Daimon (Guardians of Hades #6) - Felicity Heaton Page 0,47
the room turned gloomy, oppressively silent.
Daimon looked at Cass and Megan, and then back at his brothers. “I think everyone should move into the mansion.”
That didn’t meet with the resistance he had expected.
Everyone nodded.
Well, everyone except Keras.
“We can layer in new wards, enough to keep the daemons out.” Cal glanced at Keras, who dipped his head this time.
“I will ask for several.” Keras’s green gaze slid to his left to land on Cass, who was still too pale for Daimon’s liking. “You cast a barrier around this place?”
She shifted to face him and nodded, plastered on a façade that couldn’t hide her true feelings from Daimon. She was worried. He was worried too. He didn’t want the enemy near her, and the thought that they were after her had him on the verge of losing himself to the darker side of his blood, the protective and possessive side that had come from his father.
“What other magic can you do?” Keras said.
Cass stood, waving away Marinda when she tried to help her, and walked on what she probably thought were steady legs towards his brother. In Daimon’s eyes, she looked ready to collapse again, stoking that need to go to her, to make her take his support and not let her push him away as she had with Marinda.
Now wasn’t the time to be prideful.
She had taken a hit, was shaken by it, and that was fine. It was okay to be weak sometimes. It didn’t mean she wasn’t strong. No one here would question her strength or think less of her if she let her true feelings show, revealing how badly this had shaken her.
“Offensive magic, defensive too, like the barrier.” She sounded distant, as if she wasn’t quite there in the room with them.
Daimon took a step towards her, driven by a need to be close to her, and she looked across at him. “Is there any other magic you can do, anything not classified as offensive or defensive?”
Her black eyebrows rose, her gaze unfocused as she looked right through him, a thoughtful edge to her expression.
“You healed Mari.” Cal rubbed Marinda’s arm through her dark orange sweater. “Maybe they want you for that.”
Cass tensed.
It was the smallest tightening of her shoulders, but Daimon noticed it.
“Whatever you just thought, spit it out,” Daimon said as he took a step towards her.
Her blue eyes shifted to his and she looked as if she wanted to tell him ‘no’, but then she sighed and her shoulders relaxed. “There is magic I researched, but I’ve never performed it before. It’s forbidden. No witch has used such spells in centuries.”
“What spells?” He didn’t like the feeling of dread that settled in his chest.
She cast a glance around them all, gauging their reactions. “Necromancy.”
Shock crossed his brothers’ faces in a wave.
Cass quickly raised her hands, her palms facing him. “I never attempted it. I only know the theory. What others have done. I’ve only read notes and reports from other witches, centuries-old accounts that are probably more fiction than fact.”
Cal took a hard step towards her, a storm building in his eyes, the tips of his blond ponytail catching a breeze as he stared at Cass. “Do you think you could restore a soul into a body?”
Cass’s gaze shifted to Cal and her black eyebrows furrowed, the flicker of emotion in her eyes revealing that she knew the path of Cal’s thoughts just as Daimon did. “Maybe… but I wouldn’t do it. I’m sorry, Calistos. It’s too risky. The chances of that soul coming back… wrong… are too high.”
Keras reached out and laid a hand on Cal’s shoulder. “We will find Calindria’s soul and find a way to guide it to the Elysian Fields. That will be enough for her. She will be happy.”
Cal turned on him, his face darkening as the breeze that swirled through the room gained strength. “But if we could bring her back—”
“No.” Ares cut him off, his voice a deep growl, harder than Daimon had heard it in a long time. “Tampering with her like that… Cass is right. What if something went wrong, Cal?”
Their youngest brother blanched as the wind suddenly dropped, swallowed hard and looked at them all, his eyebrows furrowed, desperation written in every line of his face. “But…”
He didn’t seem able to finish that sentence.
He just stood there, looking between them all, a storm raging in his eyes that slowly abated, leaving his irises blue again.