Man, Dana, your powers truly suck. Of all the gifts a Misos could have, she’d been saddled with the worst one of all. She could sense disease, but she couldn’t do a damn thing about it. She wasn’t a healer. She wasn’t anything important. She was simply…a sensor. The prelude to the Grim fucking Reaper.
With a scowl, she pushed the useless thought out of her head as she popped the door and eased out of her red Saturn. She was ninety-eight years old and she had a couple hundred years to go before she made it to the Isles of the Blessed. If she made it to that elusive plane where the favored heroes dwelt. Knowing her dumbass luck, she’d wind up stuck in Tartarus for all the bad shit she’d done in this world.
And since that was just the king of all depressing thoughts, she wasn’t going there either.
She trudged up the three porch steps and dug around in the potted yellow chrysanthemums Casey’d planted until she found the hide-a-key. Shaking her head, she told herself to convince Casey to find a better hiding spot. Any two-bit thug would find this in a heartbeat. That despair came back full force when she realized neither of them would be around for that conversation.
Don’t dwell on it. Not your problem anymore anyway.
The house was cold and empty when she stepped inside. She flipped on a light in the living room and glanced at the coffee table where she was pretty sure she’d set her phone the night she and Casey had watched National Treasure and polished off a bottle of wine.
No phone.
Deciding that maybe Casey had moved it to the kitchen, she headed for the back of the house, twirling her key ring around her fingers as she moved while humming a few bars from Linkin Park’s “In the End.”
She was so preoccupied, she didn’t notice the change in temperature until it was too late. Until she was already stepping into the room and her breath was curling in wisps of white around her in the suddenly frigid air.
The first daemon stepped out of the laundry room, green eyes glowing, and studied her from head to toe. “You are not the One,” he growled.
Oh, shit.
Panic clawed up Dana’s throat. She didn’t think, just let instinct rule as she turned to run. And made it as far as the couch in the living room before the second daemon emerged from Casey’s bedroom, blocking her path to the front door. This one drew in a long whiff and uttered only one word.
“Misos.”
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
Dana’s adrenaline spiked. The daemon from the kitchen had followed her and effectively cut off her only other means of escape.
“Where is the One?” the second growled.
Dana backed up against the TV cabinet. She opened her mouth, but fear rendered her speechless. She started to shake.
“She doesn’t know,” the first said.
“She knows,” the second growled, moving closer. “Where would she go?”
Dana’s trembling intensified.
“To the colony,” the first said, easing forward. “If you want to live, tell us how to find her.”
“I—” Dana choked back a sob. “Please,” she whispered. “I can’t.”
A look passed between the two just before they lunged.
Dana never had the chance to scream.
Theron was not in a mood to go a round with this half-breed. He suddenly wanted answers that had nothing to do with Nick or the colony.
“I asked you a question, hero,” Nick snapped. “Of what interest is Casey to you?”
Theron’s jaw clenched, and impatience bubbled through him. He needed to find Acacia and figure out what in Hades she was up to, but the aggression flashing across Nick’s face held him up. The half-breed was itching for a fight, and from the looks of it, he wasn’t about to let Theron out of his sight until he got his answers.
Theron decided that being honest—to a point—was the best way to handle Nick so he could get the hell out of here and go find Acacia. “The king’s health is failing. He wants to meet his daughter before his time is up. I’m to take her to Argolea unharmed.”
Nick’s amber eyes grew wary. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Bullshit.” Those amber eyes flashed. “Either tell me the truth or I’ll have my soldiers throw you out by the scruff of the neck and beat you to a pulp in the process.”
Theron’s muscles flexed. “Try it.”
Nick’s upper lip peeled off his teeth. “Argonaut or not, you don’t scare me. We’ve existed for hundreds of years without your help. I doubt there’s anything good ol’ King Leonidas wants that Casey could provide. And I don’t for a second buy your load of bull.”
Theron didn’t answer.
Nick crossed the room in two long strides and got right up in Theron’s face. They were roughly the same height, close to the same size, and as the man got close, once again Theron had that strange recognition he’d had back in Acacia’s store.
“You’re dangerously close to death, half-breed,” Theron warned in a low voice. “I’d rethink what you’re about to do.”