Unseen

by Amber Lynn Natusch

  “You are convinced that I am somehow the solution to this?” I asked, uncertain how or why she was so convinced, but that mattered not.

  “Yes.”

  “Fine.”

  Her brow rose amusedly at my reply.

  “That is all? Just ‘fine’? You have no questions? Require no explanation?”

  “I will do what needs to be done for my father’s and Drew’s benefit, if you believe I can help. I see no other options.”

  She then cocked her head, eyeing me with a mix of curiosity and bewilderment.

  “May I be frank with you?” she inquired, her eyes quickly scanning the room as if she were reassuring herself that we were indeed alone. When she returned her gaze to mine, I nodded in response. “I have heard of what you did while away from here . . . in Detroit.”

  “From whom did you hear this?”

  “In the spirit of transparency, I will tell you, though you mustn’t say a word.”

  I nodded. “Deimos. I overheard him one night—just after he returned. He was manic, rambling about things I could not understand, but the longer I listened to his insanity, the more I started to piece together the gist of what had occurred between the two of you.” She looked at me expectantly, her wide eyes searching for acknowledgment of what she had learned. I gave her nothing, which only spurred her on. “More specifically, what happened between you and a rogue Stealer. The how of it all remains unclear to me, but what I understood implicitly is that you annihilated it—and not with a weapon. He seems to think that you somehow drained the Stealer in the same way that the Stealer should have drained you.”

  “And this is why you view me as the solution to the management issue in the Underworld? I fail to see the connection.”

  “I have a theory,” she said, stepping so close to me that her body pressed against my own, her lips at my ear. “If you were in fact able to take the souls that the Stealer contained into yourself, then I am left to wonder what else you can do with them—souls, that is.”

  “Your theory, though intriguing, sister, is one that has no means of being tested. Not without bringing attention to that which you seem so intent on keeping secret.”

  “Possibly . . .”

  Her response was a seductive invitation—a crossroads. Her tone made it plain that she had thought about this for some time. She had a plan. I could either inquire what it was or walk away, potentially endangering my father in the process and eliminating any chance of learning what could be done for Drew. Rejecting whatever strategy she had in place would also burn the bridge between her and me, which would surely have kept her from telling me all she knew about my mother. Persephone’s scandalous reputation may or may not have been warranted, but I knew she was powerful. I may have suffered at the hands of the Underworld in my past, but Persephone most certainly had not, which was a clear testament to her power. And if she thought that power was insufficient to aid Hades in his alleged time of need, that alone was cause for concern. Combined with all I stood to lose if I did not assist her, the decision was all but made for me.

  “I am listening.”

  “Good,” she whispered, pulling away from me. “Because we don’t have much time.” Again, her eyes quickly darted around the vast and open shoreline to ensure that we were not in the unwanted company of others. “I know you did something to those present in the Great Hall when you arrived; that much I have told you. What I have not told you is why I think you were able to. I believe that something about you calls to the evil surrounding you. In Detroit, you would have been in contact with a fair amount of it. Here, we are steeped in the darkest of the dark. Beings so wickedly depraved that there are realms where even I dare not go for fear of what wanders aimlessly there, waiting for the chance to exact revenge on those that keep them there.”

  “How could they? I know of what you speak, and I also know that there is magic that binds those particular souls to their place of punishment. There is no chance for revenge—no escape to be had.”

  “Unless that magic fails,” she said, resting back in her chair. A smug smile tugged at her lips. It was an all-knowing expression that I was very familiar with. Oz wore it often.

  As my mind pieced the puzzle together, I finally saw why she wore it. She already knew the answer.

  “Hades . . . he is the power that binds them.”

  “Precisely.”

  “And you believe that if his power is waning—”

  “So is the thickness of that which contains the most vile, nefarious, imprisoned souls that the Underworld has to boast. All of the veils are weakening, really.”

  I thought of all my fallen brothers, those that Kierson and I had encountered in the dining hall. That day, there had been so many of them out at once. Was that proof of Persephone’s claim? Were they out because they had been permitted to be, or because that which contained them could no longer do so?

  “Surely Hades must know this,” I declared convincingly. “He must feel the drain.”

  “I believe he does on some level, though there is nothing he can do. But if he does indeed lose all control of this place, make no mistake about this, sister: The ramifications will be catastrophic for both the living and the damned.”

  “He would never let that happen,” I argued, thinking of the militaristic yet noble man I had grown to care for—even love. He would do everything within his capability to ensure that never occurred.

  But what if his capability to do so was lost?

  “You must learn not to speak in such absolutes, Khara. Your brother, Sean, has that very same flaw. It is one that leads to unpleasant outcomes,” she warned, her eyes narrowing tightly at her mention of Sean’s name. “I believe what you meant to say was that Hades would never willingly let that happen. On that point, we can both agree. However, his intentions are not in question. His ability to do the job he was charged with is.”

  “I must speak to him,” I said, my voice somewhat wistful and distant.

  “No!” she cried, grabbing my arm when I moved to leave her. “I have already tried. He will hear nothing of it.”

  “But he must,” I argued. “Especially in light of what happened to—”

  “I agree, but he is a proud leader, Khara. You know this. To question his rule is to tear at his very fiber. His power is already unraveling. Would you unravel his being as well?”

  I stared into her suddenly sad eyes and realized that I could not. But what price would be paid for my silence? That question plagued my mind.

  “What will happen if I cannot do whatever it is you think I can do to aid Hades?”

  “Then the walls between us and the damned will fall, and there will be true, unadulterated anarchy.”

  “And my father?”

  “Will certainly be the first to fall victim to it,” she said firmly. “There are too many locked away that blame him, not themselves, for their tortured existence in order for him to survive. Of this, I am certain.”

  “I would not stand idly by while Hades was under attack.”

  She smiled wickedly, squeezing my arm uncomfortably. Her eyes were murderous.

  “Nor would I, but our efforts would be in vain. There will be no stopping the mob when they are in search of retribution. But that will not stop me from fighting, either.”

  “What do you propose?”

  “We must go to the Fields of Oudeis. We must see if you are indeed capable of what I am desperately hoping you are.”

  “And that is?”

  “Taking charge of all that call the Oudeis home. You will be a vessel for that evil until we find a way to restore the power that Hades has lost and return those souls to their rightful punishment.”

  “Even if what you suggest is possible, how will Hades regain the power he has lost? I have no way to impact that.”

  Her serpent’s smile widened.

  “Leave that part to me, Khara. I have far more tricks up my sleeve than any would give me credit for, and many in my debt that may be of use in t
his particular situation.” She started off toward the main body of the Underworld, her graceful gait impossible to look away from. “I will keep you apprised of all I learn.”

  “And what of my brother?” I asked.

  “I need to consult with Hecate in that matter, but I believe that, once the Oudeis has been drained into you, she should be able to remove his particular soul, but only when you return the others to the Oudeis,” she explained. “As I said, I will keep you apprised.”

  The sway of her hips nearly mesmerized me, distracting me from the question that had burned itself into the back of my mind. The question I had originally set out to have answered. One of the main reasons I returned to the Underworld in the first place.

  “I need something in return for doing this,” I called after her. Persephone stopped short and turned to face me, a look of interest on her face.

  “Is saving your brother not enough?”

  “No. It is not.” I could see that she was not used to having demands made of her, but I cared not. If she required my assistance to carry out her plan, then she would give me what I wanted. It was the only leverage I had. “Answers. About my mother.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “Done,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. She then resumed her retreat back to the depths of the Underworld.

  “And the Dark One,” I called after her, not forgetting that Oz, too, was a driving force behind my return to the Underworld. A driving force that compelled me to seek Persephone out specifically. “I have questions about him. About undoing what has been done.”

  My words halted her yet again.

  “How very unexpected,” she replied over her shoulder, her voice low and husky. “You surprise me, sister. It is strangely refreshing, and because of that I will entertain your request. Precious few things surprise me anymore.”

  “You admitted that there are things you know that others do not. I am certain that you are the only one who can aid me in these questions.”

  “And I am certain that if you know that much about me that you also know that I do not give without getting—that the information I provide comes at a price.”

  “You are receiving my aid in maintaining the Underworld and keeping Hades safe. Those are two separate outcomes for which I require two separate payments.”

  “Touché, sister,” she purred. “Though your efforts are not the currency I typically deal in; for you—for family—I will make this exception, but only once. We have a deal, though I will not deliver until you do. There is no certainty yet that you will be able to hold up your end of the bargain, and I stand to lose much for what I can tell you about what you wish to know. If you succeed, I may be willing to divulge all I can, but I will not wager that until Hades is safe. Those are my terms.”

  “I accept.”

  “Of course you do. What choice do you have? You have had things stolen from you—your brother. Your mother. Oz. In a sense, I know what at least one of those losses is like. There was a time when I would have moved Heaven and Earth to find a way to right those wrongs. If I were you, that is precisely what I would do.” Persephone turned to face me, her wicked smile impossibly wide. “Who knows . . . if I were you, I might even raise a little hell.”

  As I stared at her impassively, trying to appreciate her advice, she nodded at me and turned to leave.

  “And what if we fail?”

  “Then we will be raising hell for certain.”

  With a wink, she was gone.

  I stood motionless, processing all that had just occurred while Oz’s words reverberated in the back of my mind. He had warned me that now was not the time for recklessness—that I needed to be wary of where I laid my trust. But I did not care. I was blinded by the need to protect my father, free Drew, and get what I had come to the Underworld for. If Persephone’s and my desires aligned to accomplish all of that, then it was a risk that I was more than willing to take. Oz’s reservations toward all who dwelled in the Underworld were not mine. It did not help that I was still uncertain precisely what his intentions were. Should I accept the advice of a being whose agenda might be best served by my compliance if I did not yet know what that agenda was?

  The answer to that question was both elusive and haunting.

  19

  The River Styx had always been my sanctuary, but I now sought an environment that mirrored my roiling emotions. The Acheron was the most fitting place. Its waters churned and crashed along the craggy rock walls that hemmed it in. If the Styx was an open oasis, the Acheron was a rushing divide, cutting its way between the dead and the living. With my feelings raging just below my controlled surface, I wondered if I wasn’t destined to become somewhat the same thing. A violent force separating the two.

  Standing on the cliff just above the water, I looked across to the other side, thinking it strange that a simple body of water was enough to withhold all that the Underworld imprisoned, but I knew it was. I had seen some of Father’s disgruntled warriors attempt to cross it and escape. It was an ill-conceived plan. Their deaths were swift but grotesque, having been swallowed up in the acidic waves, bodies eroding in a matter of seconds. Strange that as I now gazed at the fast-moving river, I considered doing just as they had.

  Reckless? Maybe. But perhaps not.

  If my mother had been Dark, then why was it not possible for me to cross of my own accord? I could fly. Why not test my theory? I needed to know if I could personally extract Drew from the Underworld as quickly as possible if Persephone’s plan worked. Perhaps I would need to bring him over while I still contained him. There were too many unknowns to chance—too many to relinquish to the control of others—and as that thought ran through my head, I felt myself lean forward, my body flirting with the cliff’s edge. The familiar pain of my wings pressing through flesh seared in my back. I closed my eyes, hovering farther over the water. Just as my wings extended, I felt another familiar sensation travel along my spine. My heart raced the second his presence registered in my mind, and I stumbled back inelegantly from the water’s edge.

  “Tempting fate, are we?” Deimos asked, approaching from behind me. I turned to see him, his frighteningly rugged face fixed on mine. “Those are not the shade that I remembered them to be, nor are they the shade necessary for safe passage across the Acheron.” He eyed me curiously. “But you know that, which makes me wonder precisely what it is that you are doing.”

  “Thinking.”

  “I would argue the opposite, given that your suicidal notion exhibits a clear lack of thought.”

  “I was not going to cross it.”

  He smiled menacingly.

  “I know. That’s my point. You were not.” I felt my wings fold in behind me, shrinking under the weight of his stare. “You would have perished, and you see, Khara, I cannot have that.”

  “Is that why you are here? I now have two chaperones to ensure my safety?” I asked, controlling my expression as best I could.

  His face, however, darkened at my question.

  “You know why I am here,” he growled. “The real question to be asked is why are you here? Why have you returned?” He slowly circled me like a lion. His casual pace and easy set of his shoulders did not fool me. There was nothing easy about Deimos.

  Or the way he made me feel.

  “I came in search of answers,” I replied, doing my best to mimic his cool demeanor. “That cannot be surprising news for you to hear, knowing of all that has changed for me.”

  “Answers about what?”

  “That is not your concern.”

  He stopped mid-stride. His face remained turned away from mine, and I saw his clasped hands tighten at my response. My challenge was not appreciated. Much to his credit, he kept his hands pressed together, instead of releasing one or the other in order to strike my face. I had expected that reaction when I answered. Something about him was different, and it made me want to test his boundaries.

  “Detroit has changed you. Made you bold,” he said calmly,
though the tension in his expression betrayed him as he fought to maintain his composure. “Do not forget where you are or with whom you are dealing.”

  “I have questions about my mother. I came back to speak with Hades regarding them.”

  “I see. . . . And you think he has these answers you seek?” he asked, starting to circle me yet again.

  “Some.”

  “Only some?” he asked with an unmistakable curiosity in his tone.

  “If he has more than he has admitted to, then he is reluctant to share them with me. Whether that is because he does not wish to fuel my curiosity further or he does not dare share his knowledge, I cannot be certain,” I explained. “You and I both know that there is little, if any, true privacy to be found in this place. It is hardly a secure setting to discuss sensitive subjects.”

  “That is an interesting assessment,” he drawled from behind me—too close behind me. “Let us suppose that he knows nothing more about your dear mother. What then?”

  “I have made arrangements.”

  “With whom?”

  “Others,” I answered defiantly, unwilling to disclose my deal with Persephone or its details. Knowing that my insubordination would only anger Deimos further, I steadied myself for the first blow. But instead of a fist, I was hit with a roar of laughter so booming that I flinched.

  “Fine, Khara. I will let you have this little victory if it pleases you.”

  I was glad that he was behind me, unable to see the astonishment that flashed through my eyes. In all the time that I had known him—been terrorized by him—he had never made such a concession.

  He had never made any concessions at all.