Daemon Grudge

by Stacey Brutger

  It has always been him.

  And he was after the stone.

  “What the fuck is happening?” Travers charged forward, and Darren’s two men grabbed his arms, holding him back.

  “What about him?” One of the Kronos guards nodded toward Travers, who was standing slightly to her right.

  A second later, there was a thud, and he crashed to the ground next to her, a nasty gash near his temple. Blood spilled down his face to soak into the ground. He was out cold.

  “Consider him a bonus.” Darren came to a stop next to her, his face a cold mask, nothing remotely human remaining.

  “You’re the traitor.” She’d been a fool, her insides gutted with the knowledge that she’d royally fucked up. “There never was any trade.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  Darren glanced down at her, regret briefly touching his expression, but it was quickly replaced by a chilling ruthlessness. “No. Believe it or not, I never wanted them or you to get caught up in this mess. But things need to change. Our people are dying out. I had to do something.”

  “By sacrificing your own people?” She rolled her eyes at him, but when she went to stand, he kicked her weak ankle with enough force that she heard the bones snap.

  She bit back a scream behind gritted teeth, refusing to make a sound.

  Power churned, leaking from her bones at her agitation. She longed for Warrick’s cold focus so she could rip through the manacles, but the pain in her leg distracted her. The metal siphoned off the magic almost as fast as she called it.

  Almost.

  She tugged at the metal, ignoring the near-crippling pain of her magic snapping against it, and felt a slight give.

  With enough time, she knew she could break free.

  “Some sacrifices need to be made. For the good of our people.” His fanatical belief that this was the only way gleamed in his eyes.

  “You’re no better than the demigods you hate so much.” She cast him a look of disgust. “I thought that was what you were trying to stop…the sacrifice of your people.”

  The two of his men shifted uncomfortably at her accusation, dropping their eyes, but they did not protest.

  “It will be worth it in the end.” He glowered at her. “You’re stirring things up, moving up the timetable. I would’ve preferred to keep Warrick and his men out of the rebellion, but you made that impossible. The formula is close to being finished, and I can’t allow you or your men to ruin all our carefully laid plans. Daemons need their freedom. With the stone to show us the way, we can have a new future, where we no longer have to die so senselessly.”

  Octavia channeled more and more power, sweat beading on her forehead, her hands shaking under the strain. Her wrists hurt like someone slashed them open and were chiseling out the bones one tiny section at a time. The metal stretched, weakening a fraction more. She just needed a few more minutes.

  “You’re a fool. You’re so focused on your goal, you can’t see the truth.” Pity and loathing filled her as she stared up at him. “In your quest to save the daemons, you’re going to destroy them.”

  Fury darkened his expression, and he slammed his fist into the side of her face. Pain exploded in her cheekbone, the area burned, then went numb. Blood streamed down her cheek, and she slowly straightened and lifted her chin up, already feeling her eye beginning to swell.

  “You’re not one of us. You couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to be hunted for your abilities.” He sneered at her, then his tone turned persuasive, a zealous light in his eyes “We deserve our freedom after centuries of servitude. With the serum, we won’t burn through our powers. The demigods will no longer have a claim on our souls, and there will be no more dying with the fear of never being reborn.”

  “No, of course not. How could I possibly know what it’s like to be hunted?” She spit out the blood that filled her mouth where her teeth cut into her cheek, glancing pointedly around the clearing, then lifted her chin in defiance. “While the sentiment is wonderful, you’re going about it the wrong way. Daemons have an innate sense of integrity and justice. Killing your own kind isn’t the honorable way to go about achieving your goals, and you know it. You’re going to get everyone killed.”

  She didn’t even see his boot until it connected under her chin. Even as she flew backwards, darkness grabbed hold of her and dragged her into unconsciousness. The ground reached up to smack her, and the world fell away.

  Warrick came to in a four-by-four cage with barely enough room for him to maneuver. He grunted when he rose on his haunches, his body shaking under the strain. The beating he took left him covered with blood and bruises, but no bones were broken. He wore nothing but his pants, his skin smeared with black sludge. He touched the sticky substance, recognizing it as the blood of the twisted beasts they slaughtered.

  The bastards were fucking hard to kill and wouldn’t stay down unless their heads were removed from their body. Hacking off an arm or leg didn’t even slow the creatures. He flicked the muck off his fingers, grimacing at the rotten smell that remained, lingering like the noxious fumes from a skunk.

  He shook his head hard, trying to clear his thoughts. His senses were muted, like he was only half alive, and he realized the cages were forged with Hephaestus steel—metal created by a god to contain gods. A thin coating of it covered the bars.

  There was no escape unless they let him out. The longer he was in contact with the metal, the more it would drain him. If he dared to use his power to heal or try and break free, the bars would just drain him faster. Only the strongest gods could escape the metal, and only if they were cunning enough.

  Worse, Octavia was right—someone within the daemon compound was helping Kronos. Only the daemons had access to the components to create the metal.

  He shifted to ease the pressure of the deep bruise in his thigh, and hissed when his back came into contact with the cage, leaving a large welt behind. He leaned forward and sniffed the bars, then reared back at the acidic smell. The metal was caked with some type of poison, no doubt to keep them docile and weaken their urge to fight.

  The events of last night came back to him in fits and starts.

  It was a trap.

  And they were after Octavia.

  He swiveled in his cell, heart thumping painfully against his ribs when he frantically searched the other cages. He bowed his head in thanks when he didn’t see her.

  She’d gotten out.

  He sagged, his bruised ribs pinching when he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he pushed aside his emotions and took stock of his situation. The room was stark, all sterile white walls and gleaming stainless steel. Instruments and lab equipment were arranged in an orderly manner. Besides his cage, there were five others, three occupied with a member of his team, while two of Darren’s people lay unconscious at the bottom of their cages.

  Keegan had his eyes closed, his legs crossed, his arms resting on his knees, his expression serene, like he was in a trance. Keegan was in the same battered condition as Warrick, though the coloring of the bruises on his torso indicated a number of his ribs were broken.

  Nikos was crouched on his hands and knees, staring intently at the bars, reaching out to touch one with his finger. Even at the distance, Warrick could smell burned flesh as Nikos continued to touch it again and again. No doubt the pain kept him focused, but it was also a way to test if the Hephaestus coating on the metal could be broken.

  The kid had a maniacal grin on his face—the broken part of himself that never quite healed correctly that made him do stupid-ass shit without a care for his welfare—was in complete control. It was his coping mechanism. Nikos appeared to be the most healed, his body less battered, though he did have a nasty gash on his skull near the hairline that looked like he’d nearly been scalped.

  Atticus was slowly turning in his cage, searching corner to corner, nothing but pure wolf staring back. He appeared to be in the worst shape, like he’d been through a blender. A nasty bullet wound marred
his shoulder, black streaks emanating from the wound. Marks from the bars were crisscrossed over every inch of his flesh, as if he’d thrown himself at the cage over and over for hours, struggling with the driving need to get out. Imprisonment would be worse for him because of his past.

  When he’d first turned into a wolf, he’d been collared and kept confined by a sadistic demigod who used him as his killing beast, only releasing him to hunt and feed on his assigned prey…and anyone else who got in his way.

  The longer Atticus was trapped and confined, the more of himself he lost, and Warrick feared soon there would be nothing left. It took him years to heal the first time, and Warrick was afraid that this time there would be no coming back.

  It was then that he noticed another room beyond the glass wall, like it was an observation room. Dozens and dozens of occupied cages were stacked on top of each other against the far wall, the occupants listless and broken, every one of them showing some signs of torture.

  The team they were sent to rescue was among them.

  They were more alert, ready to act, just biding their time.

  What grabbed Warrick’s attention was the creature strapped to the table. It was similar to the beasts they fought in the tunnels, only this one was half formed. Bile threatened to choke him when he saw a young daemon beneath all the horror. Despair and pain made the guy’s eyes listless, but Warrick knew it wouldn’t be long before only madness and the need to hunt and destroy remained, a mindless killing machine that was a sonofabitch to exterminate.

  “How long do we have before she’ll try to rescue us?” Keegan’s voice was hollow, his expression gutted.

  Because he was right.

  The rest of the daemons might write them off as dead, but not her stubborn, beautiful ass. Octavia would come charging to their rescue and be taken, and his gut cramped with the knowledge that he was responsible for it happening.

  He should’ve listened to her, but he’d been so focused on keeping her safe once and for all that he’d underestimated their opponent.

  It would tear up his insides to see her behind bars. He stared at the poor bastard in the room beyond, his heart aching, almost able to see her lying on that table while they hacked her apart.

  She warned him that they wanted her for their experiments, and he cursed his own stupidity, because he was afraid he’d handed the Kronos group the perfect bait for their trap.

  Them.

  No way in hell was he going to allow Octavia to sacrifice herself to save the team. “We need a plan.”

  The rest of the guys paused what they were doing, leaning forward as he sketched out what he wanted.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Atticus

  Octavia groaned as she woke up, awareness of her surroundings coming into focus slowly as pain riddled her body. Her jaw felt broken, her eye nearly swollen shut. Her ankle throbbed, but she could move it, which meant it had already healed at least partially. To her surprise, she was relatively whole otherwise.

  She became aware of voices next, the blurry forms of two people in military garb came into focus, their backs to her as they discussed their plans to extract her DNA or whatever the hell they needed without it breaking down.

  To them she was nothing more than a lab rat for their medical studies, something less than human. A few might wince at her screams of pain, but most just scowled in irritation when the volume hurt their ears. The few who showed any signs of empathy were quickly reassigned.

  A chill seeped into her from the metal table beneath her. The bright florescent lights burned her eyes, the white and chrome room making everything look stark. From memory, she knew the floor was covered with a grainy white tile, and a drain in the center to wash away the bloody evidence of their medical testing.

  She was fully clothed, which meant they hadn’t yet turned their gentle ministrations on her. She inhaled deeply, her back flexing, and the restraints around her wrists dug into her flesh. She poked at them with her magic, and the cuffs nipped back hard enough to make it feel like a vise had clamped down on her bones.

  She was strapped to the table like she was a death row inmate. After escaping their clutches, she was sure they saw her as enemy number one who’d dared to take off with the one thing they needed to transform the world, and not for the better.

  She had to get free and find the guys. She feared her time was running out. If she didn’t act soon, she’d be the one who needed rescuing.

  She pulled the magic from her bones and it purred, rubbing against her in welcome, as if it had been worried. She gathered the magic, its heat searing her insides until she released a trickle of it to wrap around the restraints. It felt like ants were chewing along her veins. She increased the stream, the ants turned into wolves, and they grabbed her arms and gnawed at them like they were fucking chew toys.

  There was a slight give, then the metal began to stretch like taffy. When it felt like her hands were about to be amputated, she finally relented. She shifted slightly, the cuffs bitterly cold where they touched her skin, but she noticed she had more room to maneuver.

  Just enough room.

  She pulled slowly, the metal cutting into her flesh, her blood making her hand slick. Skin peeled away just as her left hand popped free. She pulled harder on her right, feeling it beginning to give when the door to the medical unit opened and a couple of guards entered.

  Fuck!

  She placed her left hand flat on the table and closed her eyes, slowing her breathing. Determination gave her strength, and she pressed down until her thumb popped out of joint with a slight crunch. Her right hand slipped free a second later, and she carefully snapped her thumb back into place. She stilled, playing possum, hoping no one was paying too close attention.

  “You called for guards?”

  Her breath stalled in her chest at the sound of that voice.

  Thomas!

  Against her will, her eyes popped open. He was gazing right at her with no expression on his face, and her heart shredded…he’d taken the serum.

  Static crackled over his skin even at this distance, his eyes glowing slightly, his form a little bulkier.

  He was turning into something else.

  Overwhelming sorrow threatened to swallow her whole, a lump swelling in her throat—her friend was gone.

  “This, gentlemen, is our future.” The doctors turned from the screen they’d been studying. The male smiled broadly at the soldiers, while the female began preparing a series of syringes. “This specimen was genetically engineered and created specifically to bring us to a new age of evolution. Sickness and diseases will be eradicated once and for all.”

  “Will it kill her?” Indifference laced Thomas’s question, the bored tone sending shards of pain lancing through her heart.

  Blood dripped from her damaged hand and began to pool on the table, and she shifted slightly to hide the evidence, feeling the ever-expanding wetness of it absorbing into her pants. Her flesh was knitting together slowly, but she resisted pulling on her magic, not wanting anyone to notice her new abilities.

  “Most likely.” The doctor gave a negligent shrug, cheerfulness fading, and he scowled at the soldiers like they were idiots who couldn’t see the bright future he painted for them. “You’re missing the point. When her parents died when she was a baby, the hospital tests came back as a perfect match. When she went into the system, we took the opportunity to lay claim to her. It was our serums that created her for the sole purpose of advancing our future, a prototype built by Kronos, one that will usher in a new future. Without us, chances were she would’ve died a long time ago.”

  Octavia felt like she’d been slammed into a speeding truck, devastation rocking her world. It made a sort of sick sense, and she was almost relieved to know her parents hadn’t abandoned her. No wonder the other kids who transferred from the orphanage with her had disappeared…they were all property of Kronos. She was just the model who lasted the longest, and they were about to chop her up for parts.
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  It explained why she always felt so freakish around everyone else.

  Because she was like no one else.

  Octavia turned her head toward the doctor. “You and I both know that taking me apart will only kill me. You will not find what you need.”

  The doctor scoffed. “We have no intention of killing you, that’s just a byproduct of harvesting your plasma. The substance is delicate and breaks down fast, so we need enough to create and replicate more. Regrettably, we need the whole of your blood supply.”

  “I don’t understand.” What did her plasma have to do with creating the serum? They’d taken her blood for years. Why was now any different?

  The doctor puffed up his chest, like he’d made the greatest discovery in the history of the world. “The last time we took plasma from you, it was a bright golden hue. We thought it was tainted, but when we tested it in the serum, your plasma stabilized it. Unfortunately, we used the whole sample, and now we need more to begin production.”

  Her last appointment had been right before she left. The female doctor came toward her with several large syringes, and Octavia tensed, studying the guards and her chances of success. There was no way she could allow them to create their monsters using her blood.

  This was going to hurt.

  While they might not be able to kill her, their torture would make her wish she was dead.

  Choking erupted from the corner of the room, and she twisted to see Travers was shackled to the floor by a collar around his neck. He looked pale and sickly, clinging to the metal as he struggled to breathe. His eyes bulged, and he gaped at her in horror.

  With everyone distracted, she grabbed the female doctor’s wrist and twisted, burying the needle deep into the bitch’s chest. Without hesitation, she slammed the plunger down, uncaring that the amount of sedative would kill the bitch.

  The doctor gasped in horror, her bug-eyes huge behind her glasses, then her eyelids fluttered and the strength went out of her legs. Even as she dropped to the ground with a heavy thump, her breathing became erratic. She had only enough oxygen left for another minute before her muscles forgot how to work and she suffocated.