'Yeah, but he's got nothing but time. Jeez.' She rolled her eyes. 'Rain on my parade of smartness, why don't you? If you don't want to go that route…' she added to Reyes.
'I don't.'
'Fine. Whatever. Let's see, let's see. There has to be something else. Think, Anya, think. You, too, Willy. Put that fat head of yours to work.'
Silence. Hours of silence.
'Maybe slap Cronus around a bit,' William finally suggested. 'That would convince me of your strength.'
Anya clapped happily. 'That's it! Defeat Cronus, and you'll end this little game right now, as well as rid the world once and for all of his nastiness.'
Reyes's eyes widened. 'You're kidding. Defeat Cronus?'
Hearing him say it dimmed her excitement. 'You're right. Probably not possible. Sadly, he's the most powerful being living and you're, well, not.'
'What I am is a man in love.' A crazed gleam entered Reyes's eyes, a glint that scared her. If he went after the god king, Lucien would be upset. And she didn't like when Lucien was upset.
'Uh, Reyes, baby, let's put our heads together and come up with something else. Something—'
If he heard her, he gave no notice. He'd lumbered to his feet and limped from the room. Anya wished like hell she'd kept her big mouth shut.
AFTER STUFFING HIMSELF with more food than his stomach should have been able to hold, Reyes had Lucien flash him to the storage facility where Danika kept all of her paintings. Her mother, sister and grandmother had come along for the ride, a comfort to him. He was grateful Hunters hadn't beaten him to it.
Every hour he sorted through the stacks of canvas, his determination to win Danika increased. Though Cronus had never reappeared, Reyes could always feel the god's eyes on him, boring, watching, waiting for a glimpse of the mysterious painting.
But Reyes didn't offer it to him. Not yet. Since that night upon the roof, he had ceased playing the tapes of Danika's childhood. And though he longed to see them again, he knew it was for the best.
'Just a little more time, angel, then we'll be together again. I swear it.' He'd already uttered the words at least a hundred times. For her. For him. Her family had stopped shaking their heads in surprise when he did so.
Ginger dusted her hands together. 'I can't believe the nightmares my little sister has had to deal with.'
Tinka wrapped an arm around the girl's waist. They made a beautiful pair, sandy hair gleaming, cheeks glowing rosily.
Pain grunted an agreement.
'She's stronger than I ever knew,' Ginger continued, glancing at the stacks of art. 'A better painter, too. I mean, I knew she was good, but I had no idea.'
Tears poured from Tinka's green eyes, eyes so very much like Danika's his heart wanted to explode every time he looked into them. 'I can't believe I shamed my daughter into hiding these in storage. They should be in a gallery. They're hauntingly lovely, aren't they?'
Like Danika herself. 'Yes. They are.'
Mallory pulled a plastic bag from her purse, opened it and offered half of a peanut-butter sandwich to him. 'Before we left, your friend Anya told us we had to help you keep your strength up.'
He accepted it gratefully and had it consumed in two bites, liking the thoughtfulness of the woman's gesture. Danika's family—not to mention Anya herself—seemed to have forgiven him for his crimes against them. 'When Danika is returned to us, she will find joy in her paintings. This I swear to you.'
'I so wanted to hate you,' Ginger said on a sigh.
His lips twitched. Her tart tongue amused him, reminding him of Danika.
Would everything remind him of Danika? he wondered then. He didn't mind the reminders, he loved them, but many more and he might break down, give in to the misery of being without his woman.
'What exactly are we looking for?' Tinka asked, suddenly beside him.
'Ask Mallory,' was all he said, unwilling to cease his search to explain. He would
'Look for anything involving Cronus, King of the Titans, and set it aside for Reyes to study. And before you ask, Cronus is tall, with thick silver hair and a beard, and always wears a white toga.'
One of the portraits caught his eye, a colorful depiction of angels and demons, life and death, blood and smiles. Like Ginger, he was amazed by what she had seen in her young life. Amazed even more that she had thrived despite her burden, emerging as the determined yet gentle warrioress he knew.
A few more flips, and he found four paintings of Cronus. His heart rate sped up. In some, the god paced the corridors of a prison cell, flames licking the walls, smoke filling the air. In others, he fought his way free, killing with expert precision, using his scythe, which stretched and stretched and stretched miles past its usual length to take the heads of his enemies.
Why had Cronus not carried the scythe when he'd visited Reyes? Afraid he would use it and regret it? If that were the case—which Reyes seriously doubted—it would mean Cronus needed him alive. Perhaps the king had traded it for something. Danika's life? Anya had once mentioned that even the gods were bound by the laws of give-and-take, sow-and-reap.
Reyes frowned, pushing the thoughts from his mind. For now. They weren't as important as saving his woman. He moved to another stack of canvases, the first of Cronus cornering a group of trembling gods and backing them into the very cell he himself had occupied. Gods Reyes had once guarded. Seeing them now, he felt a pang of forgotten loyalty. Cronus's expression was one of cold determination. It was obvious he wanted to kill them, but wanted them to suffer the same fate he had even more.
For hours more, Reyes pored over the artwork. The women supplied him with water and snacks but remained silent, as if sensing his need to focus. Finally, he had examined every single canvas.
He hadn't found the one he wanted—had Danika destroyed it? Hidden it elsewhere?—but he had learned some valuable information and began ticking each fact off in his mind.
Cronus hated confinement. Would do anything to avoid it.
He preferred revenge over absolute safety, for never again could the Greek gods challenge him for the heavenly throne if Cronus had killed them. Instead, he'd locked them away, taking Anya's greatest treasure to ensure they stayed where they belonged.
His scythe could elongate as surely as Reyes's nails.
All of that, on top of the first painting Reyes had seen…his mouth fell open as the answer finally, blessedly shifted into place. He jumped to his feet, having trouble catching his breath. Grinning for the first time in days.
'What?' the women asked in unison.
'I know what I have to do.' Close, he was so close. All he had to do now was find a way into heaven.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
'I MISS YOU SO MUCH, angel.'
A long while passed, but there was no response.
Reyes lay on top of his bed. He had been there for hours, perhaps an entire day. He'd lost track of time. Over and over, he'd attempted to connect with Danika on the mental plane. She was up there, in heaven. She was a portal, and she'd propelled him there twice. It was reasonable to think she could do so again. The problem was that this time there could be no penetration to pave the way. Reyes could only hope their joinings had forged an emotional and spiritual bond strong enough to substitute for a physical coupling.
'I'm lost without you.'
'
Still nothing.
'Do you carry our child, Danika? If not, I want nothing more than to give you my baby, watch your belly
