Myths of Immortality (The Sphinx Book 3)

by Wagner, Raye

  It was obvious he was put out by his confinement, but Hope brushed aside his complaint. His purported theory was preposterous. “Are you saying Hera had you bound because she didn’t want anyone to know about her and Damon having a baby?”

  Hades raised his eyebrows. “You know his name?”

  “It’s in my Book .”

  Hades licked his lips. “You have it? You have your Book of the Fates ?”

  Hope’s heart was beating like she’d run a marathon. “Yes. It’s still in . . .” Her intuition stopped her words. He was fishing for information. “Why?”

  Persephone squeezed her side. “He wants you to expose Hera and see if you can break the binding. It’s probably the Fates that have been affected the most. And their Books are all here, except for the one you have, instead of in the Olympian Library like they used to be.”

  The pieces were coming together. “Hera had all the Books of the Fates and gods bound to try and hide the evidence of her infidelity? Does anyone even care?”

  She knew the goddess of matrimony was fanatical about faithfulness. Myths of her vengeance were still taught in school.

  “You want me to take my Book up there and ask that the binding be loosened?”

  He nodded, but the movement brought no reassurance. Hope bit the side of her mouth.

  “You would be doing a service for everyone,” Hades stated.

  She stared at the god as if he’d just declared the entire world free from evil. Hope shook her head. He was getting something out of it, not that she even wanted to know what it was. The less she knew, the better. “Don’t try to pretend you’re being magnanimous.”

  He steepled his fingers. “Perhaps there is a service I could do for you.”

  It was the opening she’d been waiting for. “Indeed. I will consider your request, but I would have you consider mine as well. I want you to let Priska return to the mortal realm.”

  He leaned forward. “Really? This is your request?”

  Persephone cleared her throat, and Hope felt like she was being outmaneuvered in a game where she didn’t even know the rules.

  “Why don’t you both think about it and let Hope get a little more rest, hmm?” Persephone didn’t wait for her husband to finish and guided Hope from the room.

  As soon as they were out the doors, whatever adrenaline keeping Hope upright drained from her body, and she sagged into Persephone. The goddess said nothing as she helped Hope into her room and into bed.

  “Don’t forget where you are and how you got here,” Persephone warned Hope.

  “Lord Hades and Lady Persephone have requested your presence in the throne room. They also require the son of Hermes to attend.”

  “We will be there shortly.” Xan’s voice floated down the hall and into the bedroom.

  Athan rolled off the bed as the door clicked shut.

  “Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Xan teased, and then he made a face. “You stink. Take a shower before we go.”

  Stretching his taut muscles, Athan wished for a long, empty stretch of road and a long run to pound the tension away.

  “Oh, and our backpacks appeared last night with a change of clothes. Have a bite to eat afore we go; there are bars and bottled water in there, too.”

  Next to the blue canvas bag was a change of clothes, all the way down to clean boxer briefs. Athan shaved the scruff from his cheeks, eating several protein bars through the process. He showered and brushed his teeth with the bottled water, and then went back to his bedroom to get dressed.

  Laying atop his clothes were his jeweled immortal daggers.

  “Who did you say brought our stuff?” he yelled over the noise in the bathroom.

  “I can’t hear you!” Xan yelled back.

  It didn’t matter. It was here, and Athan wasn’t about to turn away anyone’s aid. In less than thirty minutes, he slid the daggers into the sheaths in his belt. “I’m ready to go.”

  His hair still dripping, Xan emerged from the other bedroom, wrapped in a towel and holding his daggers. “Both of mine are here.”

  Athan nodded. “Who brought the packs?”

  Xan furrowed his brow. “That servant girl. Immy. Gen. Imogen. Said she was told to deliver them.” He tilted his head. “Do you feel like we’re pawns?”

  Athan refused to believe it. More than that, he refused to be a pawn. “Let’s get Hope and get out of here. She can recover her memory elsewhere.”

  Xan buttoned his cargo shorts and pulled on a blue T-shirt. “You know it’s not going to be that easy, right?” He brushed by Athan and opened a bag of trail mix. “When we get back, you owe me dinner.”

  The words made Athan smile. It was reminiscent of when they’d been friends and constantly teased each other about who owed whom. “Right.”

  Xan slung his pack over his shoulder. “Let’s go rescue the princess from the evil god of death.”

  He opened the door, and the willowy Imogen stood in the hall. “Are you ready?”

  Xan snorted in disgust. “Are you a lapdog for every god here?”

  Her pale skin blanched to almost translucent, and her freckles stood out like spots on a leopard. “You’re an ass.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she clamped her hands over her lips.

  Xan smiled, but Athan laughed out loud.

  “Truer words have never been spoken,” Xan murmured.

  Imogen blushed scarlet and said nothing as she led them down the hall.

  Xan jabbed Athan with an elbow, but there was no pain with the ribbing.

  The fire reflected off the stone, making the dark walls glitter. The air was heavy as if the very space was weighted with tension.

  Imogen said nothing as she pushed open the door to the throne room. She bowed to the monarchs of the Underworld and flinched when Hades called her name.

  “I would have you stay,” he instructed her.

  She shot a wary glance at the two demigods but nodded her assent.

  Hades’s face was set with grim determination as the door banged open.

  “What is the meaning of this, Hades? You have no right to . . .” Thanatos entered the large space flanked by two Skia. He froze as he took in the room.

  “Thanatos,” Hades warned.

  But the god of death would not go quietly. With a flick of his wrist, Skia appeared, their pale skin and dark hair reflective of the gods they served.

  Four harbingers of death circled Athan and Xan, black blades drawn.

  Xan laughed as he drew his immortal blades. “If this is the best you’ve got,” he sneered, “it’s not much more than a game.”

  He threw his two blades, and the Skia vaporized. Xan stepped forward to retrieve his blades, and two more creatures materialized.

  Athan dodged the first blade and charged the Skia that had thrown it. He collided with the solid being and drove his blade deep into the monster’s chest. He yanked it out in time to slice the arm of another.

  Xan punched one in the groin as he dropped to his knees. He grabbed his blade, sinking it into the Skia’s leg and then abdomen.

  “Call them off,” he yelled as he dodged another blade.

  What was the meaning of this? But there was no time to process the mayhem surrounding them as Skia after Skia appeared, only to be dispatched by one of their blades. After killing yet another one of the creatures, Athan realized how easy it was. These monsters were nothing like Darren, or most of the other Skia he had fought in the mortal realm. These were slower, clumsier, untrained.

  Why was Hades still sitting on his throne, doing nothing?

  Athan dodged another dark knife and sliced his blade across the Skia’s chest. “It’s a distraction!” But from what?

  “Halt!” Hades yelled. He stood, and the room froze. The air pulsed with his power as he surveyed the occupants. “This is beneath you, Thanatos.”

  Hades threw his arms out, and the Skia dropped. Every single one of them. Their bodies lay on the stone floor, their limbs contorted at odd angles, their obsidian eyes
glassy and empty.

  Thanatos stood with a blade at Imogen’s throat. “If you move, she will die.”

  Hades locked his gaze on the other god. “That is not your place to decide.” The lord of the Underworld pinched his fingers together. “Good luck, Imogen.”

  She swallowed and then braced as if for a physical blow.

  “Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I would make a move without sufficient support? Do you think I don’t know what she is?”

  Hades released his fingers, and his power washed over the room and every occupant in it.

  Imogen slumped in Thanatos’s arms, and then her body was gone and only the slip of her dress remained.

  “Your power is what I let it be, God of Death.”

  Thanatos’s eyes bulged, and he struggled against an unseen force.

  Hades crossed the room, stepping over the Skias’ bodies. As he passed, each body crumbled into a dark dust, blending into the black rock beneath. He stood in front of Thanatos, hand clamping around the god’s throat.

  “You would defy me, here in my own realm? You know the consequence of insubordination.”

  Thanatos mouthed his fear, a silent plea.

  A piercing scream shattered the silence of the room. The noise built, and then a second scream joined the first.

  Athan shuddered.

  This was the sound of Tartarus. A third voice, a wail of loss and sorrow, joined the cacophony.

  The air swirled around their feet, picking up the dust of the dead Skia, building from a breeze to a dust storm, to a whirlwind.

  The force buffeted him, and Athan curled in on himself as he’d done before, covering his ears with his hands to provide a barrier to the noise and tucking his head with his eyes closed. The seconds passed, and his heart pounded with the promise of a painful death. Death singed his exposed skin, like rapid-fire insect bites stinging and burning on his neck, arms, and ears.

  “Oh, stop.” Persephone’s voice was as clear as a bell despite the raging noise.

  The air stilled, and silence descended like a blanket.

  Athan’s ears rang, and he allowed himself to blink to see if the dust had also settled.

  His blurred vision made it seem as if three identical women stood by Hades. Athan blinked again, but the multiple images remained.

  “Sisters.” Persephone stepped off the dais and glided to the three women. Their hair hung in thick waves the color of ash, charcoal, and fire, and it writhed as if the wind still teased through it, almost serpent-like. Their skin was the same pallor as the other gods of the Underworld, but their lips were the color of blood. Their slight frames bordered on emaciated, and their chitons were plain and thick.

  It was then Athan realized they were three separate women, although identical in appearance, even in dress.

  Persephone embraced each of them, kissing them on the cheek. “Thank you for coming.”

  Xan had uncurled but continued to squat low to the ground. He had a wary look on his face, and his gaze was glued to the triplets.

  Thanatos shook, his mouth working faster to form words that had no sound.

  Xan’s face flashed with fear, but he schooled his features as if he were staring down death.

  “Alecto. Megaera. Tisiphone.” Hades nodded to each of the primordial goddesses.

  These were the Furies responsible for the torture in Tartarus.

  “There they are.” One of the goddesses looked at Athan and Xan, and her sisters’ gazes followed. “We’d wondered where you’d gone.” She turned to Hades. “Did you know Clo and her sisters took them out of Tartarus?”

  Hades raised his brows at Athan. “Really?”

  “Yes. It seems there is more than one god pushing for change, hmm?”

  The voices were different. The second girl had a deeper voice, her tone less nasal.

  “Shall we take them again?” The third one lit up with excitement. “We can take them now, if you will.”

  Athan understood what she was really saying—if you will let us. It was enough to get him to his feet.

  “No,” Hades said. “The demigods will stay.”

  The Furies raised their brows in identical question.

  “Thanatos will be spending some time with you.”

  Horror washed over the god of death’s face. Thanatos looked around the room as if waiting for aid. As if willing it to happen would make it so. Hecate had told Athan she would not help, and whomever else Thanatos solicited had also abandoned him.

  The door opened and the Fates walked through, Atropos guiding Clotho by the elbow.

  “You requested an audience, Hades?” Lachesis asked. Her gaze travelled the room, settling on the Lord of the Underworld.

  The Fates were not here to help the god of death. There was no one. Defeat settled slowly, and Thanatos’s shoulders fell.

  The smell of char grew with the proximity of the Furies.

  “Sisters.” The nasally one greeted the Fates with a small nod. Her eyes gleamed with excitement, and she asked, “Shall we take him now?”

  Hades stared at the god of death. “Say hello to my father if you see him, will you?”

  Hades nodded to the three Fates, and Lachesis pulled the end of an ashen gray thread from her messenger bag. She measured the length of it on her stick as she pulled several meters out, the strand puddling on the rocky ground. Atropos pulled a pair of shears with dusky crystal handles from her belt and snipped the thread.

  Thanatos gasped and brought his hand to his chest.

  Atropos took the cut end to Clotho. “Weave and bind.”

  As Clotho’s needles clicked against each other, a black thread joined the gray.

  As if on cue, the Furies opened their mouths and intoned, “We are jealous rage, vengeful destruction, and we are endless.”

  A distant wailing was a portent of what was to come. Bitter wind blew in from the open door, shrieking over the rocky walls as it swirled and thrashed in a buffeting pattern of abuse. Athan closed his eyes and ducked his head in anticipation of the pain. Two blasts battered by him, getting stronger each time, and he braced for more. An ear-splitting cry built into a painful crescendo.

  The third pass of air was like the coil of a snake, and he was knocked to his side. The pressure squeezed the air from his lungs, and bright stars burst across the blackness behind his eyelids. He couldn’t . . . breathe.

  “You really should speak to them about their manners,” Persephone said.

  His head throbbed, and Athan opened his eyes, grateful for the dim lighting of the Underworld.

  “As if they would listen to me,” Hades replied.

  The thrones were empty, and Hades and Persephone sat on the steps of the dais. Persephone was holding Hades’s hand, her fingers tracing the lines on his palms.

  “Even so, you could command them and then they’d have to listen.” She batted her eyes at him. “I just hate the noise, not to mention the mess they leave.”

  She waved her arm, and Athan followed the trajectory.

  The remaining Skia bodies were all in one corner. The primordial goddesses were gone, as was Thanatos.

  Two young women, in gowns much like Imogen had worn, were sweeping the floor.

  “Are you both awake?” Persephone asked, her gaze going from Xan to meet Athan’s. “Excellent.”

  Xan was shifting from a fetal position to sitting. He rotated his neck and then twisted his back side to side.

  “Remind me to never end up in Tartarus,” he said as he stood.

  Athan rolled his eyes.

  “Can we go see Hope?” he asked. If he could see her, it would remind him of why all of this was okay.

  “She should be awake soon, I think,” Persephone said, glancing at her husband.

  “How is her memory?” Xan asked.

  “Improving.”

  “I think it would improve much better in the mortal realm,” Xan muttered.

  Athan agreed. The Underworld was no place for the living. Whatever she�
�d learned, she’d eventually remember, and then they could break the curse. “When can we leave?”

  Hades stood. He slowly descended the dais like he was measuring each of his steps. At the bottom of the stairs he waved his hand toward each of the demigods. “You may leave at any time. Neither of you are bound to this realm.”

  Xan smiled and shifted as if to run out the door, but paused as he caught Athan’s frown.

  “What about Hope?” Athan asked.

  “There are rules. Rules keep order.” Hades frowned. “I am not like my siblings.”

  Xan opened his mouth as if to protest, but the words died on his lips. He stared at Athan as understanding dawned on his shocked features.

  “The Lethe,” Athan said.

  Their victory over Thanatos was completely empty . . . and worthless.

  Noise awoke her, voices arguing and the clanking of metal and stone. It felt as if she’d only been asleep for a few minutes. Her body ached, like she’d worked out with Xan for too long. But she felt more like herself. Her mind wasn’t as cloudy, but she felt like there was something she was supposed to remember but couldn’t.

  “Hope!”

  She sat up and rubbed her eyes. A young woman with dark hair sat on her bed. Everything about her was angular and sharp, even her voice.

  “You sleep like the dead.”

  Especially her voice.

  She wore a strap of leather across her chest, with several pairs of pinking shears, and a belt with various sizes of scissors. There were some with odd markings, others with jeweled grips. Some with thick long blades, and others with short pointed tips. The girl’s dark hair was cut in an angled bob, coming to points at her sharp chin. Dressed in a fitted dark-navy chiton with slits up to her thighs, the goddess leaned toward Hope.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  Hope swallowed her panic. “I thought you were supposed to appear with your sisters.”

  Atropos pursed her lips and inclined her head. “I’m only here to deliver a message. You have to go to Olympus next, so don’t argue about that. Second, and most important, be sure to include everyone that has sacrificed their immortality to Hades on your behalf when you make your bargain with the Lord of the Underworld, or you’ll have bigger regrets than Priska’s death.”