by Addison Fox
“Maybe they’re hurt.”
“Then where are the bodies?”
“But—” She broke off, her gaze brightening. “You think no one was hurt.”
“I certainly hope so. But the more I evaluate it, I think I’m right. Gabe will need to confirm.” Rafe dragged out his phone, not surprised when there wasn’t anything from his brother. “Nor has he contacted me, which adds further support to my theory. No one saw it but us.”
“So if no one else saw it, then what happened back there?”
“I don’t know.” Rafe hesitated for the briefest moment before he made his decision. He made a vow—his entire family had—but Evangeline had a right to know. Her life now depended on it. “But I have an idea why it happened. I think it’s connected to you and me.”
“Me?”
“What do you know about your parents?”
* * *
Her parents?
Rafe’s question hung there, in the middle of the thick, wet air of the greenhouse. What could her parents possibly have to do with weird winds and a crazy fire that kept consuming people with no discernable trace of damage?
“What are you?”
She’d asked the question a myriad of ways, but she wasn’t waiting any longer for an answer. If they were both involved in this—whatever this was—she had a right to know.
That mercurial gray of his eyes seemed to change before her, even as his gaze remained steady on hers. From a cloudy storm gray to an almost gunmetal blue until finally morphing to an electric silver that sent heat winging through her veins.
Nearly as inopportune as that wash of heat she’d felt near the inappropriately placed statues.
What sort of spell did he have her under?
Whatever she imagined, it was nothing compared to the deep breath and mysterious words that fell from his lips. “I am Helios.”
“Heel-y what?”
“Helios.”
“What is that? Are you a man? And if you’re not, what are you?” Although her words were not intentionally designed to be hurtful, she didn’t miss the quick flash of embarrassment in his eyes at that question before he waved a hand.
“I am very much a man.”
A weird, achy relief slammed her in the chest with nearly as much force as the hallway tornado. How odd that relief could provide as strong an assault as an F5. “If you’re a man, then what is a Helios?”
“I’m a descendant of the Greek god of the sun, Helios, who drives his chariot each day, bringing light to the world.”
Vague memories of high school English did battle with the words Rafe spoke. She remembered mythology—had enjoyed it even—but never had she believed it to be anything more than stories designed to explain lack of modern human understanding.
Was Rafe possibly for real? And did he honestly believe what he was saying?
Even as she thought it, she had to admit the fire had been real. Two nights ago she’d seen a man in flames and just now, she’d seen the same phenomenon.
“Do you worship him? Like a cult?”
“Not exactly.”
“So what would you call your attachment to him?”
“Mythology would call what I am a phoenix. In my family, we prefer the more historically accurate depiction as I explained it. We are descendants of Helios and we carry his gifts within our life essence.”
Phoenix? No freaking way. She’d seen Harry Potter and had even read beyond the Greeks when it came to mythology of ancient cultures. But he couldn’t possibly be serious.
Even if it did give some explanation to a fire that burned, yet didn’t consume.
“But phoenixes are birds.”
“In some cultures, that’s the accepted mythology.”
“Yet you’re a man.”
A wry smile painted his lips and it took her a moment to register the steps he took to narrow the gap between them. “You seem rather hung up on that aspect. Would you care for a demonstration?”
Need—raw and primal—rose up in answer to Rafe’s question and she quickly back-stepped, slamming her hip into the long worktable that dominated the center of the greenhouse. A hard oof escaped her lips before she tumbled over herself. His strong hands reached out, steadying her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You haven’t been truthful with me.”
“I don’t have a right to protect myself? My family? You know the world we live in. The danger of being different. You’d begrudge me my privacy and my right to live free of public scrutiny?”
His arguments were so simple and, if she were honest, more than fair. She knew what it was to be different. To be seen as the outcast wherever she went. That was simply based on her lack of parents. But to be...other. It not only went against the grain, but it caused irrational fear.
And with fear came violence. Pain and suffering. And the dark agony of force and aggression.
She knew fear. Knew what it did to a person—to how they saw the world and how they saw the people around them. Her parents had lived in fear and had transferred that panic to her. She’d spent her childhood locked in a nightmare of abuse and neglect, unable to see there was any other way of living.
Her father had seen to that and her mother had been dragged along in his wake.
The hazy images that usually accompanied thoughts of them faded, Rafe’s earlier comments flaring front and center. “What of my parents? What do they have to do with this?”
“Your father was a Hunter.”
“My father?” She shook her head, the sad reality of Hank Kennedy’s life something she’d accepted long ago. “My father was a drug addict and a criminal. If he’d hunted anything, it was his next fix.”
“No, you misunderstand. Your father was a Hunter. The souls who seek my people for the god Chaos. Hunters are the sworn enemy of all Helios.”
“You’re not making any sense. My father wasn’t part of anything. The man could barely keep his family together. You think he was some sort of member of a secret army?”
“That’s exactly what he was.”
“It’s not possible.”
“It’s entirely possible. Your father has been on a list of known enemies for a long time. I put it together after you started here.”
Cold fingers scraped over her spine, plucking each vertebra like piano keys. “You looked into my background?”
Once again, those enigmatic eyes flashed; only this time, she was unable to read the specifics. She didn’t miss the cool tone of his voice. “A background check is normal on our employees. Your job application stated as much.”
“My father died when I was six. My mother a year later. That shouldn’t show up in any standard credit check.”
“We do more than run credit checks on our employees. Especially when a familiar name pings in our database.”
Those cold fingers squeezed, their grip brutal. “You knew? I’ve been here nearly a year and you knew this whole time? Have you been watching me or something?”
“Keeping tabs, yes. I had a right to keep my home and my people safe.”
“And what about my rights? My privacy. My family. My everything.”
* * *
The god of Chaos leaned against the bars of his prison and fought to maintain his strength. His vision blurred but the scene he’d seen through the eyes of one of his minions was still a crystal clear memory.
A casino.
Full of hordes of imbeciles so wrapped up in their stupid games and their vacations and their pathetic lives they had no idea the power that shimmered in the air around them. He’d channeled his power through one of his weaker Hunters and set his will against Stavros and the woman.
Woman? What rubbish. Evangeline Kennedy was a child. Worse, she was a descendant who had no idea or understand
ing of the forces that had made her. Shaped her. Created her.
She understood none of it, content to while away her time planting flowers and trees, tending to them like a busy little bee who never settled or rested.
What a waste.
Her father had been a waste of skin, but he’d served his purpose. When he wasn’t strung out, the man was a true zealot, committed to the cause of taking down the descendants of Helios. Those pristine chosen ones, who instead of taking their rightful place in the Pantheon had elected to live amid the riffraff of human souls.
It angered him, that abdication of power.
And now he had to contend with Evangeline, as well.
Their subtle attempts through the years to recruit her had all been for naught. His Hunters were born but their retention of free will ensured they made the choice to become one of his followers. The occasional boyfriend who campaigned for her attention was summarily brushed off, unable to sway her. Potential friends, impressed into service to lure her to a new way of thinking, ultimately dropped. Even her previous employer hadn’t been effective in destroying her spirit—she simply took on more until she’d been successful in finding employ at the Archangel.
Damon Frost had been completely ineffective in swaying her way of thinking, his attempts at drawing her into a relationship ineffective. He’d now exact a price, but even punishment—while allaying a small measure of his anger—couldn’t fix what was now set in motion.
Troy and Victor hadn’t helped, either. Frost’s bumbling henchmen had been ineffective from the start. The trouble with minions was that their lack of motivation worked in two ways. They were easily swayed to the cause, but not easily persuaded to do the required work.
A flaw he’d found far too many humans possessed in abundance.
But not Evangeline.
She’d been impressive. The wind was a particular favorite of his, the sensory overload on the recipient a thing of beauty to watch. Yet she’d stood firm.
Oh, what he could do with her. Even Frost wasn’t talented enough to compare to the bright, agile mind and lithe form of Evangeline Kennedy. He need only find a way to channel it properly.
Of course...
The thought flared to life in his mind, simple. Elegant.
Perfect.
Stavros had led her wrong from the beginning. And despite their ability to work together in the hallway, there was no way she trusted him. Nor did Rafe trust her.
And he could use that.
He did a quick evaluation of his crew, mentally selecting who he might send in as an initial line of attack. Keeping Rafe and his brother off guard would be necessary, now that he’d tipped his hand to Stavros that he could find his way inside the precious halls of Stavros’s domain.
He didn’t have much time.
Of course, neither did Rafael Stavros.
* * *
Evangeline walked the length of the worktable and back, her hand trailing over the dirt-stained top. She’d been in here steadily for the past week, repotting endless sets of poinsettias for the holiday installation. She knew this room. Knew the worktable and the tools arrayed at each end. Hell, she could even point out where her own tools had left scratches over the past year.
So why did all of it look so different now?
The room that had provided comfort, emotional shelter and a gloriously open work space suddenly felt stifling and much, much too small.
Because he was here.
A phoenix? No, she amended herself. A Helios. A direct descendant of the sun god of Greek mythology.
Those thoughts layered over and over in her mind, at times screaming the news, at other times quiet. But always there.
Her new reality, bound up in a world she didn’t understand. Worse, it was a new reality that included her parents.
“My father died of a drug deal gone bad.”
Rafe glanced up from his phone. He’d already spoken to Gabe and had tapped away at the smooth face ever since. “Yes.”
“So that’s true, then? He did die that way.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“If that is the case, how could he be some messenger of evil? The man I remember was deeply broken. An addict who couldn’t stay away long enough from his next fix.”
“Then he fit the bill perfectly.” Rafe pocketed the phone, his steps purposeful as he came around the worktable. “I’m sorry to tell you that he was a tool. A blunt instrument for Chaos to do its work.”
“Chaos? You said that before, like it’s a person.”
“That’s where Hunters come from. They’re a creation of the god of Chaos. A counterforce to the power Chaos believes my people were imbued with.”
“But you are powerful.”
“Yes.” Rafe nodded. “In many ways we are. But not in the ways that typically matter to a god. I’m not immortal. I don’t take up arms in battle unless directly threatened. I’m not even enmeshed in Pantheon politics. My people have chosen to coexist quietly among humans, living our lives.”
“You’re serious about this.”
“Of course I am.”
Just like her questions earlier, probing if he really was a man, she sensed something beneath his response. Sadness? Embarrassment? She tried both on but neither fully fit.
“Do my questions bother you?”
“No.” His response was fast and clipped and she knew it for the lie that it was. It was only when Rafe exhaled a deep breath and moved a few steps closer that she took a deep breath of her own. “Yes, on some level, your questions do bother me.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Yesterday you were kissing me and today you’re afraid of me. Worse, you think me some sort of freak.”
“I don’t—”
“I’m a man, Evangeline. My blood runs red and I have needs like any other. I eat. I sleep. I make love. All of it as necessary to my life as anyone else’s.”
The words ripped from him, as if cleaved out of a large block of ice. She wanted to be immune—wanted to believe it was simply for show—yet something primal responded to what she heard beneath his words.
Loneliness.
She knew the emotion—had lived with it daily for her entire life. And she understood what it was to be “other.”
“You have your family.”
“Yes, all as isolated as I am. Do you know what it is to be hunted for what you are? To be ever on your guard, focused on protecting what is yours? We’re a closed people and we don’t let many in. Few even know we exist.”
The life he spoke of was hard to understand. For all the opulence on the surface, that never-ending wariness had to be exhausting.
“And you’re not immortal?”
“No. Helios live exceptionally long lives and we’re generally free of pain and disease, but we aren’t immortal. Just as each day must end with Helios’s chariot descending across the sky, so do our lives.”
The formality in his tone intrigued her. “You speak of him with reverence.”
“He’s the source of my power. My life. The fire that burns inside of me comes from him.”
“Which means it was you? On the grounds the other night?”
Rafe remained silent for long moments, his focus somewhere else. “That was a mistake. I don’t normally Rejuvenate in front of others. Nor do I lose control in public.”
“Are you ill?” The idea that something was wrong with him stabbed at her, filling her with a dread she’d not have thought herself capable of even hours earlier.
“I don’t think so.”
She might have been inclined to believe him if he hadn’t hedged. The response was a surprise, especially from a man who always seemed so in control of his surroundings. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“This typ
ically happens at each solstice and each equinox.”
Evangeline did some quick math, well aware of the earth’s cycles around the sun and its impact on her work. “And the winter solstice is still more than three weeks away.”
“The timing varies slightly, but my entire adult life, I’ve regenerated near those windows. From the first, really.”
“From the first what?”
“The act of Rejuvenation doesn’t happen prior to puberty. Helios must be fully adult before their body regenerates.”
Clearly Mother Nature had as much of a sense of humor with supernaturals—was that what she should call him?—as with any other human. Puberty was hard enough but at least she’d made it through without bursting into flame. She was nearly two decades past it and she could still remember the seemingly endless tears followed by near-manic melancholy that had ushered her fully into adulthood.
What did intrigue her was Rafe’s comment about “from the first.” “You’ve had that famous Rafe Stavros control from the beginning. Interesting.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re known for it. That stony face and stiff back. You’re sort of a tight ass, truth be told.”
“I’m a what?”
She couldn’t hold back the smile at the flush that crept up his neck. “It’s a compliment.”
“Hardly.”
“It sort of is. The entire staff is afraid of you. It’s one of the reasons I had no problem firing Troy and Victor. They were a bit more vocal than others about how the Archangel is run. I figured we were well rid of them.”
“A move more intuitive than you think.”
“I don’t need slackers on my team. Add on a bad attitude and bad-mouthing the boss, and it’s not something you can fix.”
“Evangeline—”
“The way they spoke to me.” Even now, the memories of their attitude and their parting shots—the “bitch boss” slur, along with mocking her compulsive need to plant flowers—still stung.
“Evangeline.” Rafe finally broke through her thoughts. “They’re Hunters. Both of them. You did more by firing them than simply removing poor performers. You saved us from a far darker threat.”
