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“No, she’s destroyed.”
“I don’t get it. Who killed her?” Kobol asked, bending over and sinking his sancre into the last of the wounded daemons with perfunctory efficiency.
“I did,” Nadir spat out through her fangs. When she didn’t explain further, the others turned to Azimuth, knowing his truth sense would confirm or deny my claim. He nodded with bewildered confirmation. “Are we done here?”
“What aren’t you telling us?” Azimuth asked. An electric spark of his power laced down his sword, lighting up the room.
“I’m not the one withholding information, as per usual. Let’s go.” Nadir waited for the others to clean off and secure their weapons and gather around so they could all port back to the burrow at the same time. Leaving a cabal-mate alone at a location, even a cleared one, was never an option.
Her thoughts lingered on the sancre, hating Belial all the more. They hadn’t been given the full story, but she’d get to the truth, one way or another.
CHAPTER14
BLAINE
Blaine sat stoically on a low altar of carved oak, polished through the regular contact of his limbs over the grain from these past many years of service. His inner calm was rocked by the portents stirring his private shrine. Although Zeus hadn’t made one of his rare personal appearances today, the god might as well have for the wealth of messages scrawled out around the spacious room.
This secret alcove was in the penthouse suite of York Tower, as intheSebastian Blaine York Tower, and known only to the other Zeus devotees, or god-touched, as the uninitiated sometimes called them. Dim light provided by candles lit the cella, casting harsh shadows against the plain, gray-painted walls. At the center stood a larger-than-life Zeus statue trimmed with gold accents within the crown atop his head, the trim of his himation, even in the texture of his oak staff.
From Blaine’s vantage point, the statue appeared to glower. An unusual turn of events. Normally, the mood in this room reflected the god’s approval of his performance. Today something had been found lacking, and yet Blaine was certain nothing he’d done had fallen under the god’s scrutiny.
Blaine cast his gaze about, checking to make sure nothing in the naos appeared disturbed. The trophies on the plinth hadn’t been touched. The fresh offering of barley and wheat sat mixed in a bowl at the feet of the iconic statue. A bronze bowl filled with rainwater laid alongside. Between the two, a brazier with copal burned. He’d anointed and cleansed himself with the rainwater before entering the shrine, and even now wore only a pair of dark gray silk pants.
Everything should be in order, but here, in this place, he sensed the presence of the god powerfully.
Zeus’s displeasure gave color to an otherwise gray world.
Blaine had constructed this space years ago to curry favor with Zeus. The rectangular cella had doorways on the far end and was flanked by two aisles. Thirty-four Doric-style columns made of limestone in the old Etruscan style ringed the entire space. From the outer aisles, murals of the twelve labors of Heracles graced the walls in true fresco fashion, reminding the devotees of the heroism of the son of Zeus. If you’d devoted yourself to Zeus, this reminder tacitly implied the level of dedication expected: Absolute.
Blaine watched and waited. The disapproval drove him almost as much as his love of solving puzzles.
Patterns formed in the air, thunderheads of incense smoke invoking images of emotional turmoil. Smoke shifted, forming patterns of grass over the gray, baked, pentilic tile marble floor. No, not simply grass, but wet grass. Grass alone meant a blessing. Wet? Perhaps tainted, skewed, or just not how you’d expect it to arrive. The portent’s clarity left something to be desired. Then, up against a wall, the smoke formed a gate shape. It stood closed for many minutes before swinging open. Did it mean a new beginning or a new possibility of some sort coming up?
Blaine raised a brow, but he didn’t otherwise move, unwilling to disturb the ether of the room. He was content to wait until the energy played itself out. Emotional turmoil, a new beginning, and a potential blessing—or was that a curse—all played out in Zeus’s message tonight. No wonder the mood within the cella had turned dour.
Blaine’s phone vibrated in his pants pocket, and he had to stop himself from cursing aloud. He had it set to emergency contact only, therefore avoiding any superfluous contact while in devotion. Yet he wouldn’t,couldn’t, leave until Zeus had finished with him.
He waited, alert for additional signs, for another forty minutes while the ether cleared, but none appeared. Yet he didn’t regret waiting. Whether Zeus was simply testing him, or on some subconscious level communing with him, it didn’t matter. Once the presence of devotion had passed, Blaine arose, strode forward to the statue and placed his hand over Zeus’ on the oak staff.
He had no way of knowing if the portents applied to his legal clients, the other devotee members of the city council, or general issues relating to Denver as a whole. Regardless, he’d figure it out.
Blaine strode out of the cella, through the nave, and to the outer door. He activated the palm-coded lock with his hand, and the black metal door clicked open. He moved through to the dimly lit hallway beyond and closed the door behind him, which locked automatically. Gliding down the carpeted hall on silent feet, the sound of voices raised in anger came through the door at the far end.
Adrenaline spiking, he hurried his pace and slipped through the hidden door, entering his plush living room, ready for a fight.
Daniel, a devotee of Ares, had Blaine’s majordomo, Jake, by the collar, lifting him up onto the tips of his toes. Jake gripped Daniel’s forearms, trying to pry them off, but he had nowhere near the fighting skills as the devotee of war. That hadn’t been why Blaine had hired him.
“This information can’t wait! You alerted the Chief nearly an hour ago! What’s keeping him?”
Daniel’s single-minded focus on Jake prevented him from noticing Blaine’s swift, quiet footfalls on the plush carpet behind them. Blaine placed his left hand above Daniel’s right elbow, and with his right, he grasped Daniel’s right thumb from the tip to the base of the digit. Confusion swept over Daniel’s face as Blaine simultaneously bent Daniel’s thumb inward upon itself while also sliding the pad of his left thumb between thick muscles until it hit a nerve. The swift intake of breath and fading color to the man’s cheeks let Blaine know he had the man’s full attention.
“I observe devotion regularly at this hour. Daniel, kindly unhand Jake before I kill your grandfather.” Blaine applied extra pressure to his thumb, and Daniel squealed like a stuck pig. Daniel, sweat forming on his brow, released Jake, who staggered back a few feet, catching himself against the back of the couch. Normally quite reserved, his majordomo appeared to have his feathers ruffled and no amount of running his hands through his mussed hair or straightening his skewed shirt would fix the problem. Then Blaine noticed the bruise on Jake’s right hand and had to restrain himself from lashing out. “Jake, is the bruise on your hand the only one?”
Jake’s gaze flitted up to Blaine’s. He turned his face so Blaine could see the scuff mark coloring his right jaw. “Just these two. Man wouldn’t see reason.”
“You understand, Daniel, you owe my faction a penance for this slight. I expect all sworn Hellenes to behave with a higher standard of decorum thanthis,” Blaine spat out the last word.
“I’ll pay whatever you determine is reasonable, Chief.” Daniel’s voice came out strained through thin lips.
