Like Octavian, his father was a big man that somehow appeared gentle and harmless at first glance. But Gideon had seen his father in battle, had seen the ruthless way he struck down whatever was in his path. It was a side of him he kept very carefully tucked away for his wife’s sake. Unlike her sons and her husband, she was naturally a gentle person. She was the sort to run to the aid of her fallen enemy rather than see them suffer. Of all the women Gideon had ever known in his many eons of existence, his mother was a rare gem that needed protecting at all cost.
“There you go.” Riley slid a mug of rich, warm chocolate in front of Imogen, who took it gratefully and wrapped thin, white fingers around the ceramic.
Gideon studied the girl, trying to determine what she was. It was clear she wasn’t human. But she wasn’t a Caster, nor was she a strigoi. He considered possibly a demon, but then they would see her true demonic form. There was no concealing that from them. She had to be a veil creature. It explained why she hadn’t returned with the other demons back to hell. Unlike demons, veil creatures were free to roam the earth because of their partial soul so long as they didn’t harm the humans. Unfortunately, there were so many different kinds that it was impossible to tell what race they were unless asked, which was, ironically, rude.
“Why don’t you tell us what happened?” his mother coaxed gently once Imogen was comfortable.
The girl stared at the ripples of her own reflection in the drink, seemingly not hearing the question. His mother opened her mouth to repeat it, when Imogen spoke.
“My family was attacked tonight,” she whispered. “I’m the only one left.”
“Attacked?” His mother exchanged a horrified glance with his father. “By whom?”
Imogen sniffled. “Strigoi, or at least I think ... it was dark and they waited until everyone was sleeping. I ... I was under the stairs.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I like to read down there. My sister hates ... hated...” Her voice hitched and Gideon braced himself to lunge for her if she started shrieking again. “She hated when I kept the lights on so I always snuck downstairs. I woke up to my sisters screaming. My dad found me. He told me to run and come here. He said you would know what to do.” She looked at them then and Gideon was struck by the full force of her desperation, of her hope and terror. “You will help, won’t you? Please!”
“Of course we will!” his mom said at once. “But let’s get you cleaned up and in bed. We’ll talk more in the morning once you’ve rested.”
“I can’t rest,” the girl protested. “My family needs me to save them.”
The tense silence could have been cut with a knife. No one in that room believed her family required saving anymore, not if it was as she said. Otherwise, one of them would have already arrived. The fact that she was alone was proof of that. Yet no one had the heart to tell her as much.
“We will go to your home,” his father said gently. “If there is anything we can do, we will. I promise.”
This seemed to comfort her. She relaxed and gave a grateful nod.
“In the meantime, why don’t you finish your drink and I’ll take you upstairs,” his mother suggested.
While Riley and his mother fussed over Imogen, his father motioned for the rest of them to follow him into the other room.
“I don’t think there’s anything any of us can do for her family,” Magnus said at once. “If they were attacked by a strigoi, they are dead.”
“But it is still our job to find those responsible and seek justice for her,” his father replied curtly.
“Why would a strigoi attack her family?” Reggie wondered. “They don’t hurt other non-human creatures. It’s not like they can drink their blood.”
“Maybe it wasn’t a strigoi,” Gideon voiced. “She never said she saw what it was, only that she heard her sisters screaming. It could be anything. A demon, perhaps.”
“Still doesn’t explain why,” his father said.
“Maybe her father owed them and didn’t pay,” Magnus supplied.
“We can stand here and assume all we want,” Octavian intervened. “We won’t know unless we go there and see for ourselves.”
Their father nodded. “Octavian’s right. Gideon, you and Octavian—”
“I’m staying here,” Octavian interrupted. “Whatever attacked her family could be tracking her. I’m not leaving Riley.”
“Riley’s stronger than you,” Magnus pointed out. “I think she can take care of herself.”
“I don’t care,” Octavian snapped back.
Their father raised his hands for silence. “Fine. Octavian, you and Reggie stay here and make sure everything’s locked up tight. I don’t think anyone is stupid enough to attack us here, but I’ve been wrong before.” He winced when he realized what he’d said. “Forgive me...”
Octavian shook his head, his jaw muscles set. “Exactly why I won’t leave her alone,” he said tightly. “Duncan may be dead, but there are still too many things Riley doesn’t know and until she does, she’s not safe.”
Their father and Octavian were both right. Not many were stupid enough to attack the manor, not when the Black Laws were in effect. But that hadn’t stopped them from being attacked. Duncan, the strigoi that had killed Riley was dead, but not before putting Octavian through hell first. Being unable to protect her was a guilt Gideon knew his brother wore heavily around his shoulders.
“I understand,” their father said.
Magnus didn’t say as much, but his expression stated very clearly that he didn’t understand. The ways of the heart eluded his brother. Fighting and being Casters, in Magnus’s opinion, was the only real important thing in life. But Gideon would give him this: Magnus didn’t trust easily, didn’t love easily, but when he did, it was with a fierce, almost frightening passion. There was nothing he wouldn’t do, no law he wouldn’t break to protect the small group of people in his life.
“We should go,” Magnus muttered. “If there are any survivors, they may need help.”
The group dispersed without a word.
Gideon left to get dressed as his father filled his mother in on the plan. It was clear that no one was getting any sleep that night.
The directions Imogen gave led them nearly six miles out of town. Gideon couldn’t fathom how she managed to walk that distance in nothing but a flimsy nightgown and bare feet, but she had, desperate to save her family. In the end, it had been for nothing.
Thick, black smoke coiled off the pile of singed wood. It rose into the air, leeching into the crisp predawn. Around the clearing, tops bowed as though in mourning, the trees shivered with the cold wind. Gideon stood away from the others, studying the scene with a sense of great burden falling onto his chest.
They hadn’t been fast enough.
Whoever had done the deed, had left eight scorched bodies in a neat row just far enough away from the calloused structure to leave no doubt that they’d been burned first. Then the house. They had gone so far as to place them by size, a sort of sick stepping game from largest to smallest, which looked to be a child of about six.
“Who would do this?” he heard himself say to no one in particular.
“Whoever they are,” Magnus moved to stand over the bodies. “They covered their tracks. There’s no way we’ll be able to identify cause of death with the bodies like this and the house in ruins.”
“But why?” Rather than face the house, their father was scanning their surroundings. “Why this family? Look at this place.” He waved a hand over the dirt road they’d come up. “It’s completely isolated. Not a neighbor in sight. The clearing is small, so the house would have been even smaller to give them enough room for the vegetable garden in the back. These were people who wanted to keep to themselves.”
Magnus turned away and sighed. “I think we need to have a talk with our visitor.”
The sun was making a slow rise to noon by the time they arrived home. The front room was empty, as was the kitchen. They found the group in the parlor upstairs. His
mother was at her desk, pouring over demon applications. Reggie sat in the far corner with a book open in his lap. Octavian was by the window. He must have told the others of their arrival, because no one looked surprised when the trio trudged into the room.
Imogen leapt to her feet off the sofa where she’d been sitting with Riley and turned to face them. The hope on her young face was devastating.
“Is my family all right?” she asked, gaze darting anxiously from face to face.
Gideon couldn’t do it. He dropped his head forward, turned on his heels and walked over to lean a hip against his mother’s desk.
“Darling.” His father motioned his mother over.
He didn’t even have to say another word. She was at Imogen’s side in an instant. Her arms slipped around the girl’s small shoulders and she guided her back down onto the sofa as his father moved to take the sofa across from them.
“We went to your house,” he began slowly, his voice reflecting the anguish on his face. “I’m sorry, my dear. There’s nothing left.”
For several rigid seconds, no one spoke. All eyes were on Imogen who was watching the man peering back at her with devastating heartbreak mirrored on his face.
"I don't understand," she said at long last. "They can't all..." She dampened her lips. "Not all! You have to be wrong."
"We're not."
"Magnus!"
Magnus, ignoring his mother's sharp retort, moved deeper into the room. He stopped when he was in danger of walking into the armchair facing the twin sofas.
"There were eight bodies, now if you tell me there's one missing..."
"Jesus Christ, Magnus!" Gideon snapped, genuinely horrified by his brother's callous disregard.
Exasperation blazed white hot across his brother’s face. “She came to us for help. We can’t help her if we don’t stop pussy footing. We need answers if we’re going to catch the sons of bitches.”
“I don’t know!” Imogen exclaimed. “I didn’t see anyone.”
Magnus waved dramatically towards her as though to say, there. See? Hopeless, before whirling on his heel and stomping across the room to toss himself down in a chair far away from everyone else.
“Then there is nothing we can do for you,” he grumbled, staring hard out the window.
“Magnus, that is enough,” their father said with an authority that had rarely ever been used. “It is our job to find those responsible, yes, but we are also here to give comfort to those who need it.”
Magnus said nothing, but Gideon could see the slight tick just beneath his right eye. Hardly anyone ever noticed the subtle twitch, but Gideon knew his brother well enough to recognize the concern Magnus was trying very hard to conceal.
“What’s going to happen to me now?” Imogen asked.
“You’re going to stay here, of course,” his mother said at once, without even an ounce of hesitation. “There are plenty of rooms and we can always use another girl around.”
On Imogen’s other side, Riley nodded as well.
It was pretty evident that the women had already made up their minds. Neither one seemed to care that they didn’t know a damn thing about their guest, not even her race. It only mattered that she was alone, scared, and too young.
Gideon couldn’t blame them. Even he had to admit that he probably would have done the same given the choice. Final Judgment wasn’t just their home. It belonged to anyone in need of sanctuary, except humans. There were strong spells placed by angels preventing humans from finding the manor. It wasn’t foolproof. Riley was proof of that, as was Daphne—Reggie’s mate and another human.
There had been one other human that had found them, Larry, but he’d been part demon. He was also the first person Gideon had ever seen get cleansed by the Guardians. He wasn’t sure what they’d done with his soul, probably destroyed it because of the demon blood, but Gideon had helped Octavian bury his body in the woods. Usually, the soul was reborn with no memory of their previous life. He’d heard that that was where the term déjà vu came from. However, it was clear that Imogen was not a human. If she was a demon, she would not be permitted to remain at Final Judgment. It was too risky, what with them guarding the gates of hell and all. The head demon council would be summoned and they would have to retrieve her. She would be their problem after that. It would be their responsibility to locate her family’s killer. The only association Casters had with demons was to either grant them permission to walk the human world, or kill them for breaking the contract.
“What are you?” he found himself asking when it became apparent that no one else would.
Imogen sniffled, wiping her nose and eyes with the crumpled bit of tissue Riley stuffed into her hand.
“I’m a bean sídhe,” she murmured.
A chorus of oh’s went up around the room as the mystery was solved. Only Riley looked confused by the confession.
“What’s a bean salad?” And just like that, everyone chuckled, even Imogen.
“Bean sidhe!” the girl repeated, pronouncing sidhe loudly and carefully.
“She’s a banshee.”
Octavian moved away from the window to perch down on the armrest next to Riley’s shoulder. She instinctively leaned into him and was rewarded by the feel of his hands on her shoulder.
“Aren’t they usually old hags that stop souls from crossing over?”
A crinkle formed on Imogen’s brow, a sign of indignation. “Our wails help souls move on. It’s how we mourn for the dead. It’s worse when we’re infants, you know, crying all the time. But we get better at controlling it when we get older.”
“That’s why you lived in seclusion,” his father deduced.
“We used to live closer to a town,” Imogen said sorrowfully. “But my youngest sister was born and she cried a lot. The locals began suspecting the woods were haunted and people started tromping through it, looking for ghosts. Dad said we had to find somewhere further away.”
“Sweetie.” His mom edged closer to the girl. “Is there nothing you can remember about last night? A smell, maybe? A sound? Did your father say what was after you?”
“Has anyone strange been coming around that you may have noticed?” his father piped in.
Brutal concentration twisted Imogen’s face. Her green eyes darted back and forth as though scanning the pages of a book for clues. Her thin, pale brows were drawn together tight and frustration colored her cheeks. She bit her bottom lip with enough force to draw blood.
“No!” she blurted after several long, tense minutes. Her thin shoulders slumped inward in defeat. “I shouldn’t have run. I should have stayed and helped...”
“You did the right thing coming here, Imogen,” his mom told her gently. “Whoever did this wouldn’t have let you live.”
Imogen looked down at her hands and the tight knit of her fingers. “What good does living do me? My family is dead. I’m completely alone.”
“Oh, darling, no.” His mom hugged her, tucking Imogen’s ashen face into the crook of her shoulder. “You are welcome to stay with us for as long as you want. We’ll keep you safe.”
Looking on the verge of tears, Imogen pulled out of the other woman’s embrace and rose to her feet.
“Can I lie down for a few minutes? I just ... I don’t feel very good.”
With a sympathetic arm around her shoulders, his mom showed Imogen from the room. Everyone else remained seated, lost in their own thoughts. It was Magnus who leaped to his feet, determination a rigid ruler forced across his shoulders.
“I’m going to the market,” he announced. “Someone down there’s bound to know who would be after a family of banshees.”
While their father nodded and rose, Gideon studied the thin cracks in the worn curve of his boots. He’d been meaning to get new ones. But the old ones were just so comfortable. Nevertheless, footwear wasn’t the thing on his mind.
“What if it was humans?” he blurted without thinking.
The conversation between his brother and father inst
antly halted. All eyes turned to him.
“What do you mean, Gideon?” his father pressed.
Gideon raised his head and fixed each face with a look before speaking. “Think about it. Demons don’t attack veil creatures—”
“Unless provoked,” Octavian reminded him. “We still don’t know if the father had anything to do with this.”
“Yes...” Gideon pushed up to his full height. “But why? These were clearly beings that lived simple, had simple means and only wanted to be left alone. I don’t think they’d go making deals with demons in the cloak of darkness.”
“What are you getting at, Gid?” Magnus demanded, visibly getting agitated by the useless chatter when action needed to be taken.
“Well, if demons didn’t do this and we didn’t do this and the strigoi are forbidden to—”
“It could have been an inanimis,” Reggie interrupted, tickling Gideon’s impatience.
“Why?” he shouted. “Inanimis need human blood. Killing demons, or veil creatures, is just a waste of their time.”
“The strigoi aren’t forbidden to harm other creatures like us,” his father said quietly. “They are well in their right to attack anyone they wish, so long as no human is harmed. It could have very well been one of the five covens.”
It still didn’t make sense to Gideon. The act was too brutal, too calculated. It was a message, not an execution. He just didn’t know how to convey his assumptions into words. His family was right. The variables were just too many.
“See what you can find at the market,” their father told Magnus.
“Need company?” Reggie took a step forward.
Magnus hesitated and Gideon knew why. Magnus hated going to the market on a good day, having his baby brother tagalong probably wasn’t what he wanted. But he gave a jerk of his head that could have passed for a nod and stomped from the room with Reggie on his heels.
Octavian rose off the armrest, but kept a hand on Riley’s shoulder as he spoke. “I told Mom I would go over a few of the applications before the doors open.”
Gideon's Promise (Sons of Judgment Book 2) Page 3