Gideon's Promise (Sons of Judgment Book 2)

by Morgana Phoenix

  “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.”

  Valkyrie 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.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The 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.

  In a move practiced through eons, Gideon was on his feet, daggers glinting in the patches of filtered light. His coat rustled as he, in that same fluid motion, tore it off him, pitched it aside, and spun.

  The ambush came in a wave that surrounded them in seconds. Draconian warriors roared, a vicious sound of a beast older than the dirt itself. Gleaming bodies of bronze broke through the trees in a wave. Steel glinted and that was the last thing Gideon saw before they were on him.

  Metal clanged. The sound reverberated through the silence like the first crack of lightening. The warrior in Gideon’s face sneered. Teeth, white and serrated to jagged points, flashed inches from his face. Their clashed weapons shrieked between their bodies as they ground together.

  Gideon planted his feet, heaved his body forward. The warrior was expecting it, he caught himself from being shoved too far back. But their daggers slid apart, emanating sparks. Behind him, he could hear Magnus and Valkyrie. He didn’t turn.

  The warrior swung. Gideon caught the attack with the point of his blade, twisted, and ducked the second blade the warrior swung at his head. He drove his elbow into the warrior’s abdomen. It was like elbowing a boulder, but it caught the bigger man by surprise and he jerked back. In his blade, Gideon caught the movement behind him a split second before something slammed into his back.

  Gideon hit the ground hard on one knee as slivers of fire cobwebbed across the span of his entire back. He snarled through his teeth, but it wasn’t a sound of pain.

  He slashed out, rolled right, and came up in the same push. Twisting, he thrust one dagger up between his attacker’s underarm. The other deflected the sword coming down at his skull. Attacker two went down, but the first one remained.

  One dagger down, Gideon pivoted, jumped over the fallen warrior with Gideon’s blade still protruding from his side. Gideon knew he wasn’t dead, nor would he stay down for very long, but he wasn’t able to retrieve his weapon, not when the first warrior was dogging his steps, pushing Gideon back.

  Born and bred in wilderness, the Draconian warriors moved as though they were fighting in a clearing, as though there was nothing to trip over, to come up against. Gideon wasn’t so lucky. His heels caught risen roots, slipped on bits of rock jetting from the ground, and struck trees at every turn. As fighting conditions went, it was not ideal, but he had fought in worse. He had stayed steadfast when bodies were to his knees and every step found the crunch of bone. He would not fall here.

  The warrior charged. Gideon let him, let the warrior use all his energy coming at Gideon. He planted his feet and deflected the thrusting blade by twisting at the last second. He came up beneath the warrior’s arm with his back to the other man’s chest. Gideon drove his elbow back, knocking the air from the warrior’s sternum and the moment he doubled, Gideon rammed the top of his head under the warrior’s chin and following it by spinning his dagger around and plunging it deep into the man’s gut.

  He hit the ground at Gideon’s feet, just the right height for Gideon to knock him out cold with a high kick.

  But his moment of triumph was short lived when three warriors rushed him.

  Not giving them the chance to get the upper hand, Gideon attacked first. He caught one in the throat with a fist, knocked the legs out from under the second, and clashed blades with the third. Standing on an incline, the third warrior had to rely on Gideon to remain up there without sliding down. And Gideon held him, before jerking aside. The warrior tumbled down and Gideon kicked him in the back.

  Not waiting for them to recover, Gideon shot up the hill, turned once to kick the hand snatching at his ankle before running to were Valkyrie was pinned against a tree by two warriors.

  There was a gash on her bottom lip that was dripping blood down her chin. The sight of it had Gideon seeing red ... literally. Blinding fury pumped through him with every sharp crack of his heart. He moved without seeing anything else. His body was on autopilot, moving and fighting with only one goal in mind—to get to her.

  It wasn’t until he had his hands closed around the first warrior’s throat, yanking him back, away from Valkyrie that he finally came to himself. Caught off guard, the warrior hit the ground and was met with Gideon’s boot in the face. The satisfying crunch of bones shattering sang through Gideon as he stepped back and turned to face the second warrior.

  Valkyrie had him on his knees, sword raised lengthwise over his head as Valkyrie beat against him with hers. The sharp clang of metal meeting metal repeatedly rippled through the air. Seeing that they were getting nowhere, she kicked him square in the chest with her boot and sent him sprawling across the ground.

  “Okay?” he asked when she turned to him.

  “Fine,” she answered with a hint of annoyed frustration, like she didn’t understand why he would think she wouldn’t be.

  He snorted a chuckle and turned away, searching for Magnus.

  He was gone and Gideon and Valkyrie were surrounded by no less than ten warriors, weapons drawn.

  “I’ll take the five on the left, you take the five on the right,” Valkyrie said, moving to stand at his should
er, sword held firm.

  She was soaked in sweat. Her hair was plastered to her face and fell in damp tendrils around her shoulders. She had stripped off her coat and stood looking as formidable as the warriors advancing towards them.

  Gideon didn’t raise his blade. He scanned the faces leering back with a new surge of panic and rage.

  “Where’s my brother?” he demanded. “If you’ve hurt him, I will kill each of you, I swear it.”

  “And he means it,” came a familiar, amused voice.

  The group parted and a Magnus approached, unharmed, followed by a Draconian warrior. Both were grinning.

  “You bastard!” Gideon snapped.

  Magnus turned to the man at his shoulder. “See the love?”

  The man chortled.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Valkyrie demanded. “Was this a test?”

  The man shrugged. “Perhaps.”

  He was seven feet of raw, bronze muscle. Like the other warriors, he wore animal hide around his lean hips, no shirt, no shoes, no pants. Just a loincloth and a thin leather band across his brow. His hair was a shiny ink spill around enormous shoulders and there were tribal tattoos across his chest and shoulders.

  “I sent word to Kyros that we would be dropping by,” Magnus explained. “The rest was his idea.”

  “A test,” the man, Kyros, said, echoing Valkyrie’s question. “We do not normally allow strangers into our forest, but I have known Magnus a very long time.”

  Gideon narrowed his eyes at his brother. “A fact you conveniently forgot to mention, I suppose.”

  Magnus shrugged, still grinning in a way that was making Gideon want to punch him. “I didn’t forget.”

  “Fucker,” Gideon muttered under his breath.

  He stalked to where he’d thrown his coat and snatched it up off the ground. He shook leaves and dirt off the leather and swung it on. He turned to find a warrior standing directly behind him, holding the dagger Gideon had lost in the side of ... the same warrior, who seemed fine. There wasn’t even any blood, or blemish to indicate he’d just had his ass handed to him.