Page 10

Nix and I are going to the cafe

Come with

1:32 PM — from Luca

Where are you

Not at Quest

Are you mad at me

1:33 PM — from Luca

Did I do something really bad

It’s the last one that turns the tingle into a lurch in his gut.

It triggers Gideon’s rage at the situation, at himself for setting down this impossible path, and, as always, at the absent source of dissension: his father.

Fucking fuck.

Gideon wants to be at home with his kittens, and his cats, and his damn mammoth of a dog. He wants Jay to hold him down and make him remember who he really is, and he wants Grayson to call him pretty when he comes. He wants his mates warm and rolled in blankets in front of the television while he makes French toast and omelets for lunch.

He wants this over with.

But more than anything, he needs them to be free—and for better or for worse, that’s Gideon’s job to accomplish.

He gives himself a shake, like a dog shaking off the rain, and wonders if he’s picked up some weird habit from Tsuki—or worse, Rowan.

But he can’t be thinking about them when he’s rolling around in the filth that is Patrick Carnell’s life.

He’s already been reminded that he’s been a bad mate lately. Gideon hates most of all that Luca feels like he’s done something wrong—hates that he’s the person who’s supposed to be Luca’s shield against the world but has only brought him pain instead.

Gideon misses him too, like a lost limb.

But this is the contact with the information that Gideon has been waiting on since he had dropped that soul-magic pendant down Hayes’s throat. This guy was once inside Carnell’s inner circle and has contacts close to the bastard, but is still walking around alive and free, for whatever reason. He’s the key to Carnell’s hiding place and where, if Gideon has anything to say about it, the slimy bastard will take his last breath.

Then his family will be safe, and maybe Gideon can be free of the constant, agonizing fear that something bad is coming for them at breakneck speed.

An elderly man in a brown tweed coat and suit sits next to him on the bench and opens a paper bag. His gnarled fingers toss small clumps of birdseed onto the sidewalk in front of them. As if they’d only been waiting for their cue, the birds flutter to the walk, cooing and chirpingso loudly that Gideon almost doesn’t hear the man speak.

“You look just like her,” he says, throwing another handful before offering the bag to Gideon—less out of courtesy to the birds, probably, and more to make it look like two strangers had a reason to be talking in an almost-abandoned park, should anyone be watching.

The man’s words finally sink in, and Gideon freezes, hand mid-toss.

The nearest bird, a fluffy-feathered sparrow, lands gently on his outstretched hand so she can take the seed directly from his palm. Her tiny black eyes are watchful, and Gideon can see her tawny feathers shiver in the breeze.

He’s surprised, but remains perfectly still until she flies away.

It might be a sign of some sort, so Gideon says nothing.

“You look nothing like him, thank the Goddess.” The man chuckles at some memory and throws another handful of seeds.

“Made him so angry at first, but…” He looks at Gideon then, and frowns. “But you took to his ways well enough, anyway. That’s why I didn’t want to meet you at first.”

Gideon takes another handful of seed from the offered bag and throws it to an elderly bird who hasn’t been quick enough to fight for his fair share. He takes a moment to wonder if he is helping or hindering the natural cycle of life, but the man interrupts his train of thought by shaking the bag in his direction again.

“Then why did you?”