Myths of Immortality (The Sphinx Book 3)

by Wagner, Raye

  It was disturbing how that made sense. “But Hope is a monster.”

  “And as such is immune to the Skia.”

  That couldn’t be . . . Why would Darren attack her? There was a piece Athan was missing. Something didn’t make sense.

  The door opened, and Xan strode through. “Bloody hell. What is wrong with Perseph—?” He swallowed whatever he’d been about to say. “Ah, I mean, your wife sure knows how to take charge of a situation, Lord.”

  Hades smiled, his eyes filled with joy at the mention of his wife. It was the first smile from the god that held any warmth. “That she does.”

  Athan worried over Hades’s words. With a nod to Xan, Athan turned back to the god. “Why would Skia attack Hope?”

  Hades frowned as if the idea was ridiculous. “There’s no reason for them to attack her. They would’ve been trying to get her here.”

  One had attacked her. Multiple times. “But Darren tried to cut her throat. I saw—”

  His dark eyes flashed murder, and he stared Athan down. “Are you quite sure it was Darren?”

  Athan nodded.

  Hades stood and threw the crystal tumbler against the wall with a curse. Crystal fragments ricocheted across the floor.

  “Both my first and my second,” Hades muttered. With a thunderous yell, he picked up the crystal tray and its contents, and they followed the first glass to oblivion.

  Hope was lying on animal fur, but the ground wasn’t particularly soft. By deductive reasoning, the animal was definitely not alive, and somehow that made Hope want to relish the softness and warmth. It would be delightful to take a nap, if only these people would leave her alone.

  “You must clear as much water as you can,” another voice said. A woman’s voice, although she sounded really young.

  More pressure, this time from both her back and chest. She wanted to tell them to stop. To let her be. Didn’t they know how tired she was?

  Her eyes fluttered open, and a strange face with blue eyes looked up at her. Whoa, he looked pissed.

  The man swore again, and she tried to wave away his worry. She was fine. Just a little tired.

  There was a girl there, too. With copper curls, a tall, willowy apparition of beauty.

  They were talking about her, but their voices babbled and broke like the sound of water. And it was too difficult to focus on the words. They sounded worried, and she wanted to tell them whatever it was, it would be okay. But first, she was going to rest her eyes.

  It was dark, the air thick as pitch, and she tried to push her way through. There was something there that she needed to get to, and she knew she cared a lot, but every move was just so difficult. Still, she wasn’t a quitter.

  She was at the park with her mom again, and this time she saw the little girl sitting on the park bench, swinging her legs. She saw her mom scoop her up into her arms and run as a man chased them. Her whole life was hiding. And she’d hated it.

  Hope stirred and her senses assaulted her. She wasn’t on the fur anymore. It was far too soft, and the air smelled of lavender. Her eyes were too heavy, and try as she might, she couldn’t lift them.

  “I know he wants her to wake up, but she isn’t ready yet . . .”

  The voice faded, and Hope snuggled into the comfort of darkness. Her mom would be there when she woke up, like she’d always been. And they would move, her mom’s persistent attempt to find safety, like they always had.

  “Mother Gaia!” Persephone burst into the throne room. Her gaze went from her husband to the two demigods, and finally to the particulate matter that was once a bar service. “Stop this at once.” With a wave of her hand, the shards of crystal disappeared.

  Athan’s heart jumped with anticipation. “Is Hope okay?”

  “Is she awake?”

  Xan asked his question at the same time, and Athan felt the increasingly familiar anger swell. But it wasn’t anger, not really, because anger was always something else at its core. He pushed away the introspective thoughts and focused on the queen of the Underworld.

  Persephone shook her head. “She is not awake, nor is she in any way okay. She is sleeping in oblivion, and the longer she stays there, the more she will forget.”

  “Can you not wake her?” Hades asked.

  Everything in Athan hinged on the answer to this, and he willed Persephone to make it so.

  “I cannot.” She frowned.

  Athan wanted to yell, but he clenched his fists and held his frustration inside.

  Xan did not. With an obscenity, he turned and punched the black rock behind him. His face was ravaged, and his fist dripped blood.

  Persephone grimaced. “I don’t need more work.”

  The tall redhead came through the door. “My Lord and Lady—”

  “Imogen, will you take the hothead here and bandage him up, please?” Persephone offered a weak smile as she indicated Xan.

  “Of course.” The thin girl bowed and waited for Xan to join her.

  “Not happening, Ginger. It will heal up fine in a bit.” Xan shooed her away.

  “But—” Imogen’s gaze flitted to Persephone.

  Persephone closed her eyes. “Never mind. Thank you, Imogen. That will be all.”

  Imogen shot Xan a glare, the first real expression Athan had seen from her, but it was gone as she glided from the throne room.

  “How do we wake her?” Xan asked.

  Persephone looked back and forth between the two young men. “It must be a strong memory. Something with a lot of feeling or emotion. A big success, her first kiss, or her mother’s voice, although this may be traumatic as she is dead, correct?”

  Xan looked at Athan, and Athan looked at Xan.

  “Is her mother dead?” Persephone asked again.

  “It wasn’t that long ago, right?” Xan asked.

  Athan shook his head.

  “Were you her first?” Xan choked on the words.

  Persephone turned to Athan. “Are you her first kiss?”

  Was he? Had she told him that? “I . . . I think so.”

  “If he kisses her, will it wake her?” Xan clenched his hands, his face stricken with emotion.

  It was like out of a fairy tale.

  “It might,” Persephone acknowledged, “if the memory is strong enough. If there is enough emotion behind it.”

  “Will she get her memories back?” Athan asked.

  “Perhaps. The longer she sleeps, the more she will forget.”

  Xan grabbed Athan’s arm and started for the door. “Right now.”

  Persephone crossed in front of them and then led the way.

  “We’re not finished, Son of Hermes,” Hades intoned, his deep voice a chilling promise. The god of the Underworld followed them out of the room and down the obsidian hall.

  The room was dark, with only a single candelabra lit in the corner. A plush bed occupied the middle of the room with a large fur rug underneath it. Hope lay atop the pale-blue comforter, her eyes closed.

  She’d been changed from her wet clothes and wore a loose white nightgown. Her golden hair was almost dry and fanned out on the pillow. Her lips were parted and her breathing slow and deep.

  Xan stopped inside the door. “Go,” he said and shoved Athan toward the bed.

  Athan took two steps and stopped. What if it didn’t work? What if she didn’t wake up? What if she didn’t remember him? What if she didn’t love him?

  “What are you waiting for?” Xan growled.

  Athan pushed down his fear even as it clawed at him. The what-ifs continued to bombard him, and he was paralyzed by the onslaught.

  A warm hand rested on his shoulder, and Xan looked him in the eye. “This isn’t about you. It’s about her. Please, go kiss her.”

  And in that moment, Athan knew he was right. This wasn’t about getting the girl, or getting anything. This was about Hope having a chance at life. A chance to break the curse and choose her own path. This was about Hope’s freedom.

  The surroundings seemed to
fade. His heart pulsed with feeling. This was for Hope. He sat on the edge of the bed and slid his hand behind her head, his fingers threading into her golden hair. He leaned over her, relishing her nearness. The heat of her body, the sweet smell of her skin. He thought of sunshine and freedom, friends and family, and what could be . . . if only.

  His lips brushed hers, and the sun burst beneath his eyelids. Warmth blossomed from his heart and spread outward, like melting honey. This. They could grow old together, have kids together. Defeat curses and raise kings. He’d never let himself believe he would find someone he loved more than Isabel, but Hope . . . he wanted her.

  “Athan?” she breathed.

  And then her arms were around him. Her strength pulling him closer. Her lips moving with him, telling him secrets, giving him strength.

  He wanted to cry with joy that she remembered.

  He pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. “Gods, Hope, I thought I’d lost you.”

  Her body relaxed, and her eyes closed. A sigh escaped her lips.

  Glowing with his triumph, he turned to Persephone only to see concern still stamped across the goddess’s face.

  Why was she—?

  Hope’s body twitched and twitched again. Then it started to shake violently, thrashing as if trying to escape invisible binds. Her mouth opened, and her body heaved. Liquid the color of crystals poured from her mouth, soaking his shirt, pants, and the bedding beneath him.

  Hope shivered, sat up, and scooted away from him.

  Her eyebrows drew down in a look he recognized with a sinking sensation.

  “Who are you?” she whispered, her voice raspy from vomiting. “Where’s my mom?” As soon as the question was out, her hand flew to her mouth. She covered one with the other. Her eyes filled with tears and skirted through the room. Her look morphed from confusion, to surprise, to fear. “Where’s Priska?”

  Athan stared at her, willing her to remember. “I’m Athan. We met in Goldendale after your mom passed away.”

  She nodded. “I remember moving to Goldendale.” She pointed to Xan and then Hades and Persephone. “Who are you guys?”

  Persephone stepped forward and introduced herself and her husband. “These young men came to rescue you here in the Underworld.”

  Hope’s lips formed an O. “Am I dead?”

  Hades cleared his throat. “No, my dear, you are not.”

  “And you?” Her chin jutted out in a look of sheer determination as her gaze fell again on Xan.

  He swallowed, but he seemed to choke on his words.

  “I know you, right?” When he didn’t answer, she closed her eyes. “It’s like I know you, but I can’t remember from where.”

  “Aye, lass. We met a bit ago, and we’re friends. I came to help Athan get you back.”

  She leaned forward and froze. “No. No, no, no! You!”

  Xan stepped away and held his hands up. “I’m not here to hurt you, Hope.”

  She scrambled back, until she was against the headboard. She continued to regard them warily. “Hades? Am I safe here?”

  Athan wondered what made her ask him, the god of the Underworld.

  “You are safe in this room, right now and as long as you stay here. I will not, nay, I cannot, promise your safety elsewhere.”

  She pursed her lips. “Then I want you all out, right now. Is that okay? Can I . . . May I have some time to myself?”

  Persephone shooed them out into the hall. “Hades, please wait for me,” she said and then shut them out.

  The lights were dim, and Persephone closed the door after pushing out the unwelcome visitors. The goddess wore a simple white dress that hung to the floor, the only adornment a golden belt that gathered the fabric at her tiny waist. She crossed the dark floor, almost as an apparition.

  “Are you starting to remember?” she asked. “Is the Lethe starting to recede?”

  Hope eyed Persephone warily, trying to put together pieces that made no sense. Hope had moved to Goldendale after her mother passed away. She remembered that. The boy who had been sitting on her bed, Athan, looked familiar. Something about him even felt familiar, and it was clear from his outburst that they knew each other.

  She remembered going to the grocery store in the small town, and there was a butcher she was friends with, but his name escaped her at the moment.

  Krista. Hope closed her eyes to hide the fact that she was rolling them. Mean girl number one. She concentrated on the town of Goldendale. Priska had gone to find out who had killed Leto.

  Hope scratched her head. It was like knowing the information was there, but she couldn’t access it. There was nothing else. And for some reason, she’d come to the Underworld alive. It made no sense.

  And why was that other guy there? She remembered him, he’d chased after Hope and her mom when Hope was a child. Leto had believed he would kill them, which meant he was a demigod. So then why was he here to help rescue her?

  She shook her head, not so much to clear it, but in an attempt to dislodge the information she wanted. “What happened?”

  Persephone sat on the edge of the bed. “There was an accident.”

  Hope shook her head again. That didn’t ring true. At all. “No. I fell. Or did I hit my head?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  Persephone’s gaze was intense, and Hope glanced down at her hands fidgeting with the duvet cover. “No.”

  The goddess stood. “We’re looking into it.” She tapped the edge of the bed. “I will have Imogen bring you a tray.”

  As if anticipating Hope’s protest, Persephone held up a hand. “It will be sealed and from above ground.”

  Hope scooted down in the bed. It was nicer than any bed she’d ever been in, and all she wanted to do was snuggle down and go to sleep. “Is it okay for me to sleep?”

  Persephone paused at the door. “Yes, but you’re going to want to eat and drink, too. I have a feeling you’ll be needing your strength.”

  Hope again struggled against the mental barrier that kept her memories from her, but something she’d learned in school nagged at her. “I thought you hated Hades. That you hated coming to the Underworld. He kidnapped you.”

  The goddess pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. After a deep breath, her gaze bored into Hope. “You can’t trust what the myths say. Of all people, you should know better.”

  Hope cringed. Persephone was right. Hope should know better. “I’m sorry. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  The goddess inclined her head and ducked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  The three of them stood out in the hall. Athan wondered how Hope had recognized Xan, and from where, but the other demigod studied the ground as he pulled his hand through his hair.

  Hades stared at Hope’s door as if he could see through it. Perhaps he could. The god visibly relaxed when Persephone joined them in the hall.

  “We will need to have a tray sent to her right away,” she said to her husband.

  “Of course, dear.”

  “I’ll have Imogen bring it to her.” Persephone offered a small smile to the demigods before kissing her husband, bidding him farewell, and disappearing.

  Hades pointed down the hall to an open doorway and then led them into a large room. The space had all the makings of a swanky hotel suite with a plush L-shaped couch in front of a widescreen television. There was a small kitchen, an open door to a restroom, and two other doors that Athan hoped led to bedrooms.

  Guilt stabbed at him, and he pushed his increasing fatigue away.

  “I will leave the two of you here for now. Sleep if you can, or eat, or whatever else you want to do. I have other business I must attend, but I’ll return shortly. If you ring this bell”—Hades was suddenly holding a silver bell in his pale, slender fingers—“Imogen will be happy to serve you.”

  Thinly veiled contempt dripped from the words, and Xan snorted.

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Athan said, shooting Xan a
look. The last thing they needed was Xan’s temper. “Thank you.”

  Hades exited the room, and the door clicked shut.

  They sat silent for a time. Athan’s thoughts swirled around Hope, his emotions vacillating from optimism to despair. “She recognized you.”

  Xan paled. “Not in a good way. She remembers me chasing her when she was a child.” He circled the couch and collapsed into the cushions, draping his arm over his eyes.

  Athan sunk into the overstuffed couch. “She doesn’t even remember me.”

  Xan sat up. “No? You do remember her breathing your name after you kissed her, right?”

  Wait. “Are you jealous?”

  There was no mirth in Xan’s dark chuckle. “Of course I’m jealous. But like I said, this isn’t about you or me. It’s about her.”

  He was right. “I don’t understand why she would go to the Lethe.” Xan’s gaze was so heavy, Athan squirmed under it. “I don’t.”

  “The last thing she saw before she ran to Thanatos . . .” Xan sat up.

  The last thing she’d seen was Athan kissing Isa. Oh, gods, it was his fault.

  Xan hopped over the back of the couch and grabbed the bell. “Prepare yourself for something quite dreadful. That Ginger girl is right mad.”

  He shook the bell and then sprinted to the door.

  Seconds later, the willowy girl appeared. Her pink lips were pushed up into a smile, but the skin around her eyes was tight with tension. “Yes, Son of Ares?”

  “Was-Thanatos-anywhere-near-the-river-Lethe-when-you-pulled-Hope-out?” His words were rushed, blending together with his heavy brogue and making them incomprehensible.

  She looked to Athan as if he could translate. Athan repeated the question slower, enunciating clearly so there was no way the girl could misunderstand.

  The girl’s pale blue eyes dilated with fear, and she stepped back into the wall. Without saying anything, she scooted along until she got to the door, and then she fled.

  Xan pointed at Athan. “I think that be a yes.”

  Athan nodded. “But why?”

  “Shite.” Xan picked up the silver bell again. He rang it over and over, and when no one came, he opened the door. Stepping out into the hall, he yelled, “Immy! Genny!”