Lexi walked toward the door. “Then I’ll go grab something from the kitchen. Any requests?”
She could make it appear here, but some habits must be hard to break. That, and if she was like the other gods, she wasn’t actually plucking things from midair; she had to take them from someplace else. Were the rules different here, since she was the realm? What did that make the food, then?
Actaeon didn’t want to tumble down that rabbit hole, and it hardly seemed relevant to the conversation. “We’ll go with you. Give Cerberus a tour along the way.”
“Sounds good to me. So does real food. What have you got?” Cerberus fell into step with them.
Lexi didn’t skip down the stairs like she had when they left on their quest. That was more normal as well, but it was also a little sad to see. “Cold cuts. Chips—chocolate and potato—”
“No bread or cheese, apparently,” Actaeon teased.
She shot him a withering look.
Okay, so they hadn’t moved past her irritation over the quest. Or he was getting hung up on it and needed to move on.
“You were a fighter before Cassandra died.” There was an edge to Lexi’s voice. “You stood up to Zeus, even though she begged you not to.”
“How do you know that?” He’d talked about Cassandra’s visions but never shared details about their relationship.
The kitchen was a stark contrast to the bar, but Actaeon expected that. Industrial stainless-steel counters and appliances. A restaurant-grade dishwasher. Two huge refrigerators.
Lexi opened one and started pulling out storage containers. “Lucky guess. It’s who you are. You wear this pathetic mask of indifference, but you’ve never turned your back on the mess we’re in. Or anything you’ve come up against since I met you.”
“You make for a good view.” Why was he brushing her off? She was paying him a compliment.
“You can’t help yourself.” Cerberus grabbed three plates from a stack on the counter. He opened one of the containers and started dishing out sliced ham. “Despite what Artemis said to you, it’s who you are. How many months did she pick away at your core, while you were miserable and lost, to get you to back off for even a couple of decades?”
Actaeon was losing the thread again. “Artemis didn’t... She wouldn’t... I still don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“Like mother, like son.” That was what Lexi said the first time she met the goddess.
Cerberus handed him a plate stacked with sliced meat, cheese, and olives. The hellhound leaned against a nearby counter and ate. “The gods forced all of the heroes to pick a side or be destroyed. That’s part of Enlightenment history. They’ve never hidden that.”
“They didn’t destroy me, because they couldn’t.” That was the point of drawing Actaeon to Las Vegas. “Heracles tried.”
Lexi sat on the counter, kicking her legs back and forth, only picking at the dinner she insisted they have. “So they took you out of the picture another way. Artemis convinced you fighting the establishment was futile.”
Actaeon couldn’t believe he was listening to this. “Why would she do that?” Motivation was the glaring hole in their theory.
“I don’t know,” Lexi said.
He tossed his plate aside, and it skidded across stainless steel before stopping. Olives rolled onto the floor. “This is ludicrous. I don’t know what kind of shared hallucinations—”
“Stop.” Lexi’s command rumbled through the floor. “I’m sorry you don’t want to hear or accept this, but don’t push it back on us. I know what I saw and heard down there.”
He was sick of this. The games. The denial. The way she’d had them chasing their tails. “You were correct about one thing, when it comes to you and me.” He looked at Lexi. “We fight. We fuck. I save your ass. Right now, I’m not doing any of the above, so you don’t need me here.”
“Now who’s throwing a tantrum?” she asked.
Actaeon wasn’t sulking or angry, but he was annoyed and tired.
Because she’s right?
Because she was drawing conclusions from a limited forty years of experience. Cerberus wasn’t much better. He’d been involved in post-Enlightenment politics from the fringes, observing as an outsider, because he served Hades at the time.
“Believe what you’d like.” Actaeon wasn’t going to argue in circles. “Artemis didn’t participate in some sort of farfetched conspiracy with Zeus and Poseidon years ago, to ensure you and I wouldn’t interfere now.”
“You and dozens of other heroes. Some Poseidon’s children. Anyone they thought they couldn’t get rid of otherwise.” Cerberus looked calm. He was almost done with his food.
“Give me a motive.” That was the one thing Actaeon didn’t see in this weird and wacky tale of theirs.
There was no response.
“Because they wanted to rule the world?” Now he was getting angry. “They have that. They’re not comic-book villains. This isn’t a stupid movie or a fucking game. Zeus is all ego, but he’s got what he wants. There’s no reason for him to squash the little bugs because they annoy him.”
Lexi hopped to her feet and stepped in front of him. “Then help us figure out what their motive was,” she said.
Actaeon turned away. “I’m sick of this. Icarus is waiting for us on earth. Hermes confirmed that. We found Cerberus. I’m going back to Styx, to go home. You can stay here and keep questing, or you can come with me.”
“Why are you convinced what she saw in the past isn’t real?” Cerberus asked.
“I’m not saying it was fake, but the interpretation doesn’t make sense. You’re going along with it because you’re a loyal fucking lapdog.” He winced at the insult. He shouldn’t have fallen back on that.
“Again with this? Really?” Lexi’s tone implied she agreed. “Fine. You want to go home? Let’s go home.” She grabbed his hand. The spark that flowed between them was almost uncomfortable. “Join hands, boys and boys.” She tugged him so she could reach Cerberus as well. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Nothing happened. Seconds ticked away, and Actaeon waited for the familiar shift in environment.
“This isn’t funny. If you don’t want to go, don’t pretend otherwise.” He tried to pull away.
She held tight. “It’s not meant to be funny.” The room vanished, and they stood in the middle of the field again, a nearby scorched tree taunting them. “This isn’t where I wanted to be.”
“Ignore him and concentrate.” Cerberus was kind.
Actaeon wanted to deck him. “Don’t you think she might already be doing that?”
“Trying again.” Lexi spoke through clenched teeth.
Their environment wobbled, like the vertical hold was broken on an old TV, then solidified as Styx. Charon waited for them at the shore.
Finally.
“You found her.” Charon spoke in his normal tones.
Lex stepped forward. “Yup. Here I am. Happy and healthy and really fucking irritated. We’d like to go home. Drop us wherever, like last time. I’ll give you...” She patted her pockets, then frowned. “Can I owe you?”
Charon covered her hand with long, bony fingers. “You never have to pay again, but you also don’t need my services. You can come and go at will, Mistress.”
“I’m trying.”
Charon pulled back his hood and studied her, then turned to Actaeon. “You were supposed to help her become complete.”
“She looks complete to me. Feels it, too.”
No, she didn’t. She was missing that piece that he clicked with. She wasn’t whole, and neither was he. He clenched his fist. Why wasn’t there something around, for him to punch? It wouldn’t solve anything, but it would make him feel better.
“But... they don’t want to be here.” Lexi’s frustration bled into hurt.
“Then I’ll take them home,” Charon said. “You give me the word, and they’ll go. Once you find your balance, you’ll be able to travel back and forth, as part of you will always
be in both places.”
How did that make sense?
“I don’t know what else to do.” Lexi’s shoulders drooped. “Any great and grand advice?”
Charon looked sympathetic. “Don’t let it drive you insane, the way it did your father. I didn’t experience it, so I can only tell you what I saw. I can tell you the story of how Hades was bound to the underworld.”
“Did Cronus really eat a rock dressed like baby Zeus?” Lexi asked.
“No.” Charon stepped onto the docks, and four chairs appeared. He settled into one. “Cronus did want to kill his children, to keep his throne. Rhea wouldn’t let him. The compromise was to lock them away. They stayed in their cells for centuries, growing up with only their minds and each other’s voices to keep them company. After a time, Rhea couldn’t stand to have her children locked away. She went to visit them.
“She started with Hades. He was the youngest, but he was also the most powerful. I know, the stories say Zeus was, but he wrote those stories. Rhea saw the madness in her boy’s eyes, and realized she hadn’t done him any favors by imprisoning him. She said she was sorry and promised that soon he and his brothers would be together for eternity. She tried to sacrifice him.”
This was far more gripping than the tale Actaeon heard as a child. Probably make a better movie, too.
“Zeus and Poseidon heard the noise in their cells,” Charon said. “They broke free to save their brother, and destroyed Rhea in the process. But she’d already plunged the dagger into Hades’ heart. His brothers didn’t know if they could save him. Their next act was one of desperation. They bound him to the underworld, trapping him between life and death, to keep him from passing on. He was already on the brink of madness, and becoming this place didn’t do him any favors. But Persephone was good for him. She absorbed the madness. Healed his mind... for a few centuries, anyway.
“When Zeus and Poseidon started The Enlightenment, Hades refused to join them, and they bound him in the labyrinth to keep him from stopping them. But that’s a different tale for a different day.”
Actaeon understood why the other version was more popular. This one gave actual insight into the three brothers. He glanced at Lexi, who looked transfixed.
“As Rhea lay dying, she begged for her sons’ forgiveness. She made Zeus promise that he would never let the misguided dominate the world, the way his father had. She knew Zeus was good and kind, and made him swear he would keep everyone—Titans, humans, and his siblings—from destroying each other. That he wouldn’t walk in his father’s footsteps, even if it meant lives like hers had to be sacrificed for the greater good. And Zeus swore to his mother he would do as she asked.”
“Wow. Much better than the myth.” Cerberus summed it up perfectly.
Charon shrugged. “Much darker, as well. It won’t help you get out of here, though. The realm has bound itself to Lexi, and until she becomes whole, she’s stuck here.”
Actaeon could leave. Charon already said as much. Cerberus could go with him, not that the hellhound would willingly leave her side. Not in a situation like this.
Actaeon wouldn’t either. Despite his irritation, he wasn’t interested in walking away. He needed to protect Lexi. To love her.
And to be honest with yourself about her.
That wasn’t helpful.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The river and Charon vanished, replaced with Lexi’s new room. Cerberus was impressed she’d adjusted to this so quickly. What was incomplete about her? Charon had to be wrong.
She let out a groan that mingled with the frustration spilling from her, and fixed her gaze on Cerberus. “I don’t know what to do.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Actaeon said.
She pursed her lips. “I so desperately want to say, I told you so. We did things your way. How’d that work out?”
“It was a plan. I gave us a direction. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, because it’s better than let’s go on a quest.” Actaeon paced like a caged animal.
Apparently Cerberus had missed a lot, being trapped in Lexi’s past. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to sit next to him on the bed. “Freaking out doesn’t help. Fill in the blanks for me, about what happened while I was gone. Maybe if we have more of a complete picture, we can make some new decisions.”
“Ugh.” She raked her fingers down her face. “I have the complete picture. I remember you traipsing around in my head. I lived what happened here. Why do you have to be rational?” Some of her anger evaporated as she spoke.
“It’s a thing I do—being rational. Maybe part of the problem is that it’s all still in your head. Not as in you imagined it, but talking it through may help you sort it out.” Cerberus didn’t like being stuck down here, but as long as they were, it was a chance to slow down and catch up. He’d missed Lexi. Spending time with her back then, it was clear how she’d grown into the woman he loved.
“And who knows? Maybe one of us has information you don’t. Centuries of it,” Actaeon said.
Cerberus didn’t know what to make of the tension between Actaeon and Lexi, but it wasn’t helping. Lexi’s reaction to it clawed his skin like a million needles on a roller. “Not to side with the hero, but I feel like I’m missing a big part of the picture here. Do you hate each other now? Is this a new kind of mating ritual the kids are trying?”
“He’s treating me like I don’t know anything.” Lexi’s reply was calm.
Actaeon stopped his pacing, to glare at her. “Because you’re acting like an impulsive child.”
“Because I’m new to being a goddess and trying to figure things out.”
“But you won’t listen to anyone who has experience.”
“Whoa.” Cerberus felt like he was watching a tennis match. “How long have you two been alone together down here?” Months? Years? What kind of isolation bred this level of hostility?
Lexi sighed. “Two days, give or take? And we weren’t really alone. There’s Bob. We talked to Morpheus for a while.”
“Is this like a sexual-tension thing?” Cerberus was grasping at straws. “An instance of oh just fuck already?”
“We tried that.” Actaeon’s stony expression threatened to crack.
“It was good,” Lexi said.
Actaeon shook his head. “It was amazing. It gets better every time.”
Relationship Counselor wasn’t among Cerberus’ skills. When things started to fall apart between Persephone and Hades, he’d listened to both of them bitch, but he hadn’t had any brilliant insight for either of them. Especially since telling Persephone just leave was against Hades’ orders.
“Maybe that’s the only way we know to communicate.” Lexi slid from Cerberus’ grasp and pulled her knees to her chest. “Maybe we don’t have anything else in common.”
She wasn’t completely herself yet. Charon was right, after all. It was as though she was stuck between stages in her life and growth. And he suspected the issue between her and Actaeon had more to do with them being too alike, rather than too different.
“I’m a fantastic listener.” Actaeon crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
“Unless you don’t like what’s being said. And you’re a shitty talker.” Lexi frowned and worked her jaw. “Where did that come from?” The mental question was soft, as if meant only for herself.
“If you’re going to get insight about my past from Icarus, you might want to hear my side of the story, too. Even Fate gets some things wrong.” The fire was fading from Actaeon’s tone.
Lexi’s was evaporating as well. “Are you talking about you and me, or you and him?”
“What?”
Cerberus was more concerned about the conversation she was having with herself than about the dwindling argument.
“Is that really what you think of us?” Actaeon asked her. “That all we ever do is fuck and fight—each other and monsters?”
Lexi shrugged.
“To be fair, you haven’t had a lot of time for much
else. Life has been a series of complications since you met.” Cerberus should stay out of this, but he was already square in the middle, and it ached to see Lexi so frustrated.
She didn’t want to be in this rut. He didn’t have to guess; it flowed from her in waves. But she didn’t know how to change things.
Couples counseling for the woman he loved and another man looked like the best option. He was okay with that, as long as it got them somewhere.
“I don’t want to be stuck down here.” Weariness filled Lexi’s admittance. “Bob is nice, and learning to swordfight is fun, but I miss the freedom of coming and going. I miss that in general. I’m not staying here because I think this is some kind of super-awesome-keen adventure. Believe it or not, I know how harshly parts of this reality suck, and I’m trying to make the best of it.”
Actaeon leaned his head against the wall behind him. “You could have said so a lot sooner.”
“I shouldn’t have had to. I’m under no obligation to justify my optimism to you. I haven’t had control over much of anything since those lost and confused moments before you picked me up in your cab. Down here, I do. Wouldn’t you embrace that, even for a little while, if you could? I turned it into the best thing I could think of, while still working toward a solution.”
“That sounds fair.” Cerberus wasn’t only siding with Lexi because it was her. He hoped he could be as reasonable in a similar situation.
“Besides,” she added, “you wouldn’t leave me behind, and I’d never abandon any of you. There’s no way you can blame me for wanting to find Cerberus. You didn’t agree with me when I wanted to check on Persephone. You argued when I wanted Cassandra gone. You don’t trust my opinion.”
Actaeon stared at ceiling. He kicked away from the wall and approached them. “You’re right. If it was you, and Cerberus insisted you were here, I would have searched everywhere. I’m sorry I didn’t afford you the same luxury. It’s not an easy thing for me to do—trusting someone else’s instinct over my own. I can’t take it back, but I can try harder, going forward.” He settled on her other side on the mattress. “In that vein, what do you think we should do next?”
Apathy's Hero: A Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy (Truth's Harem Book 3) Page 13
