Gideon

by Sharon Hamilton

  He brought his hands to his eyes.

  “What can I do to help?” she asked.

  Gideon returned a nasty glare. His nostrils flared, and even his eyes appeared to be turning red. “You can let me think!”

  He started to concentrate again, and then he stopped, turning in her direction.

  “No. On second thought, get out of here!” He pointed to the door then the ceiling.

  “Gideon, I know I don’t look like I’m very strong, but I can do things to help you. Maybe I can get some help from the Guardianship.”

  He was about to scream another “No” at her when they heard the downstairs door open. A male voice called out in a British accent, “Yo, Gideon, where the fuck are you, you bloody asshole?”

  “Don’t go anywhere,” Gideon whispered. “Stay right here,” he commanded. He dashed for the bedroom doorway arch, calling out downstairs, “Francis, I’m coming down right now.” He grabbed a shirt and then thought better of it, tossing it to the ground, and then closed the door behind him, leaving her alone.

  She tilted her head, thinking perhaps another thought would drift in that would help make her predicament more clear.

  She thought about all the images of everything that had transpired today: the lonely tower with the fog rolling in, the athletic lovemaking with the girl, the dark shadow who stole her away. And then she recalled seeing him rest on the bed, trying to be quiet so the girl could sleep. Persephone at that moment felt the rumble of Gideon’s heart, beating against her own, even from the space clear across the room. His heart wasn’t evil. It was warm, full of the manliness she’d experienced in human males. A human hero.

  He was somehow innocent, yet possessed strange, dark powers. These powers were like armaments to his body, enhancements or prosthetics protecting him. Gideon was a tenderhearted soul trapped in a warrior’s body that had been altered. Thrice altered. And she’d been the cause of one of those, sadly.

  Redemption is so complicated!

  She was glad it wasn’t her job to sort all this out. Way beyond her pay grade. Perhaps if Father knew all about this, he’d decide Gideon was more trouble than he was worth. Thus, if she were going to save Gideon from himself, from the evil forces out there, from the Underworld, from this dark creature, the girl or whatever else out there he was battling, perhaps she’d also have to keep this little secret from Father.

  It was just a little secret anyway, she told herself. Really insignificant, compared to the importance of all humanity. Surely in the end, he wouldn’t mind, as long as she got the desired result.

  She heard heated voices downstairs and could not bear to be left out of any of Gideon’s secrets. She tiptoed to the door, opened it, and peered over the railing.

  Chapter 8

  “Jesus, Gideon. You really fucked up.” Francis’s contorted face had never looked so hideous, so full of contempt. The over-six-foot angel, plagued with allergies, even to his own wings, was Gideon’s only friend. Francis’s next comment was truncated by a series of loud uncontrollable sneezes punctuated with howling farm-animal bellows sounding like half-ostrich honk and half-squealing mother pig. Getting control of his breath finally, he pulled a large tablecloth of a mankerchief from his back pocket and sneezed into it again, nearly doing a cartwheel in the hallway right in front of Gideon.

  “Francis, get hold of yourself.”

  “What the bloody hell’s that foul smell?”

  Gideon shrugged and watched Francis lose himself in his oversized hanky again and then blow his nose hard enough to make the windows rattle.

  “Goddammit, Gideon, you’re eating duck again!”

  “No. No ducks. No fowl of any kind.” Gideon was smug, wrapping his arms around his own waist and waited for Francis to recover.

  “Parakeets. Canaries. You have a bird in here somewhere.”

  “You forget, Francis, I am an angel, same as you. If you’re allergic to your own feathers, perhaps you are also allergic to these.” Gideon arched back in a near-ballet pose with his arms outstretched above him and his black wings unfurled, knocking a mirror off the wall and overturning an étagère and a huge potted African fern. Francis’s eyes got wide, laced with fear and panic as his whites began turning a light shade of pink on their way to red.

  “Stop it. Stop them!” Francis screamed, nearly inhaling his mankerchief and then sneezing so hard the dirty, white linen flew in Gideon’s face. Francis righted himself from his involuntary bow and whipped the cloth away. “I am NOT contagious!”

  Gideon gave him a lopsided half smile. He could see Francis’s own wings had become unraveled, bulging out his upper collar like a hunchback. A few dirty white feathers settled on the expensive Persian foyer runner at their feet—the only telltale sign Francis was indeed an angel at all. Normally his wings drooped limply, scraping the ground as he walked, following like a couple of errant children. His black trench coat had come untied and was hanging off one shoulder. His white shirt was sticking to his skinny, pink upper torso. Because Francis refused to wear an undershirt, Gideon could see his nipples and his palm-print-sized patch of dark chest hair. The angel’s belt had come unbuckled and his fly was nearly halfway unzipped. Gideon chose that feature to point to next, and Francis fixed himself, grumbling.

  “This is your doing,” he said. “I am not sick.”

  “No. Just flawed. So get it over with, Francis. Say what you came to say and then let’s move on, shall we?”

  Francis’s chest heaved as he paced back and forth on the burgundy rug in Gideon’s foyer. His eyes darted about, his hands whipped at his sides, searching for something to grasp, something to do.

  Something to hit.

  “I know you’re angry, Francis,” Gideon began.

  “Put those goddamned wings away, Gideon, so we can talk. My God, those are twice the size of your old ones. You reek of bird hormones.”

  The simple adjustment in Gideon’s over-developed trapezius muscles packed his wings back into their skin sacs. He was proud of his own control, all done without a single dark feather falling out of line. Francis had not been paying a bit of attention.

  The older angel smelled from the exertion of tracing against the wind of the storm now blowing. He didn’t like to fly but not using his wings made the work much more strenuous. He also had been drinking red wine, and it stained the area above his upper lip on the left side. His blondish-gray hair stood out in all directions in stiff tufts from not being combed in days. For the first time, Gideon detected light stubble on Francis’s chin. It was slightly red.

  You old Viking, you.

  Francis searched the foyer and then poked his head into the kitchen. He shrugged. “So what happened?” His hands were waist high, palms up. Then he fell on his knees, grabbing his nose rag just in time to stop another sneeze.

  “I couldn’t do it anymore, Francis,” Gideon said to the top of the angel’s head.

  Francis swore and then got on his feet again, sighing. He rolled his neck. “What, you just decided yesterday you were going to ruin your own life and the lives of all the other angels and humans out there? Whatever were you thinking, Gideon? You’ve caused a huge stir. I haven’t seen so many Guardians for years, all crying and wailing about, wondering where you went and why.”

  “And what have you told them?”

  Francis scrunched up his face. “Told them? What could I tell them? I had no fuckin’ clue. You just go nuts or something? Is this a vampire-hormone-male-menopause kind of thing here?” he said from behind his mankerchief.

  “No, it’s not like that at all. I just—” Gideon shook his head. “You know how we are. Controlled. Everything is regimented.”

  “We got free will.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Well, within reason. As long as we get the job done.”

  “I have to sit up there on that fuckin’ tower six days a week, asshole. You only have to do it one.”

  “That’s because I tend a flock. I do social work. You know that.”
Francis swung his cloth around like he was hailing a waiter.

  “And why can’t I walk around the streets of San Francisco, sit in coffee houses, and talk to girls like you do?”

  “You know why.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “Because I’m not gonna do anything. I think the man upstairs was always worried about you. After all I saw today, could you blame him?”

  Gideon could feel Francis had calmed down, but only slightly.

  “So you went on a bender,” his friend began, “and I love you like a brother, Gideon, but I’m not taking your fuckin’ job. You take a little time off. Get yourself right in the head, and then you come back. All is forgiven.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, it better be fuckin’ so because I ain’t—” He sneezed again. “—doin’ that job for you. He’s gonna have to get someone else.”

  “See, you don’t even want that job,” Gideon jabbed.

  “Don’t start with me. Nobody wants that job. But there has never been anyone like you, either.”

  “Francis, you’re forgetting something important. Suppose he’s gonna scorch me? A Fallen Angel can’t be a Watcher. You know that. Hell, I don’t even know what the hell is going to happen to me. I didn’t really plan all this out. You really think the Guardianship would be okay with a Dark doing that position? No, someone else’s got to do it. That someone won’t be me. I got enough of my own problems.”

  Francis hesitated, pondering what Gideon had just told him. “I’ll tell you what. You’re gonna have to get some protection. One thing when you were a new Guardian and all that, you kinda had the best of both worlds. Your vampire nature, some of it remained, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And then you had protection from Him. But now? I mean, you know that little one-legged Russian angel who went dark? It was fun for a time, but man, he didn’t look very good last time he visited. Remember?”

  “Yeah, I kicked him off the bridge.”

  “He brought you that red vodka and thought he was going to get you so drunk you’d let him escort you down there. You refused.”

  “I wasn’t ready. Look, Francis, I don’t want to go to the Underworld. I just want to stay here, in the human world. Where I can think and—”

  “Chase the ladies, I know. I could never understand His problem with that.” Francis trusted himself enough to refold and stow his towel into his back pocket.

  “Agreed, Francis.” He glanced upstairs and saw Persephone in the shadows at the landing. That made Francis take notice.

  “Aha! So I interrupted you. Why didn’t I think of that?” Francis stepped under the light in the middle of the foyer and raised one arm, wiggling his fingers. “Come on out here, sweetheart. Let’s see what the cat dragged in.”

  Gideon grabbed Francis around his neck and tried to put a chokehold on him. His friend slipped out of his grasp and disappeared to another corner.

  “I don’t fuckin’ fly, but I haven’t lost the gift of tracing. Don’t you try anything on me.”

  “Gideon, it’s okay.” Persephone’s voice was steady. She stepped to the edge of the landing and placed her little pink hands on the metal railing. She was the true picture of a perfect Guardian angel. Her long blonde hair cascaded around her flawless pale skin. The picture of innocence and grace. Unblemished perfection. In spite of himself, he felt his heart skip a couple beats. It was the first time he’d gazed upon a woman other than a redhead and thought she was stunningly beautiful.

  Francis gasped and Gideon gave him a warning growl.

  But Gideon also noticed something else. She did not wear panties. What he could see under her delicate white gown made him blush. He got the impression she didn’t know any better. He was entranced until he realized Francis had also taken a good look.

  “Hallo, little Miss Guardian. Holy crap, Gideon, you are sure playing with fire.”

  Gideon swore under his breath.

  “I was sent,” Persephone said in her melodic voice, as she made her way down the stairs. Her bare feet made not a sound. A hushed pall fell between the two angel friends.

  Francis suddenly traced next to Gideon and whispered, “You gotta get some clothes on that angel, especially—”

  “Shoes,” Gideon interrupted. “But she’s not staying long,” he finished. He tried to give her a glare or show his displeasure with her near-nakedness but found he was unable to. Her sweet pink face disarmed him again.

  “That’s not for you to decide, Gideon,” Persephone said as she addressed Francis. “I’m Persephone, Gideon’s Guardian. And you are Francis, is that right?”

  Francis walked up to the young angel, and, with a slight downward angle of his head and shoulders, bowed, taking her hand, and kissing her knuckles. “Francis, friend to Gideon, part-time Watcher, and Guardian as yourself. Completely at your service, Persephone.” Gideon watched Francis inhale her scent without covering up his arousal. He let go of her hand quickly, grabbing his towel and stopping another sneeze. Persephone’s arm floated gently down next to her side like a snowflake.

  Gideon watched his angel friend peruse Persephone’s body and saw the resulting blush on her face. He growled in a slow rumble only Francis would be able to hear.

  “Charming. I can see why you’re so smitten,” Francis whispered.

  “Touch one hair on her head and I’ll end you.”

  “It’s not like that. I’m his Guardian,” interrupted Persephone.

  “My Guardian was an old hag. It was not a pleasant experience.” Francis again folded his towel. Gideon found himself growling again to ward off his friend’s interest.

  She turned and defiantly focused on Gideon. “I think the three of us need to have a little chat.”

  “Bloody hell.” Francis put his hands on his hips and shrugged. “We do need some answers and fast. I’d kinda like to hear what she has to say,” he said to Gideon.

  “You don’t know the whole story,” Gideon answered.

  “Well, maybe he can help, Gideon. We’ve got to tell him.” She wasn’t going to be deterred.

  “Now what? Tell him what, exactly?” asked Francis, following Gideon and Persephone into the living room. Gideon turned on the gas fireplace but no lights. Four tall-backed, red, leather chairs were positioned in front of the stone hearth, two facing two. He motioned for his guests to have a seat.

  Persephone tucked her legs under her and curled up on one of the seats closest to the fireplace. Gideon tried not to look, but again failed. It was everything he could do not to stare at his Guardian’s beauty, something he’d never allowed himself to consider when he was in training. It was like he was seeing her for the first time.

  “Come on. Out with it,” insisted Francis after he sat down across from them, his elbows on his knees. “Next you’ll say you two are expecting, or she’s one of their bots or some dumb shit like that.”

  No one moved so Francis continued with another guess. “You got married?”

  “No!” Both Persephone and Gideon shouted him back.

  “Oh, this must be really delicious.” Francis turned to Persephone. “You’re not supposed to lie. I’m counting on this.” His finger waggled accusingly.

  “I met someone special on the bus,” Gideon blurted, taking the heat off his Guardian.

  Francis sat back in the chair, crossed his arms and legs, and placed a hand over his forehead. “Oh God, this sounds like a boring story already.”

  “He drove a bus off the Golden Gate Bridge, Francis. But he rescued her.”

  “Yes, I was going to ask you how you managed to do that.”

  “My Carl Gustav did a great job.” Gideon grinned. “My wings and sexual prowess did the rest.”

  They heard pounding on the roof, and Francis scurried to his feet. “Oh God, you’ve brought them.”

  “No, Francis, it’s a branch. I’ve got to have it trimmed.”

  “Brought whom?” asked Persephone.

  “The inky ones. Di
sgusting creatures,” said Francis as he shuddered. “You sure about that sound? Because you’re a magnet for dark things now, and we aren’t trained, well, you know,” mumbled Francis.

  “Stop it, Francis. Yes. I recognize the sound.” Gideon lifted a white feather off his thigh and dropped it on the carpet.

  “Before sunrise, we need to make a plan, Gideon.” Persephone was all business. She addressed Francis next. “Gideon was asleep in bed with her when some dark, shadowy figure stole the girl away, just carried her out into the night.”

  Francis looked to Gideon, who nodded.

  “You ever see anything like that?” she asked.

  Gideon had been musing on what his Guardian had seen of the sexual encounter with Ashley and hoped she’d arrived after they were asleep.

  “Our old friend Luther talked about those Dark Ones. Yuck.” Francis shuddered again. “You’ll be pulled below, and it won’t be pretty.”

  “How do you know this?” Gideon faced his friend.

  “Luther saw it. He had a friend who was dragged out of bed. He wanted to save his woman from the creature.”

  “And did he?”

  “The thing that got him laughed in his face and urinated on her.”

  Gideon hadn’t considered anything dangerous would happen to Ashley. But now he realized it was possible. “What did the thing look like?”

  “Big, black, skinny angel with shiny bat-like wings and long yellow fangs. Luther ran into the room just as the thing pulled out his huge pecker and sprayed the girl. Disgusting! He held the guy by the neck, and try as he might, his arms were too short to be able to deliver blows to the beast. All he could do was scream and try to bite.”

  Gideon was silent.

  “The ugly angel of death flew through the window with both of them, screaming for help that would never come. The guy, stark naked, flailed in its claws. And it was laughing at them both.”

  “Has Luther seen them since?”