by Ella Frank
He peered down at the book upon his lap, the one Vasilios had told him to hang on to, and wondered if what the Ancient had suspected was true.
Was this some kind of prophecy? Did it hold all the answers? Because there had been nothing after the image of Diomêdês feeding him. No sign of the assembly. No sign that Leo would pass out, and no indication of what was to come, and shouldn’t a prophecy tell the future?
Elias flipped open the book to see if what was happening now had appeared, and when he got to the final page, his eyes widened at what he saw—because if what he was actually looking at was taking place, it might just explain what the fuck was happening here.
A distraction of monumental proportions.
ALASDAIR HAD SCOOPED Leo up in the crook of his arms and was holding him close. His hand was fully healed now and no longer a concern, but Leo…he’d been out awhile now, and it had been so long since this had happened to him that Alasdair was becoming alarmed.
“I did not think this would happen anymore,” he said, as he looked across to Vasilios, who was crouched down staring at Leo with a concerned expression.
“Nor did I. It has not happened since he drank from me.”
Alasdair nodded and ran a hand over Leo’s hair as he scanned the hall. The council members were uneasy, concern for their own well-being now at the top of their list. But their curiosity over the one who had just emitted sunlight deadly enough to kill was also at the forefront.
They were selfish beings, after all, and they all wanted to know who it was that their leader and his progeny were fiercely protecting with their own bodies…their own lives.
“If I were to hazard a guess,” Vasilios said, and when Alasdair’s eyes found his, he saw something in their depths he hadn’t ever seen from Vasilios before—concern. He was worried about Leonidas. Deeply worried.
“I believe he has angered his god.”
As those words ran through Alasdair’s mind, he recalled the very last thought Leo had had before he passed out: I was always told in times of crisis you should be with the ones you love most.
“Yes. That has to be it,” Alasdair said as he shook Leo’s arm again.
“I agree. And if this is indeed the beginning of the end, Alasdair, then we must warn the others.”
Vasilios straightened to his full height, and right where he stood, without any more preamble, he announced, “We summoned you here tonight to tell you of two threats that present serious and deadly repercussions to us as a species. These are not idle, and they are on a scale we have never before encountered.”
As Vasilios’s words boomed around the hall, the attention of the masses was redirected from the one who still lay unmoving in Alasdair’s arms, to the fierce leader who was now addressing them despite his own obvious distress.
“The first is that of Eton.” As the third, and missing, Ancient’s name was spoken, there was movement to Alasdair’s left, and then he saw Elias Fontana get to his feet.
“I need to speak to you,” Elias said, addressing Vasilios in a way that no one, not even Alasdair, would dare to at any time—but especially not at an assembly.
Diomêdês flashed over in front of Elias then, and Alasdair had to admit that seeing the two of them face off with one another was something to behold. Both appeared as determined as the other, and when it seemed unlikely either would budge, Isadora seemed to be the deciding factor. She touched her fingers to the back of Elias’s hand, and when the male looked down at her, he gave her a shrug as though he were…sorry?
“You need to see this,” Elias said, and then shoved past Diomêdês to walk in Vasilios’s direction. As he strode forward, the entire Chamber exploded with chatter and gasps at the nerve of the male daring to defy not one but two Ancients.
When he stopped in front of Vasilios, Elias looked down to where Alasdair still held Leo and frowned, and then faced off with Vasilios and said, “Don’t worry, I’m more than aware of my place in the scheme of things, and if I’m alive in the morning, you can take great delight in whatever horrible punishment you can think of. But for now, pull your head out of your ass and look at this.” He thrust the open book in Vasilios’s direction, and Alasdair watched as his Ancient’s eyes dropped to the page in front of him.
Alasdair wished he could see what Vasilios was looking at then, because the telltale tick at his Ancient’s jaw let him know that whatever he was seeing had just snagged his attention—and not in a good way.
Vasilios snatched the book out of Elias’s hands, and as he did, Leo groaned, recapturing Alasdair’s attention. He tore his eyes away from what was going on between the two in front of him, and when he gazed down at Leo, he watched the blood drain from his yielding’s face.
The troubled expression that overtook his usually happy Leonidas was so bothersome that Alasdair wanted to find whoever had caused it and hurt them. But he had a feeling that was beyond his reach, and with Leo’s next words, he knew he was right.
“Their end will come. It has already begun.”
LEO COULD FEEL every eye in the hall now focused directly on him, and just as he’d thought earlier, that was a whole lot of eyes.
He wouldn’t allow himself to focus on that now, though. He couldn’t allow it. There were only two vampires in the Chamber that he needed to be sure were still standing. One was currently holding on to him as though he were about to vanish, and the other was staring down at him with a disturbed look on his face.
“Leonidas,” Alasdair said. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Leo said, and then struggled to sit up. Alasdair’s fingers on his arm were a steady pressure as he held him in place.
Stay where you are, file mou. There are many in here who are on edge right this minute. We do not want to give them cause to do something stupid, like attack.
Leo chewed on his lower lip but said nothing, knowing Alasdair was more than right. He could feel the animosity and tension growing in the Chamber.
“What did you mean just now when you woke?” Alasdair asked.
“Huh? I said something?”
Alasdair nodded. “Yes. You said, ‘Their end will come. It has already begun.’”
Leo brought a hand to the side of his head and rubbed at it. He remembered those words when Apollo had said them, but hadn’t realized he’d said them aloud.
“I think I might have an answer for you.” Vasilios’s voice had both Leo and Alasdair looking up at the Ancient who stood before them with Leo’s book in hand.
“The next blank page—it has now been filled.”
He turned the book around and held it out for the both of them to see, and when Leo realized what the image was of, he gasped.
There, depicted in perfect detail, were the missing three.
Paris, Thanos, and Eton.
But it wasn’t the Eton that Leo remembered—fuck no, it wasn’t. This Eton, he was downright terrifying. He had blood-red eyes and snarling fangs, and was face to face with Thanos, on the attack. And behind Thanos stood Paris.
As if that wasn’t alarming enough, shaded upon the page from light to dark was a cloud that originated from Paris’s side of the image. There was a faint shadowing around his perfectly drawn hands, and as one followed the artistry of the image, the cloud grew increasingly darker until a pitch-black silhouette surrounded Eton.
This was what Apollo had meant.
It had already begun, and by the looks of it, Leo feared, that image meant it may also now be over.
THANOS WATCHED IN abject horror as Eton snarled and hissed at them from across the room. The Ancient’s nails had extended to twist his bloody fingers into knotted extensions of his hands, and as he flexed them by his sides, Eton’s eyes flashed molten.
Thanos could hear Paris’s heart hammering behind him and could scent his fear, and he wished he had the time to get him out of that room before this spiraled out of control. The thing, the infection that had poisoned Eton’s soul, it thrived on fear, and right now it had a lot of it to feed off
.
The skin of Eton’s face had drawn so tight across his bones that when he growled and his lips peeled back to reveal the fangs that were much longer and sharper than his own, Thanos thought the flesh might snap and recoil like a rubber band. The cherubic features now gone, hidden somewhere under the ferocious distortion of Eton’s other side.
Thanos tensed as he prepared for the fight he had always known would one day happen. And as he faced off with the male across from him, he wasn’t the least bit surprised that his death would ultimately come from the one who had offered him life.
What worried him most though, was the very real, and likely, possibility that Paris was going to be a casualty of this battle just as Charlie had been, and all because Thanos hadn’t had the nerve to end Eton back then, and still didn’t have the nerve today.
“Do not do this, Eton,” he said. But he knew it was futile, just as he knew the second they were doomed.
Eton’s eyes narrowed a fraction, but it was enough of a tell that Thanos knew the action for what it was—and then Eton lunged.
Thanos moved in an instant, and he was halfway across the space going head to head with the vicious vampire. Eton raised an arm, preparing to land a blow across Thanos’s face, and as it came down with the finality and precision of a guillotine, those deadly claws sliced through the first layer of skin on the good side of his face.
Thanos’s curse tore out of him as he jerked away, and the sound was both a shout of pain and a warning to the one now clawing at him with every intention of inflicting more damage.
Cunning cretin, to go straight for my weakness, Thanos thought, but he was a step ahead of Eton. He knew how this Ancient fought, had been studying his moves for years, and he had known the fiend across from him would show no compunction in exploiting the cracks in his psyche to get what it wanted.
So he’d let him have that first shot, because the next had to be big, and it had to come from him. After years of learning to hide his feelings from this male, Thanos had the element of surprise on his side when he took hold of one of Eton’s wrists and let his nails sink deep into the flesh under his fingers. He then locked his eyes with the angry ones glaring back at him, and when Eton bared his teeth and let out a howl of pain, Thanos twisted his grip until the distinct sound of cracking bone splintered the air and Eton’s hand dangled at an ugly angle.
“Yesss…” Eton bellowed, and yanked his arm and Thanos toward his chest, the strength of him evident even with a broken bone. “That is what I have been waiting for. Come on, Thanos. What are you waiting for?”
Thanos’s body heaved with his aggression. In this form, Eton was an animal, and Thanos knew by the end of this one of them would not come out alive, and if it was he who should perish, then gods help the male behind him.
As the thought entered his mind, Thanos realized his mistake. The mere seconds he’d allowed his guard to slip, Eton had taken note, and his good hand flew out so he could take hold of Thanos’s throat in a death grip.
Those gnarled hands of his were stronger than anything Thanos had ever felt before, and he knew he had no hope of prying them free. Eton whirled them around so Thanos’s back crashed up against the wall and his feet were clear off the ground. His hold tightened, and as the nails drew blood, Thanos looked across the room to see Paris exactly where he had left him, but his hands were over his mouth and tears were streaking his face as he watched the horror unfolding before his eyes.
Thanos wanted to push into Paris’s mind that he needed to run, that he needed to leave this place before Eton turned on him. But they were in the one room that ensured Paris would never be able to escape on his own. The Adjudication room. And Thanos was in no position to offer up any kind of escape by way of fading.
He looked down at the vampire he’d once found so captivating, and where he’d once seen a kindred spirit, he now only saw pain, suffering, and all of the darkness that was inside the both of them.
“Eton…do not make me do this.”
Eton lowered him down the wall and twisted the fingers he had lodged at his throat. Thanos brought his hands up to the wrist and tried to pull away the arm that was pinning him there.
“There is no other way now.”
“There is,” Thanos managed. “We carry each other when one’s burden is too heavy. You told me that.”
“I did,” Eton said as he leaned in so his temple was now pressed to Thanos’s. “And you told me you did not have a heart.”
At those words, Thanos turned his head so he was eye to eye with his maker.
“You lied,” Eton said. “Darkness, evil, that is what the gods want eliminated. I read your Paris’s mind. I am that darkness. I am designed to kill.”
“No. That is not true.”
Eton yanked his fingers from Thanos’s flesh and took a step back, studying him. “Yes. It is.”
When Thanos merely stood there, staring back at the one he’d walked alongside of, fought alongside of, and lost himself inside the darkness with, Eton sneered, “Think of all those women at Daidalous’s, what I did to them. The wife in front of her husband…think of Charlie.”
As Charlie’s name fell from Eton’s tongue, Thanos’s jaw clenched and his entire body braced for the kill, his mind telling him to finish this.
“You know you want to do it, Thanos. So do it!” Eton roared.
Thanos shoved off the wall and loomed over the male daring him, and even with his entire body telling him to obey, something held him back. Then his eyes shifted, and he looked beyond Eton’s shoulder to see Paris.
He’d walked across the room toward the two of them, his long, sable-colored hair flowing around his shoulders like a protective cape of some kind, and Thanos wished it would save him from whatever happened in the next few seconds.
But then Paris raised his arms and Thanos’s eyes flew back to Eton’s, which had flashed to blue. Then, just before he closed them, his Ancient said, “It is time now for him to carry your burden.”
And then the room exploded in a dense cloud and the entire world as he knew it faded from existence.
The Chamber
PARIS WAS THE first to wake.
He sucked in a deep breath, and it burned as it filled his starved lungs. Where am I? he thought as he tried to sit up, but his body wasn’t listening, and his arms were heavy as lead. He felt as though he’d gone two rounds in a bar fight, and—
Oh God… Oh God…Thanos. Eton. He had been in a fight. One that had resulted in that weird black cloud bursting from his palms and hitting the Ancient who’d been attacking Thanos right before Paris had passed out and ended up here.
Shit. Shit. Did I…did I kill him?
He tried again to make his body work, and forced himself to sit up this time. His muscles ached from the effort, but when he was finally upright, he spotted Elias and Leo a little ways away from him, passed out on the floor just as he had been a second ago.
What the hell had happened to them all? And why weren’t they waking up?
Scrambling to his feet, Paris paid no attention to the ache in his legs as he ran over to Leo first. He was dressed in some kind of robe of gold and black, and when Paris crouched beside him, he saw his chest rise and fall.
Oh thank God, he was still breathing, still alive.
“Leo,” Paris said, and reached out to shake his friend’s arm. “Leo, wake up.”
His voice echoed around the expanse of the hall they were in, and when Paris finally took a moment to scan his surroundings, he realized he didn’t recognize this place at all.
It was massive.
Monolithic stone walls flanked them, and the three of them were laid out on an equally hard surface. There were rows and rows of bench-like seating framing the center aisle where they were situated, and when Paris finally looked over his shoulder to what he assumed was the front of the vestibule, he saw three massive thrones that sat atop a dais.
Where the hell are we? As that thought bounced around his mind, he heard Leo gru
nt and then moan, and looked back to see his friend’s eyelids flutter and then open.
“P…Paris?” Leo said, blinking several times.
“Leo. Thank God. Oh, thank God,” Paris said, as he shoved his hair behind his ears and peered down at his friend.
Leo brought his hands up to his face and scrubbed them over it before he struggled to sit, much as Paris had a second ago. Paris offered him a hand, and when he was upright, Leo asked, “What the hell happened?”
Paris chewed his lower lip and shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Leo narrowed his eyes on him as he looked around, and then he cursed and shoved up to his feet to do a full 360. When he came back around to face Paris again, Leo demanded, “Where are they?”
Paris frowned and shook his head. “Who? Where are who?”
Leo pressed his fingers to his temples then, so hard that his fingers turned white. “Alasdair, Vasilios, and all the others.”
Paris raised his hands in an I don’t have a clue gesture, and when Leo’s eyes fell to his palms, he reached for his wrists and grabbed them.
“What happened, Paris? With Thanos and Eton? Why are your hands black?” As Leo’s eyes found his, they were wild. Then his fingers tightened and Paris yanked his hands free. “What did you do?”
“Nothing,” Paris said, balling his fists. “I didn’t do anything.”
Leo spun away from him, running his fingers through his short hair, and when he froze, Paris knew he’d spotted Elias.
“Fuck,” Leo said, and then hurried to their boss’s side, dropping to his knees.
Paris followed behind, still having no idea what the hell was going on, and as he came around the opposite side of Elias and mirrored Leo’s position, he asked, “Do you know where we are? What is this place?”
