I came to faster each time he killed me, and it was completely freaking him out. He didn’t leave my cell anymore. It reeked of blood and decay, and Ares’ anger and fear permeated the air.
I could use that. Hopefully.
I woke up after my most recent death, in which Ares had eviscerated me, to find him standing in front of me, looking deranged. He still held the knife he’d used on me. My innards, or, I guess my old innards, still strewn on the floor around me.
God, his fear was good.
It fed me, and my power rose quickly. I was cold, and all I craved was his death.
Except, when I killed him, he’d stay dead.
"You’re supposed to be mortal. Why the hell won’t you stay dead?" he asked, and his voice was wavery. A muscle at the corner of his eye ticked.
"Clearly, I’m not mortal anymore, dumbass," I muttered. "So killing me is a waste of time. I'm the only truly fucking immortal thing here."
In retrospect, that was probably a dumb thing to say.
He knew (I was able to read his thoughts clearly now. Either his fear and growing insanity had weakened his ability to shield his mind, or I was getting stronger) that keeping me weak meant killing me, but that each death saw me reviving faster. And I was becoming a little harder to kill with each death.
They still hurt like a bitch, though.
He went into a frenzy of stabbing and slashing, cursing, and soon, everything faded away again.
When I surfaced again, I wanted his death so badly I could taste it. Thoughts of devouring his still-warm heart, of wearing a coat of his leathered flesh, of making him watch as I fed his entrails to Cerberus… these are the thoughts I had as I came to life again. I felt sick, tried to shove them away. Aside from the constant pain, the terror of having my life and power snatched away when they were just out of my grasp, these thoughts of violence and cruelty were more and more present. And while I knew they were justified, they still scared me.
A few times, I came back and had no idea who I was; failed to recover my memories before he killed me again.
I lived in fear now (when I was alive, that is) of losing myself completely. What if this thing I was during my worst moments became all that was left of me?
I shook the thoughts off. There would be a time and place to think about my mental state. This definitely wasn't it. I needed to find a way to escape before I worried about whether I was off my rocker or not.
I sensed for Ares. He was not with me, for once, though I could hear voices just outside of my cell. I listened, straining to figure out who he was talking to. I tried to stay still and calm. My power was growing by leaps now. Yes.
"What are you telling me? You can't kill her? The God of War can't kill one insignificant girl?"
I tried to place the voice. I knew I'd heard it before, but my mind was still groggy.
"You haven't been listening! She keeps coming back. They lied to everyone. She's no mortal. And she gets stronger," he said, and I reveled in the fear in his voice. "She's like a rabid pit bull. She won't let go. And once she rips into me…"
"What in the Nether is a pit bull?" the voice asked, and I placed it, then: Dionysus.
How the hell was he free?
Oh, fuck. This was bad. Who else was out? My aunt? The Nosoi?
Damn it.
My power increased in relation to my anger. Nearly there.
"She needs to breathe, doesn't she?"
"What?" Ares asked.
"Air. She needs to breathe air," Dionysus said, irritation in his voice.
"Of course."
"Well. There's a weakness. I'm sure you'll figure out something."
"Why don't we try to use her? I want the gateway open. She's the only one who--"
"Are you insane, man? You just told me she's getting stronger, and she undoubtedly hates you. You think you can use her?" he gave a derisive laugh and I heard Ares growl.
Then it got quiet. "She is awake," I heard Ares mutter. Damn it. I tried to focus, silently pleaded with my power to grow faster. I sent a prayer, begged the Universe or whatever beings were out there that granted wishes to just let me out of this. I'm not usually the praying type. Desperation. My power sang within me. Maybe, this time. Hope started to swell within me along with my power.
"Take care of it. I don't want to hear any more about the abomination. My father has promised me Hades' place, once we complete the next phase. She cannot be alive to interfere, Ares."
"Why don't you kill her, then?" Ares asked.
"Fine. Let me show you how it's done."
Almost.
And Ares and Dionysus stalked into the room. I let loose my power, blasted fire at Ares, and he screamed. So intent was I on punishing my tormentor that I stupidly forgot about Dionysus.
And ignored the fact that he now carried Ares' sword, and was stalking toward me. I didn't even notice him until he hefted the sword..
And then I was gone again, but at least I smelled Ares' flesh burning as I died.
Chapter Seven
When I woke up, the first thing I felt was a heavy weight on my chest. The second thing I felt was dirt in my mouth, and it made me gag immediately.
The next thing I noticed was that I couldn’t breathe.
It was cold, and opening my eyes made no difference. There was no doubt about it.
The bastards had buried me.
I started to panic, tried to force myself to be calm. My hands were chained behind my back. I couldn’t move anything.
With no air, I felt myself fading away again, along with any hope I had of getting home.
I came back, again and again and again, only to suffocate and die again.
Was this the rest of my existence? Coming back only to suffocate and die? There was no air. No time for me to rebuild my powers before I faded away again.
At some point, I stopped panicking when I came back. I took the brief moments available to me to think of Brennan. I mourned the children we’d never make, the fact that I’d never again wake up with his warm body pressed against mine. I’d never see his smile again, or the way his eyes sparkled when he teased me. I felt tears forming, my chest aching with something other than lack of oxygen. And then, I died again.
It just went on. Unlike when Ares had been murdering me, I had no hope now. I could not get myself out of wherever he’d buried me. I couldn’t move, and I suffocated too quickly to regain any of my powers. I could have blasted the soil around me with my rage, if only I’d had the power to back it up with. I’d tried calling out to Artemis and my parents with my mind, but I had no idea if it worked. And, even if it did, I had no idea where Ares had buried me.
Each time I woke up, I felt a little more of who I was, die. I held on to Brennan’s memory, because he was the only thing worth hanging onto. I sent another silent prayer: I’d give anything, anything at all, if it meant getting a chance to make my way back to him. And I died again.
My next few resurrections were flashes of memory, bits of my life, re-lived.
Nain, lifetimes ago, telling me "The stuff you can do….you don’t even know what you’re capable of yet. You can make bad things happen, and you have no idea how bad you could be."
Brennan: "Some things just can’t be controlled. And that’s when instinct takes over."
Eunomia: "Do what you do best. Destroy them."
Brennan: "You’re not the monster you think you are." And me answering: "No. I’m much worse."
Hades: "You are at your best, at your strongest, when you are protecting something you care about. Your mind is clear; your power is focused. You are unstoppable."
Brennan: "I love you. I gave myself to you a long time ago. Because, no matter whether you can love me back or not, you’re mine in a way no one else ever has been or ever will be. Your essence, you, are so much a part of me that when you’re in pain, it hurts me. When you’re hungry, I want to feed you. When you’re cold, I want to make you warm again."
I had no doubt anymore that I was
not so much a body that was home to a soul, but a soul that wore a body. And my soul belonged to someone, and there was not a chance in any realm known to the gods that he would ever give up on me.
And I needed him. He was worth fighting for. I craved his warmth, the way he soothed me.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't also crave revenge. The screams and terror of my enemies.
I came to each time now faster, stayed awake longer as long as I didn't let myself be taken over by panic. Something was happening. I began to focus, not so much on the suffocating sensation of the soil of the Nether, but on the feel of the Nether itself surrounding me: its power, which had welcomed me, surrounded me, empowered me each and every time I'd stepped through the gateway from my realm and come home to its embrace.
I'd feared that power. Worried about losing myself in it.
Now, I surrendered to it, sensing, somehow, that it was the only way to save myself and get back to the one thing I couldn't live without.
I stopped fighting. Not because I wasn't still enraged and determined to make my way home, but because the Nether itself was soothing me, cocooning me.
Empowering me.
My grave became a womb, my death merely a rebirth.
The Nether became my lifeline, and I held onto it. The power suffusing the very soil around me, the languid pulse of its energy, like a mother's heartbeat.
I absorbed its power, felt it flow alongside my own, alongside the powers I'd taken from others. I felt my body strengthen. I felt peace settle over me, even as I plotted my revenge.
Child of the Nether.
That was me, in more ways than one. The Nether is powerful. Cruel. Unforgiving. Vengeful.
I felt its power suffuse me, and I thanked it.
There is a price, I felt, more than heard it tell me.
No price is too high, I told it. All I could think of was destruction. And then, getting home.
It will be so, child of Mine.
And I focused, and gave thanks, and my power built within me.
I felt the soil rumble, just barely, around my stiff, frozen body. Stones shifted beneath me, pushing sharply into my back.
It was a start. I faded away again, knowing freedom would be mine.
When I woke, I let my power build, released it in a burst, felt my body tumble within the soil as it heaved beneath me before I lost my grip on life again.
Once again, Brennan was with me. I wept when I revived again and felt him, warm and steady. I pushed as much love as I could into our connection, and felt him respond in kind.
Our connection flared, stronger, brighter, and I smiled as I died one more time.
One more time.
The Nether showed me things as I floated in and out of life. Things I could do that I'd never even considered. Ways to make my enemies pay. Ways to make myself stronger. Cocooned within it, I learned, finally, everything I'm capable of.
I could have laughed. And I gave thanks again that out of all the beings the Nether could have chosen, It shared Its secrets with me.
I let my power build again and released it in another burst. Felt my body dance with flames that did not burn me, felt soil and rock blasted from my body.
And, just above me, the sweet promise of fresh air.
I focused hard, felt the soil of the Nether shift again.
Cool air hit my face, and I tried to drink it in in huge gulps.
Unfortunately my lungs were full of soil and who knows what else.
I rolled over, threw up mud, blood, muck. I heaved, and it hurt, but I let it hurt.
I was alive.
I was free.
Once I was empty, I rolled back over onto my back, stared up at the amethyst sky of the Nether. There was a price. I could feel the Nether in my soul, another connection, running alongside the connection I had with Brennan. Where his felt warm and strong, the Nether felt cold.
It was a good cold.
It gave me life.
It would help me harness my rage. And I would be the terror I was always meant to be.
I laid there a while longer, exalting in the feel of fresh air surrounding my filthy body, the sensation of breathing. My eyes adjusted to sight after so long in the dark. As I rested, I felt my power building, filling me, finally, after too long barely straddling emptiness. I let it build, and I laid there, and thought about all the things I would do, now that I had another chance. Part of me was gone, destroyed by the things I'd experienced since Ares ambushed me. I didn't know if I'd ever get it back. There was an emptiness in me that hadn't been there before, and I didn't know what that would mean. I felt cold, inside and out. Partly because of the Nether living within me, partly because of everything I'd gone through.
I'd make it work. That's what I do, I told myself as I stared up at the sky and enjoyed the sensation of breathing.
Once my power had built enough, I pulled my arms apart, hard, snapping the chain between the manacles on my wrists. I brought my arms to the front of my body, for the first time in who knew how long, and my shoulders and back protested at the change of position. I sat up and stretched my arms, flexed my wings. A bit more brute force, and I was able to snap the iron from my wrists and ankles. When I finally stood on shaky, trembling legs, I felt like an infant standing on its own for the first time.
I stood, and breathed. I closed my eyes, sensed for Brennan's connection. Still there. Still warm, and strong. I focused for a moment, let myself feel him. Let myself focus on what really mattered so I wouldn't lose myself in what came next.
I was the child of prophecy. My coming would destroy the world of the gods.
Not that I would kill them.
Well.
Not all of them anyway.
I held onto Brennan's warmth, memories of the best moments of my life (which had been with him, coincidentally) for as long as it took to center myself. Then I opened my eyes when I felt centered again.
I looked down at myself, at my blood-crusted, muddy, torn and shredded clothing. At my filthy skin, lank hair.
I needed a shower badly. And clothing. But there was no time, and I had things to do. My enemies didn't rest, and neither could I.
I focused, and the next time I looked down, I looked as strong and together as I needed to. Immaculately crisp black uniform and boots. Glistening wings. My long dark hair flowed down over my shoulders. Enchantment, and nothing more, a trick the Nether had taught me as I made my way back to life. I could still feel the crud and mess on my body. But I could damn well at least look like I had my shit together.
I looked at my clothing again, and smiled. Then I focused again, and there I was: Jeans, black long-sleeved top, and Chucks. If I was going to be me, then I was gonna be me all the way. As I looked at my shoes, I noticed a smooth black stone near my left foot. I picked it up, tucked it into my pocket.
I held out my hand, and my sword appeared in it. I looked around, listened, sensed. There was no thunder, no screaming, and I recognized this part of the woods as being not terribly far from where I'd first resurrected. I walked toward where I knew my father's home was.
As I got closer, the fact that the streets were mostly deserted was the first thing I noticed.
The second thing I noticed was that demons and these weird flying things that kind of looked like cherubs patrolled the tall iron gate around Hades' home, which was still in the same charred, dilapidated state it had been in the last time I'd seen it. The gate was closed; something that I'd never seen before.
As I got closer, the patrolling guards saw me.
I felt their responses, even before I saw the hungry grins spread across the faces of the demons. The cherub things started to shout and charge me, but the demons intercepted, battling their Aether counterparts to keep my path unobstructed. One of them opened the gate after knocking his opponent out.
"Pleasure to have you back, my Lady," he said in a deep growl. I nodded at him and he saluted me.
"Who is in there?" I asked him.
"Pretty much all of them."
"Good." I glanced around. "Keep them off my back, will you?"
"It would be an honor, my Lady," he said. He smiled, bowed, and went away to fight some more.
I walked to the front door, pulled the heavy charred wood slabs open. Two of the demons were at my back, and as cherub guards from inside the house came at me, they both intercepted and destroyed my would-be attackers. I ignored them all and continued on to Hades' formal reception area. It was kind of like a throne room, I guess. Except that in his receiving room, no one, including Hades, ever sat. They stood. Mostly because comfort was for the weak. Also, if they had to stand, they'd be reminded that no matter how big they were, my father was bigger and scarier.
They could feel me. I smiled again, and my demon guards laughed when they saw it, cut down more of the Aether guards. They each pulled open one of the double doors that led into my father's throne room, and I strode through.
Yes. There they were, indeed. Except that my father's throne room was changed. There was now a gaudy golden throne on the dais, and Dionysus' wormy self sat on it. I scanned the room. My father, mother, aunt Megaera, Artemis, Apollo, Asclepias, Athena, Aphrodite, and a few others sat along one wall, chained (manacles were part of the décor, meant to accommodate those waiting for Hades' judgment) but looking defiant. My aunt Alecto, traitorous bitch, was using her powers to keep the captured gods under control. We Furies are the few beings in existence who can control the gods, thanks to our ability to do really nasty things with their minds. As I entered the room, I saw my father and mother exchange a glance, and Tisiphone smiled. Chained with them, surprisingly, were Zeus and Hera. I surveyed the rest of the room. Several of the Nosoi. A few other minor gods who had been captured by my mother and aunt. The Guardians I hadn't killed.
And, standing to the left of Dionysus' pretender throne, Ares.
He stared at me.
And he trembled.
And fear flooded me, from him.
A few of the Guardians rushed me. I waved a hand at them and they simply fell to dust. Then it was Alecto's turn, and she met the same fate.
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