Bait N' Witch (Brimstone Inc. #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,42

daughters were fates.”

Chapter Sixteen

“What the hell are you talking about?” Greyson demanded.

The chocolate Rowan had practically force-fed him had eased his shaking, but he wasn’t anywhere near full strength yet. Would he need it to face down a demigod? Given the heavy glare Castor was directing at his daughters, fear speared icy fingers through Greyson’s heart, along with a shot of adrenaline spiking his blood.

He couldn’t lose them, too.

Greyson moved to put himself bodily between the threat and his children.

“Cas, darling,” Leia placed a steady hand on the demigod’s arm. “You’re scaring the children.”

“Those aren’t children,” Castor spat. “They are the three women who set the fates of all beings—man, demigod, and god alike. They determine the lengths of our lives and the dates of our deaths. They are responsible for every shortened life, every person we loved who died early, every unjust death.”

All three girls gasped, and Rowan, standing closer, wrapped her arms around them. If glares could kill, there’d be a fried demigod on Greyson’s wood floors right now. In a show of solidarity, Nefertiti suddenly appeared from wherever she’d been hiding and also placed herself in front of the girls, tail straight as a board, hissing a warning at the demigod.

“What is he talking about, Daddy?” The waver in Atleigh’s voice broke his heart.

Leia tugged on Castor’s arm. “They obviously don’t know what you’re talking about. Stop scaring them.”

“There has to be some mistake.” Marrok stepped forward now.

“Stay out of it, old friend,” Castor snapped, not removing his eyes from the girls.

Greyson raised his hands, ready for whatever came his way. “Marrok’s right. You’ve made a mistake.”

“Do they join together in a trace?”

Holy hell. The blood shot to his feet, draining from everywhere else, leaving him lightheaded. Could my daughters be fates? Only, the things they talked about in that trance, more like they were talking to someone, not about them. It didn’t fit.

But he couldn’t focus on that now. Not with an enraged demigod standing before him.

Castor zeroed his gaze in on Greyson. “I know these women well. They killed my first wife. They’ve killed everyone I’ve ever lost.”

By now the girls had started sobbing behind him. Greyson gathered what tiny amount of strength he had inside him, preparing to fight.

“Calm!” At Rowan’s single word, a sense of serenity poured through Greyson, starting in his chest and moving out to his extremities like a river of peace and tranquility. He didn’t lose sight of the danger, but the anxiety and adrenaline pumping through him moments before dissipated in the wake of the magic swirling through the room.

Castor, too, relaxed his stance, releasing his hands, which had been fisted. Even his blue eyes dimmed slightly. Behind him, the girls quieted.

“Whoa,” Tala muttered. “That would be a handy trick with wolf shifter pups. Any time you want a job, you have a place with us.”

Slowly Greyson turned to face his nanny, whose pink-tinted skin had gone sickly gray. Her hands, which she still held up, shook horribly. Rowan tossed Tala a wan smile. “No, thanks. Takes too much energy.”

Still holding her spell, she leaned against the wall. “Now. We are going to discuss this calmly and rationally. Got it?”

She glared at Castor. “These girls were born almost thirteen years ago. Whatever argument you had with the fates, Chloe, Lachlyn, and Atleigh are not them. We don’t know what their power entails yet, but you don’t get to blame them for some kind of past life. Do you understand?”

How she managed those words with such force, given her visible exhaustion, Greyson had no idea.

She’d never looked more beautiful, putting her own health at risk to protect his children as though they were her own. But he couldn’t help her—not until he knew his daughters were no longer in danger. He turned back to Castor. “They are my natural-born children. I was there to witness their first breaths.” Even as he’d witnessed his wife’s last. “You will not harm them.”

Contrition and confusion warred in Castor’s eyes for a long moment as he stared at Greyson’s daughters, lips compressed, jaw working. “I apologize,” the demigod finally said. Any remaining aggression visibly leaked out of him as his shoulders dropped. He addressed the girls directly. “Forgive me. You just…look exactly the same.”

Leia snuck her hand into her husband’s.

“Everyone okay, then?” Greyson spun at the sound of Rowan’s hoarse whisper. “Good,” she slurred. Then she dropped to the floor in an unconscious heap.

Thankfully, Castor moved with the speed his father, Zeus, had gifted