Heart of the Assassins (An Academy of Assassins Novel Book 2)

by Stacey Brutger

  Morgan didn’t know what to believe. No god would ever be so forgiving. Even if it wasn’t her fault, she inadvertently played a part in his downfall. “What do you want?”

  “I want to fulfill my part of the bargain.” He strode toward her, and Morgan barely resisted the urge to back away, half expecting him to take her head. “If I don’t complete my side of the deal, I could be hauled back to Tartarus.”

  “What do we need to do to stop the terraforming?” She followed him toward the gate. The guys must have sensed her unease and remained close on her heels.

  “You need to re-set the seal.”

  Morgan hesitated, wondering if this might be a trick in order to finish breaking the seal and destroying the gates of hell completely. Gods were tricky. While he might be mortal now, his powers would return eventually, and he would be a demigod once more.

  As if reading her thoughts, he gave her a cynical smile. “Unfortunately, being mortal has a nasty side effect. While I maintain a few of my powers, they’re not enough. That means you must do the heavy lifting. Only someone with the bloodlines of the gods has enough power to seal the gates permanently.”

  That he could’ve told her at any time how to seal the gate smarted, but she was practical. No one would have given her the information without exacting a price. At least with Shade she could live with herself. “What do I need to do?”

  “The gate requires your blood.” When he reached for the blade he had tucked against his back, the whole team shouted and leapt between them. Shade lifted his hands in surrender, but neither Kincade nor Draven lowered their weapons.

  While they were distracted, Morgan called up her knife and sliced the blade deep into her palm. “What next?”

  The men whirled. Kincade and Draven swore, Ryder and Ascher frowned, stepping protectively closer, while Atlas lingered near Shade, a weapon tucked tight against his leg, no doubt ready to slice his throat if the demigod dared to even breathe wrong.

  “Touch your bloody palm to the sigils.”

  Morgan blinked. “As simple as that?”

  He raised a brow. “Not so simple. It will take sheer brute force magic to seal the gates. If you don’t have enough power, it will take your life as a sacrifice, too.”

  Of course it would.

  The gods never did anything by half measures.

  She lifted her bloody hand when Kincade grabbed her wrist.

  “We can use his blood.” He jerked his head toward Shade, and the rest of the guys were already in motion when she shook her head.

  Shade’s eyes widened, a snarl curling his lips as he dropped into a fighter’s stance.

  “No, he’s not strong enough. I’ve already taken enough from him, I won’t take his life as well.” Knowing the guys wouldn’t relent, she quickly stepped into Kincade’s space, and kneed him in the balls as hard as she could, still able to feel the hurt when he tried to force her to abandon them.

  When he dropped, she whirled and slammed her palm against the sigil at the center of the gate. Magic sizzled along her bones the instant her hand made contact with the wall. Her blood flowed into the outline of the sigil, then spread beyond to the first circle, then slowly spilled over and spread to the second circle.

  The sigils absorbed her blood hungrily, demanding more, until she was woozy and her legs wobbled. The blood soaked through the door, allowing her access to see into the room beyond. A plain pedestal stood in the middle of the room with a single, innocent clay jar resting on top. Underneath the pedestal was one last sigil.

  Her blood filled the mark with agonizing slowness.

  Once complete, the sigil blazed with light like a beacon, pulled forward by the magic in her blood. Fog slowly began to spill into the small chamber behind the gate, wisps of smoke being drawn back into the jar.

  Shade was right. It required a lot of brute-force power to re-seal the gate. The sigil consumed the magic in her blood, but demanded more, slowly snaking its way back toward her like a hound that caught a scent. She had no doubt that once it reached her, the sigil would pull the magic directly from the source…her.

  More and more fog filled the chamber, the lid of the jar rattling as it filled, and she felt herself weakening, struggling to remain conscious. Her hand began to tingle, like it was going numb, thousands of needles piercing her flesh. The sensation moved up her arm, and she realized the sigil was consuming her from the inside out. By the time the pain reached her shoulder, catching her breath was impossible.

  She struggled against the instinctive urge to pull away.

  She needed to do this.

  Atlas was counting on her.

  She promised to save him.

  She refused to let him down, knowing how much turning back to his original form meant to him.

  Her legs shook, her muscles turning watery, and she fought to keep her knees locked. The needles felt like railroad spikes splitting open her bones to feast on her magic. Kincade’s familiar touched slipped around her waist, holding her body upright, tight against his. She heard him speaking from a distance, but couldn’t decipher his words as the pain reached her chest. She expected to hear swearing and anger, but the gentle whispers made her ache.

  She didn’t want to die.

  The world around her began to darken and fade when the lid to the jar suddenly stopped clattering and snapped shut. Milky fog churned inside the jar, once more safely tucked away.

  It was done.

  The painful sensation of having her insides sucked dry through her pores faded gradually, leaving her feeling hollow and weak. It took an effort to peel her hand away from the gate, her arm too heavy to hold up any longer, and she was grateful when Kincade swept her up in his arms as darkness swept over her.

  Kincade carefully caught Morgan when she fainted, her weight too damned light in his arms. His eyes dropped to her neck, only able to breathe again when he saw her steady pulse. “What the hell happened?”

  The question was nothing more than a growl. He reluctantly lowered Morgan to the ground, crouching protectively over her as he glared up at the asshole Shade.

  The man looked pale and swallowed audibly, but his eyes weren’t on him, they were on Morgan…the fucker knew something. Kincade barely resisted reaching for his blades as he rose to his full height, cursing that they needed the bastard alive. “Speak.”

  “If her father is who I believe, then there is nothing you can do to protect her.” The man finally lifted his girly eyes from Morgan. “She’s growing into her power. Whatever bindings were put on her are snapping, too weak to contain her anymore. When her powers manifest, they will come for her.”

  “Who?” Atlas circled Shade, cutting off his escape.

  Ward watched the exchange from the sidelines with a little too much interest.

  The dick was going to be a problem, but the team had more urgent issues to deal with first.

  “Anyone and everyone.” Shade shook his head, his eyes dropping back to Morgan’s still form. “Only the gods have the power to seal the gate.”

  “So, even if the council wanted to close the gate—”

  “It’s possible...if they all worked together, but it’s highly unlikely they would’ve evaded the fog with their magic intact to even make the attempt. And if they did escape the fog, the sheer amount of magic needed to seal the gate would drain them. If they survived the experience, the chances that they would ever be able to cast magic again is very slim.”

  Such a clever trap.

  The council members were the only ones strong enough to possibly contain the mess, which would prevent them from draining Tartarus any further, but the fear of losing their magic ensured that they wouldn’t even try.

  The gods had planned for every contingency.

  A chill slithered down his spine—the council had sent their best and brightest to be callously sacrificed, knowing the possibility of success was practically non-existent—Atlas and his men hadn’t stood a chance.

  Then another realization struck
him…only the gods could seal the gate, which meant at least one or more of the gods had escaped the expulsion to Tartarus to set that trap.

  “So you never intended to seal the portal?” Draven casually began to flip his blade, a sure sign the fucker was seconds away from death. Though he didn’t do any solo missions anymore, Draven was one of the deadliest assassins. If someone needed to be dead quickly and quietly, they would send him.

  “Of course.” Shade scowled. “Though I only gave my word to tell her how, I had every intention of helping. If the gods are still alive in this realm, we will need her alive. My mother gave birth to the gods. My blood, combined with hers, should’ve worked…before.”

  Shade’s eyes dropped to Morgan again, as if the bastard couldn’t stop himself, and every protective instinct in Kincade rose at the possessiveness in the asshole’s look. He placed himself between her and the fucker, not wanting him to get ideas, signaling Draven to guard her.

  Draven would fight like the devil, even sacrifice himself in a heartbeat if it meant keeping her safe.

  “She needs to be trained property and none of you are capable of doing it. You should hand her over to me, so I can—”

  Kincade wasn’t even aware of throwing the first punch, taking vicious pleasure as the man’s head snapped back and the feel of blood on his knuckles. He didn’t feel the blow to his ribs as they began to exchange punches in earnest. The others joined as well, and Kincade begrudgingly admitted the man wasn’t a pansy, holding his own against them.

  That didn’t mean he was letting the fucker anywhere near Morgan.

  “Morgan.”

  She felt someone brush their lips against her forehead, dragging her from the darkness.

  “Mmmm?” She pried open her eyes and smiled up at Draven. “Hey.”

  “Hey, beautiful.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled down at her. “How do you feel about sitting up? I fear your mates will kill your demigod if you don’t wake up soon.”

  “What?” Morgan lurched upright, the grabbed Draven’s arm when the room swam. Her body felt like dead weight. “Get me up.”

  He slipped his arm around her waist, easily hauling her ass upright, using more energy then she had available at the moment. Her bones hurt. The thought of touching anything magical made her ache, and she doubted she could pull a rabbit out of a stupid hat even if it was already sitting inside it. She staggered a few steps, and Draven helpfully steered her to the opposite side of the room. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He winked then shoved her into the lion’s den.

  Shade had his back to the wall, his violent-blue eyes dark with frustration, only his vow preventing him from killing her men outright. The guys were taking their turns trying to beat the crap out of him, but the nightshade gave as good as he got.

  “Would someone mind telling me what the hell is going on here?”

  Kincade turned at the sound of her voice, taking a blow to his jaw that nearly dropped him to the ground. Morgan sighed, raising a brow at Shade, but only received a shrug in return.

  “Did it work?” She ignored the team as they gathered around her, directing her question to Shade. She glanced at Atlas, and her spirits plummeted. He looked the same.

  She failed.

  “Yes.”

  “What?” She whirled to face Shade and scowled, pointing an accusing finger at Atlas. “Then why isn’t he cured?”

  “The infection has been stopped from spreading. Further mutation has been halted, but those who’ve been altered by the infection…it’s permanent.”

  Her brain refused to process the devastating information, and her chest tightened at the thought of losing Atlas.

  “I’m sorry.” Morgan dropped her gaze, unable to face Atlas. She foolishly thought she could save him. Instead, because she was stubborn, she’d gotten him infected in the first place. She’d struggled with his indifference when they first met. She didn’t know if she could deal with his hatred now they were mated.

  “Morgan.” When Atlas grabbed her hand, she flinched. “Look at me.”

  She couldn’t.

  She couldn’t bear to see his disappointment.

  “Very well.” He dropped her hand, and it felt like he’d stabbed her in the chest. To her shock, he tugged his shirt over his head, then snatched her hand and placed her palm over their mating mark. “If you won’t listen to what I’m saying, then feel the truth.”

  Her fingers automatically curled in resistance. He placed his hand over hers, threaded their fingers together, then forced her palm to touch the mark. “You told me to live for you. Did you change your mind?”

  “What?” Her head jerked up at the rough, uncertain tone of his voice. “Of course not.”

  “Then feel.”

  She absently brushed her thumb against the defined muscles of his chest, and reluctantly closed her eyes. And was immediately bombarded with his absolute wonder at being selected as her mate. Determination to live with what he considered his deformity surged through him—for her. He never wanted to let her down again, despite the fear that she would find him inferior. Underneath it lay a hunger that stole her breath. He would do anything for her, willing give her his heart and soul for a second chance.

  He considered her his world…if she would just allow him into her life.

  His emotions threatened to tear apart her heart, and she jerked her hand away. Ignoring the way his uncertain expression hardened with rejection, she threw her arms around his neck. “I think you’re perfect exactly the way you are.”

  Atlas very slowly brought his arms around her, releasing a sigh of relief. “What do you say we go home?”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  “You feel guilty about what you did to me.”

  Shade’s comment startled Morgan. She’d been studiously avoiding him. As soon as they exited the temple, instead of stepping into a cave, the room held only a set of stairs carved out of pure rock that seemed to stretch forever upwards.

  “Of course I do,” she snapped.

  “Don’t.” He shrugged when she glanced at him. “Guilt is a useless emotion for beings with our responsibilities and power. Being mortal will be an adjustment, but a temporary one. You paid me back when you sealed the gates of Tartarus. Because your powers were bound, it nearly killed you. Only your bloodline and possibly your pure stubbornness saved you. Anyone else would’ve sacrificed me to save themselves rather than take the risk.”

  Morgan snorted. “No doubt what you consider another useless emotion.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged and looked away, sorrow hovering around him. “Your men would give their lives for you without you even asking. That is a kind of power the gods will never know.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, when Shade passed through a shadow and never emerged. Morgan stopped, then hesitantly peered into the darkness…and found nothing but the cave wall.

  He simply vanished.

  Morgan should have been relieved, but she suspected it wouldn’t be the last time they heard from him. Worse, she just set a onetime demigod loose on Mount Olympus. She hoped she wouldn’t come to regret her decision.

  Morgan glanced back down the stairs, then swore. The men immediately stopped, pulling their blades as they converged on her, and she nearly laughed at their overreaction, but she’d earned her reputation for getting into trouble the honest way…by blundering into it every chance she got.

  “What’s wrong?” Atlas scanned the darkness, searching for the threat.

  “Shade’s gone, and I suspect Ward took off after him.” The guys relaxed, prodding her up the stairs to keep her moving.

  “Maybe it’s for the best. They can stay busy by keeping an eye on each other.” Ascher dismissed them, but Morgan couldn’t let it go so easily, a chill going down her spine at the thought of them concocting something together. The combination would be beyond dangerous.

  “Maybe.” She smiled up at Ascher. “But at least the ass could’ve done was portal us
out with him instead of forcing us to take this never-ending set of stairs.”

  “True.” He gave her a wry smile. “But at least we don’t have to worry about where we would end up this way.”

  Morgan grimaced this time. “True.”

  Ascher brushed his hand against hers, then wove their fingers together, the natural warmth from his skin comforting. Loki determinedly clawed his way up the steps, his face scrunched up in concentration, his butt wiggling before each jump.

  When they reached the top of the summit, a large plateau was spread out before them, an ornate arch and matching pillars were chiseled into the stone, creating an alcove which went nowhere.

  Conscious of the others watching, Morgan squeezed Ascher’s hand and released him, uncomfortable at the attention. Loki jumped onto the platform, sniffed out each corner, then began to jump and chase his tail.

  “Why do you do that?” Kincade scowled and prowled toward her.

  “What?” Morgan tore her attention from the pup and blinked uncertainly.

  His hand shot out, and he grabbed her wrist, bringing her hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “What are you doing?” She twisted out of his hold, glancing uncomfortably at the others.

  “Why do you pull away when one of us touches you?” He crowded closer, and she stepped back until she slammed into the wall at her back. “Do you not like us touching you?”

  “I…you…er…” Morgan bit her tongue, more than a bit flustered by his nearness, but when he backed away, panic gouged its claws in her gut. “It’s not that,” she blurted out, her face heating. “Look, I’m not used to any type of affection, much less showing affection in public.” She shifted her feet, unable to stand still. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

  “What, exactly, makes you uncomfortable?” Kincade edged closer, brushing a finger along her jaw.

  “Ahhhh,” she turned, glancing at the others when he caught her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.