by Linsey Hall
Anxiety made my blood race as I stepped into a different elevator than before. There were two on the same wall.
Honestly, I was nervous about what I would find.
Probably wouldn’t matter, actually. I didn’t have much choice. I was an Amazon, and if I didn’t get my act together, my magic would devour me.
No magic. No soul. Simple as that.
This elevator contained glass doors instead of a glass wall so we could see into the building rather than out. At first, we passed by a few boring floors showing nothing but hallways. When we reached the first massive, hollowed-out section of the skyscraper, I gaped.
It was a war room. Or a training room, at least. It had to be an area about six stories high. The ceiling loomed overhead. Women stood along one wall, firing arrows toward the targets on the other side.
“You can see that we’ve modified the space,” Queen Hippolyta said.
“You sure have.”
The elevator descended to another large, open space. This one was even taller. Twelve stories, perhaps. There were balconies lining the exterior of the walls, and women jumped off them, attached to ropes as they fired their weapons while they fell. Beyond them, the glass walls revealed the city in the distance.
It took everything I had to keep my jaw from dropping.
“The windows are tinted, of course,” Queen Hippolyta said. “The humans don’t know quite what we do here, though we often fight on their behalf.”
“They don’t know that, either,” Queen Penthesilea said.
“What do you do for them?” I asked.
“Turn the tides of petty wars, primarily,” Queen Hippolyta said. “In remote places where our interference can go unnoticed.”
“Impressive.” Maximus’s brow was set, and it was hard to figure out exactly what he was thinking. But he clearly liked what he saw, from the tone of his voice. It looked a bit like the Colosseum, really, a massive arena where warriors fought. But here, they fought because they wanted to. They fought for a cause they believed in.
I could get behind that.
The elevator stopped at the next large, open space. A few Amazons were practicing hand-to-hand in the middle of the room, their moves so fast and their technique so skilled that I couldn’t help but be impressed.
I wanted to train with them. I could learn so much here.
The doors dinged and opened. Queen Hippolyta stepped forward. “We’ll stop here. There are more levels, but you get the point.”
“Yeah, you’re good at what you do,” I said.
“Very.” Queen Penthesilea’s voice lacked any modesty, and I liked it. The modesty would sound weird anyway. She was an ancient queen who oversaw a massive, modern-day team of warriors who worked to save the world.
Badass.
Maximus and I followed them to a collection of firm-looking couches. We sat, facing the warriors who fought on the mats in the middle of the room.
“What role do I play in this?” I asked.
“First, you must prove yourself worthy,” Queen Penthesilea said. “As all great heroes do.”
I liked the sound of that.
Who wouldn’t?
A hero.
I’d stood in my sisters’ shadow—a shadow they rightfully cast, and I was proud as hell of them—but I wouldn’t mind stepping out of it. Joining them.
“What do I need to do? Fight a monster?” Heracles had fought a ton of monsters. Jason too. All the Greek heroes had.
A wry smile tugged at the corner of Queen Hippolyta’s mouth. “You already are.”
“The Stryx.” Of course it was the Stryx. They were my trial.
“Precisely.”
“That’s one reason I’m here,” I said. “Not just because you called and I need answers about what I am. But because the Stryx are blowing holes in the earth near a village. They’re going to destroy it.”
“That’s not all the damage they’ll do.” Queen Penthesilea shook her head. “And no, before you ask, I don’t know what they are after. Only that they have been a great evil, since long before you were born. They lay dormant for millennia, but they have risen now. Whatever they want, it is not good for anyone except them.”
“And I have to stop them.”
“Yes, but first you must fix the magic inside you.” Queen Hippolyta’s face turned serious. I’d thought it was serious before, but the lines that now creased the sides of her mouth and the heaviness in her green eyes made it clear that something was about to be said that I might not like. “But first, we need your help.”
My brow wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Queen Hippolyta reached for the crystal that hung around her neck. The one that I’d noticed earlier. She removed it, and the air shimmered around her.
Suddenly, she didn’t look quite so strong and whole anymore. Her muscles seemed to deflate in front of my eyes, her neck turning skinny and her collarbones jutting out way too far. Her cheekbones became prominent and her eyes sank into their hollows. Even her hair looked lank and dull.
Queen Penthesilea removed her necklace as well, undergoing the same transformation, aging before my eyes.
I stifled a gasp. No way in hell I’d want people gasping at me if I were in their shoes, so I kept my yap shut. “What’s wrong?”
I got the words out in a mostly normal tone of voice, but my insides trembled. These women were so powerful, so strong. They did so much good in the world and held the answers to what I was.
But they were dying.
No question about it. The crystal contained a glamour that hid the truth. And I did not like the truth. Grief twisted through me at the idea of their loss. An ancient race dedicated to protecting others, and they might all be wiped out.
“Whatever is happening with the Stryx is making us ill,” Queen Hippolyta said.
“We think,” Queen Penthesilea said.
Queen Hippolyta shot her a wry look. “My sister has always been the skeptic. But this began just recently. Very recently. About the time that the Stryx began carving into the earth. Whatever it is progresses quickly. We think it is related to the Stryx. So does our most powerful seer.”
“How can I help? Is it affecting all of the Amazons?”
“All of them except you,” Queen Penthesilea said. “We believe you are protected by the strength of your magic.”
“We need a cure, but we don’t know how to find one and we’re too weak to try,” Queen Hippolyta said. “There’s only one person who might know. Atlas.”
The name rang a bell. “The guy who holds up the world?”
“The titan,” Queen Penthesilea said. “Many thousands of years ago, when the titans and the gods warred, the titans lost. Atlas and Prometheus were the only titans not thrown into Tartarus.”
“Prometheus was chained up so that an eagle could eat his liver over and over again, right? And Atlas was asked to hold up the world.”
“The celestial heavens, actually,” Queen Hippolyta said. “Though his role has changed. Same for Prometheus. He got away from the eagle long ago, but he’s still a bit of a disaster from what I hear.”
Queen Penthesilea leaned forward. “Atlas helps keep the magic in the heavens from interfering with satellites. His role is vital.”
“We need help with that sort of thing?” Maximus asked.
“Just a bit,” she said. “Human progress usually moves forward without magic interfering. They exist in harmony most of the time. But when humans began sending satellites to space, they interacted negatively with the magic in the heavens. So Atlas stepped in. He used to hold up the celestial heavens; now he holds up the satellites. So to speak.”
“But he’s sick,” Queen Hippolyta said. “He tried to get a message to us, but it was garbled. It’s clear that he is deathly ill, like us. He’s retreated. Or he’s trapped. We don’t know.”
“How are you linked to Atlas?” Maximus asked. “Are all members of the Greek pantheon ill?”
“Hermes looked okay
,” I said.
“We don’t think everyone is ill,” Queen Penthesilea said. “All of the Amazons are, and Atlas and Prometheus. But the gods are fine. Other mythical creatures as well. But we’ve been linked to Atlas for thousands of years. Humans know that we were the enemies of the Greek gods. Most of the time, at least. What many do not realize is that we fought on the side of the titans in their war against the gods. We should have been thrown into Tartarus with them when the war ended, but Atlas saved us. He smuggled us away by giving us a bit of his magic. We’ve been linked ever since. We’re not close to him anymore—it’s been thousands of years—so we don’t know where he is. But the ties that bind us are still there.”
“So if he’s sick and you’re sick, it’s the same thing,” Maximus said.
“We believe so,” Queen Hippolyta said. “It’s magic, not true illness. And Atlas is the only one who might have an answer. Our seer prophesied that you can help us.”
“We’re too weak to leave, anyway.” Queen Penthesilea gave a sad laugh. “Thousands of years of being the strongest, and now we are laid low.”
“Not for long.” I leaned forward and gripped her hand. “I will fix this.”
I had no idea how, but I wasn’t going to let my new family suffer like this. Another thought popped into my head. Oh, shit. “If Atlas dies from this, what happens to the satellites?”
“They fail,” Queen Hippolyta said. “The magic that is so strong in outer space will eat away at them quickly.”
Shit. A world without satellites would be chaos.
“And if they fail, it would be catastrophic,” Queen Penthesilea said. “Human militaries rely heavily on satellites. Our seer has prophesied that if all of their communications go out, one of the great militaries will interpret it as an act of war by a foreign power. A massive world war will break out as a result.”
My stomach dropped. “World War III?”
“Precisely.” Queen Hippolyta’s skin was pale at the thought.
So I wasn’t just saving the Amazons. I was saving everyone.
“Do you have any idea where I should start?” I had no idea how to find a titan.
“With Prometheus, the only other titan who is not locked up in Tartarus,” Queen Penthesilea said. “Atlas tried to get us a message, so he may have tried with Prometheus as well. Perhaps Prometheus knows more. We’ve heard he is in Istanbul. Apparently he likes to spend time at the Bosphorus bar. You may be able to find him there. He likes his drink.”
So would I, if I had memories of my liver being eaten out of me by an eagle, over and over again.
“He’s a wary bastard,” Queen Hippolyta said. “Always on edge, thinking he’ll be captured. I suggest that only one of you approach him. Keep his suspicions at bay.”
I nodded. We could do that.
Queen Penthesilea reached into her pocket and handed me an elegant business card. “If you need anything—weapons, transportation, knowledge—call us.”
My hand closed around the card.
“And be careful,” Queen Hippolyta said. “He hates our kind.”
“So he could hate me.” Great.
Queen Hippolyta smiled. “Just don’t let him know what you are.”
6
The Bosphorus bar was a little hole in the wall, far from the business district. Here, the buildings were older, smaller. The crowd was different too. Fewer slick business suits and people yelling into their cell phones.
As we approached the bar, Maximus reached for my hand. “Be careful. I’ll have my eye on you.”
I squeezed his hand. “Thanks. Back atcha.”
“I’ll enter a few minutes after you and stick near the bar. If you need me, make a signal.”
I grinned. “It’ll probably be real obvious.” I doubted that there’d be a subtle, save me from this awkward conversation gesture. More like a knockdown, drag-out fight. “You won’t miss it.”
Though hopefully we could avoid it. All I needed was info on how to find Atlas, and I needed it fast. No fight necessary.
Near the door, I let go of Maximus’s hand. I wanted to lean up and press a kiss to his cheek, but I’d probably better not. I needed to be on my game, not on him.
“Be careful.” His soft words followed me toward the door.
I pushed it open and stepped inside the dimly lit interior. The bar was small and narrow against the left wall, with little tables crowding the rest of the space. Prometheus’s magic hit me in the chest as soon as I entered, and I nearly stumbled.
It smelled of fire and tasted of peaches, followed by the sensation of heat and the sound of an eagle screeching.
Man, titans were powerful.
This had to be an all-supernatural bar if he was letting his signature hang out like that. If he was so obsessed with hiding, why was he making such a big show of it?
Idiot.
I scanned the bar, spotting him easily. He sat in the back corner, a big man hunched over a little table. His eyes were slightly bleary and his face haggard. Clothes rumpled and shoes untied.
Ah, yep.
Drunk.
So that explained the over-the-top magical signature.
Jeez, poor guy.
Honestly, the Greek gods were bastards as far as I could tell. All Prometheus had done was give the humans fire. That hardly deserved eternal torment. He’d escaped, clearly, but the torture had left its mark.
I approached his table, debating my first words.
I didn’t get a chance to utter them.
“Who are you?” His voice was surly as I stopped in front of his table. He actually wasn’t a bad-looking guy, just rough around the edges.
“I’m Rowan.”
“What are you?”
Um…
He held up a finger. “Wait, wait. I’ve got it.” He pointed at me. “You’re a…DragonGod.”
I frowned at him. “How could you tell?”
It wasn’t something that was obvious at first glance, I was sure of it.
He shrugged. “Titan. I know stuff.”
I sank into the seat across from him, noting the strange, empty glass on the table. It was shaped roughly like a test tube, with a residual milky liquid clinging to the inside of the glass. “That’s what I’m here to talk to you about.”
“Like what?” He scratched his sandy blond hair, his expression making it clear that the wheels were turning very creakily inside his head.
Yeah, Prometheus had been through some stuff, all right.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “I need to know where Atlas is.”
He scowled. “Why would I tell you that?”
“Well, I was hoping—”
“Another?” A feminine voice sounded from over my shoulder, and I turned.
A tall, dark-haired woman stood there, tray propped on her hip. Her brows were darkly lined and her lipstick red as she smacked away at some gum.
“Several,” Prometheus slurred.
The woman’s gaze landed on me. “And you?”
“Coffee, please.”
“They’re for her.” Prometheus pointed to me. “And several for me too.”
“How many is several?” She arched a dark brow.
“You choose, honey.”
She turned and left, a bored expression on her face.
I looked at Prometheus. “I’m not here to drink.”
“Well, you’re not here to get information, either. Because I’m”—he stabbed a finger at his chest—“not talking.”
“Are you sure about that?”
As he pondered the question for a little too long, I felt the air change in the room. The door slammed shut.
Maximus must have entered. I could feel the weight of his gaze, just briefly.
I turned slightly, my gaze landing on him. He was headed to the bar, no longer looking at me. Dang, he looked good in here. Tall and fit and towering over the little tables.
I turned back to Prometheus. “It’s sure taking a while for you to decide.”
&nb
sp; “Decide what?”
Yeah, this dude was drunk. And maybe if I could get him a little drunker, he’d get chatty.
The waitress appeared a moment later, six test tubes of clear liquid on her tray. A pitcher of water accompanied them. She offloaded her cargo. “Call if you want anything.”
“We will, sweetie.”
Ugh, Prometheus. With the “sweeties” and “honeys.” He might look like a young man, but he sounded like an old one.
“Do you like Raki?” he asked.
“No idea.”
He poured a bit of water into each test tube, and the liquid turned a milky white. “Traditional Turkish drink. Will burn the lining right off your throat.”
“Sounds tasty.”
He shrugged. “Can be.”
He raised the glass to his mouth, and I followed suit, chugging back the white liquid. It burned like fire going down, and I coughed.
“It’s not tasty,” I sputtered.
Prometheus smacked his lips. “You might change your mind.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. Give me a nice beer any day.
“Another!” Prometheus poured the water into the next two glasses, and we drank.
As I swallowed the burning stuff—thankfully keeping my coughing to a minimum this time—my fingertips found the little vial of potion in my belt that I was definitely going to need. Sober Up tonic would be my saving grace tonight, because no way I could drink Prometheus under the table. This guy was a pro. I had a feeling that being a titan helped.
As we drank the third glass of Raki, I felt Maximus’s gaze drilling into me. Probably worried about my alcohol consumption. Couldn’t blame him. I was knocking them back.
Throat on fire, I set down my glass and leaned toward Prometheus. “So, tell me about Atlas.”
“Why do you want to know about that loser?”
“He’s sick, and I need to help him.” In fact, Prometheus didn’t look so good himself, now that I was up close and really looking. I’d thought his rough look was from the alcohol, and maybe it was, but he also had the wasted muscles and prominent collarbones that the Amazons had had. He wasn’t as bad off, but I’d bet he was sick, too.
“He doesn’t need your help. He’s doing fine.” He frowned. “Though he did send that message. Couldn’t understand anything in it. But he’s probably fine.”
