The Darkest Pleasure

'Do your sister, mother, grandmother dream of hell?'

She shook her head, blond tresses dancing. 'They've never spoken of it.'

There was a hitch in her voice, but he pretended not to notice. If she had lied, he had, too, for he did not want the conversation to end. 'What do—'

'We're supposed to trade information,' she interjected with a steely edge. 'So let's trade. Where's my mother?'

'In the States. A small town in Oklahoma.'

Absolute relief suddenly lit up her lovely features, and she closed her eyes. A tremor slipped through her, and several tears beaded between her eyelids before sliding down her cheeks.

He didn't, couldn't, allow the sight to affect him. 'Have you ever dreamed of the heavens?'

'Yes.'

'What do you—'

She gave another shake of her head. 'No. I answered. Now it's your turn. Where's my sister?'

'Thisss boring,' Legion said with a sigh, curling into Aeron's lap and closing his eyes.

'Your sister is with your mother.'

'Oh, God.' Another tear of joy and relief journeyed south, streaking a crystalline path to her chin.

Aeron thought her legs might have collapsed had Reyes not released her hand, arm snaking around the bars, as well as her waist, holding her up. She didn't protest. No, she sidled closer to him.

How could they trust and need each other like that?

They were fools; he was not jealous. 'What do you see when you trek these spiritual planes?' he asked.

'I see great evil and unerring goodness. I see death and life. Darkness and rainbow colors. Demonlike creatures who destroy, screams all around them. Angels who repair the damage, songs of glory humming from their wings.'

When she did not elaborate further, Aeron frowned. None of what she described was reason enough for the gods to mark her for death. His kind of death, at that: the sins of her past cutting through her skin and bones as though they were no more substantial than butter.

'What have you seen of the gods? What—'

'My grandmother,' she interjected. 'Where is my grandmother?'

He pressed his lips together, his heart rate increasing, sweat beading on his temples. If he told the truth, she would leave, and he wasn't ready for her to leave. Not yet. Thousands of questions still ran through his mind.

'I'm not satisfied with your last answer,' he said. 'Tell me if you've seen the gods.'

Even though several feet separated them, he could hear her teeth gritting together. 'I don't know if I've seen them.'

'Think!' he roared.

She flinched, and Reyes growled over at him.

'How would I know? I don't believe in gods and goddesses, I don't know what they look like or sound like.' Her breathing was choppy, raspy. 'I could have dreamed of them a thousand times and not have known it.'

'Help her figure it out,' he snapped to Reyes.

Reyes looked down at her, his expression hard. Reminded Aeron of the night Reyes had asked him to fly Danika into town. She hadn't wanted to go, Reyes hadn't wanted Aeron to touch her, but he had stepped back and forced the players into action for the greater good.

He'd always been like that, placing the needs and wants of his friends above his own. He'd also always been determined, unwilling to back down when someone he loved desired something—even if they began to hate him for his methods of obtaining it for them.

'If you're withholding information, stop,' Reyes said. He released her and left the cell, locking the door behind him before turning back to her. 'Aeron will not renege on his word. Tell him what he wishes to know, and he will tell you about your grandmother. What have you seen recently? Describe it—or them—to us. What have you heard? No detail is too small.'

She gulped. Licked her lips. Another tremor swept through her as she tore her gaze from her man and faced Aeron. 'Was there—was there a war recently? You know—up there?'

Aeron's jaw dropped.

Reyes might have gasped. He did step away and turn to see her more clearly.

So. It was true. She could see into the heavens. The reason for her death order was finally revealed with absolute certainty.

'Yes,' Reyes croaked out. 'There was.'

'Greeks fighting against Titans? I think that's what they called themselves.'

'Yes,' Aeron answered.

Her cheeks leached of color. 'The Titans won and the Greeks were locked away. Well, most of them were, at least.'

'Yes.' The word emerged from both of them as the faintest of whispers.

'The Titans are scrambling to find a group of weapons. The…king, I think it was, held a meeting with his new Captain of the Guard. I guess that's the leader of his army.' She kept talking, the words rushing from her as if she feared stopping and being unable to start again. 'They have a plan. The captain will come to earth to watch and wait, follow and steal. I don't recall everything. My painting could give the details I'm forgetting. After I dream, I try to forget. I don't want to remember.'

'Painting?' Reyes asked, more a croak than a question.

She nodded, eyes shadowed with memories. 'When I dream of…heaven and hell, I always paint what I see to purge it from my system.'

'Where are the paintings now?' he asked, punching the wall behind him with so much force she backed two steps away, palms up.

'A few are at my apartment in New Mexico. Most are in storage, where I'm paid up for a year.'

Reyes spun from her and faced Aeron, grim, expectant.

Danika, too, eyed him. 'I answered fully. Now it's your turn. Tell me about my grandmother.'

After everything she'd told him, he owed her the truth. He did not try and sugarcoat it. He looked her straight in the eye. 'I think I killed her.'

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ROME. A place of majesty, steeped in history and opulence, violence and pleasure. No matter where a man stood in this magnificent city, the sea would sing to him, innocent and tranquil; the sky would respond with a song of its own, a peaceful melody of fading light.

Neither calmed Paris.

He stood at the edge of the Temple of the Unspoken Ones, hidden beside his friends. Waiting. The eerie temple—sometimes he would swear he heard tortured screams on the wind, rising above the sweet melody of the waves—had risen from the sea not too long ago, shrouded from the human eye until recently. Now workers swarmed the area, buzzing back and forth, cleaning and searching the crumbling corridors for glimpses into the past. They didn't know that the gods planned to use the temple to bring mortals full circle. Once they'd worshipped and sacrificed at the altars of their heavenly creators, soon they would worship and sacrifice again.

No matter what their desires were, he was sure.

The rising of the temple, and its counterpart in Greece, was merely stage one. At least, that's what Paris surmised. He was perhaps the most human—the most earthbound—of all the Lords of the Underworld, and the others might scoff if he offered an opinion on their new sovereigns, the Titans. But Paris liked to think his immersion in humanity added to his understanding of all things spiritual. Having spent so much time among mortals, he knew their emotions well. Greed, jealousy, the desire to be loved.

Yes, there was definitely an overlap between mortal emotions and godly ones.

What were the Titans if not greedy for the power that had once been theirs; jealous that the Greeks had