Page 66 of Love At the Gates of Hell (The Seven Sinners Trilogy #1)

forty-five

Gideon

Something was wrong.

Gideon could feel it in his bones as his vision went white, his eyes stinging from the bright light that overtook the cathedral.

The brightness that was Benny. He squeezed his eyes shut for relief as a chilling cry rang through the cathedral, the sound lingering in the air as if it was burrowing its way into the walls.

Only a few of Frank’s men remained, and he could hear them scramble, cursing and looking for an exit.

But when the light dimmed and the haze cleared, there was nothing there.

The vampires that had remained had turned to ash, the men had scattered.

Frank was gone. In both forms.

But the only thing he really cared about at that moment was that he couldn’t see Benny.

From his vantage point near the back, the woman who was only just recently floating in mid- fucking-air was nowhere to be found.

Gideon scrambled to his feet as he tried to quell the rising panic he knew was working its way into his body.

He climbed over the rubble and the destruction to reach the center aisle, his eyes blinking as he tried to adjust to the natural light, bright sunspots still nagging at his pupils.

Like he had just tried to stare directly into the sun.

But wasn’t that exactly what he had done?

“Benny?” came Torretta’s voice, hoarse and weak. “Ben?”

“Hold on, Ang,” Jimmy muttered. “Let me help you up.”

Gideon saw her hand first, ash darkening her skin to her elbow.

The marks left behind from her magic, a reminder of the pain she inflicted, of the power she wielded.

He could feel his heart sink into his stomach when he found her lying there on the floor, her head tilted back, her body twisted just slightly.

Blood had trickled from her nostrils. And as he sank to the floor beside her, his knees crashing against the stone, he knew the prophecy had come true.

Benny was dead.

She wasn’t moving. She wasn’t breathing. When Gideon pressed his trembling hand against her wrist, he couldn’t find a fucking pulse.

“Benny,” he said urgently as he crouched over her, his hand gently tapping at her cheek. “Hey, come on, princess, you gotta wake up now.”

“What’s going on?”

Luke was racing down the stairs from the second floor, Cleo on his heels.

“No, please,” Angelo cried. “Not you too, Ben.”

Gideon pressed his ear to her chest, wondering if the thudding in his head was drowning out the potential sound of her beating heart. But it was quiet. Achingly so. He sat back on his heels, his brain not understanding, not accepting what he was seeing.

Even if he could still hear the cherubim’s voice.

The witch of the dawn must die.

Stone scraped against the ground and out of the corner of his eye he could see Harker and Tefi pulling themselves up from the wreckage where they had been working to close the gate.

He could feel everyone crowding around them, the whispers between Tefi and Luke, the quiet sobs from Angelo.

It all made him want to scream at the top of his lungs.

“Gideon.”

Luke hovered beside him, his hand gripping at Gideon’s shoulder.

“She’s not—”

“I know,” Gideon snapped, waving his hand away. His voice faltered. “I know—”

“She’s not what?” Cleo asked.

Gideon refused to say it out loud. He wouldn’t.

He didn’t give a fuck what any angel said.

Because he didn’t believe this was it. It couldn’t be.

Not when they had made it this far. Not when she told him she loved him and then gave everything she had to keep them all safe, leaving him staring after her like a fucking deer caught in headlights.

Not when he wanted to tell her how much he loved her too.

How he still couldn’t wrap his head around how easily it had happened.

“In one way or another, they always come true,” Tefi said.

“Tefi,” Luke warned. “Remember what I said—”

“No,” Gideon said, shrugging off his jacket. “We’re not doing this, Benny.”

He refused to let this be it.

He was careful as he moved her, laying her flat on her back, brushing her hair off of her face. He couldn’t perform a ritual. He couldn’t summon sunlight and send a demon back to hell. But he could try and save her. He had to try.

Prophecy be damned.

She deserved more time.

He had been a lifeguard when he was a kid, an easy way to get the hell out of the house in the summertime and make enough money to buy himself a new baseball mitt when he needed it.

They had CPR certifications at the start of every season, learning chest compressions on a foam dummy.

He’d never actually done this on a person before.

Well, this was a hell of a time to start.

He pressed his hands together over her chest and began compressions, counting one for every second, putting the full force of his weight behind them.

As he inched closer to the half-minute mark, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers, breathing in for two beats before resuming compressions.

She wasn’t breathing so he would do it for her.

He would give her every breath in his body if it meant bringing her back.

Each second ticked in his head, the silence falling around them deafening.

Her skin was a little clammy, but it was warm, and with each rescue breath he passed between her lips, he hoped it was working, that it was breathing life back into her.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “We didn’t get enough time—”

Another two breaths.

“This is not how this ends,” he told her, the heels of his palms pressing hard into her chest. “Not when I finally know what this can feel like—”

Another two breaths.

“Benny, please.” He closed his eyes as he counted his compressions again in his head. One, two — “Fuck, come on. Come on, baby—I love you. ”

Ten, eleven, twelve —

Benny let out a strangled gasp.

Gideon stopped the compressions, his fingers pressing against her throat, searching for her pulse.

It was faint, but it was there, and he could see her chest rising and falling with every new breath.

He rested back on his heels, his head tilting back as he tried to catch his breath.

He rubbed his hand across his face, his fingers brushing back the hot, wet tears that had been threatening to spill.

“Pat, get your son on the phone,” Jimmy barked. “Have him meet us in the lobby.”

Everyone was scrambling around him as sirens wailed in the distance. Considering the neighborhood they were in, Gideon was surprised anyone had bothered to call at all. But it only meant they had to move fast. How would any of them be able to explain what had happened here?

“Come on, Gid,” Luke said, voice soft. “Let’s get her home.”

The loft felt like it had become a triage tent, and Gideon watched as Olivia and Imani moved back and forth between the group of them, assessing damage, shoving bandages and painkillers in respective hands, all while trying to piece together the events of the night.

Frank was gone. The gate was closed. But what was it all for if Benny never woke up?

Gideon was sitting in the window, one knee drawn up to his chest, his suit jacket gone, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his sleeves rolled up.

Benny's necklace was dangling in his fingers, the chain wrapped up in his fist. His eyes were trained on his bedroom door.

It had been closed for over an hour, Wilder ushering everyone out so that he could work without interference.

But what good was the Healer’s magic if Benny’s body wouldn’t accept it?

The ride back to the loft had been quick, Luke speeding through the empty, early-morning streets downtown while Gideon cradled Benny in his arms in the backseat.

It wasn’t lost on him how familiar that scene was, but so much had changed since the night they found her.

He couldn’t stop himself from checking her pulse every few minutes, as if he would lose her again in the time it took them to return home.

“How long was she out?” Olivia asked.

“It couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes,” Cleo replied as she ran a cotton ball against a cut on Jimmy’s forehead.

She was using her left hand, her other arm in a makeshift sling that Luke fastened for her as soon as they all returned to the loft.

Although Cleo had protested, she eventually allowed him with a sort of funny smile on her face.

The remaining Caruso men had returned to their own homes or handled cleanup duty.

But Torretta, Jimmy, and Pasquale weren’t going anywhere until they knew Benny was okay.

Pasquale was cooking in the kitchen, the faint smell of garlic and onion filling the space.

He had told them they all looked like shit and needed a good meal.

Never mind his crooked, probably broken nose.

Imani was there to help, chopping and stirring.

The only one he noticed missing was Tefi.

“Which is… good, right?” Imani interjected. “I mean, they say the longer they’re out—”

But she cut herself off, as if she didn’t want to let that thought out into the universe.

“Do you think—” Olivia paused as she struggled with the plastic wrapping on a fresh bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and Gideon could see her hands were shaking. “Dammit.”

He watched as Luke crossed toward her and reached for the bottle. His brother offered her a small smile as he pulled the plastic off and handed the bottle back to her. She stared up at him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“She can heal,” she continued, turning back to look at the rest of the group. “I mean, do you think that’ll help?”