Calistos: Guardians of Hades Series Book 5

by Heaton, Felicity

  Sheer heaven.

  Sometimes, the only way to cope was to do this—to tango with death—or at least pain.

  He couldn’t help himself.

  Sometimes, it all became too much and he didn’t want to live. Not without her. Not as half a person.

  A pretty blonde flashed across his eyes, her blue-green gaze pulling him under her spell. His blood stained her clothing, and fatigue lined her features, but there was relief there too as she checked on him. Her lilting French accent soothed his pain, eased his heart as he relaxed in the saddle, easing off the throttle.

  Falling deeper under her spell.

  She had taken care of him, the first woman to do that in a very long time, and how had he repaid her?

  By taking her memories.

  His gut churned whenever he thought about that and how terrified she had been. He should have stood up to his father. He should have done something rather than just standing there, going along with everything when he knew how debilitating it was to not remember things.

  Keras appeared on the road in the distance. Cars swerved around his brother, horns honking and tyres screeching as he stood in the middle of the busy road.

  Staring Cal down.

  Keras looked even more pissed than when Cal had teleported away from him to London to grab his bike. Probably because Cal had chosen to teleport the beautiful black and lime green beast back to Paris to cut up the streets of Keras’s city.

  Cal gunned the engine again, bringing his speed back up to ninety as he roared towards his brother.

  Keras didn’t move.

  Didn’t flinch.

  Not even when Cal slammed the brakes on and screeched to a halt just inches from his brother’s legs, his rear tyre lifting up off the tarmac before bouncing back down again.

  He glared into Keras’s impassive emerald eyes, looking for a reaction there. Nothing.

  Sometimes, Cal was convinced that Keras danced with death too—that he liked to hurt himself for some reason.

  Sometimes, there was something different about his brother.

  “You need to stop.” Those words, so calm, so steady, rang a warning bell in Cal’s head. Keras’s eyes slowly narrowed on him. “Before you hurt someone.”

  Cal shrugged. “I’ll heal if I fall off.”

  It was the ultimate downside of being a god. He could heal most injuries given a solid seven hours sleep. Hell, Valen had lost his hand once in a fight and had grown it back. It had been disgusting. Valen had taken full advantage of having a skeletal hand, giving Cal the heebie-jeebies with it every damned day.

  “They won’t.” Keras tilted his head towards the traffic still swerving around them, blaring horns and hollering abuse in their direction.

  His brother dramatically swept his long black coat open and touched the small windshield of the bike. Darkness embraced them, the ease with which Keras managed to teleport him plus the vehicle not failing to impress Cal as they landed in another street in Paris.

  An empty one.

  Keras bore down on him, still gripping the bike. “The last time you were hurt, you ended up in hospital and almost exposed us. Do you want that to happen again?”

  That sounded like a fantastic idea, provided the hospital he ended up in was the one where the woman worked.

  He kept that to himself though since Keras looked close to blowing a fuse, the first true emotional reaction Cal had seen from him this week. His brother was a bit too like their father sometimes, able to get his anger and disappointment across with a calm voice, relaxed posture, and not a hint of emotion showing in his eyes.

  It was probably the reason why Cal enjoyed poking at him until he finally cracked.

  That and the fact Keras would never get off his case.

  He opened his mouth to tell his brother to do just that.

  A harrowing shriek pierced the evening air.

  A sickening swirling sensation slammed into his gut.

  “Daemons,” he spat, and judging by the dark look that entered Keras’s eyes, his brother had felt them too.

  Cal killed the engine and kicked the stand on the bike down. He eased off it and pulled it up onto the stand, shoved his keys into the pocket of his black jeans and waited.

  Keras scoured their surroundings, a bloodhound on the hunt. His green eyes narrowed on a side street. Cal grabbed him before he could step without him, unwilling to let his brother get to the daemons first. He needed a fight too. He needed to blow off some steam. The ride had come close to doing that for him since he found every damned female he came across to be lacking now, but then Keras had riled him again.

  Darkness, cool and inviting, swept around him and when it parted, the heavy scent of spilled daemon blood hit him. Someone had beaten them to the party.

  “Damn it,” he spat and released his brother, surged forwards towards the corner of the street, where it met a road that ran along a river.

  Maybe a few of the daemons had survived whatever had hit them between him sensing them and his brother teleporting him closer to the action.

  Which was around the blink of an eye.

  What had managed to take down a daemon in such a small space of time?

  And why couldn’t he sense the rest of the daemons now?

  There had been a lot of them.

  He got the answer to those questions when he rounded the corner.

  He slammed to a halt, his eyes widening as he surveyed the carnage, unable to believe what he was seeing. That feeling only grew as he spotted someone stumbling along the street, heading away from it.

  The woman from the hospital.

  Daemon blood covered her, black and oily, soaking into her blonde tresses and her scarlet coat. She muttered things under her breath as she clutched a large instrument case to her chest, her blue eyes locked ahead of her. Distant. Very much dazed.

  Had someone killed these daemons in front of her?

  He stared at her as a thought hit him.

  Had she killed them?

  She took one look at him, her eyes went round and she backpedalled, shaking her head. Her legs gave out and she hit the deck, flinched and held the case tighter as she started rocking. Her shoulders shook violently beneath her red coat.

  “Bodies… bodies everywhere,” she muttered and clutched the black case so hard her fingers turned white. “And blood… so much blood…”

  “What did this?” Keras looked from her to Cal.

  Cal shrugged and offered, “You in a bad mood?”

  Keras glared at him. Cal didn’t apologise for the low blow. Keras had served it up to him so nicely, he would have been a prick not to take it.

  “Just saying. Daemons have a tendency to explode when you’re around. It fits your M.O.”

  Keras eyed the carnage, but didn’t deny that it did resemble something he was capable of when the mood struck him.

  Only Keras had been with him when he had sensed the daemons.

  And the only survivor was the woman now babbling about blood and bodies, and nothing about who did this.

  “We should wipe her memories.” Keras took a step forwards.

  Cal was before him in a flash, his palm slamming against the centre of his brother’s chest. “No.”

  “No? She is a witness.” Keras looked beyond him and he didn’t like the darkness surfacing in his brother’s eyes. “She must be silenced.”

  “Just, leave her alone. She’s traumatised. You can’t see that?” Cal weathered the black look Keras levelled on him. Apparently, his brother couldn’t see something else too, or he had discounted it as impossible. He could understand why. It was way easier to just assume that the daemons had killed each other and she had been caught in the crossfire. Cal glanced over his shoulder at her. “I think she might have done this.”

  “Impossible.” Keras stepped around him, heading for the woman.

  Cal moved in front of him again. “Not impossible. Listen to her.”

  His brother stilled.

  “Blood
… pieces of… bodies. Someone else did this. Someone else. Not me. Please not me.” She removed one hand from her instrument case and shoved her fingers through her messy blonde hair as she sank forwards, coming to rest with her cheek on the case. “I don’t… remember.”

  That struck a chord in Cal, one that resonated inside him and had him moving towards her.

  “She might be dangerous.” Keras seized his shoulder.

  Cal shirked his grip and strode towards her. She might be dangerous, but she was hurting and afraid, and he had to do something about that.

  Her head lifted as he stopped before her, bleak eyes meeting his, revealing how much she hated that she couldn’t remember. He hated it when he forgot things too.

  He eased into a crouch in front of her. “You okay?”

  She shook her head and tears filled her eyes. “They… I remember them falling from the sky. Coming at me. And then nothing… and then this.”

  He looked beyond her. The level of damage was impressive, especially given the short amount of time it had taken place in. A tree had been ripped from the ground and used somewhat imaginatively to decapitate a daemon. A car had been torn apart. Limbs and pieces of daemon were scattered everywhere. A lot of pieces. He could only guess at how many daemons had been involved, and it hit double digits.

  He whistled low when he noticed that even the road was cracked, an impact crater in it now host to a pool of daemon blood and possibly some bones and bits of flesh.

  Cal glanced back at his brother as he came to stand over him. “I amend my earlier observation. It looks like you really got your knickers in a twist.”

  He grinned.

  Keras scowled at him.

  Sighed.

  “She remembers nothing?” Keras jerked his chin towards the woman, a shrewd and calculating edge to his expression as he studied her.

  Cal looked back at her, that feeling that she had done this growing stronger, together with another one.

  “You think this might be a trap?” It wouldn’t be the first one the enemy had set for them, and if it had been any other woman involved, he wouldn’t have found it half as suspicious.

  But it was her.

  Barely a few days ago he had taken her to the Underworld, and now she was surrounded by dead daemons.

  Was she a trap?

  “It wasn’t me,” she murmured, rocking harder, her eyes fixed on his as her brow furrowed.

  She didn’t believe that. She wanted to, was trying to convince herself that she was innocent, but she didn’t believe it. On some level, she knew she had done this.

  “Is she human?” Cal looked to his brother.

  “As far as I can tell.” Keras eased down into a crouch beside him and looked her over. When he lifted his hand, Cal snapped his fingers around his wrist and stopped him from touching her. Keras arched an eyebrow at his hand. “I need to look at her memories.”

  Cal tightened his grip. “She’s traumatised… blanked whatever happened to her for a reason. You go prodding around in there, and she might remember… and it might cause some serious damage.”

  Keras looked as if he needed a better reason not to poke around in her head against her will, inflicting pain upon her.

  Cal huffed, scrubbed a hand over his face, and released his brother. “I know her.”

  “A conquest?”

  He wished she was. He couldn’t get her out of his head, and maybe if he scratched his itch for her, that would happen and he could go back to the life he preferred—one where his dealings with women were fast and forgettable.

  He shook his head, cleared his throat, and tried to think about how to word things.

  Deciding there was no good way to say it, he blurted, “She’s the one I took with me back home.”

  Keras’s right eyebrow arched at that. “She is the female you took with you from that hospital?”

  Cal nodded and tunnelled his fingers through his hair, clawing back the strands that had blown free during his ride. “You think she’s a trap? Keras… do you think I dragged her into this mess?”

  The thought that he might have pulled her into the sights of his enemy, just as Marek had pulled Caterina into them, sat in his stomach like acid-coated lead, weighing him down. She continued to mutter about the havoc she had caused, and each time she mentioned that she couldn’t remember anything, that weight grew a little heavier.

  “I am not sure.” Keras looked her over again, and Cal stopped him when he went to touch her. His brother glanced at him, right into his eyes, his green ones warm with what might have been concern. Sometimes with Keras, it was hard to tell what he was really feeling. He was a master of showing people what they wanted to see, and concealing the way he really felt. “I will not probe.”

  Cal didn’t believe that, but his brother was right about a few things. They had to work together against this enemy, not fight at every turn. They were stronger that way.

  He needed to trust Keras.

  That became difficult when Keras slid his hand along the woman’s jaw and her gaze left Cal, drifting to settle on his brother. Her eyes softened and she leaned towards him, looking for all the world as if his brother was casting some sort of spell on her.

  Bastard probably was.

  Keras had inherited their father’s good looks, tended to draw the focus of women without even trying and could probably have whoever he wanted.

  As Keras leaned towards her too, a need built inside Cal, an urge that bloomed swiftly into something terrible and commanding.

  He wanted to tear Keras away from her.

  “What do you remember?” Keras spoke in a low voice, each word a soft caress that had the woman leaning closer, falling deeper into his eyes.

  “Keras, you said you wouldn’t probe.” Cal gripped his shoulder and pulled him back, and Keras glared at him.

  “I am not probing. Just asking a question.” Keras rolled his shoulder, attempting to dislodge Cal’s hand, but he stood firm, refusing to release his brother. “Calistos.”

  Keras could use the big brother voice on him all he wanted, he wasn’t going to let him near her.

  “I’ll do the questioning,” Cal bit out, the razor-sharpness of each word surprising him.

  And Keras too judging by how his brother stared at him.

  “Very well.” Keras rose to his feet and the woman tilted her head back to keep her eyes on him.

  Her lips parted.

  Cheeks flushed pink.

  Cal barely bit back the growl that wanted to roll up his throat, one designed to make her stop gawping at his better-looking brother and drag her focus back to him, and to tell Keras just what he thought about him addling her mind with his good looks.

  Keras looked down at him in a way that screamed Cal didn’t need to growl at him for him to get the message.

  Cal made sure he drove his point home, unable to stop himself from saying something as he shoved to his feet.

  “I’ll deal with her. I don’t need your help.”

  Keras arched an eyebrow again, studied him in silence for a long, tense minute, and then sighed. “Very well, then. You can remain at the townhouse here with her to watch her while I speak with our brothers about this development.”

  No way.

  “I’ll take her to London,” Cal snapped.

  His brother glanced at the woman, dragging Cal’s focus there, making him realise she was still staring at his brother. He did growl now. She tensed, eyes widening as they leaped to him.

  “You will take her to the townhouse. She is in no condition to be moved to a strange city and the wards on the townhouse are strong. I will watch over London.” Keras’s tone left no room for argument.

  Cal went ahead and did it anyway. “So now I’m babysitting a mortal and Paris?”

  That was a lot of responsibility suddenly dropped on his shoulders. Paris was the second strongest gate. He had never had to deal with it before, and he didn’t want to deal with it now. The city drew powerful daemons to it, partly b
ecause of the gate and partly because they knew Keras ruled it. The thought of being the one to take down Hades’s firstborn son was a huge temptation to daemons.

  And now they were going to find him here instead.

  He wanted to say he wasn’t equipped to handle all this shit, but the woman moved, attempting to get onto her feet. He offered a hand to her on instinct, and surprise claimed him when she slid hers into it, allowing him to pull her onto her feet. He twisted his hand and clutched her forearm close to her elbow to steady her as she wobbled, and forgot everything he was about to say as he fell into her eyes.

  They were more beautiful than he recalled.

  He couldn’t believe it was her.

  The Fates had to be playing with him. He cursed their names and fought the urge to brush his fingers across her cheek and ask her what else was wrong. There was so much pain in her eyes.

  “Find out what you can about her and what happened here. The quicker she talks, the quicker you can return to London.” Keras looked from him to the dead daemons. “I will speak with the others about this, and we will clean up this mess. Ares and the others will help if you need it. Call on them if the gate summons you.”

  But not him. Why?

  Keras was often distant, but not this distant.

  Was it the sudden rise in the threat to the gates weighing on him? Or something else that plagued him?

  With the mortal beside him, Cal felt a little brave. Keras wouldn’t dare attack him in front of her. At least he didn’t think his brother would.

  He casually said, “Seen Enyo recently? She’d love this crazy shit we’re in.”

  Darkness obliterated the green in Keras’s irises.

  And then he was gone.

  Black smoke swirled where his brother had been, wafting in the breeze caused by the haste of his teleport.

  He had touched a nerve. Marek and Ares were right about their big brother. Something was up, and like the others, he had the feeling it was all about a certain goddess of war.

  Thunder pealed overhead and rain hit him in a torrent, making it hard to see a few feet in front of his face.

  It had been clear a moment ago.

  Something was definitely up.

  The woman beside him shivered as the rain pelted her, washing away some of the blood as it soaked her to the bone. And him.