They stared at him for a long, silent moment. Eventually, each of them nodded. He didn't mention the god's visit or Anya's disappearance as he strode past them. He didn't mention Cronus or Anya as they entered the club. Still he didn't mention them as the men scattered in different directions, their gazes lingering on him in puzzlement.
When Reyes tried to move past him, however, he held out a restraining hand.
Reyes stopped short and glanced at him in confusion.
Lucien motioned to the table in back, the one he had previously occupied, with a tilt of his chin. Reyes nodded in understanding, and they strode to it and sat.
"Spill," Reyes said, reclining in his seat and staring out at the dance floor as casually as if they were merely discussing the weather.
"You researched Anya. Who did she kill to earn imprisonment? Why did she kill him?"
The music was a pounding, mocking tempo in the background. Strobe lights played over Reyes's bronze skin and dark-as-night eyes. He shrugged. "The scrolls I read gave no mention of why, only who. Aias."
"I remember him." Lucien had never liked the arrogant bastard. "He probably deserved it."
"When she killed him, he was Captain of the Immortal Guard. My guess is Anya caused some sort of disaster, Aias meant to arrest her, and they fought."
Lucien blinked in surprise. Smug, self-serving Aias had taken his place? Before opening Pandora's box, Lucien had been captain, keeper of the peace and protector of the god king. Once the demon had been placed inside him, however, he'd no longer been suitable and the duty had been stripped from him. Then he and the warriors who helped him steal the box had been banished from the heavens altogether.
"I wonder if she means to strike at you next," Reyes said offhandedly.
Perhaps, though she'd had the opportunity to do so tonight and hadn't taken it. He would have deserved it, though, no doubt about it. When they'd first come to earth, he and his friends had caused nothing but darkness and destruction, pain and misery. They'd had no control over their demons and had killed indiscriminately, destroyed homes and families, brought famine and disease.
By the time he'd learned to suppress his more menacing half, it had been too late. Hunters had already risen and begun fighting them. At the time, he hadn't blamed them, had even felt deserving of their ire. Then those Hunters killed Baden, keeper of Distrust as well as Lucien's brother-by-circumstance. The loss had devastated him, shaking him to the core.
Understanding the Hunters' reasoning had no longer mattered, and he'd helped decimate those responsible. Afterward, though, he'd wanted peace. Sweet peace. Some of the warriors had not. They'd desired the destruction of all Hunters.
So Lucien and five other warriors had moved to Budapest, where they had lived without war for hundreds of years. A few weeks ago, the remaining six Lords had arrived in town, hot on the heels of Hunters who had been determined to wipe Lucien and his men from the world once and for all. Just like that, the blood feud reignited. There would be no escaping it this time. Part of him no longer wanted to escape it. Until the Hunters were eliminated completely, there could be no peace.
"What else did you learn about Anya?" he asked Reyes.
The warrior shrugged. "As I mentioned outside, she is the only daughter of Dysnomia."
"Dysnomia?" He worried two fingers over his jaw. "I do not remember her."
"She is the goddess of Lawlessness and the most reviled immortal among the Greeks. She slept with everything male, no matter if he was wed or not. No one even knows who Anya's father is."
"No suspicions?"
"How could there be when the mother in question had several different lovers each and every day?"
The thought of Anya following her mother's path and taking multiple men to her bed infuriated Lucien. He hadn't wanted to want her, but want her—desperately—he had. Did. Truly, he'd tried to resist her. And would have, until he'd realized who she was and rationalized that she was immortal. He'd thought, She cannot die. Unlike a mortal, she cannot be taken from me if I indulge in her. I will never have to take her soul.
What a fool he'd been. He should have known better. He was Death. Anyone could be taken. Himself, his friends. A goddess. He saw more loss in a single day than most endured in a lifetime.
"Surprised me," Reyes said, "that such a woman could produce a daughter who looks so much like an angel. Hard to believe pretty Anya is actually wicked."
Her kiss had been sinful. Delightfully so. But the woman he'd held in his arms had not seemed evil. Sweet, yes. Amusing, absolutely. And, shockingly enough, vulnerable and wonderfully needy. Of him.
Why had she kissed him? he wondered yet again. The question and its lack of answer plagued him. Why had she even danced for him? With him? Had she wanted something from him? Or had he merely been a challenge to her? Someone to seduce and enslave, then abandon for someone more attractive, laughing at the ugly man's gullibility all the while?
Lucien's blood chilled at the very idea. Do not think like that. You'll only torture yourself. What was he supposed to think about, then? Her death? Gods, he wasn't sure he could do it.
Because she had aided him all those weeks ago, he now owed her a favor. How could he kill a woman he was indebted to? How could he kill a woman he'd tasted? Again? He gripped his knees, squeezing, trying to subdue the sudden rush of darkness flowing through him.
"What else do you know of her? Surely there is something more."
Reyes gave another of those negligent shrugs. "Anya is cursed in some way, but there was no hint as to what kind of curse."
Cursed? The revelation shocked and angered him. Did she suffer because of it? And why did he care? "Any mention of who was responsible for cursing her?"
"Themis, the goddess of Justice. She is a Titan, though she betrayed them to aid the Greeks when they claimed the heavenly throne."
Lucien recalled the goddess, though the image inside his head was fuzzy. Tall, dark-headed and slender. An aristocratic face and fine-boned hands that fluttered as she spoke. Some days she'd been gentle, others unbearably harsh. "What do you remember of Themis?"
"Only that she was wife to Tartarus, the prison guard."
Lucien frowned. "Perhaps she cursed Anya to punish her for hurting Tartarus in order to escape?"
Reyes shook his head. "If the scroll's timeline was correct, the curse came before Anya's imprisonment." He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "Perhaps Anya is exactly like her mother. Perhaps she slept with Tartarus and infuriated the goddess. Isn't that why most women wish ill upon other females?"
The suspicion did not settle well with Lucien. He scrubbed a hand over his face, the scars so puckered they abraded his palm. Had they scratched Anya? he suddenly wondered. Beneath the damaged tissue, his cheeks heated in mortification. She was probably used to smooth perfection from her men, and would remember him as the ugly warrior who had irritated her pretty skin.
Reyes traced a fingertip over one of the empty glasses perched on the tabletop. "I do not like it that we are in her debt. I do not like it that she came to the club. As I said earlier, Anya leaves a trail of destruction and chaos everywhere she goes."
"We leave a trail of destruction and chaos everywhere we go."
"We used to, but we never enjoyed it. She was smiling as she seduced you." Reyes scowled. "I saw the way you looked at her. Like I looked at Danika."
Danika. One of the humans Aeron had been ordered to slay. Reyes wanted her more than he wanted to take his next breath, Lucien suspected, but had been forced to let her go in hopes of saving her from the gods' brutality. Lucien thought perhaps the warrior had regretted the decision ever since, wishing to protect her up close and personal.