Gideon's Promise (Sons of Judgment Book 2)

by Morgana Phoenix

  “That is for my father to decide,” she answered sharply. “It’s not my place—”

  “To decide which man you take to bed?” he provoked hotly. “To decide who you spend the rest of your life with and bear children with?”

  “That is not why I brought you here!” she shouted back at him, her cheeks red. “What I do with my life and how I chose to live it is not your concern!”

  He snorted, knowing he was goading her, but not caring. He was pissed. He wanted to kill someone. “It’s clearly not your concern either. How can you be so calm about being treated like a prized cow ready for breeding?”

  “How dare you insult me in my own home?” her outrage was lost in the shriek of wood against stone when she leapt to her feet. “You’ve gone too far this time, Maxwell.”

  “Gideon!” he snarled back, charging to his own feet and slamming his fists on the table. “Damn you! It’s Gideon, and you know I’m right. You deserve better.”

  Her nostrils flared. Her hands gave the smallest tremble at her sides, whether with anger or something else, he didn’t know, or care.

  “You have no right,” she ground out. “No right at all.”

  She stormed out of the room before he could think to say another word. His own rage snapped like hot flames. It took all his resolve not to break everything in sight; not to pitch the chairs across the room and upend the table.

  He was being an idiot. He knew he was, and she was right, he had no right to tell her who she could and couldn’t marry. Just because he refused to mark her didn’t mean he had any sort of right over her. But fuck! The very idea of her being promised off to another man ... the chair took the blunt force of his kick and crashed to the floor. It was all he could do to keep from running after her and doing the unthinkable.

  She wouldn’t thank him for it though. He knew that as well. Being bound to him for eternity was probably the last thing she wanted. Yet losing her filled him with a pain that made him want to throw up. Her hatred for him was like a ball of serrated nails wedged deep in the pit of his stomach. She had hated him for so long that he had lost count of the years and all because of one careless mistake.

  1693, Salem Town, Massachusetts

  He could save them. Maybe not all of them, because that would be impossible, but he knew he could save the girl in the cage.

  She was a tiny thing with eyes much too big for her round face. Her bird-like frame was curled in the corner with her back against the iron bars. She had been given a special spot at the very front of the crowd, to watch as the town’s men, men she’d known all her life, built a structure of wood to execute her by.

  Gideon took another bite of the apple he’d stolen from a vendor’s cart. The fruit had no real flavor, at least none that he cared to relish in. His focus was too fixated on the horrors unfolding only yards away.

  The girl was yet another accused. Whether it was falsely or not, he hadn’t bothered to ask. It hardly mattered. She was barely more than a child. Five girls had been burned before her just the day before and the stench of their death continued to impregnate the air like a dark omen.

  He hadn’t been able to save them.

  It wasn’t his job to save humans from their own stupidity. Had they been terrorized by things from his world, well, that would have been a different matter. But the fact remained, he was facing human issues. Not demonic.

  The apple went soaring over his left shoulder and struck the ground several yards behind him. He wiped the juices off his fingers onto his trousers.

  Octavian would kill him. His brother had no patience for meddling. His heart was in the right place, and he was right, as always, but Gideon had never been very good at just walking away.

  Mind made up, Gideon took his first and only step.

  A rustle from a nearby set of trees had all heads turning in the direction. The commotion faltered as a group of men burst forward, dragging with them a furious and wild figure. Gideon stared, captivated as the girl was forcibly brought forth.

  “We found her trying to break into the prison,” one man said as he shoved the girl forward.

  Her skirts caught and she staggered, but regained her footing quickly and swung around viciously.

  “Get your filthy hands off me!” she snarled, giving a surprisingly violent shove to the man closest to her. “I will not let you burn these girls.”

  From the darkness, a figure emerged, tall and pale with an aura that pulsed as black as his soul. He held a book to his thin chest and his expression was one of mild disgust as he looked upon the girl.

  “To protect this evil goes against God’s design,” he said in his silky smooth voice. “If you are not with us, then you are against us and must die.”

  The girl, teeth bared, lashed out. “I dare you to try!”

  Beneath the smears of filth on her face, she was breathtaking. Her blue eyes shone as bright and brilliant as sunlight reflecting off calm waters. Around her, strength, courage, and power radiated.

  She wasn’t human.

  Gideon was enthralled. He watched as the man signaled for her to be captured and placed in the cage with the other girl. Gideon was about to stop them, to warn them that if they touched her, he would have to kill all of them—a fact that momentarily stunned him. But there was no need for it.

  The girl swung with a curled fist and the crunch of breaking bones snapped through the night. It wouldn’t have been so shocking, if the man hadn’t gone sailing back into a tree nearly five feet away. Wood splintered and the man slumped facedown in the dirt, unmoving.

  No one moved for a moment as all stood in horror and disbelief.

  “She’s a witch!” the dark man snarled, getting his bearings once more. “Seize her!”

  The group of men weren’t as adamant this time, but an order was an order and they didn’t want to get accused of being sympathizers so they shifted forward in a tight cluster. Gideon wanted to laugh. Grown men, afraid of a tiny girl barely coming to their shoulders. Then she lashed out again and he quickly changed his thoughts.

  She was beautiful. Dark hair flew around her as she dodged and weaved like a majestic creature. So graceful, but precise with every attack. She could have dominated them all, had her skirt not caught around her feet and sent her sprawling into the dirt.

  They were on her then, a pack of angry and bloodthirsty beasts. Their hands closed around her arms, her hair and she was dragged to her feet. She growled and tried to lash out, but they had her.

  The dark man moved forward. He blocked Gideon’s view of the girl, but there was no mistaking his actions when he heard the resounding crack of flesh meeting flesh. A thin sliver of red trickled from her bottom lip when he shifted aside again.

  Gideon’s blood roared. His vision darkened a moment as the entire world howled between his ears. Fury unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life blazed through his veins. His boots ate the space keeping him from her and he was across the clearing in seconds.

  “Who are—?”

  His fist slammed into the mouth of the speaker, snapping his head back as blood flew from the gash in his lip. Gideon went for the others next, barely restraining himself from killing each one of them. Unlike them, he wasn’t a murderer.

  Leaving them in a heap at the girl’s feet, he rounded on the dark man. Anger coursed down his arms to crackle at his bunched fingers. He knew, even before he’d taken the first step that he would kill this one and he would enjoy it.

  “No!” The girl hurried forward and put herself between him and his quarry.

  Gideon growled deep in his throat. “He struck you.”

  She wiped the back of her hand across her bloody mouth. “Yes.” She raised those blue eyes to his face. “Which is why I want him.”

  Breathing hard, he considered it. He considered ignoring her and just beating the devil out of the bastard. But he relented. He stepped back as she turned on the shaken man watching them decide his fate. The others, the men who had been so busy erecting the stand o
n which to burn yet another innocent soul had yet to move. They stood rooted to their places, frozen in fear as they watched the girl grab their leader by the throat and shove his bony frame backwards.

  “Open the cage!” she commanded. “Open it!”

  A man hurried forward, keys jingling in his hands as he found the right one. The girl inside the pen scrambled out the moment the door was open.

  “Run!” the girl told her. “Get as far away from here as possible.”

  “Thank you!” the girl sobbed before dashing off.

  No one was stupid enough to stop her.

  The dark man was forced into the cage in her place and the door was sealed behind him. She reached into the folds of her skirt and removed a small pouch. From within, she drew out a pinch of sand that glittered in the moonlight. She said something in a tongue Gideon didn’t recognize and blew it into the man’s face. The moment it struck him, he began to scream, long, agonizing wails that tore through the clearing as though he were being mauled by a bear. He clutched at his face, cutting deep gashes that oozed blood. Gideon almost pitied him. Almost.

  The girl turned to the group.

  “Go home to your families,” she ordered in a clear, crisp voice. “Anyone I see out tonight, will join him.”

  No one stayed to argue. The hurried rush of footsteps pounded through the forest as all present dashed back to the safety of their homes.

  Gideon remained. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not without her.

  Studying the dark man as he continued to shriek and rip strips of flesh from his face a moment longer, she picked up her skirt and started into the woods in the opposite direction of the village.

  “Hey!” Gideon hurried after her. “Wait. Who are you?”

  She stopped and faced him. “You should go home,” she told him.

  “Not until you tell me who you are.”

  Shadows danced over her features, but her eyes continued to shimmer as though illuminated by a glow from within.

  “Valkyrie.”

  Chapter Three

  Magnus and Reggie weren’t back when Gideon and his father returned to the manor. His mother, Riley, and Imogen sat in the main room when they walked in. Octavian was at the bar, systematically arranging bottles behind the counter for that evening’s crowd.

  His mother’s head came up when the door shut behind them. Her face broke into a brilliant smile that was returned by his father as he crossed to her and pressed a kiss to her waiting mouth.

  Gideon moved to the bar. He needed a damn drink.

  “How was the meeting?” she asked his father when he pulled away.

  “Uneventful and a waste of my time,” he answered.

  “Didn’t Arild have anything useful to say?” she asked as he pulled a chair over and dropped into it.

  Gideon poured himself a very tall glass of whiskey and went to dump himself into a stool at the bar.

  “Solitudinem fecerunt, pacem appelunt,” Gideon mumbled absently to himself as he watched the gentle sway of light along the rim of his glass.

  Or maybe Cicero had said it better: silent enim leges inter arma. In times of war, the law really did fall silent. Everyone wanted something and it was never peace. Arild Devereaux was no exception. Getting them brought to the manor, demanding an audience, and for what? It was all about control, to prove that he was lord and master of all. That when he summoned, all bowed to his command. It was all just another game.

  “Tacitus?” Octavian eyed him with an arched brow. “Solitudinem fecerunt, pacem appelunt—they made a desert and called it peace.”

  Gideon smirked as the cool glass touched his lips. “They were both such wise men.”

  Octavian frowned. “Both?”

  Gideon opened his mouth to recite Cicero out loud, but his father was speaking.

  “Nothing,” he was saying with a mild hint of exasperation in his voice. “Of course he made it sound like everything he was saying was important, but he knows about as much as we do. The harpies were attacked last night, probably about the same time as...” He shot Imogen an apologetic smiled. “He believes it’s a group of demons.”

  His mother sighed. “This is just horrible.”

  His father nodded. “We did agree to double our patrols. We’re going to call a meeting with the other leaders, see if we can’t organize a hunting party. I must contact the humans and make them aware of the situation in case those involved expand their spree to them.” He rubbed at his face in frustration and swept his hand back through his hair. “Arild thinks the attacks are personal, a possible vendetta against the families, or a single member of said family—”

  “No one in my family has ever associated with demons,” Imogen interrupted. “My father believed very strongly that we needed to keep to ourselves. It wasn’t safe.”

  “What wasn’t safe, Imogen?” his mother asked.

  Imogen took a deep breath. “We predict death,” she explained. “When the war began, my kind refused to take sides and a lot of us were slaughtered because of it. But we knew why we were wanted so badly and we couldn’t let ourselves be used like that.”

  “Why?” Riley asked. “I mean about being wanted so badly.”

  “Banshees have the ability to foretell the outcome of a battle,” Octavian said from across the room. “With them on your side, you will know if your side will win, or if you should escape to fight another day. It’s an unfair advantage, but it was drastic times.”

  Imogen nodded. “We’ve been hiding ever since. My father would never put us in danger by going to a demon for anything.”

  “What about your mother? Or sisters?” Gideon prompted.

  “Never,” Imogen said at once. “My mother was terrified that we would get found. My sisters were all too young to even know how to summon a demon, never mind actually strike a bargain with one.”

  “What about the harpies?” Riley asked, looking from one face to the next. “Did they take sides during the war?”

  His mom and dad exchanged glances, both deliberating the question.

  “The harpies joined the demons, I believe,” his mother mused quietly, but she seemed unsure. “It was so long ago.”

  “I believe you’re right,” his father agreed.

  “Had they joined the angels in the war, would they have been Casters as well?” Riley asked.

  “I think it was Pindaros who said, dulce bellum inexpertis—war is sweet for those who haven’t experienced it,” Gideon recited smoothly, taking a swig of his drink.

  “Not everyone who joined the angels became Casters,” his father said, ignoring Gideon. “Most were assigned other tasks. Others were sent back to their homes until the next war.”

  Riley seemed to think about this. Gideon could almost see the wheels turning behind her eyes.

  “Could it be the angels doing this?” she said at last.

  His mother blinked. “The angels? Why would they want to kill anyone? The war is over.”

  Riley shrugged. “Maybe they’re bored, or maybe they want to be prepared. I don’t know.”

  It was his father who shook his head and answered, “No, I don’t believe it’s the angels. Demons I would believe.”

  “What about another veil creature?” Octavian added. “Perhaps someone with a grudge.”

  His father rose to his feet with an audible sigh. “It could be anyone,” he said. “We won’t know until we do some more digging, and hopefully stop any further attacks before they happen.” He rounded his eyes on Gideon when Gideon lifted his whiskey to his lips. “I saw Valkyrie before we left. She seemed upset.”

  Refusing to meet the ten pairs of eyes scrutinizing his every movement, Gideon took another sip, licked his lips before speaking.

  “Quod scripsi scripsi—what I have written, I have written,” he recounted to his glass.

  “Oh stop with the quotes, Gideon,” his mother scolded. “What does that even mean?”

  Gideon narrowed his eyes. “You’d have to ask John 19:22. He said it fi
rst.”

  His mother seemed highly unimpressed with his cleverness. “Well, I hope you will apologize for whatever you said to that girl.”

  Gideon blinked. He turned his gaze to his mother and blinked again. “What makes you think I had anything to do with her sour mood? It could be that time of the month for all we know.”

  It was aggravating and amusing that no one looked like they believed him.

  “She’s one of us, Gideon.” His father’s calm response had Gideon’s head coming around in surprise. How could his father possibly know that? Then he was speaking again. “There aren’t many of us left. It wouldn’t do to start isolating others, especially now.”

  Of course. It had nothing to do with the fact that Valkyrie was Gideon’s mate. They were talking about the attacks and banding together. He should have felt relief.

  “What can I say,” he hoisted his feet up on the table and leaned his chair back on two legs. “Women either want to spank me, or strip me naked. Sometimes at the same time.” He grinned wickedly at Imogen, who flushed and quickly looked away.

  “Where did you get that ego of yours?” his mother huffed.

  “Walmart,” Gideon answered at once. “They had a two for one.”

  Riley laughed, but she was the only one, and the only one he winked slyly at. That was what he loved about her, no matter how bad his jokes were, she always laughed.

  “Has there been any word from Magnus and Reggie?” his father interrupted before his mother could plow on with whatever speech she had rolling around in her head.

  Deterred, his mother shook her head. “I don’t expect to see them until this evening.” She worried her lip between her teeth. “I hate when he goes there.”

  Moving around the table, his father rested his hand slightly on her shoulders. “As do I, but he’s the only one they’ll talk to.”

  “That’s because he’s scary as all shit,” Gideon said simply. “I wonder if he got that from the same sale I got my ego from...”

  He grinned at his mother’s scowl.

  “I suppose there’s nothing for us to do now but—”