Sam let out a sound of extreme pain. “Y’all are all so gross.”
With an exaggerated gesture, Lia nodded her complete agreement.
And still the demon convulsed and gagged. Wheezed and sputtered.
Then burst apart.
In unison, everyone stepped back from the spot where he’d been as if afraid that, too, was contagious.
“Holy shit,” Dev breathed.
Fury took Lia’s hand. “My freakin’ giddy aunt.”
Fang and Vane toed the smoking remains of the demon before they swept their gaze around the room.
“Savitar?” Vane called.
Fang scowled. “Thorn?”
No one answered. His features pale, Fang met Max’s gaze. “Have you ever seen or heard of anything like this?”
Before he could answer, Nala gasped in alarm. Then she cried out in pain.
Sera stepped toward her. “Basilinna?”
She held her hand up to show that it was slowly turning gray. “I think I’m returning to stone … you?”
Horrified, Seraphina examined her own body. “I don’t think so.”
Her breathing ragged, Nala shook her head. “What is this?” Shrieking, she vanished, and took her Amazons with her.
Fang and Vane turned to the Arcadians, but without their demon and Amazon warriors, their bluster faded.
“This isn’t over,” their leader promised. “I, too, am a Kattalakis Lykos and I demand the satisfaction of seeing the one who cursed our race pay for his crimes. I’ll be back!”
And with that, they were gone.
Max noticed that Sera was paler than she’d been. “Seramia?”
“I don’t feel right, either.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “It’s so strange.” Her legs buckled.
Max swept her up in his arms and teleported her from the bar, back to Peltier House and into the infirmary. “Carson!”
The Gerakian appeared instantly. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. She’s sick or something.”
Max stepped back so that Carson could examine her. Time dragged as he worried his lip and waited anxiously for the doctor to tell them both that she was fine. That it was just exhaustion from the unbelievably long day they’d had.
That was what he expected.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t what Carson did.
“This is weird. It’s like the spell that Kessar unlocked is reversing itself.”
Max’s breath caught in his throat as fear went through him. No … Carson was wrong. He had to be. “What?”
“She’s slowly turning back into stone.”
In that moment, he felt as if all the wind had been violently knocked out of his body. “Bullshit! Don’t fuck with me, Carson.”
He pulled the stethoscope from his neck. “I’m not.” Patting Sera gently on the shoulder, he offered her a sad, sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry. I have no idea how to reverse this.”
Her eyes glistened as she met Max’s gaze, but she managed to blink her tears back. “I should have known the gods wouldn’t allow us to go free. We were meant to be punished for riding against them. Let’s face it, they’re not exactly known for their mercy.”
Max sank down on his knees in front of her as a thousand emotions ransacked him at once. But the one that hit him the hardest was fear and anguish. The love that didn’t want to lose her again.
“I can’t let you go. Not again.”
She brushed her hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I should never have followed Nala in her war against the gods. She was so sure the Sumerians would take over Greece.” Laughing bitterly, she winced. “Stupid bitch never backed a winning side in any conflict.”
“Why did you ride against them?”
“I don’t know. I was angry at the gods for what they’d done to us. What they’d done to our children. I wanted the blood of Apollo and Artemis for creating our races. The heads of the Fates for condemning us. It was a suicide run. Yet it made me feel powerful, as if I had some control over my destiny. How stupid is that?”
“It wasn’t stupid. Little arrogant and a lot short-sighted. But not stupid.” He laid his head in her lap and held her tight. “I can’t go back.” He pierced her with a furious glower. “I won’t.”
“There’s nothing we can do.”
“Yes, there is.”
Seraphina went cold at the tone he used. Foreboding sent chills over her entire body. “What are you thinking?”
Biting his lower lip, he swallowed hard. “Stay here with Carson. I’ll be right back.”
“Maxis!”
He didn’t listen.
As he vanished, she tried to stop him. She jumped off the bed and grabbed for his arm.
It was too late. He was gone without a single trace. Only a slight stir in the air gave any hint that he’d been there at all. Terrified, she met Carson’s gaze that mirrored her own concerns. “What is he doing?”
The doctor shook his head. “I have no idea. But I’m thinking it can’t be good.”
“Yeah. I second that.”
* * *
Max hesitated as he did something he knew was all kinds of stupid. The kind of stupid that if one of his brothers had done it, he’d have beaten them senseless. Thrown water on them to revive them.
Then beaten them more.
But he couldn’t think of any other way to spare his dragonswan from her fate. And if he didn’t move fast, it would be too late.
With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and ignored the pain of his wounds. He summoned every ounce of dragon’s breath inside him and teleported from Sanctuary to the Gates of Samothraki. While the humans in this time and place saw nothing but the jagged remains of a bygone era, he knew where the opening to a most sacred place lay. Much like the gateways to Avalon and Kalosis, it shimmered only in the faintest heartbeats right at dusk and dawn. So quickly that it was easily missed or dismissed as a trick of the eye.
But this was one of the last places where his brethren slept in the modern world.
And this was one of his last remaining siblings.
“Falcyn?”
Nothing but the evening sea breeze answered him. Max picked his way through the ruins of the ancient temple complex where mankind had once paid tribute to the gods of old. Where they’d once made offerings to his kind, hoping to win their cooperation and affection.
Things today were so different.
“Damn it, Falcyn! If you can hear me, answer!”
“I don’t answer to humans. If you want to speak to me, pick the right language.”
Max laughed bitterly as he switched over to drakyn. “I don’t have time for you to be an asshole. I need you, brother.”
Something struck him hard across his chest and knocked him flying. By the pain of it, and the distance he flew before he slammed into the ground, he’d say it must have been Falcyn’s barbed tail.
With a pain-filled groan, he pushed himself up. “Feel better?”
“Not really. When I slit you from asshole to appetite, then I should rally emotionally.”
This time when he attacked, Max caught the blow. Using his force field, he blocked and sent it back at his older brother. “Please, Falcyn … please.”
The pressure against him lessened.
Then it vanished. Max relaxed, only to realize too late that it was a trick. Falcyn materialized at his back and caught him in a vicious headlock. He choked him hard as he held Max against his body.
“Behold what is left of my island because of you, brother. You brought those Greek bastards here and I hate you for it!”
Yeah, okay, this might have been a massive mistake. He’d hoped a few thousand years would have mellowed his brother’s wrath.
Apparently, Falcyn needed a few thousand more.
“I’m sorry. I had nowhere else to go.”
“And I have nothing more to say to you.”
With no choice, Max turned on him and flipped him. “Listen to me! I don’t want to fight you.�
�
But a fight it was. Falcyn came after him like a starving dog in a buffet line that was after the last pork chop. Damn, he’d forgotten how hard his brother could hit. With no choice, he transformed to a dragon. It was the only way to survive and he didn’t really want to kill his brother.
Well …
Theoretically. However, if Falcyn didn’t come to his senses soon, Max might change his mind. He didn’t need his brother alive to claim what he was after. Only his conscience required a breathing Falcyn.
Oh dear gods, really? Suddenly, Illarion was between them in his dragon body, pushing them apart. Stop it! Both of you!
Falcyn spun around, trying to sting him one more time with his tail.
Max caught it with his talons and bit it so hard, Falcyn yelped.
Illarion glared at him. Was that necessary?
Max released his tail. “Little bit.”
With an irritable growl, Falcyn shot fire at him.
Illarion froze it with his powers. He glared at Falcyn. We are down to the last four of our house. Can you please not cull our lineage any more?
“Then you’d best get him out of my sight.”
Falcyn …
“I mean it, Illy. I’m not in the mood.” He lumbered off toward his gate.
“I need a dragonstone, Falcyn. My children and swan will die without it.”
Falcyn froze. “You dare to ask me for that?”
“You’re the only one left who has one.”
Falcyn turned to pin each of them with a fierce, stern glower. “And I really don’t give a fuck. Go home. Both of you. I never want to see you again.”
With those cold words spoken, he vanished between the gates.
Stunned, Max stared after him. “Are you serious?”
I’m sorry, Max.
Unable to believe this, he laughed bitterly. “I knew you were selfish and cold, Fal, but this … Mom would be proud to know how much you take after her. I wish I’d killed you when I had the chance, you bastard!”
Stop, Max. You know why he feels this way.
Yeah, sure. Like everyone else, he blamed Max for things Max hadn’t wanted. For things he couldn’t help. That he’d done everything to avoid.
Now Sera and his children would pay for it.
Max ached with the weight of his guilt and pain. It wasn’t right. He didn’t mind carrying the burden of his punishment. He was used to it. But he couldn’t stand for the blowback to hit his family.
Not even Falcyn.
But there was nothing he could do. His heart broken that he’d failed, he led Illarion back to Sanctuary so that he could spend whatever time he had left with his wife before the gods returned her to a cold, dead statue.
* * *
Medea hesitated outside her parents’ bedroom as a bad feeling went through her at the uncharacteristic silence that greeted her. Not that the sounds she normally heard whenever she ventured here at this hour were comforting, far from it, but …
“Mom? Dad?”
The door opened by its own volition.
Even more wary, she slid her hands to her weapons, ready to attack whatever threat might be waiting in the large, candlelit room. With its covers rumpled, the king-sized four-poster bed was empty. On one side, the drapes were pulled away as if it’d been vacated quickly.
Then she heard the faint telltale sound of sickness from the bathroom.
“We’re in here,” her father called.
Still not sure this wasn’t a trick, Medea moved quickly, yet cautiously toward the retching sounds.
When she reached the door that was slightly ajar, she pushed it wider and froze in complete shock.
Barely dressed, her mother was on the floor sick, while her father held her. His short black hair was tousled, and his handsome face contorted by worry. Someone, no doubt her father, had braided her mother’s long, blond hair to keep it out of her way while she was ill.
Both of them were pale and shaking.
Terrified, Medea rushed closer to them. “What’s going on?”
Stryker swallowed hard before he answered. “I don’t know. She woke up gagging. And has been sick for over an hour now.” He adjusted the cool cloth on her mother’s head.
Since Daimons and their brand of demon couldn’t get sick, in theory, or pregnant, this couldn’t be good. Medea knelt down beside her mother. “Matera?”
With a greenish cast to her skin, her mother placed a tender hand to Medea’s cheek and tried to smile. “I’ll be fine, little one. I just need a minute.”
But she could tell by the fear in her father’s eyes that this was worse than her brave mother was letting on.
“Did you need something?” her father asked.
She let out a frustrated sigh. “I hate to burden you with anything else.…”
He arched a brow.
“Kessar’s returned to the playing field. My spy at Sanctuary just sent word that he has the Emerald Tablet in hand, and has awakened the Scythian Riders to come for you.”
Her mother made a sound of supreme pain. “I hate those bitches. I should have ripped out Nala’s throat when I had the chance.”
Only her mother could muster that much hatred and venom in that condition. But then, that was what Medea loved best about Zephyra. She was a fighter to the bitter end.
Her father laughed at the threat. “He’s coming for me?”
Medea nodded. “And he wants Max.”
“The dragon?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” her father asked with a frown.
Before she could speak, there was another knock on their door.
Medea rose. “I’ll see who it is.” She teleported to the door, intending to brush off whoever was there. Yet as soon as she opened it and saw her second-in-command and best friend, Davyn, she knew something was wrong.
He had the same greenish cast to his skin and her handsome, lovely friend looked as ill as her mother. And like her parents, his blond hair was tousled all over his head—something Davyn never allowed to happen.
“What’s wrong?”
He braced his hand against the frame as he struggled to breathe. “There’s some kind of illness spreading through our ranks.” As he started to elaborate, he broke off into a fit of coughing. “It’s as if we have a plague.”
An even worse feeling went through her at those words. Whenever someone mentioned the words “plague” and “Daimon,” only one name came to mind.…
Apollo.
And that rat bastard just happened to be in residence.
Terrified she was right, but really, really hoping she wasn’t, she moved toward Davyn. “C’mon, baby, let me get you to bed.”
He pulled back from her. “Not that I wouldn’t appreciate the help, but I don’t want you to catch whatever hell this is. Besides, Stryker would gut me if I gave it to you. And you would, too.”
She snorted at his sick sense of humor. “Only you could be that funny and that ill simultaneously. Go on with you, before I beat you anyway. Just for good measure.”
Offering her a weak smile, he vanished.
Medea took a moment to check on her mom and dad again.
Her giant, muscular father had her mother cradled in his lap like a small child. Zephyra appeared so tiny and frail, two things Medea wouldn’t normally apply to a woman who was fierce and strong beyond measure.
He cupped her mother’s face with his massive paw of a hand while he rocked her gently and kept her head tucked protectively beneath his chin. His obvious love choked Medea and brought tears to her eyes. For all her father’s faults, he did adore her mother.
And her.
Sensing her presence, he caught her gaze. “Who was it?”
“Davyn. I’m going to check on something and then I’ll update you.”
“I trust you, daughter.”
As she started to leave, he stopped her.
“Medea?”
“Yes, Father?”
“Love you.”
F
or a full minute, she couldn’t move. While she knew he felt that way, he didn’t normally say it. Like her mother, her father was a fierce, violent creature. A ruthless Daimon of action, not affection. The fact that he felt compelled to say that worried her even more.
“Love you, too.” And as she withdrew, he heard him doing the last thing she ever expected.
He whispered a prayer to Apollymi to help cure her mother’s illness.
Yeah, that was scary.
And ironically, that was where she was headed. If anyone should have a clue about this, surely the ancient Atlantean goddess of destruction might know something.
Medea teleported from their home to the palace on the hill where Apollymi resided with her Charonte guards. Since it was late, she wasn’t sure where the goddess might be. During the day, which was as dark as night in this hell realm known as Kalosis, the goddess was normally found in her garden.
Medea wasn’t sure if Apollymi slept or what she did at night. Truthfully, she’d never given it much thought. Though now that she did, Apollymi must be lonely. She kept herself apart from the Daimons who worshiped her. Apart from the Charonte demons who guarded her, and there was no cable TV here. The curse that imprisoned her in this realm prevented her from visiting her son, Acheron, or from leaving this place.
What did the goddess do?
It definitely wasn’t crochet or play Parcheesi.
Medea hesitated in the great hall of the black marble palace. “Hello?” That seemed like the safest way to announce her presence without irritating the dangerous goddess too much.
A tall Charonte female appeared by her side. With long green hair that matched her eyes, she had yellow-orange skin and dark orange horns and wings. “Yes?”
“It’s all right, Sabine. I’m sure she’s here to ask after a cure for her mother. You’re excused for the night. Go see to your wee ones.”
Turning, the Charonte gave a slight bow to the ever graceful Atlantean goddess. “Yes, akra.”
Like a silent wraith, Apollymi glided out of the shadows. Her long white-blond hair floated around her lithe body, and was a stark contrast for her black gown. Her swirling silver eyes filled with compassion, she approached Medea. “I heard your father’s plea. What’s going on?”
Medea hesitated. This was the Atlantean Destroyer. A goddess of utter ruthlessness and destruction who had massacred her entire pantheon and family …
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