Venus Rising: Book 3 Aphrodite Trilogy (The Daughters of Zeus 6)

by Kaitlin Bevis

  Medea’s voice sounded thick with embarrassment, but she forced the next question out anyway. “So how do we focus their thoughts on me?”

  “You’re one of three girls on an island full of eligible, young guys, so it shouldn’t be hard. But given the current climate . . . it’s probably best not to work the crowd.” The smell of coffee had grown stronger during my absence. I followed it into the kitchen. “Narcissus likes to experiment. He’ll want to know if he can make you stronger, if only for him to use.”

  “It’s worth a shot.” Otrera passed me a steaming mug of coffee. “But we’re still back to square one with the shield.”

  “Are there are ten other demigods on this island who can cast shields?” My hands closed around the hot mug, and I took a cautious slurp of the bittersweet drink. “Still?”

  Otrera’s breath caught. “No. Nestor is down, and he’s probably not the only one. Once Narcissus is done with the census, I should be able to tell you exactly who is left.”

  “Then let’s go see if it’s been knocked down to a manageable number.”

  Chapter XXIII

  Medea

  BY THE TIME Aphrodite, Otrera, and I made it to the ruined courtyard, Narcissus was passing out glittering stakes made of a hard, unforgiving metal. Olympian Steele.

  “It’s time to make sure you all know how to use this,” he explained, before launching into a ridiculously long speech that I barely heard. My attention was riveted on the weapon he held. A weapon made with my blood. Steele was just metal until it was imbued with divine power, and my blood was chock-full of the stuff.

  “From now on,” Narcissus continued, “you will carry this with you at all times.” His speech waxed inspirational as he cited our superior numbers, and I felt as if I should have been paying attention. This was important to pass along to the Pantheon if I could ever get dreamwalking to work, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get myself to focus.

  A strange feeling spread through my veins as I stared at the shimmering stakes. It was as if I could feel the tip of each one pricking at my skin. I glanced to my side where Aphrodite stood, a look of horror on her face, and my gaze caught on the spot of blood visible through her bandage.

  Aphrodite and I were left out of the training. The official explanation was that I needed to regain my strength from teleporting the island, and she was still recovering from almost drowning, but we both knew it went deeper than that.

  The other demigods were watching our every move. All their anger, their suspicion, hung around our necks like millstones. Only Otrera had escaped unscathed. She trained with the others, and to no one’s surprise at all, took to it like a fish to water.

  Otrera sliced at the air with a quiet control, every movement of her long limbs filled with a dancer’s grace. Every twist and turn of her body was executed with a cruel efficiency. I watched her, torn between awe and fear at the thought of the damage she could inflict.

  When training wrapped up for the day, we set to work trying to put the island back together. We didn’t bother rebuilding. Not only did we lack the materials, we all knew the island wouldn’t be able to last much longer. Narcissus assured us there was a plan in place to evacuate “with a purpose.” Whatever that meant. There were all kinds of protocols for dealing with almost any imaginable damage to the island until we could safely evacuate.

  Unfortunately, restoring the water and fixing the septic system were high on the list. Guess which one I was assigned to? After a grueling day that left my back aching despite my ability to heal and my sense of smell burned into blessed numbness by sheer nastiness, I finally managed to corner Narcissus outside the remains of what had once been a storage shed.

  “Do you think we’ve never tried worship?” Narcissus asked, wrinkling his nose when he took in my disheveled state.

  “With me?” I demanded, wilting in the salt-filled air. My shield kept the near-constant deluge of rainwater off the island, but it didn’t let the water that had already gathered on the ground leave, much less the bit of ocean I’d trapped within the shield to move. The water surrounding the island had turned stagnant and smelly. Frigid liquid misted in the air when it tried to evaporate, fogging up the shield from within while the rain outside gathered atop the shield, adding a shimmering veil to the island until the water welled up enough to roll off the top of our protective bubble. “Come on, you can’t deny I’m different.”

  I’d once referred to myself as what came next. And after the events of the last twenty-four hours, I’d say all signs pointed to me being right. “I am the reason this island is still together and I’m our only way off. What happens if I run out of power?”

  “Why, Medea, I had no idea you were feeling so pressured.” Narcissus’s voice took on a condescending lilt as he moved to adjust his sleeves. The motion brought him up short, blinking at his bare wrists in surprise, as if he’d forgotten he’d finally been forced to give up on wearing his fancy clothes and do actual work. “Weren’t you listening this morning? We do have demigods that aren’t on this island.” He clasped my shoulder. “They’ll bring boats and reinforcements. Once everyone’s been given an assignment, we’ll evacuate one boat-load at a time.”

  “Assignment? You mean a hit list.” I hadn’t been paying much attention this morning, but I got the gist. He’d be sending armed demigods out in groups, each gunning for a different god.

  Narcissus shrugged, unbothered by my interruption. “Just keep helping the other shield casters maintain the new, expanded shield until then and make sure to get lots of rest. You lost quite a lot of blood after moving the island.” He winked at me with a smirk.

  The gray sky, the frigid wind, Narcissus’s smug expression—everything dropped away with a sudden realization. I’d been unconscious in the hospital for hours after I’d passed out. And I still felt like crap. I’d credited my lethargy to moving the island and all the chaos that followed, but was there more to it? Had he used that opportunity to draw more blood?

  Why wouldn’t he?

  Oh gods. My mind immediately started doing the math. Narcissus had access to my mother’s entire staff, sworn into obedience. He knew everything they knew, including to wait a minimum of forty-eight hours between blood draws.

  Narcissus wasn’t going to strap me down and take every drop from my body. He wasn’t going to risk surgeries and longer recovery times, not when he still might need me for an emergency evacuation. But draining me bit by bit every other day? That he could do and still take advantage of my powers. It was win-win for him.

  But then, why hadn’t he used it on the wounded? Like Otrera said, he needed the numbers, and between the stock of the stuff I’d seen in the hidden wing and whatever he’d taken from me in the hospital, he should have had enough to at least start healing people. He might even have enough to cure them all.

  Because no one but Narcissus and I know how much Jason had on hand, I realized. They wouldn’t know he was being greedy, hanging on to everything he could to make more weapons or maybe just save some cure-all for himself in case something happened. The wounded were sitting in the hospital, screaming in agony, but they couldn’t die. It’s not as though Narcissus would lose a single demigod by waiting two days, so why rush when he could use the delay. I’d already left Jason behind. If the demigods saw me fighting against a relatively simple procedure that could cure their friends at almost no personal risk, I’d confirm I was a monster in their eyes. Narcissus’s mob would turn against me in a flash. Everything I’d ever done would be tainted, including siding with “Elise.”

  He wins either way, I realized. Even if I gave in, gratitude from the islanders would only go so far. It was one thing for the islanders to know I could miraculously heal them, it was another for them to see their friends brought back from the brink, never to be sick again, in better physical health than ever before.

 
I’d seen it happen to my own mother. They’d never let that power go. I’d stop being a person to them and become a resource.

  And if I didn’t give in, they’d have all the excuse they needed to lock me back in the lab and take it by force.

  I forced myself to take a steadying breath. “With more power, I’d probably heal faster, too.”

  Greed flickered in his golden eyes once he parsed out the words behind my accent. “I’ll ask everyone to give worship a shot.”

  Shaken, I turned away.

  Chapter XXIV

  Aphrodite

  SOME GODDESS I was. I’d failed. Not just failed, I’d made it worse. Yesterday, the Steele had been locked out of reach, but at least it had been all together. If the Pantheon found me now, they’d find themselves facing an entire population of armed demigods who could come at them from every direction.

  Assuming the gods got here in time.

  Narcissus had reinforcements on the way and, once they got here, they’d have the means to smuggle Hades off the island, forever out of my reach. Since Medea would have to drop the shield for the ship when it arrived, I wasn’t worried about them sneaking Hades away under my nose. But that didn’t change the fact that I’d be powerless to stop it when the time came.

  I still hadn’t managed to teach Medea to dreamwalk. We’d try again tonight, but the odds of her mastering it in enough time to warn the Pantheon what was coming seemed slim. Worship had made no discernible difference in her power level. And I couldn’t even risk leaving the cabin during happy hour for fear armed, drunk, demigods would decide to take out their rage on me. It wasn’t just possible at this point, it was likely.

  A wave of pain washed over me, just in case I’d forgotten that the demigods were literally trying to dissect the secret to the divinity I’d granted Adonis. I could feel them poking and prodding at him through our bond. But our bond was a two-way street. He could feel everything happening to me too, so the least I could do was provide some him some pain relief.

  Unfortunately, all the actual medication on the island for that purpose was being used by the wounded and not-quite-dead demigods in the hospital. So, alcohol would have to do.

  Whipped Cream Flavored Vodka, I read, studying the bottle before I took another carefully measured shot of one of Medea’s too-sweet drinks. I could get drunk now, so I had to be very, very careful how much I consumed.

  Ignoring the sounds of Caribbean music and laughter piercing the thin walls of the cabin, I sat on the worn, leather couch, methodically crushing up the strongest sleeping pills Otrera could find at the island’s limited pharmacy. Our plan had almost no chance of success. But no matter how much I racked my brain for an alternative, I couldn’t think of a better option. We were out of time.

  Eight bowls sat atop the coffee table, each in a very specific spot. There was no room for error. I used my shot glass to crush the tiny, white tablets on a piece of paper, then angled the paper to carefully pour the contents into each of the tiny bowls.

  I couldn’t believe the demigods were still doing their stupid nightly parties. Narcissus legitimized the whole thing by saying the island had about a week’s worth of supplies left on it, and anything we didn’t use before the evacuation, we’d have to leave behind. But I knew the truth.

  He needed to keep the demigods happy, their spirits high. If they stopped long enough to think the plan through, they might realize how stupid they were being.

  Narcissus had called in a favor from the demigods stationed off the island and procured a ship to take everyone away one boatload at a time. Teams of demigods would be sent to different locations, armed to the hilt with Steele, poison, and a divine hit list.

  “Is it dangerous?” Narcissus had said before Steele practice this afternoon. “Of course. We won’t all be successful. In fact, most of us will likely fail. But we don’t have to defy the odds to win. There are only a handful of gods left, and over a hundred of us. Each success brings us closer to a world without their interference.”

  He’d paused to meet the eyes of the assembled demigods, all itching to get their hands on a weapon. “Imagine that, for a moment. A world where our descendants don’t have to live their lives in fear of being the next pawn on the board.”

  Once he started passing out the metallic sticks of death, I’d taken off. I certainly hadn’t the stomach to sit around at happy hour and watch them celebrate my pending extinction. So here I was, doing the most menial, useless prep work for the plan Otrera, Medea, and I had come up with this afternoon.

  It wasn’t going to work.

  Don’t mope, I chided myself. It wasn’t over yet. I eyed the list of shield-casters sitting on the side table. The yellow paper fluttered as though mocking me, a pen laughing by its side. There were too many shield-casters. We couldn’t take them all out at once, and if we left one to sound the alarm, I’d be going into the hidden wing as a corpse.

  Two down from the quake, I thought, my befuddled mind trying to keep count of the demigods I’d crossed off the list. Eight left.

  I crushed another pill. There had to be something we were overlooking. Taking a very unproductive drink—wow, that whipped cream flavor was growing on me—I went through the mental catalogue of what I knew about the island.

  Jason’s cell phone had left the island with him. The only other phone was on Narcissus’s person. I’d watched him all day—it never left his pocket. If we could just contact the Pantheon, our plan’s chance at success would exponentially improve.

  He has to charge it sometime. Maybe you can convince him to let you spend the night. Sneak a phone call to Persephone.

  Unlikely. I’d seen plenty of men and women throw themselves at Narcissus. He’d never so much as batted an eye. The demigod surrounded himself with people who seemed to barely tolerate his company. Like Echo, the assistant he’d left back home to manage his affairs while he was here on the island.

  If we’re the reflection of those we surround ourselves with, what did it say that Narcissus chose to surround himself with people who couldn’t stand him?

  “Do you care?” I wondered before deciding that no, Narcissus’s inner struggles didn’t matter to me. Not unless they could help me off this island.

  It’d been a ridiculous idea anyway. Even if I’d ever seen him exhibit interest in someone other than himself, I didn’t need to be able to see my reflection to know that I was a mess.

  Cuts, scabs, and bruises covered golden skin. Exhaustion was evident in my every feature, except that these weren’t my features. They were Elise’s. And Narcissus knew Elise, the real demigoddess. There were lines I wouldn’t cross. Not for either of them.

  Seduction was out. My powers still gone. Every idea I’d had failed. My super-powerful friends were out of reach. My hard-won favors useless here. I couldn’t even safely leave this cabin. All I could do was sit here, crushing pills, for a plan I knew was going to fail without the Pantheon’s aid. I could feel myself spiraling. Knowing groups of demigods were casually practicing fighting with Steele had frayed my last nerve. My fear of the stuff was instinctual, conditioned. Immortals feared nothing more than their weaknesses.

  I crushed the final pill and carefully transferred it to the eighth bowl. A thin trickle of blood worked its way down my arm, my most recent bandage already soaked through. Is it possible to bleed to death from such a tiny scrape? It was a constant trickle of blood, but a thin enough trickle that my body should still be producing way more blood than it was losing. Still, if the Steele didn’t end me, infection might.

  Why hadn’t I stopped bleeding? What would happen to me when my powers returned?

  “You’ll probably die,” I declared, peeling off the bandage and giving the wound a cautious sniff. It didn’t smell infected. So far so good? At least, until it wasn’t. But I was used to that feeling.

  I couldn’
t remember the last time I hadn’t had the threat of death hanging over my head. Literally could not remember. When was the last time I’d taken a breath without feeling that overwhelming tightness closing in on my lungs? This was an impossible situation. Every step I took brought me closer to utter failure. It was too much.

  Panic clawed at my chest. I felt like I was stuck on a sinking ship. My heart thudded so loud in my chest, that for a moment, I didn’t notice the knocking on the door.

  “I know you’re in there,” Calais called from the other side of the thick wooden door, his voice slurred from drinking. “Open up!”

  Before my mind could process what was happening, I rose, my blanket falling on top of the small lamp tucked beneath my feet. Bile rose in my throat when I caught myself reaching for the door. Like many of the demigods on the island, Calais wasn’t in control of his charm. When I’d first arrived on the island, the fact that I was vulnerable to charm scared me more than anything else.

  But it hadn’t been as much of a problem as I’d anticipated. I’d identified the out-of-control charmers right off the bat, avoiding them when I could, and approaching them in groups when I couldn’t. They weren’t expecting charm to work on me. So it never occurred to them to ask me to do something that would reveal I wasn’t immune.

  “Elise,” Calais shouted again, his voice muffled through the door. “Come out here!”

  The claws of his charm slipped from me enough for fear to hit me with full force, followed quickly by relief.

  Were my powers coming back? By inches maybe, but I’d take immunity to weak charm over nothing. I edged away from the door, careful to stay out of sight of the windows and not to make a single sound to tip him off that I was inside.

  A quick glance at the coffee table assured me all the bowls were in the right place, each filled with a measured dose of sleeping medicine. My part was done. I could lock myself in the bedroom, fill my ears with cotton balls if need be, and wait him out. He wouldn’t dare—