Cressida took a step toward a window, lifting the sheer curtain and peeking through the blinds beneath. They were on a third, maybe a fourth story. She’d brought a length of rope in her pack, but she didn’t see it in the room. She didn’t see the harpe, either. She pictured them carrying it carefully by the sheath or belt since they couldn’t touch any part of the weapon itself. And there wasn’t anything else she could use as a quick weapon unless she started throwing furniture. She walked the room, looking for another way out, some hint as to what she could do. She was about to yell at Adonis or the naiad when another man came from an intersecting hallway, stepped into the room, and smiled at her.
“Looking for the way out?” His hair was the color of spun gold, and though he wore it short, it was so artfully arranged and slightly tousled that it seemed begging for a hand to run through it. Like Adonis, he was so perfect looking she doubted he could be real, but he had an amalgamation of the traits said to make men attractive with just enough of a feminine slant that he seemed as if he could be a beautiful woman as well as a handsome man.
“Narcissus, I presume.” She coughed, the words coming out partly as a croak. The water might not have been real, but the coughing fit had turned her throat raw.
“At your service.” He leaned into the hallway. “Echo, bring our visitor’s bag, please.”
“Please,” came a soft voice from the hallway, and then the barely there sound of footsteps faded away.
“Echo?” Cressida asked. Legend said she was a nymph who’d fallen in love with Narcissus, but as she could only repeat the words of others, she couldn’t express it to him. She’d hidden in a pool of water, and when he’d seen his own reflection above her, he’d fallen in love with it, proclaiming his feelings, which Echo said back to him. He’d lunged for himself, fallen in, and drowned. Cressida had always thought it a stupid story.
He gestured for her to sit. At first glance, he didn’t appear to be the dumbass his story suggested. His eyes seemed intelligent, even cunning, and the graceful way he moved, the care he seemed to take with his gestures, hinted that he knew about the effect his appearance had on people and used it to his advantage.
“What do you want?” Cressida asked.
“That ambrosia you wasted was promised to someone very powerful, someone who’d already been told it was going to be delivered.”
She thought of the amount of time between when Adonis had greeted her and when she’d thrown the ambrosia into the Elysian Fields: a short time in which to make promises. “You must have been very confident that I’d succeed.”
“And we were right.”
“Wrong, actually.”
He smiled, and it was dazzling enough to knock anyone off their feet. “And now we need to be right again.”
She sighed. “I don’t want to get involved.”
“That doesn’t really matter,” Adonis said as he stepped into the room. The naiad had gone, leaving the hallway empty until a small, dark haired woman came in, lugging Cressida’s backpack. She didn’t look at anyone but put the pack at Narcissus’s side and then hurried away.
“Thank you, darling,” Narcissus called.
“Darling,” she said from the hall before her footsteps faded again.
Cressida reached for the backpack, but Narcissus pulled it toward him. She sat back with a frown. “Oh, I see how it is.”
“Good,” Adonis said. “That saves us from having to say it.”
“You’re going to starve me out.”
Narcissus flinched, but Adonis smiled, patting his hand. “Just do what you did before, Cressida, and you’ll be on your way. I won’t even charge you extra for Scylla.”
“And if I’d rather die?”
“Then you’re a fool. Also, we won’t let you. We’ll hypnotize you again if we have to. And if that still doesn’t work and you won’t do what we ask, we’ll feed you the food of the Underworld and trap you here.” He tilted his head and smiled. “After all, why should we be the only ones stuck as we are?”
Cressida tried her very best glower and said nothing. Narcissus turned away as if he found the entire discussion distasteful. Still, he didn’t argue.
“And then there’s auntie to worry about,” Adonis said. “Who’s going to rescue her if you’re trapped here?”
“Wow,” Cressida said. “You two must really be up shit creek.”
Adonis leaned back. “Don’t think our trouble can’t become your trouble, too. The person expecting the ambrosia is very powerful, and if you’re stuck down here, you’re going to be at her mercy.”
“Her” wasn’t much of a clue, but it was more than she’d had before. She wondered if it was Hecate or Medea, the two names most bandied around when people were talking about who was supposedly in charge of what, but neither of them had mentioned ambrosia. Another powerful woman, then? One powerful enough to pull the strings of these two? Well, if they were afraid of powerful women, she had a few names to throw around.
“Medusa and I went to Hecate,” she said, leaning into the sofa. “Maybe after I’ve finished my task for her, I can look into yours. Unless you want to give her a call? Ask if your ambrosia can move to the top of her list?”
They glanced at each other, Adonis without expression, but Narcissus seemed a bit worried. Time to push it, see how far she could bluff.
“No doubt that’s what Medusa is doing right now,” Cressida said, “beseeching the goddess to get me back. Or maybe Hecate will send Medea.”
Now Adonis looked worried, too, and she thought hard for another push, another name she could drop that would really scare them.
Narcissus cracked the tiniest hint of a smile, and Adonis burst out laughing. “I knew you couldn’t hold it!” Adonis said.
Narcissus chuckled along with him. “I tried looking scared, but when you started doing it, too, I couldn’t bear it!”
“You are a terrible actor!”
“But you love me anyway?” Narcissus asked with a pout.
“How could I not?” They leaned in for a kiss so sweet it would’ve given marzipan a stomachache.
“What the hell?” Cressida said.
They blinked at her as if they’d forgotten she was there. “Oh, sorry, dear,” Adonis said. “Didn’t mean to pull the wind out of your sails, but we couldn’t resist. It’s so funny that you don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?”
Narcissus leaned forward slightly. “That you’re even farther up shit creek than we are.”
She looked between them but didn’t get the joke. Maybe they knew that her task for Hecate was complete except for delivery of the harpe, which they currently had. Or maybe they knew Medea had tried to leave Medusa high and dry.
“Should we tell her?” Narcissus asked.
“I think it would be cruel not to,” Adonis said.
Narcissus looked to her and frowned sympathetically. “Oh, but her face, darling. She’s going to be crushed!”
“Call it a goodwill down payment.” Adonis scooted to the front of the divan. “Cressida, my sweet, Medusa has been playing you for a fool.”
Chapter Twelve
They’d checked two safe houses, sent Stheno and Euryale searching via the shade fog, but so far, Medusa and the others had come up empty. Cressida seemed to have disappeared underground or into some kind of illusion that Stheno and Euryale couldn’t see through.
Underground was unlikely. The fabled rivers of the Underworld coursed under the Meadows of Asphodel, and some more enterprising gangs used them to pass unnoticed, but the rivers carried their own dangers. One dip into the Lethe could rob a person of their memories, and the rivers crossed one another so many times it was difficult to tell which was which and where they mingled. Only on the outskirts of town where the dead entered the Underworld was it possible to point out the River Styx. Medusa didn’t think they’d risk taking Cressida down there, and even if they had, they would have emerged by now.
It didn’t help that Adonis and Narcissus ha
d love nests scattered through the city. Theirs wasn’t the largest gang in the Underworld, but they were wealthy. She’d been in one of their houses and seen the opulence. They didn’t keep a large force on hand but rented help when they needed it, like the naiad that had sneaked Cressida away. That and Scylla spoke of more money than they usually threw around. They might have a backer this time, someone who wanted their gang to rise through the Underworld’s ranks.
She could tell the others were getting tired of going from place to place. They’d made casual inquiries after Adonis at each safe house, taking turns pretending to be someone who had business with the gang or with Adonis personally. Each time they’d been told he wasn’t in, and if he wasn’t there, neither was Cressida.
Not that the gang would necessarily tell them the truth, but each time they were close to one of the houses, Medusa felt for Cressida’s living essence and came up empty, nor did they see the gang members they remembered from the Scylla fight. Arachne suggested setting fire to the houses just to make sure they weren’t hiding anyone inside, but Medusa wanted to remain a bit inconspicuous.
After a time, even Pandora’s ire seemed to cool, as if she could afford to wait for vengeance, but Cressida couldn’t. Medusa didn’t think Adonis and Narcissus would torture her—that wasn’t their usual modus operandi—but they would find some way to manipulate her eventually, and they had the time she didn’t.
As her worry for Cressida grew, Medusa realized she hadn’t thought about her sisters in hours. Before Tartarus, any feelings for Cressida had been tempered by what ultimately had to happen between them: Medusa would have to manipulate or force Cressida to kill Perseus, and then Cressida would know that all of Medusa’s “help” had been, if not quite a sham, then at least secondary to Medusa’s plans to save her sisters.
Now she thought first of Cressida’s safety and worried about what Adonis and Narcissus would force her to do. Their schemes might cost June’s life or Cressida’s own. By the time they checked the fourth safe house, she just wanted Cressida back safely, no matter what it cost. After that, she’d have to let Cressida leave.
Medusa clenched her fist, calling herself a coward and a betrayer. If she really loved her sisters, why would she abandon them when salvation was so close? Her lies and schemes were bound to come out anyway. Could she change plans midstream, help Cressida find June, and keep what she’d done a secret forever? Even then, Cressida could still volunteer to lure Perseus out of the Elysian Fields. Then what? Cressida had to be the one to kill him unless June volunteered. Medusa supposed she could capture Perseus and then say good-bye to Cressida, promising to kill him later.
Well, maybe tying him up and keeping him in her apartment for a while wouldn’t be a bad idea. Until some other way to kill him presented itself, she could kick the shit out of him whenever she chose. Or maybe Cressida would want to see the killing done, and Medusa would have to come clean. Cressida would be so angry, she’d probably come after Medusa with the harpe. Medusa could say good-bye to her head, then.
Again.
No, she couldn’t let that happen, and she wracked her brain to think of a way to have everything she wanted with the least amount of lying. Step one, get Cressida back.
“This is taking too long,” Arachne said. “We can’t search the whole city.”
Medusa sighed. “What do you suggest?”
“Giving up,” Arachne said. “Have our revenge later.”
“We need more information,” Pandora said. “We should get another captive, like we talked about before.”
Medusa rubbed her chin. It was worth a shot. She hooked a bit of shade fog and called to her sisters, asking them to find someone at the next house, the largest on their list. When they found someone leaving and walking by himself, Medusa would pounce.
*
It isn’t true.
Cressida rubbed her hands over each other until the skin pulled painfully. She watched the floor while Adonis laid out a plan of systematic betrayal. Every time she glanced at them, Narcissus looked more and more sympathetic. He seemed as if he might reach for her a couple of times but always pulled back as if afraid to intrude.
Hecate’s palace was an illusion, they said. Hecate herself had been Medea, hired by Medusa, who needed the harpe to kill Perseus. Cressida’s stomach shrunk to a black pit. I went back for her. I felt sorry for her.
It isn’t true.
But she’d wondered why the goddess of magic wanted a weapon only a living person or Cronos himself could wield. She’d thought that a goddess could find a way, but if that were possible, why not go to Tartarus herself?
You suspected something like this.
No, she hadn’t, but she would have felt less like an idiot if she had. She’d lost her head over a pretty face, a sad story, and what she’d thought was an offer of help that hoped for but demanded nothing in return.
Or it isn’t true. After all, these two wanted something from her, too.
“Her sisters are going to fade if she doesn’t do something to stop it,” Adonis said. “That part is true.”
“And her plan for Perseus is sound,” Narcissus said, “and I always thought it was romantic and heroic. Reduce her murderer to a shade and feed him to her sisters? Wonderful. But according to our research, the only weapon that can do it is in the other room, and the only hand that can currently wield it is either Cronos’s, yours, or your aunt’s.”
“And rumor has Perseus very near to taking the final resurrection,” Adonis said, “putting him out of Medusa’s reach unless he somehow fails to attain the Elysian Fields again and winds up in Asphodel with the rest of us, but what are the chances of that?”
Of course some of the story would be true. That made it easier to wrap a lie around it. “And I have to be the one to kill him? Perseus?” Blood on her hands for all eternity. “How was she going to get me to do it?”
“We don’t know.” Narcissus moved to sit beside her, but she barely saw him through the tears that hovered like film over her eyes. “But Medea’s been telling people the rest.”
Medea, the person who wanted the aegis, who trapped Medusa in Tartarus. Why expose her partner now? Did she want something from Cressida, too? The tears kept hovering, but they wouldn’t fall.
Because it’s not true.
Adonis sighed. “The point is, you don’t owe Medusa anything. She’s been lying to you the entire time, so you don’t have to think of working for us as working against her.”
Narcissus took her hand at last, making her stop fidgeting. “We’re not going to pretend that we three are friends, though I do feel sorry for you being tricked like that. We’re offering the same trade that Adonis initially offered, only with a few threats thrown in to make sure everyone understands the stakes.” He gave her a kindly smile despite his words.
Cressida pictured Medusa scouring the Underworld for her. She thought on every look they’d shared, every moment from their first meeting to their kiss. Either Medusa was the best actor in the world, or part of her had cared for Cressida even as she’d used her. Somehow, that seemed worse than if she didn’t care at all.
And the voice telling her it wasn’t true was getting weaker.
“Do you know where my aunt is? Is she really with Hecate?”
“It’s a little worse than that, I’m afraid,” Adonis said. “I thought it was Hecate, but it’s…another goddess.”
Cressida didn’t think her headache could get any worse, but once again, she was wrong about everything. Only one other goddess made her home in the Underworld. “Persephone?”
“The same person the ambrosia was destined for,” Adonis said with a smile that seemed a little sad. They’d had a thing once. Adonis had been torn between Persephone and Aphrodite, a feud that had ultimately caused his death if legend was to be believed. She supposed it was only fitting that they’d keep up their acquaintance after he died. “Persephone told me that June was with Hecate, but I think she said that so I wouldn’t know she had Ju
ne. When I asked her if she could get June away from Hecate in order to get some ambrosia, she…” He chuckled.
“She threw a fit,” Narcissus said in clipped tones. “Because she didn’t want to explain why she wanted to keep a mortal for herself.”
“Caused me no end of problems,” Adonis said. “That’s what I was talking about when we first met. It’s all sorted now though. You get the ambrosia, you get your aunt back. Simple.”
Narcissus sniffed and looked away.
“Where’s your proof?” she asked. “Why would Persephone want to give June back now when she didn’t want to give her up then?”
They glanced at each other. “She’s fickle,” Adonis said quietly. Narcissus rolled his eyes, and Cressida wondered if Persephone had always been a sore spot between them.
“As for the proof,” Adonis said, “Medea swore on the River Styx, and we’re willing to do the same.”
Cressida shut her eyes slowly. The punishment for breaking an oath sworn on Styx was to sleep for a year and then be banished for nine. And there was only one place worse than Asphodel to be banished to. It was a magical bond that no one would take lightly. She squeezed her eyes until they hurt. Now was not the time for tears.
“I want a real plan,” she said softly, gaining steam as she went. “No more leading me around without any information. I want a plan in case I meet the Flowers gang again. I want to hear from someone who knows the layout of the Elysian Fields, and I want an oath that when I hand you the ambrosia, you give me June!”
She should have asked for an oath in the first place, but she’d been so much at sea when she’d first come here. She hadn’t been thinking clearly. Maybe this place had messed with her head as much as Medusa’s beauty did. “And I want to witness the oath where you declare that everything you’ve told me about Medusa is the truth.”
Before they could speak, she added, “And not just an oath from you. I want one from Persephone. We’ll all swear by the River Styx.” They shared a small gasp. She sat back and crossed her arms.
Coils Page 20
