Never in all his years had he imagined a Messenger would betray his family.
Nemesis’s hand drifted from Daimon’s face. “I will await your return, my beautiful slave. You will service me for eternity.”
She tilted her head slightly to her left.
“Take him.”
Chapter 32
Daimon blacked out at some point. When he came around, he was in some kind of loft apartment. Arched windows had been painted black, but as far as he could tell, it was daylight outside.
He twisted on the dusty wooden floorboards, his muscles protesting as he manoeuvred onto his side and realised his arms were bound behind his back. His vision wobbled, blurring and going dark around the edges before it cleared again. He shook his head, trying to shift the heaviness from it.
He felt as if he had drunk a barrel of ambrosia.
The room distorted again as he tried to take stock of his surroundings and figure out where he was being held. The exposed brick walls had been painted white at some point, but the paint was peeling now, and black mould crept across the ceiling from the top corner of the wall nearest the bank of windows.
No furniture either.
It looked as if no one had lived here in a very long time.
Daimon rolled onto his front, pressed his left cheek into the floorboards and pushed his backside up. He wriggled his knees forwards and gritted his teeth as he forced himself into an upright position.
Someone shoved him in the back.
He hit the floorboards face-first and growled at the person.
They weren’t powerful.
Not daemon either.
He shuffled around so he could peer over his shoulder at them.
The Messengers.
He glared at the one closest to him, the one who had shoved him, staring right into his mismatched eyes. “My father know you’re a traitor?”
The male’s eyes brightened dangerously, one glowing emerald as the other shone like a sapphire.
Daimon spat at his feet.
Got a boot in the face as a reward.
He grunted as he was flipped onto his back, his arms twisting painfully beneath him.
The male looked ready to level another blow at him.
Stiffened.
“Now, I do believe we said not to harm him.” The soft female voice echoed in the cavernous room.
Daimon’s gaze sought the owner of it.
Found her near a metal door a few metres south of his feet.
Her blonde tresses had been twisted into a plait that arced over the front of her hair, and her blue eyes were bright as she gazed at him, her rosy lips curling into the semblance of a smile.
If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought it was Marinda.
But he did know better.
He glared at the furie, letting her know exactly what he thought of her. Another traitor. The female didn’t react, just kept walking towards him, her eyes never leaving him. Behind her, the second furie entered the room, sighing.
“We will not be able to do anything until nightfall. Evening at the earliest.” She didn’t sound happy about that.
Daimon was.
It gave him time.
His brothers would be concerned about him by now. Cass definitely would be. He wasn’t sure how long he had been out, but he guessed it was a few hours judging by how well the lacerations on his back had healed.
His sorceress didn’t seem to be able to let him out of her sight for more than a couple of hours, something he had lamented once but was thankful for now. Providing she hadn’t changed that quirk of hers since she had staked a claim on his heart, she would be looking for him. He was sure of it.
“I thought New York in autumn was meant to be dreary.” The first Erinyes smoothed her blonde hair, tracing each ribbon of the braid with both hands. “She will not be pleased about the delay.”
“A delay is necessary,” the second responded as she moved around the room, giving the Messenger who had remained at a distance a slow once-over. She pressed close to him and tiptoed, whispering into his ear, “Can you really not feel things?”
She feathered her fingers down the buttons of his tunic and the way the male reacted when she palmed the front of his trousers said that he definitely could feel things. His mismatched eyes widened and darkened, and edged towards her.
“Such a shame you don’t serve me.” She gently patted the male’s groin.
His pupils devoured the green and blue of his irises.
“Melody,” the first furie snapped. “Focus.”
“Just trying to find a way to pass the time, Meadow.”
Marinda. Melody. Meadow. Three Erinyes. Goddesses of the Underworld that formed a power circle that could be devastating if they put their mind to it and worked together.
Thankfully, Marinda was on his side, weakening the other two Erinyes.
Melody sighed and dragged herself away from the male, coming to stand beside the woman who could have passed as her twin. They were even dressed the same, clad in black corsets and leathers that reminded him of Cass.
But unlike Cass, both of them looked wary of getting too close to him.
Because of his power?
He focused it, keeping his gaze on their faces so they kept looking at him and not at the floor. Ice spread outwards from beneath him.
Meadow was swift to notice and back away, catching Melody’s arm and pulling her with her.
The ice formed more rapidly to keep pace with them.
And then it stopped.
He frowned at the wooden floor and cursed. A crudely drawn chalk circle surrounded him, glyphs flowing around the outside of it.
A ward.
Both Erinyes’ eyes changed, turning violet edged with black as they glared at him.
“Nemesis wants him kept alive.” The Messenger who Melody had groped stepped forwards, his eyes fixed on the female, hunger still shining in them.
Melody’s right eyebrow slowly arched as she looked him over and pursed her lips, a sultry pout in his direction that had his eyes darkening further.
Meadow huffed and glared at Daimon. “We won’t kill him. Just need to take a little blood.”
Blood.
The Erinyes could siphon powers from blood, and had proven in Tokyo that it didn’t need
