Chapter 2
Josie
The floor of the massive mansion that belonged to Gable’s mother shook and rattled like it was nothing more than a piece of cardboard.
Shooting off the couch, I let the thin, soft-as-a-dream blanket fall to the floor as the rumbling became sound, a building roar that shook my chest and raised tiny goose bumps along my arms.
Eyes wide, I turned in a slow circle as books tumbled from shelves, smacking off the floor. Above me, a crystal chandelier, one that probably cost more than a car, trembled and clanked. Teardrop-shaped crystals fell to the floor, shattering into pieces. A tall, slender lamp toppled over, smashing its pale gray shade. Behind me, more books hit the floor.
“What in the world?” I whispered, voice hoarse and tired—tired from the tears that had been burning up my throat.
Something—something big was happening, and it could be anything. A horde of daimons. Another ticked-off, supercharged Titan. A wave of shades that had escaped from Tartarus. It could . . . it could even be Seth.
No.
He wouldn’t be doing this, whatever this was, no matter what Alex and Aiden believed about him. He wouldn’t put me in danger of the house caving in on me.
Snatching my titanium dagger off the end table, I darted around falling books and tore open the door, hitting the brightly lit hallway just as an explosion of thunder deafened my pounding heart. Glass shattered at the end of the hall, no doubt a priceless vase rendered to nothing more than shards. The house shook again. Art canvassed slipped from the walls as I raced into the grand atrium, my gaze immediately zeroing in on the scorched spot where Atlas had once stood.
The spot where the Titan had died.
And not too far from there, Solos had taken his final breath. That space on the floor was clear, wiped clean of blood, but for a split second I saw him staring down at his chest, at the gaping hole where his heart had been before his knees had given out. He’d been dead before he hit the floor, and he hadn’t deserved that. Solos should still be here.
Swiping the memory aside, my gaze flew to the glass double doors. They were closed, but the way the panes of glass shook I doubted they would stay intact much longer.
I gasped as another quake hit the house. The floor rolled and rippled under my feet like water, lifting me up. I stumbled to the side, throwing my arms out to steady myself.
Somewhere in the house, doors slammed open and someone shouted one word.
“Earthquake!”
Earthquake!
Relief punched me so hard in the gut that I laughed—laughed loudly and a bit crazily. Just an earthquake.
Duh.
I was in southern California.
Not everything had to be supernatural.
Lowering the dagger, I turned to the spiral staircase. Several half-asleep people stood there, and of course, I was using the term “people” loosely.
There wasn’t a single mortal in the house.
The shaking subsided as Deacon ran his fingers through his messy blond curls. “I hate California,” he grumbled.
Behind him, Luke was scrubbing a hand over his eyes. His bronze-colored hair was sticking up in every direction. Standing beside them was Gable. Poor Gable. We’d literally plucked him off a beach, told him that his father was Poseidon and that he was also a demigod whose powers were bound, and then he witnessed up close and personal what a Titan was capable of.
The fact that he was standing there and not rocking in a corner somewhere was admirable.
“We haven’t had one that bad in a long time,” Gable said with sleep clinging to his voice. “We’ll definitely get an aftershock from that.”
Deacon’s pale gray eyes widened. “Aftershock?”
Gable nodded. “Or that could’ve been a foreshock. You never really know.”
“What is that?” Deacon lowered his hand, frowning. “Like an uncircumcised earthquake?”
Aiden, his older brother, lifted his chin and stared at the ceiling, slowly shaking his dark head. There were no two brothers less alike. Well, maybe Lucifer and Michael. They were brothers.
My lips twitched into a tired smile as Gable explained exactly what a foreshock was. Aiden reached out, draping an arm over the shoulders of Alex Andros. Her hair was a mess, but a sexy mess. When I woke up, my hair looked like I’d stuck my fingers in an electrical outlet, but not Alex. Hers was a tumble of wavy locks.
She was beautiful in a wild, unfettered way, and while we’d tentatively bonded over our shared time with evil psycho gods and our truly weird relation to Apollo, I wasn’t nearly as close to her as Deacon and Luke were.
She and Aiden were legends, actual legends.
And they were so in love with one another that there was no doubt in my mind that they’d spend eternity together wanting no one else.