“We called this meeting so that each group could bring the other up to speed on what’s been happening in Rome and Buda,” Sabin began. “I’ll go first. The Unspoken Ones want us to bring them Cronus’s head, but that little deed will free them, and if they’re freed…” He shuddered. “No telling what evil they’ll unleash.”
“However,” Lucien said, picking up where Sabin had stopped. “They’ve hedged their bets and asked the Hunters to bring them Cronus’s head, as well. Whoever succeeds in doing so, us or the Hunters, will be given the fourth and final artifact.”
The Paring Rod. No one knew what it did. Not really. Even if it was useless, Strider would’ve massacred an army to possess it. If there was the slightest chance it was powerful, and there was, it couldn’t end up in his enemies’ hands.
“But Cronus is a god,” Maddox said. And they’d all been up against the gods before. That’s why they were here, rather than in the heavens. That’s why they were demon-possessed. “We can’t contain him.” Despite the grim topic, the man had never looked happier.
Why? Later. The gods had always been more powerful than they were, able to strike them down with only a wave of their capricious hands.
“But he’s also possessed,” Cameo said. “His demon will have a weakness. All of ours do.”
Oh, the agony of her voice. Strider was too busy cringing to process her words.
“His demon is Greed.” This was said by Aeron, and the agony of his voice was a thousand times worse than Cameo’s.
Holy hell, Strider needed to gouge out his ears and—Wait, wait, wait. Backtracking. Cronus was possessed by Greed. Lucien had told him this already, but Cameo had made a very good point. All the demons had a weakness. That weakness made the warriors vulnerable. His was losing and the coma that followed. Anyone could attack him then, and he wouldn’t be able to protect himself.
What was Cronus’s weakness?
That kind of intel would be critical in a fight…not that he planned to fight the god king, but a guy had to be prepared.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Amun sign with his hands.
“What of Danika’s painting?” Strider translated. “The one where she predicted that Galen would take Cronus’s head?” For himself, he added, “I know we’re hoping we can change the course she saw, but maybe the way to change it isn’t to kill Cronus ourselves. Maybe we should increase our efforts to kill Galen.”
“But Galen has the Cloak,” Reyes said, striding to the couch, lifting Danika, sitting down and pulling her into his lap. “He might be harder to destroy than even a god.”
“Galen has the Cloak,” Aeron repeated, “so why hasn’t he acted against us? His troops have been here a while. So again, why haven’t they attacked us?”
Maddox shrugged. “Maybe they were waiting for their little Distrust experiment to succeed. And now that it has…”
“We have to strike first,” Aeron said, “and catch them unawares. Hopefully we can cut their numbers significantly, buy ourselves time to figure out what to do about Distrust and maybe even force Galen out of hiding.”
Good rationale, but was his bloodlust returning? Besides that glint of red in his eyes, his hands were clenched and his posture rigid.
“Will they be unaware, though?” Reyes asked. “What if they’re waiting for us to attack?”
The soldiers on the island had waited. That might be the new Hunter M.O. Plus, a lot of warriors were still recovering from that battle. They weren’t at their strongest, and their strongest would be needed for a victory of this magnitude. “And let’s not forget they’ve got Rhea on their side. No telling how she’ll aid them.”
“Not true,” Torin said, speaking up for the first time. He’d placed a speaker and monitor in the room so that he could attend the meeting without actually having to enter the too-crowded room. “I’ve spoken to Cronus. He’s distracting his beloved wife as long as he can today. That’s why I asked Lucien and Sabin to call this meeting now. Anything we do today, we do without godly interference. From the queen or the king.”
No one to hinder, but no one to help, either.
A murmur drifted through the crowd. And then a single word began to echo from everyone’s lips. “Yes.”
“We can’t sleep, anyway,” Maddox grumbled. “Not with Nightmares in residence. When are we going to get rid of her, by the way?”
No one had an answer to that. The other, however, was quickly decided. Tonight, they would attack.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
GIDEON COULD HEAR the warriors shuffling around above him. Their footsteps were harried, and he thought he even detected the click of guns being locked and loaded, the whistle of metal being sheathed.
He didn’t care. Didn’t budge. Nearly a full day had passed since he’d first entered the dungeon. After Scarlet had made her announcement—Lies, we’re together at last—she’d hissed a curse at him, said, “And now that I know it’s you, you can go,” then turned her back on him, lain down on her cot and ignored him, humming under her breath as if she hadn’t a care. She’d fallen asleep at sunrise, nothing he did or screamed able to rouse her, and had only woken up a few minutes ago as the sun set again.
She’d sat up with a gasp, her gaze frantic. When she’d spotted him, the wildness had left her, replaced by anger and resentment—neither of which he understood—and she’d flopped back against the mattress.
“I can’t stay here all day, you know,” he said. Torin, who watched him from the many cameras set up down here, must have felt sorry for him because Disease had long ago brought him a chair. A chair he had pushed as close to Scarlet’s cell as possible. His long legs were outstretched, his ankles propped on the bars.
“Go away.”
Hearing her voice after all that silence was like finding a pool of acid with Hunters already inside it: a whole lot of awesome. He even shivered. Thank the gods he’d never be able to admit that aloud, though. Em-bar-rassing.
“What, you’re ignoring me now?” she grumbled.
It would serve her right, as much as she’d ignored him. “Yep. Ignoring you.” Every cell in his body was attuned to every move she made, so even though he would’ve liked to give her what she deserved, he couldn’t.
Shameful. Men were supposed to be in charge, and women were supposed to be grateful for their attention. Men were supposed to give orders and women were supposed to obey them.
Okay, fine. He’d never wished for that before but he abso-fucking-lutely wished for it now. Didn’t help that Lies was freaking putty in her hands, quiet now, but humming softly in appreciation, just happy to be near her.
Another bout of silence ensued, and he knew she was punishing him. For what, though, he didn’t know. He hadn’t been the one to lock her up. Sure, he hadn’t set her free, either, but give him props for his intelligence, for gods’ sake. She would have run away.
Scarlet—he really liked that name. It fit her. Fit the curve of her wicked lips, the ease with which she flayed him and the darkness of her personality—scrubbed a hand down her face. “Just go, okay. I’m done with you.”
Finally. More talking. He’d stay here forever, he thought, just to be near her. Which didn’t make any damn sense! “My name isn’t Gideon.” There. Simple. Easy. And hopefully she would begin to reveal personal information about herself in exchange. Like how she knew him. Like how he knew her but didn’t remember her.
“Duh,” was all she said.
She knew? How? He doubted she’d tell him, so he didn’t bother asking. “I know a lot about you. Such as, you can’t enter other people’s dreams.”
“No shit.”
Not so simple. Not so easy. “I’d really hate it if you left my friends alone.”
“Well, then. Consider it done. I’ll mess with them all night long, just to keep you happy.”