by Laura Kaye
Cockroaches poured over his hand and up his arm. Devlin heaved the box across the room. It exploded in a shower of splinters against the stone wall. He beat and swiped at his arm and chest to knock the bugs off, and then stomped on them. Even when he thought they were all gone, his flesh crawled at the imagined sensation of their movement on his skin.
“Sonofabitch,” he muttered. Just his father’s kind of humor.
Blowing out a breath and scowling, Devlin reached for a long, thin hammered-bronze box that had the words “The Sun Rises in the East” etched in the top. Devlin shook his head. Tell us what you really think of yourself, Eurus. This lock was so dainty that Devlin was able to break it off.
Brilliant, blinding sunlight poured out of the box and burned Devlin’s retinas. The intensity was so stunning, Devlin dropped the box, sending the light in a spin to the floor that created a dizzying strobe-light effect. Grasping the back of the chair for support, Devlin stepped down and then dropped to his knees. He used one hand to shield his eyes from the overpowering solar rays radiating from inside the bronze and the other to feel across the floor. Everywhere the light touched bare skin stung as if he’d been sunburned. His eyes wouldn’t stop watering. Finally, he found the box and slammed the lid closed.
Nausea swamped Devlin as sunspots swam over his vision. He looked up at the boxes but his eyes’ ability to focus was completely shot, and the effort to do so intensified their burning and gave him a bad case of vertigo.
He didn’t have time to sit here until the effects wore off. Forcing himself up again, he selected a navy-blue box painted with the sun and stars. The lock on this one was woven out of some sort of thick twine. He couldn’t break it with his hands no matter how hard he pulled, so he finally burned through the tangled heap of it and yanked it free.
Boom!
The sound was the first thing to hit him. Then the explosive’s blast wave. Then he was flying across the room and slamming against the stone floor on the other side of the office.
Devlin coughed and rolled to his side, momentarily unsure what the hell had just happened. Dazed and half blind, he pushed himself into a sitting position. Damn it all to Hades, how much more of this could he take?
You find the key, you find the key, he repeated to himself. So get up and do it.
He staggered across the room, head and back screaming, and was surprised to find that the chair, the desk, even the bookshelf were exactly as they’d been. Apparently the box’s explosion had affected only its opener. With a groan, he climbed back on the chair. The next box was another dud. The one after that spewed vines that tried to bind his hands. And the one after that unleashed a bright-red poisonous snake that divided into two when he chopped it in half with a piece of the broken silver box. He’d fried them with his powers, accidentally setting the desk on fire. Devlin gleefully unleashed the rain to douse it, not caring about the damage.
Choking on the smoke, Devlin set his sights on a heavy iron box on the third shelf up.
The dark color made him wonder if it could be made out of infernal iron, which would be ironic since infernal iron could kill a god, yet the key protected the life of his energy in the lantern. That had his father written all over it. He melted the lock and pushed its molten remains free. Sweat poured off his face, and he wiped it away with the back of his arm as he braced for the next blow.
He lifted the lid.
The golden key sat nestled in a fold of golden velvet. Devlin blinked and squinted, half convinced his blurry vision was playing tricks on him. He pulled the key free. The metal was cool and heavy in his fingers, and totally real.
Time to fly.
Across the study, down the stairs, and into the ceremonial hall.
Farren’s screams and blood remained, and Devlin stopped long enough to offer a last promise of vengeance. Snick, snick, bang. Something smacked Devlin on the shoulder. He looked up and found the ceiling vibrating and pieces of the stone and tile raining down.
Devlin bolted across the compass rose as bigger and more deadly pieces started to fall. And then the ceremonial hall itself started spinning like a top. It was as if the building was mad at Devlin’s success at finding the key. The movement stirred up wind that blew Devlin’s sweaty hair into his eyes. The gravitational force turned the debris into projectiles that Devlin couldn’t always successfully dodge. With the walls and floor spinning in opposite directions, Devlin lost sight of the exit.
Between his stinging eyes and the speed of the room’s movement, Devlin didn’t have a prayer of finding a way out. He had one recourse—he shifted into his elemental form and took his chances with his father’s enchantments. He shot toward the exit and had just cleared the doorway into the wide foyer beyond when something with the power of a hammer crashed against his skull and forced him into his corporeal form. When Devlin looked over his shoulder, nothing was there.
He slammed to the floor, cradling his head. The key! His hand flew to his pocket…and relief flooded through him to find it still there.
Ignoring the pain and disorientation, Devlin got his ass off the floor and ran. And it was a good thing, because the ceilings caved in above him as he went. He dodged right and left, shifted in and out of the wind, and backtracked again and again as walls shifted and staircases collapsed right in front of him.
He had to get out of here before the whole place came down.
Regret flashed through him as he thought of Alastor, but Devlin didn’t have a prayer of rescuing him until he put this key to use and became master of the East. Still, while he was so close, he had to let his brother know he’d be back.
Alastor? Alastor, can you hear me?
Devlin backtracked through the building, heading for one of his escape hatches.
Dev…?
Soul-deep relief pushed every other sensation away. Oh, thank gods. I’m here—
Don’t, Alastor said, the word so faint Devlin was certain he’d heard incorrectly. It’s…a trap…and I…bait.
Just like he’d thought. I hate to leave you, brother, but I’ll be back. Devlin felt the vow to the depths of his soul. Once he’d taken their father down, he’d free Alastor or die trying.
Nothing.
Alastor?
When there was no response again, Devlin tried like hell not to let his imagination run away with what that could mean. Sadness and anger washed through Devlin, but the building didn’t give him the chance to wallow. Massive bolts of lightning exploded across the hallways in front of him. Devlin reared back at the last second, putting him in the path of the collapsing ceiling. He just whipped between the falling rock before it closed him in.
Doing a double take, he realized the building’s destructiveness had forced him near one of his emergency holes. Devlin made a break for it, shooting down a long hall, and whooshing through just as the ceiling collapsed above him.
He flew outside into a massive lightning storm. The sky had gone pitch black. Bolts of electricity speared down at him. He weaved through them, feeling their searing heat against his essence, until he arrived back at the monstrous tornadoes.
The Anemoi weren’t there, and Devlin hoped they’d gotten away safely. But that also meant he was going to have to figure out how to deal with these storms on his own.
He really only had one resource at his disposal.
Hearing Anna’s encouragements in his head, he called on his infernal powers and built a massive fireball. Feeling as if he were shaking apart with the effort, he shot it into the center of the closest tornado. A massive explosion, and then a blast wave sent him head over ass. But when he looked back again, the funnel was breaking apart, the debris that had been whipped around inside it falling from the sky and raining down to the ground.
Again and again, he projected the preternatural bombs across the sky and took the tornadoes down one by one.
By comparison, making it through the electrical cloud again was a piece of cake.
Victory surged through him as he met clear sky again
, the boundary to the Eastern Realm coming closer and closer.
And then his hope smashed to pieces.
There, ahead of him, just this side of freedom, were his Anemoi brethren. Except they weren’t alone. Black figures tore this way and that through the sky as the Anemoi attempted to defend themselves and pick off their enemies one by one. He surged forward into the fray, ready to fight, ready to die.
…
Keres. Female daimons who fed on the blood of the dying and weren’t averse to helping a warrior along the path to death to get what they wanted. With gnashing teeth and vicious claws, the black-cloaked wraiths whipped through the air, attacking, slashing, and grasping for the deaths of the Anemoi.
Devlin flew into the chaos and called on his powers to take them out. As he projected balls of fire toward them, they exploded in a horrific spray of blood and gore. Devlin flew and dodged and maneuvered for good firing positions to pick them off as he could, but there were so fucking many of them his kills didn’t seem to make an appreciable difference. And his power was getting hard and harder to call forth.
Where the hell did they come from? Devlin shouted to whoever could answer.
Someone else is commanding them! Zephyros responded as he whizzed by, two daimons on his tail. There’s another presence here, but we sensed it too late, and then the Keres were on us.
The fight went on and on, with Devlin’s fire, Aeolus’s lightning, and Chrysander’s infernal dagger making the most impact against the Keres. Since Owen apparently wore Laney’s amulet made of protective infernal iron, that left Zephyros as the most vulnerable to Keres’ attacks.
Working together, they picked the Keres off slowly but surely, the sky dark with their blood and alive with the wind the great battle whipped up. Owen and Zephyros would lure a Keres into an open bit of sky and allow one of the three of them to swoop in behind and take the daimon out. But Devlin wasn’t sure how many more swipes of claws or splashes of acidic daimonic blood Zephyros could take. Already he flew slower, banked less gracefully, and dodged as if his instincts had become dulled.
But they were making progress. A strong chance existed that they could defeat the Keres. A great hulking shape flew past Devlin, divine energy pouring off of it. Whatever you felt before is here! Devlin yelled.
Christ, what is that? Chrysander asked as he sliced into another Keres with the dagger.
A scream pierced through the chaos of the embattled sky.
Devlin whipped around to find a huge black-cloaked being holding Aeolus aloft in his physical form. A wide hood covered the being’s face and he held a long staff with a curved blade on one end.
Across the wide blue sky, Devlin’s gaze locked with Aeolus’s. His grandfather looked at him with kindness, affection, and resolution, then he said, “Thanatos.”
One beat of confusion, then another, before realization set in. Thanatos. The god of death was said to revel in the taking of life, both among men and gods. One of the sons of Erebus—which made him…gods be damned…Anna’s half brother.
The death god reared back with his scythe and buried the blade in Aeolus’s chest. Devlin was so shocked he felt a sympathetic echo of pain in his own heart. Blood spilled from the storm god’s mouth. And then Thanatos discarded Aeolus as if he were so much garbage, and the god’s body dropped into a free fall.
No! Zephyros yelled, charging across the space.
Grief splintered Devlin’s soul, but he didn’t have time to give in to the emotion. Devlin charged forward and intercepted Zeph, crashing into him so hard that thunder exploded across the sky. Get Aeolus before a daimon does. You are his most obvious successor. You must receive his essence before he is gone for good. Without waiting for a response, Devlin threw the Western god in the direction of Aeolus’s falling body. Chrys, Owen, help Zephyros recover Aeolus!
The gods took off in pursuit, fighting Keres where they had to. The wind moaned with their collective grief.
Devlin shot across the sky at Thanatos. If he survived—if they all survived—it was going to be thanks to Annalise. Of all people. The death god raised his scythe, ready to attack again.
Devlin hoped his gamble paid off. He needed to act fearless to sell what he was about to say—as if he really were allied with the primordial god of darkness. Do you make it a practice to attack those allied with your own father, Thanatos? Do not even Erebus and his other offspring warrant your respect?
Thanatos’s grip on the staff faltered and he lowered it just enough that Devlin knew the words had hit home. What is this nonsense you say? His words echoed across the space between them.
I am betrothed to a daughter of Erebus, begotten upon the rainbow goddess and messenger of the gods, Iris. Now he and Anna were even for telling that little lie. But if Devlin survived this madness, maybe, just maybe she would let him make both of their declarations honest. She is ancient and powerful, Thanatos, and only until recently was lost among the humans. Now she is found. And she is mine. And you are attacking her brethren—for what purpose?
As Devlin whipped around him, Thanatos followed the trajectory of his flight. I was hired by the Supreme God of the East Wind to guard his realm, he called.
At what price? Devlin asked. Silence. At what price? he roared, throwing a great ball of fire at the death god.
Thanatos’s robe burst into flames, revealing a being made entirely of bones beneath. And then the robe regenerated, as if nothing had happened. My reward was to be the spirits of all the Anemoi, but I…I knew not of any association between my family and the gods of the Anemoi. His tone was less haughty, more subdued now.
Shoving down his grief, Devlin circled around to stand in front of Thanatos and returned to corporeality—a show of fearlessness and confidence he needed to convince the death god that what he said was true. “Of course not. Eurus kept that from you, didn’t he? As ancient as you yourself are, you must know my father’s reputation. Did you really think he’d make good on his promises?”
Hope rose up within Devlin that Thanatos would worry just enough to back off. Had the Anemoi rescued Aeolus yet? How much more time did he need to buy them?
“Your lack of answer speaks for you. Now call off the Keres. If you cooperate from here, I will consider not reporting your trespass against us to your primordial father.”
Thanatos raised and lifted his staff twice as if banging the bottom of it on the ground, though only sky surrounded him. But the movement apparently made some noise that Devlin didn’t hear, because a half dozen or more Keres whipped passed them in retreat. I will verify what you say, Devlin of the East. If you have lied to me, you will be the first I consume.
“Then I have nothing to worry about,” Devlin said.
Thanatos turned, then asked over his shoulder. Where is this goddess-sister now? I should like to meet her.
Devlin debated, but it would only take the tap of his staff to recall the Keres and renew the battle. With Aeolus injured—or worse—and Zephyros badly drained from the fight, Devlin wasn’t sure how much more they could take. So he went with the truth. “She is at Aeolus’s compound.”
Thanatos whirled around in a great cloud of black. Aeolus’s? By the gods, we must go now! I must call them off!
Icy dread slithered through Devlin’s psyche as the Anemoi approached in their physical forms with Zephyros carrying Aeolus’s limp body. “Call who off?” Devlin bit out.
The rest of the Keres. Knowing all of you were here, I sent half of them there. They are attacking the storm god’s realm as we speak.
…
Sitting on the couch in this beautiful, full-color living room, Anna was slowly going crazy. Hours had passed since Devlin and the other Anemoi had left for the Eastern Realm and they still hadn’t returned. What if Devlin had been hurt? Having just found him, her heart would never recover if she lost him so soon. Because the time they’d so far had together in no way equated to the depth of feeling she had for him. Anna loved him so deeply he’d become a part of her.
“Let’s get a snack,” Ella said out of nowhere as she rose from the couch.
“I’m not really hungry,” Megan said, holding a sleeping toddler in her arms.
“You should still eat, though,” Megan’s friend Tabitha said. Probably in her late thirties or early forties, Tabitha had dark-blond curls and a warm, full laugh, and it was clear from the way she fussed over them how much she cared for Megan and her son.
Laney stood up. “I’m not hungry either, but it would give us something to do. Let’s go make a big dinner for when the guys get home.”
“Yeah,” Ella said, rounding the back of the couch. “I like that idea even better.”
Anna smiled as she got up, too, appreciating the opportunity to think of something beside her worry. “Devlin is always hungry, so I know he’ll want to eat.”
“Oh my God,” Laney said, laughing. “I bet his appetite isn’t as big as Chrys’s.”
“Help me with Teddy?” Megan asked Tabitha. She handed the boy off and heaved herself to her feet. “Laney, honey. No one eats as much as Chrysander. Trust me. He’d come visit for the weekend and there wouldn’t be a speck of food left in the house that wasn’t frozen. And that was only because it was too cold for him to eat.”
Everyone laughed, and Anna loved this feeling of being a part of a group of friends, of a family, of something bigger than just herself. She had her dad, of course, and she never discounted that, but most of the time he didn’t know who she was or what was going on in her life. These women knew exactly what Anna felt in this moment, because they felt it, too.
Suppressed fear. Guarded hope. Constant longing.
Seth stepped into the doorway, blocking them. “Wherever we go, we go as a group and we stay together,” he said. When everyone agreed, he nodded to Tisiphone.
“I’ll take up the rear,” she said in that clipped, quiet way she had. Laney had told Anna that Tisiphone was supposed to have snakes living under the scarf she wore, but she’d never seen them for herself. Anna wasn’t sure whether to be horrified or curious. Either way, she bet that would be cool to paint.
