Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“It could be, yes,” Cain allowed. “Also, knowing Adam, he will take this opportunity to gloat over the success of his plan. I suggest we let him believe that it is going as well as he may anticipate.”
“Why?” asked Ishtar.
“Because if he believes that our residents are playing his game just as he’d hoped, he won’t feel the need to change that game,” Cain replied. “Right now, his moves are easy to predict. Let’s not give him a reason to go off-script and take us by surprise.”
“Makes sense,” said Seth, and the others quickly agreed.
“Let’s begin the meeting, then,” proposed Azazel.
They filed into the blue parlor. Cain recognized the man sitting on the sofa as the same conduit who’d come here several times before on the Aeons’ behalf. Two of Inanna’s aides stood against the wall, on guard.
“Griff,” Cain greeted as the slender male stood and rolled his shoulders.
“Adam waits for you alone,” Griff told him, reaching out his hand, his fingers splayed.
Cain touched his own fingertips to those of Griff’s and, that fast, Cain’s entire surroundings altered as he projected his consciousness to the psychic space that the conduit provided. Everything was white—the walls, the floor, the eight wooden chairs. One of said chairs was occupied by Adam.
Cain’s monster hissed, slamming its unblinking glare on the Aeon it loathed with every inch of its being. It had wanted to shred Adam to pieces for as far back as Cain could remember. Only the fact that Adam had been extremely well-guarded at Aeon had kept the shithead alive all the years Cain resided there.
Cain would have been outnumbered, subdued, and then contained if he had acted on his hatred for this man back then. Subjecting him to pain hadn’t been worth Cain’s freedom, so he’d made no move, promising himself and his creature that they would one day get their vengeance. His cage alone had prevented that.
The creature hadn’t complained when Cain dealt Abel the killing blow, because it was satisfied that Cain would allow the monster the pleasure of obliterating Adam. If there was a way of causing physical harm to anyone in the psychic space, the creature would have killed him already.
Given the recent loss of Abel, Adam’s insides would no doubt be churning with fury. No one would think it to look at him, though. Instead of firing a look of such hatred at Cain that it would snatch a weaker man’s breath from his lungs, Adam did nothing. Said nothing. Merely sat very still, looking perfectly at ease.
After Saul lost his sister in the first recent battle, he’d looked a mess, overcome by grief. But Adam? His dark-green eyes were clear and calm. His stubborn jawline was loose and relaxed. His thick, copper-brown hair was neatly combed.
One thing could be seen in Adam’s eyes. There was an element of smugness there—he believed that all was going according to plan. There was no grief or devastation to be seen.
Then again, Adam wouldn’t be experiencing the gut-wrenching grief that a loving, devoted father would generally feel after losing his son. Abel had mattered to him, but Adam had treated him as more of a protégé and part of his legacy than a son. If he had loved Abel, it hadn’t been with a full heart.
Still, Abel’s death will have affected Adam on several levels. That he was so affected would be something he’d hate, something he’d consider a weakness. He would also despise that Cain—a person who was a living reminder of his ex-consort’s betrayal, a person he had wanted dead since the moment of his birth—had been the one to end Abel’s life.
The other Ancients were quick to enter the psychic space, and soon the seven vacant seats were occupied. Cain sat in the center with Seth and Azazel either side of him. None of the Ancients spoke. They simply stared at the Aeon, all looking varying degrees of bored.
“Tell me,” began Adam, sweeping his gaze over each of them, “how does it feel to have a divide among your people?”
“A divide?” echoed Lilith, an edge to her voice that said she hadn’t forgotten how he’d once treated her. Despite that the Aeon had no liking for her kind, he had pursued her relentlessly while also seeming to resent her for her effect on him. Viewing women as the weaker species, he’d genuinely felt that she had no right to object to his advances. He’d acted like a spiteful piece of shit right up until her brother stepped in.
Adam flicked a hand. “Oh, let us not play games. I know the type of beings you welcome to your town. Dark characters. All of them. So dark they would gladly act on generous bounties, even if it meant going against their neighbors and leaders. Such people are far too easily manipulated. Just how many times has the witch almost been brought to me?”