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7
Walkingthrough the London streets with Gideon at her side felt oddly normal. It should have felt like a sin—like she was doing something wrong. He was the enemy, after all.
Wasn’t he?
It was such a blurry line. The Vatican’s secret order was after her and probably wanted to lock her up in a cage. Even if Rinaldo and Ally meant well, they were subject to the commands of their superiors.
Gideon, for all his mystery and foreboding statements of doom and gloom, was rather nice to her. He was walking beside her, his cane tapping lightly on the stones of the pavement. She had given up walking with her hand in the crook of his elbow as the onslaught of tourists became too hard to traverse.
But every time she glanced at him, she caught him watching her with that damn smile on his face. It wasn’t cunning, it wasn’t cruel, it wasn’t devious. It was just a small, barely perceptible expression that told her that he was…happy.
He was happy because he was with her.
Damn it.
She hated how it made her feel. She was supposed to be on a crusade against him. Not feeling all fluffy and warm every time she caught him watching her. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid—
“I mean what I said. Your father didn’t deserve it.”
Her steps hitched. She paused and turned to look up at the necromancer. He wasn’t looking at her for a change, but instead was staring at an ad in the window. It was some saccharine advertisement for Father’s Day. An older man being embraced by a young woman who was presenting him with a very expensive watch. It was obvious in its capitalist ploy, but equally effective in its execution.
Marketing. The world’s greatest evil.
“What did he do?” She leaned against the streetlamp next to her. It was cast iron and had clearly been painted a thousand times over the years of its service. She could see bits of the outer green covering flaking away to reveal that it had been white, and red, and black, and probably fifty other colors beneath it all. “Why did you do that to him?”
“He loved you. And in doing so, he got in my way. I was young—comparatively—and when I was denied, he met my childish wrath.” Gideon sighed and shook his head. “Come. I’m not drunk, and neither are you. We should fix this.” Stepping toward the curb, he stuck his fingers into his mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle. A black cab pulled over to him a moment later. Opening the door for her, he folded at the waist in a gentlemanly bow and gestured for her to climb inside. “Princess.”
“I don’t know how you manage to both be flattering and insulting at the same time, and yet, here we are.”
She didn’t miss his smirk, even as he was doubled over at the waist. “It’s a gift.”
With a shake of her head, she climbed into the cab. Gideon followed a moment later and smiled through the window at the driver. “The Flask, Highgate, if you please.”
The older man behind the wheel nodded, and off they went.
They sat in silence for a moment before she turned to look at him. “How did you know I was thinking about my father? You can’t read my mind, can you?” She wrinkled her nose. Oh, man. She was in a lot of trouble if that were the case.
He laughed. “No, no. Hardly. But you do wear your emotions on your sleeve, as it were. I saw the look on your face, and, well, it was easy to guess what was the problem.” He spun his cane idly in his hand, rotating the silver vulture slowly. The light from outside glinted off the cloudy black gem in the center. He lowered his voice as to not be heard by the cabby over the rush of traffic and the music the man was playing. “You had the same look on your face when I pulled you out of the Vatican.”
Nodding, she turned her attention back out the window to watch the city as it went by. She kept her voice down as well. No need to concern the cab driver, although she was certain he had heard far weirder things in his career. “I couldn’t leave him like that. I couldn’t leave any of them like that.”
“To kill your enemies is one thing. To imprison them in the dark like trinkets in a library is…something else entirely.” Gideon frowned. “I would have done far worse.”
“I don’t know, I set free some ancient and probably tyrannical vampire and ordered him to burn the place down. That’s pretty bad.”
“You…ordered Radu of Wallachia to burn the vaults?”
His shock made her wonder why that was a big deal. She blinked at him. “I mean. I. Well, he was going to do something terrible anyway. I told him to only kill as many people as he needed, I’m sure he didn’t listen to me on that bit.”
His look of shock devolved into amusement as he broke out into laughter. “You have no idea with whom you were dealing, did you?”
“I asked him if he was Dracula, and he said no.” She shrugged. “After that, I figured, cool. I’m an undead what-the-fuck and he’s a vampire. This is my life now.”
“Apparently.” His eyes still glinted with humor as he watched her with an expression that said how much he clearly adored her. It made her cheeks grow warm, and she looked away before she found herself blushing like an idiot again. After a beat, he chuckled again. “He isn’t Dracula, but he is Dracula’s brother. Well. Pseudo-brother.”
That got her attention again. “No shit—Dracula’s real?” She snickered. “I was just joking with him.”
“Oh, he’s very real. And a… friend. If you haven’t entirely ruined his life, perhaps I’ll introduce you two someday.” Gideon was smirking at her. He folded his hands atop his cane. “I expect he’ll be a bit cross with me for some time, however.”
