Gideon

by Sharon Hamilton

  She felt the flush of her cheeks. He walked up behind her, moving her hair off her shoulder to the right. “I want to show you something before we go see Manfred.” He lifted the fabric of her dress to up over her rear.

  “Again?”

  “No, this is something else. Whoa! No panties?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Of course,” he growled into her ear. “I like it that way, too. You’re a nasty little minx, aren’t you? You sure Father hasn’t eavesdropped on those dreams you must have been having for years?”

  “I don’t think I had any dreams like that.”

  “Honey, I’m sure you’ve been practicing in your sleep. There’s not a doubt in my mind.” His fingers continued lifting the dress up and over her right shoulder, exposing her left one. He allowed his fingertips to travel the surface of her flesh until she felt them find her wing sacs. His probing made her wet. She leaned her head against his right shoulder.

  He turned her around so her back was to the mirror.

  “You see these?” He lightly touched the sacs, which had puckered and folded up on themselves like her nipples knotted from stimulation.

  “So what is it? They’re sensitive. I can say that. Maybe more so.”

  “I’d certainly think so, angel.” He inhaled and stepped back away from her. “Unfurl them.”

  She frowned, not sure what he was talking about. She closed her eyes.

  “Wait!” Gideon repositioned her so she was facing the mirror again, but he took two steps behind her, crossing his arms and commanded, “Now.”

  She obeyed. Her wings had difficulty unfolding and laying out as she brought her arms above her head, palms up, but finally she felt the rumble and friction of a massive set of light grey feathers. The undersides were light rose-colored, which extended down to their tips. She was shocked.

  “No more gossamer, my angel. You lost your training wheels.”

  “What does it mean?”

  Gideon admired them, rubbing his hands along the heavy crest where the large cartilage was veined. His movements tickled a bit.

  “Beautiful. Never seen anything like this before,” he said, not hiding his awe and worship. “And these are way bigger, aren’t they?”

  “They are. How do they work?”

  “We’ll try them out tonight on the way over. As for encasing them back, you have to add a little more concentration until you learn the hang of it. But here I am, day three almost, and I’m a pro already. It won’t take you long, the way you pick up on things so fast.”

  He winked at her and again a blush overtook her cheeks.

  “Go ahead and try it,” he mused.

  She lowered her head and furrowed her brow, concentrating.

  Gideon stopped her. “No, don’t bend your head. Hold your arms like this, like you’re holding a large fluffy dog that weighs fifty pounds.” He demonstrated and she copied him. The feathers found their homes. She rolled her neck and rotated her shoulders in a circular motion until she felt everything encase back into place and lay flat.

  “You got it, kid. You’re a natural.”

  She stared back at him in the mirror. “So, Gideon, what am I?”

  “That’s what we’re going to find out.”

  Chapter 15

  They arrived at Manfred’s without a problem. Persephone’s powerful rose-tipped wings had helped her frolic in the sky, rolling and swooping down at speeds to make her invisible to humans below. He let her soar on her own while he kept a watchful eye for any unwanted visitors. But he suspected her unique pattern of feathers and color would be eye candy to any other angel: dark, Guardian, or otherwise.

  She’d intuitively picked her shade of dress to match these soft colors before she was even aware of them. Her mental alterations while flying enabled her full use of her wingspan and capabilities. He knew she enjoyed the change and the power pulsing in her veins. He felt the same way.

  Francis had already arrived when they got to the clockmaker’s. They saw him through the storefront windows, chatting with Manfred, examining the many relics and inventions curiously hanging from the rafters. In the full light of day, the various moving timepieces and geared doll parades looked even more bizarre than at night under candlelight. Before they could enter, the outside swarm of mechanical gnat-like insects buzzed them again.

  Persephone didn’t like them, he could tell. “Don’t swat them away. You remember what Manfred said about their parts?”

  “Yes. But they are annoying as hell.”

  “His built-in alarm system. Quite menacing and effective, too. The guy’s a one-of-a-kind all right.”

  Persephone turned the door handle, and Gideon quickly brushed her hand aside and positioned himself to open the door ahead of her. “You have to let me do that, my angel.”

  She touched his lips with her forefinger. “Got it.”

  Manfred looked up and grinned, his teeth stained red from his Red-X morning potion. Behind him, Francis’s face was pale, his eyes wide, and his mouth gaping.

  “Whatever have you done?” gasped his Guardian friend.

  Gideon stiffened. “Nice to see you, too, Francis.”

  “She’s lovely. Even more so than she was yesterday.” Manfred approached her and took her hand, twirling her around like they were on a dance floor. “Look at this. Stunning. Never seen anything so beautiful.”

  His eyes sparkled a little too much for Gideon’s taste, and he emitted a low-level growl when Persephone blushed.

  “She still blushes like a young bride!” Manfred said, clapping his hands together and disregarding the protest. “You will be battling the minions of the Underworld for centuries, my friend. I hope you’re up to the task.”

  Gideon held onto her hand, squeezing her tight and removing her from Manfred’s reach.

  “So now what?” asked Francis to no one in particular.

  “Now we get our facts straight, and we make a plan,” answered Gideon. Francis shrugged and shook his head as he watched Persephone, who wandered the store examining objects.

  “Oh, excellent!” Manfred’s mood was nearly giddy. “I love planning a big adventure.”

  Francis’s face was sour. Persephone was distracted by a branch covered in mechanical parakeets that were chirping away, some of them forming single word sentences to show off. Their feathers looked like folded pieces of pastel origami paper. She held her finger out to the branch, and one of the birds stepped up to perch there, turning his head from side to side to watch her with both his eyes, one at a time. She brushed his underbelly with her other forefinger, and the bird arched tall in appreciation.

  “These are exquisite,” she whispered.

  “I’d be happy to send you a pair. They are like real parakeets, even do everything living birds do—except procreate, of course. That, I’m afraid, is above my pay grade.”

  “Yes,” Persephone said as she distractedly allowed the pale turquoise bird to resume his position amongst the rest of his flock.

  “But they can sustain flight longer than real birds, my dear.”

  Gideon found this fascinating.

  “Well, not to spoil the party,” Francis whined, “but I’ve had a very busy morning. I smell of cleaning fluids, and I’ve not stopped working since I left you two earlier. I trust you got some rest, because I sure didn’t.”

  Gideon grinned and shared a twinkle with Manfred.

  Francis was back to scowling and shaking his head again. “You want to tell Manfred here about our visitors?”

  The clockmaker motioned to the back room doorway. “Not here. The walls have eyes and recording devices, and the public can be too curious.” He pointed to the shop front door and the Open sign flipped to show Out Of Time to any passersby. The metal hardware also clicked as if some invisible hand had locked it.

  Gideon nearly stepped on Tabby, who scooted around his pants leg, gave a wide berth to Persephone and was the first one to cross the doorway to the anteroom.

  A strange smel
l permeated the room. “What the bloody hell are you making here, Manfred?” moaned Francis behind his mankerchief.

  The clockmaker pointed to three new band-aids on his forehead, all three with Disney characters stamped on them. “Wart removal this morning. If I don’t keep up with it, I’d look like an avocado—you know, the gnarly kind?—inside of two weeks. I’m working on a remedy.”

  “I think sometimes the remedy is worse than the affliction,” muttered Francis, who then was overcome with a series of sneezes. “Damn it. Feathers. The air is thick with feather hormones.”

  “I performed a surgery this morning, too.”

  Gideon didn’t want to ask, but Persephone eclipsed his curiosity. “Surgery? What kind?”

  “Wing removal.”

  Gideon wasn’t sure he’d heard the clockmaker correctly, but let it go. Francis’s forehead was covered in lines of worry. Persephone squeezed Gideon’s hand and stood closer.

  “You actually do wing removals? Like one at a time?” Francis’s defiance to accept the reality of the new world he was being introduced to laced his words, and he sounded like a skeptical teenager arguing with his parents.

  “Of course, one at a time. It’s a very delicate operation and can have horrible consequences if not done expertly.”

  Francis would not give up that easily. “Where would you even have the space to do that?” His arm swept over the room, demonstrating all the workbenches and the red table in the center were covered with equipment and spare parts.

  The clockmaker polished his glasses on his overalls bib and repositioned the wires over his ears. “Come.”

  He led the way to a glass door that made a huge sucking sound when it was opened. The trio of angels didn’t follow him inside, but hung back and crowded the doorframe.

  “This is where the real work is done. I do surgical alterations on request. Sometimes bots need soft tissue repairs on an emergency basis if they’ve gotten into trouble. I’m a sort of Emergency Room for those who cannot frequent a human hospital, of course.” His chest rose with pride. “If I could, I’d spend 24/7 here.”

  The grey-speckled floor glistened under the sunlight of a large moveable skylight half the size of the room. Several metal gears and chains with various attachments and straps hung in a row on one side of a pristine stainless steel operating table. The place reminded Gideon of some auto body shops where they did motor replacements and remounts. Equipment lined one wall, including a portable X-ray, crash cart, and tanks connected with plastic tubing and face-piece devices.

  However, one thing differed from a standard auto body shop. Next to the operating table and theater of wide-angle surgical lamps was an identical table, affixed with strapping obviously intended to hold down an unwilling patient. Attached to the table, a plastic drain tube was still dripping light pink liquid into a floor drain rimmed with a puddle of near-clear fluid. It had recently been cleaned.

  Manfred took out two blue plastic sheets and covered the tables, as well as the cart of glistening silver surgical tools between the two tables. He looked up at his stunned audience still bunched at the doorway and smiled sweetly. “All in a day’s work.” He headed toward them, and they parted like the Red Sea. “Now, let’s get down to business.”

  The clockmaker removed several parts to a life-sized doll’s anatomy, including a leg still with a shoe attached, which looked like it had been run over by a train. The leather of the shoe was sliced. The mangled foot and ankle still barely attached with mechanical tendons, and the leg itself revealed different colored wires and tubing at the upper thigh level, as if it had suddenly sprouted worms. He wiped the red table down to a polished sheen and then instructed his audience to sit in the chairs still left from their earlier morning encounter.

  “Tell me about your visitors,” he ordered Gideon.

  “Two of them. Deformed, reddish-brown devils with velvet wings and yellow fangs.”

  “Did they have a human component?”

  “Not much, except their faces. Not at all like how I remembered them.”

  “And who were they when you recalled what they used to look like?” the clockmaker asked matter-of-factly.

  “Brothers. Vampire brothers to a red bitch I used to know.”

  Manfred’s eyes sparkled again. “Charming. She was a paramour?” He quickly shifted his gaze to Persephone. “Sorry, my dear, but I need to know certain things first before I can help.”

  She gave an efficient nod, squeezing Gideon’s hand until it almost hurt.

  “Yes, in a way.”

  “Oh, good God, man. Tell him the truth. Gideon was her pet, in every sense of the word. And she was his maker,” spouted Francis furiously. “You have to call it by name before you can defeat it. Haven’t humans taught you anything?”

  Manfred thought this hilarious and had difficulty controlling his belly laugh. “I knew I liked you the first time I met you, Francis. Have you any idea how many of those political types I run in to in the Underworld?”

  “Occupational hazard, I’d say,” Francis retorted smugly.

  “To be sure,” answered the clockmaker. “So she kept you. And didn’t treat you with much respect, I’m guessing?”

  “No.” Gideon was ashamed. His voice had retreated deep in his chest, and it was but a whisper. Persephone placed their joined hands on his thigh and gently rubbed it under the table, which made him feel better.

  “These guys were not really human,” added Francis with a sneer.

  “They weren’t human at all. They were vampire, at best,” corrected Gideon.

  “The deformation is from what they’ve been feeding off. Sounds like they got their fangs into some dark angels, perhaps some disease bots,” added the clockmaker.

  Everyone turned to him.

  “Yes, yes. We have disease bots. Sexual assassins, really.”

  Gideon swore under his breath.

  “Not to worry, my friend.” Manfred got up to bring over some fresh fruit and Red-X in a wine carafe. “The effects are immediate. You’d have lots of symptoms in twenty-four hours if your little liaison were with one of them. And they don’t generally recall them home, since they fall apart within a few days.”

  Gideon heard his angel swallow hard.

  “And you, my lovely,”—the clockmaker smiled at Persephone—“would not look so glowing, either.”

  “So, what else aren’t you telling us?” asked Gideon on the verge of a growl. The longer he heard the stories, the more concerned he was for his Guardian’s welfare, not to mention his own. But that was secondary.

  “If she has dozens of brothers and other slaves, she’ll use them to drag your carcass back.”

  “And what about Ashley? The girl? Gideon is really concerned about her,” Persephone spoke up.

  Gideon developed a nervous tick in his right eye and rolled his shoulder, suddenly feeling pain from an old injury. He’d forgotten what she even looked like.

  The clockmaker poured four tumblers of Red-X, but all the angels hesitated. “This is harmless and not nearly as strong as they serve in the Underworld. But the effects will be felt, since you’re not used to it up here.” He sipped his slowly and continued. “Let me see if I can find a picture here.” He rummaged through a drawer in the table, pulling out a thick deck of laminated cards. “Hair color?”

  “Red,” Gideon whispered.

  “Big on top?” The clockmaker demonstrated by holding his splayed fingers to his chest. “Or smaller?”

  “Big.” Gideon glanced at Francis, who was having too much fun at his expense.

  “And lastly. Her special power?”

  “What do you mean?” demanded Francis.

  “Did you fuck her, too?” asked the clockmaker.

  “I certainly did not!”

  “Come on, Gideon. I know you know the answer to this.”

  Everyone was watching him, and he knew he had the answer Manfred was looking for. “Healing,” he mumbled.

  “What’s that?”
<
br />   “Healing,” Gideon said forcefully.

  “You drank from her, is that right?”

  “I did.” Gideon’s blood pressure was rising. He was close to dismembering the clockmaker and suspected some of the questions being asked were just for the old man’s pleasure and not relevant to the matter at hand. “Is that a problem?”

  “Not at all. Made you feel good, like vitamins, didn’t it? I mean, you know.” He pointed to Gideon’s groin area.

  “Fuck this!” he said as he stood, yanking Persephone’s arm, which brought her to her feet as well. “If I’d have known there was going to be this intense scrutiny, I would have never come. There are lots of things we’ve all done we’re not proud of. Do you have to fuckin’ throw it in my face?”

  “Sit down, Gideon. I’m not here to hurt you in any way. Just doing my little form of aftermarket research. See, I made your little fuck doll. I was just wondering what the effects were on you, a hybrid. As a made-vampire-hybrid-Guardian-angel-Watcher, you’ve got a lot of bloodlines flowing inside you. In all honesty, that’s going to help you survive when you return home.”

  “And where is that?”

  “I’m sure you realize the only safe place for you is in the Underworld. Your powers will be enhanced. You can take tourist breaks, of course, but here, you’ll have many sides wanting to end you. The army you’ll need for defense can only be built down there.”

  So there it was. He was fucked, after all.

  “Please, Gideon,” Persephone said in her sweet, soothing voice, “Let’s sit down and listen to what the clockmaker has to say. There has to be a way. Remember what you told me?”

  Gideon cocked his head, at first not knowing what she was referring to.

  She angled herself on tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “Regrets?” The softness of her breath and the gentle way she accepted and acknowledged his anger without making him wrong was exactly what he needed.

  If Persephone believed in him, the least he could do was demonstrate his belief in that truth: Loving her could never be a mistake. They both sat and gave the clockmaker their attention. “Go on.”