“What the …?”
The heavy wooden door slammed shut behind her, with Greco and Flip still on the other side. She was alone.
********
Greco tugged at the ring, using his foot as leverage against the wall, but the door didn’t budge. He pounded on the wood but accomplished nothing other than bruising his fists and perhaps breaking a knuckle or two.
“Flip, get us in that room. Now!” Greco yelled, while still trying to force open the door. When he got no response, he turned to find the god staring, slack-jawed, into space.
“What the hell is wrong with you? She’s on her own in there.” Greco grabbed his shoulders and shook.
“They’re all in there. All of them,” Flip muttered. “I saw them. They’re waiting for me, and they brought the … the … the horse.” His already pale skin turned a shade whiter as he fell against the wall.
“What are you talking about?” Greco’s frustration reached the point of anger. “Who’s waiting for you?”
“The higher gods. They’re behind that door.” Flip looked as though he might vomit.
Greco reached out to get a hold of the god before he went catatonic. “No, it’s not them. I saw inside, too. It was the warehouse my mother used to go to when she got drunk. Even the smell was the same.” His gag reflex engaged at his childhood memory.
Flip blinked his eyes several times before snapping out of his state of fear. “You didn’t see the gods. Or the horse?”
“No. You didn’t see the warehouse?” Greco asked.
Flip shook his head. “I think I know what’s really behind that door. Our own personal hells. Our greatest fears. Our worst nightmares.”
No. He needed to be in there with her. “Oh, God. Mirissa isn’t ready for that. You’ve got to teleport us inside. Now.”
Flip nodded, but nothing happened.
“What are you waiting for?” Greco was nearing hysteria. Mirissa needed him, and he stood impotent a few short feet away.
“It’s not working. Why isn’t it working?” Flips eyes widened with fear.
It took only a moment for understanding to dawn on Greco.
“Because Mirissa’s greatest fear is being too weak to succeed by herself. Her worst nightmare is to go into battle alone.”
Chapter 35
Eris strode into the great hall with Daedric in tow. As usual, Zeus had his posterior firmly planted on his throne, a scowl etched across his face. Most of the seats in the room were vacant, leaving only the true sycophants still fawning over their king. The one god she hadn’t expected to see, stood in the center of them all.
“Hecate,” Eris called out. “What an unexpected surprise. I take it you’re searching for me. Well, it’s your lucky day.” She took a deep and very dramatic bow. “Here I am, at your service.”
Zeus rose slowly from his throne, his staff extended before him. “You have a lot of nerve coming here. And bringing a half-breed to my hall, no less.”
One side of Eris’s mouth curled up in a smirk. “Oh, Zeus. Still as shortsighted as ever. You continue to disappoint me. I thought, after five thousand years, you would have managed to become slightly more intelligent. I see I was mistaken.” Eris endeavored to commit the look on Zeus’s face to memory. His perfect features contorted into a mask of fury, creating an image she would treasure for eternity.
The other occupants of the room appeared equally horrified at her outburst, although not for the same reason as their leader. No, they were simply terrified of being caught in the midst of the inevitable deadly confrontation.
“Boo!” Eris screeched, then threw her head back in laughter as every onlooker jolted in their seats. Many teleported out immediately, while the rest appeared torn between their loyalty to Zeus, and their desire to live.
“Enough!” Zeus bellowed, as a bolt of lightning shot from the ornate crystal attached to the end of his golden staff.
Eris casually sidestepped the attack, making a show of not being the least bit scared. A glance over her shoulder revealed her companion hadn’t fared so well. Daedric swatted at what remained of his sleeve, clopping around like a child, as a tiny plume of smoke twirled in the air.
With her gaze never leaving Zeus, she spoke to her nephew in a low tone. “I would appreciate it if you could pull yourself together.”
“Pull myself together? I almost got fried by a lightning bolt. I’d appreciate it if you would make sure that doesn’t happen again,” Daedric whined.
Eris pushed aside her sudden urge to disembowel the little brat and returned her focus to Zeus. “You and I have unfinished business.”
“I have no business with you, Eris,” Zeus responded in his standard condescending tone. “I suggest you leave here before you cross a line you can never uncross.”
“But crossing lines is my specialty,” Eris snorted. “And this one I never want to uncross.” A collective gasp filled the room as she manifested the scythe. “You used this blade to slaughter your father. I’m sure, if he were able, he’d be watching with glee as I use it to slaughter you. Don’t you just love the irony?”
Zeus growled his response but stopped short of using actual words when Eris teleported to his side, the scythe positioned so the tip rested on his cheek. She watched as the arrogance drained from his body, replaced by a fear he probably hadn’t felt since the Titans ruled the realms.
“I’ll give you credit. I thought for certain you’d flee. Simply teleport from place to place, until I eventually caught up with you. Which, of course, I would. Although I’m saddened to have this end so quickly, I’m also impressed.”
Zeus glowered at her through squinting eyes. “I don’t run from anyone.”
“But you should, Eris,” came familiar voice, taunting her from across the room.
She turned to see Artemis, arrow nocked in her bow, sizing up her prey. A moment later, Athena joined her, followed by Hera, Styx, and Persephone.
Eris looked behind her to see Daedric skulking by the doorway. “Next time, perhaps a little warning would be in order, nephew.” She glared at him with a look she hoped broadcast her deep disappointment. When he’d cringed enough to satisfy her, she turned toward the new arrivals and smiled.
“Let the games begin.”
Chapter 36
Mirissa stared in awe at the scene surrounding her—Daedric gloating over his ingenious trap, while his captives waited for her to rescue them. Every detail of the calamity she’d caused, replicated to perfection.
She’d been so arrogant, choosing to confront the demi-god alone instead of enlisting the Omega Group’s help. How could she have been so stupid? Yes, she had incredible powers, but that didn’t make up for her immaturity and hubris.
“You have me, now let them go,” she heard herself say. Those were her exact words when she’d entered the game room three months prior.
“I don’t believe I can do that. You see, young Mirissa, Grainger betrayed me when he helped the Omega group escape their safe house. His fate, and the beautiful Meghan’s, was a foregone conclusion. Your father and his Navy friends sealed their own fates when they broke into my home. What kind of example would I be setting for my men if I simply let them walk away?” Daedric said, as though following the script from their initial encounter.
Mirissa knew exactly how this would all play out but couldn’t stop herself from saying and doing the same foolish things she’d done the first time. Minute by agonizing minute, she reenacted every mistake she’d made, until Daedric gave the order that would forever be ingrained in her memory.
“Shoot the one on the left,” he said.
Lincoln’s chest exploded as the bullet tore through him. His gaze locked on hers, full of the accusation she knew she deserved, as he crumpled to the floor. “How could you let this happen to me?” he said, departing from the script. “I tried to help you, and this is what I get?”
“I’m sorry,” Mirissa cried. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I made a terrible mistake.” Mirissa wrap
ped her arms around her chest as tears streaked down her face. What have I done? Before she had time to answer, the scene reset itself.
“You have me, now let them go,” she heard herself say again.
Over and over, Mirissa replayed the worst excerpt of her life. Each time, Lincoln’s final words grew more hateful—and well deserved—than the last. Try as she might, she couldn’t change the outcome. An innocent man, a decorated Navy SEAL, murdered because she lacked the strength to save him.
But she didn’t. Not anymore. She’d learned from her mistakes. She understood her weaknesses. She’d never again be so arrogant as to think she could handle a situation like that on her own.
Mirissa collapsed to the floor as Lincoln’s latest acerbic words washed over her. “Stop!” she yelled. “Please, stop.” It did no good. Like a demonic DVR set on a vicious loop, the sequence rewound.
“You have me, now let them go,” she said.
Mirissa, you can do this. I feel your anguish. Fight through whatever is happening to you.
Her mother’s voice came from inside her head, obscuring Daedric’s.
We believe in you, sweetheart. Our entire tribe joined me on Tritonia so I could reach you. Do your best. That’s all anyone can ask.
Mirissa went through the motions of the reenactment for the umpteenth time. Every word and action the same as it had been before. The one difference was how she viewed it.
Yes, she’d made a terrible mistake going there alone, but had she chosen differently, Lincoln might still have died. Any of them could have been killed. She’d done her best, and an innocent man lost his life. But four others, including her father, had been saved.
“I’m not that person, anymore,” she yelled to no one. “I’ve made mistakes, and I’ll make some more, but that doesn’t make me weak. I’m strong enough to be on my own, and I’m strong enough to ask for help when I need it.” Mirissa brought her hands to her face, pressing her palms to her eyelids. “Show me the damn box!”
Silence. Lincoln’s latest monologue cut short.
When she opened her eyes, she stood in a small, unadorned space carved in stone, a fraction of the size of Daedric’s game room. An intricately carved metal chest sat insignificantly on the floor in front of her. She hadn’t expected a laser light show surrounding a magically hovering box, or anything, but its complete lack of fanfare was a bit of a letdown.
The creak of unused hinges drew her attention to the door behind her. As it swung open, she saw Flip, peering at her through the sliver opening between his fingers. The expression of relief on his face when he dropped his hands to his side made her laugh. Greco, who’d also looked wary at what he might see, charged through the doorway and picked her up off her feet in an enthusiastic bear hug.
“It’s all right. I’m okay,” she said, as he placed her back down.
“Of course you are. I knew you would be,” Greco lied. When he looked over her shoulder at the chest on the floor, he asked, “So, that’s it?”
“Yep. Not what I expected, either,” she answered.
Greco placed his hands on her face. “We’re running out of time.”
“What? But how …?” She looked down at her watch, shocked at what she saw. “Holy crap! I’ve been in here for almost ten hours?”
“The longest ten hours of my life,” Greco said. “But now it’s time for you to finish this.” He drew her in for another memorable kiss, before guiding her over to the box. “I’ll see you on the other side.”
Chapter 37
Artemis let loose another arrow, and it flew straight and true to her target yet still hit nothing. Eris simply teleported out of its way. She defended herself against Zeus’s lightning bolts, Hera’s energy fields, and the axe favored by Styx, in the same manner. No matter what weapon they unleashed, Eris avoided it with ease.
The first time she’d done it, she materialized, scythe in hand, right behind an unsuspecting Zeus. Had Styx not been at his side, ready to swing his axe, their ruler would have died right then. From that point forward, neither Styx nor Hera moved more than a few inches away from Zeus.
That left Artemis, Athena, and Persephone to keep Eris busy. They had no delusions about defeating the goddess of chaos, not while she held the only weapon capable of killing a god, anyway. They simply needed to stop her from using it. And keep Hecate safe long enough for her to complete her task.
Come on, Hecate. We’re running out of time.
Eris screamed at Daedric, “Get over here and help me!”
He took a tentative step forward. When Zeus unleashed a trio of lightning bolts that easily pierced the demi-god’s pathetic attempt at a shield, he appeared to think better of his choice to participate.
Artemis considered taking him out of the fight permanently, but decided against that course of action after he skulked off to the far corner. He obviously knew he wouldn’t survive the battle, and she felt no need to split her concentration when he’d clearly chosen to remove himself. Instead, she focused entirely on Eris.
Artemis loosed arrow after arrow, never hitting her mark, but keeping Eris on the move. Persephone, who’d borrowed a little something from her husband, tormented their prey by perpetually sneaking up on her, as though to steal the scythe.
When Athena came up with their plan of attack, she’d stressed how important it would be for them to steer clear of the blade. The invisibility granted by Hades’s helmet allowed Persephone to get close, but it offered no protection. Carefully judging her distance, Persephone proved a convincing distraction, repeatedly interfering with Eris’s concentration.
Athena, always the strategist, spent more time watching and analyzing than actually participating in the fight. She jabbed her spear at Eris whenever the opportunity arose but seemed more engrossed in whatever calculations she was working on.
A slight smile graced Athena’s face as she made her way over to Artemis. “For a goddess of chaos, she’s unexpectedly predictable,” she whispered.
Artemis, never taking her eyes off Eris as she loosed more arrows, spoke in a low tone. “How so?”
“Shoot five more arrows at her, and keep track of where she materializes each time,” Athena instructed.
Artemis did as she was told, memorizing the seemingly random locations. “Okay, what does it mean?”
“Repeat the same exercise,” came her only response.
Artemis grew impatient. “I’m a little busy right now, Athena. Can you maybe just tell me what you’ve discovered and hold off on the teaching opportunity until later?”
“Trust me,” she responded, apparently not hearing the annoyance behind the request.
Artemis once again did as instructed. By the time the last arrow clattered to the floor, she understood. “Set it up,” she said.
Athena spoke to each of the gods in turn, then gave a quick nod to signal their readiness.
If the pattern held true, she’d materialize directly on top of one of the scorch marks left by Zeus’s bolts. Each god covered one of the five targets, and as soon as Eris teleported out, they unleashed their weapons. Four of the five made no contact, but Athena’s spear drove deep into Eris’s gut the instant she appeared.
Eris let loose an ear-piercing scream, probably more from anger than pain. Her eyes turned wild as she lashed out at the goddess who had outsmarted her. Unfortunately, Athena’s spear proved more difficult to withdraw than expected.
Artemis saw the scythe too late. She reacted on instinct, adjusting her aim and firing. A split second later, Athena tumbled, an arrow protruding from her shoulder. The scythe slicing across her arm as she fell to the floor.
A sliver of white light shot from her wound, drawing an uncharacteristic string of curses. But, as quickly as the light had appeared, it faded away, leaving a nasty gouge in Athena’s previously unmarred flesh.
Satisfied that her friend would survive, Artemis returned her attention to Eris. Her wound almost fully healed, the goddess angrily pushed herself to her feet. Readying
for the next wave of battle, Artemis again nocked an arrow. A scream, this time from another source, stopped her from letting it loose.
“I found it!” Hecate, still monitoring her mystical conduit, jumped out from the relative safety of her hiding space. “The box—it’s in Tartarus.”
It’s about time, Artemis thought.
All eyes in the room followed Hecate’s gaze to the glittery image floating above the floor. Mirissa, flanked on either side by Flip and Greco, stood before the chest, with her key in hand.
“No!” Eris wailed, then disappeared through the floor.
Athena sighed in relief. “Well, it was a good plan.” She yanked the arrow out of her shoulder and handed it to Artemis. “Up until you shot me, of course.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Artemis said.
Hera, still standing with Zeus, cocked her head as though listening to something no one else could hear. “It’s done. Persephone’s just returned. Remind me to borrow that invisibility helmet next time Zeus calls one of his meetings. Being able to leave unnoticed could come in handy.” She patted her scowling husband on the cheek.
“Let’s hope, for Mirissa’s sake, it works,” Artemis said.
Chapter 38
Mirissa pulled the key from around her neck. The writing that had appeared on it when the box first opened once again glowed from the metal. Although the symbols were still indecipherable to her, she couldn’t forget the message they spelled out.
Your essence is mankind’s only hope.
This was it. Her destiny sat before her in the shape of an old chest. Taking a deep breath, Mirissa knelt in front of it, running her hand along the beautiful designs decorating its surface. I can do this. She held the key in her trembling hand, paused for a moment, then jammed it in the lock before she had time to change her mind.
Pandora (Book 3) (The Omega Group) Page 17
