Page 127 of The Immortal's One
I’m not clairvoyant like Charmian. I can’tseethings. All I know is what I’m told or what I read. And right now, Adir is telling me the Immortal I trusted with a plan to help me get home is basically the God of Death.
My entire body shakes.
Hades.
Thanatos.
Hel.
Yama.
Osiris.
Different myths and legends Dad shared with me throughout my life, all involving a supreme being who oversaw the dead or controlled death for mortals, races across my mind with rapid, frantic speed.
Even if only a fraction of those stories are based on real events, I’d still be a fool not to fear Des.
The world tilts.
I stumble back and collide with the wall behind me.
The ground has been pulled from under me. The trust I’d placed in Des—and his brothers—shatters like glass crashing to the floor.
Why didn’t the brothers tell me?
Why hide it from me?
“So, you see…” Adir’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts, “Des and his brothers enforce rules to limit the power of other Immortals. All the while, they grow stronger with every new soul that enters this world… and inevitably leaves it. That doesn’t seem fair, does it?”
He closes the distance between us, his finger strokes my cheek. I stiffen, but I have nowhere to escape.
“No,” I whisper, nausea rising in my throat. “It doesn’t seem fair at all.”
Adir’s hand slides down and rests on my shoulder, his thumb brushing against the delicate pulse at the base of my neck. “I’m glad you see it my way, Darcie. That will make everything so much easier.”
Ice floods my veins. “Make what easier?”
He lowers his chin, his eyes locking with mine, burning with malicious intent.
“How about we move to somewhere more… comfortable?” With a flick of his wrist, the bars behind him dissolve into thin air, vanishing as if they’d never existed. “And I’ll tell you how you’re going to help me overthrow the Immortal Three.”
33
DES
Stares boreinto the back of my head. It takes effort not to scowl at the dozens of lesser Immortals suffocating me with their cloying perfume and cologne. Thane ordered me to be on my best behavior tonight. A lofty task. For more reason than one.
Lome sidles up next to me, looking refined in a dark tuxedo that’s a near match for mine. His slicked-back hair gleams under the candlelight hovering around the room. “You know, every bachelor in this room would gladly trade places with you if given the chance.”
I scowl at my meddlesome brother, but he’s not looking at me.
Lome surveys the ballroom in front of us with lazy indifference, but the lines tugging the corner of his smile betray him. He’s not as laid back as he’s pretending. None of us are.
The rebellion has proven they’re rash—unpredictable. They’d be fools not to use this opportunity to attack.
Immortals are just as susceptible to the effects of alcohol as humans, and the champagne hasn’t stopped flowing allnight. This ballroom is filled with inebriated Immortals who wouldn’t know up from down if rebels infiltrated the party. They have powers, but so do the rebels. Every Immortal in this room is a sitting duck.
The Council never should have organized this event.
