Page 78 of The Monsters We Are

“No. It means he’s close to surfacing.” Cain’s chest tightened as he recalled the last time he’d seen Abaddon. The man had been deathly pale, so weak his heart barely beat, his face lined with grief and pain even in sleep.

They hadn’t expected him to survive more than a few nights, if that. Still, they’d placed him in the water. Instead of slipping away peacefully while at Rest, he’d gradually healed. More, he’d strengthened—something they’d sensed as the level of power in the grotto slowly but surely intensified over time.

When they’d been sure he was strong enough to wake, Cain and the other Ancients had contemplated it. But they had all agreed that Abaddon wouldn’t thank them for it. At least at Rest he could dream of being with his deceased family members, of having a life that didn’t involve being imprisoned. Awake, he would have to accept so many deaths, process so much grief, and learn to cope with being in a cage where he’d be unable to avenge those he’d lost in—

The lights flicked off, and the bounding whips of power disintegrated.

Cain released Wynter and moved to stand in front of her, earning himself a little huff.

Head first, a man slowly rose out of the spring, water sluicing down his half-naked body. Abaddon looked so much like both his brothers, Satan and Baal. Tall, broad, dark, hard. And, at this moment, thoroughly disoriented.

He blinked, his gaze sharpening. “Cain?” he asked, his voice croaky with lack of use.

Cain nodded. “Yes.”

Abaddon looked around. “Where am I?”

“A temple near my home. You’ve been here for some time now.”

As Abaddon continued to examine his surroundings, Cain took a moment to really study his uncle. The Ancient appeared weak but not frail, and there was no glint of insanity in his gaze, merely confusion. He had the look of someone who’d overslept and was now suffering the adverse effects of it. Which, really, probably wasn’t far from the truth.

Finally spotting Wynter, Abaddon squinted. “Who are you?” he asked, imperious.

Cain felt his brow furrow. He had not expected that question. He shifted aside slightly, giving his uncle a clear view of her, but the Ancient still appeared nonplussed. “You don’t recognize her?”

“Should I?” Abaddon frowned, rubbing at his temple. “Everything is . . . cloudy.”

Cain knew that feeling. He’d experienced it each time he woke from a long Rest. It was as if the brain struggled to make the full transition from “sleep” to “conscious”. Like parts of it needed a few moments to “warm up” in order to properly function.

He watched as his uncle awkwardly stepped out of the well, his movements stiff and uncoordinated. While Ancients didn’t struggle to walk after years of Rest, they weren’t at their most graceful upon waking. “What is the last thing you remember?”

Abaddon’s eyes lost focus. “I . . . It is difficult to get my thoughts in order.”

That was another annoying thing about first rising. Until the brain caught up with reality, it wasn’t always easy to tell what were memories and what were images from the dreams you’d had while Resting.

“I recall the guardians dumping us on barren land after—” He cut himself off, his teeth snapping together as an unholy rage flamed to life in his eyes. The air began to buzz and tauten with a power that hummed with sheer fury.

Cain’s creature tensed, a hiss rattling in its throat at the potential danger to their consort. “If you lose your control here, you will bring this temple down upon us.”

“My children,” Abaddon croaked out, his voice thick with grief. “My brothers.”

“I know.”

The Ancient’s eyelids slammed shut as he breathed deep, his face lined with pain. Long minutes went by as Abaddon took one centering breath after another. Finally, he opened his eyes. The rage was still there, but it was now cold and controlled rather than hot and wild. That he could regulate his emotions so well was a very good thing.

“Revengewillbe yours,” Cain told him, remaining calm. “Will beours.First, you need to get stronger. You’ve been in a coma-like Rest for much longer than you can imagine.” The truth of how much the Ancient had missed would likely come as something of a shock to him.

Abaddon’s face tightened. “Revenge has not already been wreaked?” His voice was jagged with a growl. “The ones who massacred our people and left us to die still live?”

“Some. But perhaps not for much longer. We plan to invade Aeon soon. Very soon.”

The anger in the air began to recede, but Abaddon’s gaze still gleamed with it. “We are not back there, then?”

“No. We were all cursed to be trapped where the guardians dumped us. The story of how we reached this very moment is a long one. I will soon explain it all to you, just as I will explain why the other Ancients and I recently worked so hard to wake you.”

“I vaguely remember hearing voices chant while I Rested. It occurred several times. The words were indecipherable to me. I heard them, recognized the rhythm of them, but they didn’t reach inside me as they should have.” He tilted his head. “It was you who woke me just now? It did not feel like you.”

Cain felt his brows dip. “Feel like me?”