Page 53 of Eternal Light (Fated in the Stars #5)

A memory flashes behind his eyes of The Goddess’s lagoon, from all those years ago. It reminds him of what They had said: Gideon, the journey will be painful sometimes, and surprising. But if you are strong, you can protect them, and never ever be afraid to call upon us. We can hear you.

Maybe this is what They meant about the journey being painful? At the very least, he is sure that this is what They meant when They said he was to protect them. Because his family would never be safe until Carnell has breathed his last.

It helps when Gideon thinks They might be watching, approving of his choice to handle this as a challenge and not as a not-so-simple killing. He’d been prepared to do that, especially given the long list of things Gideon can lay at Carnell’s feet.

But a test like this? It’s been what his wolf has been craving since Hayes, and every day afterwards. It lights a fire inside him, one that he’d banked under his facade of urbanity; he’s eager to begin, and the need to finally draw blood is skittering along his nerve endings.

Beyond the patio and pool lay an immense expanse of well-manicured green lawn. Beyond it, he can see the heavy stone wall encompassing the castle grounds, and up on the rampart, he sees flames from what looks like torches.

Carnell has called in his guards to make a large circle about 40 feet in diameter, with tiki-style torches illuminating the space. Just behind, most of his Were guests are milling about, drinks in hand, the low hum of excited chatter creating a hum.

Someone had found Carnell a pair of white yoga pants, but he’s kept his silver disco shirt, which catches the light as he moves.

“There you are! I thought you’d changed your mind.” He chuckles, and some of the crowd do the same. Others, though, nod as Gideon makes eye contact.

Perhaps some are here against their will—victims like Nix, here to bear witness to the end of their torment. Each with their own story that Gideon knows nothing about.

“Not at all. I didn’t realize you were so eager to die,” Gideon remarks, his voice calm, almost taunting.

Leo steps in wordlessly, helping Gideon shrug off his jacket, his movements deliberate and unhurried. His hand lingers briefly, running down Gideon’s back—a gesture of silent reassurance.

With a sharp tug, Gideon pulls off his black dress shirt, revealing a loose-fitting T-shirt beneath—practical, chosen for ease of movement. The tailored pants would have to suffice, though he silently thanked the tailor for the reinforced stitching. They’d hold, for now.

“We will talk about how you’ve planned this from the beginning when this is all over,” Leo whispers in his ear, before kissing his cheek.

Carnell laughs again, accepting his own kiss from the young man. “We’ll see about that. Let’s set terms.”

“No terms. We fight, you die.” Gideon cracks his knuckles and shakes out his hands, long claws free in the blink of an eye, just as he’d taught his fierce Kitten.

“So stubborn. Just like your mother.”

“Don’t talk about her. She hated you, just as I do.”

That gets a reaction.

In seconds, Carnell is in his face, finger poking him in the chest. “We were fated mates, and you know nothing about it.”

Gideon laughs, loud and hollow. “Just because you were given a gift doesn’t mean you deserved her.” It’s the truth, and so are his next words.

“She often told me how cruel you were, and how she hated you.”

Sometimes, on dark nights after they’d been to the village to trade, Gideon would find her drunk in her bed, weeping that she must have done something horribly wrong in her past life to be fated to someone like Patrick Carnell—but that The Goddess must have taken pity on her, because They had given her Gideon.

The searing pain that accompanies the sharp slap across his face is a well-remembered pain.

“You prove my point, old man. Shall we do this? I am sorely done with your stink.” Gideon smiles. He wants to have a last look at his mates, but dare not take his eyes off his adversary.

Instead, he says loudly so they—and everyone else—can hear him, “I love you,” before pushing Carnell as hard as he can.

It’s not first blood, but it is something he has wanted to do since he was a child. Seeing Carnell land on his ass, even for a minute, makes him laugh.

Carnell isn’t down long and is on his feet, rushing Gideon, who dodges out of the way. Momentum keeps him going, and Gideon turns to see Leo and Luca sidestep so that he lands on his hands and knees.

With a roar, he’s back on his feet, face ruddy with humiliated rage.

“This doesn’t look like it will be much of a fight,” Leo taunts.

“No. I’m disappointed, really,” Gideon agrees, and the crowd titters.

Carnell charges him again; this time, Gideon lets the momentum spin him around, bringing his claws up and slashing Carnell across his bony chest, tearing that awful shirt and finally drawing first blood.

A crazed gleam ignites in Carnell’s eyes as he swipes his own claws out—one catching Gideon across the cheek—but he doesn’t stop when Gideon’s head snaps back.

While Gideon is off balance, he draws his leg out and kicks Gideon in the knee—luckily missing his mark, but tipping him farther off balance and onto his knees.

The pain in his thigh is nothing against the memory of his father doing the same thing when he’d been seven and hadn’t dropped to his knees fast enough to clean up his toys.

He’d known even then that he’d not wanted to kneel to the monster grinning over his gin and tonic.

“Kneeling already, boy?”

“I’ll never kneel to you,” Gideon says, climbing to his feet.

Every slash connects as he drives Carnell back—but not enough to finish him; just enough to appease his wolf with the steady flow of his sire’s blood dripping from a chest and abdomen full of cuts.

Carnell lands several hits of his own, but Gideon’s wolf is more interested in seeing his enemy bleed than protecting himself.

“You are worthy of leading, son. Let’s call a truce, and you can take your place beside me.”

“You never fucking listen. I don’t want to lead. I don’t want to hold a gun,” Gideon says, grasping Carnell’s arm and slashing the tendon between his upper and lower arm.

Carnell screams, but Gideon doesn’t stop.

“I don’t want to fuck the twelve-year-old daughter of the Nashville Mayor. But mostly, I don’t want to kill anyone but you.” He punctuates the last sentence with a slash to Carnell’s belly. It would have been enough to kill him if Carnell weren’t already stumbling back.

“Son, what about the prophecy?” he gasps, holding his arm close to his body while he swipes his claws out in an uncoordinated attempt to hold Gideon off. “You’re meant to lead.”

Gideon laughs, wipes his claws off on his pant legs.

“You and your stupid fucking prophecy. Do you think any one of those poor Oracles would tell you the truth? Or all of it? Knowing how batshit crazy you are? Who are you to think you deserve divine knowledge?”

As if he’d never once thought the prophecy could be anything but the truth, Carnell’s eyes narrow.

“They told me the truth, every time. You are born under the Hunter’s Moon. You are meant to be King. You. It has to be you. You are her son. It has to be you,” he says faintly.

Several bystanders walk away, but Gideon doesn’t pay them any further notice.

“So pathetic. You’ve hardly given me a fight at all. How can you possibly be the leader of anything?”

Carnell wipes at the blood seeping from a wound on his forehead as it drips into his eyes, before laughing.

“How dare you speak to me like that? I killed your beloved leader. Me. I hope he suffered, for all the trouble he’s caused me.”

“He’s not dead, you fool. Do you think I’d have waited for an embossed invitation to find you if he was? He is my alpha, and he is more of a man than you could ever hope to be.” Gideon laughs and pushes his father back with a hard hand to his solar plexus.

“He’s dead. The prophecy said he had to die… paradox in carmine. ” Carnell shakes his head. “He kept you from me. He’s dead.”

“He lives. It was you!” Gideon shouts. “ You kept me from you. You and your psychopathic, narcissistic cruelty and delusions. You. And now, I’m going to put you out of everyone’s misery. Look at them—look!”

Gideon spins, swinging his arm out in an arc to encompass what’s left of the crowd. Only those who are bloodthirsty, or perhaps need to see their tormentor dead for themselves, remain outside the circle of light. Even Carnell’s guards have left him to his fate.

“They’re only here to see you die, you old fool.”

Carnell looks beyond him, into the faces filled with pity or eagerness.

Gideon shouldn’t have been surprised when his father roars, sheer fury contorting his face. Surging forward into Gideon’s arms, he digs his claws into Gideon’s sides.

Instinctively, Gideon has no recourse but to do the same—only he aims straight into Carnell’s spine. It drives the older man to his knees and then onto his back.

“Fuck, Gideon!” Luca cries out, but Gideon can’t look. He needs to see this to the very end.

His father’s mouth is gaping like a fish, his legs splayed at an unnatural angle like he’s lost control of them—and Gideon supposes he has, as the smell of his father’s bladder and bowels letting go drives the remaining spectators into the shadows.

“Time to end this, Father,” Gideon says, calling him the name he’s not allowed himself since the day he left with his mother.

His words are met with a hysterical laugh.

“It was true,” Carnell coughs, spitting up blood.

“What was true?” Gideon sighs, leaning down so he can best see his father’s face when he dies.

“It said one must go and one must stay. One must die and…” He coughs again. “So must I. It was true.”

Finally meeting Gideon’s eyes, he gives him a bloody smile.

“I let you go, and Hayes stayed. And then he died. And now…”

“It doesn’t matter now, though. Once you’re dead, it’ll be over.”