Marek: Guardians of Hades Series Book 4

by Heaton, Felicity

  He was going to have to attempt to uncover the truth the traditional way, by questioning Caterina and looking for a lie in every word she spoke, and in the way her body reacted. His senses were strong enough to detect spikes in her heartbeat, or tremors in her voice.

  Although she was sick.

  And the wards on the castle were probably draining what little strength she did have.

  Could he really tell if she was lying to him?

  He hadn’t been able to tell up to this point, so what made him believe he could detect a lie in her now?

  He was still blinded by his feelings for her, both the side of him that viewed her as a daemon he needed to eradicate, and the side that desperately needed to protect her and believe her.

  He was too close to this.

  Ares’s expression softened, a hint of concern colouring it. “You don’t need to be there.”

  Marek shook his head. “I do. She’s weak. I don’t want her pushed too hard and she will be if she’s faced with all of you.”

  And no him.

  It would panic her, and gods, he couldn’t bear the thought of her becoming overwrought with fear. She was too weak from whatever was happening to her. It would probably kill her.

  Valen and Calistos returned, looking almost like twins in their standard black T-shirt, fatigues, and heavy boots. Only Valen’s new shocking-violet hair colour made them stand apart, and the colour of their eyes. They jostled and grinned at each other, clearly amused by something.

  Daimon trailed along behind them, tugging at the collar of his navy roll-neck.

  A roll-neck that was wet.

  Marek looked his younger brother over, from his wet white hair that stood up in haphazard spikes as if he had run his fingers through it, trying to make it look as it normally did, to the navy long-sleeve and black jeans that stuck to his skin.

  “What the hell happened?” Ares looked him over too.

  “Someone tried to make a ward on the rocks, you know the ones near the southern end of the island?” Calistos grinned as he looked back over his shoulder at a disgruntled Daimon. “They were a bit slippery.”

  “Hey, maybe he just wanted to cool off and have a swim.” Valen pivoted on his heel and walked backwards, facing Daimon. “Although, you certainly cooled off with all those ice chunks forming around you.”

  “That’s enough.” Ares pushed past both of them and shook his head as he looked Daimon over. “You want me to dry you off?”

  Daimon burrowed into the collar of his top. “I’ll change, thanks.”

  He took the wooden stairs two at a time, heading upwards, and disappeared from view around the corner.

  Valen smirked.

  “Not another word.” Ares scowled at him. “You’ve had your fun.”

  Valen looked as if he wanted to fight Ares on that. Marek braced himself for the usual explosive outcome of Ares exerting some command over Valen.

  Cal eased back a step, clearing room for the fight.

  Valen frowned, and then huffed and shrugged it off. “Whatever.”

  That was anticlimactic.

  Marek stared at Valen, not sure what to make of this new version of his brother. He wanted to tease him about the effect Eva was having on him, levelling out his mood and smoothing his sharper edges, but he knew that if he did that, Valen would bring up Caterina and call her his girlfriend again to taunt him.

  He was beginning to doubt she would ever be that for him.

  Even if she was telling the truth.

  Daimon trudged back down the stairs, dressed in a pair of navy sweats and a long-sleeved dark grey T-shirt. His gloves glittered with frost that cracked as he curled his fingers and flexed them.

  “I don’t have a spare pair,” he muttered to Ares as he reached the bottom step.

  “Come here.” Ares held his hands out. “One dryer coming right up.”

  A heat haze rose from Ares’s hands as his eyes brightened, the flecks of red and gold in them shimmering. Daimon held his hands out a good six inches above them, turning them over several times to dry all of his gloves.

  When they were done, Daimon stared at them, a distant look in his pale blue eyes. “Toasty.”

  When was the last time Daimon had felt warm? Years ago, he had confessed that even in the high heat of summer, he was wracked with chills from time to time, and that the warmth didn’t feel right to him. It felt cloying, choking.

  Did he ever feel warmth like Marek and his brothers could? Was it ever pleasant to him?

  The look in his eyes said that Ares’s heat was pleasant, and that he enjoyed it.

  “Are we going to meet your girlfriend?” Valen grinned when Marek scowled at him.

  “No violence.” He looked at each of his brothers in turn and waited for them to nod.

  Daimon was the last to do it.

  Marek turned away from his brothers and led the way down the spiral staircase, his breaths loud in the narrow space as he fought to settle his nerves. He had only left her barely half an hour ago, but he wasn’t sure what to expect.

  When he reached the door, he peered in through the small barred window again.

  Relief crashed through him as he found her curled up on her side, her eyes open and her breathing rapid but steady.

  “Caterina,” he murmured.

  She tensed and her gaze jerked to him. “Where am I?”

  Her voice sounded stronger. The relief flowing through him grew stronger with it.

  He slid the bolt on the door across and opened the heavy iron panel. He entered slowly, aware of her gaze on him and that her heart was picking up pace. Fear tainted her scent. Her eyes leaped to beyond him.

  He looked back at Ares and Daimon, and glared at them as he subtly shook his head. She needed time to adjust to where she was, and to him. She didn’t need four warriors piling into the room with him, not when Daimon looked ready to deal some violence, even when he had sworn not to.

  The overhead light buzzed on, flickering and making a plinking sound. Caterina squinted up at it and then covered her eyes.

  “You’re safe, Caterina.”

  “I don’t feel safe.” She curled into a ball and then suddenly exploded into a sitting position, her eyes wild. “Guillem.”

  Her face crumpled and tears dashed down her cheeks as she sagged, rolled forwards and hung her head between her legs. The shaking started again, but he knew that this time it wasn’t because of the daemon blood in her veins. She was worried about her brother.

  She should be worried about herself.

  Marek eased to a crouch a few feet from her, keeping enough distance between them that she couldn’t reach him before he could move. Not that he expected her to attack him. She was too busy holding herself together and the strength that had shot through her was quick to wane again, leaving her trembling violently as she stared at him.

  Something fierce slowly built in her wild hazel eyes, something fuelled by a desperation that he could sense in her. She was skirting the edge, liable to work herself into a frenzy before they could get any answers if he let her continue.

  He needed to keep her in the room with him, focused on him, and not on whatever terrible things she was imagining.

  “Caterina, I need you to tell me everything. Starting with what the wraith and the illusionist wanted you to do.”

  Her eyes leaped to his and she lunged forwards, which had Daimon and Ares suddenly in the room, towering over her as they flanked him. She looked up at them, gaze leaping between them, her fair eyebrows furrowing as she shrank back.

  She pulled her feet up onto the cot and pressed her back to the dark stone wall.

  Her focus slowly fell back on Marek.

  “Why did you help me?” Marek held her gaze, part of him wanting to tell his brothers to back off, the rest of him deeply aware of how much he needed them there, right beside him.

  A reminder that this was an interrogation, and that his mission was to uncover information on their enemy and his loyalty was to
his family, not to Caterina.

  She looked at his brothers again where they loomed over her.

  Her lips compressed and she swallowed hard.

  “Why did you help me?” He tried again.

  She looked back at him, something dawning in her eyes, the same wild need that had made her lunge for him and that made sense as she spoke.

  “Help Guillem,” she husked in Catalan and eased forwards, the look in her eyes revealing how much she wanted to reach for him, wanted to take hold of him, because she needed to know he was listening to her. “Help Guillem, and I’ll tell you… whatever you want to know.”

  He could see how important that was to her, how much she loved her brother and feared for him, and it struck him that she had risked a lot by helping him. If she had actually helped him and it hadn’t been another trick.

  “They said,” she hiccupped on a sob, switching to English now as she flicked a glance at all his brothers. “They would save him. But now… if they… they’ll kill him. I know it.”

  Had she done all of this because she had wanted to cure her brother?

  If she had, then she had jeopardised everything to save Marek. Presuming her rescue had been real and not another trick. Gods, he hated that he thought that whenever he started to believe something about her.

  He cursed Esher. If his brother hadn’t flipped his switch, Keras would have been here and this would have been so much smoother. Keras could have taken a look into her mind and told them everything.

  “Who’s Guillem?” Daimon looked down at him.

  Marek didn’t take his eyes off Caterina. “Her brother. He’s a turned human.”

  “A vampire?” Disbelief laced Ares’s deep voice.

  Marek nodded.

  Caterina rocked forwards, wrapped her arms around her stomach and grunted. Her face contorted and sweat beaded on her brow as her cheeks flushed deep red.

  “Is she sick? She looks sick.” Cal sounded concerned.

  “It’s the daemon blood.” Valen answered for Marek. “Probably fucking her up royally.”

  Marek really hadn’t needed to hear that, not when he was struggling to keep it together, awareness of his four brothers building inside him, pulling at the side of him that felt compelled to protect Caterina whatever the cost.

  “Caterina, why did you help me?” He tried for a third time.

  She shook her head and lifted it, pain shining in her eyes as she wheezed, “Help Guillem. Give you my address. Bring him… here. Then… I talk.”

  She doubled over again and cried out, and it took all of his will to keep himself where he was and not go to her as he wanted.

  He couldn’t do what she wanted. He had risked enough by bringing her to this safehouse. He couldn’t bring her brother here too, not when he didn’t know whether or not he was working for the enemy. They suspected a Hellspawn was among their ranks, and he was one of that breed.

  But he had to do something for her brother, because she was serious, and she wouldn’t talk unless she knew her brother was safe.

  Part of him said to wait for Keras. Keras could brute force her mind and get the information out of her, although Marek wasn’t sure she would survive such an assault in her weakened state. There was a chance she would resist, and that would cause her pain. Keras wasn’t exactly gentle when extracting information, and with Caterina turning into a daemon, his brother was liable to be rougher with her than normal.

  “Cal will go and tell him to get away from Barcelona,” Marek offered, hoping it would be enough.

  She immediately shook her head and bit out, “No. Bring… here. I won’t tell anything… until I see… my brother. Need him safe. Need him here.”

  Her head lifted and the hurt and fear in her eyes cut at his restraint.

  “They’ll kill him.”

  Tears streaked down her cheeks.

  Damn it.

  Marek looked to Ares. Ares studied Caterina for a moment, his fiery eyes narrowed and intense, sharp as they took her in, and then they slid down to Marek. He nodded.

  “Cal,” Marek said without taking his eyes off Caterina. “Go to this address.”

  He nodded to Caterina. She recited her address.

  “Got it. I know a place near there I can land.” Cal’s voice cut off at the end, and Marek didn’t need to look to know his brother had stepped.

  Caterina started to rock, holding her stomach. Her face paled, her eyes growing unfocused as she stared right through Marek.

  She was getting worse again. Fear for her brother was stripping away the strength she needed to survive the assault of the daemon blood on her body. He could only hope that seeing her brother again would restore that strength, giving her a shot at surviving the night.

  The sound of boots hitting the stone floor had Marek looking over his shoulder.

  Cal’s expression was grave as he looked down at him. “He wasn’t there.”

  Caterina lunged from the cot and collapsed into a heap on the flagstones. She muttered desperate things to herself, clawed towards him and froze when Ares stepped in front of Marek, blocking her path to him.

  She looked up the height of Ares at the same time as Marek did.

  “I won’t… talk. Find… Guillem.”

  Ares’s face hardened, his eyebrows dipping low and the corners of his mouth turning downwards. He stared down at Caterina, but his words were meant for Marek.

  “Get some air.”

  Marek swallowed hard, the more rebellious part of himself screaming at him to deny that order and stay right where he was. The rest of him didn’t want to witness what was about to happen. Time was up for Caterina.

  Daimon’s eyes glittered with white, as hard as diamonds as he frowned down at Caterina and closed ranks with Ares.

  She tossed Marek a panicked glance as his brothers formed a wall between them.

  Marek stared at her, his brow furrowed, the war raging out of control inside him. He knew what needed to be done, but the thought of his brothers forcing her to talk, the thought of her being alone with them, had him dangerously close to slipping into a black rage.

  “I’m out of here. I can’t stand here and watch this going down.” Calistos moved back a step, into the corridor, and Marek was glad that he wasn’t the only one who was against what Daimon and Ares were about to do.

  Even when he knew in his heart it was the only way.

  They needed information, and it was better she gave it up herself, without Keras forcing his way into her memories. There was a better chance of her coming out of Ares and Daimon’s interrogation than there was of her surviving Keras’s intrusion into her mind.

  “Valen, come shoot some pool with me in the games room like old times. Leave the older brothers to deal with this shit.”

  Valen scoffed. “I’m older than Daimon!”

  “Yeah, but you don’t act like it. Daimon is like eight thousand in spirit age. He acts older than Dad.”

  Marek caught the glare Daimon levelled on Calistos over his shoulder.

  “Sure,” Valen said. “But only because I’m going to run some errands first. We need food and water. She needs it. We’ll get the place up and running.”

  Marek looked at Caterina.

  She needed sustenance, but she needed water most of all. They hadn’t offered him anything to eat or drink when he had been captive in that house, and he doubted Caterina had been treated any better.

  “I’ll get her water and food.” Marek pushed to his feet and backed away from her, each step agony as she stared at him, her eyes growing wild again, fear brewing in them. “I won’t be long.”

  He couldn’t bring himself to look at Ares and Daimon as he turned away at the door, his heart heavy in his chest, sinking deep into his stomach as he heard the iron door closing.

  He hurried up the stairs after Valen and Calistos, thankful that both of them were silent, as deep in thought and as uncomfortable with what was about to go down as he was.

  When they reached the top of
the stone spiral staircase, Valen stopped and looked at him, placed a hand on his bare shoulder and squeezed it.

  “I’ll step to the nearest town and get supplies. Get some air. It’ll do you good.” Valen’s golden eyes softened, revealing a side of him that rarely showed. “Believe me, I know how shitty this is… Fuck, maybe I don’t. Eva had Megan there with her when Keras questioned her.”

  And Eva hadn’t been turning into a daemon.

  Caterina was alone with two gods she didn’t know, warriors who had a duty to eliminate the threat to the gates, and who were deeply protective of Marek.

  “I need to go back to her.” Because he couldn’t let her face them alone.

  He went to turn, but Valen held him firm, stopping him.

  “Just get some air. Give them ten minutes. As long as it takes for me to bring some water back. Then you can go back down there and intervene. If she hasn’t started talking in ten minutes, she won’t start talking.”

  Marek had to force himself to nod. It went against everything he wanted, but he made himself move further away from her, trailed out of the castle as Valen teleported and Calistos went to the boiler room.

  He pushed the heavy wooden door open. The scent of salt and peat hit him, laced with seaweed and heather. He breathed deeply of it as he paused in the late afternoon light, letting it ease the chill from his bones. The sea lapped at the sloping dark grey rocks that formed the edge of the small island, a sound that was strange to him now after spending so long in the hills near Seville.

  Rather than insect song, the call of seabirds rang in his ears, cries that sounded as desperate as the one that had left Caterina’s lips.

  Marek followed the path to the right of the entrance, where it gave way to grass that was soft and damp beneath his bare feet. He walked along the side of the long tall grey castle, passing the arched windows, heading towards the rear where the grass gave way to rock.

  He stood on the point of the island and stared across the water that stretched between two hills, forming an entrance to the loch from the sea. Beyond the hills, in the distance across the dark water, the isle of Skye was hazy despite the clear blue sky.

  Marek scanned the horizon, trying to focus on it rather than what was happening behind him in the small Scottish castle. To his left, the sun was slowly easing lower, on a direct course to set behind Skye. To his right, beyond the mountains, the sky was rapidly darkening, storm clouds rising high into it, catching the golden light.