47. Nat

47

Nat

for them

Of course, he was a creation of Love. Of course, his ichor hails from the very origin of beauty.

Hephaestus, the child Hera didn’t love, was cast down from Olympus for his appearance and weakness. A hobbled boy who crawled back to Olympus as a God to trick Aphrodite into marriage, only to love from afar as his wife continued her affair with Ares.

It’s a toxic love story.

It's bitter irony that the God of Craftmanship, capable of creating objects of unthinkable beauty and strength, was unable to capture the affections of the one he desired most.

The cruelty of the Fates.

The vicious actions of the Gods.

It's almost as laughable as a child of Love wanting to be with a Fury.

And still, neither God nor grandson quit.

“Eros,” I repeat, sitting up, elbows on my knees as I wrap my head around it. “Cupid. That’s what the mortals call him.”

“Yeah, he has a beard to limit cherub jokes.”

“He’s your father? I thought Ares …”

“Eros is less my father than Hades is yours. He abandoned me, a product of mere lust, to be with Psyche, his Fated. My mother was a mortal and she couldn’t fathom that he had left her. She hated that I was his. She left me on the shores of Cyprus when I was a few years old, and that’s where Hef found me. He took me in. Not his blood, but I was related to his wife and so ….” Sin trails off, and I map the sculpted cheekbones and soft lips that robbed me of my control when I’d first met him.

Of course, Hephaestus took him in. He probably looked exactly like Aphrodite. It's odd to think of him as half mortal. He looks so Divine. There's no sign of his mother's roots. Not even in his blood. That’s how powerful Eros's ichor is, so near to Aphrodite and Ares, Gods of the Dodecatheon.

Sin rests back on his heels. “All my life, I hoped I’d never find my Fated. All the females I encountered and engaged with were the ones I was certain were not her. It was lonely.”

I wait. Hating the story. Needing to hear it.

He takes a deep breath. “But I have only repeated the sins of my father.”

My ribcage tightens. “Lesenia’s greedy, obsessive love is not your responsibility.”

“Not her.” He runs fingers through his hair, likely wishing his curls were back. “You. I’ll leave them.” His gaze slides to the Blackguard aiding the Diakonos. “If you wish to go home to the Underworld, I’ll follow. If you want to stay with Theia, I’ll be the roommate you didn’t ask for. I'll go wherever you wish, do whatever you need.”

“You can’t mean that,” I whisper. “They’re your family. And what about your curse?”

“I can handle the pain if I’m with you.” He leans towards me, eyes blazing. “I’ve spent my entire life running from my bloodline and the inevitability of finding my Fated. But now, standing before you, I realize that I was ignorant to think I could escape it. A fool not to chase it.”

I shake my head, a desperate attempt to deny the truth. “Sin …”

His laugh is muted and wet. Sad. “Gods, you kill me when you say my name like that.”

“Hey lover boy,” Meda’s dry voice cleaves us apart. “You need to see this.”

I’m the first to stand, striding across the blood-soaked ground to the gathered Blackguard, ignoring my frantic heartbeat.

“What is it?” I demand.

Drake glares at me. “Quiet.” He nods at the body laid at his feet.

Theia. Black hair in knots and tangles around her head, pretty dress falling into the valleys and crevices of her prone form. Her chest rises and falls, and a small smile graces her lips.

“Look at her left shoulder,” Atlas instructs, hands securely tucked in the pockets of his black pants.

I crouch to her side, floating a hand over hers.

“Back up,” Sin grunts to his brothers. “Give them a little space.”

They do, falling back to give us privacy, though Atlas says, “I’ve never seen a Phoenix like her before.”

I don’t bother him with a response.

Obviously, she’s not a Phoenix. But since the curse isn’t wresting them apart as it did Sin, I’m guessing they have their own secrets too, ones that afford me a pass with this lie.

Luckily, Sin finds the silence uncomfortable and with his power simmering low after use, interrupts it with an arch of an eyebrow. “Rune’s running late.”

Atlas mentions something about a lost watch that I don’t listen to.

Instead, I lean over Theia, resting peacefully, and whisper, “Wake up faker.”

Her eye twitches.

In the year I lived with Theia, she’d only been able to sleep on a full stomach, flat on her face, with a fan on high and a gob of drool crawling out of her mouth.

“Do not,” she whispers, lips barely moving. “ruin this for me.”

I make a show of checking her heartbeat, her breathing. “You don’t have to pretend. They’re not going to hurt you.”

“Unlike you, I enjoy mysterious and handsome males carrying me.”

I shoot a discreet look at Drake as I turn Theia over, suffocating the urge to tickle her. “You’re enjoying his concern.”

“He’s cute.”

I sigh, brushing her hair off her shoulder and finding nothing more than Theia’s birthmark, the tipped shape of slightly lighter skin. Kind of like a flame, or a crown , Theia used to proclaim, citing she was the lost princess of Genovia.

I pause.

Glance up at Sin, at the same mark over his heart.

That’s why it seemed familiar to me. It’s not a birthmark. It’s a brand.

Anger rises within me like a wild fire, intent on eating everything in it's path. “Who did this to her?” I demand.

Drake stalks forward, doused in blood and carnage, and throws something thin and wet by my feet.

It's skin.

A patch of skin. With the same mark.

“I found it on Emil,” he says.

Fucking Emil.

“It’s Kadmos’s sigil,” Atlas explains, attentively observing me. “Most of the Diakonos claim they were given similar markings.”

“So Kadmos imprisoned these females?”

“No,” Drake whispers, gloved hand sliding under Theia's waist and picking her up. “No. He’d never hurt a female. Never trap a creature.”

“Right,” Atlas cuts in sharply. “But Zeus would strike down any who used a king’s mark without permission. It’d cause chaos, using God's marks freely, anyone could dispute their crests.”

“So someone’s setting him up,” Meda concludes from the ramp, strutting closer, Luke peels off from her side to secure the entrance. “Whoever used Kadmos's mark had to be smart or they'd never have stayed alive this long. A smart creature knows that if it got out that Kadmos owned Diakonos, his entire regime would be revolt. His own supporters would dethrone him.”

Atlas nods. “It goes against everything he stood for.”

“No.” Sin sweeps a finger over his own crest. A God’s mark. The only known method to permanently scar an immortal. “No. This is God’s made. Only Kadmos could use it.”

“Or those of his blood,” Atlas points out.

“Like,” Meda pops her hip out. “Say his wife.”

“Queen Vinia?” I ask.

'“Duh. Who else would send the Queensguard in to 'cleanse this mess'?" Meda uses air quotes and shudders. "If Vinia weren’t culpable, the Queensguard would have helped the females. That's her whole thing. But no, she opted to eradicate them. It has to be to cover up her involvement.”

“She never really liked Kadmos,” Sin notes from my side. “The marriage was arranged and mutually beneficial. She already had male heirs, and he needed to securely pass the crown.”

Drake’s features harden, understanding sparking within their haunted depths. He shifts Theia in his arms, her hair spilling like ink over his biceps. “It’d explain why she wanted Leni to marry into the family. She’s essentially be a built in bomb if anyone ever got close to the truth.”

“Leni is a Phoenix,” Sin explains to me. “She’s in hiding with our spymaster, but she’s lost her memories. That’s why we were searching for another, to either determine why a Phoenix would want to hurt Kadmos, or discover who might be able to control them.”

“No need anymore,” Lev grunts.

Sin nods, a curt gesture of assent. “New lead. New mission. Kill the queen. Easy peasy.”

Atlas meets Sin’s gaze. “Vinia wields the full might of the Queensguard, palace sentries, and maintains the loyalty of Kadmos’s supporters.”

“And she has her own gifts,” Zeke reminds. “She's a descendent of Hecate. A full blown witch.”

“She’ll hunt the females.” Drake looks down at Theia, something fierce and protective flashing in those hazel eyes. “They’re the only proof of her crimes. She’ll kill them, same as Leni.”

“No she won’t,” I say. “I’ll protect them.”

Sin expression is a blend surprise and admiration. “I thought a Fury’s duty was to punish the wicked and bring justice.”

“I thought I was more than a Fury?”

His smile is pure wicked delight. He wraps an arm around my middle, and tugs me into his side. “Someone really good- looking must have said that. I mean someone exceptionally attractive, with a personality to match. Someone—”

The blare of a horn blasts through the parking garage. A sleek low riding muscle car rumbles forward, polished exterior gleaming under the fluorescent lights as it pulls in to park. Rune is at the wheel, steady hands guiding with ease.

Behind him. A procession of SUVs rolls into spots, black on black, engines shutting down.

“About time,” Sin calls, arm slung over my shoulder.

Rune steps out of the lead vehicle, tall frame unfolding from the driver’s seat.

“Drivers vetted and secure,” he says, tossing keys to Sin, who catches them with a flick of his wrist, metal jangling against his palm.

“Perfect timing, as always.” He shoots Rune a grateful nod before turning to the assembled group, his voice taking on a commanding edge. “Load up the females. Make sure they’re comfortable and secure. We’re moving out. We’ll strategize at the safehouse.”

Rune nods, his gentle gaze sweeping over his brethren before landing on Theia’s seemingly unconscious body in Drake’s arms. A hint of concern crosses his stoic features. “Is she—”

“She’s fine,” I interject, my tone brooking no argument. “Just exhausted from the ordeal.”

I can lie for good, too.

“We need to move,” Atlas declares. “Before the Queensguard regroups or the Argos discover us.”

The Blackguard spring into action, their movements efficient and practiced. Drake cradles Theia securely against him, his eyes never leaving her as he carries her towards one of the waiting SUVs. The others follow suit, carefully guiding the rescued females into the vehicles.

I turn to Sin. “What safehouse? What is all this?”

“I made a promise to protect Theia.”

“What? When?"

"Up here." He taps his temple. “When I realized she was important to you.”

Emotion swells in my chest.

He cups my face in his hands. “I thought the Queensguard would save them, but when that changed, I had Rune activate one of our safehouses. Don’t do this alone, Natasa. Not every life’s weight is yours to bear. We’re with you, every step of the way.”

“Really?”

“Fuck yeah,” Meda hollers. “A Fury on our team? We can’t lose.”

Lev clears his throat. “Does this mean we can swear again? She won’t cut us up?”

“She won’t,” I confirm “if you stop talking about me as if I’m not right here.”

I glare and Lev lurches from me, three hundred pounds of beat anyone bloody terrified.

Sin’s response is sheer mischief. “I will never get tired of watching him flinch.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t hide the smile that spreads across my face. A team.

I'm part of a team again.

A team of thieves and butchers and foul-mouthed killers.

All swimming in black to lift the light higher.

And I can’t wait to wade in with them, to sink and kick and fight to ensure better survives.

“Come on,” Sin murmurs against my temple. “It's time for you to rest.”