And then he would hate himself.
She had been caught up in that cycle with him several times since Esher had disappeared, seemed as bound by some cruel master of their fates as he was, feeling as if someone behind the scenes was pulling strings to make her do these reckless and foolish things.
Things she knew would only end in the same way.
With him lashing out.
With her hating herself.
With him hating himself.
And then a brief truce, a point where they were calm around each other, able to enjoy the others company without inflicting pain.
Daimon stepped.
As she stared at the black vapour trail of his teleport, her heart whispered at her to follow.
She knew where he was going.
She summoned the spell, even though it taxed her to do it, had her legs wobbly beneath her when she landed near the water.
She stared across the narrow stretch of it to the Star Ferry dock, watched him boarding one as he often did, making the journey from the island to the Kowloon district. She couldn’t understand why he did this ritual. He avoided contact with others, especially with humans, yet he always chose to cross the water in this manner—on a rickety green and white double-decker boat that was always packed with humans.
And he always took the same route when he reached the other side, walking the Avenue of the Stars for a short distance before he stopped to stare back across the water at the Hong Kong island skyline, taking it in.
Or did he see something else?
She had done her research and knew that if the brothers focused they could see the future of this world in all its morbid fiery horror, and sometimes even when they weren’t trying.
She muttered the spell again, risking it, and transported herself to the other side of the water, landing near a group of tourists. They would provide her cover.
As predicted, Daimon walked to the same spot he always did and stopped, gazing across the water that rippled with colour from the neon on the buildings on the opposite bank.
His handsome face hardened.
She suspected he wasn’t viewing the here and now, but rather what was to come.
She fell into studying him, as she always did whenever he wasn’t aware of her, whenever he came to this spot, trying to piece together a clearer picture of him.
He idly touched the roll-neck of the top he wore beneath his long black coat, stroking his gloved fingers along it, his eyes still locked on the skyline. His shoulders trembled, a brief shudder she would have missed if she hadn’t been watching him so closely. His power was acting up.
Did it hurt him when it did that? Did he hate the cold that wracked him? Was it the reason he kept his distance from everyone?
She couldn’t imagine what it was like to live as he did, unable to touch anyone, fearing he might kill them by mistake if he let them get too close to him.
Hades was an unsympathetic bastard to force Daimon to remain in this world when he was suffering because of it.
Daimon masked it well, but she could see it, especially when his brothers and their women were around. He often singled out Ares, secretly watching him interact with Megan. She wanted to know why he watched Ares more than the others. Because Ares shared his problem? Because Megan was immune to the heat that constantly shimmered over his skin?
She wanted to reveal herself and ask Daimon about it, but more than that, she wanted to watch him, drinking in this side of him, this quiet thoughtfulness, and how handsome he was when he wasn’t snapping at her.
If she revealed herself to him, he would push her away.
He frowned and lowered his head, pulled a phone from his jeans pocket and stared at it, the screen illuminating his face. He pocketed it again and turned away from the view, his long legs swiftly carrying him back the way he had come.
Where was he going in such a hurry?
She trailed after him, curiosity gripping her. That curiosity only increased when he stopped where the pedestrian pathway met the road and hailed a cab. She hurried to catch up with him, hailing a taxi for herself when she reached the road and slipping into the back of it.
Felt like a cliché as she said, “Follow that cab.”
It was strangely thrilling as the vehicle pulled away, tailing the one Daimon was in as it moved deeper into the heart of the city, beyond the business districts and high rises to smaller buildings and a more suburban setting.
“Stop,” she hissed as the cab Daimon was in pulled up outside a long stone building that had a colonial air about it.
Daimon stepped out of the taxi and jogged up the steps, pushed one of the large double doors open and disappeared inside.
Cass paid her driver and slipped out onto the pavement. She eased towards the three-storey building, her heart hammering in her throat and that curiosity tugging her forwards, even as part of her screamed to leave and not snoop into things for once.
Her gaze drifted over the building, with its columns and tall sash windows. It looked like a bank or the head office of some grand company in Europe, was out of place among the tattered buildings that surrounded it. Someone had taken great care of this one building while the others of its age had fallen into ruin around it.
She came to an abrupt halt as she reached the five steps that led up to the door, her gaze snagging on the brass sign mounted on the wall beside it.
An orphanage?
Why had Daimon come to an orphanage?
She was so busy staring at the sign trying to find an answer to that question that she missed the door opening.
“It’s no problem. If anything happens again, call me. Little guy needs some extra attention to help him settle in, that’s all.” Daimon turned away from the middle-aged Chinese woman and froze.
