Daemon Grudge

by Stacey Brutger

  She tripped over her own feet as she entered her room. “Pit?”

  That didn’t sound good at all.

  “The pit is where the trainees fight each other until one surrenders or gets beaten unconscious.” He crossed his arms, his muscles bulging as he struggled to hold his emotions in check.

  For some reason, she suspected that the second option was the only option.

  He shifted, his voice turning gruff. “We’ll get a better measure of your fighting techniques tomorrow, and work on any gaps in your education.”

  Octavia tossed her bag on the bed, rolling her shoulders as she turned to face him. “You’re assuming I don’t already know how to fight.”

  He lifted an amused brow at her. “If we didn’t think you could fight, we would never have brought you here. But you might find it difficult to defend yourself when people have the ability to toss fire at you or pull you underground or drown you with a thought.”

  She just blinked at him.

  Crap.

  A startling new thought occurred to her. “I’ve always had strength and speed thanks to Kronos…but you think I’ve inherited more, don’t you?”

  He grunted in agreement. “I do.”

  She waited, but when he didn’t elaborate, she huffed and planted her hands on her hips. “Eldon thought so, too. When do I find out what these mysterious powers are and how to use them?”

  “Most abilities manifest at puberty. A person just…knows.”

  So helpful.

  “Are we sure I even have any abilities?” Because it would suck to go to all this trouble just to discover she was a dud.

  “You were able to heal yourself the other day, and fast, so we know you have a little Atlantean in you.” Nikos pulled himself up and peered at her over the top of the couch, his hair tousled and sexy in a way that made her heart skip a beat, and she stared at him a beat longer than was polite.

  Damn if he didn’t look cuddly.

  Octavia grimaced at the stray thought, then focused on what was important. “While that’s a great ability, it’s not going to save me from getting my ass handed to me tomorrow. Is there no other way to check what powers I may have inherited?”

  She hated going into a fight unprepared.

  “Not a good idea.” Nikos shook his head, giving her a lopsided smile. “Only the demigods have the ability to peer into your soul and discover your abilities. They’re the last people you want near you right now.”

  Right…the whole problem of them discovering the Pythia Stone and killing her to gain control of it.

  She rubbed her brow with a heavy sigh.

  “Go get some sleep.” Atticus leaned closer, and her brain fractured, her heart slamming hard against her ribs, and she couldn’t help but star at his lips. Instead of kissing her like she expected, he grabbed the doorknob and gently pulled the door shut. “Sleep well.”

  Octavia remain rooted to the same spot long after the door closed between them, the excitement of a moment ago turning to crushing disappointment.

  Which was stupid.

  She didn’t want him to kiss her, right?

  She surveyed the room and sighed, her shoulders slumping at the jail-size cell. The light gray walls only reinforced the impression. The small bed was shoved against the wall, and a tiny end table next to it had an alarm clock and small lamp that battled for space. There also was a dresser inside the closet and…nothing else.

  She opened the door near the foot of the bed and discovered a tiny bathroom with a sink, toilet and a shower that was barely large enough to fit one of the guys.

  And it appeared to be connected to the room next door.

  Heat slid along her skin at the thought of walking into the bathroom while Warrick was showering, and she quickly backed away, slamming the door against temptation, annoyed that her breathing had gotten erratic.

  Not bothering to unpack in case she needed to leave in a hurry, she tossed her bag on top of the dresser. She stripped down to her tank top and underwear then slipped under the covers, trying to understand how she’d lost control of her life.

  It took her more than a few minutes to banish the image of Warrick in the shower, wet and scrubbing himself, soap bubbles sliding down his bare skin, and she eventually fell into a restless sleep.

  It was much too soon when heavy pounding on her door woke her like a shock of pure adrenaline through her system. One second Octavia was on the bed, the next she was wide awake, standing beside it with a set of blades in her hands. She blinked a few times, glancing around her room until memories of yesterday filtered back into her brain.

  Eldon was dead.

  A chasm opened up in her chest, the pain crushing, but she shoved it away. She didn’t have time to deal with his death, not if she wanted to find out why he died and how to stop the coming war.

  “If you don’t come out, I will come in and drag your ass out of bed. You have five minutes.” Warrick banged on the door one more time, the wood shivering under the pressure, and she didn’t doubt that he’d do exactly what he said.

  She grabbed a set of clothes and hurried to the bathroom. After changing, she barely had enough time to splash water on her face before she strapped on her blades and walked into the main room.

  A glance at the windows revealed a wall of darkness, and she grumbled when she saw the sun wasn’t even over the horizon yet. Keegan was at the counter reading, finishing his bowl of cereal. Warrick dumped his dishes in the sink, while Atticus took a last bite of his sandwich. Nikos was more of a zombie as he leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee, staring at nothing.

  They were all silent, lost in their thoughts, clearly not happy to have returned.

  As she walked toward the kitchen and the temptation of food, Warrick led the way to the door and called over his shoulder. “If you want to eat, I suggest you wake up earlier tomorrow.”

  Keegan shut his book, gave her a sympathetic smile, and followed Warrick out the door. Nikos sighed, filled his cup one more time, then left as well. Atticus lifted a cloth off the counter to reveal half a sandwich, silently nudging the plate toward her.

  She snatched up the peace offering and jammed it into her mouth, fighting the sudden impulse to lean forward and kiss him. As she trudged toward the elevator, she wolfed down her sandwich before anyone could take it from her.

  No one spoke as Warrick pressed the button for subterranean level two—the gym and the pit.

  The elevator descended quickly, no one speaking, the tension so thick she half expected an attack at any moment. The guys wore jeans and T-shirts, similar to her, though theirs were of better quality. She didn’t see any weapons on them, but she doubted they ever left the room without being armed.

  Her eyes trailed over Warrick. She couldn’t detect any lingering stiffness from his recent injuries, and barely resisted the urge to trail her hands down his back to confirm he was completely healed.

  As the door pinged and opened, she shook off the fanciful thoughts and braced herself to move quickly if needed.

  Only to be slightly disappointed when no attack awaited them, nothing but a rough cement hallway stretching out in front them. The deeper they went underground, the dingier it became. The hallways were narrow and lit with emergency lights, reminding her of a horror show, and she wouldn’t be surprised to look up and see something plucked from her nightmares scurrying along the shadows.

  Shouts and grunts of combat could be heard ahead as they moved through the passageways. When they turned a corner the hallway widened like a stadium, leading them into a giant cavern nearly two stories tall. The walls were more of a natural cavern than an actual room.

  She now understood why it was called the pit.

  Stands covered the second level, railings the only thing keeping the audience from falling to the dirt floor fifteen feet below. The ground was so stained from centuries of daemons bleeding on it, the sand was almost black. A hint of stale blood lingered in the air, nearly buried under sweat and a churning
blend of hope and despair. Death hovered in the shadows, ready to claim the next soul.

  The lights were more like spotlights, illuminating the center of the arena. There was a similar entrance on the opposite side of the cavern, which she assumed led to the gym, and she spied a handful of people spilling into the room, no more than a dozen total.

  They caught sight of her, interest sparking their eyes. Though most of them appeared younger than her, there was a cunning to them that spoke of ambition and determination to survive…but no real, hard experience.

  “Don’t you dare pity them. It’s a weakness that’ll get you killed,” Atticus snarled as he studied the competition with narrowed eyes, sizing them up and picking out the biggest threats. “They’d happily cut your throat at the first opportunity. They don’t have control of their abilities yet, which makes them even more dangerous. Most of them see you as an obstacle, competition to defeat if they want to live.”

  “Learning to master our abilities doesn’t have to mean killing each other,” Octavia protested, but she knew learning her new abilities wouldn’t be that simple. Damned if she had a clue about how to survive when so many other daemons who had a lifetime to prepare couldn’t.

  “Sometimes that’s one and the same. Not all daemons are created equal, and strength doesn’t necessarily equal cunning.” His eyes caressed the side of her face, but she refused to look at him, using her time to study the twenty or so people who were spread out across the cavern.

  Her competition.

  “It’s survival of the fittest,” Atticus continued, “and they’ll stab you in the back if it means getting ahead. They need to be the best if they want to attract the attention of the most powerful demigods and the privileges that would entail. Earning protection of the demigods is the only way to guarantee their safety.”

  One trainee, a big brute of a man nearly twice the size of the rest, gave her a vicious smile, malice darkening his eyes when his gaze locked on her. Then he let out a bellow that reverberated throughout the cavern, drawing everyone’s attention. “Fresh meat!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Keegan surveyed the pit, then nodded toward the others. Nikos and Atticus split off, Nikos toward the opposite side of the pit and a small group of waiting daemons who were sparring with each other. He didn’t say anything, but leaned against the wall, crossed his foot over his ankle and continued to sip his coffee.

  Atticus, on the other hand, went directly toward the new group that just entered, his expression fierce. Most of the group faltered at his approach, their laughter choked off.

  She didn’t get to see more when Warrick stepped into her path and crossed his arms. She glanced up at him and raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

  “Keegan will walk you through your paces.” He nodded over her head to his second in command, and she swiftly spun, not putting it past them to attack while her back was turned. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Octavia stifled her snort, like she was a fucking horse or something, but she understood the need. Keegan set his book down on the bench, then placed his neatly folded glasses on top. He straightened, reaching up to tie back his chin-length hair, revealing his strong jaw—and her breath caught. She should be thrilled she didn’t have to face Warrick, but there was something about the way Keegan moved, a graceful, elegant way that said he was aware of every inch of his body and knew how to use it.

  She shook her head, trying to banish her fanciful thoughts, but it wasn’t so easy.

  The man was sexy as fuck.

  One glance was enough to make her legs weaken and send any girl to her knees in front of him in worship. She rolled her eyes at her own foolishness.

  As he turned, he studied her, not as a woman, but as an opponent, searching for weaknesses, and she knew she was about to get her ass handed to her. She just hoped she would be able to take him down at least once before she bit the dirt.

  Needing a distraction from all the eyes watching, she volleyed a question at him. “Tell me about the pits.”

  Keegan cocked his head, as if considering her request, not bothering to halt as he prowled toward her. “The pit is where you’ll be training with your competition and future teammates. It’s also the only place in the entire barracks where you’re allowed to use your abilities.”

  His voice was deep and smooth, lulling her to relax, and she fought against it, her instincts warning her of danger. Not a second later, he moved so fast he was a blur. She barely got her arms up in time to block the blow aimed to crush her face. She twisted quickly, getting out of the way of his kick, but not fast enough.

  Instead of breaking her leg, the blow hit the side of her thigh with bruising force. Not letting him get away, she jammed her fist into the tender inside of his thigh. It didn’t even slow him down. He leapt off the ground, twisted his other leg, and smashed it against her chest.

  As she flew backwards, he spun in the air and landed on his feet like a cat. She didn’t land so gracefully, her back slamming into the ground with brutal force, a little spray of sand billowing up around her from the impact.

  Her lungs refused to work.

  Instead of lying there like a turtle stuck on its back, training took over and she rolled, just missing the stomp to her chest. She kicked out, sweeping his leg out from under him, only to watch him flip like a fucking ninja.

  She scarcely had enough time to get back on her own feet to face off with him. They circled each other, waiting for an opening, her chest jerking when her breath finally returned to her in fits and starts. “When will we learn the different type of abilities?”

  Keegan’s lips twitched, as if he knew what she was trying to do.

  “Are you aware of the Greek gods?” He quirked a brow at her.

  So, he wasn’t opposed to talking.

  She could use his willingness to squeeze information out of him.

  Before she had time to respond, he stepped forward and went through a series of blows she barely had time to deflect. One to the face, two to the ribs. Not to be distracted, she kicked forward, nicking his ankle enough that he stumbled, then retreated.

  “Of course.” She kept her steps light, watching his face…or, more importantly, his eyes. It was only a second, but the moment his gaze dropped, she was ready for him, ducking under the kick he aimed at her head, then came up swinging behind him, landing two blows to his kidneys.

  He grunted at the hit, but it didn’t slow him down, and he spun to face her once more. “Daemons inherit their powers from the gods. They usually have one main ability and two minor ones that they learn to wield.”

  One minute he was standing across from her, the next he streaked toward her. The air bending around him, the molecules pushing him forward instead of slowing him down.

  Her body warmed, time slowed, the air vibrating around her as she slipped through it. She managed to move two feet when gravity grabbed hold and dropped her back to earth with a thump. She staggered a little, then whirled to stare at Keegan in confusion. “How did I do that?”

  The green shards in his brown eyes sparkled as he openly observed her. “You couldn’t do that before?”

  She shook her head, then stopped, remembering the morning after Eldon died in her arms. “Only after.”

  After she woke up a different person.

  “It’s one of the Amazon traits...the ability to move silently and quickly.” His measured look studied her. “Now do it again.”

  It took her three tries to be able to move one foot. In the next hour, he put her through her paces over and over, using his fists and feet to keep her going. By the end, she could move ten feet before she was dropped back down to earth, leaving her physically exhausted and swimming in sweat. “No more.”

  It was a battle to even find enough air.

  She sat on her ass in the dirt, her chest heaving while she struggled to breathe. She didn’t think she could get to her feet even if he decided to stomp on her.

  Keegan came to stand over her, his h
ead cocked, studying her like she was a fascinating puzzle he couldn’t quit figure out. “You have ten minutes. Then we’ll start again.”

  She fell back against the ground with a groan and called out to his retreating back. “What are you?”

  He turned, lips pursed, as if debating whether to answer her. Then he crouched down next to her, speaking so softly no one else could hear. “Some will tell you their abilities, others are more discreet so they can use it against their opponent. I’m Moerae, Atlantean, and Amazon—a soothsayer with a minor talent with water and healing and a lethal ability to stalk my prey unseen.”

  She blinked up at him, his husky voice rubbing seductively along her skin. “Why tell me?” The question was barely a whisper of air.

  Why would he give her power over him?

  He reached over, lifting her chin, studying her like he found her captivating, and she couldn’t look away, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. Heat sank deep in her gut, and she couldn’t keep herself from leaning into his touch.

  She grunted against the urge to reach for him and explore his face, wanting to see if she would get burned. Her fingertips tingled, and she curled them into fists to resist temptation, refusing to be swayed.

  It was simply the new powers.

  She would learn to control them, not the other way around.

  Octavia tipped her face away from his touch, biting back a groan at the loss, only able to think clearly again without the delicious smell of baked bread that invited her to take a bite out of him. “How do I learn about my other abilities?”

  He let his hand fall away, then got to his feet quickly, as if he felt the same attraction. His eyes cooled as he gazed down at her, his inspection clinical as he surveyed her from head to toe. “The only way to know for sure is to check your family. Most family members have similar abilities. Since you’re an orphan, only a demigod would be able to detect your ancestry.”