Ari placed a hand on Straton’s waist. He knew the warrior despised being touched, so he did it just to fuck with him, getting so personal and all. “Careful, like I said. Or I just might use this new demigod’s power of mine”—he slid his hand a few inches inward, jabbing the center of Straton’s stomach with his forefinger—“to fry your shriveled old unmentionables right off.”
They eyeballed each other for at least ten more seconds; then Straton finally moved to the right. Ari gave the other warrior a shove with his shoulder as he passed, cursing all the way to Leonidas’s study.
So what if he’d just managed to win a pissing match with the shortest, coldest, and most ruthless member of their cadre. That was small-time stuff compared to the battle that awaited him in Leo’s study—a skirmish that would determine Juliana’s fate. And if those words he’d heard during his dream vision had been correct . . .
Then she was his Jules. And if so, it was going to be a serious issue if the Oracle didn’t vouch for her. What would he do then? Take Juliana on some road trip right out of a Tim Burton movie? Marry his sophisticated, beautiful corpse bride?
Nah, nothing about her looked freaky or morbid. She appeared, as a matter of fact, exactly as his sweet Jules always had, which begged a totally new question, one he hadn’t dared entertain throughout the evening’s chaos.
What exactly was he supposed to do with a Victorian-era socialite who’d chased him right out of her grave in Bonaventure Cemetery?
Chapter 12
“About time you came glowering in here, Aristos,” Daphne said, smiling despite the Spartan’s dour expression.
The warrior glanced about Leo’s library, clearly searching for Juliana. Daphne walked toward the big man, extending both hands. She’d managed to conjure her usual Goth garb for the meeting, not wanting any of them to know that she’d been in Leonidas’s chambers when he “summoned her.”
She’d excused herself to his bathroom and, in a whirling flash, discarded her Olympian gown in favor of a leather mini and thigh-high boots. Her hair was spiky and short again, streaked with the cobalt blue she knew Leo adored. Of course, he seemed to treasure her in whatever form she came to him, whether that be a golden gown or plain street clothes. He loved her, a fact that should have brought comfort but only created more anguish in her heart.
As she’d emerged from the bathroom, he’d given her a wistful smile, brown eyes filled with longing. “I’d rather hoped to spend all evening with you.”
She’d tried to appear stoic. “We will always have our duties, my king. I see no way around that fact.”
“At times,” he’d answered just as stoically, “I wish to be an ordinary man.”
They’d fallen silent then, having already bared their hearts and souls. And, really, what more could be said when they had no future together? They’d walked to his study like true warriors, shoulder to shoulder and resolved. Ajax had entered with the young woman, explaining Juliana’s history until Ari had interrupted by storming into the room.
“Have you prophesied yet?” Ari asked as Daphne gathered his hands in her own.
She gave him a reassuring squeeze. “No need to worry.” She smiled up at him, noting the anxiety in his eyes. “Ajax already told me all about it. All about it.” She winked at him, but Ari never noticed. He was too busy glaring at his brother.
“What’d you say, huh?” Ari pointed an accusing finger at Jax.
Ajax shrugged innocently. “The facts are always helpful when asking for our Oracle’s time.”
Juliana’s auburn eyebrows quirked together. “Oracle? As in . . . Delphi?”
Daphne bobbed her head. “I’m a . . .” She sought for the best way to put it, not sure exactly how much Juliana knew about their unusual group. “Daughter!” she finished brightly. “Like Shay and Emma and Sophie.”
Juliana smiled in obvious understanding. “Like me. I’m a Daughter, as well.”
Daphne smiled in return. “Exactly. My particular gift is hearing the words of the Highest God. He guides these . . . uh . . . men through me.”
Ari cleared his throat. “So, not to rush you or anything, my lady, but how’s this gonna go down? I’m . . . well, I want to know if you think she’s the real deal or not.”
“Eager, are you?” Daphne teased, recalling Ajax’s description of Ari’s intense resistance to Juliana.
Ari glanced away, looking sheepish. “I need to know who she is.”
“Oh, but I believe you already do know.” Daphne settled into one of the chairs facing Leo’s desk. “Still, expediency is a good plan.”
“You’re ready?” Leo asked gently, facing her. He, more than any of the Spartans, realized the great toll her prophesying always demanded, both physically and emotionally. By positioning himself so close, he was offering his own protection and strength.
She smiled at him gratefully, closing her eyes. “I shall begin.”
At once, a great force began pulling at her, dragging her under as if she’d been caught beneath a massive wave. She felt herself tumbling, falling into a whirlwind, and rose into it, standing tall and reaching out her arms.
Suspended before her, she could see golden, shimmering words. With both hands, she outlined the letters, true joy filling her being.
“Juliana Tiades lives again,” she said, speaking the words beneath her fingertips. “She is good, not evil. Her soul lives forever; her body lives anew.”
She swayed on her feet, feeling weaker, and then strong arms rescued her. Leonidas, my love, she thought, and the words she’d been touching were gone. She tried to open her eyes, leaning into the king, but that dragging darkness pulled her farther down.
Then a second prophecy materialized, a more threatening one, and the words gleamed like a banner all around her.
Slowly, she began translating the message. “The Daughters of Delphi must gather . . .”
Ari strode to the window of Leonidas’s study, bracing his hands against the dark wooden frame. Books towered to the ceiling, and he wished only to find some answer on those pages. Correction: an answer he liked.
“Aristos, the words come from the Highest himself, and He has verified that Juliana is, indeed, the woman you knew and loved,” the Oracle’s musical voice reminded him. He heard a smile in her tone.
Well, she might have thought she brought jolly, happy tidings of love, but he sure as hell didn’t feel that way. No, he didn’t feel like rejoicing at all.
The first part of their Oracle’s declaration validated Juliana. It was the second portion that had been his undoing, stealing away every bit of life that she’d just breathed back into him. In its place, he’d inhaled bone-deep fear. Fear that Shay, with her training as a Deadly Nightshade, would declare Juliana as inauthentic, a demon from the darkest pit.
And no emotion contradicted his Spartan training and discipline more than fear. Which was why he’d separated from the group after Daphne finished her pronouncements. She’d stared up at him expectantly, with that damned joyous little gleam in her elfin eyes, but he’d said nothing. Just walked to the window where he now stood so he could get his shaking body back under his own command.
He continued staring outside now, searching for some answer, some sign, but the storm clouds concealed the moon. He glimpsed nothing except the vaguest outline of the far fence and stables. Pattering rain streaked the dusty glass, the long, dry winds suddenly done. “This tropical storm might get ugly in the next few days,” he observed.
“It’s tracking off the coast, not hitting shore,” Leonidas told him. “But that’s not our concern right now. Our Oracle has spoken; have you no response for our lady?”
Ari dropped his head forward, ashamed. He caught the rebuke in the king’s words, and he’d earned it. Slowly he turned, facing the others. Leonidas leaned against the edge of his desk, watching him, the Oracle at his side. Juliana remained in the far corner, positioned against the bookshelves with a weary, resigned posture. She had to be exhausted by now.
&n
bsp; He gave her a rueful smile. I believe now. I know who you are. He did his level best to convey that with his eyes.
She stood taller in immediate reaction, as if energized by his show of faith.
The Oracle twisted a lock of cobalt blue hair around her finger, studying him. “Aristos Petrakos, for many years your younger brother was my only link with all of you. Only he could see or communicate with me—and he is a dear, beloved friend, but he’s never been easy.” She cast a smile toward his younger brother, who gave a light bow in return.
“And it seems,” she continued, facing him again, “that you aren’t making this moment easy, either. None of you Petrakos brothers are easy, I suppose. Well, except on the eyes, right?”
She waggled her brows conspiratorially toward Juliana. Then, as if remembering herself, she turned to their king with a wide-eyed, caught-in-the-act-of-ogling expression. “My apologies, sir,” she blurted, but Ari noticed that Leonidas hardly seemed mollified. In fact, he appeared . . . miffed.
The Old Man never got annoyed at their Oracle, not that Ari’d ever seen. She always seemed to have their commander wrapped about her pinky.
“So, anyhow,” she continued dramatically. “My point, Aristos, is that Juliana Tiades”—she walked toward the corner and, looping an arm through Juliana’s, led her forward—“is not a demon at all. She’s the woman you have always loved.”
Daphne smiled up at him, motioning him closer to Jules. “Go on! Take her hand. Show some affection, now!”
Ari smiled at Juliana, almost ready to reach for her. Then he froze, dropping his hand to his side.
“Aristos!” Daphne chastised sharply. “This is not the way to treat one’s lady love! You heard my prophecy; you know that the Highest God is blessing your relationship.”
“I heard the words.” He struggled to avoid Juliana’s stare. “But, Oracle, you are our guide. You have always ordered our steps with your words,” he argued, hating the way his heart hammered wildly, the trickle of sweat he felt along the side of his neck. “If you say she is legitimate, isn’t that enough?”
She gave him a kind, sympathetic smile. “In this instance, my own word is not enough. We must hear from Shay, Emma, and Sophie.”
He closed his eyes, the words stampeding through his mind all over again. Daphne had begun in a whisper, swaying back and forth on her booted feet. “The Daughters of Delphi must gather,” she’d proclaimed. But then she’d wavered physically, almost as if the words were too intense to be spoken. For a moment, he’d even thought she was going to faint, but Leonidas had been at her side instantly. She’d leaned into him, eyes closed, still caught in her trance.
“I have you, Oracle,” Leo had murmured reassuringly. “You are safe with me.”
The Oracle had released a high-pitched, eerie cry then, one that made the hair on Ari’s nape prickle. “The Daughters of Delphi will separate the wheat from the chaff, ordain the truth. Proclaim Juliana Tiades’ nature to be true,” she’d murmured in a disembodied voice. “Gather the Daughters. . . . Gather them tonight. In truth there is freedom from the curse of lies and uncertainty. The promise of eternity, of walking in light. The Daughters of Delphi must gather, must proclaim her innocence, and grant freedom . . . or destroy the evil.”
They were to declare her innocence or destroy her as a demon? Which one was it?
He’d practically shouted those questions, but then Daphne herself had returned, half collapsing against Leonidas. Leonidas had lifted a bowl of water to the Oracle’s lips, very gently.
“Our lady’s gift always takes such a toll on her,” Leonidas had explained, still holding the drink to her mouth.
“Not to be impolite, sir,” Juliana had asked quietly, “but why does your Oracle guide you in all things?”
Leo had turned to Ari in question then. “How much did you tell Juliana . . . before?”
Ari just shook his head. He’d willed their leader to hear his mind, transmitting one phrase: She knows nothing.
“No idea about what we are?” their king pressed.
Juliana shook her head, too, obviously frustrated. “Which, gentlemen, seems most unfair, as it appears that you’re trying to decide whether to allow me to stay, instead of . . . well, I don’t know what you do with demons, but I don’t imagine it’s very pleasant.”
Ari was thankful when nobody even tried to answer. He’d be the one to explain the facts to Jules—no matter which way this evaluation went down. Good gods, he thought, it was like some medieval virginity test, with Jules needing to prove the purity of her spirit and soul.
Juliana spoke after a long, awkward moment. “I told you I’m the one you loved. . . .” Slowly she lifted her eyes, looking at him. Into him, it felt like. “And the one who always loved you.”
As if he didn’t already feel like a total jerk for how he’d been treating her tonight.
“It’s not just on me to decide,” he explained lamely. “It affects a lot of people, and . . . yeah, this isn’t my call.”
“Quite obviously, sir.” She stood even taller, maintaining an air of dignity and grace.
He hated himself in that moment, that he hadn’t stepped up to the plate on her behalf from the get-go.
Her hair had come loose about her face, and those disheveled tendrils made her appear only more vulnerable. He reached and, very carefully, as gently as possible, began repinning the loose curls. His hand grazed her ear, and she shivered, turning so that her cheek brushed against his palm.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and moved his hand away, but she’d have none of that. She seized his big palm, pressing it right up against her face. Closing her eyes, she savored that connection, breathing deeply as if finally being offered water after an endless drought.
“No, no, Aristos. I want to feel you. I need to do so,” she said. “Until tonight I haven’t been touched by anyone in so many years, and certainly not by you.”
“How did you really find me? Come back to me?” That one question still nagged at him and couldn’t be denied. “You indicated earlier that you made some sort of arrangement with a spiritual guide.”
She glanced away, chewing on her lip. “I believe she was an angel. She wore glowing robes and was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Very kind. She had observed my many efforts and attempts at reaching you, the way I’ve hovered around the brownstone.”
“An angel,” he repeated, wondering why he’d not seen any such spiritual messengers outside her home earlier tonight. And thinking of all the times he’d prayed to the Highest God about his grief over losing Jules. Perhaps he had finally answered those supplications, which wasn’t so hard to believe, not with the spiritual battles of good and evil he’d engaged in over the millennia, and not when Ari knew firsthand that angels were real.
“This angel gave you physical form again?” he asked, his mind whirling with questions.
She gazed up into his eyes. “I’m not sure how she did it, or knew how to send me to your side, but one moment I was . . .” She stared at the floor and in a quiet voice said, “A ghost. I was a ghost just as I’ve been since my death, and then . . . she transformed me.” Jules lifted her hands, staring at her palms with wonder. “I was physical again, and then I was moving through this dark, whirling wind . . .” She hesitated, seeming to search for words. “More of a tunnel? I find it most difficult to describe, how the sensations felt.”
“She teleported you,” he explained, recognizing the process she sought to describe from firsthand experience, although with their Oracle and Ares, not an angel. “The angel sent you to my side.”
She nodded, amazement in her eyes. “First, there was the sensation of being alive again, right there, standing on the cobblestones! And next, the darkness folded away and I found myself in your bedroom.” A broad, radiant smile filled her face, her eyes growing bright with emotion. She took hold of his hand, squeezing it. “Aristos, I cannot tell you the joy I felt. My heart and soul triumphed, seeing you there in the bed, alive and
real and waiting for—”
He didn’t even let her finish; he reached out, folding her tightly within a bearlike embrace. Wanting to use his own brawny body as a shield against anything or anyone who might try to take her from him, ever again.
How she had died, why she’d drowned herself . . . There would be time to solve his questions. Later.
“I need you,” he murmured against the top of her head. “I . . . God, I’ve loved you all these years, just couldn’t stop, sweetheart.”
“I waited for you—and you finally came back to me.” Juliana buried her face against his chest, inhaling as if needing to verify for herself that he, too, was real and alive.
The rush of love and sensation he felt right then was so intense that for one delirious moment he actually forgot the second part of the prophecy. The one that indicated that Juliana would still need validation from the other Daughters.
Very slowly, he released her. “Look, we still need to hear from Shay and Emma and Sophie,” he said, but the words sounded halfhearted even to himself.
She blinked back at him, finally turning away. It was all he could do not to pull her back into his arms—to hold her until time itself melted away.
Because he did believe. With his whole heart, he was now convinced that Juliana Tiades stood only a few feet away from him. And that was the problem. Because she’d broken him once before, and now? Feeling her heart beating against his chest, smelling that familiar aroma that belonged uniquely to her? He was falling for her all over again, and hard, because he’d never once stopped loving her. “Yeah . . . ,” he said lamely. “Just need to hear what the Daughters all say.”
Juliana inclined her head. “Of course, Aristos. I understand,” she said, but her blue eyes became very sad, as if she’d sensed the true reason for his hesitation.
Daphne folded both arms over her chest and gave him the feminine once-over. Nothing like being sized up—and snickered at, albeit sweetly—by the Oracle of Delphi.
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