Now she knew why he’d said that. He had tried to keep them from getting too close. Because he was a good man.
Violet told Mia about the territory map she saw in Ferro’s office and what Kade had reported. “Have you heard about the Dragon deaths lately? A lot of them. I looked up some of the names Kade gave me. The ones I could find—dead. I don’t know whether they were Breathed or not, but given what’s been happening here, I’d assume so.”
Mia gave her an odd look. “You’re different than I thought you’d be.”
Jessup leaned closer to her, making Mia shift away. “Thought we were all idjits, din’t ya?”
Ryan smacked his arm. “Don’t mind him. He can be a butthead.”
“Boys.” Violet admonished.
Mia gave Ryan a softer look before laying out two pieces of paper she’d taped together. On it was a rough outline of a building. “Here are the exits, and over here is where the prisoners are kept. Over here is the psych ward, where…well, that’s where Kade will probably be. I had prison duty a few years back so I know how it works.” Her mouth tightened when she met Violet’s eyes. “And I’m going with you.”
“Are you sure? You can stay out of this, preserve your career.”
“My career with an agency that would kill innocent people? Who put my brother in prison for doing the right thing?”
“We don’t know if the Guard is wholly corrupt or if it’s just Ferro.”
“Either way, I’m out. And with you, I’m in.”
Drakos met with his two…well, he wouldn’t consider them friends by any means. Cohorts, he supposed. Once the gods existed in a magnificent plane, privy to all of the humans’ doings, receptive to their adulation and prayers. Then the humans turned their backs on them, more concerned with the physical world.
Alas, he was among the many gods who pooled their power to become physical, falling to the pleasures of physicality and even to the thrill of creating progeny. He and his cohorts, collectively known as the Tryah, were the first to see what a mistake that was as each bundle of joy sucked out a little more of their power. Inciting the war was a brilliant idea, reducing the numbers of both humans and Crescents.
Too bad it had resulted in the sinking of the island, condemning the fallen gods to a featureless plane and tethering them to earth and the Crescents they bore. But some of those Crescents had proven useful, tempted into service with their dreams, their weaknesses. Or for the rewards promised them.
“Things are not going well with your plan,” Drakos said to the Deuce god.
Fallon’s long, dour countenance soured even more. “My minions are being bedeviled by a Dragon duo. Worry not. It will be remedied by Purcell, my dedicated Crescent.”
Each god had their own way to see the plan through. Each thought his part of the plan was the best. Time would tell.
Drakos said, “My progeny, too, has run into trouble with a Deuce and Dragon. Amazing what one or two mere Crescents can do when they set their minds on something.”
Fallon made a growling sound. “They have become attached to each other. I suppose not unlike the lust we felt for the humans of Lucifera. But we would not sacrifice ourselves for their safety and wellbeing as some Crescents are willing to do for one another. It confounds me.”
“Love, they call it,” Drakos said, lifting his upper lip in a snarl.
Demis pulled his wings close around him. “Put your fangs away,” the fallen angel said. “They are unsightly.”
Demis was as stuck here as the rest of them. He thought he was better than a god. When he got too invested in his superiority, Drakos liked to remind him of his gaffe during their physicality. Demis had unknowingly mated with Dragon gods in human form, producing unstable, powerful hybrids.
Fallon lifted his hands. “Fight not. Once our plan succeeds, we can go back to hating one another. For now, we must work together. It helped us to succeed before and will do so again.” He turned to Drakos. “Remember, that dedication you so disdain is the same that they give to us. Those few who still do, anyway. Our minions are invaluable to our plan, after all.”
Drakos would not admit that he was right. “But they have weaknesses. My descendant has not been able to dispatch the troublesome Crescents.” Drakos filled them in on the circumstances regarding Violet and Kade.
Fallon nodded. “I can help where the Vega is concerned. Tell your minion that I will send my servant to him. Purcell will bring him something useful.”
“Thank you.” The words were always hard to push out. Gods rarely asked for help, rarely needed it, back in the—as the humans called it—good old days. It pained him, but the end of this torment was near.
From their plane, Drakos could see the energy of the solar storm approaching like a fiery tsunami. Small waves and flares already reached the physical plane. He took in the beauty of the coming storm. Freedom…at last.
Kade knew he’d played right into Ferro’s hands. Everyone in the building had seen evidence that he’d attacked his superior officer without provocation. His rants about conspiracies only lent credence to Ferro’s assertion that Kade had gone off the rails. It happened to Vegas sometimes. The pressures of the job, nightmares, and lack of a personal life all contributed.
The worst part was not being able to complete a mission that mattered more than any other Guard mission he’d ever taken.
No, the worst was not seeing Violet again, not helping her. Keeping her safe.
