Unmade (Unborn #4) - Amber Lynn Natusch Page 0,43
The basement was devoid of life altogether.
Including the former god of wine.
“Well, shit,” Oz drawled as he hurried to the wall where Dionysus had been shackled, eyes glowing. “Looks like we should have moved him sooner...”
“Hermes is to blame for this,” I replied. “He is up to something. I can feel it.”
“Hermes is a sneaky asshole. He always was up to something. That clearly hasn’t changed.”
“Do you think we were wrong to downplay their threat level? Do you think the gods are planning something?”
“Of course they are. You are the one being that can most easily end their little sabbatical from the Underworld. You’ve already taken out half of them. They won’t be so reckless next time.”
I stared at the blood-spattered wall and nodded absentmindedly.
“Did you learn anything from the Light One you sought out?” I asked, thoughts of my mother running through my mind.
His expression tightened. “Not what I’d hoped to.” When he did not expand upon his answer, I turned to face him. His eyes dimmed until their normal hue returned, leaving only the light from the doorway above to illuminate the space. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll tell you what you want to know when we’re not hemmed in by concrete walls—and chains. I’m still salty about the last set I saw.”
He turned and took the stairs three at a time. I followed him up to the living room and all the way to the top floor, where his old room welcomed us. I had already known where he was headed. The rooftop was his favorite place at the Victorian.
The air was colder than it had seemed when we had arrived, and the wind whipped my hair across my face. I turned to face Oz, who loomed at the edge of the roof—the exact spot where he had thrown me off.
“If you are thinking of repeating that stunt, I should warn you, I will not go willingly.”
His eyes fell to me, an emotion I could not comprehend—had never seen there before—dancing deep inside them.
“That night started all of this,” he said, turning his gaze to the ground below.
“My birth started all of this,” I corrected. “You merely did what you needed to do to keep my soul intact.”
He scoffed. “Not so sure I succeeded in that endeavor.”
“I am as I was then,” I said, stepping closer, “except for my fancy new tricks, as you like to call them.”
“Yeah. Fancy new tricks that seem to have some inconvenient limitations. Tricks you’ll need to defeat Deimos’ brother.”
“You are worried,” I said.
“I’m aware of what we’re up against.”
“That is not the same thing.”
He pinned his deep brown eyes on me. “Yes. It is.”
With nowhere else for that discussion to go, I changed the subject. “My mother…what did you learn?”
“Nothing helpful.”
“Did this Light One have any suspicions as to what happened to her?”
He shook his head. “Raze said that you were gone and she was gone, and that’s all he knows.”
I pondered his choice of words. “Do they think I had something to do with her disappearance?”
“He didn’t say and I didn’t ask, but there was a hint of something in his voice when he said it that gave me pause.”
“But I was locked in my room long after my mother left.”
“Were you locked in, or was that part of the fear god’s illusion—if it was an illusion?” he countered, his question casting light on a precarious point. To the Light Ones, it could very well look as though I had betrayed her—set her up to be harmed somehow after I had gained entrance to a world that would not have accepted me without her escort. Perhaps, to them, I was the enemy.
“And what of the other Light Ones? How are they reacting to this?”
“He didn’t say, but I’m sure there’s a certain amount of chaos there, as there always is when a leader falls.”
“You believe she is dead?” His lack of response spoke volumes. I chose not to acknowledge that possibility and offered another instead. “Persephone had some interesting ideas on the issue when I encountered her in the Underworld.”
“I’ll just bet she did—”
“She proposed the theory that my mother is not missing at all. That everything that happened was a well-orchestrated plan to draw me into the Hallowed Gates and imprison me, my mother being the mastermind behind it.”
Oz pulled away to stare at me, his brow furrowed with confusion and anger. “Fuck no,” he said, pacing the roof. “Persephone is just starting shit like she always does.