Chapter 50
He didn’t. He reached the cross to meet brilliant blue eyes fixed on him in hopeful anguish.
“Gideon…”
A breeze tickled across his nape, solidifying into an almost tangible force. Covering the boy’s body with his own was pure instinct, and he grunted both against the pain of the cross burning into his hands where he grasped the crucifix and the raw sting of claws raking over his back.
Gideon braced himself for another attack, but he felt nothing. He thought he heard a hiss of frustration, but it was difficult to pick out anything over the boy’s pounding heart and his frightened gasps. His nostrils flared, and he strained for any clue of what could be in the church with them. But whatever it was didn’t have a scent. That unsettled Gideon most of all. How could something exist and not have some sort of scent?
“Gideon?”