Tempted

Chapter 22

Casey’s eyes flew open wide. On a gasp she rolled out from under Theron’s arm and lurched from the bed.

“Meli?” Groggy, Theron pushed up on his elbow and blinked Casey’s way.

The first rays of dawn shone through the high-arching window of their suite in the castle, cascading over his rumpled hair, the dark whiskers on his jaw, his broad, bare, and muscular chest. His eyes were still sleepy, the lines on his face a harsh reminder that even in sleep he hadn’t found peace. Exhaustion was wearing on him, and since he hadn’t slept more than two hours since Isadora had gone missing, Casey had pulled out all the stops and lured him to bed with the promise she would ease at least a little of his anxiety first. Truth be told, she’d succeeded in easing them both, for a little while at least, and afterward Theron had finally fallen asleep in her arms, just as she’d wanted. But now…

“Meli?” he asked again, sitting upright on the white silk sheets. Confusion cleared from his eyes and the focused intensity she was used to seeing from the leader of the Argonauts returned to his features.

Her pulse slowed as she looked at him, as she took in the dimly lit room around her with its four-poster bed, lush rugs, and velvet curtains. Damn it. The hallucination, dream…whatever the hell she’d just experienced had killed their restful mood.

“I—”

“Casey!”

The sound of Callia’s voice in the living room, at this hour of the morning, brought both their heads around.

Casey’s heart rate shot up again. And one thought registered. The king. God, not now. Not with Isadora missing. Casey darted a look at Theron and saw the worry she felt reflected back at her. She reached for her robe from the end of the bed and headed for the door.

“Hold on, meli.”

By the time she pulled the double doors open, Callia was already across the living room, her hand lifted to knock on the bedroom door. She wore baby blue silk pajamas, the cuffs of the pants brushing her bare feet, the sleeves falling to her knuckles. Behind her, Zander’s face was pale and drawn, and from his twisted sweats and rumpled hair it was apparent his much-needed few hours of sleep were also long gone.

“The king?” Casey asked, her worry overriding everything else.

“What?” Callia’s brows dropped low. “No. He’s fine. I mean, I’m sure he’s fine. That’s not why I’m here. I—”

Relief was swift and consuming. And then Casey thought of the dream and dread spiraled in like a twister.

Casey reached for her sister’s hands. “You felt it too.”

“Yes,” Callia breathed, gripping Casey’s hands. “You did as well?”

Casey nodded.

“Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?” Theron asked.

“I vote for that,” Zander muttered at Callia’s back.

Casey’d almost forgotten about the males in the room. She turned toward her husband. “I don’t know. At first I thought it was a nightmare. It was so strong it pushed me right out of bed. But now I’m not so sure. I thought I felt—”

“A jolt,” Callia finished. “And then a voice. It sounded like…”

As Callia’s words trailed off, Casey looked back into her sister’s wide frightened eyes, at the wild and tousled hair framing Callia’s perfect face, at the stark reality mirrored back at her. One look and Casey knew the nightmare hadn’t been a nightmare at all.

“Isadora’s voice. You heard Isadora.”

“Yes,” Callia finished on a whisper. “Scared and alone and hurt. Casey, I’m starting to think I’m going crazy.”

“Not crazy,” Casey said. “I heard her too. She was calling out to us.”

“Where?” Theron asked, excitement reverberating in his words as he stepped up next to Casey. “Where is she?”

They all knew this was the first real lead they’d had in over a week. Of course, Casey and Callia had tried repeatedly to use their link as the Horae to contact Isadora but nothing had happened, and the weaker they became the less likely they’d be any help. Now though, if there was a chance Isadora was reaching for them the way they were reaching for her…

“I don’t know,” Callia said. “Before, when Atalanta had Max and we tried to find them, we had the Orb to direct our energy. And we were all three together. This time—”

“This time we know more.” Casey squeezed Callia’s hands. “Touch and focus, remember? It’s how we each use our gifts. We direct that, and then we focus on Isadora.”

“And if it backfires?”

Callia was worried Atalanta would be able to see what they had planned again, like last time. The difference now was that they had nothing planned. They needed to find Isadora first. “Do we have another option?”

Callia’s eyes held hers, darkened with understanding. “No.”

“Thea,” Zander started, but his worried voice faded to nothing as Casey closed her eyes and homed in on Isadora.

The Horae marking on her lower back began to pulse. The room spun and then she felt herself flying across space and time. Darkness pressed in, illuminated by tiny white lights all across the inky canvas like a thousand stars upon the heavens. She squeezed Callia’s hands tighter, felt her sister’s presence, and called out to Isadora with her mind. And was jolted by another sharp stab to the heart, this time stronger than the one that had propelled her out of bed.

I thought you’d never hear me.

Isadora. They’d reached her.

The Fate said balance, but I didn’t really believe her. I’m just…I’m so happy I found you.

Casey had no idea what Isadora was rambling about. She was just thankful her sister was still alive. We’ve been so worried, Isa.

Are you all right? Callia asked. Where are you? Tell us how to get to you.

I…I’m fine. Tired and weak but not hurt. I…I don’t know where I am. It’s cold here. And dark. And there are daemons everywhere. But neither of you can come for me. That’s what I needed most to tell you. Her voice hitched. It’s not about me anymore. Not even about us. It’s bigger than that. We can’t give Atalanta what she wants. Whatever you do, don’t follow Demetrius. Don’t let him bring you to me. He…

The sob that caught in Isadora’s throat was too much for Casey. What did Demetrius do? Did he hurt you, Isa?

Not physically, no. Isadora sniffled. He…he’s just not what everyone thinks.

“Oh, gods, Gryphon was right,” Callia whispered.

“Son of a bitch,” Theron muttered from somewhere close.

Isa, think, Casey said. Has anyone said anything, anything at all, about where they’re holding you?

No…nothing. I…I’m so sorry I’m not strong enough to get out of this on my own.

We’ll find a way, Isa, Casey said, her own voice catching. Do you hear me? Whatever you do, don’t give up hope. We’ll—

I have to go. Fear filled Isadora’s words. She’s looking for me. I don’t want her to know we’ve been in contact. I love you both. I wish we’d had more time. Remember what I said. Please don’t come for me.

Isadora, wait. Callia’s fingers tightened against Casey’s.

Isa?

Silence.

Casey’s lashes lifted and she looked into Callia’s worried eyes. But before she could turn and tell Theron what they’d discovered, the main door to their suite burst open and a member of the Executive Guard stumbled across the threshold.

“What in Hades is the meaning of this?” Theron asked.

“Sir.” The guard’s flustered eyes darted to Casey and Callia across the room. “My ladies, apologies.” His gaze swung back to Theron and excitement filled his voice when he said, “We’ve got him. He came across the portal not more than thirty minutes ago. We’ve got the bastard. And he was carrying this.”

He opened his palm to reveal the earth element, a shining diamond marked with the Titan symbol, the likes of which Casey had never seen before.

Callia gasped, and Zander moved in next to her for a better view. But what held Casey’s undivided attention wasn’t the gem or even the power she felt radiating from the guard’s hand. It was the knowledge Demetrius was back. And he was the only person in the world who could lead them to Isadora.

“Where in the bloody hell is he?”

Voices echoing down the dark staircase brought Demetrius’s head up. Slowly, he pushed up from where he’d been sitting on the cold floor, leaning back against the stone wall, every muscle in his body aching as he waited for freedom.

The blackness inside rippled and rolled. When he got out of this blasted cell—after he found Isadora and brought her home—those fucking guards who’d tossed him in this hellhole were going to wish they’d never been born.

Heavy boots clomped on the stairs. Keys jangled and an argument with several participants broke out. He strained to listen, but his ears were still ringing and the pounding in his head made it hard to concentrate. More than a week on that miserable island, without anything substantial to eat and no decent sleep, had taken its toll. He was weaker than he’d realized. He couldn’t call up a spell to spring the lock on these bars and he couldn’t even hold his own against four measly guards.

Isadora. He had to get to Isadora. He had to keep it together long enough to find the others and…

The cell door swung open. He looked up just in time to see Theron lunge for him.

“You motherfucking son of a bitch!” Theron’s fist plowed into Demetrius’s jaw, slamming him against the wall.

“Theron!” someone screamed.

Stars fired off in Demetrius’s vision but he didn’t have time to defend himself. The leader of the Argonauts grabbed Demetrius by the arms as if he were nothing but a rag doll, pulled him forward, and slammed him back again. “Where is she?”

“Theron, stop this right now!” Casey’s voice echoed in the room.

Darkness edged Demetrius’s vision as Theron’s fingers dug into the meat of his arms, sending blinding pain ricocheting to his head.

“Theron. Skata. He’s not going to tell you where she is if you kill him.”

Demetrius’s gaze swung out and he saw Zander standing a good four feet back, looking as thin and weak as Demetrius felt. Then Casey, Theron’s bride, next to him, worry and fear awash on her face. Demetrius’s vision blurred but he shook his head to clear it, picked out Cerek and Phin behind her, and finally Titus standing outside the bars of the cell, watching the entire scene with a Man, you’re a dumbshit look in his hazel eyes.

Two thoughts got through Demetrius’s fuzzy brain. One, Theron was ready to tear him to pieces. And two, no one was about to stop him.

The guard’s superior voice echoed back through Demetrius’s mind and he realized in a rush they blamed him for Isadora’s disappearance. Hadn’t even once considered the fact there could be an alternate explanation.

The blackness erupted inside him, bubbled up from the depths of his soul where he’d always known true evil lurked. These weren’t his friends, never really had been, and he’d been seriously mistaken if he thought they gave a rat’s ass about him. They’d never believe him if he told the truth. He could see that now in the deeply carved lines of Theron’s face, leaving Demetrius with an oh-so-fucking-clear picture of reality. His reality.

“Where is she?” Theron asked again from between clenched teeth.

Demetrius didn’t answer. Only stared at the leader of the Argonauts and cleared his mind of everything. Everything they could use against him or twist into their own vile truths.

“If you don’t tell me where she is right now—”

“He’s not gonna tell you,” Titus said from outside the cell. “You’re wasting your time, Theron. He’s put up a block.”

Fury erupted in Theron’s eyes. His fingers tightened around Demetrius’s arms. But it was Casey’s voice that stopped the guardian from ripping Demetrius’s limbs off.

“Please, Demetrius,” she said in a weak voice. “Please just tell us where Isadora is.”

His gaze strayed to Casey, and he saw then that the king’s half-breed daughter was pale and thin as well. As pale and thin as Isadora had been when he’d last seen her.

“We saw where you live,” Theron said, dragging Demetrius’s attention back to his face. “We saw your little lookout room, you sick fuck. We know you’ve had this planned for a long-ass time. And thanks to what Gryphon told us about your materas, we now know why. If you want to live to ever see the sun again, you’d better tell us where she is right this minute.”

They’d been to his flat. They’d seen his pictures. And they knew Atalanta was his mother. Oh yeah, they’d already tried and convicted him. He wasn’t getting out of this one.

“Shit,” Titus muttered. “He knows where she is, but he’s not going to tell us.”

Menace erupted over Theron’s face. “I ought to—”

“Not if you ever want to see her again,” Demetrius finally said. Theron’s eyes went wide with rage, but Demetrius didn’t back down. “Now take your fucking hands off me.”

The others must have read the fury on Theron’s face, because they each moved forward, ready to pull Theron back. But the leader of the Argonauts easily shook off their arms. He released his hold but he didn’t look away. “You sonofabitch no-good traitor. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Demetrius swiped at his bloody lip. “Not everything’s about you, Theron. The sooner you figure that out, the better off we’ll all be.” He looked at the others. “Titus is right. I do know where she is and I’m not going to tell you. I am, however, willing to make a deal.”

“You’re not taking Acacia or Callia anywhere. And we don’t make deals with scumbag-sucking—”

Demetrius shot Theron a scathing look. “I don’t need them. And you will deal if you want to save your soul mate’s life. I’m willing to take you to where Atalanta’s holding the princess, but once she’s free you’re going to do me a favor.”

“You’re higher than a kite if you think we’re gonna release you after what you did.”

“I don’t expect you to. I want something else.”

Theron’s gaze jerked Titus’s way, but the other guardian shook his head. “I can’t read him. Your guess is as good as mine.”

Theron’s gaze swung back to Demetrius. “And just what do you want?”

“That, you’ll find out later.”

Theron scoffed. “Why should we trust you? Not only are you a witch but you’re Atalanta’s son. And thanks to you, Gryphon’s gone. You could be leading us into a trap just like you did him.”

Gone. Demetrius thought back to the way Gryphon had been on the island. Possessed. Which meant his soul was dead. Likely in Tartarus.

Not his biggest problem now. He couldn’t do anything about it anyway. And considering everything else, the fact they knew he was part witch didn’t even matter. The only thing that mattered was getting to Isadora before it was too late. “I could be,” he answered with a shrug. “At this point, though, I’m the only option you’ve got. And contrary to what you think you know, things aren’t always what they seem.”

Theron turned away in disgust, looked toward Casey. The half-breed’s eyes reflected worry, fear, and indecision. “Theron.”

He glanced to the other Argonauts, none of whom seemed to know what the hell to do. And in the silence, Demetrius prayed they would take him up on his offer. He knew exactly where Atalanta was holding Isadora, and thanks to the vileness that lingered inside him he was the only one who could get to her.

Theron turned to face him again and hatred brewed in his eyes when he said, “Fine. We’ll agree to your terms. But that’s where the hospitality ends. And you’d better pray we get to her in time, because if we don’t I’m going to enjoy ripping you apart with my bare hands. Titus?”

“Yo.”

“Get Orpheus over here. We’re gonna need him. And tell the SOB we found the traitor who got his brother killed. That ought to light a fire under his ass.”

“It’s as cold as the fucking Arctic up here,” Phineus mumbled as he rubbed his hands together to ease the chill they all felt.

“It pretty much is the Arctic, dumbass,” Titus said, shifting the toothpick in his mouth to the other side and stomping his boots in the thin layer of snow that covered the permafrost.

From his spot on the other side of the old-growth trees they were all huddled under in the frigid forests of northern British Columbia, Demetrius watched the banter with keen eyes. Next to him, Cerek shot Phin and Titus a glare. “Stop your bitching. It’s better than Siberia any day of the damn week. Trust me, I know.”

“Ladies,” Theron said as he studied the rough sketch of Atalanta’s compound that Max had put together for them. “If we’re done gossiping, I could use some focus here.”

The boy had detailed the main lodge, the training yard, and the barracks with chilling accuracy, but luckily he hadn’t remembered just how to reach Atalanta’s stronghold. That, thankfully, had kept Demetrius in the loop and had made his presence necessary.

They were half a mile away, hidden in the trees just outside the northern city of Fort Nelson. Moonlight cast looming shadows across the frozen forest floor. A slight breeze blew, rustling the evergreens in the dead of night. In addition to the Argonauts, Orpheus had agreed to join the raid, but he wasn’t listening to Theron or studying the schematics of the compound. No, his icy eyes were pinned on Demetrius and murder brewed in their dark depths.

Get in line, shithead.

Beneath the thin dark jacket he wore, that blackness inside Demetrius shifted. The closer they’d gotten to Atalanta and her daemons, the stronger it had grown, giving him the power and strength he’d been lacking. Until now it was all Demetrius could do to keep it at bay. But soon enough he’d let it free. If his plan went as he hoped, soon enough it would consume him. And Orpheus just might get that murder he so desperately sought.

“Z?” Theron asked. “You ready?”

Next to Demetrius, Zander scowled. “No. I’d rather kick some daemon ass.”

Theron folded the map and stuck it in his back pocket. “Too bad. I’m not risking you in your condition.”

“I can’t be—”

“You can be hurt. And none of us have time to haul your ass out of there if things get rough, which I fully expect to happen.” His gaze swept each of the Argonauts and hovered on Orpheus. “Rescue mission only. We clear?”

The guys nodded in agreement, all except Orpheus, who still had a death stare dialed in on Demetrius.

Yeah, he deserved it, but a small space in Demetrius’s chest pinched with the realization he was now the outcast. Though he’d never truly fit in with the others, he’d been a part of something greater than himself for a short amount of time. Now? Now they all regarded him as the enemy. Which, ironically, he was.

“O?” Theron asked.

Orpheus tore his gaze from Demetrius and looked toward Theron. But something shimmered over his face before he turned, and for a split second his eyes shifted to a glowing green before hardening once more. “Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

The blackness inside Demetrius jumped to life, recognition sparking it into action. He hadn’t been sure before, but now he knew for certain. Orpheus was—

“Zander,” Theron said, “you know what you have to do.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zander mumbled. “I’ve got it under control. He’s not going anywhere. Just don’t have too much fun without me.”

Casting Demetrius a withering look, Theron turned and motioned the others to follow.

The Argonauts disappeared into the trees, their path a circular loop in different directions around the property, out of sight of Atalanta’s sentries. Thanks to what Demetrius had told them and Max had confirmed, they were targeting the main house. But that wasn’t where Isadora was being held. Demetrius stared out over the barren brown field. Far off in the distance, he sensed Isadora was close to Atalanta, in her stronghold, where her powers were greatest and where no one could get to her but him.

Zander shoved his hands into his pants pockets, jumped up and down a few times to ease the chill. “Fucking freezing out here.”

The guardian was ticked he’d been relegated to baby-sitting detail, but Demetrius couldn’t have picked better. And even though Demetrius was cuffed and Theron had brought Delia in to cast some sort of spell on the cuffs before they’d left so Demetrius couldn’t use his magick to break free, he knew it was only a matter of time before opportunity presented itself. Now he just had to bide his time and wait.

Footsteps pounded in the trees no more than thirty yards away, followed by muffled voices and grunts that definitely weren’t human. Or Argolean.

“Skata.” Zander tugged Demetrius back into the darkness of the trees. With his hands bound behind him, Demetrius watched from the shadows as three daemons, obviously running patrol, emerged from the woods and crossed the barren field.

Yes.

“Fuckers,” Zander muttered when they were nearly across the field. “We’re lucky they didn’t see us.”

Demetrius closed his eyes as a chant rose up in his mind. Calling on the magick that had been born into him, he reached out with an invisible limb, his power a dark mist curling along the ground until it reached the feet of the daemons, now more than a hundred yards away. Contact and pressure erupted in his hand. He imagined the mist wrapping around the ankle of the middle daemon and clamping down. Then he gathered his power and yanked.

A cry erupted across the field as the middle daemon was wrenched up and back to slam into the frozen ground. The other two jerked to a halt and looked back with perplexed expressions on their gnarled faces.

“What the hell—”

Demetrius shifted around to face his kinsman. “You’ve got about twenty seconds before they reach us.”

“How did you—”

“The magick works like a beacon, Z. It’s how they found me the first time. It’s how they’ll find us now. You can either stay here and be overrun, or you can unbind my arms and help me save Isadora.”

“Save her? I thought—”

A roar erupted across the field and footsteps pounded the earth, signaling that the daemons had realized just where they were. Demetrius’s pulse picked up speed. “Contrary to what Theron thinks, I didn’t hand her over to Atalanta. And I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back. Even sacrifice you if I have to.”

Zander’s eyes flashed from silver to gray, signaling he’d called up one of his legendary rages. “You sonofa—”

Another roar sounded, this one a hell of a lot closer.

“Five seconds, Z. You more than anyone know things aren’t always what they seem. The others won’t be able to get to her. I’m the only one who can. Help me.”

Zander’s eyes held Demetrius’s, indecision warring within their gray depths. “Motherfucker.”

Whether it was the plea or the truth that made up Z’s mind, Demetrius didn’t know. But Zander shoved Demetrius around without another word. Metal clicked against metal as the key slid into the lock, then the cuffs clanged together as they separated.

Zander thrust the ten-inch hunting knife from his thigh into Demetrius’s hand and took a step away, reaching back for the parazonium at his back. “You’d better not make me regret this.”

Demetrius didn’t have time to answer. The first daemon plowed into his body, taking him down hard. His skull cracked against the frozen ground, but he arced out with the knife, catching the daemon at the jugular with the blade. Blood sprayed all over him and the ground. The daemon fell forward, his weight pinning Demetrius to the frozen earth. The beast wasn’t dead, though, and Demetrius had seconds before it got its second wind.

He flipped the daemon to its back and scrambled out from under its weight. Grasping the sword from its clawed hand, he swung out and down, decapitating it before it had a chance to regenerate its strength.

“D!”

Zander’s voice brought Demetrius’s attention around. The guardian was battling two daemons, each coming at him from a different direction. Though Zander could probably handle them alone, Demetrius charged the one on the left and took the monster down with a few carefully placed swipes of his blade.

The fight was over within minutes, the carnage around them a stark reminder of what they faced the closer they got to the compound. Breathing heavily, Zander braced his hands on his knees and leaned forward while he sucked air as if he’d just run a marathon.

“You okay?” Demetrius asked as he wiped his blade against his thigh.

“Peachy,” Zander muttered. He leveled Demetrius with a steely look as he pushed up to his full height. “You’d better not be fucking with me.”

Blood ran down Zander’s right bicep to darken his thin black jacket. Sweat covered his brow. As Demetrius studied his kinsman, he remembered what Gryphon had told him. Callia was linked to the Chosen, and she was Zander’s vulnerability, his Achilles heel. Theron’s words and the thinness he’d noticed in Zander earlier finally registered. Isadora’s separation from Casey was affecting more than just the two of them. Four lives hung in the balance if he couldn’t get to Isadora in time.

“I’m not,” Demetrius said. “Isadora’s being held in an underground bunker near the back edge of the property.”

“Why didn’t you tell Theron?”

“Because I needed a diversion. If Atalanta suspects I’m not on her side, she’ll have an army guarding the area. She knows I’ll be coming for Isadora. I needed Theron and the others to draw them away.”

Zander studied him, clenched his jaw. “Why are you the only one who can get to her?”

“Because I share more than just Atalanta’s DNA.”

“That magick trick you pulled with the daemons?”

“No.” He thought about that black mist curling through him even now. “That’s a gift from Medea. What I share with Atalanta is a helluva lot darker.”

“How do I know you won’t turn that on me when we get closer?”

“You don’t. But I promise you this, my only goal is to get Isadora out of there and back to Argolea. I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

Zander’s eyes held Demetrius’s so long, Demetrius’s pulse picked up speed. If Zander didn’t help him now…If he called Theron or one of the others to come back…

“You’ve fallen for her.”

Demetrius clenched his jaw, looked quickly away, and thanked Zeus that Zander couldn’t read minds like Titus. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“Shit,” Zander muttered. “You didn’t just fall for her. She’s your soul mate. Why didn’t I figure that out sooner? Now it all makes sense. No wonder you didn’t want to bind yourself to her.”

Skata. He was obviously doing a bang-up job of hiding his emotions if Zander could see through him like tissue paper.

Demetrius handed Zander the hunting knife then looked over the field. “Can we just go already?”

Zander sheathed the knife and chuckled. “Oh, man. Hera cursed you but good.”

No shit.

Demetrius turned for the tree line around the field. “I’m leaving.”

Zander followed. “This just got a whole lot more interesting.”

The guardian didn’t know the half of it.

They stayed out of sight of any daemons in the area and thirty minutes later were crouched behind a small outbuilding on the far side of the property, waiting for the perfect moment to make their move. Ahead, an enormous warehouse-style building was illuminated by an eerie orange light.

“How many?” Zander whispered.

“Looks like four,” Demetrius said softly. “Two just left. Theron and the others must be causing a commotion at the main house.”

They were far enough away that they couldn’t hear or see anything happening at the lodge a distance across the field. Though Demetrius had told Zander the truth and he did need the others to create a diversion, he hoped like Hades none of them got killed in the process.

Demetrius ducked back behind the shed. “Okay, we’ll go around from behind. One sentry’s walking each side. I’ll take the right, you take the left. Try to make it soundless, then go for the guard on your side at the front door.”

“Got it.”

Hunched down, Zander disappeared into the darkness. Demetrius did the same. His heart pounded hard in his chest as he waited in the shadows for the daemon sentry to move past him. Then, when the beast wasn’t expecting it, he struck.

He was the same height as the sonofabitch. Slipping up behind the daemon, he wrapped his hand around the fucker’s mouth before it could shout out a warning and sliced its jugular in one clean sweep. The black mist inside him screeched to the forefront, but he ignored it, beheaded the monster, stepped over what was left, and tiptoed to the edge of the building.

Two daemons stood at the main doors, still as statues, their glowing green eyes scanning the landscape.

“Come on, Z,” Demetrius whispered.

Twenty seconds later, Zander’s head popped around the far side of the building. He gave Demetrius the thumbs-up, then disappeared again.

“Go time.” Demetrius took a deep breath even as the blackness roared inside. Soon enough he’d let it out. He had to have faith Zander would be able to get Isadora out before he lost himself to it for good.

He waited for Zander to make his move. A swish echoed across the silence, then a grunt, and without even looking Demetrius knew Zander had thrown his hunting knife into the neck of the daemon closest to him. When the daemon on Demetrius’s side turned to see what had happened, Demetrius charged.

His blade was a blur of metal as he struck from the back, decapitating the daemon in one strike. The other daemon cried out, his guttural howl like a blaring alarm. Demetrius jumped over the falling body of the first daemon and swiped out with his blade, catching the second across the back. Zander charged from the other direction, and seconds later all that was left between them were blood, body parts, and steam.

“Come on.” Demetrius dropped to his knees and reached for the keys hanging from the first daemon’s waistband.

He slid the key in the warehouse door, turned, and pushed it open just enough so they could pull the bodies into the darkness. They locked it from the inside, spun around and surveyed the vast space.

Demetrius moved like a wraith, one thought in mind as he headed for the door at the back of the building that led down into the tunnels. Zander didn’t speak, but Demetrius heard the guardian behind him as they eased down the stairs and into the corridor like silent black shadows, low and deadly in the eerie orange illumination.

It was just as he’d remembered—stone walls, lights in the ceiling, and an air of evil that seemed to coat every inch of space.

The acrid odor of brimstone was strong in the tunnel but this time it didn’t bother Demetrius. The blackness inside burst forward, curling around every organ, tightening like a boa constrictor.

He stopped in front of the black door at the end of the tunnel surrounded by a pulsing halo of smoke and stared at the hideous warnings carved in daemonic text all over the burnt wood. He hadn’t been able to read them the first time he’d been here, but now he could. Now, because the black mist inside was on the verge of consuming him, he knew exactly what they said.

“What the hell is this place?” Zander asked, covering his mouth and nose with his hand.

“What you think it is,” Demetrius answered. “The doorway to hell. Hell on earth.”

Give in. Come to me.

He reached out with his hand.

“Um, D? Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“No matter what happens,” Demetrius said without turning, “get Isadora out of there. Open the portal and take her home. Don’t wait for me.”

“Yeah, D, man. I know, but what if—”

“No matter what happens, Zander. No matter what I do or say in there. Just make sure she’s safe.”

He lowered his hand to the door before Zander could say anything else. Power sliced into his palm, raced up his arm, and exploded in his chest, invigorating him with phenomenal strength and the dark, vile energy of his lineage.

“Skata. D—”

The mist whipped into a whirlwind of evilness, whisking through Demetrius like a tornado. Until his vision turned dark, until his limbs grew light, until all he saw and heard and felt was the malicious wickedness that no longer existed only on the other side of that door.

Until, in one mighty pull, the blackness drew him home for good.