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  Casey’s dark eyes shot to my father, then back to me. He refused to answer.

  “Father,” I said, placing my hand lightly on his arm. “Can we continue this conversation at a later time? I think Casey wishes to speak to me alone.”

  “Whatever he has to say can be said before me,” Hades replied tightly. “Lest he forget who exactly is in charge of the realm he is a guest in. An uninvited guest at that.”

  Casey’s gaze remained on me, as if he was awaiting my cue. I nodded once, knowing that Hades would not concede in the matter. Whatever Casey needed to say would be said in his presence, regardless of whether my brother wished that to be the case or not.

  “Deimos is here,” he said, unable to withhold the chill in his tone. His resentment for my father’s second in command was plain.

  And Hades took notice.

  “I hardly see that as a situation,” he retorted.

  Casey’s chest rumbled with irritation.

  “I was sure you wouldn’t.” My brother took a step closer to me, his eyes narrowing. “Perhaps we should go home earlier than expected, Khara.”

  “What is going on here?” Hades asked, stepping in front of me. His expression implored me to answer him.

  “Casey is not a fan of your soldier, Father. There is some . . . history there. Allow me to take my leave and aid in his predicament, if you will.”

  With a dubious nod, he agreed, and I stepped around him to join Casey, who all but rushed me out of the room and down the hall, grasping my arm with his hand to quicken my pace.

  “I cannot find your bloody fucking chaperone anywhere, but we need him on this one, Khara. We need to get you out of here ASAP.”

  “I am not leaving,” I said, pulling away from him. “I have come here to get answers, and I will stay until I receive them.”

  “Do you have amnesia? Have you forgotten what that fucker tried to do to you? What he did to Oz?”

  I felt my features darken while I stared Casey down.

  “Hardly.”

  “Then wake up, Khara! He’s here, and there ain’t shit that Kierson or I can do for you. Maybe not even Oz. And I think it’s rather apparent that your father has his head up his ass about his right-hand man,” he sneered. “What was up with that, anyway? Why didn’t you tell him what happened the second you arrived here? Judging by his response, he doesn’t know a damn thing about Deimos’ master plan.”

  “That matter is complicated.”

  “The fuck it is! He should know who he has serving under him—that his trusted inner circle has a traitor in it.”

  I took a moment before responding, trying to sort out how best to explain why I didn’t tell my father about Deimos. I had my reasons. But I was unsure that Casey would understand them.

  “Do you trust me?” I asked him, which took him off guard. His dark expression faltered for only a moment. “I, like you, believe in strategy and, above that, blackmail. Know that what he tried to do to me has not been forgotten. Quite the contrary, really. It is well etched into the forefront of my mind.”

  He huffed abruptly, then cocked his head, taking in what I had said.

  “Is he a threat to you here?” he asked, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

  “No more than he has ever been.”

  “I don’t like that answer.”

  “You do not have to like it, but it is the truth all the same,” I rebutted, leaving out the fact that my plan was to use Deimos’ disturbing antics against him, or at least try to, to get the information I sought. I did not think that would help to ease Casey’s mind. “Does Oz know of his return?”

  “No clue. That’s why I’ve been trying to find him. Though, if he did know, I’m pretty sure he would be all over your ass. Why do you ask?”

  “Because I think the reunion of those two will be far more disconcerting than that of Deimos and me.”

  He scoffed.

  “If you are convinced that nothing will happen between you two, I’ll let it go. For now. But I’m still going to track down Oz, shady motherfucker that he is.”

  “Plan on inciting a riot?”

  “Something like that,” he replied with a dark smile. “I’d pay good money to see that showdown. There isn’t any love lost between those two.”

  With that, he turned and continued in the direction we were originally headed, though he seemed utterly unconcerned that I did not follow. Casey was not prone to coddling me, and it was a trait in him that I found admirable. Even now, with so much uncertainty regarding what I was and who I was vulnerable to, he viewed me the same way—as a member of the Petronus Ceteri. As an equal.

  “Then, if I should find Oz first and lead him to Deimos, I will be sure to call you when the battle breaks out,” I called down the hall after him before making my way back to my father’s room. I could hear the rumble of his maniacal laughter reverberating down the corridors behind me.

  For it would be a battle indeed.

  One that I wished to avoid at all costs.

  If Oz and Deimos were to stand off against one another, the outcome would be bleak. Only one would walk away from it, and I could only assume that one would be Deimos. I was not inclined to believe that even Oz could overtake him, and the reality was I needed them both alive, though for different reasons.

  With that in mind, I instead strode past Hades’ room, continuing on toward the Great Hall, then the Warriors’ Wing beyond that. Deimos would certainly find me eventually, so I saw no point in hiding from him. Seeking him out would take him off guard.

  An advantage I would sorely need.

  5

  It was also an advantage I would not get.

  Even in my attempt to seek him out, Deimos found me first. I felt him long before he announced his presence from around a shadowy corner, as the familiar shiver he evoked ran down my spine. As always, I did not outwardly falter, nor did I deign to turn around and acknowledge him when he stepped out of the darkness he had shrouded himself in. He would demand my audience eventually. Forcing him to work for it seemed a favorable tactic.

  “You are hard to get alone these days, Khara. You travel with quite an entourage,” he mocked, letting me know that he viewed none of them as a threat. “Your pet Dark One is especially fearsome.”

  “Is there something you would like to discuss, Deimos?” I asked, finally turning to face him. I ensured that everything about my countenance epitomized impassivity.

  “Many things,” he purred through a wicked smile, coming to hover ominously above me.

  “Perhaps we could get on with it, then,” I volleyed, standing steadfast against both him and my desire to escape him. “My entourage will likely be looking for me. They will find me any minute. If privacy is what you seek, you will not have it for long.”

  “You have complicated my plans for us, vasílissa mou. At first, I found the change of events most disagreeable.”

  “And now?” I asked, shuddering internally at his pet name for me. “My queen” would, for most, be a term of endearment. To Deimos, it was a reminder that he sought to own me, a fate I wished to avoid—now more than ever before.

  “Now I find it more entertaining than ever.”

  “You do so love the hunt, Deimos.”

  “Like nothing else,” he drawled, moving closer to me. His size was formidable—even more so than that of Oz—and with it, he sought to enclose me in his cage of fear. It was one of his greatest powers. He could cow his prey easily; the terror he inspired proved disabling to those ensnared by it.

  I would not be that prey.

  “Then I am confused,” I said, straightening my body against the wall of fear that threatened my resolve. “If you are married to the chase, then why change me to that which you could claim so easily? Where is the sport in that?”

  His maniacal grin wavered.

  “Because I grow tired of chasing you. I do not wish to hunt you any longer.”

  “You wish to own me?” I stated, clarifying his intentions, though I alr
eady knew what they were.

  “Not wish, Khara. I will own you.” The intensity of his gaze ate through my defenses momentarily, and my expression fell. There was a sense of conviction in his words that was immediately unnerving. I had long known that I was the object of his desires, the one he wanted for himself and himself alone. I had maneuvered around this desire of his for centuries. Sometimes successfully. More frequently not. It was the game we had always played.

  But after my transformation—my awakening—I had hoped for some kind of shift. A balance of power between us. That night in the alley, before Sean banished Deimos back to the Underworld, I had thought I felt differently in his presence. Perhaps I had been high on the moment, having just defeated the Stealer sent to darken my soul. Doing all I could now to not cower before him, I realized little had changed. The anger I felt rising within me as a result was nearly enough to override the fear.

  Nearly.

  “I have staved you off this long, Deimos, and I will continue on that path unhindered,” I bluffed.

  “No,” he said abruptly.

  “No?”

  “No.”

  It was his only response.

  “Why are you suddenly so convinced of this?”

  “Because I do not lose, Khara. Ever.”

  “And yet you have, Deimos. From the time I arrived here so very long ago, you have continuously lost,” I argued, trying with a concerted effort to keep the tremors I felt coursing through me out of my voice. “You may be able to own my body, but you will never own my affections or my mind. Nothing about that has changed. Nothing ever will.”

  “On the contrary. Everything has now changed.”

  “I fail to see how.”

  He scoffed at my words.

  “That is because you do not see how he looks at you.” His words were a puzzle he willed me to solve. “I will not lose.”

  In an instant, the immense weight of his body crushed mine against the jagged rock wall behind me. I could feel the sharp edges bite into my skin even through my clothes. I would be bleeding soon. It proved a pleasant distraction.

  He looked down at me, the hall so dark that I could barely see his midnight eyes boring into mine. Boring into my soul. The fear I had narrowly managed to stifle quickly turned to terror. Whatever torment I had known from Deimos in the past was child’s play. He had been holding back his power. There, cornered by his weighty stare and bulk, I knew that his claim was true: He would own me eventually.

  And eventually started now.

  6

  “Well, well, well, what have we here?” Oz drawled, his voice carrying down the hallway that separated him from us, cutting the tension between Deimos and me, if only slightly. Though I could not see him, I knew the expression he wore: a smug grin with a fierce gaze. “You will not lose? What game is it that you’re playing, exactly? Perhaps I can throw my lot in to make things more interesting.”

  “Your lot is not welcome,” Deimos growled. His gaze never faltered; he stared fixedly at me, refusing to turn and face Oz. His unwillingness to do so illustrated just how little he feared him. To Deimos, Oz was little more than an annoyance, a distraction in his quest to possess me.

  “My lot rarely is,” Oz retorted, a noticeable bite to his tone. When he came into my view, standing only paces away from Deimos, I saw the bitterness in his expression. “Thankfully, that never stops me from throwing it in anyway.” His eyes fell on mine, and my urge to scream abated. “Hades is looking for you, Khara.”

  “Are you his errand boy now?” Deimos mocked as he pressed against me with even more force, blocking Oz momentarily from my view. The pain in my back instantly increased. “How fitting.”

  “I’m just trying to keep you and me on an even playing field, Deimos. You’ve been his lackey—or bitch, as I like to say—for a long time, but I think he’s taking a real shine to me. Better watch yourself. Your replacement could be imminent.”

  That premonition claimed Deimos’ full and terrifying attention. His head swiveled slowly to face Oz, who was just shy of flanking him on his left.

  “Careful, fallen one.”

  “It’s Dark One now, if you please,” he replied, feigning pleasantness. “I’ve been upgraded—or hadn’t you heard?”

  “I heard, but it doesn’t matter. You’ll be downgraded to dead in a minute if you do not shut your fucking mouth and go back from whence you came. There is nothing here for you.”

  “Oh, I think you and I both know better than that, now, don’t we?” Oz tsked. Whatever effect Deimos had on others, it was clear that he did not hold that power over Oz. The Dark One proved utterly immune to it, and the patronizing expression on his face served to irritate Deimos further.

  A perk of his dark nature, no doubt.

  Deimos released me before turning to advance on Oz, closing the distance between them slowly and methodically. Everything about his approach was designed to intimidate. Oz, however, remained unfazed. No longer entrapped by Deimos’ body, I peeled myself off the wall that I had been so forcefully pressed against, which caused the sharp pain in my back to morph into a dull, throbbing ache. I could feel the rivulets of blood seep down my back while I watched the dark angel and my father’s soldier face off. I had never known anyone to stand so defiantly against Deimos—other than myself. If they had, they surely did not live long enough to speak of it.

  “You think I cannot end you?” Deimos asked, his voice more curious than heated, as if he was in awe of what he perceived to be Oz’s ignorance. If it was ignorance, his education in the matter would likely be delivered in the form of his death.

  “I think,” Oz began, leaning toward Deimos rather than cowering in fear from him, “that just because you can navigate the in-between does not mean you can relegate me to it.”

  Deimos laughed heartily for a moment, but he then stopped abruptly, his sharp eyes piercing Oz’s.

  “I think I can do far, far worse than that, and you know it.”

  Oz merely shrugged in response.

  “Maybe. Or maybe your arrogance serves only to conceal your shortcomings. What I am one hundred percent certain of is that we’re done here—for now. The rest I’m willing to take my chances on,” Oz replied. He winked at me before offering me his hand by extending it just beyond the wall of Deimos’ mass. “Shall we, new girl?”

  “If my father requests my presence, then I shall go to him.” I did not take the hand Oz offered, but instead I walked around Deimos, giving him a substantial berth. “I do not wish to keep him waiting.”

  “Remember what I have told you, Khara,” Deimos called after me while Oz and I took our leave. His words were a warning. “You too, Ozereus.”

  “Remember them? Impossible,” Oz replied dismissively. “I’ve already forgotten.” His words were a taunt. He intended to start a war with the terror-inspiring one. A war against a yet-undefeated entity. Whether it was out of hubris or boredom, it mattered not. Oz had thrown down the gauntlet against the one that no one knew how to conquer.

  No longer was I the batshit crazy one.

  Falling in step behind me, Oz ushered me away from Deimos, down the winding tunnel, and toward the Great Hall, ultimately accompanying me to my father. There was an uncomfortable silence between us for part of the journey there. With him walking behind me, I could not read his expression to get a sense of what he was thinking. Perhaps he was not thinking at all. Judging by his actions toward Deimos, there was ample evidence to support that hypothesis.

  “Want to tell me what your little rendezvous with Deimos was all about?” His voice was cool and controlled, just as it had been when we first met.

  “What it is always about,” I replied, feigning as much indifference as he had. But I felt anything but indifferent. I was truly rattled by my encounter with Deimos that day. I realized that the menace I had long thought him to be was just a scratch on the surface of his true power. The implications were grim at best. At worst, they were deadly.

  Deadly, indeed. />
  “Enlighten me.” He bit the words out as though they pained him.

  “Me. He wants me. You already know this. I have said as much before.”

  “Yes. You have. But what I find interesting about that, new girl, is how you do nothing to stop his endeavors to achieve that end.”

  I stopped in the middle of the hall, which nearly caused Oz to slam into me. When I turned to face him, a heat boiling inside me that was as foreign as my newfound wings, I was met with a fiery stare. We were both raging on the inside.

  “Please, Ozereus, tell me. What would you have me do? Kill him?” I asked, knowing that it was an impossibility. At least it was for me. “If you have suggestions on how best to thwart his advances, I am open to hearing them, but I know that you do not. No one could possibly know how to do something that cannot be done. Deimos is a storm you weather, not an opponent you slay. You would be wise to keep that in mind the next time you challenge him so derisively, Oz.”

  He cocked his head, curiosity playing upon his expression.

  “You sound as though you’re concerned for my safety, new girl.”

  “I am simply informing you about the enemy you have most certainly just made.”

  “Will you do the same for him, I wonder?” he pondered aloud, raising his eyebrows in contemplation. “Will you tell him all my secrets for him to use to his advantage?” I could almost feel him ruminating over all the possibilities.

  “I know none of your secrets,” I countered.

  “Playing both sides would be wise.”

  “I do not wish to play at all.”

  His gaze dropped to my chest for a moment and then back to my eyes.

  “Pity that.”

  I stepped toward him briskly, forcing his eyes to meet mine.