Chapter 2

Chapter Two

CLIO

"I still can't believe you ran into three incubi," Kassia said with a shake of her head. "You have the worst luck."

Clio sighed as she considered a display of green beans. The market was crowded, the early afternoon sun casting golden light across the wooden stalls and busy shoppers.

She and Kassia had already been over the events of last night in exhaustive detail, but they kept coming back to the surreal experience of meeting three incubi in one place. They weren't exactly common.

"It wouldn't have been unlucky if I hadn't gotten so distracted," Clio replied moodily. "Under different circumstances, I would have enjoyed the view."

Kassia chuffed a short laugh. "I'm sad I missed it."

"I wonder what they want quicksilver for," Clio mused. "And why the one incubus smashed the vial …"

The mystery of his intentions had been bugging her since last night, poking and prodding at her thoughts. Though she had to admit it wasn't just the mystery that kept him at the forefront of her mind. Her brain seemed determined to replay every detail of his stunning face, perfect body, hypnotic voice, and soft touch on a permanent loop.

"Unfortunately," Kassia said with a shrug, "we'll never know. Have you decided what to tell Bastian?"

Clio wilted at the question. As a pair of grandfatherly men took her place in front of the vegetables, she shuffled toward the next stall.

"The truth," she muttered.

Kassia arched an eyebrow.

"The truth that I got distracted," Clio clarified hastily. "I don't think we need to mention what distracted me, right?"

Kassia pushed her long ponytail of fire-red hair off her shoulder, a cloth shopping bag swinging from her elbow. "It would be better to keep that detail to yourself unless he asks."

Clio tugged at the hem of her green sweater. The thin fabric wasn't doing much to block the crisp, early autumn breeze. They moved away from the produce stalls and toward a butcher shop that bordered the square.

Clio followed half a step behind Kassia, letting the taller woman clear a path through the bustling shoppers. People always got out of the way for Kassia. It wasn't just her fiery red hair or confident stride. It was also the tattoos that coiled from the backs of her hands up to her shoulders, left bare by her simple tank top.

Clio's hair was longer, falling down her back in loose blond waves, but compared to the tattooed redhead, her simple sweater, black leggings, and ankle boots blended in with the crowd—which she preferred.

"Don't beat yourself up, Clio," Kassia said. "It's not the end of the world."

Clio realized she was wringing her hands together. "Maybe not the end of the world, but these assignments are important. Bastian wouldn't ask me to do them if they weren't. What if not getting any information about that spell has negative consequences?"

Kassia didn't respond, unable to reassure Clio without lying.

"I should have done better," Clio said dejectedly. "Why did that stupid incubus have to distract me?"

Admittedly, it was her own fault. She was the one who'd stopped to stare at him.

"Maybe he used his seduction magic on you," Kassia suggested.

Clio stalled with her hand on the butcher shop door and squinted back at her friend. "His … what?"

"Seduction magic," Kassia repeated, her eyebrows shooting up. "You don't know about incubus magic?"

"No? Should I? What magic?"

"It's called aphrodesia. It makes women feel an unnatural desire for the incubus."

Clio's mouth popped open, then closed. Why would an incubus need to create artificial attraction? They were already so alluring.

"Isn't that kind of overkill?" she asked.

"I've heard it's extremely potent and can make women do things they wouldn't normally do." Kassia gave Clio a sideways look. "Like completely forget what they were doing or follow him into a dark alley."

A jumpy sort of anxiety twanged in Clio's stomach as she opened the door to the butcher shop. Had that incubus used his aphrodesia magic on her? Was that why she hadn't resisted when he'd held her close, touched her lips, and whispered in her ear?

Determined to think about something else, Clio stepped into the shop. Mismatched refrigerated display cases with glass tops hummed loudly as they cooled the selection of meats, and bare lightbulbs buzzed overhead. The pervasive noise almost drowned out the clucking of chickens kept in a cage behind the shop, ready to be butchered for customers who preferred fresh meat rather than taking their chances on something that could be older than advertised or improperly stored.

Clio peered at the closest options. Chicken was easy to come by, but pork was expensive and only the rich could afford beef. She'd heard that, decades ago, beef had been so common that people used to eat it every day. Hard to imagine that now.

She and Kassia selected a whole chicken—an already butchered one—then returned to the cluster of booths outside. Like the shopkeeper from last night, the vendors watched their customers with a combination of hope and wariness. The patrons moved brusquely between the booths, hurrying to finish their shopping at the weekly market and get home. They probably wouldn't be here at all if it wasn't the only way to buy fresh food in the city.

Clio followed in silence as Kassia picked out potatoes, carrots, onions, garlic, and a head of lettuce. The city square had reached near capacity an hour ago, and it wouldn't empty until the sun began to set. Once darkness encroached, the humans would make themselves scarce, and only the bravest farmers and artisans would stay to make a few final transactions with the city residents who rarely ventured out before nightfall.

"Are you tired of being afraid?" a man called over the chatter. "Are you sick of cowering from every shadow and every stranger?"

Quiet spread through the nearby shoppers. A dozen yards away, a bearded, middle-aged man stood on top of something to make himself more visible.

"Do you want to be free?" he yelled. "Do you want to walk the streets at night? You can! We can!"

"Not this again." Clio poked Kassia in the back to get her moving. "Let's go."

Kassia angled away from the man as his shouts attracted more curious stares.

"For over sixty years, the daemons have ruled us, using fear to control us, but salvation rests in our hands. All we need is the courage to act! We can send them back to hell, where they belong!"

Clio wrinkled her nose. A few shoppers lingered to listen, but most were dispersing as quickly as possible. The man continued to shout, ranting about daemons feeding off humans and blaming daemons for all of humanity's problems.

"Ridiculous," Clio muttered in annoyance as they entered a quieter corner of the market where the stalls sold handmade arts, woodwork, and other nonessentials. "Why is everything our fault?"

Kassia shrugged. "It's easy to blame a faceless enemy. Most humans can't recognize daemons in glamour. They just know we're out there."

"Humans could at least acknowledge that we aren't all from the Underworld," she complained to Kassia. "They know there are two daemon realms."

Two daemon realms—and Earth was forever caught between them, the neutral territory that daemons of both realms could access.

The Underworld and the Overworld. Clio wasn't sure when daemons had adopted the human names for their realms—much longer than six decades ago—but it had become commonplace. Even the word "daemon" was a human one, dating back thousands of years to when her kind had first explored Earth in secret. It was another catchall term, lumping all the wildly varied castes and cultures of both the Underworld and Overworld into a single monolithic identity.

And now that they walked openly—or semi-openly—among humans, "daemon" had become a fearful epithet instead of a whispered myth. Humans didn't have much motivation to differentiate between daemons when so many of them visited Earth primarily for a source of magic, blood, or hunting sport.

Clio didn't care for any of those things, and she didn't care what humans called her either, as long as they left her alone. Unfortunately, she couldn't escape them entirely—not until she returned to the Overworld for good.

And that depended entirely on Bastian.

Clio dug her hands into the wet soil. Heavy rain drummed on her head, running down her hair and clinging to the tip of her nose. The scent of fresh water and wet earth covered the city's stench, and she could almost pretend she was back home.

She curled her fingers around a plump bulb and wiggled it free from the earth. Brushing off the largest dirt clods, she set the bulb on the pile beside her.

Warm yellow light flooded the garden, and the screen door banged as it swung open.

"Clio," Kassia said with a sigh. "What are you doing?"

"Transplanting the crocus bulbs," she said, poking around in the muck.

"I thought you were coming out for some fresh air."

"I was." She eased another bulb out. "Then it started to rain. Good time to move the bulbs."

Kassia sighed again. "Bastian could be here any minute."

"He's late. He missed dinner."

"Something must have come up." Kassia walked over to her. "He still might make it."

"He's never late." She pulled up the last plant, then gathered the wet, muddy pile in her arms. Standing, she smiled brightly. "I'm sure whatever delayed him was important. I'll probably see him next month."

Kassia looked at her skeptically. "Where are you planting the … crocus?"

"Over here." Clio trotted to the opposite corner of the garden, crouched in a puddle, and scooped mud aside. "I think they'll do better in this spot."

Kassia watched in silence as Clio prepared a spot for the bulbs, mud coating her hands and splattering on her drenched clothes.

Clio knew she looked ridiculous, but she needed this—barefoot in the garden, her hands in the soil, cool rain on her skin, the leafy scent of life in her nose. Just as incubi craved women, she craved a physical, immersive connection with nature. Daemons' desires were inherent to their castes, as unchangeable as the unique magic they inherited as part of their bloodline.

"Clio …" Kassia's voice was low, almost inaudible over the rain. "What's really the matter?"

Clio's hands stilled. She stared at the bulb she'd just placed.

"I've been thinking …" She let out a long, unsteady breath. "It's been two years, and I don't feel like I'm any closer to going home than when I first got here."

Kassia crouched beside her, brows pinched with concern.

"I've tried my best with Bastian's assignments," Clio said, the words she'd been holding back pouring out. "But I don't know if I've done well enough. I want to prove myself to him—that I'm capable and dependable—so I can finally go home."

"You're here because it isn't safe for you in the Overworld right now," Kassia said gently. "These assignments don't change that."

Clio's hands clenched, and she stuffed them in the mud to hide them. Kassia was right; Bastian had never said that if she completed the missions he gave her, she would eventually accomplish enough to earn her way back home. But if the assignments didn't make a difference, she was simply stuck here, separated from her home and family, waiting and waiting and waiting until he finally decided it was safe enough for her to return with him.

"Clio, what do you think of Bastian's assignments?"

"Huh?" Clio squinted at Kassia through the rain. "I'm gathering information on our enemies. I don't feel guilty about it, if that's what you're asking."

"That's not what I meant." Kassia twisted her mouth. "Your assignments are getting more dangerous."

Clio shrugged. "It's nothing you can't handle if I really get into trouble." Balancing on the balls of her feet, she settled another bulb into the wet soil. "I want to help, Kass. You know why Bastian needs me."

Kassia pressed her lips into a thin line. She knew perfectly well that only a few individuals in the entire Overworld possessed the same unique gift as Clio—a gift that made her a perfect candidate for magic espionage.

Unfortunately, Clio's other skill sets had zero overlap with clandestine operations. Gardening and healing hadn't exactly prepared her for dangerous missions full of subterfuge and swift evasive action.

Kassia passed her a bulb. "I'm just worried about what will be next."

Clio packed wet earth around the bulb. She'd noticed the same pattern, but it made sense. As she grew more capable, Bastian could give her assignments that really mattered—ones that would make a difference.

Assuming she didn't get sidetracked by unfortunately timed incubus appearances.

She planted the last bulb and stood. Water dripped from her clothes and mud stained the fluttery skirt she'd worn for Bastian's visit. As the rain drummed on her head, she stared forlornly at the dark garden, aching inside.

"Come on," Kassia said, gently pulling her to the door.

Leaving Clio standing in the dingy kitchen that still smelled of roast chicken and seasoned potatoes, Kassia kicked off her shoes and went to fetch a towel.

Clio pushed a few wet strands of hair off her face as she looked around the shabby kitchen, with its peeling yellow wallpaper, cracked cupboards, and discolored counter. A stargazer lily with huge, dramatic pink blossoms sat in the center of the tiny table. Everything was clean, the dishes already done, the leftover food stored in the dented fridge that leaked water on the floor.

Bastian had bought this house for Clio. Kassia, too, was provided by Bastian. Or her salary was, but that didn't make Kassia any less of a friend. After two years together, just the two of them, how could they not become friends?

As though summoned by the thought, Kassia reappeared with a brown towel. She tossed it to Clio, then planted her hands on her hips and tsked . "I should have brought a washbasin for your feet. Maybe I'll just carry you up to the bath."

Clio flipped the towel over her head and scrubbed the water from her hair. "Fireman carry or bridal style?"

"Fireman, of course."

As Clio snorted in amusement, a loud rap on the front door cut through the house.

Kassia's humor vanished, and she turned on her heel, heading for the living room. Clio darted after her, only remembering her muddy feet after she'd already left footprints across the length of the kitchen. Well, too late to worry about it now.

Kassia peered through the peephole, then pressed a hand to the front door and disengaged the protective ward. She swung the door open.

Two men stood on the front step. The taller one was well muscled and intimidating even while standing still, but it was the short, slender man who commanded Clio's attention.

Bastian, heir to the Nereid family, crown prince of Irida, future ruler of the nymphs.

And her half-brother.