Acheron’s gaze turned sympathetic as he glanced down at the infant in his arms. “No, Urian, it’s not. Phoebe’s blood is in that baby. Erik carries her immortality with him.”
Urian hated him for that reminder that made him feel again. Made him care when he didn’t want to. In his mind, he saw how excited she was every time she talked about Erik and his imminent arrival.
“She loved this baby,” he whispered. “I could tell how much she wanted her own whenever she spoke of him. I only wish I could have given her one.”
“You gave her everything else, Urian.” Cassandra’s eyes filled with tears as she spoke of her sister. “She knew that, and she loved you for it.”
Those words broke him in a way nothing else had. And for the first time, he actually liked his sister-in-law.
Acheron was right. She was his family.
So was this baby.
And that stupid Muppet asshole.
Urian wrapped an arm around Cassandra and pulled her close. He laid his head down on her shoulder and finally gave in to the tears that had been choking him. Clutching him tight, Cassandra sobbed against his shoulder.
After a time, Urian let go and handed her Erik. “I won’t let your baby die, Cassandra. I swear it. No one will ever hurt him. Not as long as I live.”
Cassandra kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
His throat tight, Urian nodded and withdrew from her. He drew a ragged breath and wiped his tears off on the sleeve of his jacket.
“What an alliance, huh?” Wulf asked after Cassandra had left them. “A Dark-Hunter and a Spathi united to guard an Apollite. Who would have ever imagined?”
Acheron snorted. “Love makes strange bedfellows.”
Muppet scowled. “I thought that was politics.”
“It’s both,” Acheron said with a grin.
Urian folded his arms over his chest. “Would you mind if I slept in the boathouse?”
Wulf nodded. “Sure. Consider it yours for as long as you want it.”
Urian inclined his head to him and headed out, trying his best not to think about the last time he was here.
With Phoebe.
For Phoebe.
He’d barely reached it when he felt a strange presence behind him. It was one he knew all too well. He felt his arm heating up as he prepared to hurl a bolt at it.
“Oh now, akri-Daimon, don’t be doing that! You smack the Simi, and the Simi be sad. She not coming to hurt you. I just wanted to come bring you some barbecue chips and make you smiley ’cause you gots the hurts. Now put your arm away.”
What the hell? “Who are you?”
Tall and thin, she stepped from the shadows. Unlike the Charonte he was used to, she didn’t have wings or horns, or mottled skin. Rather she appeared human. Dressed in a short Goth skirt, with striped leggings and a corset top, she was adorable. Right down to her coffin pocketbook and tall, stacked heels. Her black hair had the same odd red stripe in it that Acheron’s did. Only she wore her hair up in pigtails.
Flouncing over to him, she took his arm and led him upstairs.
“You are a Charonte, right?”
“’Course I am. All the demons are.”
“Then why aren’t you in Kalosis?”
She made an adorably cute face. “Mostly ’cause the Simi’s not visiting akra-goddess. That’s why, silly!” She opened the door with her powers and led him in.
