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LUCIAN

W hile I had mostly been joking about letting Kleos do all the work, there was no denying that she was a considerable asset when it came to research.

It wasn’t the first time I was looking into something in company, but typically, people—erm, Ronan, Lucky, Gideon—had a tendency to get in the way, or at best, didn’t hinder me.

Kleos helped. No, Kleos did as much as me.

We finished books at the same pace. She took notes just as pointedly efficient and organized as mine.

She asked questions occasionally, to herself more than me.

“Could it be several rituals put together, to confuse us?” she muttered under her breath.

I pretended she was asking me. “Perhaps, but that’s unlikely; strong magic can go incredibly wrong when mixed up. Unless the person found compatible rituals…but they would have tried this before…”

As the words escaped me, I realized that this was a strong possibility. People didn’t wake up one day and just decide to curse a powerful witch—doing so efficiently. They must have practiced.

I wrote the word practice with a question mark at the corner of my notes.

These little interludes were welcome, often bringing something to my attention, and I took to asking her questions, too. Because Kleos was smart and knowledgeable, too. In runic . Who even liked runes? Other than me.

I had an excuse. Growing up, I didn’t have much company, given the fact that I was at risk of murdering everyone who came in contact with me.

The one exception was Ronan, only because his own power made him almost as dangerous as me.

Our respective parents figured out that if I messed up, Ronan would, in turn, make me live my worst nightmare, like a good little fury spawn, which would stop me from murdering him.

Even then, our visits were limited. So, I read.

I was fluent in ancient Greek by age ten—because that was my grandfather’s mother tongue.

Next, he taught me Latin, which made Italian, Spanish, and French a walk in the park.

My family spoke English, like most of Highvale, but I learned Viennese German for the opera my mother loved to attend on her birthday.

That was my norm. Books were a source of warmth and comfort.

Runes were fascinating because they were complex, a single line able to completely tweak the meaning of an entire spell, which was certainly not boring. They challenged me. Nothing much did.

Runes were no challenge to Kleos. She spoke them with ease—which was a mindfuck in itself.

My mind kept returning to what she told me about the book, the runes marked into her as a kid, and the old man. I was certain it related to the current predicament.

“Would you be up for a short trip?” I asked out loud.

Kleos lifted those ocean blue eyes up. “Hm?”

“A trip,” I repeated. “Perhaps a useless one, but it doesn’t have to take more than half a day. It could prove enlightening.”

“Sure,” she agreed quickly. “Where to?”

“Delphi, actually. Or very near it. There’s a portal leading straight where I want to go in the temple of Apollo, so we won’t have to fly or drive.” I hesitated. “I think your specific situation might potentially get us an answer.”

“…from Delphi ? As in from the Oracle of Delphi?” She blinked several times. “I mean, is there even one right now?”

I shook my head. “Not as such, but the Pythia was just the mouth who spoke the prophecies of Apollo. Technically, the actual convergence of magic still exists there. If what I read is true, Apollo sent the serpent Python all the way to Tartarus from that very spot; that means that there’s a disturbance linking the worlds right there.

The gods don’t give a damn about this planet as a whole, so it wouldn’t help a random tourist. But given everything that’s happened to you, it might be worth half a day. ”

I was shooting in the dark, here, but wasn’t it justified? “Plus, if there’s nothing, it’ll be a nice bit of sightseeing. We could hike from the cave I want to see into the actual town of Delphi, and visit.”

Hiking was certainly not one of my favorite activities, but there was a tiny chance the journey might be worth it in the end.

“I’ve never been. All right. I wonder if Gideon fancies tagging along?”

“Ronan might, too, if you don’t mind the company.”

I smiled, remembering that time my best friend and I hiked up the mountain, age sixteen, tipsy through most of the trip.

He ended up shouting questions at the Tholos, until I told him that temple was actually Athena’s.

The runes of the temple of Apollo were far less impressive, but he shouted all the same.

“Sounds good. He seemed lovely. When should we go, tomorrow?”

I shook my head. “I have another idea for tomorrow. Besides, I technically need to request the use of the temple’s portal.” Permission would be immediately granted, but that was not the point. “How about next week?”

I was reluctant to bring Kleos too far from my dungeon until after Friday, just in case.

“Sure. Let’s ask the temple and plan. What did you want to do tomorrow?”

I pointed to the question at the corner of my note. Practice?

“Your attacker didn’t suddenly jump to human sacrifices, and so expertly got away with it without leaving much of a trace. I’m thinking they started small. I want to visit the animal sanctuary we have down here, check if they’ve been notified of sacrifices marked like the three victims.”

She sucked in a breath. “That’s…brilliant. How the hell didn’t we think of that before?”

I smiled. “Wouldn’t have thought of it if you hadn’t asked about mixing up rituals. I guess it takes a few minds on one project.”

“I can’t believe how much further I’ve gotten today than, well, in weeks of research.

I mean, I still don’t have the exact rituals, but look!

It seems like there’s a precedent of ritualistic runes marked in this biography.

It temporarily allowed the caster to imprison a dark sorcerer who’d been luring and murdering little children at the time.

I so wish she’d written the spell, but it could be mine. ”

I checked the reference, making a note to read the book too.

“I haven’t found anything close before.”

“Herald Lewis. The name rings a bell. I think he was from here, from the city.” I wrote down the name of the author, too, to research it.

I might have journals, or other literature which could shed more light on the ritual.

I was about to say as much when we were both interrupted by the sound of a minor earthquake. I stared in disbelief at Kleos’s midriff. “Did that just come from you?”

“Well, not all of us can subsist on a diet of cupcakes, brownies, and cookies.”

Chuckling, I checked the time. “Oh, no wonder. It’s already ten.”

I would have never guessed we’d been here for over eight hours, but I often lost time in the library.

With a sigh, Kleos shut her book and got to her feet. “I’d better go. Gideon will want an update.”

I…didn’t like that. “Stay.”

I couldn’t say I meant to blurt that out, but the offer was made in any case.

“You can call Gideon while I cook. It’s the least I can do, after letting you starve like a terrible host. My father would disown me if he heard.”

She flushed. “Oh, you don’t have to.”

“You’re famished. It’ll take you an hour to get home, and longer to cook. Let me feed you. I can walk you home after. Or you can even make use of one of the many spare rooms, given that you’ll be right back tomorrow.”

She hesitated. “You don’t mind?”

“It will be my pleasure. And Zazel’s,” I added, with a general wave toward the demon on her lap.

“All right then.”

I stood and turned around before allowing myself a full-blown smirk.

Only when I was at the door did I think to pause and turn. “You should know,” I said slowly, “we’re not alone in the manor. My grandfather lives in the east wing.” Lamely, I added, “It’s his house.”

I half expected her to promptly leap to her feet and run away. I should have known better by now.

“Oh.” She frowned. “It’s a little rude to stay for so long and not introduce myself to the host. If he doesn’t mind the company, I could say hello?”

She wanted to say hello to my grandfather. The man who murdered hundreds of new bloods, people like her father’s family.

What was wrong with her?

“I can’t decide if you’re courageous or foolish.”

She shrugged. “If it wasn’t safe, you would have mentioned it before.”

Right. She was comfortable because she trusted me.

I decided to call her bluff, certain she’d back down, quick. “Shall I set the table for three, then?”

“Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything for dinner.”

Mad. She was completely mad.

“Nonsense. You made dessert.”

“All right. But I promise I’ll bring wine next time.”

I shook my head all the way to the east wing, knocking at the door of the greenhouse that had taken over the old ballroom.

The door creaked as it opened up. Inside, the dark plants seemed half threatening, half curious, swaying as though under the influence of a wind. “We have a guest,” I said without preamble.

The man seated on a sofa, feet flung over the arms, opened one silver eye, clearly wondering why, exactly, this concerned him. “She would like to be introduced to her host,” I added, still incredulous. “So, I offered dinner. She said yes.”

My grandfather had been alive thousands of years now, and sometimes, he acted like it—barely moving, like a statue long frozen into place, like every movement was painful.

Other times, he reminded us all that he was son of a Titan, and by every definition, a god. He was on his feet before my next heartbeat, his previously disheveled hip-length pale hair brushed back, and dressed in dark silk.

“My future granddaughter-in-law, I take it, then.”

I rolled my eyes. “She’s a valer, Cassius. And a Pendros, on top.”

That made him grimace. “That line. Nothing good comes out of it.”

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard him disparage them, though I’d never paid much attention. “Anything I should know?”

“The name’s a lie. A clever one. I can’t blame them—I certainly would have changed it too, in their place. Originally, they were Pandros.”

“All gifted,” I quickly translated.

He watched me in silence, with the familiar air of a teacher expecting more from his star pupil.

“You mean to say they come from fucking Pandora ?”

“Precisely. Built by Hephaestus under the order of Zeus to doom humanity, breathed into life and taught in all arts by Aphrodite itself. My father’s general advice was to run away at the glimpse of one of them. Particularly a woman.”

“I’m sure her parents’ advice would be the same where I’m concerned,” I counter, rolling my eyes.

What he was telling me seemed to apply to what I knew of Zenya Pendros, certainly. But Kleos was…something else. Something I’d only just begun to glimpse at. And I wasn’t ready to stop.

“Well, Cassius. Are you running?”