“Sabin is a lucky bastard,” Gideon said.
Anya’s gaze locked on him, but her expression was suddenly dazed, as if she saw past him. A hum of power drifted from her, wrapping around him, squeezing. When she focused, a smile bloomed. “Better watch it,” she said. “Or you’re going to be fated to love a female far worse than a Harpy. The gods are fun that way.”
The heat drained from his cheeks, and he clenched his hands into fists. “Do you know something?” She was a goddess and potentially privy to information they weren’t.
“Maybe,” she said with a dainty shrug.
“Don’t you dare tell me!” He loved women, he did. But take one permanently, when a single one had never truly satisfied him? Hell, no. Violent as his life was, he needed something extreme to push him over the edge. When his partners asked how to please him, he had to tell them the opposite. How much worse would it be if he were strapped with a single female? He would never get sex the way he truly craved, not even accidentally.
“I’d absolutely tell you if I knew.”
She was lying. He knew she was. Lying was a passion of hers. How did Lucien stand her?
Suddenly Lucien materialized, his scarred face confused as everyone crowded around him. “The place is furnished but abandoned. No paperwork, but I did see clothing strewn about. Sizes only children can wear. Must have left in a hurry.”
Frowning, Strider rubbed his temple. “That means we’re too late, that we made the trip for nothing.”
“There are strange markings on the wall, though,” the scarred warrior added. “I could not decipher them. I want to flash you in one at a time so if the outside area is still being monitored, we won’t be spotted. Surely someone among us will have seen the markings before and know what they mean.”
Didn’t take long. Within five minutes they were inside the building. Gideon was swaying from dizziness— flashing sucked—Strider was laughing, Reyes pale and clutching his stomach, Anya dancing around the empty room, and Amun staring into the distance.
“This way,” Lucien said.
They stalked down narrow corridors, their booted footsteps echoing. Gideon traced a finger over the wall; it was painted a sickening gray. That had been the color of his cell while in captivity. The only furniture he’d been given was a bed with wrist and ankle straps.
Bad memories. He didn’t like to venture down that brain path unless he was in the middle of a fight. Helped channel his rage. He looked around. There were multiple bedrooms. Well, they were more like barracks, with fifteen beds to a space. There were also what appeared to be classrooms.
Left, right, right, left and they entered a gymnasium, everyone remaining on guard. One wall was mirrored with a bar in front of it. For…ballet? he wondered. Of course, he thought next. Killers could be more effective when they were flexible.
Three of the walls were gray, just like the hall. But the last was painted in a multitude of colors. Gideon couldn’t make out a single picture, only sharp, jagged lines and sweeping arches. They were a mess.
“It’s lovely,” he muttered.
“It’s also a spell, as we suspected,” Anya replied.
Bodies closed around him. Fingers were soon tracing, eyes following, searching for patterns.
“I’ve seen this before,” Reyes said darkly. “In the books I used to learn more about Anya.”
When Anya had first come to them, no one had known if she meant them harm. Not their fault, either. The woman was renowned throughout the ages for the trouble she caused.
“Oh, Panie. Your interest still flatters me, but really, get over your crush. I’m taken. Now about the spell. They definitely used the old language,” she said. “Though they added their own flare, and I’m having trouble deciphering certain words. That one means dark, that one means power, and that one…helpless, I think.”
“I don’t want to leave now,” Gideon said, spine suddenly tingling in warning. Danger was nearby.
Reyes sighed. “The lying is already getting on my nerves.”
“I care. I do,” Gideon told him dryly. “My heart is actually hurting for you. And just so you know, I can go without lying just like you can go without cutting yourself.”
Another sigh. Then, “Sorry,” Reyes said. “I shouldn’t have gone there. Lie all you want.”
“I won’t.”
Strider belted out a laugh and slapped him on the shoulder.
Gideon knew he was annoying. He did. But he couldn’t stop.
Suddenly Anya, who had been muttering under her breath, reading, gasped. “Oh my gods.” One step, two, she backed away from the wall. She was trembling, and in all the weeks Gideon had known her, all the battles they’d fought together, he’d never seen the courageous female tremble. “Flash us, Lucien. Now. All of us, if possible.”
Lucien didn’t hesitate, didn’t waste time asking why. He stalked to her and wrapped his arms around her, clearly intending to flash her first—because whether she knew it or not, he couldn’t transport more than he could touch. But it was too late. Dark, metal shades fell over the room’s two windows, drowning out all hint of light.
Down the hall, he could hear the same shades closing over the other windows.
Gideon spun around, palming his daggers. He wanted to lash out, but it was now so dark he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face, much less his friends. He didn’t want to cut the wrong person.
“Lucien,” Anya cried.
“I’m here, baby, but I can’t flash. I can’t seem to force my body to dematerialize anymore.” Lucien had never sounded so grim. “It’s like there’s some sort of a magnetic shield locking my spirit to my body.”
“There is,” Anya said. “Magic. I activated it the rest of the way when I read the spell aloud.”
There was an ominous pause as everyone digested that, realization bubbling in Gideon’s throat, practically choking him.
“What do the designs mean?” Strider finally asked.
“Most of it is the spell, locking us in the dark, our powers gone, our bodies helpless. The last line, though, is a message to all of you. It says, Welcome to hell, Lords of the Underworld. You’ll be here until you die.”
CHAPTER 22
The first woman Aeron had found for Paris, the warrior had previously slept with. Not that Paris had known it by looking at her. His body’s lack of response had given him away. So back to town she’d gone. Since receiving his demon, Paris had only once gotten hard for the same woman twice. And that was the female who had died and couldn’t be reborn.
The second woman Aeron had found for his friend had been a no go, as well. Same reason. The third had been a tourist, new to town, and had thankfully never crossed paths with the warrior. Aeron had abducted her right out of her hotel room while she slept so that his tattooed face and inhuman wings wouldn’t frighten her. She’d woken up next to Paris and when she’d glimpsed his pretty face, she’d climbed on board for the ride of her life.
Today, Aeron was flying his friend into town. No more taking females back and forth. It was a waste of time. This way, Paris could choose whom he wanted and Aeron could quickly and efficiently procure her for him. The two could have their fun in Gilly’s apartment, the safest place Aeron knew of, since Torin had the entire building wired like a maximum security prison to keep Danika’s young friend safe. Aeron hadn’t liked it when she had moved out of the fortress—she was too fragile, too skittish—but the warriors freaked her out and time hadn’t calmed her. Aeron would take her to the coffee shop across the street, if she’d let him, and keep her company while they waited.
A perfect plan. Well, as perfect as he could work it.
If only Paris and the Harpies had gotten along. But Promiscuity had taken one look at the beautiful women and deemed them “too much effort.” Aeron supposed he knew the feeling. He himself hadn’t enjoyed a female in over a hundred years, and he wouldn’t enjoy one for a hundred more. If ever. As he’d told his sweet Legion, they were simply too weak, too easily destroyed, while he would most likely live forever.
He wasn’t sure he could survive having to watch another loved one die.
