“Good.” Atropos’s lips tilted in a smile that made Satoru blink and most of the men and women in the room flush. Even dressed in human clothing and with her gold, laurel crown hidden, the Moira’s incomparable beauty and strength were undeniable. “My sisters and I look forward to your final decision on this matter.”Her tone hardened a little.“But you must make haste. The days until war is upon us are numbered.”
The meeting’s anticlimactic ending had Cassius breathing a sigh of relief.
The drone of New York traffic was a welcome distraction when he emerged from the U.N. headquarters with Atropos and Victor. He eyed the members of the press snapping pictures and barking questions from behind security cordons as they headed for the SUV that would take them back to their hotel. The Cabalista agents acting as their guard were holding the reporters back.
Not that they needed the protection. All they had to do was deploy their wings and they would be out of reach of curious eyes within seconds. They slipped into the back of the vehicle and pulled away from the building.
“Have you heard from Morgan and the rest of your team?” Victor asked.
Apprehension tightened Cassius’s chest. “Not yet. They should have reached their destinations by now.” He turned to Atropos. “I thought you were taking in the sights of the city today.”
“I was, but I had a premonition you would need my presence to convince the human council.” Faint lines wrinkled Atropos’s brow as she gazed sightlessly out of the window. “I would love to say we have the indulgence of time to cajole them into coming around to our way of thinking, but we don’t.”
Cassius’s pulse quickened.
Victor clenched his jaw. “Did you have another vision?”
“Not so much another vision as clarity of the one I already foresaw.” Atropos met their tense gazes, her unease clear. “It is always the case when a prophecy I divine is about to become reality.”
The dread curdling Cassius’s stomach intensified. “When will it start?”
“Elios and his army will descend upon this realm in seven days,”Atropos said somberly.“The war will begin in San Francisco.”
2
Morgan King eyedthe rundown establishment the airport taxi had delivered them to. Compared to the other colorful buildings lining the strip, it looked about as inviting as a war demon peddling its wares in a red-light district. The sign above the door did nothing to curb his skepticism.
“You sure this is the right place?”
“Yes,” Francis Strickland replied as he paid their driver. “My contacts are never wrong.”
“Your contacts told us this guy was in Peru.”
Strickland didn’t bat an eyelid at his faintly accusing tone. “He was.”
Morgan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, six years ago.”
He became conscious of the curious looks they were drawing. They weren’t far from one of the most popular beaches in Puerto Rico. Even amidst the tourists milling about the area looking for somewhere to eat, he and Strickland stood out. It wasn’t just their build that caught the eye. The aura they projected was enough to make anyone take a second look.
Morgan suspected it wouldn’t be long before someone recognized him. Though it was Cassius and his Goddess sisters who’d been pasted all over the news for the past couple of weeks, he’d always been hovering in the background behind his lover.
Strickland enteredViolet Dreamsahead of him. One step inside and Morgan decided he wasn’t going to risk touching anything on the menu.
Floorboards that had seen better days creaked beneath their feet as they made their way to the bar. He spotted roaches scurrying under the worn tables and chairs. Apart from a few diehard patrons who didn’t seem to mind a close dance with salmonella, the diner was practically deserted.
A man stood polishing a glass behind the counter. He wore a monocle, perfectly creased pants, a crisp shirt with a vibrant, yellow vest, and a bow tie.
He looked so out of place Morgan could only stare.
The guy didn’t glance at them as they climbed onto a pair of stools. “What can I get you gentlemen?”
“How about we start with two whiskeys?” Strickland said.
The bartender’s hands slowed for a fraction of a second. He put down the glass, twisted on his heels, and lifted a bottle of Jack Daniels from a shelf.
“Two whiskeys coming right up.”
Morgan caught a whiff of flames. Instinct born of centuries of battle had him unleashing a burst of black wind just as the man whirled round and lobbed the bottle at them.