by May Sage
“You were in Egypt, Niamh. You screamed and I heard you from across the ocean. You also didn’t ask for help. You ordered me to come to you.”
The kid’s eyes widened, understandably.
“I was next to you before I knew what was happening, I couldn’t have fought against your call had I wanted to. Not a lot of people can do that to me. No one alive should be able to, but you did.”
“Sorry?” The girl actually apologized. Tria had to laugh at that.
“I’m not telling you off. I’m just explaining things, so you understand. I took you with me, and you remember how I took your blood?”
“Yep. You said you wanted to check if I had a virus?”
“I lied,” she admitted. Niamh was surprised, but more curious than pissed off. “What I did is, I used a tiny little drop of it on various artifacts, to see if any of them would react to it.”
“Why?” she asked, tilting her head.
Tria sighed. It was a complicated question.
“My cousins and I strongly suspect that gods are playing with this world. The three of us were born roughly around the same time, and thrust into this world, which tells us that our parents planned it. There’s also a huge increase of young Scions on earth right now. Last century, there was a handful of us. Now, we’re hundreds. So, at first, I guessed you were one of us. It’s important to know what line you come from; it helps you hone your strengths, and control them, too.”
“Okay. What line do I come from, then?”
“None.”
Niamh frowned.
“When I found the right relic, it didn’t just react, it activated, Niamh, it was set on fire. I couldn’t contain it. It completely destroyed the building. I spent the following weeks observing you to confirm it. You’re no Scion. You’re a reincarnation.”
Gray was done pretending to ignore them now, leaning in to listen closely; he even ignored the cupcakes. Cat and Remus approved, licking at his frosting.
That was her cue to be freaking out, but the teenager didn’t seem very fazed. “Okay. So, I’m not crazy.” She explained, “I have dreams. Weird dreams that seem so real. I see sand, endless sands, and the purest blue waters. I see the Nile and pyramids covered in white, polished stone.”
Tria nodded.
“Ancient Egypt. You were born there.” Tria glanced at the time; they’d lingered too long already, but she owed the kid an explanation, and some help, too, or she’d freak out eventually. “Look, you’re not the first reincarnation. In fact, you’re not even the only one in this room. I’m what they call a recurrence.”
The kid scrunched her nose.
“There’s three ways people come back. The first is your case - a reincarnation. It means your soul has come back from the realm of the dead. It doesn’t say much about your body, you could have had a very different form back then. Or not. Then, there’s a representation. That’s when someone’s body comes back. There’s another word for it.”
“A doppelganger?” Niamh offered. Good. The kid was catching up.
“That’s it. And the last one is a recurrence. That particular brand of mess-up is a specialty of my kind. Certain people have been known to cause havoc just by existing, so the gods thought it necessary to make sure that their face comes back over and over again. Just their face. The hair or eye color changes, they come from different lines…”
“Why?”
Very good question. Because gods were messed up?
“Because gods love chaos and a few faces are known to have caused a humongous amount of problems. Adonis’, Medusa’s, for example. Before the whole snake thing, anyway.”
Of course, Niamh had to ask, “Then, whose face do you have?” Shit. Why had she gone there? In her effort to make the kid feel like she wasn’t too much of a freak, she’d talked herself into a corner. Thankfully, though, Niamh soon decided there was a more important thing to discuss, “Never mind that. Who am I?”
Tria breathed easier. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re Nephthys. The goddess of Death.”
No other deity of that ancient world would have been able to command her will the way Niamh had.
Tria had been worried about saddling a teenager with such a burden, but she’d resolved to do so in case anything happened to her. Besides, she’d been six when her mother had told her about her own legacy; over twice as old, Niamh could deal with it, she was sure.
The kid didn’t disappoint, breaking into a humongous smile. “That is so freaking cool. Wait until I tell Will.”
Yeah, she’d be just fine.
“Hey, I’m just telling you so you can deal with it better, when whatever powers you have manifest. And also because you need to be careful.”
“Of that Ajax?”
“Ajax, and whatever comes after him. The world will always be full of those who covet power.
She jumped to her feet. “Right, now we really need to dash. Come give me a hug, little one.”
“I’m, like, basically your size.”
“Only because you’re wearing three-inches heels.”
Niamh shrugged. “That totally counts.”
They held on to each other briefly before Tria turned her back, heading out, followed by one hunk and two furry friends.
Cat had taken to riding atop Remus’ back, and the dog didn’t dare protest against it.
Somewhat predictably, as soon as they’d passed the threshold of the house, Gray said, “So, whose face do you have, then?”
“Another word and you’ll die a slow and painful death.”
Touch
Tria was hilarious. During the rest of their limo journey, until they’d arrived on the coast, she pouted, and glared at him as soon as he opened his mouth.
“So…”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Great weather.”
Yeah, she was probably going to murder him before they arrived at their destination. Which wasn’t the worst idea, as it was probably an easier way to get to the Underworld.
He wasn’t yet a hundred percent sure why she was so self-conscious about her appearance, but, either way, it was stupid. Who cared whether she looked like someone who’d probably died thousands of years ago? Loads of kids looked like their parents, or grandparents. Her face was only part of what made her her. Plus, he’d been bespelled long before he’d even seen it.
“I have a question, though.”
“Regarding the conversation you weren’t supposed to listen to?”
He shrugged. “Your fault. It was too interesting. Anyway, what’s the difference between a representation and a recurrence? You talked of both like there’s a clear distinction. It just sounds like, in either case, you end up with someone else’s face.”
“In a way,” Tria replied, looking out the window. “Only, a representation is the exact doppelganger of someone alive, down to their birthmark. A recurrence is the double of someone dead. Generally, the resemblance isn’t as precise. Could we move on? In case that wasn’t obvious, I don’t like talking about that crap.”
As she seemed truly uneasy now, he finally took the hint.
“As we aren’t supposed to ask Charon for passage to the Underworld, what’s the plan?”
“We’re still going to head near to one of Charon’s boats; they’ll be located near a dimensional portal. I figured we could improvise from there.”
Right. Of course.
That was the worst plan in the history of plans, and that was coming from someone who’d partnered with Ralph for three years.
We could offer up an alternative.
Gray tensed. He’d expected his other self to come through at some point, but the parasite had remained strangely silent since he’d let him back in the driver’s seat. Or let him ride shotgun, anyway.
I’m not needed. You aren’t getting our ass kicked yet.
He wanted to roll his eyes, but rolling your eyes at yourself was insane.
Come on. She won’t judge. She’s just like you.
Gray
actually believed that to be true, but he still preferred not to discuss his own history if it could be avoided.
Oh for the sake of Heaven and Hell… Alright. You leave me no choice.
Gray opened his mouth and words poured out. He’d never even considered saying them. “Jumping to the world of the dead from this one is insane. People say it’s hard to jump from one dimension to the next, but that’s not exactly true. What is hard is going to and from the three mortal realms. To protect mortals from the rest of us, those doors are closed, guarded with immortal wards, dragons, the works. But going from one Hell to the next? Piece of cake.”
Tria frowned. “I don’t see how that’s helping.”
“It’s helping,” the parasite said, “because I have an open invitation to one particular Hell.”
He knocked at the driver’s window. “Hey, man, would you mind changing course? We need to head down to LA, not San Francisco.”
“Sure thing, pal,” the man replied.
“Also, could you do me a favor?” He took his phone, scrolling and typing until he’d found what he was looking for. “Play that song for me, would you?”
The driver laughed. “You got it.”
Tria waggled a brow until the tune started blasting through the speakers.
Then, like the sweetheart she was, although she generally hid it well, she started laughing her head off.
Gray sang along at the top of his voice, like they weren’t possibly going to die sometime soon.
“I’m on the highway to Hell!”
He attempted to get her to sing with him, in vain. “Trust me, I’m doing you a favor. I can’t carry a tune to save my life. And you have to stop acting like this is really a vacation.”
“It basically is,” Gray insisted. “I’m away from work, thanks to a wannabe overlord who killed all my superiors. I’m going somewhere I’ve never been before, with a gorgeous woman who blushes every time I touch her. I’ll be kissing her soon.”
She rolled her eyes and started to speak, but he cut her off, sealing her lips with his.
Gray knew he wasn’t acting like himself. It was the other part of him taking over. Right then, it didn’t feel like it, though. He wasn’t a bystander helplessly witnessing the parasite’s actions. No, he was right there, feeling Tria open her mouth and lean in to him to encourage him to deepen the kiss. He was the one who ignored it, and chose to press his lips on her soft neck instead, forcing a moan from her. His hands caressed her arms as he dropped featherlight kisses against her throat and, finally, bit her earlobe when he got to it.
For the first time, he saw what the parasite had told him all along. It wasn’t him and Gray. They were one, when he accepted it.
Heaven’s Door
Fire. This was liquid fire at her fingertips, and she wanted more. Tria didn’t think she’d live for long if he stopped touching her, kissing her sensitive skin, and… “Meow?”
Gray chuckled on her throat, before straightening himself and returning to his seat, putting his seatbelt on.
The cockblocking black kitten proudly jumped to Tria’s lap, and started purring, looking at her expectantly, like he wanted his turn for a cuddle now.
“You like to live dangerously, Cat. Someday, I may just skin you alive,” she threatened darkly.
The animal rolled over on his back, purring even louder.
“You know you’re going to have to name him, right?”
“Cat is a perfectly acceptable appellation. He likes it. Don’t you, Cat?”
The animal kept on purring, visibly agreeing with her.
The rest of the journey wasn’t unpleasant, although Tria felt more and more unsettled with each passing hour. How long had it been since she’d spent twenty-four hours away from Daphne and Jase? Too long. But it was also the first time she was unable to contact them. Their relationship had bordered on codependency over the last few years, and completely unplugging was almost physically painful.
“You always play with that thing.”
“Mh?” she dropped her eyes to her knees to see that she was rolling her hairpin around her fingers, a habit of hers. “Oh, that.” The pin changed into a sword when she called its name. It rarely was more than a foot away from her. She shrugged. “It’s handy.”
“I can imagine.”
It was more than that, though; that pin was the only thing her mother had given her. Or rather, the only thing she’d given her without a clear purpose. She’d been the kind of mom who gave her plenty of weapons and clothing designed to train with such weapons. Books, too; on how to hex, curse, dismember an enemy, but she’d never had a teddy bear. Yet one day, Persephone had just removed one of the hair pins from her own hair and handed it to her.
“There. Could come in handy someday,” she’d just said.
And sure, the pin actually was a weapon, too, but not one she really needed. The blade was rather useless, the sword, too short and too light. So she’d come to the conclusion that her mother had actually wanted to give her a present just because.
But saying that was too pathetic for words, so she left it alone. Thankfully, Gray was soon distracted.
“We’re here.”
Here was a tall, elegant Hollywood mansion, surrounded by men in black and a ten-foot-high electric fence.
The two nearest guards approached and Tria tensed, feeling them getting closer. She couldn’t exactly place them at first, but one thing was sure; they weren’t regulars.
“Calm down. We’re good here.”
Gray shot her a reassuring smile before rolling down the window.
The guards stopped.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Thomas,” Gray greeted. “Man, the suit works for you.”
The guard shrugged. “It’s a job. Comes with great benefits. Dental and all.”
“You need dental?”
The man laughed. “No. But my daughter might someday.” He was now beaming at a thousand watts.
“Wow. Congrats. We gotta touch base more often. Now, tell me one of my cousins is in the house right now? I could use a ride back home, and we were too far from my parents’ portals.”
Thomas shook his head. “Nope, but your aunt is in. I’ll announce you.” He waved his hand high and someone opened the gates to let the limo through.
The driver opened the window separating their compartments.
“Knox pays me well, but not well enough to risk my neck, man. Tell me this isn’t some sort of trick.”
“We’re good,” Gray promised.
“Dude, I’m not as stupid as I look. This house is a gate to Heaven. Heaven, man. I’m a goddamned werewolf. I don’t think any of my kind has ever stepped in there and lived.”
Tria’s eyes narrowed, and she caught the signs now that she paid attention; there were carvings on the walls, wings, scales, owls, and hearts.
“We can walk if you prefer,” Gray offered.
The driver hesitated, before driving through.
As they passed the door and weren’t blasted in a million pieces, Tria stopped gripping her seat.
They’d had some sort of a status quo until then; neither of them asked questions and the other left them alone. She’d believed she was benefiting from that understanding, given the fact that her own set of secrets was pretty out of this world. But given the fact that Gray seemed to have a way into Hell, passing by Heaven’s doors, she came to realize that she wasn’t the biggest freak in the car.
“Okay. Spill.”
The guy just laughed. “I don’t think that’s how it works, sweet. You get a question? I get one.”
She’d seen that one coming. “Fine,” she grumbled. “Why are we welcome in here without so much as flashing an ID?”
“Because my aunt and her mate rule in Heaven.”
That was it. She didn’t have any more questions now, because suddenly, she knew who he was. The ruler of Heaven only had one related family line: the ruler of Hell.
Grayson was the son of Astarot
h and Lily Star Morgan, Lucifer’s Heir.
She just laughed.
Someone, somewhere, had written that story, and they had zero imagination. Here they were, two heirs of Hell in one car. She wondered where the third one was lurking; maybe someone had hidden him in the trunk.
“I’m Hades’ daughter.” She hadn’t said that out loud, ever, but Gray didn’t even seem surprised, “and you’re Lucifer’s grandchild. Someone is messing with us.”
“Oh, are we addressing the elephant in the room and dealing with the fact that we’re mates?”
She felt her cheeks flame, as she shook her head in denial. He might be right. Okay, he was right. Nothing else explained why she’d felt so inexorably drawn to him from the very start. But they really didn’t have the time to talk this out right now. She had to go to Hell, find that damn helmet, somehow convince the father she’d never met to give it to her or destroy it, and come back out of there alive.
No time for anything else; especially when that particular conversation would most probably end with them naked and drowning in each other for days on end.
“Shame. Fine, then. Tell me, Tria: whose face do you have?”
Never mind that.
“You’re right. We’re probably mates. I blame the three Fates. They’re predictable like that. Not that it changes anything right now.” The car had stopped in front of the house, just in time. She jumped out. “Let’s go to Hell.”
Welcome
Tria had never liked Angels. Those she’d met were self-righteous and major buzzkills; the term “angel” was also loosely applied to the vague descendants of the original race who’d arrived from space thousands of years ago, and created so many mortal species, just like the Myths. At least, her own ancestors were less deluded. They said “demi-gods,” “minor deities,” and “Scions.”
There were just a handful of actual, full-fledged individuals bearing those alien genes without a blend of mortal blood nowadays. She was standing next to one of them.
She couldn’t even blame herself for not seeing it because he really, really didn’t use any of his gifts. Like, none, that she could tell. Tria wondered what his deal was.
