He nodded towards someone, dipping his head as they approached, gravel crunching beneath their feet. More than one pair of feet. How many had come to greet him?
How many more were under his command?
Caterina managed to muster enough strength to roll onto her front. Her vision grew hazy from the effort of moving, and when it cleared, she was looking at an enormous sandstone mansion with lights glowing in most of the windows on the three floors.
And her brother.
He was alive.
She shoved to her knees and then her feet, regretted it when her head turned and she stumbled, somehow making it to the wall around the base of a circular fountain that stood in the middle of the driveway.
“Guillem,” she breathed, her eyes darting over him, relief flooding her to give her strength as she saw that he was all right.
He was more than all right.
His cheeks had colour and he was no longer gaunt, and the shadows around his eyes were gone, and she swore his hair was black now. Maybe it was just the light.
He slowly shifted his gaze from Eli to her where she sank against the wall of the fountain.
Caterina looked at Eli as he walked towards her. Towards Guillem.
“Let him go.” She tried to grab Eli when he drew close to her and he cast her a black look, one that had her lowering her hand to her lap because it promised pain and retribution if she touched him, and she didn’t want Guillem caught in the crossfire. “You have me and that’s what Marek will respond to. Guillem is of no use to you. Make him better as you promised and let him go.”
The smile that curled Eli’s lips chilled her to the bone.
“I made him better.” His deep voice rolled over her, each word ratcheting up the feeling inside her. Something wasn’t right. Something was very wrong. Eli’s violet gaze slid to Guillem. “I do not think he wishes to go anywhere though.”
She slowly looked from Eli to Guillem, and a shiver raced down her spine, spreading over her arms and thighs as she noticed something.
There was a violet corona around his hazel irises.
“Your first error was believing your brother to be a vampire.” Eli kept his gaze on her, drilling into the side of her face as she stared at her brother in disbelief. “It is not blood his fangs desire. It is a soul they crave. A soul his hunger needs to feed it.”
Guillem’s lips parted to reveal the barest hint of his fangs.
Fangs that seemed longer now.
Dread pooled in her stomach.
Because he had fed.
He was a wraith, and Eli had always known it. He had never meant to make her brother better. At least not in the way she had interpreted his words, the way she had wanted, freeing him of this curse.
“Your second error was imposing your desires upon him.” Eli’s words sent another icy chill down her spine.
She looked at Guillem, into his eyes, and all of her hope died as she saw in them that Eli was right.
“I never wanted what you did.” Guillem came to her and eased down into a crouch, but his eyes remained cold, devoid of the love they had once shown her. Disgust laced his voice as he stared at her. “I was so sick of you trying to fix me… like I was broken.”
“No, it wasn’t like that.” She tried to touch him, but he reared back, rising to his full height to tower over her. “I wanted it because I love you, Guillem.”
His eyes narrowed and the violet grew brighter as he bit out, “If you truly loved me, you would have helped me as Eli did. He made me whole, Caterina… and I’m glad of it. He set me free.”
“He didn’t set you free, Guillem. He’s using you.”
“You don’t know that,” Guillem snapped and his face darkened. “He helped me.”
And she hadn’t.
All this time, she had believed she had been helping him, but as she looked at him now, she could see all she had been doing was hurting him.
She sank against the wall and fought the tears that wanted to come.
“I have so much to learn about what I am, and Eli will teach me.” For a moment, Guillem looked as if he might soften towards her, but then all the warmth that had been building in his eyes vanished.
And it was like she was looking at another person.
And that sucked the soul right out of her.
“I will.” Eli came to stand before Guillem, his expression holding a hint of pride as he looked at her brother. “Once we have dealt with the immediate threat. Your sister has one final use. She will lure the god to his doom and this world there with it. Then, we shall be truly free.”
The part of her that wanted to live, that wanted to protect this world, and Marek and his brothers, rose to the fore and she shot to her feet, coming to face Eli.
“No.” She lunged for him, managed to land a blow on his right cheek before he could react.
He swayed to his left, his jaw clenched and she cocked her fist again, ready to deliver another blow.
Guillem grabbed her from behind and hauled her backwards as he hooked his arms under hers and pressed his hands to the back of her head, forcing it down.
Immobilising her in a way she had taught him.
“Damn you!” she spat at Eli as she struggled against Guillem’s hold, even when she knew it was futile. He was stronger than she was, the pressure of his grip crushing as he tightened it. Her fight fled her as the pain caught up with her, the thought that she had been hurting her brother all these years, and that now he was turning against her stealing her strength. She sagged in his arms and whispered, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”
“We will take her to the gate in Seville.” Eli straightened and she felt his glare on her, a dark malevolence that said he wanted to lash out at her as payment for what she had done.
“Guillem, don’t do this. Don’t listen to them. Please?” She tried to turn her head to see her brother. “I’m sorry. Please, don’t do this.”
Guillem tightened his grip to the point of pain and she cried out and arched forwards as much as she could when it felt as if her spine would snap.
When he eased the pressure, she sagged again, hanging limp from his arms.
Seville? Gate?
They were taking her back to where she had just been even when Eli had said he wouldn’t do such a thing?
Violet and green flashes lit her boots and the gravel. The wraith was summoning a portal.
She mustered her strength and struggled again, and when that got her nowhere, she bit out, “What use is a damaged gate to you?”
She had seen it take a direct hit, and that look in Marek’s eyes and the way his brother had leaped into action had told her they meant to do something to the gate. Heal it? Close it? She wasn’t sure, but she knew by now they’d had enough time to do whatever it was they had intended to do to it.
“A damaged gate?” Eli’s black leather riding boots appeared in her view, the tails of his coat settling around them as he halted. He chuckled, a cold and sinister sound. “The gate in Seville is perfectly sound. The one we had hoped to penetrate was damaged. I admit, it will be more difficult to succeed with the main gate, but when I drew up my plans for our operation here, I did not have you.”
Another gate?
Eli leaned over and Guillem eased his grip enough that she could lift her head and look at him, right into his violet eyes.
He smiled, lifted his hand and pinched her chin between his fingers and thumb, keeping her gaze on his. “Now I have seen how he reacts to you… I know the god will open it to save your life.”
She twisted her head out of his grip and scowled at him.
Being bait was bad enough. Being a hostage was entirely another thing and she wouldn’t go through with it.
She focused on her body, on the strength that was slowly returning, and how she had felt when she had teleported, trying to build that same sensation inside her as she focused on Barcelona.
On the cathedral there.
Just as the image completed and the worl
d around her wavered, as if it was about to disappear, Eli lifted a hand to her forehead and fire blazed across it. She cried out as the world grew solid again, as hot liquid ran down her nose and her cheeks, the coppery odour of it turning her stomach.
Blood.
Eli withdrew his hand and she stared at his crimson-stained claws as she fought to stop herself from throwing up, battled the pain and tried to push through it so she could teleport.
Nothing happened.
Eli cleaned his fingers on a crisp black handkerchief. “It is a most useful ward.”
She reared back when he raised that same handkerchief to her face, but couldn’t escape him. He dabbed around her forehead and she flinched with each sharp stab of pain, each sting that had her stomach turning because she had the sickening feeling that he had drawn something on her forehead using his claws.
“I admit, this development does cause a few difficulties.” He lowered the cloth and tucked it back into his pocket as his eyes turned colder. “Not for us… but for you.”
She stilled and stared at him, dread filling her again, pulling her insides down.
“You bloomed faster than I anticipated. Perhaps it was the stress of the situation?” He looked to Lisabeta, who gracefully shrugged, and his gaze shifted back to Caterina.
Caterina shook her head, refusing to believe what he was implying. “I can be healed. A healer—”
“It may have been possible once. Perhaps a few days ago. No more.” He looked her over, no remorse touching his features as he studied her. “Now, the remains of your life will play out as the ultimate, beautiful tragedy. The god will foolishly open the gate to save you, damning this world and his one, and then he will forsake you once he realises you will always be a daemon.”
Caterina’s heart sank at that.
She told herself not to believe him. Tried to push his words out of her mind and tell herself he was lying, and that even if he wasn’t, it wouldn’t turn out as he predicted.
But she couldn’t deny the truth.
She had heard the hatred in Marek’s voice when he had been fighting daemons.
She had seen it in his eyes when he had realised what she was.
The hope that had ignited inside her when Persephone had announced she could be saved withered and died.
Even if she could stop Eli and Lisabeta, and save this world, she would end up with nothing.
She had lost Guillem.
And she would lose Marek too.
Everything worth fighting for in this world was gone.
And she wasn’t sure she could face seeing hatred in Marek’s eyes again.
Not when she had seen something else in them.
Something that burned inside her too.
Love.
Chapter 32
Esher appeared from the corridor that led towards the bedrooms on one side of the Tokyo mansion, adjusting the cuffs of his dove-grey shirt. Marek had wanted to head off right away to find Caterina by using his and his brother’s new ability to sense when they were close to the wraith, but Esher had needed a moment.
Seeing Cal hurt, and knowing that they were going after the wraith and the illusionist, two daemons who had almost taken everything from Esher when they had killed Aiko, had sent his older brother skirting dangerously close to the edge.
When Marek lost it, daemons died and the earth shook, causing a minor quake in his locale. When Esher lost it, the seas ravaged the coasts, the rivers burst their banks, and torrential rain battered the lands, and not only in the locale.
Esher losing it tended to result in the entire world suffering.
So, despite how desperately Marek wanted to find Caterina, he had given his brother a precious few minutes alone with Aiko.
He had used the time to wash some of the blood off him, and then pace and go over everything, seeking a starting point for their hunt, one that might cut back on how much time it was going to take them to find Caterina.
He needed her back in his arms—right this moment. He needed to know she was safe, because his chest felt too tight and he couldn’t breathe without her.
“Ready?” Esher drew down a deep breath and Marek could see in his blue eyes that his brother wasn’t ready, not yet, but he was willing to do this to help him.
Marek went to nod.
Shook his head instead as that tight feeling became a tugging, irritating burn.
He grimaced.
“What’s wrong?” Keras looked across at him, over the cream couch where Valen and Eva were slumped together, both resting after the fight.
“A summons.” Marek ground his teeth, because he didn’t need this, not right now. “It isn’t the gate either.”
“Penitence?” Daimon looked less than happy about that, his pale eyebrows knitting hard above ice-blue eyes that verged on white as he stared at Marek. “Bitch goddess.”
The bitch goddess in question was Nemesis, a woman he and every one of his brothers despised. She took pleasure in punishing them whenever they broke a rule, her position as what amounted to the resident torturer on Mount Olympus giving her power over them that they couldn’t deny. She held it over everyone in his world. Even the slightest indiscretion was met with a turn in her dark chamber, and a thousand lashes of her barbed whip.
Ares paid penitence every other week just because he couldn’t keep his foul mouth in order and had a bad habit of cursing in the language of the Underworld.
Speaking it was forbidden in the mortal world and Olympus.
Marek had somehow managed to wind up paying penitence only a few times since leaving the Underworld.
“I can go.” Keras took a step away from Calistos where he slept soundly on the couch that faced the enormous TV. “You go and find her.”
Marek shook his head. He appreciated his brother’s offer, but he was responsible for what had happened. This summons for punishment was because he had lost the twin gate. It rested on his shoulders. It had been his duty to protect the Seville gates, and he had failed.
Keras looked as if he wanted to argue, his green eyes revealing emotions for once. Because Keras had been the one to damage the gate when the illusionist had shown him something featuring Enyo?
It wasn’t Keras’s fault and Marek wouldn’t let him take the blame for it.
“I won’t be long.” Marek looked to Esher. “Be ready. We’re leaving as soon as I get back.”
He stepped before anyone could argue, not bothering to go to Seville for his sword and vambraces, something that was usually required by Nemesis. She liked to see them in what armour they were allowed to have in the mortal world. Marek had long ago decided it was a sick quirk of hers. She liked knowing she had a son of Hades at her mercy, and that he was powerless to stop her from meting out her punishment, even with his sword and shield.
He landed in a dark chamber, under a weak beam of light that made it even more difficult to see into the shadows.
Marek looked down at the thick metal ring attached to the dark ground.
Metal of the gods.
He and Ares had bonded once about how much they hated that ring, because when he was bound to it, it wouldn’t move, no matter how much he struggled.
It was another device, a method used by Nemesis to make him feel weak, and to make herself feel strong.
He sucked down a steadying breath and kneeled before it, but no attempt to calm his nerves and the adrenaline flooding his veins would work. He knew it.
Gods, he hated this.
He had to do it, though. Ignoring a summons was a recipe for making his punishment worse, and the tugging, weakening sensation inside him wouldn’t abate until Nemesis was satisfied he had paid his due. He couldn’t go into battle with it niggling at him, stealing his focus.
“How many lashes are a suitable punishment for failing to uphold a duty?” The haughty female voice rang in the darkness around him and he kept his focus on that infernal metal ring before him, waiting for her to announce his sentence. “Five thousand?”
His brows drew down and he couldn’t stop himself from speaking, because that many lashes would leave him critically weakened, unable to go after Caterina.
“One thousand,” he countered, and knew he was on thin ice when she laughed, the empty sound echoing around the chamber.
He had only ever heard her laugh when she was dealing pain, or thinking about dealing it.
He waited for her to increase the amount as payment for his insolence in thinking he could negotiate the terms of his punishment.
“Two thousand. It seems reasonable. I give your brother a thousand lashes for that black tongue of his.” Nemesis stepped into the sphere of pale light, her blood-red sandals a contrast against the black earth and the sheer layers of her onyx robe.
He slowly lifted his head, needing to see that she was serious and was happy with that amount.
A chill breeze swept from her, causing her black robes to flutter, the layers reaching towards him like tendrils of darkness. The gold filigree that formed a corset over her torso glinted in the light, the black fabric beneath it so thin he could almost see her nipples.
She stepped closer, forcing him to tilt his head back, to look up at her where he knelt at her feet.
At her mercy.
Her cold red eyes glowed as she locked gazes with him, her crimson hair spilling around her slender shoulders as she slowly leaned over.
“Perhaps three thousand?”
“Two.” He should have leaped on the offer when she had made it.
He wanted to say he had somewhere to be, but that would be a mistake. She would probably end up tripling the number of lashes just to detain him, punishing him for thinking something was more important than her.
“Two thousand it is.” She eased to a crouch before him and thick brown leather straps appeared in her delicate hands.
Marek obediently held his hands out to her, wrists together, and remained still as she bound them to the ring.
Marek: Guardians of Hades Series Book 4 Page 33