“That bitch 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. “You have some nerve to come here and ask me to help Stryker or Apollymi, given what they’ve both taken from me.”
“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.”
She saw the uncertainty that tormented him as she mentioned the one Daimon he still considered his family. While Urian might be angry at her parents and Apollymi, he would never turn his back on Davyn. Not after all the centuries they’d been more brothers than friends.
Not after all the intel Davyn had risked his life to bring to Urian.
The one truth about her brother—he was loyal above everything else.
Even his own pride and ego.
And they both loved Davyn and appreciated him for the rare Daimon he was.
“Please, Urian. I lost my husband and only child because my grandfather—the grandfather of your birth 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.”
Urian froze as if her words finally reached through his pain to open his eyes to a truth about his sister that he’d never seen before. “That’s why you tortured Jared, isn’t it?”
Medea winced at his mention of the Sephiroth who’d been held captive by her mother and aunt. To this day, she was ashamed of some of what she’d done to him while he’d lived in their custody.
But not completely. In her mind, he more than deserved everything they had put him through. “He turned on his own. Led them to slaughter for the very gods who betrayed us while his soldiers put their faith and lives in his hands. And for what? His own gain. Nothing more. He knew exactly how treacherous the gods all were and it didn’t matter to him. Only his bargain did. He let his soldiers die under his command. So aye, I took my anger out on him when it became more than I could cope with. How could I not? How could anyone betray people who trusted him the way he did? Sit back and let his enemies tear apart his friends and family. Brutally. I’d go down fighting to the bitter end for a stranger. And I’m supposed to be the villain. The hypocrisy of what Jared did to his army sickens me every time I think of him. He sold them all out to save his own ass so that he would survive that war. There’s nothing I hate more in this world than a coward.”
“Except humans.”
A single tear slid down her cheek as she saw the face of her baby in her mind’s eye. He’d been so precious and beautiful with his curly blond hair and bright eyes. Dimpled cheeks and a laugh that had come from the angels themselves. So innocent and sweet. Medea had never truly lived until the day she’d held that bit of heaven in her arms.
And her heart had followed him into his grave.
“Praxis was five years old, Uri. Five. And he died in agony at their merciless hands, screaming for me to help him while they…” She choked on the words that she still couldn’t utter. Not even all these centuries later. The horror was still too fresh and raw in her heart.
No amount of time had rectified what they’d brutally taken from her.
Nay, not taken.
Shattered. She might have physically survived, but inside she was as dead as her husband and son. Only a husk of the woman she’d once been.
And never again the doe-eyed innocent who once thought this world a beautiful place.
So instead, she glared up at her brother. “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!”
He pulled her against him. “I’m so sorry, Dee.”
Her tears dissolved into rage, as they always did. Because she couldn’t handle the full weight of her sorrow. It was a worthless, horrid emotion that made her weak and vulnerable. Anger motivated her. Rage kept her in motion past that most wretched pain.
That was the only reason she was still standing. It was what had seen her through the horrors of her life and what allowed her to function. It fed her like a mother’s milk and kept her strong. It was what she embraced with both fists.
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. After all, the bastard had cut Urian’s throat in cold blood and murdered his precious Phoebe—the only woman in the world he’d ever love.
But Medea was right. He couldn’t allow the rest of what had once been his family and friends to die and do nothing. Unlike Jared, he couldn’t stand by and see his friends slaughtered unjustly.
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.
Somehow this was going to come back on him. He knew it. Such things always did, and they left him bleeding and cursing. Yet even so, he couldn’t allow Medea to be hurt any worse than she already had. She was right. She’d been through enough, and at the end of the day, they were family. Maybe not in the conventional sense, but he felt a kinship with her. And he had grown up thinking himself one of Stryker’s sons. Thinking of Stryker’s daughter as his own sister.
Every time he looked at Medea, he saw Dyana’s beloved face. Remembered their time as children and the day they’d renamed her Tannis because they could no longer bear to call their only sister the name of their aunt who’d allowed her own brother—the god Apollo—to curse them to die over something none of them had participated in.
They’d all been innocent victims of a fetid power game between the ancient gods. All of them had paid a high cost to continue living, just to spite those who would see them fall for no reason whatsoever.
For better or worse, Medea was every bit as much his sister as Tannis had been. And because he loved her, he refused to add to her pain.
“I don’t know if it’ll work or not.”
Medea chafed at his hedging. “Oh for goodness’ sake, just say it, already!”
“A dragonstone.”
Pulling back, she scowled at him. “A what?”
Urian hedged as he sought a way to explain it. But it wasn’t as easy as it should be. “For lack of a better term, it’s an enchanted rock the dragons have. Supposedly, it can cure anything. Even death. It even brought Max back after he was killed saving his wife and children. So I would assume it could cure this, too.”
“Where do you get one?”
That was the easy part.
And the hardest thing imaginable. “As luck would have it, there’s one here.”
Joy returned to her dark eyes. “Where?”
He visibly cringed at the last place either of them wanted to venture. Because asking for help there was all kinds of rampant stupid. “That would be the stickler, as it belongs to Falcyn.”
“That surly beast I met earlier?”
He nodded. “To my knowledge, that’s the last one in existence. The rest were all destroyed or have gone missing.”
Medea groaned out loud as her stomach shrank at the very thought of having to negotiate with Falcyn over something so rare. It flipping figured. She might as well stick her head in the mouth of a hungry lion and ask him not to bite.