Daimon: Guardians of Hades Series Book 6

by Heaton, Felicity

  It looked a lot like jealousy.

  Because she would rather have six gods fighting at her side?

  Her eyes widened slightly, enough that he noticed and turned away from her.

  Because she had referred to his brothers as strapping.

  It was all right for her to call him strapping, but gods forbid she speak well of his brothers.

  Cass checked on the ladies when another tremor rocked the building and the power she could sense in the air grew stronger. Aiko frantically petted Mister Milos, who was still purring happily, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Mari had closed ranks with Megan, her eyes verging on violet as she stared ahead of her at the door. Megan was rubbing her belly with one hand, worry scored on her face, and in her other was a mobile phone.

  Her thumb shook as she tapped the on-screen keyboard.

  A relieved breath escaped her as she sent the message.

  “It’ll be fine,” Cal said, far too much confidence in his tone. He wasn’t sure either. “They’re just trying to frighten us.”

  “Might I remind everyone that frightening a pregnant woman is a bad thing?” Cass checked on Megan again.

  She was breathing faster now, holding her stomach.

  When she noticed Cass looking at her, she forced a wobbly smile. “I’m peachy.”

  She wasn’t. She was as far from peachy as she could get. She was petrified.

  Something big hit the barrier and everyone fought for balance, Mari clutching Megan and keeping her upright. Cass refused to be rattled by it.

  She gathered her strength.

  Just in case.

  These daemons and goddesses didn’t frighten her.

  Daimon muttered a black curse, drawing her gaze to him. She knew the look on his face, could read it like a book as he glanced at Cal. Things didn’t look good.

  “Stay inside.” He turned to her and the other women as he motioned for Cal to move forwards.

  Cass snorted at that.

  “Stay inside? I don’t think so. I’m not some cowering, weak female.” She looked over at Mari. “Stay inside with the others.”

  Mari levelled a glare on her. “I don’t think so. I’m not some cowering—”

  “Someone has to protect the others.” Cass cut her off, because she didn’t have time for this.

  The sensation of power in the air was growing stronger.

  Or the barrier around the building was growing weaker.

  Which didn’t bear thinking about.

  Daimon stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder, his expression warning her that he was going to argue against her.

  His gaze caught on Megan and he paled, phenomenal pain darkening his eyes, deeper than anything she had seen in them before.

  “Cass,” he said, her name like ambrosia as it rolled off his tongue, flooding her with strength and heat. “Muster the best protective spell you can manage… because one of the wards just went down.”

  Ice cascaded down her spine.

  She began an incantation in her mind, one that would drain her, but might be their best shot at keeping everyone safe, and followed Daimon as he opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch, Cal trailing behind him.

  Cass built the spell, weaving together several different ones, a slave to her need to protect not only the women sheltering behind her.

  She wanted to protect the god striding ahead of her too, his shoulders back and head tipped up, ice glittering on his black gloves as he curled his fingers into fists.

  Cass closed her eyes, centred herself and raised her hands as she uttered the words to cast the spell, the strongest barrier she had ever created. She felt it as it launched into the air, as it hit a point forty feet above her and swept downwards in all directions to form a dome over the house and the grounds, expelling anyone she viewed as a threat, knocking them backwards.

  Her legs turned to jelly beneath her, but she kept her focus on the barrier, poured more strength into it until she was on the verge of collapse.

  The daemons battered it, pressing against it and slashing at the invisible wall, rolling up on it in waves.

  She opened her eyes and pressed her hands forwards, weathering the blows and shoring up the barrier where it began to weaken. Another wave came at it. Followed by another.

  Each of them a coordinated attack.

  As if they were testing it.

  Testing her.

  That feeling only grew when violet-black smoke billowed above the white rendered wall of the mansion grounds, as dark as the ribbed tiles that topped it, and the daemons suddenly disappeared.

  Two female voices trailed into nothing.

  “She is stronger than the others.”

  “She will give us what we need.”

  A shiver tripped down Cass’s back and arms, spreading over her thighs as words whispered in the wind.

  “She will be pleased to hear that.”

  Chapter 12

  Marinda helped Cass into the house, bearing her weight as the witch fumbled each step, her eyes fixed on the ground in a distant stare.

  Daimon trailed after her, obeying the deep need to be close to her, still shaken by the fact she had collapsed and what he had heard.

  She was too pale as Marinda helped her down onto one of the couches, close to Megan.

  Ares appeared, the haste of his teleport and how swiftly he turned disturbing the black ribbons of smoke that tried to cling to him. His fiery gaze scanned the room and the moment he spotted Megan, he was moving, closing the distance between them and sinking to his knees beside her.

  “You okay, sweetheart?” He stroked her cheek as he gazed up at her, his hand trembling, worry written across every line of his face.

  She nodded. “Cass kept us safe.”

  Ares looked at her, gratitude shining in his eyes before he even said, “Thank you.”

  Cass managed a nod and then went back to struggling for air. Daimon stood near the door of the house as the rest of his brothers appeared, staring at her and unsure what to do, torn between going to her and remaining where he was. He wasn’t sure she would appreciate him coddling her in the way Ares fussed over Megan. She was strong, and had reacted badly when he had questioned that strength before.

  Voices filled the tense silence as Cal filled Marek, Valen and Keras, and Caterina and Eva in on what had happened.

  Daimon was glad his brothers had all brought their women to the mansion. He had the feeling it was better they remained here, where they had a better shot at protecting them all. In fact, he was going to propose that everyone move back into the mansion, something that probably wouldn’t go down well with some of his brothers.

  Cass finally lifted her head and her weary eyes settled on him.

  He lifted his hand, stopped himself and lowered it again. Whatever look was on his face, whatever feelings she was reading in him, ones he couldn’t hold back right now or cover up, it drew a shaky smile from her.

  He stared into her eyes, the foolish part of him hoping that she could see that he would do all in his power to protect her, even though she couldn’t be his, was destined for another.

  “I don’t think I’m the first witch they’ve targeted.” She sounded as tired as she looked, her voice weak, tearing at him, increasing the need to go to her and tend to her, even when he wasn’t sure what he could do.

  “I don’t think so either.” He hated the way she looked down at her knees as he said that, how worry creased her brow and she picked at her dress, looking small and vulnerable.

  Darkness rose within him, a snarling and twisted thing that demanded he protect her.

  Roared at him to hunt those who were a threat to her before they could get near her again.

  Ares slowly stood. “How the hell did they breach a ward on the mansion?”

  His older brother stroked Megan’s hair, a constant motion, as if he needed to feel her beneath his fingers to make himself believe that she was safe, there with him.

  Dai
mon could understand why Ares was shaken. The mansion was the one place that should be safe, impenetrable.

  Valen and Cal shrugged at the same time. Sometimes, the similarities between them were frightening. Same athletic build. Same moody personality. Same recklessness. The only thing that had made them stand apart once was the colour of their eyes. Even their hair had been the same golden colour until Eva had decided to dye Valen’s a neon shade of violet.

  Marek was too quiet, and Daimon wasn’t the only one who noticed it.

  Keras twisted the silver band on his thumb around it as his green gaze settled on their brother.

  Marek must have felt the weight of expectation on his shoulders, because he looked at Daimon and then Keras, and said, “The wraith.”

  “What about that bastard?” Daimon snarled, the darkness getting the better of him as it conjured images of Esher in the Underworld, hunting that daemon.

  “Eli stabbed me with his blade. He must have taken my memories as he did with Esher.” Marek looked at Keras, his dark eyebrows furrowing slightly above his earthy eyes as he shoved his hand through the wavy lengths of his short hair, pushing it back. “It was after we changed the wards after Eli penetrated them to save Lisabeta… When we all picked a ward and kept it secret.”

  “Where did you place your ward?” Keras’s deep voice was calm, but held a note of concern that echoed in his eyes.

  “The maple in the south-east corner.”

  Keras looked to Daimon.

  Daimon nodded. “That was the one that went down.”

  “I can pick another ward,” Marek said.

  Keras shook his head and worried his lower lip with the pad of his thumb as his black eyebrows drew down, his green eyes falling to rest on the golden mats beneath his feet. Something was troubling his brother, and he wasn’t the only one who could see it. Ares watched Keras closely, the concern that filled his eyes growing.

  “I will send a Messenger to Father to ask for a new one.” Keras spoke those words slowly, and something dawned on Daimon.

  He was worried about admitting to their father that they had messed something else up, and Daimon couldn’t blame him. As the oldest brother, Keras had taken on the role of leader of their small force, and with that role came the responsibility for everything that went wrong as well as right.

  Hades didn’t look favourably upon failure.

  He had drummed that into all of them from an early age.

  Marek looked at everyone in turn, and Daimon couldn’t recall the last time his older brother had looked as if he felt he had fucked up.

  “Don’t sweat it.” Ares’s deep voice rolled over the room like a calming tide and seemed to set Marek at ease. “Nothing bad happened and it wasn’t your fault. There’s nothing you could have done about it.”

  Keras continued to stare at the mats.

  “We could have changed the ward sooner,” Marek put in.

  Keras finally lifted his head, settling his gaze on Marek. “We could have, but none of us thought to do it. This is on all of us.”

  But Keras would be the one to take the full force of their father’s disappointment and anger.

  Marek looked as if he wanted to say something, but Ares shook his head, and Marek’s face crumpled. Ares was right. Offering to be the one to tell their father about this wouldn’t change the outcome. As far as their father was concerned, Keras was responsible for what happened, and he would lay the blame squarely on his shoulders and his shoulders alone.

  The air in the room turned gloomy, oppressively silent.

  Daimon looked at Cass and Megan, and then back at his brothers. “I think everyone should move into the mansion.”

  That didn’t meet with the resistance he had expected.

  Everyone nodded.

  Well, everyone except Keras.

  “We can layer in new wards, enough to keep the daemons out.” Cal glanced at Keras, who dipped his head this time.

  “I will ask for several.” Keras’s green gaze slid to his left to land on Cass, who was still too pale for Daimon’s liking. “You cast a barrier around this place?”

  She shifted to face him and nodded, plastered on a façade that couldn’t hide her true feelings from Daimon. She was worried. He was worried too. He didn’t want the enemy near her, and the thought that they were after her had him on the verge of losing himself to the darker side of his blood, the protective and possessive side that had come from his father.

  “What other magic can you do?” Keras said.

  Cass stood, waving away Marinda when she tried to help her, and walked on what she probably thought were steady legs towards his brother. In Daimon’s eyes, she looked ready to collapse again, stoking that need to go to her, to make her take his support and not let her push him away as she had with Marinda.

  Now wasn’t the time to be prideful.

  She had taken a hit, was shaken by it, and that was fine. It was okay to be weak sometimes. It didn’t mean she wasn’t strong. No one here would question her strength or think less of her if she let her true feelings show, revealing how badly this had shaken her.

  “Offensive magic, defensive too, like the barrier.” She sounded distant, as if she wasn’t quite there in the room with them.

  Daimon took a step towards her, driven by a need to be close to her, and she looked across at him. “Is there any other magic you can do, anything not classified as offensive or defensive?”

  Her black eyebrows rose, her gaze unfocused as she looked right through him, a thoughtful edge to her expression.

  “You healed Mari.” Cal rubbed Marinda’s arm through her dark orange sweater. “Maybe they want you for that.”

  Cass tensed.

  It was the smallest tightening of her shoulders, but Daimon noticed it.

  “Whatever you just thought, spit it out,” Daimon said as he took a step towards her.

  Her blue eyes shifted to his and she looked as if she wanted to tell him ‘no’, but then she sighed and her shoulders relaxed. “There is magic I researched, but I’ve never performed it before. It’s forbidden. No witch has used such spells in centuries.”

  “What spells?” He didn’t like the feeling of dread that settled in his chest.

  She cast a glance around them all, gauging their reactions. “Necromancy.”

  Shock crossed his brothers’ faces in a wave.

  Cass quickly raised her hands, her palms facing him. “I never attempted it. I only know the theory. What others have done. I’ve only read notes and reports from other witches, centuries-old accounts that are probably more fiction than fact.”

  Cal took a hard step towards her, a storm building in his eyes, the tips of his blond ponytail catching a breeze as he stared at Cass. “Do you think you could restore a soul into a body?”

  Cass’s gaze shifted to Cal and her black eyebrows furrowed, the flicker of emotion in her eyes revealing that she knew the path of Cal’s thoughts just as Daimon did. “Maybe… but I wouldn’t do it. I’m sorry, Calistos. It’s too risky. The chances of that soul coming back… wrong… are too high.”

  Keras reached out and laid a hand on Cal’s shoulder. “We will find Calindria’s soul and find a way to guide it to the Elysian Fields. That will be enough for her. She will be happy.”

  Cal turned on him, his face darkening as the breeze that swirled through the room gained strength. “But if we could bring her back—”

  “No.” Ares cut him off, his voice a deep growl, harder than Daimon had heard it in a long time. “Tampering with her like that… Cass is right. What if something went wrong, Cal?”

  Their youngest brother blanched as the wind suddenly dropped, swallowed hard and looked at them all, his eyebrows furrowed, desperation written in every line of his face. “But…”

  He didn’t seem able to finish that sentence.

  He just stood there, looking between them all, a storm raging in his eyes that slowly abated, leaving his irises blue again.

  He lowered his head
and looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to apologise for.” Keras touched his shoulder again, gripping it gently as he closed the distance between them. “We all want to see her again.”

  Cal nodded. So did everyone else.

  Daimon looked at Cass, studying her, trying to piece together what the enemy wanted with her magic. “So the enemy wants a new necromancer. It’s a good enough theory. The gates are closed to all traffic. The only ones who could perform such a role for our enemy now is a necromancer who happened to be in this world, which would be extremely rare and hard to find, or a witch. But what do they want with one? They want someone to raise the dead?”

  Cass’s eyes slowly widened, a horrified edge filling them as she shook her head, causing her long wavy black hair to brush her bare shoulders. “Not raise the dead. Raise their dead. Necromancy… The magical form of it could hypothetically place the souls the enemy holds in their possession into new physical bodies. It could restore them completely. The necromancer used the souls he held as puppets, but with magic… they might be able to restore them to how they had been… independent beings under their own control.”

  Marek folded his arms across his chest, his dark linen shirt tightening over his muscles. “That would be bad.”

  Everyone murmured in agreement.

  They had been dealing blows to the enemy, weakening them. The last thing they needed was the enemy raising their dead, strengthening their side again.

  “We’ll keep Cass out of the enemy’s hands.” Daimon schooled his features, hiding the dark need to protect her that filled him, but knew he had failed to conceal it when Cass’s beautiful face softened, her eyes warming as she stared into his.

  Keras turned to Cass. “Will you be all right?”

  She looked at his brother and wearily nodded.

  Daimon barely bit back the growl that rolled up his throat, his darker side pushing to the fore as he levelled a glare on his brother. He should have been the one to ask her that question. Instead, he had hidden his worry for her behind a veil, giving another male a chance to be the one who showed concern for her well-being.

  He thought about the letter, about what he had read in it. She was promised to another. What point was there in showing her that he cared about her? He couldn’t afford to grow closer to her if she was only going to end up leaving him for another man. He wasn’t sure he would survive such a blow.