Unmade (Unborn #4) - Amber Lynn Natusch Page 0,22

enable.”

“Care to share?”

I looked to where my brothers had disappeared upstairs, then to the withered being hanging from the shackles on the wall, unconscious from whatever had just transpired. Even still, I was reticent to speak about usurping Sean in his presence—my years in the Underworld had taught me better.

“I will tell you, I promise, but I cannot do so now.” His expression darkened further. “You must trust me, Oz. I will tell you when the time is right.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed, headed for the stairs, “like right before it gets someone killed.”

We joined the others upstairs to find Muses sitting on the couch, hunched over with his elbows propped on his knees, his head in his hands. The others peppered him with questions, of which he answered none. Whether he was unable or unwilling, I could not be certain; either way, the change in his demeanor was stark and unnerving.

I walked over and sat beside him, not at all concerned by our proximity. He slowly lifted his gaze to me, and I found nothing more than confusion in his blank stare.

“Are you well, Brother?” I asked.

He forced a mischievous smile. “Your concern is appreciated, Sister, but I fear you’ll only anger the Dark One if you remain where you sit.”

“I will remain as long as it suits me,” I countered, “and until I deem that you have recovered from whatever just occurred in the basement.”

His eyes fell away at the mention of what had happened. “Something about his mind…it’s not right.”

“How so?” Sean asked. I looked up to find his eyes a dark shade of green, a mixture of the brother I knew and the warrior Ares had hoped to create.

“I don’t know,” Muses replied. “It’s…it’s unreachable. It nearly killed me trying to breach it, and then it cast me out.”

“Perhaps their reincarnation has affected their ability to be inspired,” Pierson said matter of factly.

“I could summon Hermes,” I said, a darkness growing within me at the thought of the winged god—Hecate’s lover—the one who wished to rule in my father’s stead. “He and I have unfinished business, as it stands. We could try it on him and see if the problem is universal amongst the risen gods.”

“That’s a solid idea,” Casey said, staring at Muses, “when you’re up to it.”

Muses scowled at our brother and rose. “Bring him to me now.”

“Maybe you should take a quick breather before you nearly get yourself killed again,” Kierson said. His sentiment only fueled Muses further.

“I said, bring him to me now!”

“Khara and I know how to summon him,” Oz said, “but I’m not going to do it for you.” He looked down to where I sat. “Your call, new girl.”

I rose to join the crowd of warriors looming above me. Then I turned to Muses, the frustration of failure and need for redemption blazing in his eyes. But it could not eclipse the shadows underneath them, or his gaunt cheeks, or the slight waver in his stance.

“No. I will not summon him now. We have other matters to attend to first, like finding somewhere else to live. Let us not forget the enemies currently hunting me—hunting us. We need to leave the Victorian. When you are well, Muses, we will summon the messenger god, and together, we will find a way to break his mind—then Dionysus’.”

Before he could argue, I turned and walked to the foyer, Oz and the others falling in behind me.

“What about the asshole in the basement?” Casey asked.

“Leave him for now,” Sean replied. “I will return for him soon.” He looked to Oz, his distaste for the Dark One plain in his stare. “Ozereus will join me. Together, we’ll find somewhere safe to stash him.”

“Well, that’s one of us,” Casey said as we stepped outside. For once, luck was in our favor—not a pair of black wings could be seen flying through the skies above or lurking in the shadows around the Victorian.

But something else was. The familiar hiss of Azriel echoed toward us from the porch next door.

“Princesss,” he said, his statuesque form turning to leather before my eyes. He stalked toward us, eyes darting around in anticipation of an attack. “I sssee you are well.”

“What news of the Dark Ones do you have? Of the one whose name we do not speak?”

“Danger isss upon thisss city,” he said, stopping just short of us. “You mussstn’t ssstay here.”

“Way ahead of you, big guy,” Oz said.

The gargoyle eyed him cautiously, as one bold enough to stare Oz down