Daimon: Guardians of Hades Series Book 6

by Heaton, Felicity

  Enyo lifted her hand, stopped herself from reaching for Marek’s arm and flexed her fingers.

  “Is there nothing you can do…” She swallowed and steeled her nerves. “Keras can do… to change Hades’s mind?”

  Marek’s rich brown eyes warmed. Because she had dared to speak of Keras for once rather than dancing around things? She was tired of trying to suppress her feelings, tired of letting her fear control her. She needed to know he was going to be all right.

  Marek shrugged, shoved the suitcase aside and dragged an empty one across the bed to him. “I doubt it. You know our father. Hades is set in his ways and his word is absolute.”

  That worried her. If Keras couldn’t convince Hades to allow Olympians to participate in the war, he would be at a disadvantage, and her brother would force her to remain on the sidelines, stopping her from helping him.

  “How is… How does Keras fare?” She curled her fingers into fists at her sides, battling another bout of nerves as she stared at Marek’s broad back, waiting for him to tell her to ask his brother herself.

  “I think he’s feeling the pressure now.” Marek paused halfway through folding a shirt and set it down, concern shining in his eyes as he looked over his shoulder at her. “He’s more distant than usual and he’s decided to remain in Paris rather than come to Tokyo with the rest of us.”

  Fear arrowed through her.

  He would be vulnerable alone.

  “Ares—my brother Ares—he messaged to say he’s trying to change Keras’s mind but you know Keras.” Marek smiled solemnly. “He’s as stubborn as our father.”

  She knew that all too well. “Speak to him. Try to convince him that moving to Tokyo is the wise thing to do. He will listen to you if you all work together. I know it.”

  He sighed, a weary edge to it and his eyes as he scrubbed a hand over his hair. “I’ll try. We’ll try.”

  He frowned and looked down, reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a device. The screen illuminated his face and then darkened, and he lifted his gaze to lock with hers.

  “I have to go. Keras wants a meeting.”

  Enyo tensed, stopping herself as an urge to ask to go with him whipped through her.

  “I’ll speak to him,” Marek said.

  She dipped her head and forced herself to leave, before she did something foolish like teleporting to Tokyo. She landed back on the small terrace, the scent of lilac swirling around her in the warm breeze. Her heart remained heavy as she stared at the distant shimmering gate, and she told herself she was doing the right thing. Her brother would be furious with her if he found her missing.

  Her brother was right too—this wasn’t her fight. Joining the battle now would only result in her brother and Hades being furious with her.

  She plucked a bloom from the ones that hung to her left, running down the column of the pergola to the wall. She lifted it to her nose as she thought about Keras, about how she had stood with him in this very spot once, seemingly a lifetime ago now.

  It had been night, and the full moon had kissed the sea and the city, revealing all to her. The streets and houses had been dotted with the golden glow of torchlight, and the cool breeze had been heavy with the scent of flowers. Laughter had rung in the air, coming from all around her, loudest at her back where her brother had been hosting a grand party to celebrate Anthesteria, a festival focused on wine, and one which most of Olympus used as an excuse to get drunk for three days.

  She had been taking a break from the merriment and had come to the secluded terrace, and Keras had joined her. She had lingered, enjoying his company, and he had spotted the first bloom of the lilac and plucked it for her. When he had tucked it behind her ear and told her the flower suited her, it had become her favourite.

  They had spent the whole night talking, until the sun had broken the horizon and the sound of merriment had been replaced with snoring, among other wicked things, and she had grown tired.

  She turned her back to the city and looked at the marble bench set in a leafy alcove opposite her.

  The very same seat where she had fallen asleep with her head on Keras’s shoulder, his rich masculine scent overshadowing the subtler fragrance of the flowers, sending her into dreams of him.

  Dreams she had hoped would become reality.

  Enyo closed her eyes and shut out the past, switching her focus back to the future because if she didn’t do something, that dream she’d had would never become real.

  Marek’s words troubled her.

  Was Keras trying to lure the enemy out by remaining in Paris, or perhaps goad them? He was strong, but he wasn’t invulnerable. She had witnessed that plenty of times when they had sparred, or when he had fought in the festivities that often took place in the Underworld or Olympus, tests of strength in grand arenas.

  It wasn’t like him to be so reckless.

  She opened her eyes and stared at the bench.

  She had to do something. Her heart screamed that at her.

  For the second time in her life, she was truly afraid.

  Last time, she had feared she would never see Keras again.

  Now she was afraid of facing him.

  Chapter 14

  Cass walked to the couch, waving away Mari as she hurried to help her. She wasn’t an invalid. Her strength was already returning, steadily flowing back into her. She just needed a few moments off her feet.

  Three of the brothers left, leaving Eva and Caterina, and Ares behind. Ares guided Megan to the couch and settled her beside Cass, a wealth of worry in his dark eyes as he looked her over.

  Eva and Caterina fell into conversation in the middle of the room, drifting towards the dining table as they discussed the pros and cons of living in the Tokyo mansion with everyone else. The cons list was far longer than the pros.

  Daimon remained where he was as Cal came to Mari, and they slumped onto the other couch together, facing the wall that separated the TV area from the corridor outside Cal’s room.

  Cass looked down at Megan’s baby bump.

  Tried to imagine herself pregnant.

  She just couldn’t picture it, even when she knew it would happen sooner rather than later. She wasn’t really getting a choice about that. She had put things off for long enough and the coven was getting annoyed with her now. Her time was up.

  Tradition was about to take the reins in her life and there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

  She still wasn’t sure how she felt about it all—putting her life on hold for a year or more, bearing a child for the coven, leaving it there to be raised by them.

  “What’s it like?” Cass had avoided learning about pregnancy, had buried her head in the sand, some part of her believing it would never happen to her.

  Her maternal instincts weren’t exactly strong. Milos was her baby and she doted on him, and she loved Mari with all her heart and would do anything for her. Did that mean she would feel some degree of hurt when she gave up her child?

  Megan settled her hands on her stomach as Ares kneeled before her, rubbing her thighs through her jeans. “I’m sick more than I’m not. I’m tired all the time. I get awful sleep. I have the weirdest cravings.”

  Ares grinned at Cass. “She really does.”

  Doting idiot.

  He looked as if the entire world revolved around the woman before him.

  “Can I… I mean… I know some women don’t like it… but could I touch it?” Cass glanced at Daimon as she asked that. A mistake.

  A thought pinged into her head.

  Would he ever look at her the way Ares looked at Megan?

  Did she want him to?

  Her heart whispered the answer.

  She did.

  “Sure.” Megan shifted her hands aside.

  Cass gingerly placed her palm against the top of Megan’s belly. Power curled through her, emanating not from Megan but from the baby growing inside her. She focused on it and a smile teased her lips against her will.

  “She’
s strong,” she whispered, glancing at Megan.

  Who went awfully still.

  Megan’s chocolate eyes slowly widened and edged towards Ares. “She?”

  Ares teared up like a fool. “A little girl.”

  Megan choked on what Cass hoped was a happy sob, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “Oh gods, you didn’t know,” Cass blurted. Was it too late to backpedal and say she always referred to babies with the female pronoun?

  Ares grinned.

  Megan laughed, a little hysterically. “I told you there was more than one sex.”

  Ares ran a shaky hand over his overlong tawny hair, his smile fading. “Shit. A little girl.”

  He looked as if he didn’t know whether to be deliriously happy or absolutely terrified.

  Megan’s face fell. “We’ll keep her safe.”

  And it dawned on Cass.

  Ares feared his daughter would suffer the same horrible fate that his sister had.

  “She is strong.” Cass palmed Megan’s belly. “Very strong. Forged by flame like her father, but she will be kind-hearted like her mother.”

  Caterina and Eva joined the group, all smiles. Calistos moved in to crowd Megan with Mari, and Cass turned to look at Ares.

  Her gaze caught on Daimon.

  He still stood in the same place, his eyes holding that pain she hated seeing in them as he stared at Megan and Ares.

  Why?

  It wasn’t because he couldn’t touch someone the way Ares was touching Megan, because he could touch her if he would only allow himself that pleasure.

  So what was holding him back? Why did he look so hurt as he watched her touching Megan’s belly, when everyone else looked so ridiculously happy about the situation?

  He turned his cheek to her and walked into the garden without a word.

  Cass watched him go, the joy of the moment fading into concern that ate away at her, had her filling with a need to rise and follow him.

  She pushed onto her feet and trailed after Daimon, following the steppingstones that wound between the manicured pine topiary in the central courtyard. Moonlight bathed the garden beyond, shining on Daimon where he sat on a boulder on the far side of the koi pond.

  Cass stilled and watched him.

  He stared at his bare upturned palm, his gaze distant. Miniature ice sculptures formed on his hand. Was he aware of the shapes he was making with his power? He looked as if he was staring straight through them, lost in thought and unaware of the world around him.

  She edged closer, proving that to herself when he didn’t stir, not even when she reached the arched wooden bridge that spanned the pond.

  The air was colder here, had her breath fogging in front of her face, and she looked at Daimon’s feet, unsurprised to see frost flowers blooming across the boulder. Whatever he was thinking about, it was upsetting him.

  The ice melted and then reformed, taking on the shape of a woman.

  Her?

  The belly of the curvy figure swelled.

  Megan?

  No emotion touched his face as he ran a lone finger over the belly of the woman, but Cass could feel the turmoil beating in his heart.

  A sorrowful edge crossed his features as he continued to touch the ice sculpture, as he lifted his hand and stroked her face. There was affection in that caress.

  His mouth moved, his whisper so low she couldn’t hear what he was saying to the woman. In response, the ice sculpture shifted, touching her stomach first and then extending her arms towards Daimon.

  His shoulders tensed beneath his turtleneck and he drew a shaky breath and then released it, shuddering as he did so.

  He whispered something else.

  The statue shattered, raining shards of ice like diamonds onto the rocks at his feet.

  She should go.

  She knew that deep in her heart, but that same heart needed to know the things Daimon wouldn’t tell her, the things he had buried deep—the cause of the barrier he kept lifting between them.

  The source of the pain that often shone in his eyes.

  Cass told herself again to go, not to intrude when he clearly needed some time alone.

  But she couldn’t bring herself to move.

  Couldn’t ignore the burning need to know why he was sitting alone with an ice sculpture of a pregnant woman.

  “You’re a very talented artist,” she whispered, afraid of disturbing him, unsure how he would react.

  He didn’t look at her.

  Didn’t say anything.

  “Is it someone you know?” She braved a step closer and rubbed her arms to keep the chill off them as the temperature dropped another few degrees.

  He barely dipped his head in response, his ice-blue eyes fixed on the melting ice fragments around his feet. She had never seen someone look so alone. So lonely. So in need of someone to hold them together.

  Cass wanted to be the one to reach out and hold him, to wrap her arms around his strong shoulders and ask him to tell her about the pain he was holding caged in his heart.

  All this time around her, he had looked strong, almost invincible, even when pain had shone in his eyes. Now, he looked so vulnerable, and she couldn’t bear it.

  “Is she waiting for you back home?” she murmured.

  “No.” A shaky inward breath. “Yes.”

  Which was it?

  She looked at the ice littered around his feet and it dawned on her. His home was the Underworld. The woman was dead. That was why she was there, waiting for him still.

  Her experience of consoling people boiled down to taking care of Mari when they had lost Eric, and Eric when Mari’s mother had died during childbirth. She wasn’t sure she had done a good job on either of those occasions. She wanted to console Daimon, but feared she would only make things worse.

  That fear held her back, had her keeping her distance when all she really wanted to do was hold him.

  She looked down at the melting ice. Had Daimon’s woman died in childbirth?

  “She was beautiful.” Cass wasn’t sure whether hearing that from her would make him feel better or worse.

  He was silent for so long that she was on the verge of leaving him alone when he finally spoke.

  “It wasn’t a true representation of her.”

  Maybe the woman hadn’t been so beautiful.

  He lifted his head, his pale eyes hollow and cold, bleak and edged with darkness. “She wasn’t showing when daemons killed her and our unborn child.”

  Before she could ask about it, before she could even think to reach for his hand to comfort him, he was gone, only swirling black smoke left behind.

  Twin emotions filled her heart. Jealousy that he had loved this woman and still mourned her, clearly wished she was still alive and he’d had the family they had been building together.

  Sorrow that he had gone through something so terrible, still lived with the pain it had caused, allowing it to fester inside him.

  Gravel crunched off to her right and she looked there.

  The lights from the mansion threw Marek’s bulky figure into silhouette, stealing his features from her until he drew close enough that the slender moonlight revealed them to her.

  “Keras wants to talk about potentially closing another gate.” His dark eyes slid to the lingering ribbons of smoke. “Where’s Daimon?”

  “He left.” She meant to leave it at that, but then she blurted, “What happened to Daimon’s wife?”

  Marek’s dark eyebrows knitted hard. “Wife? Daimon has never been married. There was Penelope. She was killed before Father sent us here. Why?”

  She told herself not to say anything more.

  Her mouth moved anyway. “I found him making ice sculptures, one of them was of her, I think. She was pregnant, right?”

  Shock danced across Marek’s face. “Pregnant?”

  She nodded and inwardly cursed. How many times tonight was she going to reveal things that were unknown or clearly a secret in this case? She needed to learn
to watch her mouth.

  “You never knew,” she said.

  Marek shook his head. “None of us did. Daimon never told us. He’s never spoken about what happened. Penelope lived in the mortal world, and I knew he’d been seeing her, but nothing about his behaviour ever led me to believe things were serious between them. He would go and visit her from time to time, leaving weeks between each trip. Normally, it was when he grew bored of the females who regularly visited Father’s estate. I always thought he had just been mixing things up.”

  Mixing things up? Was Marek right and Daimon hadn’t been serious about Penelope? Maybe his brother was wrong. Daimon had clearly loved this woman, mourned her still, and Cass had figured out Penelope was the reason he kept guarding his heart, refusing her advances. He had said his heart belonged to another.

  “He never seemed serious about her?” Cass couldn’t stop that question from leaving her lips, need to know more about Daimon and this woman pushing her to discover all Marek knew about the two of them.

  Marek shrugged. “Perhaps. Towards the end. Maybe in the month or so before her death.”

  After Penelope must have told Daimon she was pregnant.

  Someone called to Marek.

  “I’ll make excuses for Daimon. Keep this between us?” Cass didn’t want the others discovering the things Daimon wanted to keep secret. It was his place to tell his brothers, not hers.

  Marek nodded and went back inside.

  Cass lingered on the bridge, her gaze lowering to the boulder where Daimon had sat. She replayed what she had seen, how he had looked at her.

  This was the reason he took care of the children in Hong Kong. Another secret he kept from his brothers.

  A shiver chased through her.

  Beneath his frosty exterior, there was a warm heart, and it was broken—shattered just like the ice sculpture.

  And all this time she had been pushing him, hadn’t taken his rejections seriously, had kept prodding and poking him and trying to tear down his defences, unable to believe there might be a reason other than the manifestation of his power behind why he didn’t want to get involved with her.

  A reason that had been festering inside him all this time.