“The hell I am! You know, I could do that any time I wanted, and notice that I never have. That makes me a saint.”
Urian rolled his eyes. “Find out what Wulf Tryggvason is up to for me.”
“That burly Viking Dark-Hunter bastard?”
“Yeah.”
He screwed his face up. “Couldn’t even give me Corbin. Effing figures.”
As he started to disintegrate, Urian called out to him. “Thank you, Shadow!”
“You can thank me by not getting me killed, too, Daimon. Really, that’s all the favor I need.”
Oddly enough, Urian would settle for that himself because as he headed back to Kalosis, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something horrible was about to happen.
That feeling only intensified as soon as he returned home and his cell phone lit up with Wulf’s and then Phoebe’s number. The Muppet could wait. He called Phoebe first, but for some reason, he couldn’t get through.
Weird. So he tried Wulf.
Again, no signal. Frustrated, he went through his messages. The first one was Phoebe’s hysterical screaming, “Your father has mine! He wants Erik! What the hell have you done, Urian! What the hell! You better call me as soon as you get this! Oh my God!”
Um, yeah. What the hell was right.
He listened to the next one, which was Wulf.
“You motherfucking, worthless Daimon bastard! So help me, Thor, when I lay hands on you there won’t be enough left to flush, you hear me? You shitstain! You better call me back! Right now!”
Well, that was certainly not the way to motivate someone to want to dial you back, buddy. In fact, Urian had the urge to lose his phone.
And change his number.
Yeah …
Damn, Solren, what have you done? Gone for five minutes and what? You summoned the Furies? And their brats?
Disgusted, he headed for his father’s office, but Trates caught him in the hallway. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“What’s going on?”
Trates let out a tired sigh. “He’s on a rampage.”
“He’s been on one for days.”Ever since Erik’s birth.
“Yeah, but he’s all out of sorts at the moment. He had a conference with Apollymi. I don’t know what the goddess said, but he is fit to be tied. We’re all lying low for a bit.”
Rubbing his forehead as he listened to furniture hitting the walls, Urian grimaced. “Did he kidnap Jefferson Peters?”
“Who?”
“The heiress’s father.”
Trates shrugged. “If he did, I wasn’t in on it.”
“Is that Urian?”
“Run,” Trates whispered. “Just stay low till he cools off. I’ll cover for you.”
Thanks,Urian mouthed before he vanished. While he wasn’t a coward, he just wasn’t in the mood for anyone else to shout at him tonight.
