Daemon Grudge

by Stacey Brutger

  His chest expanded so much, it almost dislodged her grip. She peered over his shoulder and fear tightening its fingers brutally around her throat when the arches loomed a few yards ahead and closing fast. “Now!”

  Atinius twisted, his eyes widening in alarm, then he did as he was told and dove, his weight helping to drag them both below the surface. Powerful muscles flexed as he swam, but she knew it was much too late.

  She twisted them, kicking with him, because even a few inches could save them. Searing pain scraped along her back as the metal grate bit deeply into her flesh. A silent scream was locked behind her lips, and she lost half of her air.

  Atinius grunted, and his arm was peeled away from her. Darkness more complete than when they first entered swamped them. There was no up or down as the water dragged them along. Her lungs became heavy and spasmed painfully in her chest from lack of oxygen.

  Then her back slammed against a cement wall, knocking the rest of the air out of her, and she tumbled against the wall like she was stuck in the spin cycle of a washing machine. Her grip went slack, and she grabbed for Atinius, only to have him swept away, the drugs slowing her reaction time.

  She lunged to grab the back of his shirt, the material brushing against her fingertips before it was ripped away. She kicked away from the wall, twisting her ankle as she tried to follow Atinius, but she couldn’t feel or see anything but murky water in every direction.

  Her stomach cramped, her lungs heaving for air, when she was slammed face-first into a wall…

  …then nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Cold crept along her body, leaving a layer of frost crackling over her skin. Octavia struggled to open her eyes, the slightest movement sending shards of pain lancing into her brain like it was being jabbed with frozen ice picks.

  The simple twitch of her fingers shot a wave of agony along her nerve endings like she’d been dropped from a plane very high up…then the plane crashed on top of her. Stones scraped against her back when she finally managed to shift, the rock seeming to leach the very life out of her.

  Her stomach rebelled and she rolled, vomiting the contents onto the floor. The bile stank as the water she’d gulped from the tanks was expelled. Only when her stomach cramped and nothing else came up did she collapse back onto the ground, keeping her breaths shallow so not to set off another wave. It took her a minute to focus on anything but her nausea, and when she finally cracked open her eyelids, she was surprised to see dark stone walls.

  With a groan, she mustered up the energy to push upright and glanced around her prison cell. Defeat rested heavily on her shoulders, her failure nearly gutting her. Worry over the guys shredded her heart. She just hoped that when the soldiers went after her, it gave them enough time to get away.

  Her insides hollowed as the image of when Atticus was shot repeated over and over in her mind, and she wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to hold herself together.

  He was impossibly strong.

  There was a chance he could still be alive…if the drug coating the bullets didn’t slow down his ability to heal. She gritted her teeth against the need to vomit again, knowing there was nothing left in her stomach.

  She twisted, resting her back against the wall, the cool stones helping distract her. Her muscles ached as she took stock of her surroundings, and she slowly stretched, trying to restore the blood flow and sensations and relieve the stiffness. Her ankle twinged, her back ached like a bitch, but the wounds were somewhat healed.

  The cell was small, no more than three feet by six. Bars lined one of the walls. Even from the distance, magic practically radiated from them.

  Magic…she frowned, her mind becoming more alert, and she straightened abruptly, stifling a groan as her body screamed in protest.

  Kronos never used magic.

  Staggering to her feet, she stumbled toward the bars, her ankle throbbing slightly under her weight. The cuts on her back stretched and pulled, itching like crazy, and she grabbed the bars to help keep herself upright.

  And hissed when her hand came in contact with the magic infused in the metal. She jerked away with a grunt, shaking her hands against the sting, cursing when her fingers went numb.

  Caustic laughter emerged from the darkness, and she leaned forward, her face tingling in warning as she neared the bars, and saw Travers leaning against the wall, malicious pleasure lighting his face. “It didn’t take long for you to show your true colors.”

  Octavia stilled, taking in his cocky attitude.

  “What happened?” Her voice was nothing more than a rasp.

  “Besides you betraying the daemons and getting caught in the act?” Travers strutted toward her, taunting her by flipping a blade in his hand. “Now people will see the real you. You’re no hero, no Valkyrie, you’re just another piece of wannabe trash.”

  Heart thudding against her ribs, she gripped the bars, not even feeling the snap of power. “Where’s my team?”

  “Go ahead.” He nodded toward the bars with a smug gleam in his eyes. “The bars are enchanted. The more you use your power, the more the metal will suck it down.”

  “Where. Is. My. Team?”

  Power pulsed in the demand, and a glazed look entered his eyes. “They never returned.”

  He blinked away the sensation, then scowled and narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously.

  She didn’t give a fuck.

  She only cared about one thing.

  “What do you mean?” Her grip tightened, her knuckles turning white, the ache spreading up her arms until her bones began to hurt.

  “They’re gone. They disappeared just like the first team. Just like Eldon.” Hatred burned in his eyes. “Funny how anyone associated with you eventually goes missing, huh?”

  Stricken, Octavia flinched, the accusation striking harder than any blade. Numbness spread, and she peeled her hands away from the bars, the pads of her fingers blackened. A ringing echoed in her ears as she tried to process what he said.

  The guys were gone.

  She shook her head in denial, then narrowed her eyes.

  No—she’d know if they were dead.

  She’d bet her life that Kronos had them.

  “I need to speak with someone in charge. The guys are still alive, and I think I know where—”

  Travers snickered. “Oh, don’t worry, you’ll get your trial.”

  Octavia gritted her teeth, wanting to reach through the bars and stomp on his face. “By then it will be too late!”

  Shock began to wear off, and she scanned the cell, searching for a weakness, ignoring the worthless twit as he went on and on about what the demigods would do to her.

  If it was true, and Kronos did have them, time was of the essence. She had days, maybe just hours to save them, and every second counted.

  She would never forgive herself if something happened to them.

  It was her fault.

  She should never have gotten involved with them. She knew better. Their association with her was like painting a target on their backs. The guys were powerful. No way would Kronos release them…at least not whole, and nausea churned at the thought of the torture her guys would have to endure in order for Kronos to get their answers.

  “You’re a traitor.” Travers ran the tip of his blade across the bars, and she jumped out of his reach. She wouldn’t put it past him to try and slit her throat.

  No, she had more important matters to worry about. “Did anyone else get out?”

  When Travers lingered by the bars, distracted by her question and his own superiority, a spark of an idea took root, and she slowly edged closer. She could try to get through the thick stone walls on her own, but it would take too long.

  The only way to get out was through him.

  “Atinius returned with your body, but he was so badly injured that he collapsed before we could get more out of him.” Derision twisted his lips. “He told us it was a trap, that you knew they were waiting for them.”

&
nbsp; Denial tightened her throat, and she swallowed it down, not giving a shit what he or the others thought about her. Only one thing mattered…getting her guys back. She tensed, ready to lunge for him when a form appeared behind him, materializing out of the darkness, tiny particles coalescing into a form of a beautiful woman, so stunning she seemed ethereal. Power radiated from her in a suffocating wave.

  Travers continued talking, completely oblivious to her appearance. “I’m going to enjoy watching them rip out your magic in punishment for the crimes you committed. I wonder if they’ll even bother with a trial or just declare you guilty.”

  For a daemon, no magic was like having their soul ripped from them—it was a death sentence.

  They were literally unable to remain alive without it.

  Dying was unacceptable—not until she had a chance to retrieve her guys.

  Ignoring Travers completely, she looked over his shoulder at the woman who studied her intently. “A group of humans called Kronos has been taking daemons to create an army of super soldiers. I—”

  “Humans?” Travers guffawed, bending over to slap his knee. “It’s pitiful that you would try to blame the humans. You leaked the location of the meet and got people killed. No humans would stand a chance against two elite teams.”

  Octavia didn’t even spare him a glance, looking straight at the woman who watched them so silently. “I was a part of Kronos until I realized how they were harvesting the serum from daemons to create their soldiers. They’re so close to succeeding, they only need one more ingredient before it will be too late. War will rip apart everything you’ve worked so hard to build.”

  Travers opened his mouth, no doubt to deliver a caustic comment, when the woman reached forward and placed her hand on his shoulder. He jumped and whirled, then blanched when he saw who stood in the tunnels. He bowed low, his eyes downcast, his fear leaving a sour smell in the air.

  “Your Excellency. I—”

  “Leave.” Power thrummed in the command, her voice husky in a way that made Octavia think of sex.

  “Of course, Your Excellency.” He straightened, snapping to attention. He clicked his heels together, then marched away with a precision that would make a general proud, casting a scowl at Octavia as he passed.

  Instead of watching him leave, she studied the demigod, curiosity getting the best of her. Energy snapped and crackled around the woman like static, reminding Octavia of slithering snakes waiting to strike.

  Silence stretched between them.

  As if she’d come to a decision, the woman glided closer to the bars. She wore tailored slacks and a silk tank top that outlined her figure, the white outfit a beacon of light in the darkness. To her surprise, the woman was barefoot, her feet manicured and dainty—the grime in the dungeon not daring mar her delicate skin.

  The demigod cocked her head, her blue eyes so pale they were almost gray. Pure power glowed from them. “You’re not what I was expecting.”

  “There’s still time to save the others.” Octavia couldn’t keep the plea out of her voice as she shuffled closer to the bars, taking care not to touch them. “I can get them back. I can stop this war before it’s too late.”

  “Travers is an idiot, but not wrong.” The woman’s inhuman blue eyes sharpened, revealing a cunning mind. “If you’re not responsible for the ambush, who is?”

  Octavia stilled, almost able to taste freedom. She knew the demigod was dangerous, that telling her the truth could be treacherous, but she was willing to risk anything to get the guys back. “Eldon suspected a traitor inside the daemons, one working with the humans to create the serum so they could live without having a benefactor. All they needed to do was turn over a few of their own people. In return, the humans got their soldiers.

  “The drug is close to being completed. It’s in the final stages of trials. They won’t go down without a fight. As soon as both parties get what they want, it will be war.”

  Out of everything she said, the woman only reacted when Eldon’s name was mentioned.

  She flinched.

  Octavia could work with that.

  “Eldon died trying to help a group of daemons get out of the city.” She swallowed down the pain at mentioning his name. “I arrived too late to help. I managed to get a couple of the kids out, but…my guess is the daemons were trying to sneak the kids out of the city without using their powers…or maybe they were just very weak.”

  The demigod’s interest sharpened. “You were with him when he died?”

  Octavia hesitated, suddenly sensing the trap.

  The demigod wanted one thing…the stone. If she told the woman about it, there was a chance the woman would rip it out of her now and leave Octavia’s guys to their fate. Everything inside her rebelled at the idea, and her mind whirled as she went through her limited options. If she didn’t get out of her prison soon, it would be much too late for them anyway.

  “Pythia gave the stone to me.” She lifted her chin, bracing to have her soul ripped out of her. “I have it.”

  The demigod closed her eyes and bowed her head. She inhaled deeply, and everything about her seemed to relax. When she finally looked up, she smiled. “Did you know that Pythia wasn’t the only oracle at Delphi? A number of young girls were sent there to train, but one became Pythia’s friend and devoted follower. She had a fraction of the prophetic gift, so most people overlooked her. When others were hunted down and killed, she was spared.”

  Everything inside Octavia went quiet—she was talking about herself. “Pythia was your friend.”

  The demigod gave a small nod. “My name is Cassandra. I was a weak daemon at the time when the gods ruled. When they vanished, the few of us who remained were given a boost of power. Pythia foresaw the fall, saw the newly-minted demigods fighting each other to gain more. She was too powerful, and knew it would make her a target, so she sent everyone else away to keep them safe.”

  “Except you.” Octavia saw the stubborn tilt to the woman’s chin…also the haunted look in her eyes.

  “I refused to leave. Refused to let them win.” Defeat bowed her shoulders. “When they hunted her down and killed her, I was able to gather her essence before they could take her powers, and infused it into the stone called the God’s Eye…one of the few human reservoirs that can hold such power. I didn’t know she would remain trapped, unable to move on to the afterlife.”

  Cassandra glanced away, as if seeing the past. “A number of us went into hiding and built a power base. After a time, the others died off until only a few of us originals remain. I kept the stone safe…until she disappeared a few weeks ago.”

  Octavia was floored. The woman was an ancient, a step removed from full-blown goddess status. Something about her presence here didn’t make sense. “You were Eldon’s benefactor.”

  She tipped her head, sorrow shimmering in her eyes. “Yes.”

  “You’re also Warrick’s benefactor, aren’t you?” Octavia would stake her life on it. That meant she cared for them, and a surge of hope left her feeling buoyant. She still had a shot. “Did you come down here to kill me?”

  “Of course not.” Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Your fate rests in the hands of the pantheon.”

  A ruthlessness shifted in her eyes that belied her denial. Octavia felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice, and one wrong move would send her tumbling over to her death. Ignoring the static that snapped at her, Octavia gripped the bars. “Let me try to save them.”

  All emotions disappeared from the demigod’s face. “And give Kronos exactly what they want?”

  “Give me a chance to shut them down for good. Leaving me here to die won’t stop them.” Her bones ached as powers rose and churned inside her, eager to lash out. The longer she held on to the bars, the more volatile the energy became until it swirled to the surface.

  It would not be controlled or denied.

  Octavia slowly pried her fingers away, her breathing strained. Her body ached as she forced her back to strai
ghten, not bow under the strain of the fluctuating power.

  “You believe you can prevent the war.” Cassandra shook her head like she pitied her.

  “No, Pythia told me I could stop the war,” Octavia corrected her, shaking out her hands to get rid of the ache, her skin prickling painfully as sensations rushed back into them. “And I’m determined to do my damnedest to succeed. Eldon deserved it. The innocent people on both sides deserve it.”

  “I must speak with the pantheon.” The demigod appeared disturbed, a frown creasing her porcelain countenance. She turned to go, then paused and spoke over her shoulder. “What are you willing to risk to prove that someone inside the compound is the traitor?”

  The raspy voice carried a touch of rage, enough that a shiver went up Octavia’s spine.

  Blue eyes glowed until they appeared gray. “Would you be willing to stay in prison and see who comes for you?”

  Her insides froze—staying meant leaving the guys to their fates.

  Everything inside her rebelled, her magic stilling like a predator ready to strike despite knowing that going up against an ancient when she had little to no control would almost guarantee her death. She couldn’t make herself agree, not completely.

  “You have until the end of the day.”

  It was all she was willing to give.

  Only when the demigod gave a small nod did the powers swirling under her skin slowly settle to wait, leaving Octavia alone in her cell to stew and worry if she’d just trusted the wrong person.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Travers returned less than five minutes later. Thankfully, their conversation seemed to be over, since he acted like she was beneath his notice, which was perfectly fine by her.

  She studied the lean man, but just couldn’t see him being the mastermind behind the rebellion. He was too rash, too arrogant, and just plain too dumb. Honestly, she’d be surprised if anyone liked him enough to spit on him if he was on fire.

  No, he was being manipulated.

  He wasn’t necessarily a bad guy…just an asshole to anyone who was better than him…which was basically everyone.