by Raye Wagner
Hope studied the scene but saw only the regular street traffic of Pike Place Market. She begged to be wrong. “What is it?” Please not now.
Another minute of silence. He still didn’t answer but surveyed the café, his hand resting on his belt.
“Athan?” Her heart pounded. “Athan?” Something was really wrong. The last time he’d freaked out—
“Skia.”
Hope’s food turned to lead in her stomach. “Are you sure?”
He refused to meet her eyes when he spoke, “Maybe they didn’t see us yet.”
There was no confidence behind the words, and Hope knew he was trying to spare her. The wall around her heart melted just a fraction before fear kicked back in.
“We need to leave now. We’re sitting ducks in here.”
She glanced around at the other patrons and the bright lighting. “They won’t attack us in here, will they? I mean, there are people and no shadows for them to come in through.”
Athan frowned. “You have more studying to do. If they’re already here, in this realm, they don’t need shadows. They don’t need darkness. They just prefer it. Skia will attack anywhere. We may appear mad, the police might get called, and innocent bystanders might even be killed, but Skia don’t care.”
His heavy words sunk in, and her shoulders sagged.
“Do you have a weapon?” Athan asked.
“Of course.” The two knives were tucked in her boots. She knew better than to leave a conservatory without them.
“Okay, we’re going to walk out the front door as though we have seen nothing. I’m hoping that they’ll be counting on us going out the back. I can’t see them anymore.”
“Maybe they moved on.”
“We’d have to have incredible luck for that to be the case. But I doubt it. If they saw us, we need to move.”
They crossed the crowded café. Athan surveyed the busy sidewalks through the wall of windows and then opened the door. “Let’s go.”
He grabbed her hand, and they stepped out the door.
Hope scanned the bustling shoppers for signs of the creatures from the Underworld. She couldn’t see them, but the chill of death rolled through the air around them. They were close.
“How many?”
Athan said nothing.
THE SECONDS FELT LIKE HOURS.
If there was only one Skia, he wouldn’t attack. Not the case with two of them. Two, and she and Athan would each need to take out one. It would be scary, and dangerous, but they could each handle one. If it were more . . . Hope tried to think of a scenario where that would be okay. She was good, but she’d never be able to best two on her own.
“I saw two.”
Hope’s pulse quickened. Her hands started to sweat. She pulled one of the daggers out from the sheath in her boot. “Even match, right?”
They were almost to the car.
“Right?” Even to herself, she sounded unsure.
The Skia leaped out from behind a parked car, and the force knocked the breath out of Hope’s lungs as she fell to the ground. She kicked up, and her heel connected with the pale face of a male Skia. As he fell back, Hope popped up. She scrutinized the monster from Hades, the human body infused with dark powers from the Underworld. His obsidian eyes revealed nothing, and he wore the telltale leer. His square jaw was all hard angles, much like his body, and his movements were lithe like a panther.
He came at her again, and in a flash, knives whistled past her face. Skia daggers were forged of black metal, and the hilts of Hades’s immortal weapons appeared to be writhing bodies with screaming skulls at the end.
The Skia swung as he moved in, a long arc coming down toward Hope’s face. She threw a block with her left arm and delivered a sidekick to his abdomen. The force sent him flying backward, and she took a fraction of a second to glance at Athan. He was fighting as well, his focus consumed on the Skia swinging a blade at him.
Hope eyed the creature on the ground. He hadn’t gotten up yet, and she knew this was her chance. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the golden dagger through the monster’s eye and into the Skia’s skull with a wet thunk.
She went to help Athan.
This other Skia moved like a bull. His large, heavy frame spoke of power, and as Hope worried about what would happen if one of his swings connected, he punched Athan in the stomach. Athan stumbled backward against the hood of a car.
Hope stepped between the two of them.
The heavyset Skia opened his mouth in a soundless laugh.
Even as he moved toward her, she knew she was no match for his strength. She stepped back in an arc as he moved forward with his first kick until she stood behind him. She reached for her other weapon, but it stuck in its sheath in her boot. This was her chance, and she needed to strike. Hope kicked the creature in the back, pushing him forward and off balance. But she’d missed the tender spot where the kidneys sat. If the dead still had kidneys.
She spared a moment to glance over at Athan. He’d sat up but was still on the hood of the car. He needed more time.
The Skia charged, his face contorted with anger. He crossed his arms, then swung at her with his left fist in a backhand.
Hope dodged the projected strike, but her block wasn’t strong enough for the follow-through right hook. The connection sent her back several feet and to the ground. Dazed, she struggled to her feet. With a shake of her head, she tried to clear her vision of the two Skia standing side by side.
The first Skia’s body began to dematerialize, wisps of black smoke rolling off the body.
She concentrated on the large Skia and realized she hadn’t been seeing double. Two Skia advanced, their movements slow and deliberate. Like sharks circling before an attack. She was outnumbered. They knew it, and she knew it.
She debated running but discarded the idea. There was no way she wanted to leave Athan, nor did she want the Skia on her back. The newcomer was short, no more than five and a half feet, his once olive-tone skin now sickly, and he had jet-black hair on his head and face. The larger Skia loomed even bigger next to his companion.
Hope unsheathed her jeweled dagger. She had no great options. No good ones either. But maybe they didn’t know that. With a deep breath, she ran toward her attackers, screaming through her fear. Hope faked right toward the smaller creature and then spun. With the force of her movement, she buried her knife into the large Skia’s chest. He clutched at the blade and vomited a beam of light.
Hope shifted to face the swarthy Skia. Lightning fast, he kicked at her hip, shoulder, and then head in rapid succession. Hope blocked the first two and stepped closer, taking away his legs. She swung a hook and then an uppercut. Both were deftly blocked. She stepped back to kick, but the Skia slid into her space, turned his body sideways, scrunched down, and drove his heel into her chin.
Hope fell backward, seeing nothing but stars.
She could feel him drawing closer, but she was blind to strike. She staggered to her feet, her arms flailing in front of her as she tried to find him. If she knew where he was—
“You are cursed.”
Judging by the distance of his heavily accented voice, Hope knew he was close. Her brow drew down. “How would you know that?” she shouted, scanning her still blurry surroundings.
A gray silhouette began to take shape in the shadows between the cars. The dark Skia stepped through them until he stood before her, just out of reach. “Hades holds only truth. There are many questions that are answered when you go to the Underworld.”
Was that a threat?
As if in answer, he raised his knife to strike.
There was a blur of movement, and then the Skia was on the ground with Athan sitting on top of him. Athan struck at the Skia’s face, his fists connecting once, twice. And then the Skia brought his legs up around Athan’s throat, pushing the demigod back to the ground. The Skia rocked forward and pulled out his blades.
Athan screamed.
Hope screamed. She charged the dark creat
ure, driving her shoulder into him, shoving him away from Athan. Both Hope and the Skia crashed to the ground. He scrambled for the dark blades, but Hope pulled his legs to drag him away. The Skia beat on her forearm, an icy sledgehammer pounding again and again until she let go.
She’d lost. With a roar of frustration, she lunged, but the creature stood and danced away.
And then he sheathed his blade.
“I will come back for you, Sphinx. One day, we will finish what was started.” The man became mist and disappeared.
With deep, gulping breaths, Hope ran to Athan and knelt by his side.
“Are you all right?” he asked. He glanced over her body as if to see for himself.
Hope nodded.
“Their blades. . .” Should she tell him?
He waved away her words. “You’ve become a great fighter.”
In that moment, the compliment meant nothing. He was still injured.
“Are you okay?” Her hands fluttered over him. She wanted to help. Would he let her?
“A scratch, I think.” He pointed to his leg. “We need to get back. I should have someone look at it.” He grimaced, and sweat beaded his brow.
She stood. “I’m ready when you are.”
Athan stood with a slight sway but waved her away when she stepped up to help. “Go get your weapons.” He pointed to where the Skia had fallen but continued toward the car. “I’d hate to tempt fate by hanging out on the streets of Seattle. One Skia attack per decade is my quota. I’m ready for a little R and R.”
They reached the car, and relief cascaded through Hope as the doors locked and they pulled out onto the street.
Maybe Athan was going to be okay. Maybe a scratch wasn’t so bad.
The drive was silent. Athan’s breathing became more labored as the seconds ticked by. Despite the short distance, when they pulled into the conservatory, Athan was gasping in shallow breaths, and his skin had lost its color.
When she stopped the car, Athan spoke, his voice tight with pain, “I’ll need your help to get up the walkway, but I’m going to try to make it to my room without alarming anyone. Once we’re there, I’ll need you to get Dahlia or Endy, okay?”
“Okay.” Her heart pounded. “Are you going to be all right?”
He laughed, but the sound was off. “I’ll be fine.” He gasped and clenched his jaw. “Eventually.”
Athan leaned on Hope, becoming heavier as he limped up to the door. When he pulled away, Hope noticed his pant leg was saturated with blood.
Hope tossed the keys onto the table. Screw not alarming anyone. “Dahlia?” she yelled. “Endy?”
Obelia poked her head around the corner from the kitchen.
“Where have you two been?” She glared daggers at Hope. “I can’t believe you left. You both know the rules! What in the name of Hades—”
“It was my . . . suggestion . . . Obelia.” Athan gasped as if he’d run a marathon.
Obelia’s mouth snapped shut. “Why?” Her voice dropped and was almost pleading. “Why would you—?”
“I needed to explain something.” He swayed but caught himself on the table. He inhaled, the ragged breath rattling in his chest.
Dropping her head, Obelia closed her eyes with a wince. When she looked up, her eyes were filled with tears. “What could you have to say to her?”
“Obelia, not here.” Athan’s voice trembled, and his knees buckled.
Time seemed to slow.
“Athan?” Hope stepped toward him.
He reached out to her, but before he could make contact, his eyes rolled back, and Athan slid to a heap on the floor.
Obelia screamed.
“Dahlia!” Hope’s voice carried throughout the house. “Endy!”
Footsteps came running.
“What is it?” Dahlia rounded the corner, and with only a glance, she ran into the kitchen. Grabbing a pair of shears, she cut away the pant leg of Athan’s jeans while she yelled for Endymion.
Surprisingly, he came out of the kitchen. With his brothers.
“What is all the yelling for?” He eyed Athan on the floor and then the three women. “What do you want me to do?” Endy turned to leave, and Ty, Tre, and Prax all laughed.
“If you leave, Endy, it had better be out of this house. That goes for each one of you sons of Apollo. You all know the rules of the conservatory. As long as you are here, you will use your power and knowledge for the greater good.”
“Who’s to say what the greater good is though?” Ty crossed his arms and leveled a glare at Dahlia. “It appears that the son of Hermes tangled with something he shouldn’t have. That’s not my problem.”
Dahlia looked up from where she was tying a tourniquet on Athan’s leg. “I’m the senior demigod in the house right now, so I have that say, ’taur head. Either get your medical supplies and help, or get out of this house.”
Grumbling under his breath, Endy left the area with Ty, Tre, and Prax right behind him.
“We’ll meet you in his room,” Dahlia yelled after him. She pulled Athan up by the arms and draped him over her shoulder. “Hope?”
Hope was right behind her. “Yeah?”
“Gods. What happened?”
Hope outlined the fight in brief details as they moved Athan to his room. Obelia interrupted once to curse at Hope, but Dahlia cut her off.
“Save your energy, Obelia. We’re going to need you to be productive. You can yell at Hope all you want, on your own time. But not right now. I need to hear this.”
Obelia and Dahlia listened to the rest of the story.
Endy walked in just after Hope finished. The other sons were noticeably absent.
“What happened?” Endy looked bored as he assessed the wound.
“Skia.” Obelia hissed, glaring at Hope.
“Skata!” Endy regarded Hope with wide eyes. “For real?”
Hope nodded. Why would he think she was kidding?
Endy flushed. “I don’t know if I can do anything to help. What did they get him with?”
Hadn’t he trained for this? How could they not have an emergency kit? “A knife.”
Endy gasped, and his head jerked back. “Athan’s knife or theirs?”
Didn’t he know he needed to do something? Hope was having an out of body experience. The person answering the questions was like a robot, even while her mind reeled. “Theirs. I think.”
“Did you see it?”
Feeling came back in a rush, and nausea roiled over her. Her hands shook, and she clasped them together to get them to stop. “When he got cut? No. Yes. I mean, I was there, but I was fighting. There were three of them.”
Sour bile burned at the back of her throat. If she opened her mouth again, Hope was pretty sure she’d throw up. Without saying anything else, she left. It was only a dozen steps, but she was shaking by the time she got to her room; it took her several attempts to get the door open. Her palms were damp with sweat, and she wiped away the perspiration running down her temple. She made it to the bathroom just in time. She retched over and over. The vomit burned, and tears dripped down her face. She wiped the snot and tears with toilet paper, closed the lid, and then put her head on it.
A knock sounded on the door.
SHE COULDN’T GET UP. Not yet. She was too sick to care who it was.
The knock came again.
“Come in,” she rasped, and then she snapped her mouth shut before she could throw up again.
“Hope?” Dahlia’s voice filtered back through the room. Seconds later, she opened the door to the bathroom. “Ah, here you are.” She looked at the toilet and then back to Hope’s face. “Bollocks. You all right?”
Hope shook her head.
“No, I wouldn’t think so.” Dahlia squatted down until she was sitting on the floor too. She reached out as if to touch Hope and then withdrew her hand.
“Is he going to be okay?” Hope whispered.
Dahlia let out a long breath and frowned. “I wish I could tell you he’s going to be
okay, but it’s too early to tell. Endy sucks. He isn’t even as good as Thenia when she’s drunk. And those other boys are worse.”
Hope’s tears ran unchecked, dripping onto her sweater and making little wet marks. She was congested, and her entire face was oozing. She grabbed tissue, scrubbed at her eyes, and wiped her nose. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Dahlia leaned over and flushed the toilet. “That stinks.”
Both were silent as the water washed down the drain and then trickled to fill the bowl again.
“Athan never should’ve taken you out of the conservatory,” Dahlia said when it was quiet again. “I don’t know what he was thinking. Not that it matters now.”
“Why not? I mean, Xan’s allowed to—”
Dahlia raised her brows. “Xan knows how to fight.” She pursed her lips. “Athan is brave and impetuous, and wicked smart. But he’s a mediocre fighter.”
Somehow that made Hope feel worse. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” Dahlia held up her hand. “Don’t feel bad.” Pride gleamed in her eyes. “I can’t believe you fought three Skia at once and lived. And killed two? That’s pretty amazing, you know.”
Dahlia was clearly trying to cheer Hope up, but the pit in her stomach gaped, raw and painful. “If Athan hadn’t stepped in—”
“You’ve got to stop that, or you’ll go crazy. If Athan hadn’t stepped in, it would be you in that bed instead of him, Hope. And that wouldn’t be better. Trust me.”
Hope couldn’t argue without revealing anything.
Dahlia put her hand on Hope’s leg. “As a senior demigod, and the one that took you out of the conservatory in the first place, he should have done everything to protect you. That was his responsibility.” Dahlia stood up. “Now, are you done in here?”
Maybe? “Yeah.”
Hope dropped the toilet paper into the garbage and gingerly pulled herself up.
“Good. I hate puke.” Dahlia stepped out of the restroom.
Hope washed her hands while Dahlia continued talking.
“One of the reasons I could never get along with Dion is he’s always trying to get everyone piss drunk. And even if it tastes good going down”—she pointed at the toilet—“it’s nasty coming up. I reserve it for only very special occasions.”
