The pain was completely gone. A warm blanket of light and love and safety folded all about him, tucked as neat as a downy comforter beneath his chin.
Juliana’s scent was all over his skin, in his nostrils, on his hair. She was real, alive.
She was not a demon.
She’s not a demon!
Ari came slamming awake at the revelation. He sat up, blinking, and realized he’d been sprawled out on the sofa. Conked out. Again.
Sophie squatted beside him, holding his hand between both of her small ones. “I didn’t mean to give you an overdose.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Of what?” Had they given him drugs? He didn’t remember that. All he remembered was Sophie Lowery rubbing her hands together like a happy little fairy, then placing them on his head.
“My power. I really don’t know what I’m doing,” she said sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“Second time tonight I’ve been out cold, but at least you didn’t make me hurt. In fact . . .” He rubbed his scalp, thrilled to confirm that the pain was gone. “It’s gone! The concussion is totally gone.” He leaned forward and gave Sophie a sloppy kiss of gratitude on the cheek, then looked around for Juliana. He didn’t see her and instantly panicked.
“Juliana . . .”
She is not a demon.
Somehow, some way, he’d heard that while in that place of healing. He knew enough about supernatural ability to guess it was some echo of Sophie’s power coursing through his veins, and she was a prophetess, so wouldn’t that mean that the small voice had been right?
“She’s with the Oracle and Leonidas in his study,” Sophie explained. “And with Ajax.”
“
I
should be in there, too,” he said, already on his feet. “Why didn’t they wait for me to wake up?”
Nobody answered, and there were some uncomfortable, awkward glances between his brother Kalias and Straton, and even River and Emma.
“River man, what’s going on?” he asked slowly, looking only at his best friend. “Did something happen while I was unconscious?”
Kalias sighed heavily and stood, walking toward him with his usual military bearing. “Aristos, you’re incapable of reaching an objective conclusion in this particular instance.”
Straton rose, too, standing beside Kalias; they formed a wall of muscle and strength between Ari and the open doorway.
“The meeting went on as scheduled,” Straton said. He always had been his brother’s pit bull on the occasions when he needed one.
Ari moved right up, close and personal to the duo. “I was barred.”
“Well, technically, no. You weren’t even awake,” Kalias said with a half smile.
“You’re not keeping me out of there.” Ari shoved his hands between both men’s shoulders, forcing them apart. “No way am I out of that meeting.”
Kalias moved slightly to the left; Straton didn’t so much as breathe.
“Listen, Spartan.” Ari pushed his chest against Straton’s. “You really do not want to get in my way tonight.”
“You aren’t clearheaded enough to reach any conclusions about this female,” Straton replied, unblinking as he stared up into Ari’s eyes. He was the stockiest of their immortals, with a thick build that made his chest seem even broader than Ari’s own. “Certainly not with your new power. A demigod’s strength is hardly familiar territory. You’re barely in control of—”
Ari cut him off. “Careful, bulldog.”
Straton plowed right over the warning. “We all see what’s happening to you, the way you’re changing. Don’t think River can cover for you from now on,” he cautioned icily. As if Ari had sought the power for his own gain or hoped to rule the universe with it.
Ari placed a hand on Straton’s waist. He knew the warrior despised being touched, so he did it just to fuck with him, getting so personal and all. “Careful, like I said. Or I just might use this new demigod’s power of mine”—he slid his hand a few inches inward, jabbing the center of Straton’s stomach with his forefinger—“to fry your shriveled old unmentionables right off.”
They eyeballed each other for at least ten more seconds; then Straton finally moved to the right. Ari gave the other warrior a shove with his shoulder as he passed, cursing all the way to Leonidas’s study.
So what if he’d just managed to win a pissing match with the shortest, coldest, and most ruthless member of their cadre. That was small-time stuff compared to the battle that awaited him in Leo’s study—a skirmish that would determine Juliana’s fate. And if those words he’d heard during his dream vision had been correct . . .
Then she was
his
Jules. And if so, it was going to be a serious issue if the Oracle didn’t vouch for her. What would he do then? Take Juliana on some road trip right out of a Tim Burton movie? Marry his sophisticated, beautiful corpse bride?
Nah, nothing about her looked freaky or morbid. She appeared, as a matter of fact, exactly as his sweet Jules always had, which begged a totally new question, one he hadn’t dared entertain throughout the evening’s chaos.
What exactly was he supposed to do with a Victorian-era socialite who’d chased him right out of her grave in Bonaventure Cemetery?
Chapter 12
“A
bout time you came glowering in here, Aristos,” Daphne said, smiling despite the Spartan’s dour expression.
The warrior glanced about Leo’s library, clearly searching for Juliana. Daphne walked toward the big man, extending both hands. She’d managed to conjure her usual Goth garb for the meeting, not wanting any of them to know that she’d been in Leonidas’s chambers when he “summoned her.”
She’d excused herself to his bathroom and, in a whirling flash, discarded her Olympian gown in favor of a leather mini and thigh-high boots. Her hair was spiky and short again, streaked with the cobalt blue she knew Leo adored. Of course, he seemed to treasure her in whatever form she came to him, whether that be a golden gown or plain street clothes. He loved her, a fact that should have brought comfort but only created more anguish in her heart.
As she’d emerged from the bathroom, he’d given her a wistful smile, brown eyes filled with longing. “I’d rather hoped to spend all evening with you.”
She’d tried to appear stoic. “We will always have our duties, my king. I see no way around that fact.”
“At times,” he’d answered just as stoically, “I wish to be an ordinary man.”
They’d fallen silent then, having already bared their hearts and souls. And, really, what more could be said when they had no future together? They’d walked to his study like true warriors, shoulder to shoulder and resolved. Ajax had entered with the young woman, explaining Juliana’s history until Ari had interrupted by storming into the room.
“Have you prophesied yet?” Ari asked as Daphne gathered his hands in her own.
She gave him a reassuring squeeze. “No need to worry.” She smiled up at him, noting the anxiety in his eyes. “Ajax already told me all about it.
All
about it.” She winked at him, but Ari never noticed. He was too busy glaring at his brother.
“What’d you say, huh?” Ari pointed an accusing finger at Jax.
Ajax shrugged innocently. “The facts are always helpful when asking for our Oracle’s time.”
Juliana’s auburn eyebrows quirked together. “Oracle? As in . . . Delphi?”
Daphne bobbed her head. “I’m a . . .” She sought for the best way to put it, not sure exactly how much Juliana knew about their unusual group. “Daughter!” she finished brightly. “Like Shay and Emma and Sophie.”
Juliana smiled in obvious understanding. “Like me. I’m a Daughter, as well.”
Daphne smiled in return. “Exactly. My particular gift is hearing the words of the Highest God. He guides these . . . uh . . . men through me.”
Ari cleared his throat. “So, not to rush you or anything, my lady, but how’s this gonna go down? I’m . . . well, I want to know if you think she’s the real deal or not.”
“Eager, are you?” Daphne teased, recalling Ajax’s description of Ari’s intense resistance to Juliana.
Ari glanced away, looking sheepish. “I need to know who she is.”
“Oh, but I believe you already do know.” Daphne settled into one of the chairs facing Leo’s desk. “Still, expediency is a good plan.”
“You’re ready?” Leo asked gently, facing her. He, more than any of the Spartans, realized the great toll her prophesying always demanded, both physically and emotionally. By positioning himself so close, he was offering his own protection and strength.
She smiled at him gratefully, closing her eyes. “I shall begin.”
At once, a great force began pulling at her, dragging her under as if she’d been caught beneath a massive wave. She felt herself tumbling, falling into a whirlwind, and rose into it, standing tall and reaching out her arms.
Suspended before her, she could see golden, shimmering words. With both hands, she outlined the letters, true joy filling her being.
“Juliana Tiades lives again,” she said, speaking the words beneath her fingertips. “She is good, not evil. Her soul lives forever; her body lives anew.”
She swayed on her feet, feeling weaker, and then strong arms rescued her.
Leonidas, my love
, she thought, and the words she’d been touching were gone. She tried to open her eyes, leaning into the king, but that dragging darkness pulled her farther down.
Then a second prophecy materialized, a more threatening one, and the words gleamed like a banner all around her.
Slowly, she began translating the message. “The Daughters of Delphi must gather . . .”
Ari strode to the window of Leonidas’s study, bracing his hands against the dark wooden frame. Books towered to the ceiling, and he wished only to find some answer on those pages. Correction: an answer he liked.
“Aristos, the words come from the Highest himself, and He has verified that Juliana is, indeed, the woman you knew and loved,” the Oracle’s musical voice reminded him. He heard a smile in her tone.
Well, she might have thought she brought jolly, happy tidings of love, but he sure as hell didn’t feel that way. No, he didn’t feel like rejoicing at all.
The first part of their Oracle’s declaration validated Juliana. It was the second portion that had been his undoing, stealing away every bit of life that she’d just breathed back into him. In its place, he’d inhaled bone-deep fear. Fear that Shay, with her training as a Deadly Nightshade, would declare Juliana as inauthentic, a demon from the darkest pit.
And no emotion contradicted his Spartan training and discipline more than fear. Which was why he’d separated from the group after Daphne finished her pronouncements. She’d stared up at him expectantly, with that damned joyous little gleam in her elfin eyes, but he’d said nothing. Just walked to the window where he now stood so he could get his shaking body back under his own command.
He continued staring outside now, searching for some answer, some sign, but the storm clouds concealed the moon. He glimpsed nothing except the vaguest outline of the far fence and stables. Pattering rain streaked the dusty glass, the long, dry winds suddenly done. “This tropical storm might get ugly in the next few days,” he observed.
“It’s tracking off the coast, not hitting shore,” Leonidas told him. “But that’s not our concern right now. Our Oracle has spoken; have you no response for our lady?”
Ari dropped his head forward, ashamed. He caught the rebuke in the king’s words, and he’d earned it. Slowly he turned, facing the others. Leonidas leaned against the edge of his desk, watching him, the Oracle at his side. Juliana remained in the far corner, positioned against the bookshelves with a weary, resigned posture. She had to be exhausted by now.
He gave her a rueful smile.
I believe now. I know who you are.
He did his level best to convey that with his eyes.
She stood taller in immediate reaction, as if energized by his show of faith.
The Oracle twisted a lock of cobalt blue hair around her finger, studying him. “Aristos Petrakos, for many years your younger brother was my only link with all of you. Only he could see or communicate with me—and he is a dear, beloved friend, but he’s never been easy.” She cast a smile toward his younger brother, who gave a light bow in return.
“And it seems,” she continued, facing him again, “that you aren’t making this moment easy, either. None of you Petrakos brothers
are
easy, I suppose. Well, except on the eyes, right?”
She waggled her brows conspiratorially toward Juliana. Then, as if remembering herself, she turned to their king with a wide-eyed, caught-in-the-act-of-ogling expression. “My apologies, sir,” she blurted, but Ari noticed that Leonidas hardly seemed mollified. In fact, he appeared . . . miffed.
The Old Man never got annoyed at their Oracle, not that Ari’d ever seen. She always seemed to have their commander wrapped about her pinky.
“So, anyhow,” she continued dramatically. “My point, Aristos, is that Juliana Tiades”—she walked toward the corner and, looping an arm through Juliana’s, led her forward—“is not a demon at all. She’s the woman you have always loved.”
Daphne smiled up at him, motioning him closer to Jules. “Go on! Take her hand. Show some affection, now!”
Ari smiled at Juliana, almost ready to reach for her. Then he froze, dropping his hand to his side.
“Aristos!” Daphne chastised sharply. “This is not the way to treat one’s lady love! You heard my prophecy; you know that the Highest God is blessing your relationship.”
“I heard the words.” He struggled to avoid Juliana’s stare. “But, Oracle, you are our guide. You have always ordered our steps with your words,” he argued, hating the way his heart hammered wildly, the trickle of sweat he felt along the side of his neck. “If you say she is legitimate, isn’t that enough?”
She gave him a kind, sympathetic smile. “In this instance, my own word is not enough. We must hear from Shay, Emma, and Sophie.”
He closed his eyes, the words stampeding through his mind all over again. Daphne had begun in a whisper, swaying back and forth on her booted feet. “The Daughters of Delphi must gather,” she’d proclaimed. But then she’d wavered physically, almost as if the words were too intense to be spoken. For a moment, he’d even thought she was going to faint, but Leonidas had been at her side instantly. She’d leaned into him, eyes closed, still caught in her trance.