“Wait, you knew who he was the entire time?” Kaya demanded suddenly.
Palamedes shot her an angry glance.
Pen twitched from the accusation but replied, “No, I met him before but didn’t know it was him until he told me now.”
“He just came up to you?” Palamedes asked. “Just walked right up?”
“He said he needed my help.”
“So, where is he now?” Kaya asked. Her tone was still sharp.
“He took me to a crypt, but it collapsed. I lost him after that,” Pen confessed.
“Of course you fucking did.”
“Why are you being so harsh?” Palamedes said rounding on her.
“Raisa is dead!”
“That’s not Pen’s fault.”
“She was there during the fight. Drivas told me all about it. She could have done something to stop this,” Kaya shouted.
Pen’s hands twisted the wineskin.
She wanted to scratch at her wrists, tear at them, but Raisa wouldn’t approve. Still her nails wondered.
“The entire fight couldn’t have been more than a minute,” Palamedes defended.
“She’s the damned Warrior!”
“That doesn’t matter!” Pen shouted getting to her feet. “You weren’t there, and I had to make sure Drivas’s neck didn’t snap.”
“You could have just impaled the man,” Kaya accused.
“Raisa was too close to him, and it all happened too fast.”
“But you’re—”
“Being the Warrior doesn’t make me a fucking miracle worker!” Pen shrieked.
Kaya sucked in a breath but didn’t respond. She glared with such hatred, and Pen thought she might attack.
Part of Pen considered accepting the fight, but they didn’t have time.
“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Pen forced herself to whisper.
Kaya just stormed out.
A silent moment passed, and Pen handed back the wineskin to Palamedes.
“So,” she said getting his attention. “What’s the plan for tonight?”
“What?” he asked, shaking his head as if to clear it.
“The Fang is still out there, and he actually does want to meet with me. Well, I think, anyway. I may have stabbed him.”
“Pen—”
“Do you think the route you scouted will work? Because I think it needs to include the graveyard. That’s where he found me before.”
“Pen, you’re about to collapse,” he protested.
“I was talking to him,” Pen said. “He was right there, and I let him go again.”
“Not intentionally, given the beating you took. There’s a chunk missing from your neck for Phaos’s sake. You should be bleeding out.”
“Perk of being me.”
“You need to at least sit down. I’ll get some bandages.”
“He’s out there—”
“And we will get him,” Palamedes took her shoulders.
She didn’t realize she was shaking until he did.
“Tomorrow night,” he said. She was about to protest, but he continued. “Tell me everything that happened, what he looked like, and what his wounds are. I will go around to the city gates telling everyone about him. Then we flush him out.”
The concern in his eyes was enough to stop her protests. He wasn’t going to budge.
“Kaya isn’t going to help, is she?” Pen asked.
He paused, still holding her. “I don’t know her that well, but maybe.”
Pen conceded that point, noticing her blurry her vision was getting worse and glad that Palamedes was holding her up.
Chapter Forty Six
Pen
The linen around her neck itched, especially where the dried blood caked to it. The headache pounding away in her skull was enough to leave her in a foul mood anyway.
Palamedes had cleaned both wounds and was worried about her head the most, but they couldn’t do much about it. At least the bleeding had stopped so she didn’t have to focus on it constantly.
Pen walked now, following the path she’d memorized from the maps. It was actually warm out, so it was a nice walk, but it did nothing for the cold pit in her stomach.
Raisa was dead.
The thought was constantly there, trying to drag her down, and she wanted to follow it.
She couldn’t let it take over, not yet.
So, she pushed those thoughts down, buried them for later.
The street she crossed was wide and empty, and she headed west towards the Lion’s Den. The first spot Palamedes marked off in his plan.
Scratching the side of her neck, and using the moment to turn her head, she caught a glimpse of Palamedes behind her.
All she really saw was a shift in the shadows in the shape of a man, but it was enough. He followed, keeping an eye on her back as they waited for the Fang.
She was glad he was there.
Kaya had decided not to join them. She hadn’t even spoke to Pen, claiming through Palamedes that the plan would work in a smaller group anyway. If the Fang showed up once like this, then she doubted he would a second time.
Pen didn’t argue her point.
Palrig was still back at the hideout too with Drivas. She didn’t begrudge him staying at all. Drivas was distraught enough, and she needed his support now.
The cold lead of grief threatened to pull her down again, but Pen kept her feet moving.
They had to catch the Fang now, and this all hinged on him still wanting to talk to her. Given last night’s chaos, he probably left the damn city, but Pen had to hold onto something.
She passed the Lion’s Den, surprised by the amount of life inside. Business carried on as usual.
Continuing on, she turned down narrower streets and a few alleyways. Palamedes’s route took several turns and a wide variety of neighborhoods. All were within range of the murders.
Pen’s addition of the graveyard was outside that plan, but Palamedes found several narrow and less wealthy streets to reach it. He hoped the questionable ones would draw more attention to a woman walking on her own.
Frustration welled as nothing happened after hours of walking in the streets.
Passing the gates to the graves, a mild hope sparked. Pen paused among the shadows and tombstones looking for anything out of place. If he was here, she didn’t want to scare him off again.
Propping herself on the base of a statue of Nyx, relatively close to the street and with Palamedes in sight, she tried to appear non-threatening.
Having no idea what that looked like, she ended up just swinging her legs, quickly getting bored.
She was tempted to go back to Palamedes to come up with a different plan, but she decided to give it a few more streets.
Sticking to his original route again, Pen left the graveyard and turned down a street hardly wide enough for two horses to pass abreast. Stone walls rose above her, blocking out the moonlight. Lines of washing caught her attention for a moment. Hundreds of ropes crisscrossed overhead like tree branches. She missed the trees.
Footsteps echoed louder here as well, and Pen heard a single set of them behind her. There weren’t many doorways or arches to hide in here, but there were more entrances to alleyways. With a quick glance back she saw Palamedes still there keeping close to the buildings while Pen strode through the center.
Just as she was about to turn back around, she saw the darkness between her and Palamedes shift.
Giving a quick hand signal after two steps, Pen let him know about the newcomer.
The moment the signal was done the sound of a fist connecting to flesh, followed by a grunt, sent a chill down her back.
Dropping all sense of caution, Pen spun to join the fray, almost overjoyed that something had finally happened.
The joy was quickly cut out by the sight of the knife hilt in Palamedes’s arm. It didn’t seem to bother him, because he had the Fang pinned up against the wall.
“Yes!” Pen shouted in excitement sprinting to th
em now.
Zenous’s hood fell back as he looked to her then, terror and confusion in his eyes.
He almost looked betrayed and upset by it.
He scrambled before Pen could reach them, catching Palamedes off guard. Zenous managed to get a hold on the knife again and twist it out of his arm, causing Palamedes to scream and drop him.
In that panic, Zenous broke free, Palamedes’s fingers tearing through the old cloak.
“Don’t you fucking move!” Pen shouted.
She drew enough blood to make her dizzy for a moment but kept running. One good grip on his leg or wrist would be enough.
She was only thirty feet away now. Palamedes lunged at him again. Pen practically felt the knife as Zenous buried it into his gut.
Zenous stood there stunned. As if his hand moved on its own to defend himself.
Rage boiled at the sight of Palamedes’s blood and his white shocked face. She was not going to let him die too.
Closer now, and screaming, Pen threw her crimson rope at the Fang of Stymphalia.
He turned towards the scream, muttering something, and avoided Pen’s blood, shoving Palamedes aside as he did.
Palamedes stumbled and went to one knee, clutching his bleeding stomach.
“I just wanted to talk,” Zenous pleaded still holding the knife. “I was trying to knock him out. I didn’t mean—”
Finally reaching him, Pen covered his knife and hand with her own blood, sealing it shut. With her other fist she swung and connected with his nose.
His head snapped back, and Pen felt the cartilage break.
In her anger she hadn’t noticed his fist rise. She was too close now to avoid it as it filled her vision. She at least turned her head, not wanting him to break her own nose or get an eye.
The blow to the side of her head was enough. He punched just above her ear, and she practically heard the bones in her already cracked skull grate together.
Pain exploded and her vision turned white, all concentration gone.
She tried to grab for him again as she felt her blood melt from his knife, but only felt the edges of his robes.
Everything was blinded from the radiating pain, but she heard distant struggling.
Trying to stay on her feet, Pen clasped her hands over her head as if to keep her skull from crumbling.
It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, stretched to an eternity, but eventually her vision returned.
Fully expecting Palamedes to have gotten up and tackled the bastard, Pen froze at the sight before her.
Zenous had tried to escape down an alley, but he stood there now, facing her.
An old man was on his knees in front of him with that damn knife against his throat.
The round shield on his back was enough of an identifier, but she knew his face.
“Hey, Pen,” her father panted.
Tyndareus’s nose bled, but the new feature that really shocked her was the gray hair in his midnight blue locks. There were lines around his eyes and mouth now too. He looked so much older than when he supposedly died.
She couldn’t respond, as if Zenous’s knife was at her own throat.
“Let him go,” Pen begged, her heart constricting. “Please.”
Looking to Zenous standing behind him now, she saw he was just as battered. Tyndareus gave a good fight, but Zenous was still much younger.
“Who is he?!” Before she could answer he kept talking. “No, no, I know this can be done. I just need a second, just shut up for a second!”
Zenous shifted the blade he still held to Tyndareus’s throat.
Palamedes grunted behind her. She wanted to make sure he was okay too but couldn’t look away from her captive father.
“I can do this,” he said to the ground suddenly, “please, I can do this.”
“Wait,” Pen pleaded. “He’s my father. Please, don’t hurt him.”
“But …” Zenous seemed to come back to himself for a moment, “but you’re a child of the gods. That’s what he said. He said he needed you.”
“Through my mother,” she said hoping her desperation would help the half lie. “He has nothing to do with that. Just let him go.”
Zenous fell silent, but he didn’t move.
A thousand scenarios rushed through her head, wondering which weapon would be fastest, probably a quick, sharp tendril, but she couldn’t try anything with that blade at her father’s neck.
The knife moved, causing her heart to jump, but Zenous only shifted his own wrist and cut himself. It went right back to Tyndareus’s throat after.
Zenous thrust the bloody wrist towards her.
“Drink it,” he said, desperate and scared.
Every inch of her protested, and she heard Palamedes growl out curses at the idea, but Pen stepped forward. Zenous watched her every move.
Taking a piece of her own flesh between her teeth, Pen bit down on her cheek hard enough to bleed. The familiar taste of iron filled her mouth. It was the only thing she could think of now.
Once she reached the Fang’s hand, she stole a glance down to her father. He watched her, calm as always even with a knife at his throat. If anything, he looked sorry for getting caught.
The blood on Zenous’s wrist was dripping to the ground now. Pen took the back of his hand and outstretched forearm. Clamping her teeth around the wound, she gagged as his blood mingled with hers. It tasted the same, but it was wrong.
Yes! Fresh blood, more of her immortal blood, but don’t have her drink yours, you idiot!
“Wait? What?!” Zenous shouted to the voice Pen could now hear.
I just … to talk to … No!
The voice kept vanishing between words, as if Pen heard him from a distance and she could only partially catch what he was saying.
His terror filled her veins. Apparently, the voice had never been that clear before even with the pauses at the end.
Wading through his chaotic thoughts and the distant screams of anger, Pen mixed her blood deeper into his at the raw vein.
Trying to not gag, Pen pulled her head back, but the strings of blood still connected them. The sight alone of the tendrils coming from her mouth and touching his veins almost made her lose the connection.
She felt every bit of his blood as if it was her own, and she drew on all of it.
Gallons of blood flew from his wrist as she threw it onto the floor.
Zenous gave one scream that faded as the knife fell from his pale, numb hands.
Pen watched, mouth still agape with his blood, as he collapsed.
Chapter Forty Seven
Pen
Leaving the Ragged Wolves’ fletching shop after getting Palamedes back there, Pen let her feet carry her to the apartments.
She half expected guards to stop her for news on the Fang, or for one to take her to the queen, but there was no one out tonight other than the two men they saw on the way back. Pen was lucky to flag one down and tell them where the body of Zenous was. She hoped they would follow her order and take him to Biros. She was too concerned for Palamedes’s gut wound to care right now.
She held a torn part of her cloak to his stomach as they walked, and he was actually able to stand with her help. It took much longer than she wanted, but once they were inside, Kaya practically pushed her off him to bandage his wounds.
Before he was whisked away, he took her hand and squeezed it.
“I’ll be okay,” he said, in a tired but steady voice. “You go talk to your father.”
She didn’t want to leave, and even hoped she’d see Drivas, but he was right. She had to go and find her father again and see if he stuck to his promise.
Once Zenous was dead and Pen got Tyndareus to his feet, he promised to meet her back at her apartments. He said he wanted to help with Palamedes but also didn’t want to raise too many questions from the others. Pen assured him she could get Palamedes back on her own and agreed to meet him after.
He better still bloody be there.
W
hen she was close to the apartments, she felt eyes on her. Not in the mood for anything else tonight, she froze and waited for whoever wanted to sneak up on her.
It was like the entire city was devoid of people here; windows were even missing the small life of candles or lanterns. It reinforced the isolation, but Pen knew she wasn’t alone. This was different, though, as if her stalker was back, only she knew where he was, and this was bringing more danger.
Glancing back, half expecting to see some god, she spotted two familiar figures and calmed. The woman’s red hair was diluted in the darkness, but it was unmistakable. And the man’s cloak billowed from his legs in the breeze as they approached.
“What do you want?” Pen asked exhausted.
“Well, good evening to you too,” Dagger bit back, sensing her annoyance.
“Are you okay?” Scythe asked.
“No, but just get to the point, please.”
“It’s about what I tried to tell you before,” Scythe said. “There’s someone waiting for you, and you can’t just keep blowing him off.”
“I can’t help, all right?” Pen sighed. “Just not right now. I’m sure you can handle it.”
Before they could argue, Pen turned her back and stalked off.
“Well, fine. It will be a wonderful fucking surprise, then!” she heard Scythe shout.
Pen didn’t even turn around, though she felt bad about it. They deserved an explanation at least, but she could barely breathe right now. Plus, she had to somehow maintain a conversation with her father.
The door to her building was locked, but she had no problem making a key to it and her own rooms. She’d lost her key ring somewhere.
Half expecting it to be empty despite his promise, Pen froze when she saw him. Tyndareus stood from the couch by the hearth when she entered.
He looked so old in the firelight. New wrinkles lined his eyes and mouth, and there was more silver in his midnight hair than she’d seen before.
She wanted to run into his arms like a child again, but she stayed put.
“Hey, hun,” he said smiling, but that faded when he really saw her. “Are you okay?”
Grief of the Undying (The Ichorian Epics Book 3) Page 26
