Myths of Immortality (The Sphinx Book 3)

by Wagner, Raye

  He straightened and faced his wife and daughter.

  Hope’s heart seemed to be breaking as she watched the pain wash over her parents.

  Looking up into Leto’s eyes he continued, “I knew what you were going to say, but I prayed I was wrong. I wanted so much to be wrong in that moment. But then you said the words. As soon as you admitted to being the Sphinx, I felt so much shame. It was my father that cursed you. My own father. I knew he wasn’t perfect, far from it. He is emotional, rash, and dismissive. But there is one thing I’ve seen him totally fanatical about, and it’s consistent.”

  Luc raised his hand and pointed at Hope. “He is fanatical about his ownership of the monster he created. You are the one creature he considers wholly his, and he is determined to possess you. The entire purpose of the curse is to break you to his will. He will stop at nothing . . . absolutely nothing.”

  He swallowed. “I was too weak, or too naïve, to fully comprehend what that meant. I kissed your mother and offered false platitudes that we would be fine. That it was okay. But my words were in earnest. I never meant to be untrue. And every assurance of my love was sincere and heartfelt. I did, I do, love her.” He stared up at Leto with wide eyes. “I love you.”

  Hope was still trying to reconcile the story her father was telling with what she’d believed her entire life. Not that she didn’t believe him, but if he loved Leto so much . . . “So what happened? Why did you leave?”

  Luc stood and resumed his pacing. “She told me she was going to change at first light, said I could leave if I wanted to. As if I would abandon her so easily.” He pointed at Hope. “Which is probably why you believed me to be so callous. And I’d be lying now if I didn’t admit I was scared. There was no way to hide what I’d done, and I didn’t want to. But I also knew my father would find out, and I’d need to explain what had happened. At some point I would have to face him. But as I held your mother in my arms, I knew with every fiber of my being, I couldn’t let her go. And I would do whatever was necessary to keep her safe, even if it meant defying my father.”

  Hope had never really understood the term watching a train wreck happen until that moment. She knew where this was going, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything to stop it.

  The air shifted, and the faint smell of pomegranates tickled Athan’s senses. The murmur of voices grew distinct as the tinnitus from their translocation faded.

  “Is not this agreeable, Lord?”

  Athan knew that rasping voice. His eyes flew open, and he stared across the throne room, his vision tunneling on the Skia that had killed his girlfriend almost a decade ago.

  Darren stood at the bottom of a dais of three steps, his back to Athan. Torches hung in twisted iron holders spaced throughout the cavernous room, casting the space in ominous shadows. Hades occupied an obsidian throne at the top of the platform, and positioned next to him was an intricately carved throne of a deep red crystal, the color of pomegranates.

  Hades’s features were a study of contrasts. His hair was cropped just shy of chin-length, and the smooth dark locks shone like polished onyx. His goatee was trimmed short, and the depth of color made the pallor of his skin distinct. His angular features and broad shoulders created an imposing picture.

  “Do you believe she is here?” the lord of the Underworld asked. “I have heard whisperings of it, but my Skia have not been able to locate her.”

  “Nay, Lord. The Sphinx is just—”

  Athan’s movement at the mention of Hope was inadvertent, and Xan grabbed his sleeve too late.

  Darren turned even as Hades’s gaze shifted to the two demigods that stood in the shadows.

  “Demigods?” Hades stood in a fluid movement.

  Darren’s eyes narrowed and then widened in recognition. He grasped at his beltline. There was no time to think. Athan reached for his blades, but Xan was faster. Athan was thrown to the ground as an inky Skia blade whistled past them. Hades yelled a command that was muffled by Xan’s heavy body.

  The tension in the room continued to rise, and Athan pushed against Xan’s weight. Had Xan been hit? Was Darren still alive?

  Xan rolled to his feet, stood, and extended his hand to Athan. He didn’t even have to look to see if he’d hit his target. Irritation pulsed through Athan’s heart.

  “Skata,” he muttered as he brushed away Xan’s hand and looked across the room.

  Darren clutched the hilt of the silver dagger protruding from his chest. A perfect throw, the blade was buried to its rubied hilt. Darren opened his mouth to scream, but blinding sunshine poured from his dark depths. The Skia begged his lord with his eyes, pleaded for intervention. The rays seeped from the edges of his wound.

  Hades’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing as his servant disappeared, crumbling from within from the exposure to the divine light.

  The silver blade clinked on the stone.

  Xan gave Athan a once-over. “You all right?”

  Athan snorted his disgust. As if he would need to be taken care of.

  “My Lord.” Athan bowed to the god.

  Xan inclined his head. “Lord Hades.”

  Hades stepped down from the dais. His fluid movements were like a predator stalking his prey.

  “Son of Ares.” The god of the Underworld pushed Athan away from Xan and continued to circle the demigod. “You do not belong here.”

  Xan said nothing, keeping his head down. The muscles in his neck tightened and strained against an unseen force of tension.

  “And you, Son of Hermes.” Hades turned his gaze to Athan. “I have always treated you well as a guest, have I not?”

  Athan nodded. It was true. The god had always been gracious when Athan had been in the Underworld with Hermes.

  “And yet you bring death to my world?” Hades held up his hand before Athan could protest. “Do you know the sacrifices Skia make? Do you understand the necessity of their service?” The god tapped on his chin as if contemplating what more to tell them. “You are young and impetuous, demigods. You would benefit from some depth of understanding.” He waved his hand in a clear dismissal.

  Athan felt the floor yanked out from under him.

  Cold, like the blade of a Skia, blistered his skin. Athan shook with the sudden change in temperature. The icy air swirled around him in tortuous ribbons of pain. He needed to see if he could get out of the trajectory of the bitter wind. He stepped back and fell over a large boulder.

  The boulder grunted.

  Athan blinked, trying to force his eyes to stay opened. In truth, he wanted to curl in on himself to avoid the abuse the air was delivering.

  “Shite. Where the Hades are we?”

  Oh. The talking boulder was Xan. Athan crouched down next to the other demigod.

  “Are you all right?” Athan yelled, but the words were swallowed in the maelstrom.

  Xan tilted his head to the side and cracked an eye, gaze settling on Athan, and motioned for him to huddle close.

  Athan lifted his shoulder in silent question. What good would it do to coil up here? But even as he thought it, the wind continued buffeting him. It was much like sparring multiple attackers at once, and there was no way to avoid the blows. He strained to find a way to escape, but eventually his natural instinct took over and he curled into the fetal position on the ground.

  Tortured screams assailed him, the sounds grating against his sanity. The physical pain intensified, and despair pounded in his heart. They would never escape. They would die here. It had all been a waste. He wasn’t strong enough to rescue Hope. He wasn’t strong enough to save Dahlia. He wasn’t there to keep Isa home. He couldn’t save his mom. He was worthless, and now he was going to die in this hell. The worst thing was, he knew he deserved it. Despair filled him, and he wished for death.

  “Enough.” The feminine voice was soft, barely over a whisper, but the accent of the divine cut through the tumult.

  The wind stilled. The overwhelming emotions evaporated, and three young women sat cross-le
gged on the dark stone.

  Athan unwound his body, stretching his stiff muscles.

  Xan eyed the women warily, his hand resting on the hilt of his remaining dagger.

  They had not changed. The three girls looked nothing like sisters with their different skin tones, hair color, and even facial features. Atropos wore modern clothing befitting a military assassin today, only shears of varying colors and lengths hung from her utility belt, the only weapons she would ever need. Her skin was ebony, and her pointed features matched her purpose. The Fate responsible for cutting the thread of life offered a knowing smirk, and Athan turned away.

  Lachesis laughed and almost dropped her measuring instrument. The long rod was covered in markings running the length of it. The goddess who measured the life of man had warm russet skin, the same color as her eyes.

  “Don’t scare him, Atropos.” Her thick auburn curls swayed with her laughter.

  The air warmed, and the only sound was the clacking of Clotho’s eternal needles.

  “He’s one of the good guys.” Lachesis held up her measuring stick as if to indicate he measured up. “They both are.”

  Xan snorted.

  Had Xan lost his mind? Athan wanted to warn him, but there was no way to do so without the goddess knowing it. Perhaps they would not find him rude.

  Atropos laughed, and when she spoke, the bitterness had disappeared from her tone. “Regardless of how good they are, they are all we have to work with.”

  “You are too eager to cut betimes.” Even with the reprimand, Clotho continued her knitting.

  Atropos inclined her head. “Perhaps.” She regarded Xan with interest. “Perhaps not.”

  Xan narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to kill us then?” His lip curled in a sneer of disgust. “I think not, or you would’ve done so already. Are you trying to break us?”

  “Enough,” Clotho said in the same soft tone. Her head tilted up, and her blue eyes gazed at them as she set her needles aside. “We are not your enemies, Son of Ares.”

  Xan rolled his eyes. Athan well understood his sentiment. The gods were no one’s friends either.

  Clotho touched his knee. “The gods have been unjust to her, and this must stop. You must stop it here. Even now . . .” She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her dainty nose. “Even now they are working to thwart her.”

  Xan scrambled up and drew his blade. “Where?”

  Athan’s focus remained on the youthful-appearing goddess before him. Her golden hair fell in soft waves well past her shoulders, but her worn dress was a testament to how infrequently she took a break from her knitting. Her unlined skin couldn’t hide the depth of wisdom in her eyes.

  He’d read most of the Book of the Fates regarding the Sphinx. He knew they’d intervened to help Phaidra after Apollo’s curse.

  “Why? Why are you doing this?”

  Clotho blinked. “Not all gods are motivated by self-interest. Some have a spark of justice within.” She picked up her needles. “You’d better hurry. Your fate is unfolding.”

  Atropos glared at her sister. “You told them too much.”

  “Oh, stop. You forget our interest is in their success.” The clacking of needles commenced.

  Lachesis helped Clotho stand, and Atropos followed.

  “You’re out of Tartarus now, and when you step from our protection, you’ll need to cross Persephone’s garden to enter the palace.” Lachesis exhaled slowly as her gaze measured them. “Your worth is more than one decision; it is the grand sum.”

  “Bullocks,” Xan muttered.

  Athan glared at him. They did not want to offend the Fates.

  But Atropos laughed again, and her sharp features softened. “I like you, Son of Ares. You’re brash but honest.” She pulled a small set of embroidery shears from her waist. The handles were a milky white with silver veins that matched the blades. She handed them to him. “Be very careful how you use them.”

  The small pair of scissors disappeared in his palm. He raised his brow and tucked the pointed end into his empty sheath. “Aye. Best not nick my finger on them, too, right?”

  Atropos smirked. “You’re welcome.”

  Luc paced the small room, his anxious energy diffusing into the very air. The pain he’d suffered still clung to him, and he grimaced as he relived his story.

  These memories were still so fresh in his mind, and Hope felt nothing but pity for the man before her. Her rash statement at the banks of the Lethe seemed ignorant in the face of her father’s anguish. She watched him cross, back and forth, while he sorted through the words of his final account.

  Luc stopped and faced Hope. “I asked Leto what time she would change, mentally trying to prepare myself for what was coming. But when I looked at her, I saw how scared she was. She was curled in a ball on the sofa, and her body language screamed her fear. I needed to do something to make it right. Something to show her how much I loved her.”

  “I decided to go get all of her favorite things, just a quick trip to the grocery store. If we were going to be stuck inside for two days, we should have an indoor picnic, play board games, and watch movies. I was determined to make her experience of telling me her secret not just good, but great. I didn’t want her to feel unsure, but mostly, I wanted to make it right.”

  “I figured I could stop by the conservatory and talk to my friend, Xan. He was the senior demigod at the time, and while he was brash, he had a good heart. He was older than any other demigod I knew, so I was hoping . . .”

  Hope smiled at the mention of her friend, and she felt a new sense of connection to her father.

  Luc shook his head. “There was so much I didn’t know, and I was hoping he’d have some insight. I needed to tell Leto my secret, and it felt impossible to broach the subject what with the part my father played in her curse. And there was the matter of my father, too.” His shoulders sagged with the weight of his burden, but he pressed on. “Anyway, I promised to pick up movies and treats and something for dinner. When I hugged her goodbye, my heart pounded as if it would beat its way from my chest. I was that nervous. But I kissed her and told her how much I loved her. And then I left.”

  “It was late enough that I went straight to the conservatory. But Xan was gone. There were only two demigods in residence, a mere child and a bitter daughter of Eris. But I was desperate for help. I asked if they would listen, and both were willing, so, keeping it as vague as possible, I told them of my situation. It’s funny, I thought the child would hold more prejudice to monsters, but it was the older demigod who dismissed my worry with a wave of her hand. She repeated rhetoric about monsters not being fit to live, words all the demigods said. She stressed that Xan would tell me the same thing, and I feared she might be right.”

  “But then the little boy spoke. He told me not to listen to her, that she was just sad because her husband had left her. Gods, he was so little but talked just like a grown up. A smart grown up. Dahlia, the other demigod, yelled at him then left, but the boy stared at me with his wide eyes and asked me if I really loved the girl who was a monster. I assured him I did. I’ll never forget what he said. Dads are supposed to take care of their kids . He was so cute and naïve, but that didn’t make what he said less true. Fathers are supposed to take care of their kids, and want what’s best for them. He said I should talk to my dad. And that love means you make it work, and always tell the truth.”

  Luc closed his eyes, and Hope wondered what memories were there that he wasn’t sharing.

  “I dismissed myself and thanked the young demigod for his time. Gods, I hope he’s okay. He was such a good boy. I told him to tell Xan that I said to take him under his wing. I’m not sure that was any help, but it was the best I could think of at the time to thank the little guy for his help.”

  “There was never going to be a good time to confront my father, but as I drove away from the conservatory, I decided that if I approached him that very day, he wouldn’t be able to accuse me of hiding anything from him. I
drove to a small outdoor temple on the outskirts of the city, a lovely park with lilies, laurels, and hyacinth. I hadn’t spoken face-to-face with my father for years. In truth, he only came to me when he wanted me to do something for him, so I wasn’t expecting him to answer my petition.”

  “I made an offering at the shrine, and there was a moment when I worried he might actually appear, but the birds’ songs and crickets chirping were the only sounds. I told the shrine how I met Leto, a bit about our brief courtship, and finally the whirlwind wedding. I begged forgiveness for not inviting him to the nuptials. I told him of my wife’s kindness and patience, of her soft temperament. I was stalling, but I didn’t know how to say it. I begged for forgiveness; I pled my ignorance and unintentional offence. The one thing I would not apologize for was my love for her. I asked for his blessing, and then I climbed the shrine and whispered in his ear her name. I waited for the roof to crash down on me, and when it didn’t, I gathered my courage and whispered that Leto was the Sphinx.”

  “Nothing happened. My panic drained, and with it most of my energy. I told myself that maybe my father wouldn’t be angry. Maybe he would give us his blessing. I left and went to the grocery store, the one on Mercer Island where I’d first met Leto. It was on the way home, and I was feeling nostalgic.”

  “I filled the shopping cart with all of her favorites: movie candy, popcorn, chips, soda, steak and potatoes, and several kinds of ice cream. As I wheeled the cart to the check out, I grabbed a bouquet of flowers, something a little extra to reinforce my words. I thought I’d have two whole days to show Leto how much I loved her, regardless of her form, or more accurately, regardless of Apollo’s curse. More than anything, I wanted her to know that I was first and foremost the man who loved her.”

  “I paid for the groceries and walked out to the parking lot. The sun had just set; I remember the evening sky was tinged with pinks and lavenders like the flowers I’d just bought.” Luc swallowed then rubbed at his eyes. After a deep breath, he continued, “I felt his presence before I could see him.”