Sethios’s jaw ached from clenching his teeth, annoyed with that pesky line of reasoning. Yet it continued to haunt him, the very realization that he’d let his entire family down for eighteen fucking years.
Astasiya must have read the change in him, because she took a step back, her throat working over a swallow. “I… I wanted to talk to you about Mom. I had another dream.”
His focus sharpened. “In the water?”
She nodded, then frowned. “Sort of.”
That didn’t sound good. “Sort of?”
“It was strange. We were in the water, but she could breathe.”
“Did she say anything?”
Astasiya shook her head. “No. She was too terrified to speak.” His daughter paused, her brow furrowing. “It was just really weird because we didn’t drown. Yet everything was dark and heavy, like we were in the water, but the atmosphere didn’t feel right. I don’t know; maybe it was just a standard nightmare.” Her lips twisted to the side. “Except, it felt like Mom.”
Sethios considered the description, his own mind seeking out Caro for an explanation and coming back with nothing once more.
It frustrated him to no end.
Yes, all right. He’d fucked up. His father had broken him via a method he never could have anticipated.
The issue was he should have expected it.
Osiris was creative and always one step ahead. Sethios knew better than to think he could possibly best him.
And yet… he had bested his father in a way. By keeping Astasiya a secret.
Maybe having his mind completely wiped had actually been a gift, granting Sethios a way to guard everyone he held dear.
He’d have to ponder that train of thought later. There would inevitably be a hole he could crawl into, one that allowed him to return to his state of self-loathing. But, for now, he allowed that benefit to empower him into action. Because wallowing wasn’t doing a damn thing for him.
“Did Issac see your nightmare?” Sethios asked.
“Yes.” Astasiya grimaced. “He woke me up when it turned too dark.”
“Too dark?”
“Consuming,” she whispered. “I couldn’t seem to swim out of the hole.”
He frowned. The imagery unnerved him. However, he wanted to see it for himself. “Where’s Issac now?”
“At the house. He would have come with me, but I wanted to mist.”
And he currently couldn’t travel via mist with her, or his control over Skye’s mind would lapse, sending her into a fit of insanity. Osiris had broken her mind entirely, compelling her to kill herself should someone take her away from him without approval. Which was exactly what Ezekiel and the others had done during Sethios’s rescue—they’d kidnapped Osiris’s prized asset—his pet seer.
“When was the last time Issac slept?” Sethios wondered out loud.
“He hasn’t,” she replied. “Not since Skye arrived.”
Because if he slept, the seer would awaken and try to take her own life. “We need to find a better solution to that problem.”
“I know. I’ve been trying to find a way to warp Osiris’s compulsion or break it, but nothing I’ve done works. He’s just too strong.”
“You’ll get there,” Sethios said, fully confident in his daughter’s abilities. “He just has a few years of experience on you, is all.”
“A few years?” She snorted. “Try ten thousand years.”
“More, actually,” Sethios murmured. “But you have something he’s never mastered, little angel.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“Heart,” Sethios replied, smiling. “You care. That’s a powerful weapon, one he will never understand.” He reached out to squeeze her shoulder, giving her his best indulgent look. “Let’s go talk to your boyfriend.” Sethios really hated that fucking word, especially when in reference to his daughter’s life. “I want to see this dream. Then perhaps you and I can give Skye’s compulsion a go together.”
The dream was as dark as Astasiya had described, the webs around her thick and complicated. He searched the visual Issac provided, finding nothing that gave away Caro’s position.
But he sensed her fear.
What’s changed? he asked her. Why are you suddenly terrified, sweet angel?
Again, nothing.
How strange. He used to adore silence. He’d even compelled her to be quiet the first time they’d met. Now he would give anything to make her speak. Even a scream would do.
He sighed, shaking his head. “I can’t hear her.” If he said those four words out loud one more time, he might lose his ever-loving shit.
How the fuck was he supposed to find her when he couldn’t even sense her?
Oh, he felt the cord tied to his heart, the frayed edges stabbing his insides like angry little thorns.
But apart from that pesky sensation, he felt nothing. And he hated feeling nothing.
“I can try to sleep again,” his daughter offered softly. “Maybe the dream will be clearer?”
“Or it could consume you again,” Issac said, sounding far too tired. Sethios could see the concern in his gaze, not for himself but for the female he clearly loved.
How will Caro feel about their relationship? Sethios wondered idly. It would shock her, just as it had him. However, he suspected she would approve, if nothing more than because of the way Issac looked at their daughter.
Sethios shook his head. Enough of that. “Let’s see what we can do about Skye,” he said, needing a distraction.
He also wasn’t keen on the idea of returning his daughter to the black hole of her dream state. There hadn’t been anything useful in that reverie, making it more dangerous to her psyche than useful to their search. And Caro would never approve of putting Astasiya at risk for her own benefit.
“Okay,” his daughter agreed, her relief palpable.
Issac flashed Sethios a grateful look, then followed Astasiya as she walked toward the stairs.
Poor Gabriel had each of his guest rooms occupied. Most were sharing space with a few sleeping on couches. But Skye had been provided her own bed.
Ezekiel stood as they entered, his hair tangled and unkempt, his clothes at least four days old. “You need to take a fucking shower,” Sethios told him. “Right now.”
His oldest friend snorted. “I’m fine.”
“Oh, it’s not for your benefit but for mine. You look like shit.”
“Says the man who resembled a Neanderthal last week.”
Sethios rolled his eyes. One of Osiris’s favorite torments was to compel hair growth. It hurt like hell. So did the razor he used to remove it. Just to begin the agony again. That had been Sethios’s punishment for removing the stitches from his mouth a few weeks, or months, or maybe years, prior.
Time was a funny thing. While Sethios could remember almost every detail of his time in captivity, he had no concept of when things occurred, thanks to his bruised mental state.
Regardless, he needed his friend to take a damn shower.
“Skye’s nose will thank you,” he said, arching a brow. “Unless you’re trying to torment her by forcing her to remain in close quarters with you in this state?”