Gideon

by Sharon Hamilton

  “I need proof.”

  “Shall I bring you a limb? A wing? A photograph of an orgy she’s involved in? Would that make you feel any better?”

  “Stop it with your lies. Your cunning doesn’t work on me any longer.”

  “Because you think you have experienced the power of true love. But what is that power if you will do nothing to defend it? Someone who truly loves would try, even if there were the slightest chance of saving her soul. She might not belong to you any longer, but she would be able to live in the light of Heaven again. She would be safe, Gideon.”

  He didn’t want to appear too eager. The Red Queen had given him hope, but he didn’t want to show this at all. He needed her to think he was in such despair he was incapable of planning another escape, or some kind of rogue adventure with Francis and the clockmaker.

  “Give me a day. I need to consult with Francis. If what you say is true, I want proof, and then perhaps we’ll discuss a deal. But only if I have proof.”

  “And if she is gone, and there is no way she can be rescued or restored?”

  “Then I will join her in oblivion. I have no desire to exist if she is truly gone.”

  “Very good. Then my task is clear. I give you twenty-four hours. Then we discuss our options, and I will give you the proof you seek, if it can be had. Agreed?”

  Her smile was alluring, and she was working hard to cover him with her glamour, but he took strength that he was able to resist it.

  He now knew the difference between devotion and obedience.

  Chapter 18

  Gideon traced to the clockmaker’s shop and found it closed. He cursed, which sent the bot cloud into hyper drive, several of the annoying little creatures dive-bombing him, reversing course before smashing themselves into his flesh. He growled and the cloud imitated his sound nearly perfectly. He swore and heard the words repeated back to him in flawless impersonation of his voice pattern.

  “Take me to Manfred, your maker. Tell him it’s urgent.”

  To Gideon’s surprise, the cloud dropped to the ground and poured themselves under the crack in the door threshold and then flew through the shop into the anteroom door, which was slightly ajar. Tabby jumped to a table in the shop window and sent a pile of books crashing to the floor. Her luminous eyes examined him while her tail wove back and forth like the mechanical second hand on an old clock, stopping several times a second. He made a face and lunged at the window, but the cat was unmoved, continuing her contented stare.

  The anteroom door opened. The gnats flew out first, followed by the clockmaker, dressed in a bloody apron. He angrily threw down latex surgical gloves as he barreled toward him, and then yanked the door open.

  His hair was disheveled and flecks of blood had lodged themselves in one long stripe from something that had gushed and showered him. His apron bore the same blood spatter patterns. He wore black knee-high boots that were also covered in blood. The tops of them were stuffed with the legs of his overalls.

  “Dammit, Gideon. This is most inconvenient.”

  “Sorry, I have no way of contacting you. My telepathic abilities are gone. I can’t raise Francis.”

  “Yes, well, he’s unconscious at the moment.”

  Gideon looked in horror at the clockmaker. “What have you done, you butcher?”

  “A special request. But I’m only half finished.”

  Gideon tried to grab Manfred by his apron straps but the man was too quick. The gnats were in Gideon’s face before he could return his hands to his side.

  “Fuck off and come back in an hour,” the clockmaker said.

  “No, damn you. I need to see Francis. I need to talk to both of you.”

  “You selfish prick. We’ve got lots of things to do to prepare. I squeezed in this little procedure, and now I’m regretting ever meeting either one of you. What a pair of self-absorbed and flawed fuckups of nature.”

  Gideon swiped at the gnats, who stayed away this time, as if commanded not to retaliate.

  The clockmaker was going to push Gideon back out the doorway when Gideon stopped him with his shout.

  “They’ve taken Persephone. I think she is either dead or in the Underworld!”

  Manfred’s expression changed to one of surprise. “How could this happen?” He closed the door behind Gideon to stop a cold blast of wind that had started, swirling dark storm clouds, blocking out much of the remaining late afternoon’s sunlight.

  “They intercepted us just before we got to the inn. They were perched in a large oak tree like dirty laundry. Six of them.”

  “Six? Good God, no one could have stopped them.”

  “Four of them carried her off. I had no chance. They were faster, and they left two behind. Those fuckers breathe and send fire like dragons.”

  “Yes, the Director’s pets. Dumb as rocks, but very deadly. Nearly defenseless on the ground as they can only fire breathe when they fly.”

  “Well thank you for all that information, but I wish I’d known this before. You might have told me they would be waiting for us.”

  “And I would know this how?”

  “Never mind.” Gideon was so frustrated he’d nearly forgotten the rest of the story. “It’s worse, Manfred.”

  The clockmaker stopped his progress toward the back room and turned. “How could it possibly be worse?”

  “I was visited by the Red Queen.”

  Manfred cocked his head and considered this. “She was smart to avoid entanglement with them.”

  “Meaning she was waiting for us as well.”

  “I’d say so, yes.”

  “Manfred, I am just one angel, of questionable pedigree, as you mentioned before. Just one of me. I am nearly defenseless, I can see that now. I need protection, and just where am I going to get it?”

  “You want to borrow some of my parakeets? The gnats? Tabby?”

  “Shut up and listen to me. We should have never parted. You should have told me what could happen. I would have never let her fly so freely on her own.”

  “There are some things so basic, I shouldn’t have to tell you, hybrid. You are thinking with your cock. That’s what happens.”

  “Goddammit! What do I do now? I need a helluva lot more than fuckin’ flying paper birds and a dumbass cat who might pounce on my shoulders at any second.”

  “Don’t dis Tabby. She’ll make you pay. She’s very smart. She watches, waits, and gets even.”

  “Fuck me. Clockmaker, be serious. I am at my wit’s end.”

  “Yes, I can see that.” Manfred was at the door to the surgery room and turned to face Gideon with the door in front of him still closed. “You’d best wait here. Have a seat. Let my birds and dolls entertain you.”

  “I can’t fuckin’ think with all this click click clicking, the chirping and things crashing down everywhere as Tabby explores your shelves of the macabre. So, if Francis is in there, I demand to see him.”

  “I’m warning you.”

  “Fuck that. I need to see him.”

  “Your funeral.” Manfred opened the door, entered the room, which was filled with the sounds of opera music but smelled of antiseptic and was as cold as a refrigerator.

  Lying on one of the surgical tables was Francis, on his stomach with his face turned toward them, covered in a plastic breathing mask. His skin looked clammy, and he was the palest shade of flesh Gideon had ever seen on a person who was alive.

  “You’ve killed him.”

  “No, not yet. But if I don’t get back to this, I will, or rather you’ll cause it to be done.”

  Manfred pulled back a bloody sheet, exposing Francis’s naked back. On the right, his dirty Guardian wing hung down over the table ending with several feet smashed on the ground where it was obvious someone had been walking across the stiff cartilage and veins of his plumage. But on the left, which was the side closest to Gideon, where once a wing existed, a bloody wound had been created, stitched with heavy black twine, puckering to close the wing sac. The wing that had
been surgically removed was lying on the ground in a darkened corner, its root covered in dark red blood.

  “Holy fuck!”

  “He wanted it done.”

  Francis started to stir, responding to Gideon’s outburst.

  “Now you’ve done it. He’s waking up. I haven’t finished the other side, just got it prepped. You’re going to have to hold him down while I get out the straps. He’s going to be in extreme pain.”

  “Give him another dose, man. Don’t let him suffer like this.”

  “I can’t. I already used all I can.” Manfred traced to within an inch of Gideon’s body. His face was erupting in small green warts, some of which formed right in front of Gideon’s eyes. “If you hadn’t insisted on coming here without warning I’d be done by now! If he dies, it will be on you!” Manfred held up a scalpel.

  Gideon grabbed his wrist and wrenched the scalpel from him, tossing it to somewhere as he heard the steel hit the concrete floor several paces away.

  “If he dies, I’ll cut you up myself and feed you to the Red Queen and her brothers! I’m not afraid of you, clockmaker. You fix this or your days are numbered.”

  Manfred traced away from Gideon, standing on the opposite side of the table, his boots crushing Francis’s still attached wing. “I’ll bind and bridle you if you don’t shut up and give me a chance to save him. Now help me.”

  Francis elicited a mournful moan, which quickly morphed into a blood-curdling scream.

  “Francis. I’m here,” whispered Gideon.

  “Secure his thigh with the strap!” shouted Manfred.

  Gideon found the leather belt and cinched it around Francis’s thigh while the clockmaker secured his other one.

  “Get the one around his neck!”

  Gideon looked up at the clockmaker. “He’ll choke.”

  “Or he’ll die if he gets undone. Secure him now. See if you can calm him.”

  Gideon hated himself for looping a large black strap across his best friend’s neck, adjusting a buckle down on the edge of the table. “He’s strong enough to fly and take this whole table with him,” he added.

  “Talk to him, Gideon. I’m going to repair the other one. No time for removal.” Manfred brought over the arm of some sort of machine that looked like a dentist’s drill and flipped a switch, which began with a whir and a beam of light.

  Gideon recognized it as some sort of laser.

  Francis was drooling bloody spittle, his eyes rolling back in his head. He’d bitten his own lip. His whole body began to shake.

  “Francis, I’m here. Hold on for just a bit longer. We’re all here, trying to fix this. You need to remain calm so Manfred can finish—”

  “Ah, God, Gideon. End me. End me now. What have I done?”

  “Well, you fuckin’ should have asked me first. I thought you were going home to San Francisco to roam the city and ride busses.”

  “Would you have stopped me?” Francis said between chattering.

  “Of course I would. And you wouldn’t be here on this table doing this.”

  “And Persephone would be safe now, wouldn’t she? Oh God, how I fucked up!”

  “Persephone? You know about her?”

  “I just got her message. They’ve taken her! I saw it, man. Just now.”

  “Happened while you were asleep, Francis,” whispered Gideon. “Don’t worry about that now. We need to get you right and out of pain. What’s done is done for now.” He gently laced his fingers through the Guardian’s scruffy hair, feeling the sweat and heat of his agony. It was like trying to talk to someone being tortured. His entire focus was on Francis.

  Manfred was cauterizing a cut he’d started on Francis’s right wing. The smell of burning feathers suddenly filled the room. A single finger of greyish black smoke traveled to the ceiling. Francis screamed, but by the end of the scream, the machine had been turned off.

  The clockmaker rinsed the red steaming scar with an orange liquid that further burned Francis’s flesh, causing him to scream again.

  “We’re almost done, Francis. Just another thirty seconds, and I can give you something for the pain. Hold on just a bit longer, my man. You’ve done good.” The clockmaker’s skilled hands tucked skin together, stretched the wing sac, wiping the whole area with the orange acid-dipped white cloth. He held Francis’s arm, lifting it off the table beneath the damaged wing, extending it outward and bending it slightly at the elbow.

  “I need you to try to encase your wing back, Francis. Can you do that?”

  Francis moaned, nearly unconscious.

  “Do it, Francis.”

  “I can’t feel fuckin’ anything on my left side,” he mumbled.

  Gideon held his hand. “Not this one, friend. Your other one. Try to encase it.”

  The muscles in Francis’s back began to bulge. A bluish buildup began on the left side, but the right muscles began to ripple, where a rosy pink color appeared underneath Francis’s pale skin. The wing began to shrink until it got hung up.

  “Fuck!” the clockmaker shouted as he jumped to the front of the table, thereby releasing Francis’s wing. A few tufts of feathers remained. Manfred pulled on the sac, trying to tuck them inside, but the scar he’d cauterized began to bleed again. He quickly held pressure down on it with the orange rag. Grabbing a pair of heavy shears, he snipped the eight inches or so of cartilage and feathers from Francis’s wing sac and closed the flap underneath. He sighed, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

  “That’s the best I can do for now.”

  Gideon was angry still, but in awe at the clockmaker’s skill. It was crude surgery, to be sure, but he could tell the man had managed to save his best friend’s life.

  He wondered how Francis was going to go with one wing.

  “Francis. There, it’s all over,” Gideon whispered. He continued squeezing his hand and rubbing the top of his head. “You did great, Francis.”

  “No, I didn’t. I failed you, Gideon. I failed Persephone. My fault entirely.”

  “Stop it. If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I was careless and foolish.” Gideon looked up at the clockmaker as he continued, “And thinking with my dick.”

  The clockmaker rolled his eyes and shrugged. He came over to Gideon’s side of the table so he could speak to Francis without shouting.

  “I’ve given you a local anesthetic that should help you feel loopy, but out of pain soon. Believe it or not, you will heal very quickly, in a day or two. But I have to bind your wound on the left, and keep changing the dressing. I also have to strap and bind your right wing, which is encased, until we can complete this procedure. I’m going to let you rest a bit, and then we’ll do the binding so you’ll be able to maneuver about before I leave.”

  “So I’m a really fucked-up angel, then,” Francis mumbled. He drooled over the table, and his eyelids fluttered.

  “Unique. I tell my bots they are unique,” corrected Manfred.

  “Like who the fuck cares about what a bot feels,” Francis scowled.

  Manfred chuckled. “You’d care if you had one of those pleasure bots sucking on your dick, Francis. Always helps if they think they’re having the sexual experience of their lifetime, know what I mean?”

  Gideon knew exactly what the clockmaker meant.

  “Argh!” Francis attempted to raise his hips, sending his butt a couple of inches into the air. “You fuckin’ psychopath. Now you’ve given me a stiffy.”

  Manfred nodded, chuckling again. “He’s going to be fine. Needs a little rest is all.” He grabbed Gideon’s arm. “We need to talk.”

  Gideon leaned over Francis one more time. “Now that I know your pecker’s working, I’m not going to worry about your plastic surgery. You rest for a few, and we’ll be right here when you wake up, okay?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck you yourself, you prick.” Gideon grinned at the clockmaker. “And if you don’t shut up about your stiffy, I’ll get Manfred here to put one of those dolls on you, or maybe get T
abby to scratch your back.”

  “Either one, you asshole. As long as you don’t jerk me off.”

  “Not a chance of that. Sweet dreams.”

  Francis said something again, which no one paid attention to. Manfred lowered the music slightly, as well as the bright lights and adjusted the heat up. Gideon followed him into the anteroom, and they closed the door behind them.

  Chapter 19

  The clockmaker poured some Red-X, but Gideon declined.

  “So I got one bot service doll here I recently repaired. I say we send her over to the inn to deliver a message for your Red Queen.”

  “And tell her what?”

  “Well, I have to get down there and get your production schedule on track. I’ve got my crew working on it already, but I have to be there to supervise, or we’ll have some kinky shit-like warriors looking more like farm animals and sex toys than soldiers.”

  Gideon must have sported a strange look.

  “I give them leeway, you know. It makes it fun. But I’ve got an idea that might work. I’d like to take the queen on a tour of the lab. Maybe pretend to be hatching a plan to catch you for her.”

  “That wouldn’t make sense. I’m here.”

  “Well, I could arrange a pickup. Not 100 percent safe, but I could get you abducted.”

  “You mean, like Persephone?”

  “Honestly, I think you’d be better off to stay here, but I know I can’t make you follow instructions.”

  “Any other way besides abduction or the transport?”

  “Yes, but I’m not telling you yet.” He took another sip. “If you go with me, then we’ll look like we’re on the same side. I think we need to pretend to be enemies, or she won’t trust me.”

  Gideon wasn’t sure this wasn’t half true.

  “Is Persephone alive?”

  “Most definitely. Quite a stir down there. Like I said, she’d be most prized, until she’s been paraded everywhere for the Dark One to earn his creds.”

  “What about Francis?”

  “He’s got to stay clear of the Underworld.”