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“Good that you’re honest about it.” A plate was put down in front of her. She jerked in surprise. She hadn’t heard Gideon come into the room, but there he was standing next to her, holding his own plate of spaghetti and meatballs in his other hand. He smiled at her faintly.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Of course not.” The necromancer walked to the other side of the table and placed his own plate down. Picking up the bottle of red wine, he poured her a glass first, then himself. Harry grunted in annoyance and grabbed the bottle from the table and poured himself a glass. Gideon rolled his eyes. “You can’t even taste it, Harry.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to be left out. You didn’t make me dinner. That’s bad enough.” He lifted the bowl of popcorn. “Asshole.”

“A waste of good food, and—” He shook his head. “Never mind. I’m in a good mood, and I don’t want to ruin it by arguing with you. Enjoy the wine, Hero.”

Her phone buzzed. She looked down.

Rinne: Hey, I told you to duck. Not trying to kill you. Trying to follow orders, be nice to you, and save the world all at the same time is hard. Cut me some slack.

There was no point in hiding it from Gideon. First, she didn’t want to bother trying to keep secrets from him. She was probably terrible at it. Second, he deserved the honesty. If she wanted to know everything he knew, then it was hypocritical to do otherwise. And third? He likely had access to her phone and could read all the texts anyway. “The Order wants your phylactery. They want it because then they know they can control you.”

“I see. And you’re helping them find it?” Gideon was watching her intently. Not angrily, but rapt.

“I said I’d help them after I found what you did to my father. I was mad. I set Radu free because I wanted to do this my way. And honestly, that’s still true.” Reaching for her wine glass, she took a sip. It was a rich, sharp red, and she found she liked it. It was probably a hundred dollars a bottle, knowing him.

“You don’t know whose side you’re on.” It was a statement from Gideon, not a question.

Meanwhile, Harry just sat there silently, chewing on popcorn and drinking hundred-dollar wine that he couldn’t taste like it was the world’s most interesting tennis match. When Algernon scurried over to him, he put the bowl of popcorn down on the table and let the rat help himself.

“That’s just it. I don’t want to pick a side. I want to be my own damn side.” She set her phone down on the table and turned her full attention to Gideon. “If you turn out to be dangerous—if I decide they’re right and you’re not—I want a cord I can pull in case of emergencies. They’re that cord. I know what’ll happen if I give them your phylactery. I do. Trust me, I do. And I know I’ll either die or spend eternity in some sort of holy prison because of it.”

“But if you deem me too much of a threat to persist, you’re willing to make that sacrifice.” He let out a small hum. “Noble.”

“Nothing noble about it. More like guilt. I don’t want to be responsible for you being loose in the world like a maniac if that turns out to be what you are.” She smirked. “Although, honestly, you just seem to be content wandering around raising pets, playing in a garden, and drinking expensive alcohol.”

“As time goes on, you’ll see more of what they are concerned about. I have my fingers in the pots of many corporations and global initiatives.”

“And how does that make you more threatening than any other rich yahoo with a power complex?” A lightbulb went off in her head. I wonder if the Vatican just wants him under their thumb so they can use his influence for their own ends. It would make sense. And while it might not be their only motivation, she was certain it wasn’t a small portion of what was inspiring them to steal Gideon’s phylactery.

“I honestly don’t know.” He chuckled. “I suppose the difference is that I generally don’t pay off my loyal agents. I kill them and raise them as my servants.”

“That might do it.” She paused for a moment, studying him. “You’re not mad at me? They are trying to enslave you.”

“Not in the slightest. I’m impressed.” He sat back in his chair. “I’m glad you’re playing both sides, Marguerite. It shows a level of shrewd awareness of the situation that I would like to encourage. You aren’t my property. If you wish to deal with the Order for your own ends, I only hope you do so intelligently. But I have no reason to doubt that’s the case.”

Smiling, she scooped up her phone again. “Great. Well, I’ll keep you updated as to how it’s going with them, and I’ll do my best to not get shot.”

“I appreciate that. Now, dinner, before it gets cold.” Gideon took a piece of the garlic bread from the center of the table and began eating. “Rinaldo can wait until we’re done. Phones at the table are bad manners unless it’s an emergency.”

“Fine, fine.” She tucked her phone against her leg on the seat next to her. The priest would have to wait.

“You two are fucking weird,” Harry muttered into his wine.

Truer words, Harry. Truer words.


Tags: Kathryn Ann Kingsley Memento Mori Fantasy