Unseen

by Amber Lynn Natusch

“Did you hear me?” she asked, confusion in her tone.

  “Yes. Thank you for letting me know.”

  “What should we do?”

  “You should entertain my brothers and keep them out of trouble,” I replied without looking back at her.

  Her riotous laughter let me know that she rather enjoyed my plan. Oz’s immediate presence at my side in the hallway, however, told me that he was less amused with my quick dismissal of them.

  “You’re up to something,” he snarled under his breath. “I can see it in your eyes.”

  “You see grief. Nothing more.”

  “No,” he replied, grabbing my arms and pinning me to the stony wall. “I see anger and recklessness, two things that I’m far more versed in than you. You think you can fool me, but you cannot. This is not the time for foolhardy actions, new girl.”

  “Your advice has been taken under advisement,” I drawled impassively.

  “My advice is an order, and it will be heeded.” There was something different about his behavior in that moment. Something far less sinister. Sincerity, perhaps? Though I could not be certain that he possessed that quality at all or even had access to it. He was cold and calculating, even more so after his change.

  But the resemblance to the way he acted on the roof the night that the Stealers attacked—the night that everything changed—was impossible to ignore.

  “Why are you so concerned? You are never far. Surely you can keep me from endangering myself, can you not?”

  The harsh lines etched in his face when he flexed his jaw stole my attention momentarily.

  “I need to leave for a bit,” he admitted grudgingly. “I need to know that you can keep your shit together in my absence. Stay close to your father. He’s the only insurance you have down here.”

  “Are you attempting to tell me something you think I do not already know?”

  “I’m trying to reinforce something you seem to have forgotten, new girl,” he growled. “You don’t seem to have any idea who your enemies are down here. As far as I’m concerned, you have no allies. Your father is the closest thing to one.”

  “And yet I have survived for centuries without your aid.”

  “Things have changed. You are not what you were then. Remember that while I’m gone. Question everything and everyone—including your father.” His eyes were dark and pleading as he stared at me in the dimly lit hall. “You want revenge for Drew? I will make sure you get it, but until then I need you to keep your head down and your shit together. Understood?”

  “Yes,” I lied. The ease with which I did so surprised even me. His advice, though thoughtful, fell on deaf ears.

  “Good.” He stepped back from me enough to rake his eyes over my body as though he was trying to memorize it. As though he thought he might never see it again. “If I’m not back in twenty-four hours, I want you to get Aery to take you and the boys back to Detroit and wait for me there.”

  “And if you do not show there?”

  “Then I want you to call Sean and tell him that he has a big fucking problem on his hands.”

  “Shall I tell him what the big fucking problem is?”

  He laughed in response.

  “No. If I don’t return, he’ll already know what’s coming.” While I stood silently, ruminating on the possibilities, Oz’s signature smirk overtook what had been a mask of apprehension. “Remember what I’ve told you,” he said as he started to walk away from me, toward the Great Hall and presumably the Acheron and the gate to the world above. “And for the record, new girl, I like seeing that fire in your eyes. I’d just rather see it there when you’re under me . . .”

  18

  His sinister laughter echoed in the hall long after he disappeared from it.

  The second it stopped, I was able to tear my mind away from the temporary distraction Oz’s words had provided and head toward the River Styx. I needed to regroup. I needed to plan. I needed to accomplish what I had returned to the Underworld to do, and perhaps find a way to cheat death without the aid of Hades. I held some measure of sway over lost souls; that was apparent from my interaction with the Stealer in Detroit and upon my return to the Underworld. If there were a way to understand that power—harness it—then perhaps I would not need Hades to aid me at all.

  But I would need help from someone.

  And that someone found me not long after I sat down on the rocky shore of the Styx.

  “Why have you come?” I asked Persephone, trying my best to determine what her true intention was. At that precise moment, I wished to be alone—to stew in my overwhelming emotions and plot my revenge. I was not ready to discuss matters with her yet. And if she had come to gloat about the outcome of Drew’s rebirthing ceremony, then she would soon find herself on the wrong side of my anger.

  “You and I have something in common,” she replied, slowly pacing along the riverbank while she ignored my question. Casually, she picked a rock off the shore and started turning it over in her hand.

  “Do we?” I did little to keep the incredulity from my tone, which was only fueled by my irritation with my failure. “From all I have heard of you, sister, one thing in common is one more than I would have assumed.”

  Her hand faltered at my insult, causing a fraction of a second’s pause between flips of the stone.

  “Yes,” she affirmed tersely. “We do. Our love and admiration of Hades.” When her eyes drifted from the river before her to meet my gaze, she was met with my empty stare. I would give nothing away. “I can see that the gossip surrounding him and me did not dissipate during my absence from the Underworld.”

  “No. It did not.”

  “Of course,” she nodded, dropping the rock back to the ground. “Then let me be frank with you. Contrary to what you may have been led to believe, I love your adoptive father—or at least I have grown to love him. The circumstances surrounding us have always been controversial. Such circumstances do not lend themselves to a traditional love affair. In fact, quite the opposite. However, time and proximity have led me to not only accept my place at his side, but desire it.”

  “Your point?” I asked. I wanted to know the real reason she had come to me, not listen to her defend her relationship with my father.

  “My point is that regardless of how unconventional our pairing may be to outsiders or their reservations about it, I would never want to see harm befall my spouse. The man you consider your father.”

  “Your words imply that harm awaits him.”

  “Just as I had intended, because it does. I alluded to something the other day—something I needed to share with you but was not certain I could. Now, I feel as though I must, regardless of my feelings.” She paused for a moment, giving herself a chance to choose her words wisely. “Your father is in danger.”

  “Is he?” I asked flatly.

  “He is.” Her tone mimicked my own.

  “How is it that you have come to know of this impending danger?”

  She sighed heavily, elegantly folding herself into a crouched position at my side in preparation for the discussion we were about to have.

  “Khara, how much do you know about the falling of the gods?” she asked. Her question seemed disjointed from the conversation at hand, though I did not doubt it had a point.

  “Enough to know that few are left after the emergence of the Christian God.”

  “This is true; we lost many, but it is not their loss in and of itself that is pertinent. It is how they were lost, and, more importantly, how some managed to persist.” Her keen stare was piercing, demanding that I keep pace with her subtext. Once she seemed confident I was paying adequate attention to her words, she continued. “When the takeover began, an ultimatum was put forth: conform or perish. It was that simple. The gods, full of pride, found those terms unacceptable. Many challenged the Christian God. From all that I have learned over time, those that did were met with a swift death. And not the kind that earns you a place in the Underworld.” My eyebrow quirked slightly at
her words. She smiled wickedly in response. “I am certain your father has long cautioned you that there are fates worse than death.” I nodded. “Then you know of what I speak?” I shook my head slowly in negation. “Ah, well, that is a topic for another day, I think. Just know that you would not want to travel down the path they took.”

  “How many of them met this fate?” I asked curiously.

  “Most,” she replied tightly. “I believe there is a saying in the Christian Bible that speaks of pride going before the fall.” She shrugged Gallicly. “The gods that perished seemed to embody that cautionary tale.”

  “If many fell, then who remains?” I asked, wondering which of them had chosen the path of survival.

  “Of the true Greek gods? Ares, Poseidon . . . Demeter, of course . . .”

  “That is all?” I asked, unable to conceal my disbelief.

  “And Hades, though his fate was orchestrated differently from the others. It was rather poetic, really, given that many on Mount Olympus looked upon him as unworthy of his position amongst them. He was the only one granted reprieve from His mandate.”

  “How were the gods to ‘conform’?”

  “That was the most interesting part of all, I must admit. The Christian God is not without His sense of cruel irony, I must say. To punish those that remained, He stripped them of their previous gifts and relegated them to a life in which they could only enjoy the opposite of all they had previously loved. For example, Ares, instead of leading armies into battle, is now charged with peacekeeping between the species that inhabit the world above as well as preventing humans from learning of those pesky supernaturals that inhabit their mundane planet. He did not take this offer well at first, but he is self-preserving, if nothing else. I was told that when he watched the others deny God and subsequently fall as a result, he was all too quick to accept his new position with every ounce of grace that he could muster.”

  “Poseidon?”

  “Bound to the shores, never to set foot in a body of water again.”

  “And Demeter? What of her abilities?”

  “God seemed to be far kinder to her than the others, most likely because her penchant for mischief and abuse of power was far less prominent. She still wields some authority over the elements, though it is a pitiful amount. She is a mere shadow of her former glory—barely a step above human, though still immortal. It pains her to be so out of touch with nature. She laments her new station. I think, if given the chance again, she would choose the fate that befell the other gods.”

  I pondered her words for a brief moment, wondering if perhaps Demeter’s always-sullen behavior had less to do with me specifically and more to do with her detachment from the earth she loved. With that thought came a light tightening of my heart. Guilt settled there for a brief moment before dissipating entirely. It was a misplaced emotion. Memories of Demeter’s loathing of me, regardless of the reason behind it, were enough to rid my body of any regrets I had where she was involved. My resentment of her was well earned as far as I was concerned, her behavior’s possible justification notwithstanding.

  “So only the four remain?”

  “Well,” she hedged, her eyes darkening in the flickering firelight around us. “There is some conjecture surrounding one or two of the others, my father included.”

  “Zeus did not perish?”

  “I do not know for certain. He was the last to meet his fate, allegedly. The others had all chosen by then—there were no witnesses. But I do know that I have not seen him since that day. He is nowhere that I can find him. Above or below.” Her shadowy eyes narrowed. “And there is virtually nothing that I cannot find and even less that I do not know.”

  There was heat in her words as well as a certain hint of warning. Persephone, despite her rumored shortcomings, was powerful in her own right. A fact that I would seek to use to my advantage.

  “Perhaps that is his punishment? He has been cut off from all he loved?” I offered, thinking it a plausible and sensible explanation for the one who fathered so many and ruled so many more.

  “A perceptive observation, sister,” she purred. “Especially for one who did not have the privilege of knowing him as I did. It is also an observation that I had long ago made, but my faith in its veracity grows weary.” Her eyes softened for a fraction of a second, exposing a sad and exhausted depth. Then they hardened again. “But I digress. My point in telling you all of this was to highlight the fact that Hades was not subjected to the same treatment as the others. For whatever reason, which you may feel free to speculate about later on, the Christian God did not strip Hades of his previous reign. This statement may seem rather obvious to you, but it is the underlying subtext that is most fascinating. He allowed Hades to rule the Underworld—an unsavory place—but from that point on, all who came here would be supernatural or former deities, though minor ones. Humans would no longer be cast into the bowels of this place.”

  “And because Hades agreed to this, he experienced no change in power?”

  “Correct. For the most part.” She paused, worrying her bottom lip between her fingers while she processed her own thoughts carefully. She was weighing her words. “Hades has lost some things—things that I dare not divulge here because the shadows of this place have ears. Such things should never be said aloud. Ever. But the losses of which I speak hinder him in ways that could potentially leave him . . .”

  “Vulnerable?” I asked, my voice low and cautious. The darting of her eyes around the room was response enough. She looked mildly paranoid. “Impossible.”

  Her crazed eyes landed on mine, giving me pause and undoing my resolve, however slightly.

  “Is it? Would you wager his life on that?” she hissed, lunging toward me. With her face hovering just before mine, she fought to regain her composure. Taking a reserved step back from me, she smoothed down the various layers of fabric adorning her, then continued. “There is more to this story, Khara. More than I have time to tell you. More than I can tell you, for I do not fully understand what is happening myself. And, as I said before, there is precious little that I am not privy to knowing. But what I do know and can tell you is that much has happened since you last saw your father.” A heaviness eclipsed her words and expression, her earlier exhaustion breaking through yet again. This time it stayed in the forefront. “The pact—the one that has bound you and me to the schedule we have held for centuries—has been broken, though by whose actions I have yet to determine.” Her expression hardened yet again. “Regardless of who is guilty, Hades’ powers are . . . eluding him in ways they have never before.” She grabbed my forearm tightly, whispering harshly to me. “My telling you this makes us allies, Khara. It means that I am willing to set aside my better judgment and trust you without truly knowing you. There are precious few in my world that I have trusted so.”

  My mind immediately brought forth images of Drew convulsing in pain and the expression on my father’s face. From the onset of my plan, he had tried to warn me away from trying to save Drew. Had he done so not because he was inexperienced and uncertain, but because he in fact knew that his powers were waning? As that realization settled into my expression, Persephone pressed her lips tightly together in a sympathetic gesture, her features softening slightly.

  “The chaos that you arrived to witness, Khara, should have been evidence enough, but Hades’ failure to force Drew’s rebirth clearly illustrates that his power is diminishing.”

  “You let Drew perish,” I said accusingly, pulling my arm from her grasp.

  “No,” she argued quickly. “I did what I could to warn you, but you would not hear it. Instead, you went to Hecate in an attempt to undermine Hades and me. No, I stand by my decision to wait and share this—this delicate information about Hades—with you until now. You needed to see for yourself. I do not think you would have believed me any other way.” I rose in anger, forcing her to lean away from me. Her initial shock turned quickly to controlled anger, and she stood to face me. “I did not come here
to fight with you, but if you force my hand, I will defend myself, sister. That is not something you want.”

  “What I want is my brother back,” I growled, my voice deadly serious.

  “Which is partly why I have come to you. I think I have a way to solve both of our problems, should you be willing to set aside your grief-driven anger long enough to listen.”

  I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. Though it took longer than it should have, I managed to regain an emotional state more reminiscent of the one I had lived in for centuries.

  “Go on.”

  “I know the chaos that you witnessed when you returned to the Underworld, Khara. I also know it was stifled by you. You, sister, hold the power to contain that which threatens to overrun both the Underworld and, in turn, your father.”

  I eyed her quietly, digesting what she had said. She seemed to take my silence as evidence of my continued distrust.

  “Khara,” she started, softening her tone slightly. “I can see in your eyes that you think little of me, and, given all you have undoubtedly heard, it is easy to comprehend why. What I need you to do is reconcile your feelings with my intentions to protect the man you view as your father. I fear for what is happening. I feel a shift in all that surrounds me. If order is not maintained, he may fall victim to those he was charged to reign over.”

  An army of darkness . . .

  “Impossible,” I affirmed for the second time, dismissing Aery’s warning, though it screamed in my mind.

  “That word,” she said, clicking her tongue against her teeth as she leaned closer to me again. “The impossible is only so until it occurs. Then it is an oversight of epic proportions. A legend. A cautionary tale. Would you hang your hat on what you believe to be impossible while risking the stability of the Underworld because your mind cannot conceive of any other possibility? Because your mind is too consumed with what you have already lost to perceive another, even greater, loss?”

  I opened my mouth to respond, then promptly snapped it shut. Her words were harsh but true, and they were ones that I, above all others, should have understood. I had been an impossibility—an adult Unborn. All thought it could not happen until it did, and the ramifications of such ignorance nearly cost me my soul. My freedom. I knew in my heart that I would not risk Hades’ well-being if I could somehow stop harm from befalling him. And if, in that endeavor, I could somehow bring Drew back, too, I would stop at nothing. If Persephone thought my assistance was integral, then she would have it.