“I know your origin story, but that’s about the extent of it.” She’d rather have them share what they knew and glean what they weren’t saying to fill in the blanks in her education. Eldon had been cagey when she asked him questions. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to protect her or his own people.
Keegan rose to his feet, snatching up a banana as he headed toward her. “Then we’ll start your training with a short lesson. If you’ll follow me.”
He slid past her, and the smell of baked bread coming from him made her mouth water. Following his lead, she shot back to the table, grabbed one of the last rolls, then scurried after him.
She half expected Warrick to yell after them and refuse to allow Keegan to share their secrets, but he remained blessedly—and suspiciously—silent. She wasn’t sure she trusted the change in his attitude, but she was too desperate for information to turn down the opportunity to learn more.
They walked toward the front of the house. This time, she refused to look at the stain on the floor as Keegan strode into a room on the right.
The office was more of a library. The room was floor to ceiling bookshelves and glass trophy cases. Weapons, ancient books, and antiques were scattered throughout. An oriental rug took up a large portion of the room, the dark hardwood floor covering the rest. There were a couple of tables and chairs clustered about the place. Unsurprisingly, Keegan headed for the main desk that dominated the far edge of the office.
She couldn’t help the way her stare dropped to watch the smooth, athletic way he moved, her eyes automatically pausing on his ass, and she gave an appreciative sigh, then wanted to kick herself.
She hadn’t gotten laid in so long, she actually entertained the idea of finding out how he tasted. She quickly shoved half the roll into her mouth to keep it occupied so she wouldn’t drool.
Thankfully, he walked behind the desk, blocking her view and began picking through a few books scattered across the surface, the bay windows at his back leaving him in shadows and allowing her to get her haywire emotions back under control.
“Take a seat.” He didn’t bother to glance up while he selected a handful of books.
She grimaced at the uncomfortable-looking antique chairs in front of the desk. Unwilling to spend the next however-long twisted up in one, she turned and plopped her ass down on a couch tucked away to the right of the desk. Sunshine warmed her face, and she realized she couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken even a moment to just sit without having to worry about anything else.
Leading a life on the run didn’t give her many opportunities to just relax and soak up the sunshine, not if she wanted to stay alive.
Keegan picked up one more book, then turned toward the front of the desk, seeming startled not to find her waiting. He quickly scanned the room, his shoulders relaxing slightly when he spotted her. She braced herself for a reprimand but was distracted as he walked toward her in a way that made her mouth go dry.
Prowled would be more accurate.
The image of him doing the same, completely naked, flashed in her head, and she had to blink and look away to dispel the image. When he sat next to her, he kept a distance between them as if afraid to get to close. The sun haloed him like he was a god. His blond hair turned golden, the green in his amber eyes nearly vanished until he resembled a tiger on a hunt.
The glasses should’ve made him look dorky, but damned if she didn’t find them sexy as hell.
Only when he held out a set of books to her did she realize that he’d been talking.
Shit.
She grabbed the books automatically, noting the way he carefully kept their fingers from touching. Glad to have a reason to look away from him, she banished the wicked fantasies doing a number on her concentration.
“All daemons gain their powers at maturity, though the ages vary from mid-teens to early twenties. Most have a range of two or three different abilities, each of varying strengths.
“As soon as they receive their powers, they’re sent to train, where they’ll have anywhere from six months to a year to gain a semblance of control before entering the trials for a chance to become an elite warrior.” Though his voice didn’t change inflection, the tone turned ominous.
“And if they don’t have control?”
He blinked at her, seeming surprised that she would ask questions. He touched his glasses, a nervous gesture as he scanned her face. “Then they die.”
She blinked at the stark response.
She hadn’t been expecting something so drastic.
But it made a sick kind of sense. If daemons had trouble with their abilities and they were built for it, no wonder so many of Kronos’s soldiers went insane.
As if her questions had given him permission, Keegan continued, completely unaware of her troubling thoughts. “Daemons go to the trials for more than just learning how to use their abilities. It’s where they go to find a benefactor. The stronger the daemon, the better chance that they’ll be chosen.”
“Benefactor?” She scowled and crossed her arms. Eldon had conveniently failed to mention anything about benefactors, the little sneak.
Keegan’s face went carefully blank. “Demigods.”
Fuck.
She’d purposely kept her distance from anything to do with demigods. If they even knew she existed, she’d be a dead woman walking.
“What’s so important about having a benefactor?” She felt like she was missing something vital.
Keegan gave her a funny look, maybe just realizing the true extent of her ignorance. “A benefactor binds a daemon to them. It’s a symbiotic relationship. Over time, daemons gain more and more power. A benefactor can bleed off that power, giving us a chance to adjust to the influx. It keeps the daemons from imploding. For their trouble, the demigods gain a soldier to patrol their region.”
She crinkled her nose at him, a little disgusted. “Demigods feed off of daemons?”
“In a way.” He gave a shrug, his brows furrowed as he searched for a way to explain it to her, like she was a fucking simpleton. “The stronger the daemon, the stronger the benefactor. The stronger the benefactor, the more territory they own, and the more power the demigods wield. The larger the territory, the more daemons they need to patrol it and keep the peace.”
Octavia snorted in disgust. “So for the privilege of not dying, they tie themselves to someone who feeds off them, and then they’re expected to serve them, too.”
“Exactly.” He said it as if it was perfectly logical, absently flipping through a book on the table. “After a time, daemons will develop more control, and their bodies will eventually adjust to their new abilities. Low-level daemons, usually called lesser daemons, can survive without a benefactor, but they usually pledge themselves into service, wanting to do their part or needing the protection the demigods offer. Others request to join in order to gain power and move up in the ranks in a way they can’t do on their own.”
Her skin crawled, and she broke out in a sweat at the idea of being at the mercy of anyone else ever again. It was all she could do not charge out the door and away from their fucking nonsense, her muscles trembling as she struggled against the impulse.
“So your team has a benefactor?” She refused to think of them as victims. They knew exactly what they were getting when they made their choices.
Though choosing life over death wasn’t much of an option.
The cocky smile he flashed her was so sexy, heat licked under her skin. It was so unexpected, every thought inside her head vanished but how she could get him to do it again.
“You might say we’re freelance.” When his smile faded, it was like the light in the room dimmed with it.
What the fuck was wrong with her? She shook off her foolish thoughts, secretly wondering if they’d drugged the water this morning or something to make her act so out of character. She shoved the rest of the now-cold, forgotten roll into her mouth to keep from saying something totally inappropriate—like let’s get naked.
What he said made sense…up to a point. “Was Eldon—”
“Not exactly.” Keegan shook his head, shadows darkening his eyes. “His benefactor gave him the leeway to do what he wished most of the time, probably because he’d been with her for close to three hundred years. He was mostly in charge of the trials and training new daemons. He had a knack of finding and training the best.”
Sympathy for Keegan’s loss pierced her own grief. “He trained you.”
His shoulders flexed, and he looked over the library, the action seeming to soothe him. “He trained all of us. We’re a unit because of him.”
“What happened last night?” Octavia rubbed her temple, trying to sort through the flashing images of blood, death, and fire that bombarded her, but she couldn’t seem to put them in an order that made any sort of sense.
Keegan rose smoothly to his feet, closing the book on the table with a snap, and pushed even more books toward her. “We should meet with the rest. These books should give you whatever answers you need.”
With that, the conversation was over.
Octavia very much doubted the answers she wanted were anywhere in the books he handed her but knew better than to try and wiggle more information out of him.
It would be futile.
Not only would he not budge, he now looked at her with more suspicion, if it was possible. It would be best to make herself appear as meek and agreeable as possible until she could explore this place on her own and find the answers she needed.
As they exited the room, a rough knock came from the front door. Octavia stiffened. As much as the guys didn’t want her at the house, she wanted to be discovered here even less.
Even before Keegan could tell her to make herself invisible, Octavia stepped back into the office and dropped the books on a side table.
Places to hide were limited. Deciding against ducking behind one of the small couches, she quickly slid out of sight behind the office door even as the front door burst open.
Keegan blinked at the empty doorway to the office for a second before turning back to face their guest. “Travers—what do you want?”
His tone wasn’t welcoming in the least, more like addressing a dog that had rolled in shit and planned to fling it all over the house.
Keegan crossed his arms, his legs spread, silently blocking the entrance to the office, as if protecting her. It was so beyond her experience, she cocked her head and stared at him in confusion. Then training took over, and Octavia peeked through the gap between the door and the hinges to study the threat.
The man was maybe a year or two older than the guys in the house, but any similarities ended there. While he wore weapons and battle gear, the man strutted around like a peacock, a superior smirk on his face as he looked down at Keegan. “Where’s Warrick? I have a job for him.”
A muscle ticked in Keegan’s jaw, and Octavia half expected him to deck the asshole. Instead, he gave the man a nod. “In the kitchen. If you’ll follow me.”
Travers sneered, then turned and headed directly toward her. “I’ll wait for him in the study.”
Octavia squeezed herself against the wall, holding her breath when he passed just inches from her hiding spot. The smell of burnt plastic emanating from him was overpowering, and she scrunched her nose in distaste. Keegan remained frozen in place for a second, his gaze darting around the room, then he spun and headed toward the kitchen.
She debated whether to try and make her escape, but instinct warned her if she moved, she’d be caught. It didn’t take long for footsteps to whisper across the floor as Travers began to not-so-discreetly search the room. Every passing second brought him closer and closer to her hiding spot.
Just when he was two feet away from where she stood, Warrick entered the study and headed toward the desk. Though he didn’t once glance in her direction, she could feel his silent recriminations and wanted to smack him.
It was his fault for putting her in this situation in the first place.
Only when he was standing behind the desk did Warrick deign to speak. “What do you want, Travers?”
The other man stiffened, straightening to his full height…which made him just slightly shorter than Warrick. That must piss him off. Then the man marched toward the desk and she lost him from view.
“You should treat me with more respect. I come on official duty—”
“We’re not interested.” Warrick sat and slouched back into his seat, his tone brusque. “If that’s all, you may leave.”
“Dammit, Warrick. You’re not listening. The pantheon convened today. This is not a request, this is an order…they want Eldon Wynters found immediately. Since they’re aware of your connections with the old man, they want you to lead the search. They want him taken alive.”
“Explain.” A chill entered the room at Warrick’s lethal tone.
Without waiting for an invitation, Travers took a seat. “He took the Pythia Stone. It’s a normal stone with almost invisible rings, its mysteries only revealed when you funnel power through it until it glows like lava. Humans call similar stones the God’s Eye.”
“And why would they think Eldon took possession of this stone?” Menace coated every word.
As if sensing the danger for the first time, Travers rose to his feet and lifted his arms out in surrender. “I have no idea, but it’s whispered the stone can be used to see the future and the pantheon wants it back. If it falls into the wrong hands, it could be disastrous.”
Warrick rose to his feet and planted his hands on the desk. “And why would they think Eldon took it? In over three hundred years, his loyalty has never once been questioned. Why now?”
Octavia wanted to bolt out from behind the door and call the asshole a liar. Eldon was many things, but a thief wasn’t one of them.
Travers stumbled back, then scowled at his sign of weakness and lifted his chin to look down his nose at Warrick. “He’s been acting erratic the last few months, then disappeared completely last night. None of the gods can find him to question him. It’s best that he turn himself over to them before they start the hunt in earnest.”
With that threat, he spun sharply on his heel and marched out the door, the air practically churning with violence in his wake.
Just when she was about to step out of her hiding spot, Warrick flung the door away from her, the whole wall shaking as it slammed shut with an ominous thud. He stood in front of her, hands on his hips, his pale blue eyes bitterly cold, the single circle of dark gray swirling around the edges of them as he wrestled his daemon urges back into submission. “What did the two of you get messed up in?”
Not one to be intimidated, Octavia crossed her arms and hiked up her chin. “Eldon would never steal anything. I don’t give a shit what your friend says. He’s wrong.”
“Not my friend,” Warrick muttered, then stormed back across the room. “Of course he’s lying. If Eldon took the stone, it was to keep it safe. He would never betray the pantheon.”
The starch went out of her spine a little and she wandered closer, watching Warrick pour himself a drink. Instead of downing it, he swirled the amber liquid around in the glass, staring at it contemplatively, watching the light hit the liquid until it glowed.
“Why didn’t you tell him Eldon died?” Octavia ventured closer, practically able to see the wheels in his brain turning.
“They already know. The only way for a daemon to disappear is with the help of the demigods…or death.” He downed the liquid in one gulp, grimacing at the sting, and gave her a bitter smile that made her chest ache with loss. “They’re hunting for information.”
He studied her for a long while, his expression inscrutable. “It’s daemon business, and it has nothing to do with me or my men.”
Octavia’s eyes went wide at the way he brushed away her question. “But—”
“Eldon was also a cagey bastard.” Sorrow and admiration tinged Warrick’s expression. “If he took the stone, it’s none of my business. I won’t help them find what he wanted to keep safe.”
He set the glass down at the corner of his desk with a controlled violence that showed he wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted her to believe.
The fucker knew something.
She clamped her mouth shut to avoid throwing accusations at him. She wouldn’t get any answers out of him that way.
No, if she wanted the truth, she was going to have to dig for it herself.
Chapter Seven
Warrick
Warrick repressed a sigh when he saw her eyes spark in challenge. She wasn’t going to let it rest. He had a good idea what happened to the stone…he was looking at her.
Eldon’s cryptic response, saying it had to be this way, now made sense.
He’d seen the future and knew he was going to die. Instead of trying to save himself, Eldon manipulated circumstances to get the girl to them…which meant that the alternative futures were worse than death. Warrick didn’t think he would be able to accept his own fate so gracefully. By the gods, he was going to miss the wily old bastard. He shook off his troubling thoughts and studied the legacy Eldon left him to deal with—Octavia.
The woman who was either going to be their savior or the death of them.
If Eldon didn’t know, that meant the future was uncertain. Until Warrick learned more, his hands were tied, and they were stuck with her.
He didn’t pretend that he wasn’t studying her.
Daemon Grudge Page 5
