Page 25 of Terror at the Gates

He shook his head.

That was a little disappointing.

After a breath of silence.

“Are you trying to figure out how he died?”

“We know how he died,” said Cassius. “Look at him. He drowned.”

Tori shook his head hard and fast. “He was dead before that. He was dead the moment his eyes bled.”

I frowned, watching Tori, but he was staring at the dead man.

“It’s a warning,” he said, his voice hushed.

“Here we go,” said Cassius with a hint of annoyance.

I ignored him. “A warning from who, Tori?”

When he looked at me again, the kid was gone. A different person stared back at me, a man who was seeing something beyond this world.

“The gods,” he said, his voice firm and unwavering. “Can’t you hear them? They are knocking at the gates.”

Chapter Four

We avoided the topics of my mother and Zahariev for the rest of lunch. When we were finished, my father walked me outside. This was the part I dreaded, not because I had to say goodbye but because I always wondered if this was the day Lucius Leviathan got sick of my shit, tossed me in his car, and took me home.

I wasn’t sure why he hadn’t yet. I thought he still hoped I would return on my own so he didn’t have to be the bad guy.

The thing about my dad was that he knew me pretty well. If he forced me to go home, I’d never forgive him. That word wasn’t part of my vocabulary any more than it was part of his. Still, I knew there was an expiration date on my time in Nineveh, even if I didn’t want to admit it.

“Lilith,” my father said, his steps slowing as we neared the SUV. I didn’t like the way he said my name. There was an edge to it, like he was trying hard not to sound commanding.

This is it, I thought.My time is up.

I thought through my options, though I didn’t have many in the face of my hulking father and his men, two of whomlingered nearby, alert and on guard. I felt the hair lift on the back of my neck and on my arms as I tensed. I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“I want to ask a favor.”

I blinked, surprised. My father rarely asked for favors. He didn’t want to feel like he owed anyone anything.

“What is it?” I asked. I didn’t bother hiding the suspicion in my voice.

“Your mother is hosting her annual gala…”

“Dad—” I started to say, knowing where this was going. He wanted me to attend. He wanted to present some semblance of a united family, not only for the church but also for the the commission.

“Lilith.Please.”

My father never said please, and I could tell it had taken him a lot of practice, because part of his plea sounded like an order.

“Attend for me.”

I stared at him, refusing to hide my irritation.

“Does Mom know you are asking?”

“I’m not asking for her permission,” he said. “I want you there.”

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