Through A Glass, Darkly (The Assassins of Youth MC #1)(36)

“No, not at all,” Gideon said guilelessly. “He was my brother, for better or worse.”

Allred waxed thoughtful. “I know that feeling. Being forced to go against someone who was formerly your brother. Believe it or not, but in my position I struggle with many who would topple me. There are many who yearn for my position, my power. I have had to deal ruthlessly with them in order to maintain my throne. Many of them were not worthy of their own families. I absolve you of all wrongdoing, Gideon. You’ve been fasting to ask the Lord your path. His answer has been to give you title to half of the Altar of Sacrifice Mine.” Allred beamed with the charity he was doing. “Yes, my son, you are the worthy owner of half the mine. I, of course, retain title to the other half.”

“Why…” murmured Gideon. I looked over my shoulder and saw he was completely taken aback. “That’s more than generous of you. It was just an automatic reaction, really. I saw Breakiron about to shoot, and I leaped to one side.”

Yes. He didn’t say about to shoot you because Breakiron had been about to shoot me. But aside from that, Gideon spoke the truth.

“You didn’t need to do that, son,” said Allred. “You could have let me take the bullet from that crazed assassin. It was your fine and exalted mind that prevented that from happening. I’ve had a revelation that it was destiny.”

As I carried Gideon his coffee mug, I had an idea. “Prophet,” I said, smooth as silk, still standing because the superior men were confabbing. “My daughter Vonda is set to be sealed next month. I was wondering, with me nursing this servant of yours and all, if we could be given a time extension. I’m sure Orson Ream wouldn’t mind. He’ll want all our attention to be on him during his day of glory, and right now, we are very worried about this servant who was ready to give his life for yours.” How could Allred resist that? I looked at Gideon meaningfully. Why not strike while the iron was hot?

“Yes,” Gideon added. “I’d like to keep Mahalia as my nurse if you don’t mind.”

I said, “I still have time for my Relief Society work. And Drakelle can check in on him. Right?” I looked pointedly at my sister-wife, who hadn’t really had anything to do since checking on Gideon’s stitches and giving him more morphine.

“Oh, absolutely,” said Drakelle. “They get along well, and she sat here for days reading him poetry.”

“John Keats?” asked Allred.

“Among others,” I said serenely. “Dylan Thomas, Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson.”

Allred nodded, approving. “All shall be well,” he said, not really answering my question.

But I could tell from the look I shared with Gideon that all would be well, even if it was through no help from Allred. Freedom and free will were blueprints, basic future constructs that we could erase and change at our own free will. And we willed this escape with Vonda. Gideon had to get better first, and I had to postpone Vonda’s vile nuptials, but escape we would.





CHAPTER ELEVEN




MAHALIA


We became closer and closer as those days went by.

And what days they were! They were the glory days before the storm—happy, serene, filled with my little visits to Gideon’s cottage. I barely noticed what I did outside that cottage because it wasn’t important. I passed my time doing daily chores while thinking of Gideon.

I’d been right about my first impression of him. He was intelligent, multilayered, sensitive—an old soul who was both my teacher and my savior at the same time.

Drakelle lived for her visits with him too, but more and more we only needed her for the morphine, which she was weaning him off of. One day she declared he could go without the bandage. I’d been waiting for that day, because Gideon had been complaining about wanting a bath.

There was only a shower in the cottage, and he wanted to soak, so I found an old-timey tin tub that would probably cover him in water up to his waist. I managed to get rid of Drakelle by telling her I could take it from here—I was his nurse, after all! Vonda had said it was funny how women fought over him, and I was glad Allred wasn’t there to see it.

I helped him out of the bed, and he stood gingerly. True, he’d wasted away a bit. We hadn’t wanted him to lift weights in bed like he wanted to due to the strain it’d put on the stitches.

His bony ribs prodded against mine as I walked him to the tub. I’d been boiling pot after pot of hot water on the kitchenette’s stove. His soft skin was hot, burning even, though he didn’t have a fever. As he eased himself down into the lovely water, I thought now I can finally see his ink. He’d been lying on his ink, and finally the swirling waves and jumping Japanese fish were revealed to me as he ran his arms down the edge of the tub. The Asian picture only went to his scapula in back and maybe halfway down one bicep, and I sat on a stool to admire it. I’d withheld the soap on purpose. I wanted to be the one to bathe him.

“You’re a very beautiful man.” It just slipped out of me. I was seeing his pious, sacrosanct self. The biker who shot people and dealt in guns was gone inside these walls. I loved all sides of Gideon, but in here, he’d reverted to being a child. In here, he was allowed to be uncorrupted, undefiled.

Out of nerves from what I’d just blurted, I picked up the bath pouf that I’d sponge him with. But he quickly said, “You’re a very beautiful woman, Mahalia. I’m not just saying this because my life lies in your hands. I’ve thought that since the first minute I was you in Chiles’ office.”