Page 40 of The Monsters We Are
Cain touched his own fingertips to those of Griff’s and, that fast, Cain’s entire surroundings altered as he projected his consciousness to the psychic space that the conduit provided. Everything was white—the walls, the floor, the eight wooden chairs. One of said chairs was occupied by Adam.
Cain’s monster hissed, slamming its unblinking glare on the Aeon it loathed with every inch of its being. It had wanted to shred Adam to pieces for as far back as Cain could remember. Only the fact that Adam had been extremely well-guarded at Aeon had kept the shithead alive all the years Cain resided there.
Cain would have been outnumbered, subdued, and then contained if he had acted on his hatred for this man back then. Subjecting him to pain hadn’t been worth Cain’s freedom, so he’d made no move, promising himself and his creature that they would one day get their vengeance. His cage alone had prevented that.
The creature hadn’t complained when Cain dealt Abel the killing blow, because it was satisfied that Cain would allow the monster the pleasure of obliterating Adam. If there was a way of causing physical harm to anyone in the psychic space, the creature would have killed him already.
Given the recent loss of Abel, Adam’s insides would no doubt be churning with fury. No one would think it to look at him, though. Instead of firing a look of such hatred at Cain that it would snatch a weaker man’s breath from his lungs, Adam did nothing. Said nothing. Merely sat very still, looking perfectly at ease.
After Saul lost his sister in the first recent battle, he’d looked a mess, overcome by grief. But Adam? His dark-green eyes were clear and calm. His stubborn jawline was loose and relaxed. His thick, copper-brown hair was neatly combed.
One thing could be seen in Adam’s eyes. There was an element of smugness there—he believed that all was going according to plan. There was no grief or devastation to be seen.
Then again, Adam wouldn’t be experiencing the gut-wrenching grief that a loving, devoted father would generally feel after losing his son. Abel had mattered to him, but Adam had treated him as more of a protégé and part of his legacy than a son. If he had loved Abel, it hadn’t been with a full heart.
Still, Abel’s death will have affected Adam on several levels. That he was so affected would be something he’d hate, something he’d consider a weakness. He would also despise that Cain—a person who was a living reminder of his ex-consort’s betrayal, a person he had wanted dead since the moment of his birth—had been the one to end Abel’s life.
The other Ancients were quick to enter the psychic space, and soon the seven vacant seats were occupied. Cain sat in the center with Seth and Azazel either side of him. None of the Ancients spoke. They simply stared at the Aeon, all looking varying degrees of bored.
“Tell me,” began Adam, sweeping his gaze over each of them, “how does it feel to have a divide among your people?”
“A divide?” echoed Lilith, an edge to her voice that said she hadn’t forgotten how he’d once treated her. Despite that the Aeon had no liking for her kind, he had pursued her relentlessly while also seeming to resent her for her effect on him. Viewing women as the weaker species, he’d genuinely felt that she had no right to object to his advances. He’d acted like a spiteful piece of shit right up until her brother stepped in.
Adam flicked a hand. “Oh, let us not play games. I know the type of beings you welcome to your town. Dark characters. All of them. So dark they would gladly act on generous bounties, even if it meant going against their neighbors and leaders. Such people are far too easily manipulated. Just how many times has the witch almost been brought to me?”
Cain fought a smile as he realized just how much the Aeon had overestimated what success his sneaky move would have. That was Adam all over, though. The man was so arrogant and superior that it often didn’t occur to him that a plan might not pay off.
“What is it that you want?” Seth asked.
Adam notched up his chin. “I think you all now realize just how serious I am about striking at your town until I get what I want.”
“Even if I had a sliver of an interest in cooperating—which I don’t—I couldn’t possibly give myself up to you and make my way to Aeon,” said Cain. “You know that perfectly well.”
“Yes, I do,” said Adam. “But your people do not, do they? And so they will turn on you.” He paused, his eyes scanning each Ancient but purposefully skipping over Cain. “It is the witch I want. Perhaps Cain has reported all that was said in our previous meetings. Perhaps not. It would not surprise me to learn that he held certain details back.”
Inanna sighed. “If you are only here to make some sad attempt at causing trouble among us, we might as well end this meeting now. None of the Ancients will ever view one of their own as the enemy. Like it or not, you firmly united us when you dumped us here.”
Ishtar nodded. “We will never see you as an ally or trust a word you say. So simply be clear about what it is you want. I do not like to have my time wasted.”
Adam’s jaw hardened. “I have already been clear on what I want. The witch. Wynter Dellavale. Give her to me.”
Cain was expecting Adam’s request. Even so, his gut went tight and his enraged inner creature coiled its muscles in preparation to lunge, however pointless it would be.
Azazel snorted. “Why would we do that?”
“I will continue to wreak havoc on Devil’s Cradle if you do not,” threatened Adam.
“You will haveyour peoplewreak havoc on your behalf, and you will continue to do it either way,” said Dantalion with an unconcerned shrug.
“Let’s be honest, Adam.” Lilith crossed one leg over the other. “You are attacking our town and attempting to scare our population because you hope to weaken us. You want the people to run scared or betray us. You want the place to crumble—a fruitless exercise, I might add, since the land is as protected by power as that of Aeon. In short, you are not prepared to take us on right now because you quite simply don’t believe that you can. Did you think we would not see that?” she scoffed, shaking her head.
A flush stained Adam’s cheeks. “Why are you so certain I want a war? As I have told Cain in the past, there does not need to be one.”
“Don’t bother claiming you would leave us in peace if we cooperated,” said Cain. “You will seek revenge for Abel’s death—we’re all well aware of that.”
Adam’s eyes briefly glittered with something dark. “Revenge is most certainly what I want. But my beef is not with the Ancients as a whole. It is withyou.”
“Again, we’re all well aware of that,” said Cain.