He was determined to uncover all her secrets, and his body tightened with interest at the challenge.
Her skin practically glowed with power, her eyes so blue and mischievous, it almost hurt to have them aimed his way, and damn if she didn’t smell like some type of addicting flower. He’d tossed and turned in his bed all night, the scent driving him nuts.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her die in front of him, again and again. Throughout the night he woke up in a cold sweat, wrestling with the need to check and confirm she was still breathing.
Fucking hell, he even walked past her room like a lovesick fool, disgruntled to find the big brute Atticus watching over her like some fucking guard dog.
Worse, he couldn’t blame the guy.
He would’ve traded places with him in a heartbeat.
It must be the stone.
It was calling to them on some level.
When not in use, the stone was benign and rested in the pantheon catacombs, away from the public eye. He’d seen the stone used once. The humans’ name for it—God’s Eye—wasn’t far off. It gave the demigods the ability to see the future, but it took someone with a lot of power to be able to use it.
If the stone felt threatened, it would select a protector.
One touch and it would merge with them.
It was also a death sentence.
Every time the stone revealed the future, it consumed more of the host until there was nothing left.
When Eldon died, the stone must have sensed danger and somehow transferred itself over to the girl—along with all its powers. She was like no daemon he’d ever seen. He could practically feel the dormant powers humming where they rested under her skin.
He couldn’t imagine how beautiful she would be when she came into her abilities.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure the raw power would be enough to save her life. If she started seeing flashes of the future, it would only be a matter of time before she followed Eldon into death, and everything inside him rebelled at the idea of her dying.
He had to find a way to get the stone out of her before it killed her. He walked around the desk and began belting on weapons, the girl watching him warily. He had to admit he loved her spunk, the way she stood her ground when confronted by his anger and didn’t run screaming from the room.
He wanted to go to the pantheon and demand assistance, but he wasn’t sure they could be trusted. The stone obviously considered someone on the inside a threat. Until he knew more, he had to keep the knowledge of the stone’s location to himself.
From the first time he saw Octavia, he knew there was something different about her. If he had to guess, Eldon knew it, too, and tried to protect her. More troubling, when Eldon died, his benefactor should’ve come for him and harvested the residual energy that bound them together. Instead, Octavia had took his power into herself…and lived.
He wasn’t sure how it was possible—unless she was more than just a daemon. As he shoved a second blade into his boot, he contemplated the alternatives and came to one conclusion—the stone. It had chosen her as its new master and forged her into the perfect weapon.
Maybe he had it all wrong. Maybe she had been the end goal the whole time, the stone searching for her and using Eldon to do it. Or maybe with Eldon’s death, the stone merged with the closest daemon who had no ties to the pantheon or other daemons, where it could remain hidden.
He just hoped she was strong enough to withstand the effects until he could find out the truth.
If he was wrong, it would only be a matter of time before she turned to ash, too.
He shoved two more blades into the sheaths on his wrists, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
She was a slip of a girl, but there was a hardness to her that told of a harsh life. He scanned her again, felt her power pulse under her skin, but she was like no one he’d ever met, not human, daemon, or demigod, but possibly something much more.
One who was immune to his abilities and, according to Nikos, could possibly heal herself or mimic the powers of those around her.
She was an enigma.
She was dangerous.
And she was fragile until she came into her powers and could learn to protect herself fully.
He had no clue why the stone didn’t consume her, how she was able to contain everything without it destroying her and those around her.
And she didn’t have a fucking clue.
But Eldon must have suspected something.
He’d dragged himself across town to get the girl to them instead of going to someone who might have been able to save him.
All to protect and keep her safe.
And Warrick was supposed to fucking train her while guarding her until her abilities fully developed. As he strapped on his gun belt, Warrick nearly snorted at the near-impossible task. If anyone discovered the truth before they could train her, they’d carve the stone out of her and take the power for themselves, killing her in the process.
The old man had left him a mess that he wasn’t sure he could fix.
But he would try.
He owed the old bastard that much.
They were free of the daemon world, earned their freedom by their blood, sweat, and tears, as much as one can be free when at the mercy of the gods. They were now being pulled back into the life that nearly got him and his men killed, and he didn’t appreciate being dragged back into that hell.
Worse, they were on a time limit. It wouldn’t take long for them to discover Eldon was dead and connect it to the troublesome girl. While Eldon would’ve taken precautions not to be found, he didn’t have the power to defy the demigods or death.
Warrick moved to the side case, flipped the lid open and removed the sword, quickly strapping it on to his back. He needed to prepare the girl for what was to come.
She stood in the middle of the room, all defiant, not an ounce of fear in her.
That would soon change, and his heart twinged at thought of her being crushed under the full force of the pantheon when they came after her. Though he was reluctant to admit it out loud, part of him relished the upcoming fight, his weapons a welcome, familiar weight. Fire burned in his gut for the first time in a decade at the thought of protecting Octavia as Eldon had done for them so long ago.
But he needed one thing from her before he could trust her—he needed to catch Eldon’s killers and make them pay.
“We have one thing we need done before we can begin training.” Warrick crossed the room and marched toward her with determined strides, practically bristling with weapons. The dark, purposeful expression on his face made her insides all tingly.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure if it was in warning or pure lust. She was an idiot, but there was just something sexy as fuck about a man who knew what to do with a weapon and could hold his own in a fight.
“And what would that be?” She was proud her words didn’t emerge as a husky purr.
“You’re going to take us to the location of the fight where you found Eldon.”
Oh, shit.
The demand was like having a bucket of cold water splashed in her face, quickly dousing her lusty thoughts. The last thing she wanted was to have her two worlds collide.
She wasn’t sure either side would survive.
But the ass didn’t give her time to protest, leaving her standing in the office while he strode out. By the time she caught up with him, the rest of the team had gathered to wait for instructions.
“Now wait a minute.” She stood in front of the front door, feeling ridiculous in her over-sized clothing, but she refused to let that deter her. “I didn’t agree to any of this. I—”
Warrick gave her a sharp smile that transformed his face from an asshole to seriously hot asshole, and she had to blink a few times in order to hear what he was saying.
“Think of it as part of your training. Seeing us in action will give you a better understanding of how we work.”
From the hard gleam in his
pale blue eyes, she knew he wouldn’t budge.
With or without her, they were going to hunt down the people responsible.
Kronos.
Her old team.
And she very much feared that neither side would survive the confrontation. She didn’t give a rat’s ass if the soldiers Kronos sent were slaughtered. They’d just find more to replace them.
No, what bothered her was that if she didn’t go with them, Warrick and his men would die, and her stomach pitched at the thought of being the one responsible.
It didn’t take long for all the guys to reassemble with their gear, prepared to head out, and she cursed that she’d already given away the location of the fight. If she opted not to go, they would be walking into a trap.
Fuck. Fuckety. Fuck. Fuck.
“Fine.” Resisting the urge to snarl, she turned on her heel and marched toward the door. “But I want a change of clothes first.”
They all piled into one vehicle, the ride blessedly quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Octavia tugged distractedly at the ill-fitting clothes she picked up at the local gas station when they refused to stop anywhere else. She had to buy a size larger than she normally wore just to make them fit her new body.
She couldn’t get comfortable in her own skin, and it was beginning to annoy her.
The guys didn’t appear the least bit concerned at the unexpected changes, so she knew they must have something to do with the missing memories from last night, and it pissed her off that they were refusing to explain anything.
As they neared the abandoned zone, she leaned forward and tapped the side of the driver’s seat. “It would be best if we park outside the zone and walk the rest of the way.”
Atticus didn’t wait for an order from Warrick, but immediately parked in the nearest side street, away from prying eyes…as much as one can be hidden when surrounded by men right out of a stripper catalog. Wherever they went, they drew attention.
“Whatever you see in the zone…don’t react to it. Don’t get sucked into a confrontation. If they see you as a mark, you might as well hand over your cash and weapons and hope they take pity on you and leave you in big enough pieces that you can walk out alive.”
She could practically feel Warrick roll his eyes at her back, but no one objected. Maybe they were smarter than they looked, but she doubted it. She was tempted to refuse to go any farther, but they would only go on without her, and that was unacceptable.
The guys walked the last three blocks with quick strides, scanning everything they passed. The few people they saw gazed at them suspiciously before quickly disappearing when they caught sight of her with them, knowing better than to cause trouble. It was early afternoon, but the daylight was already covered by a haze that never really left the zone. Thankfully there was never much traffic where they were going.
The closer they got, the fewer cars and even fewer people roamed the streets. Storefronts were nothing but shells of their former selves. She could tell the instant they reached the zone, where the outside world and its rules and laws ceased to exist.
The homeless, a hooker or two, and a small gang were the few people visible on the streets. The buildings, what was left of them, were falling down around them. The roads had buckled in spots, the concrete cracked where plants and trees tried to reclaim the space. Sidewalks were marred by a mixture of sand and cracks. The street lights were shattered, more than half of the poles bent or completely destroyed.
The smell was different here, too.
It was where hope went to die.
And with each step, the guys became more alert, pulling closer into formation, no longer bothering to roam ahead.
“Tavia…you in trouble?” A big dude with the most beautiful mocha skin pushed away from the building where he held court. He was covered with tats, scars, and weapons in equal measure. He wore jeans and shit-kicker boots that could break bones, and a reinforced leather jacket that would protect him from blades and heavy blows from fists and pipes.
She would know—she’s the one who gave the jacket to him when he took a knife in the back while protecting a kid.
He walked toward them with a loose-limbered gait that spoke of years of fighting. His men fanned out behind him, each pulling weapons, carefully studying their opponents as if eager for the taste of blood.
Warrick and his men tensed, but otherwise stayed behind her.
At least they could follow orders.
“Everything’s good, Rogers.” She gave him a nod, and he and his men halted, surveying the guys one last time with narrowed eyes before retreating back to their posts.
When they turned the corner, Nikos looked at her with questions in his dark brown eyes. “Friends of yours?”
Octavia shrugged, keeping her attention focused on the streets and windows around them. The air was cooler in the zone, the buildings casting ominous shadows, almost like the darkness was following them.
“Not really. The city is a place where the unwanted gather, the lost souls, or those who just don’t want to be found.” She turned down another alley, leading them farther into the city, taking the long way to the center square, determined to check out their surroundings first. “To make sure only the right kind of people enter, patrols are set up. Rogers and his men take care of the south side. They’re the strongest, so they stand between the city and the people beyond. It also means they get to keep any booty they relieve off anyone stupid enough to come out this way.”
Keegan’s amber eyes were shaded green when he glanced at her. “Which border is yours?”
Octavia raised a brow at him. “What makes you think I have any say in what goes on around here?”
Warrick snorted, not bothering to look at her. “They knew you by name. They were going to come to your rescue.”
Octavia couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. “You guys are wearing enough weapons and money to supply them with food for a month or more. The only thing stopping them from claiming you was me. They weren’t coming to my rescue…they wanted your weapons and money.”
Atticus gave her a very toothy, confident smile. “They would’ve tried.”
“Do you imagine they know nothing about your kind and how to kill you?” Octavia just rolled her eyes at the stupidity of men. “While you might be a big secret to most of the world, you fail to keep yourself hidden from people you think are beneath your notice.”
She lifted her chin, gesturing to the world around them. “Are you even aware of how many eyes are watching us right now?”
Each of the men tensed further and studied the buildings and alleys around them more closely.
“Do you imagine that the homeless here are helpless?” Octavia snorted at the thought. “Their day job is to go out into the real world and collect secrets. Any money they receive while begging for tips is a bonus. The real money is in what people let slip while talking on their phones or who they see sneaking off to meet in the middle of the night. Information is money here and it pays well.”
The guys’ amusement leaked away, but she wasn’t done. “You see them as the dregs of society, but they have their own social hierarchy in the zone. Each person has a place and earns their keep or they don’t stay.”
“And what is your job?” Warrick’s voice was a low murmur that rubbed along her nerves like honey, urging her to get close enough for him to trap her and make her spill her secrets.
Her head snapped in his direction, and she narrowed her eyes. He was supposed to be the asshole of the group. She almost felt betrayed to discover he was so good at seduction that she couldn’t stop imagining the hours of practice he must have put into his work. She debated not answering, but she wanted to kill their curiosity now before it turned deadly.
She settled on giving them a half-truth instead. “I’m more of a meddler, part of the society, yet not. If trouble comes into the city, they get me to deal with it. Otherwise, I watch over the children…as much as one can watch over a herd of feral cats.”
As they approached the center square, her senses kicked into overdrive, her skin itching with warning, static licking along her spine, and she knew they were no longer alone. “We’re nearly there.”
She didn’t have to say more. The guys fell silent, each sinking into warrior mode. They slipped from shadow to shadow, so well she couldn’t help but be a little envious how easy they made it look. It took her months of training to be nearly half as good.
Thanks to Eldon, her skills now rivaled the guys’. If she didn’t want to be seen, she could pass within a foot of a person without them noticing. As the square came into view, she paused and crouched behind the half wall, the rest of the guys following her lead.
The square resembled a war zone. Bullet holes pockmarked the walls and sidewalks. Blood soaked the ground and splattered the buildings, black liquid pooling across the cement like the fingers of death had reached into the bodies and painted their last moments.
More than a dozen bodies were scattered about and left to rot.
They remained untouched by the people who lived in the zone, the inhabitants knowing better than to scavenge the dead without being given the all clear.
Atticus swore at the destruction, while Nikos was getting ready to crawl over the wall to check for survivors, and she reached over, grabbing the back of his shirt to stop him.
“We’re not alone.” She nodded to two different buildings across the square. “It’s a trap.”
The Kronos soldiers left men behind in hopes of catching stragglers or any daemon who came to investigate—and more than one of those soldiers was enhanced.
Keegan studied the buildings, then gave a nod of confirmation to Warrick. “I can get into them.”
“Are you fucking serious?” Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head, and she hissed at them. “They know how to fight daemons—they even have some on their team. They’ll know you’re coming.”
“You can sense them from here, can’t you?” Atticus gave her a speculative look.
She silently cursed the slip and scowled up at him. “You came. You saw. Let’s leave. We can return in a day or two and bury the bodies.”
Daemon Grudge Page 6
