Rage and Redemption (Rebel Angels) by Friberg Cyndi

Author:Friberg, Cyndi [Friberg, Cyndi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Anything-but-Ordinary
Published: 2012-10-21T05:00:00+00:00

Gideon sat alone in the underground chamber, restless and confused. Naomi’s scent permeated his tunic, sinking into his very pores. Yanking the garment off, he tossed it across the room and pressed his naked back against the cold stone wall.

She’d sat with him through the entire crisis, soothing him with her embrace and the soft cadence of her voice. Why had she done it? How could she feel anything for him after…she didn’t remember what he’d done. That was the only possible explanation. He’d successfully purged her mind. She still believed in the illusion that he was not a monster.

He remembered Michael’s voice, the intensity of his presence, but that made no sense either. Why would Michael bother?

The musical chinking of metal distracted Gideon from his contemplations. With a flick of his wrist, he ignited the torch secured to the wall in an iron sconce. He’d extinguished it a short time before when he sent Crispin off on his errand. The darkness better suited his mood.

Crispin approached, heavily laden with the remainder of Gideon’s belongings.

Gideon felt an unexpected pang in his chest. Naomi wouldn’t be the only one turning a corner and carrying on.

“Why do you want all of this down here?” Crispin asked. He draped Gideon’s chain mail hauberk over the chest containing the rest of his armor.

“It’s time I reacquaint myself with a little band of rebels.” He couldn’t contain his sardonic smile as he remembered the exasperated edge to Michael words. “You’ve served me faithfully, Crispin. But where I go, you cannot follow. I spoke with Algernon, captain of the French mercenaries. You will be accompanying them to Antioch to join King Louis’ troops.”

“As you wish,” Crispin said stiffly. He clasped his arms behind his back and averted his gaze. He looked almost wounded. He was a soldier. What difference did it make who he served?

These humans could be so irrational.

Gideon rose and commanded, “Look at me.”

Their gazes locked and Gideon cast his thrall. “When you awaken on the morrow you will have no remembrance of my true nature. You will remember only a fellow soldier with whom you fought.” He framed the younger man’s face with his hands and delved deeper into his mind, meticulously purging every image, every memory that might incriminate him.

The longer he worked the more saddened he became. The human penchant for irrationality must be contagious. Crispin was his servant, nothing more. But so many of the images contained Crispin’s easy laughter and his calm resolve, his bravery and loyalty.

Gideon would miss him.

Breaking away with a soft hiss, he released Crispin and reached into the trunk for a clean tunic. When he straightened again, Crispin was gone.

* * * * *

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