Medea lifted one curious brow as she drew even to Zephyra, but said nothing as they followed Stryker down the hallway to the receiving hall. There in the dim light, the Daimons were gathered around a tall, lithe gallu female. Her long black hair was loose around her shoulders as she curled her lips in repugnance at the gathered Daimons.
Stryker didn't speak as he walked past her to the dais where his black skeletal throne waited. It shimmered in the dim light and looked as menacing and lethal as the man who occupied it. Zephyra followed him up, expecting him to protest. He didn't. With the presence of a god, he took a seat nonchalantly and stared at the gallu as if she were an insect on his floor he was about to step on. Zephyra took position on the right-hand side of his throne. She braced one hand on the top spindle that was carved into the image of a spine.
"You have word from Kessar?" Stryker asked the gallu.
"He offers you a chance to surrender."
Stryker laughed aloud at her stupidity. At Kessar's audacity. If they thought to make him blink, they were sadly mistaken. "I told him to quit sucking the blood of idiots. It's now infected his own intellect."
The female gallu snapped her fingers.
Two more gallu came forward with a Daimon in chains. It was Illyria, one of his Spathi commanders. Her pale blond hair was a stark contrast to her black clothing. True to her nature and station, she didn't beg as they brutally forced her to her knees.
But she was weak. Her skin held that ashen, iridescent cast that came from waiting too long to feed. Her body was starting to age and decay. Already she looked older than twenty-seven. In a matter of minutes, she'd become middle-aged.
"Give them nothing, my lord," Illyria spat, trying to fight the two gallu who held her.
"She will die if you don't surrender."
Stryker shrugged. "We all die, gallu. You should be more concerned about your own fate."
She raked him with a cold glare. "Your skin shows that you need to feed, too." She cupped Illyria's chin in her hand. "Look at her aging. Her bones are becoming brittle. She won't last out the hour. Even if you feed from one another, you will only die that much sooner."
Stryker maintained his air of nonchalance. "I'm not Sisyphus trying to restrain death. Illyria is a soldier. If it's her time, it's her time. I'm not at war with Atropos. It's her will to take us whenever she likes. My only goal is to die with dignity."
Zephyra was impressed by Stryker's demeanor and levelheaded negotiation. He wasn't the same as the boy she'd known. The man before her was fierce and not willing to be intimidated.
She could appreciate that. Just as she saw the aggravation in the eyes of the gallu. The demon was about to slip up.
And as Zephyra glared at the gallu, an idea came to her. It was bold but illuminating. She placed her hand on Stryker's shoulder and leaned forward to whisper into his ear. "Drink from the gallu. . . ."
Stryker went still at her words. Gallu blood was infectious. It could convert anyone who came into contact with it into one of them and make that person a mindless zombie for them to control. Did Zephyra hate him so much that she wished that fate on him?
He met her gaze. She was beautiful there, by his side. It was where she should have always been. Yet he didn't know if he could trust her. What she proposed . . .
It was suicide.
"Trust me," she breathed in his ear, sending chills down his body.
Did he dare? She'd said it herself, women were vengeful to the end.
Her dark eyes seared him and told him nothing about her intent. She could be setting him up to live.
Or die.
"Take the gallu's soul," she said in a tone so low he wasn't even sure he heard it. "Kill the bitch and she can't control you."
Losing patience, the gallu cleared her throat. "You are completely cut off. We will take all of you down. Your only hope is to surrender and beg mercy from Kessar and the rest of us."
The universe would shatter to pieces before he begged anyone for anything.
Stryker rose slowly to his feet. Zephyra still gave him no clue as to her mood or intent. If she was being honest. Or setting him up.
No matter, he wasn't one to be bullied ever. Descending his dais, he walked toward the gallu. The two holding Illyria tightened their grips, ready to kill her should he move on them.
"Sriana ey froya," he said in Atlantean to Illyria. Succor them and destroy them. He glanced at Illyria and felt his eyes change. No longer silver, he knew they were now glowing red. He was calling forth the god powers inside him. Turning back to the gallu, he locked gazes with her.
She stiffened instantly as her will was negated by the one blessing Apollo had forgotten to take from the Apollites when he'd cursed them.