“Wake up, Penelope!”
“I’m here.” She toppled forward into his arms and breathed in his cinnamon-and-firecracker scent, his warm body grounding her. “I’m here. I’m not hurt,” she repeated to assure herself more than him.
“What did you see?”
“Poseidon on a beach. He—he did something. Oh God, Alexis. It’s gone. He showed me magic, and I can’t remember it!”
“Shhh, cara. I’ll have a look.” Alexis moved back so that he could touch her forehead. The familiar warmth of his magic moved over her skin. “He’s done…something. I can feel his magic locked in your mind.”
“Like a tumor?”
“More like a pocket of power. I’m not sure how he’s done it.”
“It’s the spell,” Penelope said. “I can’t remember what he did, but I know how his magic felt when he worked it; it was like my bones were going to melt. What’s the point of putting it there if I can’t remember the damn thing? He put a magical bomb in my head!”
“He wouldn’t have done it if it was going to hurt you.”
“We don’t know that. One life to stop Thevetat from getting into a body and having the power to release more demons? Poseidon might just see me as a suicide bomber.”
Alexis shook his head. “I refuse to believe that. I’ve seen magicians use such spells before, and what’s in your head isn’t malicious in the slightest. It doesn’t have the structure to kill.”
“How can you be sure?”
Alexis’s expression shifted and she could see all the pain, years, wars, and death in his eyes. “Because I’ve had to use that kind of magic before, and no, I will not tell you about it,” he replied. “Those kinds of stories aren’t worth repeating, and it’s something magic should never be used for.”
Penelope rested her forehead against his, her heart pulsing with so much love for him and fear for their future. She didn’t know how she would contain it. “I trust you, Alexis, even if I don’t trust Poseidon.”
THE FOLLOWING WEEK passed in a blur of magic, sleeping, and eating. Alexis worked in a haze, focused solely on the magical code that Nereus had left for him. Penelope was caught up in training with Constantine, Marco, and the other magicians, who each had strong opinions on what techniques she should be learning. Alexis stayed out of it, his mind too occupied. Plus, Penelope had no problem dealing with them on her own.
He checked the pocket of magic in her mind every night and morning. It hadn’t grown, and it wasn’t hurting her, so he was beginning to agree with Penelope’s assumption that it was a spell. Whether it helped or hindered when it went off was yet to be seen. He refused to entertain the idea that it might kill her when it did.
“Alexis? Hello?” Phaidros stood in front of him and snapped his fingers.
“Sorry, what were you saying?”
“I came to make sure you weren’t going crazy up here.” He leaned over the papers. “Ah, Nereus. Still a pain-in-the-ass teacher.”
“I’m not crazy. Please don’t touch anything.”
Phaidros frowned, leaning closer to study the original diagrams and pages of Alexis’s decoding. He ate some of the grapes from Alexis’s untouched breakfast. “This spell is energy-driven.”
“What?”
“These are all energy workings, and this formula is backward.” Phaidros moved the order of pages. “This is not only necromancy, but necromancy through energy exchange. Think Frankenstein’s monster needing the lightning bolt. With this”—he lifted a sheet of paper at random—“they are going to use the magic of the high tide as the lightning bolt. I’d say the hotels Duilio was building as magic traps would’ve been used to give life to the bodies for the other demons Thevetat wants to summon.”
Alexis laughed, surprised and utterly dumbfounded. He grabbed Phaidros into a fierce hug. “You are brilliant.”
Phaidros struggled until Alexis released him. “I’ve told you this for years.”
“If you weren’t so ugly, I’d kiss you. Show me what you’re talking about. Work with me, so we can understand this.”
“You know, this could’ve been solved days ago if you’d gotten out of your own head long enough to ask for help.”
“I know, I know. You’re here now, and here you’ll stay until we can work this out.”
Phaidros groaned. “I should’ve stayed in bed.”
Alexis dragged up his chair. “Too late now.”
“Firstly, let’s get these pieces in the right order. Seriously, Alexis, have you been drunk all week?” Phaidros reorganized the pages, and Alexis smiled, even though it was at his own expense. It seemed so obvious now that Phaidros had pointed it out. With any luck, he’d also be able to decipher the way to corrupt the spell, and then they’d be one step closer to ending Abaddon and Thevetat forever.
Two hours later, Phaidros and Alexis had pieced the spell together and theorized how they could interrupt the ritual.
“Penelope won’t like this,” Phaidros pointed out.
“I know. That’s why we can’t tell her.”
“Alexis, you have no idea what will happen if they pull your magic into this ritual.”
“We need bait, and this time it’ll be me. If the ritual siphons my magic, we can make sure that it siphons the disruptor spell at the same time. You know they won’t give me the chance to cast anything. Making them think they have me down will make them drop their guard. They won’t stop to analyze what magic they are taking from me; they will want all of it to fuel Thevetat’s resurrection.” Alexis dropped his hands in his lap. “It’s the best idea we have.”
“And what about the ring?”
“We can’t know for sure that it will work, and who knows what the spell Poseidon put into Penelope’s head actually does? If they work, that’s great, but I’m not going to rely on either of them as a guarantee. Too much is at stake. I know this isn’t a good idea, but it’s the best of all our options.” Alexis didn’t want to be caught up in any magic of Thevetat’s, but he didn’t know how else to stop the ritual. Nereus had been a part of the ritual when they’d originally attempted it, and he’d have to be as well. As much as he didn’t like keeping things from Penelope, she didn’t need another thing to worry about, and she would definitely have opinions about Alexis using himself as bait.
Phaidros threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, this is what you’ll need to do.”
PENELOPE HAD lost track of how many times she’d ended up flat on her back. After a week of training, she’d moved past the muscle aches and was now speckled with bruises from the wooden daggers she’d been training with. Zo was making it up to her by cooking her favorite food, and Elazar had been coaxed to tell stories every night.
“You’re still hesitating before you strike,” Lyca said from the other side of the mat.
“I don’t mean to.” Penelope groaned as she dragged herself back to her feet.
“You’re learning fast—much faster than Marco did. You need to want to attack. I notice you don’t hesitate when you’re sparring against Constantine.”
“That’s because he’s a jerk.” She was only half-joking. She liked him immensely, but he knew precisely which buttons to press to set her off.
“A jerk who’s going to be very helpful. Constantine has always been irritating because he’s insightful. Dinner should be ready soon. Let’s call it a day.” Lyca slid her training weapons onto the rack.
“I wonder if Alexis made better progress than me today.”
“Phaidros has been locked up with him for a few hours. He’ll drag him down to dinner and force him to be social, I’m sure.” Lyca gave Penelope an encouraging pat on her shoulder. “You really are getting better. Don’t worry. I know that you won’t hesitate to protect Alexis should a priest get in the way.”
“Thank you,” Penelope said, strangely touched that Lyca had bothered to compliment her at all.
Upstairs in her rooms, Penelope pulled off her sweaty workout clothes and headed for the shower. She was findi
ng herself torn between the citadel rooms and her own, and she was reluctant to leave the tower. Maybe the palazzo will move them if I ask. She would make it a priority when they returned from Milos.
Every day for the past week, she’d written down something she wanted to do in the future. It was a small gesture, but it was a way of keeping her anxiety locked safely in its box. She didn’t want to consider for a moment that they could all die within the next month. There were still so many things she wanted to do with her life, and for every one of those things, she could see Alexis beside her.
Penelope stepped out of the bathroom and was about to drop her towel when a voice cleared behind her.
She squealed. “Fuck, Aelia!”
The magician was lounging on a chaise, dressed in black silk harem pants and a black-and-gold crop top, looking like she’d wandered out of an Arabian Nights harem. “Go ahead. I’ve seen you naked before.”
“What are you doing in here?”
“I’ve come to have a girl chat.”
Penelope grabbed clothes from her wardrobe and went back to the bathroom to change, Aelia’s amused laughter following her. By the time Penelope was dressed, Aelia had produced a bottle of limoncello from somewhere and was sipping it from a delicate china glass the size of Penelope’s thumb.
She passed her one. “Drink this and let your feathers unruffle.”
Penelope sat down in her armchair with a sigh. “Okay, Aelia, what do you want?”
“Why do I need to want anything other than your company?”
Penelope sipped her tangy liquor and waited.
Aelia let out a huff. “Oh, very well. I wanted to thank you.”
“For what?”
“For…everything. You coming to us was a good thing despite Thevetat rearing his head at the same time. Your presence shifted things, changed all of us, for the better,” Aelia said, as sincere as Penelope had ever seen her.
“The tide is getting higher every day. We might be running out of time to say the things we know we should. You brought us together again. You are the glue we needed. You’re one of us.” She reached out to take Penelope’s hand. “I don’t want you to think for a single moment that you don’t belong here with us.”
“Thank you, Aelia. I appreciate that.” Penelope swallowed the unexpected lump in her throat, not knowing what else to say. “You all drive me crazy, but I love you. Even Con, when he’s not acting like a dick.”
Aelia’s laughter filled the room with magic. “I knew he’d win you over.”
“If I’d known sex with Phaidros would bring out your sweet side, I would’ve convinced you to do it months ago,” Penelope said, with a grin.
“If I’d known how good it would be, I would’ve done it centuries ago.” Her smile turned sly.
“Stop. I know what you’re thinking, and no, I absolutely don’t want details.”
Aelia gave them anyway, and by the time Alexis and Phaidros came down, Penelope was bright red and Aelia was in a fit of giggles.
“What are you two talking about?” Phaidros asked with narrow eyes.
Penelope was unable to look at him when she said, “Nothing,” just as Aelia said, “Sex.”
“Is that so? I’m starting to think I was hanging out in the wrong part of the tower.” He gave Aelia a look that made her ears pink.
Alexis tapped his journal on Phaidros’s head. “Enough of that. We didn’t spend all day solving magical riddles so you could get distracted now.”
This earned a scowl from Phaidros. “Really, Penelope, I don’t know how you put up with him.”
“You solved Nereus’s spell?” Penelope reached for Alexis. “Show me!”
“That’s how she puts up with him. They both have a one-track mind,” Aelia pointed out.
Downstairs, with everyone sprawled out on couches, Alexis and Phaidros explained the magic of Nereus’s spell. The magicians and Elazar all nodded and asked questions, while Penelope struggled to follow the complexities and Constantine looked bored. After ten minutes, she gave up trying to understand and simply trusted that the important thing was that it made sense to Alexis. Penelope sent a text to Marco, letting him know that the plan was progressing.
Constantine refilled his wineglass. “You get used to being confused when they talk magic.
Give me something tangible I can attack any day over this mumbo jumbo.”
“Spoken like a true Roman.”
All talk suddenly ceased, and a shudder of power ran through the magicians. Penelope’s mouth tasted of sea salt and Atlantean flowers. In her pocket, the astrolabe vibrated, and she struggled to pull it out. It pulsed with blue light. She opened it, and the tolling of bells echoed from it.
“What is that?” Penelope asked over the din.
The magicians looked at each other.
“The citadel bells,” said Galenos. “It’s high tide.”
PENELOPE SAT on Alexis’s balcony, watching the boats in the canal below. He was asleep after a tense night, but Penelope’s own restlessness had dragged her from his arms. The astrolabe was quiet now, its metal warm in her hands. The alarm had finally died away, leaving the whole palazzo strained. The high tide meant Thevetat would be getting ready to perform the ritual. Time was up. She needed to talk to Kreios.
Penelope slipped the silver ring that kept her bound to her body from her finger and shut her eyes. The sounds of the night closed in around her, and she fell into them, letting the meditation settle over her. She focused on Kreios: the way he stood, his dark eyes and wry smile, the feel of his presence. Her heart raced as she felt a dragging sensation, and then she heard ocean waves lapping against stone. It was dark in the cave, the only light coming from a guttering torch. The clinking of chains made her turn, and in the gloom was the broken form of a man. Shackles were secured on his wrists and bolted to stone; the sand he sat on was still damp from the tide.
“You shouldn’t be here, Doctor Bryne.”
“Kreios?” Penelope went to him, kneeling down to brush the hair back from his bloodied face. He was covered in lacerations. “What happened to you?”
“Punishment…for helping Aelia,” he said from between busted lips. His black eyes glittered with rage and pain. “Don’t look so worried about your enemy. I’ve had worse.”
Penelope was going to be sick. “We’ll stop them. We’ll save you.”
“I don’t need saving, Penelope. Thevetat won’t let me die. He only wants me to suffer before he takes over my body and heals me. Abaddon needs my help with the ritual. Otherwise, my punishment would’ve been a lot worse than this.” He shifted, the chains clanking against stone. “I hope you have a plan.”
“We do, but you understand why I can’t tell you.”
“Very clever of you.”
“It’s high tide,” she said, not knowing what else to say. She’d always have nightmares about being locked in the tombs of San Zaccaria but looking at him reduced to nothing but meat and pain, she couldn’t stop the tears running down her cheeks.
“You have two days, until the night of the full moon. That’s when it will all begin. I suggest you don’t waste that time.” Kreios looked up at her, and the rage in his black eyes softened. “Go, Penelope. Don’t let them find you here, even in your astral form. Save your tears for someone who actually deserves them. Don’t pity this monster.”
Penelope touched his cheek—the one place on his body left whole—then let her body call her back to Venice. She leaned over the railing of the balcony and vomited.
Alexis’s hands came to her shoulders. “What did you see?”
“Kreios. We’ve got two days to get to Milos.”
THEY LEFT VENICE the following morning on a charter flight heading to Paros. It was the first time in a thousand years that the palazzo in Venice had been emptied of Atlanteans. Only Elazar remained to watch over its halls. Lyca had tried to convince Galenos to stay behind too, but he’d blatantly refused. Penelope didn’t blame him. Who would want to be the last magicia
n standing—or the one left behind with nothing to do but wait?
“I’m an old man, Penelope. I’d only get in the way,” Elazar had said when she’d voiced that opinion. He’d cast a fond glance in Zo’s direction. “Besides, Abba would worry too much about me, and you’re going to need him by your side and at his best. Protect yourself, dear Archivist. I’d hate to keep your books all to myself.”
Penelope had kissed both his cheeks, knowing that if the worst should happen, her books couldn’t find better hands to look after them.
The lagoon and terra-cotta roofs of Venice stretched out beneath her, and Penelope silently wished it another goodbye, just as she had earlier that morning, her feet in the water, her magic connected to it.
“You’ll see Venice again.” Alexis lifted their interlocked hands and kissed her fingers.
“Undoubtedly,” Penelope replied with a bravado in her voice that she fought to be believable.
“Reitia will watch over the city in our absence. If she accidentally damages the hulls of a few cruise ships while we’re gone, all the better.”
Penelope laughed, the coiled tension within her easing a little. She hadn’t been to Greece since she found the corner of the Atlantis tablet, and once again, she felt like she was being pulled full circle. She leaned back against Alexis and tried not to think of Kreios suffering in his dark cave. After she told Alexis what she’d seen the previous night, the magicians had launched into action. Weapons and equipment were packed, and Marco was summoned. He was talking with Zo a few rows away and seemed far more relaxed about his role in the upcoming conflict than Penelope was.
Five hours later, Penelope shielded her eyes against the glare of the burning sun on whitewashed houses. The port at Paros was crammed with boats and busy with fishing locals and sunburnt tourists. Penelope thought the magicians were the most conspicuous bunch of tourists by far, but none of them seemed concerned that Thevetat had spies on the island. Galenos had provided them all with forged identities, so even if Thevetat had some of his followers watching flights, they’d be none the wiser about their movements.
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