a finger. “Don't tell me to let it go when I went to hell for your mate. I fought for you. I fought for Riley. I never once asked for anything.”
“Don't you think I would do the same? Don't you think I want Arild's head for hurting Valkyrie? I do, but there is a way to go about doing it without challenging the entire clan.”
“Like what?” Gideon shot back.
“Like keeping your head down and putting a plan into place. Don't be stupid. Let us help you.” He grinned and punched Gideon in the arm. “We're not going to let you have all the fun.”
Gideon was saved from answering when the diner doors opened and Magnus charged in.
“The underworld is in chaos.”
Chapter Nine
Ten feet of sinewy muscle with skin the color of hot coals. Ivory spikes protruded in arches from its bull-like head. Smoke bellowed from its flat nostrils as he shook the ground with an ever clomping stride. The crowd roared. The sound was thick with the thirst for blood. It coiled in the pit of Gideon’s stomach like sour milk; Valkyrie had to fight that thing.
Then, just when he couldn’t imagine it getting worse, a second figure followed the first. A dironous, demon of iron work with the love of skinning his victims alive and devouring their organs. Black as night with wild crimson eyes and a body made entirely of metal. Unlike the bull, he stood on his two hind legs, reaching almost twenty feet. The appearance of the dironous seemed to surprise everyone, except Arild.
“Two?” The fact that this wasn’t the norm only increased Gideon’s desire to be sick.
“Father.” One of the daughters, Anika possibly, leaned over Arild’s chair. “Begging your forgiveness, but this must be a mistake.”
Gideon's Promise (Sons of Judgment Book 2) Page 14
