Daimon (Guardians of Hades #6) - Felicity Heaton Page 0,114
to my Underworld.”
Daimon stared at her, too stunned to say anything as he realised she was with the enemy. He needed to warn his brothers, but he didn’t think he was going to get the chance. He wrestled against the restraints anyway, desperately trying to break them. If he could break the leather straps, he could step back to Tokyo. His pulse pounded faster as the brown leather refused to give.
As Nemesis smiled down at him.
Two Messengers appeared behind her, the black-haired males materialising out of the shadows, their mismatched—one green and one blue—eyes fixed straight ahead of them. Their black tunics bore silver detailing around the cuffs and fastenings.
They served his family.
Or they had served it.
Shock rolled through him as that revelation hit him and he bit out a curse. The enemy had even managed to turn these two males, and the gods only knew how many others, against his father.
Never in all his years had he imagined a Messenger would betray his family.
Nemesis’s hand drifted from Daimon’s face. “I will await your return, my beautiful slave. You will service me for eternity.”
She tilted her head slightly to her left.
“Take him.”
Chapter 32
Daimon blacked out at some point. When he came around, he was in some kind of loft apartment. Arched windows had been painted black, but as far as he could tell, it was daylight outside.
He twisted on the dusty wooden floorboards, his muscles protesting as he manoeuvred onto his side and realised his arms were bound behind his back. His vision wobbled, blurring and going dark around the edges before it cleared again. He shook his head, trying to shift the heaviness from it.
He felt as if he had drunk a barrel of ambrosia.
The room distorted again as he tried to take stock of his surroundings and figure out where he was being held. The exposed brick walls had been painted white at some point, but the paint was peeling now, and black mould crept across the ceiling from the top corner of the wall nearest the bank of windows.
No furniture either.
It looked as if no one had lived here in a very long time.
Daimon rolled onto his front, pressed his left cheek into the floorboards and pushed his backside up. He wriggled his knees forwards and gritted his teeth as he forced himself into an upright position.
Someone shoved him in the back.
He hit the floorboards face-first and growled at the person.
They weren’t powerful.
Not daemon either.
He shuffled around so he could peer over his shoulder at them.
The Messengers.
He glared at the one closest to him, the one who had shoved him, staring right into his mismatched eyes. “My father know you’re a traitor?”
The male’s eyes brightened dangerously, one glowing emerald as the other shone like a sapphire.
Daimon spat at his feet.
Got a boot in the face as a reward.
He grunted as he was flipped onto his back, his arms twisting painfully beneath him.
The male looked ready to level another blow at him.
Stiffened.
“Now, I do believe we said not to harm him.” The soft female voice echoed in the cavernous room.
Daimon’s gaze sought the owner of it.
Found her near a metal door a few metres south of his feet.
Her blonde tresses had been twisted into a plait that arced over the front of her hair, and her blue eyes were bright as she gazed at him, her rosy lips curling into the semblance of a smile.
If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought it was Marinda.
But he did know better.
He glared at the furie, letting her know exactly what he thought of her. Another traitor. The female didn’t react, just kept walking towards him, her eyes never leaving him. Behind her, the second furie entered the room, sighing.
“We will not be able to do anything until nightfall. Evening at the earliest.” She didn’t sound happy about that.
Daimon was.
It gave him time.
His brothers would be concerned about him by now. Cass definitely would be. He wasn’t sure how long he had been out, but he guessed it was a few hours judging by how well the lacerations on his back had healed.
His sorceress didn’t seem to be able to let him out of her sight for more than a couple of hours, something he had lamented once but was thankful for now. Providing she hadn’t changed that quirk of hers since she had staked a claim on his heart, she would be looking for him. He was sure of it.