Unmade (Unborn #4) - Amber Lynn Natusch Page 0,21

broke his hold, as Muses said.”

“I bet the old one downstairs might know,” Sean growled. “The gods knew the fear god far better than any of the PC ever did.”

The basement door flew open again, and Sean stormed down to Dionysus. The rest of us followed in silence. By the time we reached them, Sean’s eyes were black as night and his demeanor completely different. Whatever had come over him made him seem like exactly who Ares would want to command the PC. His words to me suddenly made more sense—I could see how his perfect soldier had been tainted by the traits I had observed in the brother I had barely come to know.

“Tell me about him,” Sean said, yanking the former god off the floor by the throat.

“What is there to tell? His mind is broken—and now he comes for her.” His narrowed gaze fell on me.

“Where is he?”

He laughed. “I have no idea. I am not his keeper.”

“How do we find him?”

His laughter ceased. “Use her as bait. That would work nicely.”

A blast of cold shot through the room as Casey stepped closer to Dionysus, his blade drawn and ready.

“Try again,” he said, raising his dagger slowly, “because my sister isn’t bait, and she isn’t falling prey to that psycho. So you’re going to help us, or I’ll singlehandedly deliver you to the Oudeis…or wipe you from existence forever. You see, I am the son of Hecate—you know, the mistress of the dead—and I killed her, so her power is mine now, and your sorry ass belongs to the Underworld. Piss me off enough and I’ll take you there now. You’ll be back to eternal torment, with no chance to be reunited with your lover, or truly dead. Is that really what you want?”

The truth in Casey’s words impaled the former god, and the fight in his eyes disappeared.

Dionysus had finally been broken.

“I don’t know where he is, but I think I can help.”

“How?” Casey asked, his blade looming at Dionysus’ throat. “Do you know how to kill him?”

“No—but I know who does.”

“As do I,” I said, drawing his attention.

“Who?” he asked.

“Ares.”

Casey turned back to Dionysus. “Then you are of no use to us.”

“My patience is running thin,” Sean’s darker half said, grabbing the throat of the captive in his hand.

“Free me and I’ll get you what you seek—”

“Not a fucking chance,” Kierson shouted, his irritation growing.

“Or I could just force it from you,” Muses said, stepping closer. He drew his finger along Dionysus’ jaw. “You’ve looked better, old friend. Give me what I want, and I will see what can be done for you. Fight me, and Casey will have what he wishes.” He leaned in closer to Dionysus. “And I can assure you, he’ll take his time—I’ve seen it before. It’s a sight to behold...”

Sean stepped back and dragged Casey with him, allowing Muses room to work. Dionysus’ eyes went wide with fear. Muses stroked his face as he shushed him, the action meant to be soothing but somehow more menacing than Casey’s aggression or Sean’s dark-eyed side.

“Now,” he said, clamping his hands around Dionysus’ face, “let’s see what you’re hiding in here.”

Muses closed his eyes as Dionysus began to struggle. The rest of us looked on, awaiting whatever information Muses could pilfer from the former god. But it was not long before we knew something was amiss.

The expression of pain on Muses’ face was unlike anything I had ever witnessed. His features contorted with concentration and agony. His hands shook with tension as he tried to hold on.

“Something’s wrong,” Kierson said, stepping closer to aid his brother.

“Let me help him,” I said, following Kierson’s lead. I reached out to place my hands over Muses’ and soon found myself knocked backward with him. He landed on top of me, his body limp and covered in sweat. When he did not make a rude remark about our position, I knew that Kierson’s observation had been right.

Something had most definitely gone wrong.

8

The others soon surrounded us. Sean lifted Muses away, and Oz extended a hand to me. I ignored it and stood on my own.

“I am fine,” I said, dusting off my pants.

Oz’s hand fell away and he scowled. “Not sure Muses can say the same.” The crease in his forehead grew. “What the fuck was that, anyway?”

“I thought I could help him—”

“Yeah, I got that. But why?”

“Because we will not be able to get the answer from Ares without an unwelcome consequence—one I am unwilling to