Unmade (Unborn #4) - Amber Lynn Natusch Page 0,20

much fun as this showdown would be to watch,” Muses said, drawing their attention to him, “we should be off. Time is of the essence, as they say. Though do feel free to continue this once we’re done.”

“I can take you all there in one trip,” Trey said, breaking the growing tension. We all crowded around, placing our hands on our escort. Then I felt one snake around my waist, pulling me back against a firm body.

“To be sure you don’t get lost on the way—or decide to bail out,” Oz said in my ear. Before I could reply, that strange sensation of magical travel overtook me.

We arrived on the sidewalk, all of us staring across the yard at our former home. The one that stood tall and proud before us. The one that was decidedly not destroyed.

7

The paint was peeling off the exterior, as it had been when I had first laid eyes on it. The windows were dirty. The shutters were missing or hanging askew. Everything about the Victorian was just as it should be; it remained a cleverly camouflaged base for the PC in a decaying neighborhood.

And it had most certainly not burned down.

“What trickery is this?” I asked, heading toward the front step. Oz’s hand tightened around my waist.

“The fear god, that’s what—or who.”

“Stay here,” Sean said, striding toward the building as though it were the enemy—which was a possibility. He jumped the steps to the porch and kicked in the door, as though the knob were not safe to touch. When a glamour did not fall and the building did not burst into flames—again—the others started to file in after him, leaving Oz and me on the sidewalk, his grip on me unrelenting.

“I do not understand…”

“I think that feeling is universal, new girl. Now, tell me again about what happened when you came here, and don’t leave anything out. We need to figure out how he managed this.”

I repeated the events in vivid detail, up through turning to leave for the Underworld.

“Wait,” he said, bending down to look into my eyes. “Say that again.”

“I said I felt different as I ran away. The pain in my head abated, and my fear lessened.”

His eyes narrowed. “It was a trap, all right,” he said, hauling me alongside him as he entered the house. The basement door was open, the sound of arguing echoing up toward us. Oz all but dragged me down the stairs to where my brothers stood before a thinner, angrier former god of debauchery. “Hate to break up this party before it starts, but are we going to talk about how Deimos’ brother managed to pull this off?”

At the mention of Phobos, Dionysus started to laugh, the sound of it growing more maniacal with every passing moment.

“He nearly had her,” he said, laughter tainting his words. “When she tore through this place calling her brothers’ names...he was so close.”

Casey kicked his mouth, displeased with the prisoner’s input.

Dionysus spat blood at his feet. “She should pray he never gets her…”

Silence fell upon the crowd until Sean broke it.

“Everyone upstairs,” he said. Like good soldiers, the others all filed toward the living room. Oz looked at me, and I nodded. He led the way up the steps, and I followed, Sean at my heels. He closed the door behind us, shutting the former god in the basement.

Once upstairs, Oz relayed what he had surmised from my account of leaving the Victorian, until every wide eye in the room was on me.

“He cannot hold her mind,” Muses said. Where the others’ expressions were filled with concern, his held awe. He walked toward me, hand drifting up to touch my face. “She broke free…”

“And I’ll break your fucking hand if you touch her,” Oz snarled.

“Afraid of what she might admit?” Muses asked, the malice and mischief in his eyes clear. “Or what I might see?”

“Enough,” Sean snapped. “He wanted her to think the boys had been killed.”

“But to what end?” Drew asked. “To drive her somewhere? To trap her with fear so he could attack?”

“I don’t know,” Oz replied. “We likely won’t now.”

“Is it possible that what I saw at the Hallowed Gates was a ruse as well? That he drove me from there to the Victorian?” I asked. “Do you think he was here then, watching the whole thing? Waiting to strike as I wallowed in the remains of my brothers, paralyzed with grief?”

“Would it have worked?” Oz asked softly.

I nodded. “I believe it almost did—until I