Quinn cast a wary glance at our surroundings and pulled me closer to him as if we actually were going out and he couldn’t keep his hands off me. His voice dropped even lower in volume so I had to strain to hear him. “What is this, Sarah?”
“What do you mean?”
“The man is a murderer. You’re not going soft on him, are you? Because that would be a huge mistake.”
“Of course I’m not.”
“Thierry says you’ve seen him a few times at his hotel.”
“Thierry seems a lot chattier with you than he has been with me lately.” I crossed my arms. “But it’s true. What am I supposed to do? Say no? In fact, I’m seeing him again tonight.”
“Why?”
“Maybe he can’t get pizza delivery where he is. I don’t know. Are you going to stop me from going?”
“No.” Any humor left his expression. “But I know it’s in your nature to see the good in people. It’s an asset, but it can also get you in serious trouble. Like now.”
“I saw the good in you, didn’t I?”
“That was different.” His expression was tense. “I don’t know what he’s said to you or how he might act, but he is a vicious killer. Remember that.”
“I can handle Gideon.”
“Gideon thinks vampires are a lesser form of life that needs killing. I don’t give a shit if he’s proclaimed his desire to become one to everyone he knows or if he likes to flash that billion-dollar smile at you. He’s dangerous. And because you’re a vampire he thinks you’re disposable. Don’t ever forget that.”
I flashed back to a cold, dark warehouse. Pictures of my friends and family laid out on a table to show me he knew where everyone lived. His cold, desperate warning in my ear.
“I will kill them all.”
Since that night, I hadn’t seen that particular side of Gideon again. He’d either been amiable and happy to see me when I came to his hotel room or he’d been wracked with pain and suffering.
But I couldn’t forget what he really was. What he could do.
I swallowed. “I won’t forget.”
He leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. “Just be careful. And also be careful if you see the Red Devil again. Not sure I trust him as far as I can throw him, either.”
“Me neither. You don’t have any idea who he really is, do you?”
He shook his head. “All I know is I wouldn’t want to be Gideon right now.”
I chewed my bottom lip. “If Gideon dies, he’ll go to hell. The hellfire will drag him there.”
“Gideon was bound for hell anyhow after everything he’s done in life. Don’t lose any sleep over him, Sarah.”
“I won’t.”
And I wouldn’t. I hated Gideon. He deserved to die.
If that was the case, then why did the idea of leading him to that fate make me feel a bit sick inside?
Quinn was right. I was a softy. Like a wimpy marshmallow.
I wouldn’t think of Gideon as anything more than an unrepentant serial killer. He wasn’t
Quinn, who’d changed his ways, and he wasn’t Thierry, who’d had his own share of darkness to deal with in his long, immortal life.
I had to remember that. There was way too much at risk if I forgot.
I was as tense and jittery by the time I arrived at Gideon’s hotel room as if I’d been mainlining double espressos all day. Thierry would be upset if he knew I was there again. I also knew he would likely find out due to my potential tattletale tag team of Quinn and the
Red Devil.
But there I was.
I’d deal with the aftermath in due course.
Gideon sat, waiting for me, in the same chair he’d been in last night. His glamour held up well—I still couldn’t see any scars marring that undeniably handsome face of his. The scars were still there, of course, but now they were hidden by magic. He wasn’t dressed for company, however. He wore only the bottoms of loose pajamas, and his toned chest was bare.
On the table next to him I couldn’t help noticing a dagger with a curved blade.
He hadn’t said anything since I’d entered his room. He simply stared at me from where he was seated.
It made me more uncomfortable than I was to start with. Which was saying something.
“Is it nice out?” he asked after a long moment went by.
“Nice?” I repeated. “What do you mean?”
“I noticed it was sunny earlier. I didn’t go outside today.”
Small talk about weather with the deadliest man I’d ever known. Sure. Why not? “It was fine. Not too cold.”
“The sun doesn’t bother you at all as a vampire?”
I shook my head. “Not really. It’s a bit glary, like if you forget your sunglasses and you’re driving into the sun, and prolonged exposure makes me feel like taking a long nap, but it’s not too bad.”
“And when you’re a nightwalker?”
I swallowed. “Then I do my impression of the Wicked Witch of the West and melt into a puddle of death.”
“That doesn’t sound pleasant.”
No, it didn’t. And that’s why I needed the witch’s grimoire he mentioned. Badly. The teenaged wizard didn’t give me the impression he was likely to attempt the eradication again, even if I agreed to give up a half year’s worth of memories. I think he mentioned something about needing a lobotomy if he tried. But how was I supposed to get the grimoire without selling out my current enigmatic bodyguard? Whether he deserved my loyalty was up for debate, but there had to be a way for me to get the grimoire and yet also avoid being an accessory to murder.
Although that particular decision was subject to change without notice. The threat of turning into a death puddle was a strong motivating force.