Chapter 25 Leo
Leo
Above us, the house creaks and groans with the force of battle. Since we heard the first blast, we’ve been running. Diantha’s speed is impressive and she never once pauses to catch her breath.
“Orfeo,” she whispers, pressing one of her tiny hands to her chest. “Something is wrong with him.”
“Ignore it,” I instruct her. “Do not stop, Diantha. Do not give in.”
The tunnels beneath the manor house alone are at least a mile long, and by the time we begin the climb toward the entrance, we are exhausted and drenched in sweat and dirt.
“It’s worse,” she says. Her voice echoes around us. “He’s injured.”
“Impossible,” I grunt, digging my fingers into the steep incline and scaling the last of the tunnel.
The hatch door is right there. I can smell Misha.
Our blood bond is almost completely gone since we haven’t swapped blood or made love in years, but tonight—whether it’s the electricity in the air or her pure, unfettered magic—I smell her.
I reach the top of the incline and fling a leg up, breaking the hatch’s lock with my knee.
It slams open and a burst of cool night air drenches us.
I scramble out and then lower my hand to Diantha.
I always forget how cold and slippery humans are—like baby dolphins.
Regardless, I hook the woman under her armpits and haul her out.
We fall over each other, tripping up the steps leading up to the manor’s back entrance.
Before I can ask her if she has her weapon ready, the doors fling open and Misha bursts forward, running toward us at full force.
Her clothing is tattered and there’s a gash across her delicate cheek, dark blood dripping down her neck.
Her sickle swings violently from its holster on her back.
“Meesh—”
“There’s no time.”
She grips Diantha by her upper arms, yanking her up toward the house. “Come on, you have to move.”
“What’s happening?” Diantha’s voice cracks with emotion, the scent of her fear choking me.
I crowd Misha, trying to wrap her in my arms and calm her. “Slow down, Meesh. Tell us.”
“No, Leo!” She shoves me away, bears her fangs, and hisses. “They have him. Orfeo. They have him.”
“How the fuck—?”
“Alfo made some sort of pact of his own with Hades. He’s much stronger than anticipated. Orfeo and Sofia are battling back, but—”
Diantha rips herself free from Misha. Her face has gone green, her features twist and pucker. She throws her head back to the sky, and she screams. Blood curdling. Rage-filled. The muscles in her neck flex so hard I fear they may tear.
Then, she takes off up the steps.
I can’t prove it, but I swear to fucking Poseidon I see her levitate.