Urian paused to look from her to the two dragons in the crowd below. “That,Medea, is the question we’ve all asked and no one will answer. All we know is that he’s a bloodthirsty beast who’s best avoided.”
Urian scowled atMedea as they talked inside the small private room in Sanctuary that was reserved for whenever the preternatural clientele became rowdy and needed a time-out away from human witnesses who might not react well to the reality of what they shared their world with. Barely more than a closet, their quarters were cramped, but it allowed them to not be overheard by any of the humans outside.
Or the Were-Hunters, who as a rule hadverysensitive hearing.
And given the fact that his sister had just told him about a mysterious plague that was about to destroy her people, he was glad no one could overhear them.
“Why are you telling me this? I’m no longer a Daimon.” He hadn’t been one in years.
Medea crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, but for all you know, this plague that Apollo’s sent could infect you, too. Whatever it is that Apollo unleashed on us is taking an awful toll. I know you hate our father, but—”
“Stryker’snotmy father!” he reminded her coldly. Thank the gods for that favor.
“Biologically, true. However, he did raise you as his own. His wife birthed you.”
“After I was ripped from the stomach of my real mother by that bitch you serve … and shoved into her womb without anyone’s knowledge or consent!” And Medea reminding him of how the gods had screwed him over wasn’t warming him to her cause.
At all.
Honestly, he’d had enough of being their bastard stepchild they kicked whenever they became bored.
“Thatbitch is also the mother of your current boss and the beloved protector of your real father and mother, don’t forget!”
Urian hissed at her less-than-subtle reminder about Apollymi’s position in his world. And the fact that he’d once loved her like a second mother most of his life. But he felt doubly betrayed by her for not telling him the truth, when she’d known it all those centuries. He was so angry at Apollymi for what she’d done that he had yet to even speak to her again after finding out the truth.
When he looked back and thought about all the years—no,centuries—he could have had with his real father … he wanted to kill her for it. How could she have done it?
“You have some nerve to come here and ask me to help Stryker or Apollymi given what they’ve both taken from me.”
It was cruel beyond cruel, even for them.
“I know that. Which tells you how desperate I am.” She swallowed hard. “They’re not the only ones who are sick, Uri. Davyn has it, too. He’ll die if you don’t help us.”
That news staggered him. Davyn was the one person he couldn’t bear the thought of losing. He’d kill himself first.
“Please, Urian. I lost my husband and only child because my grandfather—the grandfather ofyourbirth twin—was a bastard. Watched them both be slaughtered in front of my own eyes by the human vermin you protect. For no reason other than they feared us when we’d done nothing to cause their suspicions. We were innocent and harmless, minding our own business when they attacked us. So don’t think for one minute you own some kind of market share on pain. Because trust me, brother, you’re a novice. You’ve no idea what I went through in my mortal life or this one. I’m sorry for what Stryker did to your Phoebe. I am, but I’ve lost too many to sit back and watch the rest die and not do something to at least try to help them. That’s not who I am.”
It wasn’t who he was either, and she was wrong about her pain. He’d lost more children than she had. He knew exactly the pain of her loss. While he might not have birthed them, they were his children all the same.
A single tear slid down her cheek as her eyes turned haunted. “Praxis was five years old, Uri. Five. And he died in agony at the merciless hands of those human bastards, screaming for me to help him while they …” She choked on her words. “Tell me, Urian, how am I even sane, given what they violently stole from me? No amount of time can dull a pain that sharp!”
Urian knew her pain. Firsthand. And he hated that anyone had to go through it. He pulled her against him. “I’m so sorry, Dee.”
Her breathing ragged, she pushed him away from her. “I don’t need your pity. It’s worthless. You can keep it, especially if you’re not going to help me.”
Urian caught her arm as she started to leave. “Wait!” He wanted to deny her this request. In truth, he wanted Stryker to go down in flames and to laugh as he watched it happen.
But Medea was right. He couldn’t allow the rest of what had once been his family and friends to die and do nothing.
Not if he could help it.
“There is one thing that might be able to save them.”
“What?”
He hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to help them, but because he didn’t know what Stryker might do with the cure. In his hands, it could prove most lethal.
No good deed goes unpunished.
