Page 30 of The Demigod

Still, I didn’t want to see him suffer; I didn’t like the idea of him screaming in pain while the gods got their kicks by torturing him, body and soul.

But it had to be done.

Until we found Nemesis.

I brought the shadows around us, feeling a strange coldness raking its fingers down my skin, sinking in beneath, chilling me to my core.

It wasn’t long before the exhaustion started to sink in. By the time we got to the bottom step in the cellar, each step forward felt like fighting against gravity, like the world itself was pressing down on me.

“You okay there, sweetness?” Daemon asked, watching me as I reached for one of the chains, the muscles in my arms shaking under its weight, despite them not weighing more than ten pounds.

“Yep,” I lied, keeping my head ducked as I slid the shackle around one wrist. Then the other. And, finally, his feet.

“Get some rest, shadow girl,” Daemon murmured, the concern in his voice making my belly swoop.

That was the plan.

As I walked, though, I knew there was no getting back to the motel. My legs were lead. My muscles were trembling with the effort just to stay upright.

I just had to get to the car.

I could turn it over and sleep inside.

“No,” I whimpered, my legs buckling still deep in the woods, taking me down on my knees in the underbrush.

My entire body was trembling, a chill so deep in my marrow that there seemed no hope of warmth again.

On a whimper, I curled up on my side, pulling my jacket more tightly around my body, then pulling my arms inside the body of it instead of the sleeves, trying to seal in as much heat as possible.

Before I could even wonder about the potential of dying of exposure, I was asleep.

Except, I didn’t feel like it was right to call it simply ‘sleep.’

I was unconscious. Maybe just shy of comatose. My body needing something deeper than rest to recover.

It was a scream that pulled me out of those inky depths, but the claws of unconsciousness clung to me even as I fought toward consciousness, suddenly aware of my exposure, my vulnerability.

I blinked at the near darkness, confused at whether it was just moments or many hours since I’d first fallen down on the forest floor, too exhausted even to crawl to my car.

One look at the sky told me that I’d been asleep for something like ten or twelve hours.

Yet as I sat up, there was still an alarming heaviness in my limbs, a soreness in all my muscles.

What was wrong with me?

Why wasn’t sleep reviving me?

Even if I was using my shadow more frequently, it made no sense that sleep wasn’t making me feel rested.

I sat there for a long moment, wallowing in my misery, dangerously close to tears, when another scream tore through the woods, ripping into my chest, slicing my heart.

Because I knew who was making that sound.

And what anguish he must have been enduring to make a sound like that.

On a whimper of my own, I forced myself to my feet, dragging myself through the woods, not even bothering with my shadow cloak, not wanting to drain myself anymore, which would make me useless to Daemon.

By the time I made it back to the clearing near the estate, I could see the shadows of the gods making their way out of the cellar, their heads thrown back in laughter, their fingers, faces, and clothing saturated with blood.

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