Apollyon

if two strong arms were pushing down on my shoulders, I was on my back. And then I was drowning in what Seth was feeling again.

Aiden returned with food, and he brought company with him this time—my uncle Marcus. The man was actually being sort of decent toward me now. Ironic. I ate and drank my water like a good captive.

And I didn’t even yell anything insulting.

I figured I deserved a reward, like time out of the cell or something, but that was asking too much. Instead, Marcus left to go see what the others were up to. As soon as the door closed upstairs, Aiden sat with his back pressed against the bars.

Brave, brave man… or really stupid—it was a total toss-up. I could easily fashion the bed sheet into a noose and slip it around his neck before he’d have a chance to react.

But I sat down, my back almost against his. The flare of blue from the chains appeared weaker. Silence stretched out, oddly comforting. Minutes passed and the taut muscles in my back relaxed. Before I knew it, I was leaning against the bars… and Aiden’s back.

My earlier conversation with my Seth had left a weird taste in my throat and a ball of knots in my stomach. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t indulging in my murderous intentions with the bed sheet and Aiden’s neck? Missed opportunity, I supposed.

Lowering my chin, I sighed. What my Seth wanted, I wanted, but… daimons? I rubbed my hands on my bent knees and sighed again—louder, like a petulant child.

Aiden’s back twisted as he turned his head. “What, Alex?”

“Nothing,” I mumbled.

“There’s something.” He leaned back, tipping his head against the bar. “You have that tone.”

I frowned at the wall. “What tone?”

“The ‘I have something I want to say but shouldn’t’ tone.” A little bit of humor seeped into his voice. “I’m well familiar with it.”

Well… damn. My gaze dropped to my hands. The fingers were okay, I guess. But my nails were chipped and short. Hands of a Sentinel—a Sentinel who killed daimons. I pushed up the sleeve of my sweater. Pale-white bite marks covered my right arm. The crescent-shaped marks were a pain to hide and they were on both arms, as well as my neck. They were so ugly, a vile reminder of being trapped by them.

And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t wipe the faces of all those slaughtered halfs in the Catskills out of my head…or forget the look on Caleb’s face when he’d seen the blade embedded in his chest—a blade that had been wielded by a daimon.

Caleb would be so… disappointed didn’t even sum it up, if I didn’t say anything.

But my Seth would be pissed. He’d go snooping in my memories, and I wanted him to be happy with me. I wanted—

I didn’t want to work with daimons. That was a slap in the face to all those who’d died at their hands—my mom, Caleb, those innocent servants—and my scars.

My Seth… he’d just have to understand that. He would, because he loved me.

Mind made up, I took a deep breath. “Just so you know, I’m not telling you this because of anything to do with you. Okay?”

He laughed darkly. “I would never think such a crazy thing.”

I made a face. “I’m only telling you this because I don’t think it’s right. It goes against something… inherent in me. I have to say something.”

“What, Alex?”

Closing my eyes, I drew in a deep breath. “Do you remember how Marcus thought there was more to the daimon attacks, especially the one in the Catskills?”

“Yes.”

“I sort of thought it was Lucian, especially at his Council meeting. It made sense. Creating chaos and whatever makes it easier for people to overthrow and take control.” I ran a finger over the tag on the fleshy part of my elbow. “Anyway, the daimon attacks have apparently been orchestrated by Lucian and… Seth.”

Aiden’s spine went stiff against mine. No response. He was quiet for so long I scooted around. “Aiden?”

“How many?” His voice was gruff.

“All of them, I think,” I said, guilt chewing at my insides. I was betraying my Seth, but I couldn’t stay quiet. “They’ve found a way to control the daimons.”

His head lowered and his large shoulders rolled. “How?”

Climbing onto my knees, I grasped the bars and ignored the weak pulse of blue light. “They… they are using pures as motivation. The ones who are against them—us, I mean us.”

Aiden twisted so fast, I let go of the bars and jerked back. His eyes burned silver. “Do you know where they’re keeping these pures?”

I shook my head.

His lashes dipped. “Do you know why they would do something like this?”

The disgust in his voice was understandable. I rubbed my palms over my thighs. Why were they doing this? To create discord was obvious. With daimons attacking left and right, the Council had been distracted. The gods had developed doubts about the pures’ ability to control the daimon hordes and had sent furies as a result. And now, it would serve as a distraction for me to escape. How they’d work that one out I didn’t know. And if the fading blue light was any indication, it wouldn’t be necessary.

“No. I don’t know.”

His eyes met mine and our gazes locked. “Why did you tell me this? I’m sure Seth won’t appreciate it.”

I looked away. “I told you. It’s not right. Those pures…”

“Are innocent?”

“Yeah, and Caleb… he was killed by a daimon. My mom was turned by one.” My breath shuttled through me and I stood. “I want what Seth wants, but I cannot get behind that. He’ll understand.”

Aiden tipped his head back. “Will he? You know I will forward this information on. It will hinder his plans.”

I wrapped my arms around my waist. “He’ll understand.”

Sadness flowed into his expression and his eyes turned down. “Thank you.”

For some reason, anger bubbled up and I wanted to lash out. “I don’t want your thanks. It’s the last thing I want.”

“You have it.” He stood in one fluid motion. “And you have my thanks for more than you realize.”

Confused, I stared back at him. “I don’t understand.”

Aiden’s smile was tight, tinged with that ever-present sadness whenever he looked at me, as if I was this unfortunate creature who provoked sorrow wherever I went. Behind that sadness though, there was steely determination.

“What?” I said, when he didn’t answer.

“You’ve given me the hope I need.”

My Seth wasn’t mad that I’d blabbed. I hadn’t even tried to hide it from him. As soon as we connected, I told him what I’d done. If anything, he seemed to have expected it. And that I didn’t understand, but either way, he didn’t want to talk about it.

Telling me about his childhood, he was a different Seth—a side of him I’d rarely seen. When he started to talk about his mom, vulnerability seeped through the bond, as if speaking about his mother unnerved him.

What was her name? I asked.

Callista.

Pretty.

She was very beautiful. Tall and blond, regal like a goddess. His words drifted off for a moment. Considering the past tense reference, I assumed she’d died. But she wasn’t kind, Angel. She was cold and unapproachable, and most of all, when she looked upon me, there was always hate in