Constantine (Daughter of War #1)

Chapter 45: Challenges

Image: Diomedes. Now isn't he quite the looker?

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I certainly never tried to imagine Diomedes' features.

Really, he looks so frightening that it's almost hilarious. I almost howl aloud in amusement. Perhaps it's a way my mind is automatically trying to distract myself from the direness of the situation.

"Ah, I see that you two have found your way towards me without my assistance," says Diomedes. His voice is gravelly, as though it has just been dragged along a cobblestoned path. "It's a pleasure to see you two again."

"The pleasure is not returned," snarls Gilbert. I tighten my grip on Miraterciel, while squeezing his shoulder hard, trying to send a signal that he should control his tongue.

"Such a pity." Diomedes' tone indicates that he feels anything but pity. He waves a hand. Gilbert and I jerk forward, ready to attack or defend ourselves if necessary. He's only conjuring up shadows to close the door behind us though. In perfect harmony, we glare at him simultaneously, silently accusing him of dangling our minds over the edge of sanity.

"Glaring at me like that isn't going to get you anywhere. But rest assured, I won't attempt to attack when you have Miraterciel unsheathed." I can tell that he's being truthful, from the way he eyes the short obsidian blade I'm holding up. "Enough beating about the bush though: What is your answer?"

I steel myself, looking at the necromancer squarely in the eye before replying, "No."

The silence that follows is so thick that I can almost taste it in the air.

Then Diomedes throws his head back and laughs.

It isn't one of joy, nor is it a laughter that is born out of hysteria. It's a full-on, menacing cackle. One that rings of pure evil, ready to swallow the world whole in darkness. I feel Gilbert shudder through my hand, which is still resting upon his shoulder.

I feel strangely cool at Diomedes' reaction.

"Would you care to share the jest with us? Because I didn't get it," I remark icily.

His lips spread into a slow grin. "It's just that I've been expecting that exact answer from the two of you. Yet it's still pathetically hilarious how foolish you Perinians are."

"Aren't you a Perinian too?" Gilbert retorts angrily.

"Correction: was a Perinian. I denounced my heritage ever since they denounced me."

What in the name of Pst. Manofrey does that mean? I shake my head. No, he's just trying to throw us off the real topic here. "That's not the point, Diomedes," I step in. "Our answer is 'no'. We have consulted the king and the war generals of Perinus—we are not afraid of your hoaxes. Mark my words, we will be ready when your ghost army comes.

"Ready?" Diomedes releases another high-pitched laughter. "No one can ever be ready in the face of my ghost army! I know of your new ways in training the soldiers. Clever of you, Constantine, to observe that weakness during your very first fight with a ghost. However, admit it: all that training will be for naught once they face a true wraith. Fear will overrule their minds then. All the special techniques that you two Champions have worked so hard to pass on will be forgotten in the heat of battle."

"How can you be so sure?" I try to make my voice sound bold, challenging even. Only, deep within my bones, I know that what Diomedes has said is only too true.

"Because it's the truth." I struggle to maintain a cool, casual mask. "Oh, I've hit a nerve there, haven't I?"

"Enough with this nonsense!" growls Gilbert. "The real question is, what are you going to do?"