In the early morning hours, we awaited Casey’s return while the brothers debated cours
es of action in the event that Oz would be less than cooperative or ignorant of how to fix my status altogether. From what I could glean, Sean and Oz had a rather long and complicated past that involved violence, resentment, and quite possibly an assassination attempt. I sat quietly, absorbing all that I could. “Knowledge is power,” Hades often told me. Father seldom proved to be wrong.
I watched how they interacted, what their strengths and weaknesses appeared to be in regards to communication and problem solving, as well as battle preparation. Because it was a battle they expected if Oz was unable or unwilling to deliver what they hoped he was capable of. Quite possibly a war.
15
“Are you sure about that, Jay?” Sean spoke into the phone, fighting to maintain his composure. “Dammit! Fine, yes. I’ll leave now. But you make sure nothing else goes wrong until I get there, understood?”
He hung up so abruptly that I doubted he even heard the caller’s response. It seemed as though, to him, his question didn’t require one.
“What’s going on?” Drew asked, a look of concern overtaking his countenance.
“A crisis. On the seacoast. I have to leave immediately.”
He turned his hardened black eyes to me, and I watched them morph into the green shade of my own. The instant change was fascinating.
“Khara, I have to leave sooner than planned. I would not go unless it was necessary.”
“I know,” I said plainly, assured that his words were true.
“This crisis . . . it wouldn’t happen to have a name, would it?” Kierson taunted from the safety of the kitchen, having gone in there for his third meal of the evening.
“It does indeed,” Sean grumbled under his breath.
“You’d think a couple of millennia would teach you how to pick ’em,” Kierson teased, coming to rejoin us in the living room, a plate piled high with an obscene amount of food in his hand. He walked over to me, elbowing my side conspiratorially before taking a massive bite of bread. “Sean just can’t take the easy route when it comes to the ladies.”
“Another word, Kierson, and I’ll remove your teeth from your face so I no longer have to stare down that ridiculous grin you so enjoy wearing,” Sean countered. His appearance was calm, but his words were menacing. I never doubted their veracity for a moment.
“We’ll keep working on solutions to this problem until you can return,” Drew reassured him. “Go home. And tell Jay that he still owes me a rematch. That little bastard is a filthy cheat when it comes to poker.”
Sean’s frustration seemed to subside minutely at Drew’s statement, and he gave me a brisk nod before heading out the front door. The sadness that he was incapable of keeping from his eyes made that unfamiliar part of me, deep inside, awaken ever so slightly. I did not like that expression on iershis face.
“Soooo,” Kierson drawled between bites. His nerves appeared to calm with Sean’s departure. It also appeared that his teeth would remain intact for the interim. “Sean’s gone and Oz is AWOL. Anyone have ideas as to where we go from here?”
“We’ll do the only thing we can do—what we’ve essentially done since she arrived. We never leave her side,” Drew stated with authority. In Sean’s absence, he was back in command, as much as anyone other than Sean could be when it came to my brothers. I knew he did not want anything to happen to me, regardless of the potential cost to himself, but I could tell by the reactions of the twins that neither of them would want to answer to Sean if harm were to find me. And I did not wish that for them—any of them.
“Am I to be accompanied to the bathroom as well?” I asked for clarification, seeing that the minute amount of privacy I had still been privilege to was soon to disappear in its entirety.
“If we see fit to, then yes. This is serious, and you need to treat it as such, Khara. With all the new revelations, we seemed to have forgotten our initial concerns. Ares is no laughing matter and not someone we want showing up here unannounced to find you. He may not know you exist now, but he’s been known to drop in on occasion when situations regarding the balance get out of hand. If we can’t get this potential debacle locked down, and fast, he might very well come here. That is certainly a problem we don’t need. And to make matters worse, we still have the myriad creatures inhabiting this city to deal with, too. Whichever they are, if they know about you, they’ll be gunning for you. We need to keep you away from all potential threats.”
Before I was afforded the opportunity to rebut, Oz stormed through the front door, a scowl tainting his expression. Casey did not accompany him. He stalked through the living room like none of us were even there, heading toward the staircase before Drew stepped into his path.
“You’re not going anywhere until you give me the answers I want,” Drew demanded. That same curious tone to his voice I had heard before filled the room.
“Your parlor tricks don’t work on me. You should know that by now,” Oz retorted, pushing past him.
“Come here now!” Drew boomed, and suddenly all my brothers and I were standing beside him while Oz just looked over his shoulder and smiled deviously, continuing up to his room.
“Another time, maybe,” he mocked as he disappeared into the hallway above, his footsteps fading into the stillness. I could not be certain, due to the dark color of his clothing, but there appeared to be stains on his pants and jacket—muddy, red-colored stains.
“That mother—”
“Drew!” Kierson snapped, clapping his hands loudly for emphasis. “You wanna maybe put us at ease or something?”
“Right,” Drew replied absentmindedly. “As you were.”
Again, the strange sensation of increasing pressure in the room settled in around us, and we all returned to our previous positions. It was fascinating. I’d never witnessed anything like it. Father easily commanded his domain, but never had I seen his words carry such weight with those that served him or were enslaved by him as Drew’s did over our brothers.
“You know I hate that shit,” Casey snarled from behind us. “Be more specific next time. It fucks with my head when you do it.”
“Sorry. I was irritated. I didn’t choose my words well,” Drew apologized. “When did you get here? I didn’t even hear you come hea
Casey shot a murderous glance in Drew’s direction.
“I’m a tracker. You’re not supposed to hear me.” Casey’s stealth was truly remarkable. None of us had the slightest inkling that he had returned until he announced his presence. I could imagine how such a trait would be valuable to the PC and wondered if it was what he had been bred for.
“So you did find Oz,” Drew clarified, looking curiously back up the stairs that Oz had just employed to escape us. “When he came in alone, I assumed you had not.”
“He conveniently was headed this way when I did hunt him down. I just followed to be sure this was where he was intending to go.”
“He did look a little too intact for you to have encountered him directly,” Kierson teased.
“Yeah,” Casey growled. “I was looking forward to that, too.”
When silence fell over us, I looked to Drew, wanting to know more about what he had just done, calling us to him as he had.
“Drew, what powers are these that you hold?”
“He is able to compel those that serve with him,” Pierson explained, taking it upon himself to speak on Drew’s behalf. “He is also able to do the same with virtually any supernatural he chooses.”
“Yeah, everyone but Oz,” Kierson added. Pierson’s cold expression led me to believe he was not appreciative of the interruption.
“He is born of both the god and goddess of war. It comes with certain . . . bonuses, one might say.”
“So, your abilities are unique?” I asked, taken by the possibility that each child Ares reared would possess some quality akin in extremity to that of Drew’s persuasion.
�
�Of sorts,” Pierson said with an ambivalent shrug. “Kierson told you what he and I can do. Some of the PC have physical powers, some mental, and others are highly specialized. Those powers tend to go unseen for the most part, making them greater weapons than one may think, judging by their appearance alone.”
“Intriguing. Should I not then have some exceptional ability also?”
“Perhaps.” His tone was as indifferent as my attitude. “But I have yet to see anything that would lead me to believe you do. Your so-called defensive abilities seemed greatly lacking against the Breathers. Perhaps Ares took out his daughters because he knew they would possess nothing useful to serve the PC.”
“Pierson,” Drew chastised. “Try a little tact next time.” He then turned his warm and friendly eyes to me. “I don’t think that’s why Ares did that. We already spoke about Eos—”
“Yes, but the Original Three were highly exceptional, Drew. Comparing Khara to Eos is ridiculous. She and her brothers—Deimos and Phobos—were like nothing else created, and have not been re-created since their incarnation. While I do believe that Ares would see another female born of him as an abomination and an affront to Eos’ memory, I think it is for reasons other than what rumor has led us to believe over the centuries that his daughters have not been permitted to live. That is my contention. You can do with it what you will.”
“You think me unexceptional then?” I asked him before he could turn away and disappear into one of his many books that lay about the living room.
“Yes.”
“Then your logic is flawed, brother. Oz said himself that I am an impossibility. By definition, that would make me exceptional.” I walked over to him, aovewid flush in my cheeks that warmed slowly. “I will show you that I am worthy of my title—worthy of being PC. When I do, you will acknowledge that without hesitation.”
“Ooooooh!” Kierson yelled, before doubling over with laughter. “She totally schooled the scholar. Looks like she’s got your number, Pierson.”
Pierson met our words with a scowl before grabbing a tome off the narrow table against the wall and heading upstairs to his room.
“That was awesome, Khara,” Kierson declared, walking toward me with his arm in the air, his hand turned so its palm faced me. “High five, girl.” I looked at him utterly perplexed, which caused him to deflate slightly, dropping his arm to his side. “You have a lot to learn. Guess we should start now.”
He reached for my right hand with his left and held it up above my shoulder, then slapped it with his right hand.
“That’s a high five. Learn it. Love it,” he said with an impish grin. “And be sure to bust it out whenever you succeed in making Pierson look like the ass he tends to be.”
I did not know how to respond to him, so I looked away, finding Casey still lurking near the staircase.
“What of you, Casey? What is your ability?”
Kierson and Drew both sharply inhaled at my question.
“What is my ability?” Casey repeated, his expression more surly and foreboding than normal. “I’m a tracker. Or haven’t you been listening?”
“That is a label that only vaguely describes what you can do. I would like to know what ability makes you so gifted as a tracker.”
“Too bad for you. Tracker is all you get to know.”
He turned away, taking the staircase at his leisure to escape my prying questions. His response was not entirely unexpected. He was guarded and abrasive at the best of times—not the forthcoming type. That aside, there was something about his reactions to me that seemed personal. Whenever there was mention of the Underworld or my time there, it seemed to heighten his aggressive tendencies.
“Yeah, you might want to make a note of this: Casey does not like to talk about himself much,” Kierson warned. “And for the love of the gods, do not ask about his mother. Ever. Like under any circumstances. Do you understand? Never.”
“Who is—”
“Shhh!” Kierson scolded, placing his finger against his lips as he rushed toward me. “Don’t even ask us about it. If he hears you, he will flip his shit, and you don’t want that. Trust me. I know.”
“Flip his shit?”
“Snap. Lose his mind. Go postal. Start fucking up everything in his path, breathing or otherwise.”
“I see,” I replied, finally understanding what Kierson was saying. “I shall not inquire again.”
“It’s late . . . or early, depending on how you look at it. I think now would be a good time for us all to get some sleep,” Drew decreed. “I’m going to talk to Pierson about a few things before I turn in. Kierson, do a perimeter check just to be sure. Khara, head downstairs. We will see you in the morning.”
I nodded before turning and making my way toward the basement door. By the time I reached for the knob, Drew and Kierson had already disappeared to accomplish their assignments. They were diligent, if nothing else.
In the darkened silence of my bedroom, I lay on the cot, my mind unsettled. Thoughettplish theits nagged at me, preventing me from sleep, not the least of which was the memory of my actions at the club, which had led to all the new and ominous revelations: Sean, my mother, the Breathers, and a pervasive evil determined to kill or corrupt me. The last thought seemed ridiculous to me, and I wanted to write it off, but the vehemence with which Oz professed it gave me pause. Though I did not fear death, a point I had made abundantly clear, I did not wish to be made into something I was not. I was neither good nor evil. I did not desire alterations that I did not require.
I tried to sleep as Drew ordered, but my mind continually wandered back to the Tenth Circle and the feeling it had awakened within me. The memory of it caused a resurgence of that sense of freedom that had coursed through me like Acheron through the Underworld: wild and raging with reckless abandon. I could not afford to be wild, but my body craved it, desperately.
All I wanted to do was appease this desire.
When I could no longer contain the residual urge that had exposed me in the first place, I let the restlessness drive me from my bed. I wanted to feel unburdened, naked—free. That need consumed me, burning me from the inside out, driving me from my room, up two flights of stairs, and into the room of another. Without any recollection of my journey there, I soon found myself standing next to Oz while he slept.
Once again finding it offensive, my clothing was off in seconds. My thoughts inelegantly scrambled to keep up with my actions, but it was apparent on a visceral level what I needed. I would satisfy that craving at any cost.
And with Oz, there would always be a cost.
I climbed atop him as he slumbered, straddling his waist as I had so often seen his whores do. That night, I would be one of them. Unfazed by that reality, I reached down to remove the clothes he still wore from that evening. I wanted darkness, rawness, and craved the emptiness that his touch would surely bring. I wanted to feel hollow, bottomless—soulless.
My body worked quickly while my mind numbed further to what was transpiring. Nothing registered as it should have; I was all feeling, without rationale. It was only when Oz shot up, shackling my wrists with his hands, that I became slightly more aware of what I was doing.
I still cared not.
“Khara,” he cautioned, his voice lower and huskier than usual. Hearing him say my name cleared my head slightly, giving me pause, though it was short-lived.
“I will be finished in a moment,” I countered, struggling against his hold to continue my quest. My growing desire was unrelenting.
“You will be finished now.” His words were commanding, nearly penetrating the wall of need that surrounded me.
“No,” I argued, writhing against him.
“Khara . . .” he quietly growled, drawing my name out intently. I heeded his unspoken warning. “Get dressed and meet me downstairs. You don’t want to do this.” Without another word, he abruptly threw me from both him and his bed. His words were a frown, a disapproval that slapped me hard. They, too, helped me to my senses.
When his bedroom door slammed behind him as he exited, the punctuating sound broke what was left of the spell I’d so clearly been under. It had to have been an external force driving me to Oz’s room. What else would have made me go to the one I loathed most to seek what I so desperately needed? Those were not the actions of a sane person, fully in possession of her mind. I was not myself.
When"juk what I I was certain my mind and body had cleared of the dark fog that had rolled in and clouded my judgment, I did as Oz bade me and dressed quickly. Coming down the stairs with as much indifference as I could gather, I found Oz awaiting me, his expression grim. I may have been unimpressed by his dismissal, but I was far more unimpressed with my actions. He appeared to share my sentiments.
“Why did you do that?” he pried, staring into my eyes as though they would reveal my thoughts if he concentrated hard enough.
“Why do you care?” I retorted, thinking that he was hardly able to come from a place of judgment.
“Answer the question.”
“I am going to bed,” I said, heading toward the basement door. In an instant, he was standing before me, blocking the way. “You may attempt to bully your way into getting what you want, but you will not succeed.” I tilted my head to stare up at him. His expression was unreadable.
When he said nothing in response, I moved to step around him, wanting nothing more than to return to my room and attempt once again to find the sleep that had eluded me—preferably before the sun rose. I was met with his arm across my chest, his hand grabbing my shoulder to keep me where I was. Only minutes earlier, I had wanted that hand all over me. At that moment, I wanted to tear it off.
“You don’t seem to be yourself,” he said matter-of-factly, still searching for confirmation of something.
“I am not myself, Oz—you said so yourself. I am an Unborn. I am also the twin sister of Sean, who leads the PC, and a warrior without skill or ability,” I spat, staring him down with my most murderous expression, the one I reserved for the most loathsome beings that roamed in my father’s domain. “Nothing about me is ‘me’ any longer. I have lost all sense of who and what I was. In a matter of days, everything has changed.” He said nothing, his eyes still fiercely pinned on me. The silence between us compelled me to continue. “You seem so interested in why I sought you out, wanting to know why I did it, but answer me this: Why did you not give me what I wanted?”
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