Apollyon (Covenant #4)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  And I wanted to stop it before it even got started—spare him the pain of brutal, hurtful words that would lance open old wounds. But when I stepped forward, he snapped alive.

  “Don’t,” he said, his voice thick. “I want to hear this.”

  I stared at him like he was crazy.

  “Of course he does,” Aiden’s father spoke. “My son is no coward. Foolish, but no coward.”

  I jerked toward the sound of his voice. I couldn’t get over how much he sounded like Aiden.

  His mother’s smile seemed warm enough. “My son, you do not want to do this. The answers you seek do not exist where you wish to tread.”

  “I have to,” Aiden replied stonily.

  The father tipped his chin up. “No. What you have to do—the right thing to do—is turn around and leave this place.” When Aiden didn’t respond, his father drifted closer and his voice was stern, relentless. “You must do the right thing, Aiden. We raised you to always do the right thing.”

  Aiden nodded stiffly. “You have, and that is why I have to do this.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed, and I knew I was about to witness some epic family drama. “The right thing would’ve been to take your place among the Council, as you were raised to do.”

  Oh no…

  A muscle popped in Aiden’s jaw.

  “Do you think you can accomplish anything as a Sentinel?” his father asked, and I wondered if he’d been this way in real life. Cold. Disciplined. Was that where Aiden’s near-rigid control came from? But Aiden had never let on that was the case.

  His father wasn’t done. “You’re wasting your life, and for what? A sense of revenge? Justice? You shirk your duties while our family’s seat remains empty?”

  “You don’t understand,” Aiden said. “And… none of that matters right now.”

  The change that came over his mother was nothing short of dramatic. Gone was the warmth and elegance. “You shame us, Aiden. You shame us.”

  I blinked. “Wait a second—”

  “You have no control.” Disgust dripped from his father’s voice. “We taught you to never take advantage of those who are under your charge. Look at what you have done.”

  The mother clucked her tongue. “You risk her, knowing she could be harmed because of your lack of control. How could you be so reckless? How could you do this to someone you claim to love?”

  My mouth dropped open. “Oh, now that’s not—”

  “You can’t protect her.” His father gestured toward me. “You couldn’t protect us. You’re a failure. You just don’t see it yet, but you will just keep on plowing forward until you can’t go any more.”

  His mother nodded. “I’m surprised that Deacon has made it this far. But then again, look at my baby boy—a drunk and an addict, all before eighteen. I’m so proud.”

  I whipped toward Aiden and pleaded, “You don’t need to listen to this! You can stop this.”

  She smiled coldly, continuing as if I hadn’t even spoken. “And her—look at what you did to her. Placed her on the Elixir, stripped her of her will. You’re less than a man.”

  “You bitch,” I spat, readying to throw my blade at her, ninja-style.

  “Go now,” his father said. “Leave this place. Or her blood will be on your hands.”

  Never in my life did I want to exorcise some ghosts more than I did right then. Anger hummed like venom through me. “Aiden, don’t listen to them. They aren’t real. What they’re saying is bull. You—”

  “What they are saying is real.” Aiden swallowed hard, sparing me a brief glance. “But it’s not them saying it.”

  I didn’t get it at first, because I so doubted his parents were such big douchebags in life, but then it sank in.

  “What my mom had said… it’s us.” I turned to him slowly. “What they are saying? It’s what you really think?”

  When Aiden said nothing, I think I was more horrified by that than anything else that’d happened so far. He thought those terrible, horrific things about himself? And how long had he been carrying that with him? Years?

  “And your brother?” his father said, shaking his head as concern pinched his face.

  I was going to gut both of his parents.

  “He is unprotected right now,” added the mother. “You should be there, not here, chasing a fool’s errand. He will die, too, like us, and it will be your—”

  “Enough!” Aiden roared, shooting forward.

  I hadn’t even seen or felt him take the sickle blade from my fingers, but he had. The blade arced through the dark sky.

  “You’ll be sorry,” his mother said, a second before the blade sliced through both his parents.

  Like my mother, they broke apart into thin, wispy strands of color and smoke and then vanished, scattered into the air around them. And like with my mother, their words lingered.

  Aiden stood with his back to me. Wordlessly, he hit the release on the sickle blade and with a soft, sucking noise it disappeared into the tube of the handle. There was no danger now. Three wards had come to pass—guards, hellhounds, and spirits.

  But I couldn’t control my pounding heart. “Aiden…?”

  His shoulders tensed and he turned his head to the side. His profile was grim, the line of his jaw hard. “I have thought those things for a long time. Becoming a Sentinel was the right thing for me, what I wanted and needed, but was it really the right thing?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that. “But you’re not shirking your duties or whatever. You are still doing something so important, Aiden. And one day, if you wanted to take your seat… you could.” The words hurt to say more than they should’ve, and for a purely selfish reason. If Aiden took his seat, there’d be no chance of us ever being together. No future with the house, the dog, and the cat.

  But I wouldn’t stop Aiden if he felt he needed to take his seat. And his parents or inner voice could be right in some sense. With a seat on the Council, he could do more in regards to changing things, but…

  Hell, nothing mattered if Seth was successful.

  “I could,” he said almost too himself, and I winced. “My brother—”

  “Isn’t an addict.” I paused. “Okay. He was a bit of a drunk and stoner, but he’s not an addict. Seth’s an addict. A daimon is an addict. Deacon is at the cabin making marinated steaks.”

  That brought a faint half-smile to his face. “He’s safe.”

  “Yes.”

  He faced me and exhaled roughly. “I really don’t think I’ll get you killed.”

  “That’s a relief to hear.”

  Aiden closed his eyes briefly. When they reopened, they were a soft gray. “I have to say, it was kind of nice to shut those damn voices up, if just for once.”

  Stepping forward, I placed my hand on his arm and squeezed. “Are you okay?”

  “I am.” He bent his head, placing his lips on my forehead. “Let me grab the bag and then we’ll enter the church together. Okay?”

  I nodded, waiting outside the foundation. Aiden returned with the bag and knelt. Reaching in, he pulled out a dark, shapeless material and offered it to me. Another followed as I took mine.

  “A cloak?” I slipped it over my head. “Where you’d get two of these?”

  Aiden stood, throwing the backpack onto his back. “You’d be surprised by what Solos’ father has stashed away in his cabins. I actually picked these up when we were in Athens. Figured we might need them.”

  “You’re so smart and organized.”

  Laughing, he pulled his on and then reached over, grasping the edges of my hood. He tugged it up. “We have to hide that pretty face of yours.”

  I flushed. “Same for you.”

  “I have a pretty face?” Aiden pulled up his own hood, which cast his face in shadows. “I’d like to go with handsome instead of pretty.”

  “Handsome” wasn’t a strong enough word, but I nodded. He extended his hand, and I took it, comforted by the steady, warm grasp.

  “Are you re
ady?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Together, we moved down the line of the fallen stones and found the opening. Together, we stepped through where a door had once stood. There were no more warnings or wards. We moved through the patches of crumbling cement and overgrown weeds.

  We waited.

  After about ten seconds, a fissure of energy coursed down my spine. Aiden felt it too, for his hand tightened around mine. Anxious energy built in my stomach, forming tight balls of dread and even a little bit of excitement.

  Hopefully, my visit to the Underworld would be different this time.

  Toward the back of the foundation, the air rippled, reminding me of heat rolling off of hot pavement in the summer. The veil that separated the truth from the mortal world simply slipped away.

  “Do you see it?” I asked.

  Aiden squeezed my hand. “Yes.”

  The wrought-iron gate encased in titanium was huge, latching into something neither of us could see. Instead of bars, there were two-pronged spears decorated with images of black bulls and ewes. Where the two gates joined, a replica of the invisible helmet was engraved into the iron. The musty scent grew stronger.

  With his free hand, Aiden pushed the gate open. It swung backward, making no sound, revealing nothing but darkness—not the kind associated with night, but a black void. A portal. And together, hand and hand, we stepped through the gates to the Underworld.

  CHAPTER 21

  I almost expected that, when we stepped into the void, we’d fall flat on our faces. But the ground remained under our feet as we continued into the darkness, which eventually gave way to fog as thick as soup.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I sought to find the gate before the fog swallowed us whole, but it was gone and the fog was even heavier. I gripped Aiden’s hand as tendrils seeped between us, wrapping a different kind of cloak around us. I couldn’t even see Aiden… or two feet in front of me. A pang of panic unfurled in my chest.

  “I’m right here.” Aiden’s deep voice parted the veil and he squeezed my hand. “Just keep hold.”

  I briefly considered using the air element to dispel some of the fog, but if the fog was supposed to be here, that could be potentially bad news if it suddenly up and disappeared.

  The further we moved into the fog, the more unnerving it became to be so blind. And then there was a sound other than my own pounding heart—a shuffling type of sound, like feet and cloth dragging all around us, and a low hum, like a soft, never-ending gasp of a moan, and I didn’t even want to know what it was. Following the path of Aiden’s arm, I stepped closer to him, so close that I was surprised I didn’t trip him up.

  After several minutes of nothing but blindly walking through fog and that terrible dragging and moaning sound, the fog started to break apart until the path was revealed before us.

  I sucked in a breath, unable to stop from clutching his arm. What little part of the Underworld I’d seen before hadn’t prepared me.

  The fog gave way to a sky that was the color of the fading sun, a cross between red and orange. But from what I could tell, there was no sun. And all around us were people, moving about aimlessly. Dressed in bland, tattered clothing, they shuffled to and fro. Many stayed silent; some moaned quietly, while others muttered under their breath from behind their own cloaks, but all had their gazes trained to the ground. They were young and old, from the smallest child to the most aged crone.

  This… this holding place continued as far as the eye could see, to the cusp of the hills Apollo had spoken of. I didn’t understand what this place really was. It wasn’t limbo—that much I knew—as I had been there before.

  None of the souls looked up as we navigated around them. There were no guards on horses, like I’d seen in limbo. It appeared as if these people had been placed here, left alone to their own devices and boredom.

  “Why?” I asked in a hushed voice.

  Aiden knew what I was asking. “The majority of the dead reside here.” He led me around a group of three huddled together on the dirt. “Those who have been buried, but haven’t gone on to face their judgment. Some of them may have done something in their lives to make them fear their judgment. Others are…”

  A woman moved in front of us, her gaze glued to the ground as she wrung her hands. She muttered under her breath, “Where’s my baby?” over and over again.

  “Some are confused,” I answered. “They don’t know they’re dead.”

  Aiden nodded solemnly.

  And then the sad woman simply vanished, as if she had walked through an invisible portal—there one moment and gone the next.

  I halted. “What the…?”

  “I’ll explain, but we must keep moving.” Aiden tugged me forward. “Legend says that some of these souls leave limbo and have turned shade. They go back to the mortal world, and then return here again. I don’t think they can even control it.”

  I swallowed. “They’re ghosts.”

  “Thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.” Humor laced his tone.

  Now was a pretty good time to change my mind. As I peered out from beneath my hood, there was something ghastly to some of the souls. Many of them looked solid and from how they’d brushed against me, I knew they had mass, but others had that wonky fuzziness to them. And the more I paid attention, the more others simply vanished.

  This place was creepy, like walking through a maze of the hopeless and forgotten. And we hadn’t even reached the Vale of Mourning yet. Yee haw, this was going to be fun.

  A sudden damp coldness clung to the air around us. I lifted my head, eyeing the burnt orange sky. One drop of water fell, splashing off my cheek. Then they sky opened up, drenching us in cold rain within seconds.

  I sighed. “Really, it has to rain?”

  “At least it’s not acid.”

  That was Aiden, always looking on the bright side of things.

  Tugging my hood down closer, I trudged forward. The souls paid no heed to the heavy rainfall. Perhaps they’d grown used to it. I wanted to stop and yell at them to go to judgment, because whatever waited for them couldn’t be worse than this.

  Especially for the little ones who were all alone—there was nothing they could have done to warrant them eternity in Tartarus.

  One small boy sat alone in a large puddle the rain had already created. The child couldn’t have been more than four or five. He moved his chubby fingers in the mud, drawing a circle and then wiggly lines all around it.

  The sun—he was drawing the sun.

  I started toward him, not sure what I’d do, but I had to do something—maybe convince him to go to judgment. Gods knew how long he’d been here. His family could already be in Elysian Fields.

  “No,” Aiden said softly.

  “But—”

  “Remember what Apollo said. We cannot intervene.”

  I stared at the little boy, fighting the urge to break free. “It’s wrong.”

  Aiden’s grip on my hand tightened. “I know, but there’s nothing we can do.”

  My heart ached as I watched the little boy carve a moon beside the sun, heedless to the rain or the other souls practically trampling him. I wanted to be angry and I was—even at Aiden, because he was right. There was nothing we could do. And there would be more like this little boy—more forgotten souls.

  Fighting back the sting of tears, I pulled my hand free from Aiden’s but didn’t run off. I fell in step beside him as we passed beyond the poor child, navigating the endless field of souls that had been either left behind or cast aside.

  It took hours to pass through the Asphodel Fields. By the time we left the ankle-deep mud and our boots touched scattered patches of grass, we were drenched and cold, our cloaks weighted down and heavy. Rain had somehow snuck into my boot and, with each step, my foot sloshed back and forth. Exhaustion dogged me, and probably Aiden too, but neither of us complained. Traveling through the field of all those souls had served as a reminder that things could always be worse.

  T
he rain had let up a little, turning to a constant, steady drizzle. The sky was now a darker orange, signaling that night was close at hand. Ahead, the rolling green hills led up to a thick, nearly impenetrable slate wall. It was going to be a steep climb.

  “Do you want to take a breather?” Aiden asked from behind his cloak as he surveyed the hills. “It looks relatively safe. We could take a—”

  “No. I’m fine.” I stepped around him, slowly climbing the first hill, ignoring the dull ache taking up residency in my temples. “Besides, the faster we can get into the tunnels, the sooner we can rest, right? We’ll be safe there at night.”

  “Yes.” Aiden was beside me in a second. His hand came out from the cloak and slipped inside my hood. His palm was warm against my cheek. The gesture was brief, and gone all too quickly.

  We traveled on in silence, but worry nagged at me. The headache wasn’t severe, nothing like what I’d experienced before Seth had paid a call, but I had no idea how long it would take for it to progress. The only hope was that we reached somewhere safe—preferably dry—where we could bunk down for the night. Sleep was what I needed, and the sooner the better.

  The odd sky darkened with each hill we crested, forcing us to pick up our pace. We crossed a field of narcissus that rose to our knees, petals a luminous white and carrying an incredibly sweet scent. The slate wall drew closer as the flowers gave way to trees.

  At least that’s what I thought they were.

  They rose into the sky, their branches bare for the most part, like slender fingers reaching for the ever-increasing darkness. Around the lower branches, ruby-red fruit hung in the air. Pomegranates.

  Curious to how they tasted, I reached for one.

  Aiden’s hand snatched mine in a near painful grasp. I let out a startled gasp.

  “No,” he said harshly. From behind the cloak, his eyes were a bright silver. “Do you know nothing of Persephone?”

  I glared at him. “Uh, she’s the Queen of the Underworld. I’m not stupid.”

  “I didn’t say you were stupid.” His grip loosened as he led me through the trees, toward the last mound. “Though, I’m really starting to think you should’ve spent less time in class sleeping or doing whatever you were doing.”