by Kelly Keaton
He could only lift his head a few inches, and only for a few seconds before the weight of it was too much. The two goons holding him by his armpits didn’t seem to notice.
The tunnel opened into a large circular chamber with three tunnels splitting off from it and three open doors that led into rooms. In the center was what appeared to be a large nurse’s station.
Sebastian wasn’t sure if he was seeing things or if the odd, out of place scene was truly real. He tossed a quick glance to the open door on his right. Hospital bed. Blinking machines. Someone hooked up to monitors and an IV line.
His head fell back down.
A sickly sweat broken out on his skin as he struggled to stay conscious.
With effort, he readied himself for another glance to the room on his left as the goons slowed near the nurse’s station. As they exchanged words, he drew in a breath and lifted his head.
He frowned.
The room was posh, fit for a king.
A huge male slept on a bed, eyes closed, hands over his chest. Sleeping or unconscious, he radiated power, a dark, menacing kind that could easily steal the warmth from every living thing around.
Before he could observe more, he was pulled to the third room and hauled onto the bed. The movement of being turned over and now facing the ceiling sent his head into a tailspin.
Blackness rose up to greet him.
TWENTY-ONE
IMPRESSIVE, HE’D SAID. That could mean a lot of things, and from Thanatos’ enigmatic expression it was hard to figure out what the hell he meant.
A vague hint of amusement tugged his mouth. He rubbed his jaw. “How did you find out so quickly?” He dropped his hand and leaned back in his seat. “Apollo has not yet awoken.”
I gulped down the intimidation I was feeling and answered. “Lamia.”
His only reaction was to lift his hand and rub his thumb over his bottom lip, his sharp, ageless eyes never leaving mine.
Weary desperation was slowly threading its way into my psyche. All I wanted was to see Archer, to know he was safe and our journey hadn’t been for nothing.
“The child lives,” he assured me. “Hestia wanted me to kill him. He’s quite the little hindrance, the way she sees it.”
“And you don’t?” I blurted.
“Child of Athena fated to start the Blood Wars and potentially kill or enslave the gods.” Thanatos waved an impatient hand. “It matters not to me.”
I wasn't expecting his cavalier attitude. It was clear Thanatos considered himself out of Archer’s reach. And, who knew, maybe he was. If he didn’t see Archer as a threat, that was a very, very good thing.
“So . . . why take him then?”
Thanatos paused as though deciding whether to share. “A means to an end. My end,” he finally answered. “Hestia wants control of Olympus, so she came to me. I take out Apollo. Kill the kid. And she’s free and clear to exert her control over the mountain.” A lethal smile twisted his lips. “It’ll all come crashing down once Horus and Artemis are free of the little hindrance I arranged for them. Hestia’s going to die.” A savage light flared in his dark eyes.
It was like a living thing, his sudden fixation on death, the eagerness with which it snagged his attention.
The threat in the air, the promise of death so strong it rolled over me, closing my throat. Violet squeezed my hand tightly and I knew she felt it, too. Even Mel seemed affected, frowning, and pulling at the collar of her gown.
I worked my throat, trying to clear it, wanting answers as much as needing to distract him. “But . . .” I coughed against the tightness in my throat. “you didn’t follow through with her plan.”
His attention snapped to me. “No. Not completely.” He paused. “Apollo got the smack down he’s long deserved. I get the kid, thereby bringing the god-killer straight to my door. You are quite resourceful for one so young.” His gaze went to Violet. “You as well, little one.”
His words sank in, spreading with icy clarity and leaving me numb. “That’s what this is about,” I said with bitterness and disbelief. “You took Archer to bring me here.”
“Well,” he answered as he stroked his bottom lip, “yes.”
I drew in a deep breath to steady myself before confronting him grim look. “So which is it? Kill or resurrect?”
Because those were the only two abilities I had that could be of any value to the god before me. I could kill a god. And I could resurrect a being turned to stone. With Athena’s death and the resurrection of Archer, I had proven myself, made a name for myself.
And in the process painted a nice big X on my forehead.
A zealous flash shone in his unusual eyes. Nothing changed in his body language or facial expression, but I'd seen it and knew whatever he wanted me to do was going to be intense.
“I want you to resurrect the grace, Euthymia, from Athena's stone garden on Mount Olympus and bring her to me. Once she has been delivered, I will hand over Archer.”
I resisted casting a look at Mel that said, “sound familiar?” Everyone wanted something and I was so tired of it, I had to bite my tongue to keep from going off on them.
“Unharmed, soul intact,” I replied, tightly. “I want him exactly how he was before you took him. We’ll need safe passage from Erebos, through the Underworld, and into Olympus once we have him.”
His casual pose couldn’t hide the almost violent pleasure he felt at his triumph. “Of course.”
Silence fell in the palace hall. It seemed too easy and too odd that all this had happened--not as an attack on Archer, at least not by the one who ended up with him, but as a means for the god of Death to retrieve one of the graces.
Bringing a gentle being like a grace into the Underworld was just cruel. “What do you want with her anyway?” I asked, completely overstepping my boundaries.
A swift, oppressive wave of anger rolled over the room, telling me to mind my own damn business. His attention moved to Mel, lips thinning irritably. “I have no doubt Melinoe will relay the tale.”
“What?” she said evenly with an unapologetic shrug. “It's a good story.”
He shot her a withering look and the walls around us trembled. His head canted back to me. “Euthymia is my intended mate. And, in this, the Fates,” he sneered the word, “seem intent on throwing obstacles in my path.”
“I don't think it was the Fates,” Mel mumbled and for that she received a blistering glare that shook the ground.
What the hell was she doing? Provoking an already irate god of death seemed like a good way to get us--I don’t know--killed. Though, she didn’t appear too concerned.
A chilling calm slid over Thanatos as he leaned forward in his seat, Mel in the crosshairs of his wrath. Her chin lifted. Her narrowing eyes glowed like the ghostly spirits of her train, which whipped out behind her, reflecting her fury. Oh, she was pissed. “Try it, asshole,” she dared.
He leaned so far forward I knew he was about to pounce. The air snapped with power as dark energy began to take shape around him. “Want a taste of death so badly, do you?”
“I’m half dead already, so give it your best shot. How about a little madness, paranoia? How ‘bout closing your eyes and seeing all that you love and want, destroyed, crushed into tiny shards of stone that no resurrection can save. How about seeing your Euthymia every damn night in your dreams, turning you down, running, rather than be with you. You want to relive it? Bring it, and we’ll see who comes out on top.”
Holy shit.
“Hard for you to do, if you’re dead,” he fired back.
He shot off the dais.
Mel surged forward.
“Children, please.”
They stopped nose to nose as the pressure in the chamber dropped, making my ear drums ache. Within the blackness that now shrouded Thanatos’ dais, a shadow emerged.
A gorgeous dark-winged angel.
Violet squeezed my arm. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” she whispered, pained and no doubt feeling the pressu
re drop as acutely as I was.
“Yeah,” I replied in a low voice. “Be ready for anything, okay?”
“Okay. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” I squeezed her hand in gratitude.
“Oh my God,” I breathed suddenly. “Violet, look.”
As the winged being cleared the blackness, a huge punch of relief hit me right in the chest. Archer. The dark angel held him on her hip with one arm, while trying to pull a loch of her black hair from Archer’s grip.
I blinked, completely thunderstruck, wondering if the pain in my ears was making me see things. The pressure was unbearable, I let go of Violet and held my hands over my ears.
“Oh. Shoot. Apologies,” the winged angel said, her powerful voice at odds with the words that came out of her mouth. Instantly, the pressure was gone, and Mel and Thanatos relaxed a little. Apparently, whatever she had done had affected them, too.
As she floated down the dais steps on a cloud of dark mist, I glanced to Violet to make sure she was okay.
The dark angel stopped next to Thanatos and Mel as they continued their contest of wills. “See what you juvenile delinquents made me do? I could have melted their brains, holding you back from each other. I swear if I hadn’t birthed you,” she told Thanatos, “I’d think you two were siblings.”
“Mother,” Thanatos said in greeting, stepping back from Mel, but never taking his eyes off her.
Mother. A shaky breath escaped me. The mother of Thanatos was Nyx, primordial goddess of night, a being feared by the great Zeus himself.
Her attention went to my stunned face, hiking Archer higher onto her hip. “I've forgotten how little they are,” she said with a smile. Archer had one chubby hand clutching Nyx’s shimmering black gown and the other clutching a handful of the goddess’s long, black hair. She winced as he gave a tug. “And . . . forgot,” she tried to disentangle her hair, “how they love hair.”
So. Freaking. Surreal.
Whenever I thought I’d seen it all or couldn’t be surprised any more, I was proved wrong in enormous ways. It was crazy. Unbelievable. And there was nothing I could do except go with it because in the end it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Archer. And he was right there.
And okay. He was okay.
Relief bubbled up from my throat and came out in laugh. The scene before me was absurd and astonishing and dazzling, Nyx’s shiny black wings framing them as she and Archer vied for dominion over her beautiful black hair.
“He does that to mine, too,” I said, a note of crazy in my voice. “I had to start wearing it up, so he couldn’t get to it.”
Archer loved hair. There were days on the lawn in Olympus when I’d lay him on a blanket and bend over him, my hair falling in a curtain around him, letting him grab and pull and laugh to his heart’s content. My throat grew thick at the vivid memory. God, I’d missed him.
Nyx offered me an understanding look. “Would you like to say hi? My son,” she threw a hard, paternal scold his way, “has asked I not hand him over to you just yet, suspicious mind that he is.”
“It’s okay. I understand.” I wasn't going to get Archer until I brought Euthymia back.
Violet and I stepped closer. I’d studied the gods during my classes at Presby and had always envisioned Nyx as a frightening night creature, much like her son. And while she was pure, distilled primal power and fearsome in her own right, she was also elegant and regal, radiant in her nighttime splendor. She was six feet tall, her thick hair a long sheet of black silk. Her skin was smooth and pale, almost pearl-like. Her eyes at first appeared black, but as I drew closer I saw they were the deepest, darkest, inkiest blue shot with starry flecks.
Her wings gave her the impression of being ten feet tall, looming over us as we stopped in front of her. She smelled like the night, a cool, fresh, clear scent that put me in mind of a virgin forest at midnight.
“Look who’s here to see you,” she cooed to Archer, bouncing him on her hip.
He started at us, sucking on his fist, which was wrapped with Nyx’s hair. “Hey buddy.” His feet kicked at the sound of my voice and he let out happy gurgle. “You doing okay, big man?”
His fist dropped from his mouth and his smile was pure joy. His chubby arms went crazy, yanking goddess's hair. “Ah,” she grunted, wincing. “No, pulling Aunt Nyxie's hair, child,” She extricated her hair from his grasp, looking a little frazzled.
Violet reached up and tugged on his foot. He looked down at her and kicked his feet wildly, making happy sounds. He’d been well cared for, it seemed, and the heavy weight and worry I’d had lifted. If I could resurrect Euthymia and return her to Thanatos, I’d have Archer back home and without any residual trauma from his experience.
Nyx turned her starry eyes on me. “My son deserves his bride, though why he wants her after she denied him I have no idea.” She cast a glance over her shoulder as he walked up the steps to his throne. “Look at him. He could have any goddess, nymph, siren, muse he wants, and yet he wants her. For the simple fact that she rejected him. Males,” she mumbled in disgust. “Will never figure them out.”
Archer reached out to me, but Nyx was quick to angle him away, bouncing him and kissing his forehead to distract him. “Not yet, baby boy, not yet,” she murmured, before leveling a penetrating gaze my way. “Bring Euthymia here and you have my word Archer is yours and you’ll be seen safely back to your home.”
The word of a supreme deity was golden and way more than I ever expected or hoped for. “Thank you.”
Thanatos leaned his hip against the arm of his throne, his big arms folded over his chest. He exchanged an unreadable look with his mother as she climbed the steps and disappeared into the darkness behind the dais.
“Melinoe will continue as your guide,” he said after Nyx had gone. “Archer becomes the property of Erebos if you’re not back in twelve hours.”
“Not leaving any room for bathroom breaks, are you?” I said dryly.
Humor twitched his lips. “Just think, god-killer, in half a day that chaos you call a baby will be back in your arms.”
I bit back a smile. “A handful, isn’t he?”
His dead-pan look said it all.
“Just wait until he’s full grown,” I said with conviction. “He’s going to change the world.”
Archer’s mark on the world would leave a permanent impression. And while free-will existed within the boundaries of his fate, allowing him to chose his path, he couldn’t escape his destiny to bring about great change and alter the course of the supernatural world.
“Careful,” Thanatos warned, his tone deepening. “Words have power.”
I met his black stare. “I know. And you’ll need to decide whose side you’re on when Archer rises to power.”
With that, I spun on my heel and walked away. Violet and Mel fell in beside me, and as we crossed the vast expanse of stone, a deep, masculine chuckle echoed through the hall.
As we traversed the familiar path out of the palace and through the Gates of Erebos, all the nerves and fears and doubts since this entire journey began crashed over me and washed away, leaving me shaky, strung out, and in utter disbelief that I’d survived thus far.
But as we made the long, hot, sweat-your-ass-off journey back to the Asphodel Fields, my amazement bled to irritation. All my worry over the Salian Front, over losing Archer to a group that would change him, turn him into a weapon, a killing machine had been misplaced. The Front would always remain our biggest concern when it came to Archer, but right now, this whole thing in the here and now came down to Thanatos’ fucking love life.
Unbelievable.
I ground my teeth together, wanting to punch the god right in his beautiful mouth.
I hated being used, hated the realization that every powerful force out there who thought they could use me for my power, would most likely target my friends and family to make me do their bidding. Athena, Mel, Thanatos... When did it end? How did I prevent this from happening again?
I’d resurrect
Euthymia, exchange her for Archer, and get the hell out of the Underworld. The rest I’d have to figure out later.
“Ari,” Mel warned from way behind me. I was getting too far ahead of our little group, my anger pushing hard.
I whirled and threw my arms out wide. “What? What could you possibly have to say, Mel? You wanna take a bite out me too? Need to off a god, resurrect your favorite puppy.”
Her eyes narrowed as she and Violet approached. “I never had a puppy.”
I fixed her with a smart look, my tirade just getting started. “Oh, no wait, you already took your bit of flesh, didn’t you. Mine and hers,” I flung an angry hand toward Violet without looking at her. “I’m so fucking sick of your kind.”
My throat was hoarse, my breathing ragged. Sweat ran into my eye and I swiped it away, irritably. A flash of shock crossed Mel’s two-toned features, followed by a tiny bit of . . . guilt. So, she had a conscience. Give the girl a prize.
Whatever.
I shook my head, done with her and the whole thing.
God only knew what Sebastian was going through, what “little hindrance” Thanatos had put in Horus and Artemis’s way. No doubt, he was knee deep in shit.
Violet and Mel kept their distance as I stormed down the dusty road. Wisely, Mel didn’t warn me to stay close. Maybe she realized I needed a moment to march off some steam.
My power wasn’t going to change. The fact, that I was a god-killer and could resurrect wasn’t going to change. Artemis had taken away my monster and left me with all its power. And yet that power came with a price, a price I was just starting to understand.
After a while, I slowed my pace, found a rock to lean against and waited for Mel and Violet to round the corner. Strange sight, I thought watching them, Violet with her wilted feathered mask, and Mel with her strange black and white skin and glittering gown.
They came to stop in front of me. Exhausted, Violet sat on the ground, pulled off her shoes and wiggled her toes. Her face was smeared with grime and her poor feathers on her mask drooped sadly.
