The feisty little angel and her penchant for blades.
Fuck, how he missed that night. How he missed her.
But that wasn’t the topic at hand. He needed their daughter to understand the history to be able to work through the present.
So he told her everything he knew, including how the council members were all the oldest and most powerful of Seraphim kind. How each councilman or councilwoman was the head of their proverbial bloodline, and each line possessed a power or trait.
For Caro, she came from the messenger line, her natural gifts allowing her to conceal her whereabouts. She also inherited a healing ability from her mother, but it remained dormant inside of Caro. At least for now. The Fates had said she would need it one day; however, that day had not yet come to fruition.
Gabriel’s father, Adriel, was the leader of the warrior line, which had Astasiya snorting, “Of course he is,” in the middle of Sethios’s lecture.
After he detailed the structure of the family lines, he went into the society operations and how Seraphim governed themselves. “The council is in charge of every decision,” he told her. “So if your grandmother was pulled out of her sleep, it was under their authority. And it would have been with the purpose of finding your mother.”
“She was the only one who could do it, other than you, me, and Sethios,” Gabriel added then. “I thought I couldn’t locate her because she was underground—sort of like when Issac buried you. I couldn’t sense your location at all when I should have been able to.”
“So it’s entirely possible that she’s still drowning,” Issac replied.
“Yes,” Gabriel agreed. “Except there are other signs we need to consider, such as Sethios not being able to sense her. When you bonded with Astasiya, I warned you that if anything like that ever happened to her, you’d be in constant agony as a result.” He gestured at Sethios. “He’s decidedly not.”
“I used to be,” Sethios said, thinking back on his captivity. “There were several times that I felt Caro die, never understanding who she was or why I experienced the death with her. But it subsided shortly after Osiris’s compulsion took over.” He frowned. “There were moments here and there where I experienced her pain, but it wasn’t consistent. Now it’s like she’s not even here.”
He recalled the first time Caro had died, how excruciating it had been to not understand why he felt as though he were drowning on land. The ache in his chest had nearly undone him, the anguish crippling his soul. Only it all disappeared a breath later, then repeated several more times that day until his father had arrived and silenced him with a command.
How long had that gone on? The hours or days of dying on repeat and being unable to scream or move?
He blinked. When had it all stopped? Had Osiris compelled it out of him due to boredom? Or had it been something else entirely?
“I thought you heard from Caro daily?” Issac asked, his focus on Gabriel. “Isn’t that what you said when you arrived in Hydria? Something about your headache?”
“Her visions haunt me, yes,” Gabriel replied. “But that’s more metaphorical. I don’t actually hear or see her, but I dream of her drowning every time I sleep. It’s vivid, yet always the same. Which is why I want to fully evaluate them now, to see if it’s a looping memory or not. I want to evaluate Stas’s dreams, too.”
“Mine are always different,” she replied, frowning. “They usually tie into something else. Like after the Conclave I attended, the drowning vision morphed into him torturing me like Sierra.”
“Who’s Sierra?” Sethios asked. He didn’t recognize the name.
“An Ichorian who found me in New York City and didn’t give me up to Osiris,” Owen explained as he entered the room and collapsed onto the couch beside Astasiya and Issac. “It’s my understanding that he made a show of her disobedience.” The words were flat, yet regret touched his dark features.
Sethios imagined the female had suffered greatly, especially if she was the star of the Conclave that night. “And you witnessed this show?” he asked his daughter.
“Yeah.” She visibly swallowed. “That was my introduction to Ichorian life.”
Right. Grand introduction, indeed. He narrowed his gaze at the Ichorian beside her. “You took her to a fucking Conclave?”
The male snorted. “Not by bloody choice.”
“One doesn’t just accidentally attend a Conclave, Issac.”
“I never claimed it was an accident. I stated it wasn’t by choice.”
“Elaborate,” Sethios demanded, ready to wring the male’s neck for endangering his daughter in such a way.
“Tom told her about the Arcadia,” Gabriel replied before Issac had a chance. “He thought it would be a good way to show her Issac’s true nature. He didn’t realize it was the night of a Conclave.”
“If you’d like to kill him for it, I’ll happily watch,” Issac said, his own fury over the experience palpable and somewhat cooling Sethios’s mounting ire.
“Look, I’m fine. I didn’t die. Can we focus on Mom now?”
“No, I have another question,” Sethios interjected. “Who the fuck is Tom?”
