Myths of Immortality (The Sphinx Book 3)

by Wagner, Raye

  The god acknowledged his words with a small nod. “I can see that you must.”

  “I didn’t drink from the river—”

  Hermes waved away the words. “I can see that. So can Hecate. She’s trying to get something from me. What about your other companions? Are you here with more than the son of Ares?”

  “There is a daughter of Eris, too. She fell in the river.” Athan’s stomach turned with the memories. “She consumed a lot.”

  Hermes frowned. “I will not be able to save her.”

  “But—”

  “There are laws, Athan. Hades rules the Underworld in a very organized fashion. I cannot break the law without making recompense.” The god of thieves, languages, commerce, and boundaries sat down on the bench, as if the weight of his words pressed him down. “Ares’s son is a better fighter, so I would encourage you to take him with you. She drank from the river, so one of you will be bound here. I doubt you will want to trade places with her.”

  Xan will never forgive me . Nor would Hope. Athan shoved the feeling of betrayal away. In truth, he would likely never forgive himself, but he would save Hope, no matter what the cost.

  “Fine,” he choked out, but he couldn’t bring his eyes to meet his father’s.

  Hermes put his hand on Athan’s shoulder. “It is not selfish to act so. Even if you’d protested, I cannot save Eris’s daughter from the Underworld.”

  Even with his father’s statement, guilt pressed on Athan’s heart. “Can you do nothing for her?”

  “Is she skilled? She is certainly beautiful, but that will not serve her well with Hecate.”

  His words sounded like a warning.

  “Aren’t all demigods attractive?” He couldn’t help the defensiveness. No one wanted to be judged solely on their appearance. “She’s an excellent fighter. Second only to her cousin.”

  Hermes grimaced. “Is she smart?”

  They hadn’t taken any classes together, but Xan wouldn’t put up with her if she was an idiot. Even if she was family. “She’s not dumb.”

  “Sometimes that’s worse.” Hermes sighed, and his shoulders sagged with acceptance. “I will do what I can, but she may not thank me for it.”

  Athan had to believe it would make it better. Better than her just dying.

  “No matter what I say, don’t protest.” Hermes met Athan’s eyes with no spark of fun or teasing. “No matter what, okay?”

  Athan nodded. He understood what his father wasn’t saying. He wasn’t going to like the way this went down. Which meant there was a good possibility Xan wouldn’t like it either.

  Xan stood inside the doorway, still flanked by the two female guards. Hecate rose from her throne as soon as they entered and gracefully glided toward them.

  As soon as they crossed into the large cavern, Hermes pushed Athan away from him and toward the goddess. “I can’t believe your stupidity. You have not acted in a way befitting your station.” The god turned to Hecate. “You may have him.”

  Athan’s stomach hit his toes. His father couldn’t be serious. Not after what he’d just said in the hall. This must be part of his plan, but anxiety crawled over Athan nonetheless.

  Hermes stepped closer and shoved his son again. “He is remarkably dense for being my son. Probably only good to be one of those .” He waved at the men standing beside her chaise. “You may as well take both of them. They’re nothing more than pretty faces.”

  Both of them? Hermes words didn’t make sense, but Athan pushed away at the doubt crashing into him.

  “What?” Xan yelled, stepping forward.

  The two priestesses stepped with him, grabbed his arms, and pulled him back to where he’d been standing.

  Hecate’s face clouded with confusion. “The son of Ares hasn’t consumed anything here. He is not bound.”

  “No?” Hermes pinched his lips. “No matter. I will trade them both for the girl.”

  Hecate chuckled, but her smirk appeared to pain her. “You favor the daughter of Eris?”

  Hermes withdrew a pace as if the words were a physical shock. “Favor her? Absolutely not.”

  More confusion clouded the goddess’s fair face. “But she is quite beautiful.”

  Xan muttered obscenities under his breath.

  “I do not want her for her looks.” He indicated behind him where Xan and Athan now stood. “Dip them in the Lethe. They are handsome enough for you, right?” Hermes continued as he stepped up to Hecate. “But I would like the daughter of Eris.”

  Hecate said nothing as she worried her lip with her teeth.

  Athan could almost hear the wheels of her mind clicking through the information. “Is she intelligent? A strong fighter?”

  Hermes broke their gaze and stared up at the dark rock. “No, not at all.”

  The air hung heavy with the lie, and they all knew it.

  Hecate narrowed her gaze. “I would look upon the daughter of Eris again.” The goddess stepped from the dais. “Come with me.”

  The guards grabbed Xan and pulled him through the doorway. Athan waited by his father until Hecate swept past.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered once the goddess had exited the room.

  The resounding crack of Hermes’s strike brought tears to Athan’s eyes. The initial sting blossomed into an ache that made his head throb.

  “Don’t speak to me. No son of mine would be so foolish.”

  For the first time, Athan wondered if his father was really acting. He closed his eyes, willing the tears not to fall. Worse than the physical pain was the doubt. He’d never seen his father so cruel, and there was no reason for it. No explanation. Athan’s hesitation cost him any chance of looking into his father’s eyes. By the time Athan raised his head, Hermes was gone, and Athan was left to catch up.

  There was plenty of noise to direct him down the hall, and as he followed it, he mused that this was close to where he’d woken up. Approaching the door, he realized it was right next door to where he’d been, in fact. He shook his head and entered.

  His face still throbbed, but the pain was nothing next to the sight in front of him.

  Blood ran down the side of Xan’s face, but he knelt, oblivious to the open wound, holding his cousin’s hand.

  The sheets were twisted around Dahlia’s body, and as she thrashed, Athan could see why. Her once vibrant skin was gray and ashen, her lips pale and cracked. Dark bags aged her appearance, and her eyes were sunken deep into her skull. She looked like death.

  Athan let his eyes flit over the rest of the room.

  The two guards were crumpled in a heap inside the doorway, and it didn’t take a genius to see what had happened.

  Hermes’s face was filled with sorrow, and Athan knew his father was lost in memories of his own loss.

  Only Hecate seemed unconcerned with the state of her guests. The Underworld goddess leaned against the black rock, her pale skin and green chiton a striking contrast. Her eyes bore into the demigod daughter of contention and strife.

  “You will have to burn through the desperation that has filled her.”

  Hermes snorted. “It will not be just desperation. Her soul will be filled with anguish and loss.” He stared at the goddess until she looked away. “As you well know.” He sighed as if put out. “Nevertheless, I’ll take her with me.”

  He approached the bed and nudged Xan.

  Xan’s head snapped up, and his eyes glinted with fire. He stood; his clenched hands hung by his sides. “What do you want of her, Lord Hermes?”

  Hermes stared at Xan. “You have two minutes to say goodbye to her, son. And that’s a mercy you don’t deserve.”

  This man was nothing like the father Athan knew. This god was used to getting his way, and humans and demigods were subjects to do his will, nothing more.

  Hermes leaned over and picked up a lock of Dahlia’s dark hair. He let it drop through his fingers. Athan watched while a mixture of awe and disgust churned through him. Had he not been so focused, he would’ve mi
ssed the pain that skirted through his father’s eyes. What was he doing?

  Hecate stepped closer, brushing past Athan and coming to a stop in front of Dahlia. The goddess of witchcraft placed her hands hovering just over the demigod’s head, then her chest, and finally rested them on Dahlia’s navel. With a gleam in her eyes she said, “On second thought, keep your son. Take him and his friend. The girl is mine.”

  “But we agreed—”

  Hecate glared up at Hermes and held up her hand. “There was no agreement.”

  She turned back to Dahlia and felt her pulse, lifted her eyelids, and then put her hands back on her abdomen. “She will be fine.” Violet light pulsed from beneath her palms once, twice, three times into Dahlia’s belly.

  Dahlia screamed, then rolled to her side to retch over the edge of the bed. Tarry sludge spewed onto Hecate’s feet, splattering on the edges of her flowy chiton.

  Hecate placed the palm of her hand to Dahlia’s forehead and pushed the demigod back to the bed. She then turned to the other occupants. “Get out.” Her eyes glowed the same pale purple that had glowed from her palms only moments before. “Right now.”

  Hermes grabbed Athan and Xan and pulled them from the room.

  The door closed as soon as they’d passed the threshold.

  Hermes embraced his son but said nothing.

  What was going on? “Dad?”

  Hermes shook his head.

  “When will she be better?” Xan asked.

  “Not before you’re dead, and maybe not even then.”

  Xan moved to push past the god, but Hermes blocked him and pushed him back. “The worst thing you could do right now is go back in there. You’d be damning you both to Tartarus, or worse.” He shoved him down the corridor and indicated that Athan follow. “Move.”

  Hermes ducked into the changing room a second time, pulling both the demigods with him.

  “Mother Gaia.” Hermes released a long breath.

  Xan’s features were stony, and he glared at Hermes. “Bloody hell.”

  Athan didn’t know what to say. Had his father saved Dahlia or damned her? Athan was afraid to ask, afraid to find out the answer. Something deep within told him he didn’t really want to know.

  Xan’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. He turned toward the door and whispered a farewell to Dahlia. “May you find peace in this realm.”

  “Why didn’t you fight harder for her?” Athan asked.

  Xan turned to Hermes. “Would it have done any good? Could I have saved her?”

  Hermes glanced down before meeting Xan’s eyes. “No.”

  Xan swallowed hard and glared at Athan. “Don’t mistake acceptance for cowardice. She would’ve never been happy in the mortal realm. Maybe she’ll even be able to find Roan.”

  “Roan is here? In the Underworld?”

  Xan flinched. “You aren’t the only one who’s lost someone because I failed.”

  Athan knew immediately what Xan was referring to. Xan had spent more than one night, legless , as he called it, or rather drowning his sorrows in liquor. He’d been drunk the night he’d taken Isa out. Obviously, he’d made the same mistake years before with Roan. “Did she know?”

  Xan shook his head. “I could never find the words.”

  Gods. He’d never even told his cousin? “Skata .”

  “Where are you going?” Hermes asked, his body sagging against the wall. Whatever game he’d been playing had made him nervous, too. “Wherever it is, we need to get you out of here before she finds a reason to keep you here. Trust me . . .”

  And even though he didn’t finish the sentence, the weight of the words was enough to convey the message. They did not want to serve Hecate.

  Their best chance at finding Hope was to get the ruler of the Underworld to agree to help them. “We need to get to the palace of Hades.”

  Hermes ran his hand through his hair again before squaring his shoulders. “I won’t be able to help you after this.”

  Athan nodded.

  Hermes placed both hands on Athan’s shoulders. “Think before you speak. Don’t eat or drink anything. And be very careful what you commit to.”

  Blinding light exploded, forcing Athan to close his eyes. A deafening boom resonated through his entire body, and his ears began to ring.

  Luc met Hope’s eyes and leaned toward her as he started his story. “Leto and I met at the grocery store. I admit I was mesmerized by her beauty, but after an afternoon of chatting about . . . well, everything, I knew I couldn’t let her go.” He ran his hand over Leto’s head in a soft caress. “We dated and, as you know, fell in love and got married.”

  “If you loved her, why did you leave?” Hope wasn’t angry anymore, but she wasn’t going to let him off the hook on this either. “People don’t abandon those they love, right?”

  “You are right.” Luc’s shoulders slumped. Then, after a deep breath, he continued, “We’d been married for about a month, maybe two, when your mother asked me to sit down. She had something she needed to tell me . . .”

  He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. When he opened them, his features smoothed out and he smiled, as if the memories were right there, in front of him.

  “I wanted to put the conversation off,” he said then turned to Leto. “Remember, I wanted to go on a date.”

  She swallowed, and her eyes filled with tears. “I remember.”

  “It was almost like I could feel your fear, and I wanted to make it better. But mostly, I was worried, because I had deceived you. You called me Symeon, and every time it made my heart ache. I hadn’t even told you my first name.”

  Leto waved away his concern. “I love both your names.”

  Hope wanted to tell them to speed it up already; their mushy declarations of love were weird and made her uncomfortable. Like her parents needed some time alone. “Do you want me to come back another time?”

  Leto smacked Hope’s leg. “Manners.”

  Hope blushed from the reprimand. She was being rude. How hard would it be to bite her tongue while he finished his story? Clearly, her mother loved Luc. It was the least Hope could do. “Sorry.”

  Luc leaned over toward Hope. “It’s okay that you’re upset. I won’t begrudge you that. But I do care, and I think you really do want to know what happened.”

  He was right, and Hope settled back into the couch to hear his story.

  “Your mother refused to go out, saying that what she had to say couldn’t wait, not even a few hours. We sat down on the sofa, and . . . I held her hand in mine. I think that was the first inkling I had there was something more about her. Her skin was . . . is the same golden tone as mine.”

  “She made me promise not to be angry, and I was so surprised. What could she say that would make me angry? I promised. Of course, I promised. Then, she asked me if I believed in the gods.” He flinched as if the memory caused him physical pain. “In that moment, my concern shifted to apprehensive unease. Had she already suspected me? Did she know what I was?”

  Leto shook her head. “I had no idea.”

  Luc nodded. “I know, dear.” He looked back to Hope. “I tried to be casual and asked her why she wanted to know, but I had no idea what was coming. She told me she wasn’t human, whispered it in a pained voice and closed her eyes. She was so afraid of my reaction she refused to look at me, and it made my heart ache. But inside, I was relieved. I thought she’d meant she was a demigod, and I was excited with all that could mean. We could spend eternity together if we were careful. I thought the Fates had smiled on us. I thought it was a divine blessing.”

  He pursed his lips.

  Hope no longer wanted to interrupt him. She clenched her mother’s hand and waited for more.

  “I tried to reassure her, but she cut me off, telling me there was more she needed to say. Her persistent anxiety was making me nervous, and I wanted to tell her it was okay because we were the same. But she had to tell me something before it was too late. Too late . Those were the words
that made me close my mouth and just listen.”

  “She told me that a god had tried to court her grandmother, and my frenzied mind misunderstood. I knew how demigods were formed. But then she said that her grandmother had refused the god and chosen her mortal lover. That’s when I knew something wasn’t right. That couldn’t be right. But it was her next words that made my heart stop. She asked if I believed in curses.”

  Pulling her hand away from Hope’s, Leto wiped at the tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry.”

  Luc knelt in front of his wife. Cupping her face with his hands, he wiped away the rest of the moisture with his thumbs. “You are not to cry for me anymore. I don’t mourn my choice. I’ve never regretted it.”

  He sat on the floor at his wife’s feet and looked up at Hope. “Leto asked me if I believed in monsters. I couldn’t believe it at first. It was impossible. Monsters were half-breeds, and your mother was physically human. I knew that was what she was implying, that she was a monster, and for a brief moment, I thought maybe she was insane. But as to my belief? I knew that monsters existed. I’d seen them: centaurs, the Mer, even a griffin. I admitted my knowledge, even as I wondered where the conversation was going.”

  “She told me that her mother was a monster, and I tried to think of how that could be possible. The only explanation I could conceive was that some of the primordial deities had the ability to appear as monsters as well as human. But your mother assured me her mother wasn’t a primordial deity.

  Luc sighed. Resting his head on the couch, he closed his eyes as he continued, “My father used to tell me stories. He’d tell me of conquests . . . and curses. I’d heard the story of the Sphinx more than once, but I didn’t know she could become human. I don’t think anyone did.”

  “Leto told me that her grandmother refused the advances of the god, and in vengeance, the god had killed her and cursed her newborn baby. The baby, her mother, sought the aid of the Graeae, who reinterpreted the curse, thus allowing the monster to live as human . . . most of the time. She told me that the curse had passed from mother to daughter, and she now carried it. In that second, that very second, I knew.”