“Mags! No, you won’t be safe.” Harry stood up from the table. “They’ll imprison you. Gideon, we—”
The necromancer raised his hand and silenced the bigger man. “Shush.” He turned his attention to the shocked priest. “If you or yours harm her in any way…I will know. If she wishes to leave your side, you will allow it.”
“You’re not in the position to make demands.” Rinaldo’s hand on the table twitched, like it was eager to go for his gun.
“Am I not? We shall see.” Gideon stood from the table, far more gracefully than Harry had done. With a hum, he reached into his coat pocket. “Ah. Nearly forgot.” He fished out a phone—hers—and put it down on the table. “As I have clearly demonstrated, I can already follow you without effort. Keep it. You may need it. Call me if you need my help. Or a rescue. I’ll be nearby.”
“You’re the enemy here. Not me.” Rinaldo reached for his gun but kept his hand on the handle.
Gideon eyed Rinaldo with a cold, exacting stare. “We shall see.” He turned his attention back to her, his gaze instantly softening along with his voice. “Princess…” The gentleness in him arrested her once more. “Please. Take it.”
Hesitantly, she picked it off the surface and slipped it into her pocket. She felt lost in traffic again—like everything was going too fast for her.
“If you change your mind, do call me.” He smiled sadly and bowed his head. “Safe travels and welcome harbors to you both.”
Turning on his heel, Gideon walked out of the restaurant, snapping his fingers at Harry. And with the ring of the tiny bell over the door, the two were gone.
She was left staring at the door after them.
Silence.
After a long pause, she spoke. “What just happened?”
Rinaldo sounded just as dumbfounded. “Fuck if I know.”