Fates and Furies (The Sphinx Book 4)

by Raye Wagner

  He could see threads? Hope’s jaw dropped, and she stared at her friend. “The ones the Fates weave?” Hope looked around the room, wishing the threads would appear for her, but the lair Hephaestus had brought them to remained exactly as it had first appeared.

  “Excellent,” Hephaestus said. “Come here, and I will show you.” He closed his eyes and rested his hands on his abdomen. With a deep breath in and out, he looked like he was meditating. He extended his hands, palms up, and opened his eyes. “Do you see it?”

  There was nothing there.

  “Aye,” Xan said in a voice filled with wonder.

  The god pinched his forefinger and thumb together on each hand and extended the invisible string toward Xan. “Cut it, just inside my thumbs.”

  Xan snipped at the air, and Hephaestus caught it. He extended his empty hand to Xan. “Do you have a safe place to put it?”

  Xan shook his head. “Only my pockets.”

  Hephaestus went to the other side of the room and pulled out a leather pouch the size of Hope’s fist. He opened it and dipped his fingers inside. When he closed the flap over the top, the sound of two magnets snapping together echoed through the chamber. “Put this somewhere safe. You may never be able to use it, but it may come in handy someday.”

  Hope watched in awe, her mind reeling with the possibilities of what she was seeing.

  Xan took the proffered bag and attached it to his belt.

  Hephaestus retrieved the sword he’d had moments before. “Olympus is only for the immortal, and these weapons have been crafted for such. This sword will kill any being, except one of the twelve. However, its power will only last for one kill, so use it wisely.” He pulled down a shield big enough for a man to hide behind. “This will deflect even the power of the gods. I hope you will not need it, but I suspect you will.”

  Xan accepted the shield. “Let me guess. It’s only good for one blast?”

  Hephaestus nodded. “Only the twelves’ weapons are stronger, and alas, even you, son of Ares, would not be able to lift the weapons of the gods.” He extended his hand and swept it the length of the wall opposite them. The weapons hanging there were taller than Athan and wider than Xan. “I’m sorry. These are the best I can offer you.”

  Hephaestus turned to Hope and said, “Your curse will be sufficient protection. If you succeed in breaking it, you must get off Olympus as fast as you can.”

  Hope nodded, a little disappointed she wasn’t getting a weapon.

  “Let me ask you, Daughter of Leto, what will you do when the curse is broken?”

  It was a question Hope had only started pondering after returning from the Underworld. “Go to school, grow up, hopefully get married one day, and have a family.”

  Hephaestus stroked his beard. “Would you change the world?”

  At first, Hope was inclined to brush off the question with a simple negative answer, but as she opened her mouth to reply, the significance of the god’s query settled. “I’ve always said I didn’t want to change anything but the curse. Apollo placed it out of retaliation, and it has limited my agency and that of my ancestors. But I’m not the only one. Poseidon said the power of the gods on Olympus is unchecked. If Hera unbinds the Underworld, would that provide more balance?”

  As she spoke, Hephaestus’s lips turned up in a tentative smile that spread the longer she spoke. “Perhaps. If it didn’t, and you had sufficient power, would you take up residence on Olympus to make sure things stayed fair?”

  Hope considered it for less than a nanosecond. With the utmost courtesy, she carefully picked her words. “Certainly there are others far more qualified.” When the god raised his eyebrows, Hope answered. “I really don’t want that power or that responsibility.”

  Hephaestus went to a heavy chest by the wall and heaved as he lifted the heavy lid. He rummaged through the contents for several minutes.

  Hope shot Xan a look. Her eyes were full of questions, but he just shrugged, and both turned back to the god when he shouted with triumph.

  Hephaestus waved her forward and, holding out a slim silver case, said, “I would offer you these.”

  The box was slightly smaller than her old cell phone, and not quite as thick. He pressed on a slim inset tab, and the case popped open. Inside was a teardrop-shaped piece of metal nestled in black fabric. She pulled the tool out and saw that it unfolded like a pocketknife. But this wasn’t a blade. Attached to the metal base was a thin wire loop. There was also a small set of scissors with handles the color of fire and smoke, and a slim needle. It looked like a sewing kit, but surely was not . . .

  She held out the wire loop tool. “What is it?”

  Hephaestus clapped his hands and, in a booming voice, he asked, “Are you ready?”

  Hope wasn’t sure if he was being deliberately obtuse or if he was just ready for them to be gone. She snapped the small metal instrument shut and put it back in its case. With any luck, she’d be able to figure out what the device was supposed to do if she needed it. More than anything, she didn’t want to need it. Shoving the thin case into her back pocket, she looked to Xan.

  He winked and asked, “Are ye ready, lass?”

  Together they could do this. She grabbed his hand and faced the exiled Olympian. “Yes.”

  “Good luck,” Hephaestus said, and his voice faded as the forge and heat disappeared.

  The fresh air nipped at her skin as the heat from Hephaestus’s forge leached from her skin, and Hope shivered. She and Xan stood in a vibrant meadow of white and purple wildflowers that covered the rolling hills surrounding them. The branches of a weeping willow swayed in the breeze, and a wide dirt path wound out of the valley and toward the base of a huge mountain. All around the base were vibrantly painted buildings, and as Hope looked up, the buildings changed, becoming larger and paler. And then mist obscured the rest of the height of what could only be Mount Olympus.

  “Look!” Hope pointed toward the path. “That’s where we need to—”

  “Shh!” Xan hissed as he scanned the valley. Still gripping the sword Hephaestus had given him, Xan grabbed Hope’s shirt and pulled her close. His lips tickled her ear as he whispered, “There is no way Olympus is unguarded.”

  She should’ve been terrified because she knew he was right. But they were so close, and there was nothing in the meadow, and the blue sky was beautiful. She was so excited because they were finally here.

  Hope pursed her lips to prevent her excitement from escaping. She raised her eyebrows, and her smile widened as she nodded at him, her entire body bouncing with the movement. Inclining her head toward the mountain, she pulled him in the direction of the path.

  The grass and blooms were still wet with morning dew, and in a few minutes, Hope’s shoes and pants legs were soaked through. The temperature stayed cool, but Hope was grateful for the brisk air.

  Xan relaxed a little, the tension in his shoulders melting away as they walked on undisturbed. He carried the shield but sheathed the broadsword at his back.

  The road was farther than Hope thought. After walking for several minutes, she turned to look at the willow tree to try to gauge how far they’d come. She frowned in confusion and pointed behind them.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” she whispered, waving her arm at the tree. “We’re still about the same distance from the tree and not any closer to the road.”

  Xan shook his head and grimaced. “Shite.”

  But he didn’t look surprised. Why did he not look surprised? And why was he not whispering anymore? “What’s going on?”

  “Bloody gods on their bloody thrones.” He looked up into the sky. “We’re here! Whatever test you need to send, please do it now and stop wasting our time, eh?”

  Hope gasped. What was wrong with him? Xan had always been deferential to the gods, or at least respectful. And they were requesting an audience. Didn’t he understand?

  A gust of air pushed Hope, making her sway on her feet. As she regained her footing, another gust, stronger
than the first, barreled into her. A loud screeching sound, followed by the bleating of a goat and the roar of a lion, filled the air, the three animals creating a cacophony of sound.

  “Shite!” Xan pulled out the broadsword and jumped in front of Hope with the shield just as a flying serpent breathed fire.

  At her.

  The air went from cool to blistering in a second, and Hope squealed as her pants steamed, releasing the remaining moisture from the morning dew.

  The beast swept past them, and Hope got her first look at the attacking monster.

  “I thought the Chimaera was dead,” she said.

  Xan glanced at her and shook his head. “Bloody gods.”

  She had a single immortal blade from Athan, and that was it. “Give me your daggers.”

  He lifted his occupied arms, and she guessed that was an invitation. Darting forward, she reached for the blades and remembered she’d left one in Ares’s stomach before they’d been removed from his temple. She pulled the single immortal knife from its sheath at Xan’s waist. “I bet you wish you’d let me keep my knives now.”

  Xan snorted but kept his gaze on the circling beast. “I think you have one of them in your hand, and you can’t fight with more than two. Now, heads up.”

  Hope watched the Chimaera circle the meadow. The lion and goat watched the ground, and the serpent coiled and writhed. Then its head drew back.

  “He’s coming back for a second strike,” Xan yelled.

  Then the ground shook, and both Hope and Xan stumbled to maintain their footing.

  “What the Hades?” Xan darted glances around the valley and back to the air. “I can’t see it!”

  “Focus on the Chimaera—”

  A thundering squeal echoed through the valley.

  Xan’s face paled. He crossed to Hope and yelled over the din, “Do you want the Chimaera or the Erymanthian Boar?”

  His weapon would work for either animal, but the small blades she held would only work in close proximity. Her hands grew slick, and she sucked in a deep breath. “Neither.”

  “Funny,” Xan said, shaking his head. “You’d best take the boar. Just don’t let him gore you, right?”

  So much for her curse providing her protection. “Right.”

  She scanned the horizon, waiting for the animal to bear down on them. The thundering of hooves drew closer, and the black, hairy beast crested the hilltop and squealed again.

  She’d have to trust that Xan would keep the Chimaera off her back while she slayed the legendary boar. And she would likewise need to keep the huge pig away from him. Hope ran toward the willow tree as the monstrous beast closed in from the other side.

  The creature was at least as big as a horse, and two to three times as thick. He was surprisingly fast for his girth, and Hope tried to calculate where best to meet his attack. Her weapons would only be effective if she could bury them deep. If she drove the dagger straight into his chest, the blade should pierce its heart. Or his eye into his brain. Eye. Chest. Eye. Chest.

  At forty paces and closing, the boar’s stench hit her, unwashed animal and rotting meat. Its beady eyes gleamed in anticipation, and it squealed in its final charge.

  Hope flung Athan’s blade at the animal’s chest, and the knife sunk deep into the muscle of the boar’s front leg. But the animal didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow his charge.

  And she had only one knife left, which meant one strike. She had to kill it. Eye. Chest. Eye.

  The boar crashed into her, and the force felt like a semitruck. Pain exploded through her, its intensity too great to even have an epicenter. Hope screamed as she drove the knife deep into the animal’s eye. The boar’s screech was deafening, and Hope pushed the blade deeper until it was buried to the hilt. She pulled it as far to the left as she could, the blade slicing through tissue like butter, and then pushed it all the way to the right. Her vision tunneled, but she yanked the weapon out and drove it in again. Again and again. She couldn’t even see the beast’s eyes anymore, but she continued to bury the blade into the animal until the squeals stopped and the beast collapsed . . . on her. The hilt of the other blade was pressing on her stomach, and she slid her hand, slick with blood, down to try to move it. The pain was incredible, and spots floated over her vision.

  She wanted to get the animal off and grunted as she tried to move it. She simply couldn’t move the cursed creature. The hairy beast was dead weight on top of her. Hope pushed her hands under the animal, but every time she tensed her abdomen to use her core strength, she gasped in pain. Something wasn’t right. The pain pulsed with her heartbeat, and tears leaked down her cheeks.

  “Bloody hell. You better still be alive under there, Hope.” Xan’s voice was tight with irritation. “If you’re dead, I’m going to be bloody boiling.”

  The pressure lifted from her chest, and Hope sucked in a breath. She could taste ash and dirt, as well as the rank smell of the boar. The earth shook when the boar landed on the ground beside her.

  A gash ran from Xan’s chin to his cheek, the blood already starting to crust over, but the furrow of his brow relaxed when he saw Hope’s face. “You all right, princess?”

  She wanted to laugh. She wanted to jump up and give him a hug and tell him thanks. But the pain in her abdomen . . . She shut her eyes and put her hands over the now clear epicenter of her agony.

  “Aw, bells. You got gored, didn’t you?” He knelt by her side and pulled her hands away from the wound. He swore again as he pulled his shirt off and turned it inside out. “It’s all right. Put this here. The bleeding will stop. You’re immortal.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure her or convince himself. Either way, it wasn’t working. As he held his shirt to her abdomen, she realized he was using both hands to apply pressure. “Where’s your sword?”

  Xan brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Always wanting my weapons, aren’t you? I used it to kill the Chimaera, and it turned to ash. My knives are gone, too. When we get back, you’ll owe me a new set.”

  She nodded, or she tried to nod. The pain wasn’t as bad as it had been only seconds before, and heaviness settled across her midsection, making her lower extremities go numb. Her vision blurred, and the edges dimmed, tunneled, and settled into blackness. She wanted to tell him she was sorry. She wanted to warn him that she was going to pass out. She wanted to say something. But the darkness swallowed her whole.

  Shouting pulled her from oblivion, and Hope peeled her eyes open.

  “She’s. Not. Dead,” Xan said, standing over her body. He waved back a woman dressed in a white chiton. The tattoos covering his back and arms danced in and out of focus with the movement of his muscles as he moved to block the woman from getting any closer to Hope.

  The tall woman’s long auburn curls danced in the breeze, and the hem of her chiton rose and fell all the way up the slit to her knees. Vibrant green eyes, reminiscent of Hephaestus, were framed by long black lashes, but the eyes were the only similarity between the god of blacksmiths and this deity. Where Hephaestus was rough and considered imperfect, this goddess was strikingly flawless. Her skin was roses and cream, and she had high cheekbones, an elegant neck, and pink bow lips. Her sculpted features made it clear she was a goddess.

  “I’m only here to welcome you, Son of Ares.” The musical lilt of her voice was ringing crystal. “We should get your companion to Olympus so the healers may attend to her.”

  Xan’s shoulders tightened. “You have healers on Olympus?”

  Hope put her hand to her abdomen. The puncture wound from the tusk of the boar was only a puckering of her skin. In another minute, she would be healed.

  The goddess tilted her head to the side, studying Xan, but her condescending smile was betrayed by the tightening of her shoulders and the hardness of her features. “Of course.”

  She was lying. Why would they have healers on Olympus?

  Hope sat up, and her vision swam out of focus. The colors blurred, the blues and greens and whites
turning to a fuzzy gray, and the goddess became only a hazy figure. Hope braced her hands on the ground to stay upright.

  “Surely you don’t expect her to stay here on the ground, young demigod. She will heal much better in her own room, in her own bed.”

  Hope could feel Xan beside her, hear his feet moving in the grass as he shifted his weight. She wanted to protest, wanted to wait until she was better before entering the hall of the gods. She wanted her wits about her, and she couldn’t even keep her eyes open without getting nauseated.

  She reached forward, grasping the denim of his pants leg and tugging to get his attention.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  Xan knelt before her, cupping her face with his hands. “You’re awake.” He brushed her cheeks with his thumbs. “Are you all right? Are you well enough to stand?”

  She blinked again and again, but her vision would not come into focus. Hope shook her head, and her stomach roiled. When she clenched her hands to her stomach, her balance was thrown off, making her sway. Through clenched teeth, she said, “I can’t see.”

  The goddess cleared her throat. “If you’re not going to come up to Olympus, would you like me to put you back in the mortal realm?”

  The ground vibrated with the tapping of her foot, and Hope wanted to hit her to make her stop.

  “We’d better go,” Hope whispered to Xan. “It’s why we’re here. I don’t want to have to fight something else to come back.”

  Xan snorted, but he knelt down and put his shoulder under Hope’s arm. “We can do this,” he said as he practically lifted her to her feet. He shifted Hope to his side then said to the goddess, “We’re ready.”

  The goddess sighed, an impatient huff. “Right,” she snapped. “Let’s go.”

  She reached forward and grabbed Hope’s wrist in one hand and Xan’s wrist in the other. With a jolt, they transported, landing on a polished white marble floor in a long hall. The goddess released her grip with a sniff and wiped her hands on the front of her dress.