The question was carefully phrased, the word “torment” one of Ezekiel’s hot buttons when in reference to Skye.
It provoked the male into action, his lithe form moving with lightning speed as he attempted to send a fist into Sethios’s jaw. The two of them rarely sparred, but when they did, it was an even match. At least when they were both at full health.
Today, Ezekiel was not at full health.
Sethios dodged him by stepping to the side, causing his best friend to lose his balance. It sent Ezekiel right into the wall, but the bastard traced to behind Sethios and tried again.
They danced in a circle, Sethios ducking while Ezekiel swung.
“I can do this all night,” Sethios taunted. He had a lot of fury to burn off, as did Ezekiel. Osiris had taken Skye from him a century ago and had been abusing the pair ever since.
She’d predicted Ezekiel would be her downfall, had tried to escape him on numerous occasions, but he’d been infatuated with the dark-haired beauty, chasing her all over the earth.
He tracked her with ease, his assassin roots assisting in his pursuit. However, a day after her capture, Osiris had arrived and demanded Ezekiel hand her over.
Which was why Sethios’s best friend had opted to work with Osiris.
Not because he approved of the old man’s inane plans, but because he held Ezekiel’s heart—Skye.
Saving her had been a clear course, except it was driving the poor woman mad inside. Ezekiel bore the brunt of the guilt, his infatuation with her the reason she’d been imprisoned in the first place.
That all led to Ezekiel’s current state and the pent-up rage riding his spirit.
Sethios allowed a fist to graze his cheekbone, hoping it would be enough to pacify the ancient assassin.
It did.
The darkness overriding Ezekiel’s wary features receded, the gold flecks in his black gaze blazing with knowledge. A curse passed through his lips, followed by a shake of his head, sending his unwashed dark hair sprawling across his lean shoulders.
If hell had a “look,” it was Ezekiel.
“Go shower,” Sethios said again. “We’re going to analyze Osiris’s compulsion and see what can be done.”
“Nothing can be done.” Ezekiel’s haggard tone revealed a part of him others rarely glimpsed—the part of him that cared for someone other than himself.
“We’re going to try anyway.” Sethios owed it to his best friend after everything he’d sacrificed for him and Astasiya and Caro. “Let us try.”
Ezekiel appeared ready to tell them all to fuck off, and if he did, Sethios would listen. But he suspected his old friend needed this break. And if Ezekiel was going to trust anyone to guard Skye, it was Sethios.
“Your daughter already tried.”
“Then let me try,” Sethios rephrased.
“You’ve tried before, too,” Ezekiel muttered.
Yeah, and it hadn’t gone well. “Do you have a better idea?” Sethios countered, knowing full well his best friend had no alternatives other than to allow her to remain in this magically induced coma.
The assassin’s jaw ticked, then he took a step back. “Fine.” He started toward the door.
“Steal some clothes from Gabriel,” Sethios called after him. He’d already raided the Seraphim’s closet himself, which was where his current outfit of jeans and a T-shirt had come from.
Ezekiel didn’t reply, disappearing from the room with a trace.
Issac lifted a dark brow. It was the only reaction he provided before shifting his sapphire gaze to Skye. He grimaced at whatever vision he found lurking inside her mind.
His ability to control mental imagery proved useful in this instance, as he could not only force the prophetess into a dream state but was also able to warp her nightmares into something less violent.
However, the strain of having kept her in that state for over seven days showed on his features. It required him to remain awake and alert at all times, something he could do as an immortal, but even one as powerful as Issac required some rest eventually.
Sethios also suspected the male was using a great deal of energy to monitor Astasiya’s mind, which was how he’d managed to pull her out of her latest dream of Caro.
Astasiya cleared her throat, her brow furrowing. “So I’ve tried compelling her on my own, just with verbal commands for her to dream a certain way. But each one always returns to a suicide attempt.”
Issac nodded. “Yes, the persuasion is harsh and wrapped around her mind in every feasible way.”
Not her mind, but her spirit. However, Astasiya spoke before Sethios could clarify.
“I can see it. Well, not see it physically, but I can sense it. Like a dark strand of barbwire wrapping around her psyche. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“I understand what you’re feeling,” Sethios murmured, his own senses picking up on the compulsion woven around Skye’s spirit. “We need to pull it apart. I just don’t know how.” If he did, he would have applied that knowledge years ago. “How did you break Osiris’s control over me?”
If she thought it weird that he referred to his father by name, she didn’t react. Probably because she called him Osiris, too. Not “Grandfather.”
“I… I don’t know. I was out of it. You didn’t recognize me, which hurt, and then I started thinking about you and Mom. My memories. How you made me run that day.” She swallowed, then cleared her throat. “And then I thought about where Mom is now. That’s when your compulsion seemed to fracture.”
Sethios considered that for a moment, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. He’d been enraged by the cement encasing him, suffocating him, killing him over and over, and then he’d been freed. It’d taken too long for him to understand why because his mind had refused to recognize the female standing before him.
When it’d finally registered, he’d thought it was his Caro, only the eyes were all wrong. They were his eyes.
He sighed.
That method wasn’t going to work on Skye. Neither Sethios nor Astasiya had that kind of history with the prophetess, making it impossible to unweave this compulsion through a familial bond—which was what he suspected Astasiya had done. She’d used his paternal tie to her to infiltrate his soul, thereby snapping Osiris’s hold.
Skye needed something else. She required them to unravel the mental strings, not cut through them.
He twisted his mouth to the side as he considered the energy signature surrounding her. It was one he understood far too well. But he had no idea how to sever it. If he had, he would have used that knowledge long ago to destroy every single one of his father’s mental mindfucks.
“Compelling her isn’t going to work,” he said slowly. “It’ll only worsen her state.” Sethios had tried it once at Ezekiel’s request. “Osiris built in safeguards long ago to prevent me from tampering with the compulsion. I imagine they’re still in place.”
“That would explain why her mind reacted so brutally to Astasiya’s attempts,” Issac replied. “It seemed to be a defense mechanism.”
Sethios dipped his chin, recalling a similar reaction from decades ago. “We’re going to need to—”
He cut off on a curse, a mental spike ramming through his mind as Caro’s voice roared to life inside his head. Where are you?! she shrieked at him. Find me! Find me now! No! Don’t! It’s not—