Red Demon

by Deidre Knight

  “Eros is quite the role for you, I believe,” she teased, voice all throaty. “Let’s enact that scene very soon.”

  Fire chased down his spine at the seductive promise. His body, as ever, remained poised on the verge of reactions that he couldn’t seem to control. But then he caught her hand, halting her caress. “I have things to tell you,” he said, his words quiet.

  Oblivious to his turmoil, she smiled at him, sliding her arms about his neck. “I want to hear everything over dinner. About your life, about your friends—”

  “This is about my power. And not just about me being a protector or immortal.”

  He planted his palms on both her shoulders, and when her expression convinced him that he had her full attention, that she clearly perceived the gravity of the moment, he blurted out the truth.

  “I am a demigod,” he confessed. “I carry the power of Olympus itself in my veins.”

  Juliana braced herself against the wooden railing of the exterior deck, studying him. To her credit, she didn’t look like she was about to bolt, but she didn’t exactly seem pleased with him, either. “How, precisely, does one become a demigod?” she asked after a moment. “I thought they were born, not made.”

  “Not always.”

  “Not always,” she repeated, and he looked away.

  “That’s all you wish to say on the matter?” she said tartly. “You have no further explanation to help me understand what you, my beloved, are in your most core nature?”

  He sighed. “Look, Jules, it’s a really long story, but no, I haven’t always been like this.” He extended his forearms, and they rippled with silver, his hidden power flaunting itself against his will. “I was changed into a demigod, not born one.”

  She placed a hand on her hip. “Oh! Well, when did that happen, Aristos? This afternoon? Were you transformed as we made love? Such small details, I suppose, in the balance of coupling and sex and union.”

  “You’re mad now? This is when you finally freak? Wings were okay, immortality a snap!” He popped his fingers together. “Not even a bump in the road for you, baby. But this puts you over the edge?”

  “I’m not upset about what you are,” she assured him, becoming much gentler. “Rather that you didn’t tell me about this part of yourself. That you don’t seem to fully trust my love for you. Or realize that nothing could ever make my feelings for you waver.” She shook her head sadly, pain visible in her blue eyes. “Not even learning that you’re a god.”

  “For the love of Olympus, I’m not a god! I’m half of one!” He screamed so loud, it made his throat hurt. Then, centering his hands on her shoulders, he bent down until they were eye level. “I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry. But please, just tell me you’re not about to bolt on me now.”

  “Aristos, look at me. I’m standing right here,” she reassured him.

  He released his hold on her. “But you’ve got leaving in your eyes,” he said, and put his back to her. His own eyes had started to water, and he wasn’t about to let her see him turn into a complete and total pussy when she took off on her own.

  She followed him, and his whole body tensed as she leaned into him, nuzzling her cheek against his back. Now, that didn’t seem like the action of a woman about to break up with you. It was a whole lot more like an “I’m here for keeps, thick or thin, Olympus or Savannah”-type gesture. And it only made the tears in his eyes come faster. She wasn’t leaving, wasn’t running. Wasn’t dying on him. She was pressing a warm, solid, and very human body right up against his own.

  “I’m assuming that we are still in our own private place?” she asked softly.

  “Sorry, but I haven’t lifted my Herculean arms to reveal us just yet,” he answered in a restrained tone.

  She ran her palm up his chest, and his body burned anew. His nipples reacted as she brushed her fingertips back and forth. She wrapped her arms about his torso, squeezing him close. “Oh, my beautiful man. My feelings have not changed! Aristos, I was only a bit upset that . . . that you told me everything else this afternoon. And in turn, I accepted every part of you.” She took hold of his hips, forcing him to grudgingly turn and face her. He swiped the back of his hand over his damp eyes.

  She leaned up onto her booted toes, brushing at the wetness herself. “Can you tell me why you would ever imagine that I’d not accept this last thing, the one which seems to be the most important part of you?”

  His shoulders sagged. “It’s eating me alive, Jules. This power—it really, truly is. That’s why I lost control at the boutique; it’s why I was shaking and my eyes were silver. It wasn’t because of being an immortal or a hawk changeling or even a Spartan. It’s this godsdamned”—he held out both forearms, flexing them—“Olympian strength burning along inside of me, like acid, like lava, and I can’t ever rest or just settle down. I hate this stuff.” He patted the veins on his wrist. “But I didn’t have any other choice but to ingest it.” He held his arms out, watching silver chase all through his veins and arteries; it reminded him of flying over a city at night, the network of twinkling lights. It was like Ares’ fingerprint all over his body.

  “Why did he have to be so cruel? Wasn’t it enough that we were willing to dance to his battle songs? Follow his war drums for eternity? No. He had to do this.” Ari formed furious fists, watching the silver pool within his hands, then seep out like a waterfall.

  “How did he do it? When?”

  “He seeded this power into River, at the moment of his transformation. His idea of a big rollicking joke to give our slave a secret overdose of his own god’s strength. He planned to activate it, harness it . . . whatever; I don’t even know for sure. But he created River as his secret weapon in our midst.”

  Juliana rubbed her forehead. “I am most confused. River is not a slave.”

  “No, you’re right about that, although he once was,” he said in an anguished voice. “I took on River’s curse so he could live a mortal life with Emma. . . . This was the power he endured for thousands of years. I’m enslaved now . . . to this power.”

  She drew him into her arms and held him; she gave no words, no easy solutions. Just her warm, comforting, human body wrapped around his epic one. Something about that, well, it made him believe that maybe freedom could still be within his grasp.

  Chapter 27

  Nikos plopped down a big loaf of bread and jar of peanut butter in the middle of the kitchen table and sat down to make himself at least three sandwiches. He really was that hungry. All day until this moment? No appetite at all. He’d been too worried about Mason, about his state of mind, yet not comfortable with the idea of calling and checking on him. Not after the things they’d said last night.

  But with River and Emma’s report that he was all right, not having some cosmic meltdown, he felt like he could breathe again. He stacked six slices of bread on the plate, dipped the knife in the jar, and started spreading.

  “Six sandwiches, Nikos?” River asked with a grin, dropping into the chair beside him. “That hungry, huh?”

  Nikos lifted an eyebrow. “Mathematics never has been your strong suit, brother. This will be three sandwiches when I’m done.”

  “Not if I swipe one of them from you first.” River laughed, reaching toward the sandwich Nikos was almost done making.

  He elbowed the guy away. “Emma?” he called out across the kitchen. “Can you bring another plate over? Apparently I’ve got to feed your husband.”

  “See? Amazing,” River said, kicking back in the chair. “You can actually be nice to me when you put some effort into it.”

  It was meant as a joke, but Nik’s own smile faded, and try as he might, he couldn’t find one damn thing to say in return. He just quietly made his sandwich, studying the pattern the knife’s serrated edge made in the smooth peanut butter, looking anywhere but into his brother’s green eyes.

  “Nikos,” River said after a minute, “I was just kidding around, okay?”

  Nik nodded, wishing as he always did th
at he could find a way to be closer to River. There was always a distance between them, the gulf that Nikos couldn’t find the courage to bridge by just telling River the truth about the secret connection they shared. He’d almost done it two months ago, right after that battle in Hades when he’d thought River was going to die. But he’d lost his nerve and backed down and hadn’t summoned it again since.

  Nikos decided the best thing, really, was to just change the subject. “Tell me more about Mason. You said he seemed settled, but . . . did he talk about Juliana anymore?”

  Emma joined them at the table, setting down two more plates. “He really was okay about it all,” she said right as Jamie came into the kitchen.

  “Hey, you guys seen Mason?” Jamie asked, then, seeing the sandwich spread, laughed. “Oh, fine dining tonight, is it? Regular filet mignon special.”

  Nik looked up, gesturing with his knife. “Hey. I happen to like peanut butter sandwiches. Way better than blood soup, let me tell you.”

  “We should’ve gone to the Crab Shack, too,” Emma said with a sigh, going to work on her own sandwich.

  “That’s where Ari and Juliana are,” River explained to the group of them. “They were heading out to Tybee, and Mason suggested it.”

  Jamie stopped in the middle of the kitchen, his expression deadly serious. “Wait; are you saying you told Mason where Ari and Juliana were going to be?”

  “Well, not exactly. Mason suggested that restaurant, though. Why?” Emma repeated, confusion in her eyes. “He was fine about everything.”

  Jamie sighed, shoulders slumping. “No. My brother ain’t fine, not even close. That’s why I came over here just now. ’Cause he isn’t answering his cell. This morning I got the total impression he’d never even gone to bed. Just sat there, studying the lore, trying to find some way to explain his theory about Juliana being a Djinn. But it’s more than that. Some of our weapons were gone. . . . He obviously took ’em, but normally we have a checkout procedure for all the Shades. He bypassed that altogether.”

  Nikos’s heart began hammering. “What kinds of weapons? His usual or something more . . . intense?” he asked, keeping his voice as calm and unrevealing as possible. Because he knew Jamie was dead right about Mace’s mental state; that was why he himself had worried about the man all day, after seeing firsthand how unhinged he’d been last night.

  “His Desert Eagle . . . his Glock. But, like I said, we have a policy among us, just to make sure we know where the weapons are at all times. He didn’t follow that . . . like maybe he hoped I wouldn’t notice? Only, I was specifically watching his ass, so yeah, I know he’s armed to the teeth.”

  Emma reached for Jamie’s hand, squeezing it. “Jamie, I promise you, Mason seemed all right. He didn’t say a word about Juliana or any of that.” Emma looked toward River with a searching expression. “Didn’t you think he seemed fine?”

  River thought a moment. “I didn’t really talk to him. I was on the phone with Ari most of that time, but yeah, I think he seemed like himself.”

  Jamie sank into the other open chair, raking both hands across his short hair. “That, my friends, is for one very good reason. My brother is a consummate actor. He’s had to be, after everything in Iraq . . . with his PTSD and the pain he’s been lugging around. He’s learned exactly what to tell us. How to behave to convince us all that he’s A-flipping-OK.” Suddenly Jamie looked at Nik—really looked at him. “Well, most of us, that is. Because I’m guessing that one of us,” he continued, his eyes laser locked with Nik’s, “has known the truth all along. That my brother’s in a shitload of pain.” Jamie kept on looking at Nikos, his eyes practically begging for help, or insight, and softly added, “Nik, please help my brother.”

  “I . . . I’m not sure I can,” he replied just as quietly, remembering how firmly Mason had shut him out. “I doubt he wants to hear from me right now.”

  “No, you’re wrong, Nik,” Jamie insisted, clasping Nikos’s shoulder. “He’s in trouble, and he needs you. Please . . . go after him. Before he hurts Ari or Juliana . . . or, most of all, himself.”

  Juliana now faced a most difficult quandary. It seemed that Layla should not, at all costs, learn about Ari’s power. Had the demon heard everything Juliana herself just had? Was she biding her time, waiting until the end of the nine days—almost eight, really—when she would have permanent, full control over Juliana’s body, and she could fulfill her terrible plan?

  Layla had threatened Ari’s life and well-being, but surely the demon didn’t understand his true power. Would she present a danger to a demigod? Could he be killed, or was it a different sort of immortality, one where any injury would instantly heal and death could never make a claim? Perhaps he would not be at risk from Layla’s efforts at all.

  Jules kept asking herself these questions, drumming her fingers on the table, feeling edgy and overly warm, which only reminded her of Layla’s existence inside her. She had no idea how to warn Ari, not with the threats Layla had issued—she couldn’t turn to him for assistance. She couldn’t think of a single way to confess all that she’d learned about the “angel” with whom she’d actually bargained without bringing danger upon him.

  Meanwhile, Ari studied the menu, oblivious—so light-hearted since their discussion. He was wearing that dopey, sweet smile of his that she loved so much, hunching over the table as he read, and seeing him so happy made Juliana want to weep. She refused to let any harm come to him, no matter what, and would find a way to overcome the demon inside of her. Perhaps a priest could be consulted, she thought hopefully. Yes, that was what she needed to do, discreetly locate a spiritual adviser, someone who could help exorcise Layla. The problem, however, was that she had no way of operating one of the Jeeps. But then she recalled that Googling phone that Shay had shown her.

  “Aristos,” she inquired casually. “What is Google . . . exactly?”

  He looked at her in surprise. “You’ve been back, what, a day, and you already picked up on that?”

  She smiled despite herself. “I’ve always been most modern. You know that.”

  “Then Google it.” He tapped something into his phone, then handed it to her.

  “Pardon?” she asked in confusion, taking his cell phone in hand. Looking down she saw the Google search feature was open.

  “You can type anything—and I do mean anything—into Google, and it will tell you what it is. Including the term Google.”

  She stared down at the phone, wondering how she might clandestinely search for a priest without Ari noticing, although he was probably too giddy to notice. He studied the menu some more, then released a slow whistle.

  His smile widened impishly. “Hey, they got seventy-eight live alligators. Says so right here. They’re over in the gator lagoon.”

  He handed her what appeared to be a large napkin. “Here,” he said, “you’re gonna need a bib for the crabs.”

  She felt completely numb; all she could do was keep trying to smile back at him. Her stomach churned, and meanwhile Aristos seemed unaware that anything could be wrong. He didn’t know that their happiness was under threat. He’d relaxed into his seat, sipping a beer. That smile never vanished from his face, not for a single moment.

  Looking at one of the servers dressed as a pirate, his face got even brighter. “Oh, and we should totally go to Pirate Fest next year.”

  “Next year?” Her heart skipped several beats; she’d have sworn it.

  “You’ll still be with me, right?” His sweet smile broke her heart, and she had to stare down at the menu to conceal the tears that welled in her eyes.

  “I would never leave you willingly.”

  “Okay, then! We could get River and Emma, and all dress up. I mean, we work our asses off all the time, right? So long as the world isn’t meeting some epic end that weekend, we gotta do it.”

  “Ari, I . . .” She discreetly blotted her eyes, searching the restaurant for a private area.

  “You need the ladies’?” he volunteere
d cheerily, then pointed the way. “Just follow the signs.”

  She kept her gaze away from him, feeling the intense nausea and heat inside her body grow stronger. And praying that Ari wouldn’t glimpse the tears gleaming in her eyes . . . or notice that she had discreetly hidden his cell phone beneath the folds of her skirt ruffles.

  Mason stared at the marsh, the golden blond grasses glowing with the last light of the day. The drive out to Tybee was always damned gorgeous at this time of day, and he particularly loved the sight of the returning shrimp boats, the gulls following them.

  Normally, that was. Normally, he’d have driven slowly, opened the windows on the truck, and inhaled the briny smell of his native low country. Of course, normal didn’t exist for him anymore, and hadn’t in almost a year. Maybe it would soon, however, now that he was going to take down the demon who’d caused his spiraling descent into hell.

  Keeping his eyes on the road, he leaned across the seat and opened the glove compartment, making sure that he’d fully secured his semiautomatic in there. The pistols were in the side compartment, but depending on what went down at the restaurant, he might need the heavy shit.

  As he closed the compartment, his cell phone rang; he’d been ignoring the thing all damned day, especially because Jamie was hovering over his ass like a mother hen. With a downward glance, he saw that it was Nikos this time. Now, that guy had been utterly conspicuous with his lack of calls and texts, considering they usually pinged each other half a dozen times a day. But he’d seen the quiet pain in Nik’s big brown eyes last night, even though the guy had tried to look away. No wonder he’d sent Emma and River to check on him, not done the proverbial drive by himself.

  Yeah, because you fucked up yet again, Captain Brilliance , he thought, staring down at Nik’s name on the caller-ID display. What must it have taken for the reserved, quiet Spartan to call after the way things had gone between them last night?