Hades, he hated New Orleans. It was too hot. California was sweltering in the summer, but it was a dry heat more easily managed. Louisiana’s heat was heavy and moist, giving the impression of asphyxiating underwater while standing in the street perfectly dry. Coupled with the evil hanging in the air, it was oppressive.
New Orleans was a hotbed for spiritual activity. The local obsession with voodoo, witchcraft, and the like created the perfect breeding ground for demonic strongholds. Humans had no idea the types of evil they played with when they orchestrated their seances and visited mediums. To them, it was simply spooky entertainment. Little did they know if the wrong demon was listening, they might find themselves haunted by something far more sinister than Great Aunt Bertha’s ghost.
It was all fun and games until someone lost their soul.
As much as Gideon loathed New Orleans, the visit was unavoidable. Tabitha was more forthcoming when he came to her for information. She gained more power over the meeting, but it was yet another necessity. Riley’s safety hung in the balance, and he was worth more than what Gideon would sacrifice tonight.
As he lumbered across the room, Gideon’s skin prickled under the attention of too many eyes sizing him up. He wasn’t the only supernatural creature in the bar, but he didn’t fear the demons currently snacking on the insecure fears and lustful desires of the humans around them. They knew better than to attack an angel of his standing in the mortal realm. They remained in their corners as he acquired his.
Settling at a table in the corner with his back to the wall, Gideon ordered a whiskey and eyed the morally handicapped creatures sharing the human space. The only Fallen in the bar hunched his shoulders and focused on his beer, a clear submission.
Good.
Not that Gideon expected a fight. The mortal realm was, for all intents and purposes, neutral ground, but one could never be too careful. Blood was always a temptation, and his was finer than most.
The waitress, a human brunette showing too much cleavage, set his whiskey on the table with a flirtatious smile, but he dismissed her with a polite, albeit short, nod. She thankfully took the hint, and returned to the bar as the door to the pub swung open. If he hadn’t smelled her first—the telltale smoke and ash of the Fallen—Gideon would have recognized the newcomer’s overwhelming presence in an instant.
Tall and lithe, the female sauntered into the bar like she owned the place, stealing whatever breathable air remained in the room. Her platinum blonde hair curled around her face and tumbled over her shoulders in voluminous waves. Heads turned and voices hushed in the face of her beauty, and she drank in the attention like a fine wine.
Amber eyes flitted over the bodies in the bar, her ruby red lips pursing into a line until she spotted the object of her search. Her scowl morphed into a seductive grin when her gaze locked with Gideon’s, and she stalked toward him like a jungle cat closing in on its prey.
“Gideon.” Her greeting was more purr than spoken word, and Gideon inclined his head in polite acknowledgment.
“Tabitha.” He scanned the shockingly-red dress clinging to her frame, the hem stopping just shy of being inappropriate. “You look well.”
“Got these babies at half price.” She gestured to her knee-high, black heeled boots. “And you’re looking practically edible.”
Her sclera bled crimson for the briefest of moments as her stare devoured Gideon’s body. By the time she dropped into her seat, her eyes had returned to normal, disguising her true form.
Gideon gritted his teeth when the toe of her boot pressed against his leg under the table. From her naughty smirk, the touch was purposeful, and he masked his distaste, refusing to recoil as his body demanded.
Taking a swig of his whiskey, he lamented his inability to get drunk off the stuff. Submitting to intoxication wasn’t high on his list of enjoyable activities, but some situations required it. This was one of them, and he was suddenly desperate for a pint of ambrosia.
“How are you?” he asked, pointedly ignoring her wolfish grin as she rubbed his leg with her foot.
She flagged down the waitress and ordered a cosmopolitan before she answered. “I don’t think you’re here to talk about me, are you?”
“You never were one for small talk.”
“Neither were you.” She rolled her neck in a sensual motion, ending the display with a lascivious wink. “I happen to remember spending a memorable night or two with you not talking.”
At the reminder of their past, his face heated, and he fought his body’s urge to blush. He was centuries old, yet he still flushed like a human teenager when faced with things of a carnal nature. It provided Jairus and Noel with non-stop entertainment.
“You’re correct. Small talk was never my strong suit.” He disregarded the intended jab, triumph warming his chest when Tabitha’s brow furrowed. “Shall we skip the pretense, then?”
“If you like. My apartment’s not far from here.”
At the blatant invitation, the blood flooding Gideon’s cheeks warmed to boiling point, and he grudgingly dropped his gaze to the tabletop. Fighting for control over his traitorous body, he forced his expression to remain blank even as he drowned in embarrassment. Their tryst all those years ago was still a sore subject, at least for him, and she knew it.
Gideon’s list of sexual conquests was shorter than any male would feel comfortable admitting—she knew that, too—and her blunt proposal made his bones itch. Sex was complicated and messy, vulnerable; his right hand was familiar. Not that he had much of a drive for such things to begin with.
Jairus and Noel joked about his “monkhood,” as they so affectionately called it, but it was shameful how close they were to the truth. It had been a year—okay, more like years—since he had bedded a female. Rarely did the urge demand more than his hand and imagination. When it did, ambrosia was the perfect numbing agent; ambrosia and a confident female. Pathetic how he needed one to enjoy the other.
Thankfully, he had managed to keep his shortcomings in that department to himself. Angels talked, and secrets were a higher currency than most could afford to pay. It was bad enough Tabitha knew.
But she had always been good at discovering secrets, even before she fell. And she always knew exactly what to say to throw her opponents off balance. She was exceptional at exploiting weaknesses. Tonight was no different.
He resisted the urge to tug on his ear, a nervous habit he’d never shaken. “As flattering as your invitation is, I’ll have to decline.”
“Pity.” Tabitha pouted as her leather-clad foot massaged his calf once more.
“Do you have something for me or not?” He bit his tongue to bring his waspish tone under control, and one of her delicate eyebrows rose.
A smug grin teased her ruby lips as the waitress delivered her drink. She took her time sipping her cocktail before answering. “I have many things for you, dear. It just depends on what you’re looking for.”
The toes of her boot slid between Gideon’s legs, dangerously close to his groin, and he swallowed his pride and shifted away. It was a blow to his ego, a show of weakness, but her touching him so intimately was worse. It wasn’t what she would find, but what she wouldn’t that forced his hand.
It was her turn to smile in victory. “Oh, Gideon, still made of stone?”
“If you have nothing for me, I’ll take my leave.”
Laughing, she waved him down as the angel made to stand. “You always were a stick in the mud. Can’t two old friends joke about the past?”
With jaw clenched, his teeth ached, but he dropped into his chair as he thought of Riley. The boy was the reason he was here, after all. For the safety of his ward, of his brothers, Gideon would stomach Tabitha’s grating presence.
“When you’re finished entertaining yourself at my expense, I would like to bargain.”
“What’s the rush?” She nursed her cocktail, and he forced a plastic smile on his face.
“It’s been a long day.”
And wasn�
��t that an understatement? It had been a long decade, nay a century, and Gideon was tired. The Archangel Council hovered closer than usual. Gabriel breathed down Gideon’s neck hard enough the Primary Guardian could feel the metaphorical condensation on his skin. Riley’s genealogy record was missing from the Archives, and the truth surfacing about the child’s DNA wasn’t a cakewalk, either. Things were growing more complicated by the second.
“You look weary.”
Oh, how he wished her concern was genuine.
“Like I said, it’s been a long day. Shall we bargain?” He rolled up his dress shirt, revealing his wrist. “I assume you’d like the same payment as last time?”
Her eyes flickered red, eyeing the pulse at his wrist. “For starters.” Leaning back in her chair, she swirled the contents of her glass. “Word on the street is a Nephilim deep fried a pack of Leviathan’s hounds. Apparently, he threw quite the hissy fit when he found out. You know how he gets about his science experiments.”
“A Nephilim defeating an entire pack alone? Sounds far-fetched.”
“I think we both know the Nephilim wasn’t alone.”
Gideon emptied his glass, his expression blank. “Was the pack hunting for this Nephilim?”
“Hellhounds are always around, especially in highly populated areas. But from what I gathered, that pack was sent on a scouting mission. A demon was resurrected from Sheol, and he had interesting information to share with the Seven.”
Shit!
Gideon’s blood ran cold. He never expected the demon to be summoned from the lake of fire. Of course, when he’d beheaded the demon, he hadn’t known the creature had fed from Riley or that Riley was anything more than human. The execution had been simple procedure, but sending the demon’s rotting soul back to Hell had been a mistake. He should have ripped out its blackened heart to lock it in limbo for eternity.
“So, they sent the pack after this Nephilim?”
“They knew a Nephilim was in the area, and the hounds were sent to sniff them out. Apparently, the half-blood landed right in their path wrapped like a present, bow and all.”
“They don’t know who he is?” His jaw snapped shut with an audible clack at the slip, and Tabitha grinned.
“He? Interesting.” She drained her glass and chuckled. “At present, they do not know the identity of the Nephilim, but it won’t take them long to figure it out. How many Nephilim could there possibly be? Especially ones protected by three Guardians.”
He neither confirmed nor denied, which was a confirmation of sorts. Her smug smirk widened gleefully. “If the Nephilim is your ward, I suggest you request a reassignment, Gideon. They have their sights set on him, and they will cut down anyone who stands in their way.”
“If the child is my ward, you know that’s something I will never do.”
“Think of your Secondaries, of yourself. Is one Nephilim worth all your lives?”
Mere hours ago, Gideon had watched Riley weep for his lost heritage, cradled between his Secondaries. The boy had lost so much, yet he never stopped giving. He’d stepped between Gideon and the hellhound, using his body as a human shield. In that moment, Riley had been willing to die. It was a sacrifice of the highest honor, especially to a Guardian.
Of course, Riley didn’t know this or understand how deeply his actions had affected Gideon. The child had acted on instinct, or so he said. He’d only wanted to help. But Gideon hoped one day he could convey exactly what Riley’s actions meant to him. There was no greater respect, nothing held in higher esteem, than laying down one’s life for another.
For Gideon, the sacrifice had been personal. It was his body Riley had shielded, his life the child had saved. It was a debt Gideon was determined to repay tenfold.
Riley was Gideon’s ward, but there was so much more to the boy than could be explained in words. He was innocent, selfless, and kind. He would never take advantage of anyone, never ask Gideon or his Secondaries for anything. Maybe that was a good thing. Gideon feared they would give Riley anything and everything he could ever desire.
He was different, special, significant in a way that terrified Gideon to his core. Too many secrets shrouded the Nephilim in shadow, and it would be an uphill battle to uncover the truth. But Riley was worth the fight. He always would be.
Realizing he had yet to answer Tabitha’s question, Gideon squared his shoulders and stared her down. “Yes. He’s worth everything, and if the Seven want him, I’ll be the first standing in Hell’s way with my swords at the ready.”
“Let’s hope the Maker has your back. You’ll need all the help you can get.”
It wasn’t a threat, more of a resigned acknowledgment, and he dipped his head in agreement. “Here’s to hoping.” He raised his empty glass, and she copied him.
“About payment…”
“Shall we?” He motioned to the back exit, and she rose gracefully, refusing to straighten the hem of her dress which rode several inches higher than when she first sat down.
They’d barely exited the building before Tabitha shoved Gideon against the wall. The brick at his back punched a grunt from his lungs, but he bit back his disapproving hiss as she pressed into his space. She nuzzled the hollow of his throat, and anger flashed through him hot enough to spur action.
Snaking a hand into her hair, he yanked her away from him and scowled. “The wrist, if you don’t mind.”
“Is that really all you’re willing to give me?” She dragged a hand down his chest to his stomach then to the band of his slacks. Lower. With an inappropriate grope, she cupped the front of his pants, but her smirk puckered when she found him flaccid. “Guess time doesn’t change everything.”
Time changed many things, but it didn’t curb the cut her sharp words inflicted. Yes, he was defective, and not even time could cure him.
He dismissed the taunt, his face an impenetrable mask. “The wrist.”
Like a disappointed aunt, Tabitha sighed. “If you insist.”
Her fingers curled around Gideon’s wrist. He locked his muscles to stop the instinctive recoil as her sclera bled red and her fangs lengthened to deadly points. Without warning, she struck, sinking her fangs into his flesh. Every time, it hit him like a freight train.
Fallen angels and their demons could control the amount of pain they inflicted with a bite. On some level, he understood she was trying to be kind, because the discomfort was somewhat manageable. Still, it felt like searing lava trickling through his veins, and Gideon gritted his teeth.
He hated it. Every. Single. Time.
With every pull of his vein, Tabitha moaned, and she slumped in his hold as she suckled like a newborn. After feeding from humans for years, his blood was like the world’s finest cognac, and she succumbed to the incredible high like a strung-out junkie. Unable to let her fall, he circled his other arm around her waist and held her securely to his chest.
Each drag from his wrist sent waves of nausea crashing over him, but he leaned against the brick wall of the bar and closed his eyes. He blocked out the New Orleans jazz music and the scent of peaches drifting from Tabitha’s hair. He ignored the throbbing in his wrist and claustrophobia constricting his lungs.
Against his better judgment, Gideon thought of Riley. His power had been beautiful last night. Brilliant white, it had arced through the air, sizzling and popping like electricity. It had lit the night and chased away the darkness.
Gideon had wanted to touch it, to breach the distance and let the spindles of energy crackle over his palm. It wouldn’t have hurt him, he was sure of it, but he hadn’t reached out to test his resolve.
Such a foolish boy, putting himself in harm’s way, but not unexpected. Riley was a rare gem, buried deep and difficult to uncover. He was strong, stronger than he believed of himself. He was honest and good with a thirst for knowledge and a curiosity that might frighten a lesser man than Gideon.
His big, chocolate eyes would widen in wonder every time he learned something new. Gideon wanted to teach him everything
, to open his eyes to the universe. There was so much Gideon wished to show him.
And that, more than anything, scared Gideon the most. The depth of emotion stirring behind in his rib cage terrified him to his core, and he shied away from the alien feeling. He didn’t understand it, and what he couldn’t understand, he tended to discard. Life was easier that way, simpler.
At long last, Tabitha’s fangs retracted from Gideon’s wrist, and he jerked back to reality as she used his body to keep herself upright. “Maker, I’d forgotten.” She laved at the already sealed puncture wounds. They wouldn’t even scar. “I feel like I could fly again.”
She stumbled into the alley, her steps listless and wild. The back of her dress was open, showcasing the jagged scars on her back in the shape of a V. Gideon could still feel the heat of her blood on his hands. He still dreamt of her screams.
“Did I take too much?” With an unsteady hand she reached for him, but he waved off her concern.
Did she take too much? Probably. His head ached, and his vision blurred as he adjusted to the blood loss and diminished power. He prayed he had enough energy to make the jump back to the apartment before he sought refuge in Utopia. If Jai and Noel stayed with Riley, he could charge in the heavenly realm for at least one night.
Closing his eyes, he pictured their California apartment. Dokha and lilac teased his nose, mixing with the smokey sweet essence of Riley that had quickly permeated every corner of the place. He couldn’t escape that scent if he tried, and a small, unnerving part of him didn’t know if he wanted to.
Ugh, he needed to rest; he was losing his mind.
“Gideon.” Tabitha stopped him from disappearing, and he opened his hazy eyes in silent question. Genuine anxiety played over her features as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “They’re coming for your Nephilim. Be careful.”
Gideon nodded once as the familiar fishhook snagged his spine and tugged. “Until we meet again.”
Revelations: Fire & Brimstone Scroll 1 Page 27
