Rise of the Blood lo-3

by Lucienne Diver

  The green-eyed twin sidled up to me. “Hello,” he said with a “come here often?” implied.

  I rolled my eyes, but that only brought me to the golden-eyed twin, who said, “Want to tell us what’s going on?”

  “I’m sure Hades will fill you in.”

  “Well then, want to fool around?” the green-eyed one asked, moving in closer. Apparently, come-ons hadn’t changed much since ancient times. I didn’t have the least bit of trouble understanding that.

  I upped my glare and he turned up the wattage on his smile from lewd to lascivious.

  I looked to Apollo in amusement. He was eying the twins as if he’d like to bash their heads in but wouldn’t deny me the pleasure. Somehow, it put the devil into me.

  “Maybe later,” I said, letting my face relax into my best coquettish look.

  “Really?” green-eyes said. He hit his twin. “Hear that, Castor?”

  Apollo growled and moved in.

  “You two had better beat it for now,” I told them.

  The golden-eyed one gave me a wink and a half bow before grabbing his twin by the cloak and pulling him into the sea of men. Mostly men, anyway. Here and there was a woman or a child, but overwhelmingly the Elysian Fields—or at least the Hall of Heroes—seemed to be populated by men. Darn sexist ancients. Where would Theseus have been without Ariadne’s ball of string to find his way out of the labyrinth? And Achilles’s heel was only famous because that was where his mama had held him when she dipped him into the River Styx to make him invulnerable but for that one little spot. Gah.

  Apollo must have sensed my agitation. “Don’t worry, you’re twice the hero of anyone here.”

  “Yeah, how do you figure?”

  “You successfully resisted the charms of Castor and Pollux, a Herculean task, I’m sure.”

  I grinned. “That only puts me on his level.”

  “Well, then there’s the fact that you’ve resisted me all this time. Oh, and fought Zeus, Poseidon and Hephaestus and lived to tell about it. You’ve faced down Dionysus, Hades and his hellhounds. Need I go on?”

  “I didn’t do any of those things alone,” I protested.

  “And you think they did?”

  He had a point. Jason had his Argonauts; Odysseus had his fleet.

  And then I spotted a group of warrior women off to the side…Amazons? Had I been wrong about their existence? The previously unknown fan-girl in me geeked out at the thought. Most were easily as tall as the male warriors, and they were dressed much the same. They weren’t one-breasted that I could tell, but their chests did seem to be bound flat and their hair short-cropped or tightly woven to keep it from being gripped in battle. One of them gave me a nod as she caught my eye and I nodded back.

  We crossed into the temple proper, and the huge cryselephantine statue at the front of it made me catch my breath, and then spin around as I noticed others in less well-lit alcoves. Apollo closed my mouth for me.

  “But—but that’s—” I began, pointing at the statue that had first caught my eye, a huge ivory and gold representation of Athena Parthenos that had once stood in the Parthenon, if histories and the scale model in the National Archaeological Museum were accurate. Was it a reproduction or—

  “It’s the real thing,” Hades said, turning to see why we’d stopped. “The Turks looted it once upon a time. Hermes actually helped me steal it back, along with the statue of Zeus that once sat in his temple at Olympus.”

  I didn’t remember ever reading about the statue that held the place of honor—Hades on his throne, Persephone at his side—but he didn’t comment on that one and neither did I. In fact, he couldn’t even bring himself to look.

  Instead, he turned in a circle, surrounded by the heroes of old, making eye contact with as many as he could. “Men,” see, sexist, “I’ve called you all here because a new threat menaces the world. Many of the monsters you’ve faced and defeated in the past have escaped Tartarus. Rhea has awakened and has called them to her. The time for heroes is once again. Hermes and Pan—” he looked at us to confirm, “—Zeus and Poseidon wait to do battle with them. They need an army. Will you supply it?” This last he yelled, pumping a fist in the air to crank up the crowd.

  “Yes!” came the shouted reply, but it wasn’t unanimous, and there was some hesitation.

  Hades looked around again, assessing, studying, piercing right into their hearts. “I said,” he rumbled, “WILL. YOU. FIGHT?”

  The roar this time was almost deafening, as the men thumped their chests or beat on their nearest neighbor. The smell of testosterone was in the air.

  “Then come!” Hades strode to the foot of his monumental statue and stopped at the base of the throne to mutter a spell and carve symbols in the air. A door appeared in the base, and he pushed it in with a solid blow. The panel moved in and over, revealing such a stockpile of weapons I wondered what Hades had been stockpiling them for. “Arm yourselves,” he ordered.

  There was a bottleneck in the doorway as all the heroes tried to rush in at once—the Amazons, I was glad to see, near the head of the pack.

  I pushed my way through as well. I didn’t want to end up with the picked-over remains—a barbeque fork where only a trident would do and that sort of thing. I immediately went for the wall of projectile weapons. Hades didn’t have guns, oddly enough, which were the only weapons I was trained to use, but crossbows worked on the same principal—load, point and shoot. I could handle that. Apollo was right beside me, choosing a more traditional bow and two quivers of arrows. Finally, armed and fully dangerous.

  Clangs rang out as some heroes tested their steel against others, until Hades called a halt to it. “Follow me!” he called by way of a war cry. His voice bounced all around the room, and a cheer went up, drowning it out. Swords were raised in exaltation, and Hades looked oddly regal, his goth Don Johnson look replaced now with a bronze breastplate sporting a hydra’s heads decoration in raised relief. He’d chosen a sword nearly as big as he was, but he made it seem light as he swung it in a full loop and then pointed forward in the universal sign for “Charge!”

  We all marched after him as he led us from the Hall of Heroes, down the winding path and back through the agora. Some men stopped to kiss women or children—or remove swords and helmets from children who thought they’d come along. By the time we reached the diamond gates, only the warriors remained. The heroes and me, headed to face the monsters and men at least triple our sizes with bronze-age weaponry and a few gods for good measure.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You can laugh or cry in the face of danger. Laughter is far more disconcerting for the enemy.”

  —Pappous

  We met up with Hypnos and the others at the Archeron…or at least a riverbed with not much more than a trickle of water left at the bottom. The remains of what looked to recently have been a mighty river were splashed about the banks, wetting the barren rocks all around and slowly slinking back into the earth. Whether there had been a massive battle, the titans had drunk it dry or we were seeing the result of hundreds of feet, claws, tentacles and hooves crossing in a frenzied rush, I couldn’t tell. One way or another, the titans had bypassed the barrier and were headed into trouble.

  Hades stared in horror at the destruction of the Archeron, and when he looked to his son and the reinforcements he’d been able to gather, there was a fire in his eyes. Literally hellfire, and he gave off the stench of brimstone like he bathed in the stuff. Hypnos had managed a dozen or so hellhounds and a few unassuming gods in house black who I presumed to be relations based on the family resemblance. Now that I thought about it, myths had Hypnos breeding at least once—his son Morpheus, the Shaper of Dreams. But beyond that, my knowledge failed me.

  “They will pay for this,” Hades growled.

  He whirled, giving us the back of his hydra armor, and led the way through the nearly nonexistent river to the other side.

  The ground started to climb and the walls narrowed in as we passed by it, until w
e were moving only about four across. Part of the ceiling had come down where the larger titans had knocked their heads, so that smaller stones turned ankles and made the way somewhat treacherous, but no one went down. No one complained.

  The tension in my stomach ratcheted up with every step. I didn’t like this setup at all. A huge rockfall ahead or behind…or both…and we’d be cut off. Surely the titans would expect pursuit and leave us with a nasty surprise somewhere along the way.

  Apollo had slung his bow over his back in favor of another, more modern weapon. He had his cell phone out and was fussing with it.

  “I thought you said there were no cell towers in Hell,” I said, nudging him to get his attention.

  “There aren’t, but the way we’ve been climbing, I keep hoping we’re close enough to the surface to get messages in and out. We need to know what’s happening up there, and they need to know the situation down here and that help is on the way.”

  “Anything yet?” I asked.

  “No, dammit. I’ll keep trying.”

  Someone tapped my shoulder, and I turned to see the twins. “How ’bout now?” the green-eyed one asked. He seemed to be the ringleader.

  “Might be your last chance,” said the other. “We might not survive the battle.”

  Wow, were they the princes of romance or what?

  “I thought you were already dead,” I said wryly.

  “Do we look dead?”

  I really didn’t know how to answer that.

  A huge rumble up ahead saved me the trouble. The ceiling seemed to jump, like an ancient elevator finally hitting its floor, and then it buckled right overtop of us. I screamed like a girl and from the choral effect, I wasn’t the only one.

  A man lunged forward to catch the center of the dipping ceiling, his muscles bulging where his lion pelt exposed them—Hercules, once again taking up the mantle of the earth as he had from Atlas. I hoped he hadn’t gone soft in the intervening millennia.

  “Go!” he grunted at the rest of us. “I’ll hold it up. Just go!”

  “You heard him,” Hades said. “Go!”

  The army moved around Hercules. Sweat was breaking out across his brow, and I could make out not only every muscle, but every vein and artery.

  “Can you hold out?” I asked with no clue what I’d do if the answer was, “No.”

  He must have gotten the gist of what I was saying, “Don’t worry about me,” he answered. “Just get out of here. The sooner you go, the sooner all I have to worry about is me.”

  “We’ll be back for you,” I promised. I hoped I lived long enough to follow through.

  He nodded, as though another word would break him, and jutted his chin toward where the others had disappeared, signaling us to go.

  Apollo grabbed me, and I ran after the others, trying to ignore the creaks and groans of the stone ceiling above, the jagged shards of rock still falling here and there like icicles to shatter on the ground.

  I almost jumped out of my skin at the sound of a phone ringing. Apollo grabbed it out of his pocket and answered on the run. “Yes?” He listened for a second. “We’re on the way. We should come up behind them. And for Olympus’s sake, tell Zeus to stop shaking the earth—at least until we’re above it.”

  He hung up. I guess whoever was on the other end already knew the titans had broken free.

  “Who was that?”

  “Hermes. He says get there as fast as you can and that it’s not Zeus doing the shaking.”

  “Great.”

  A rock pinged off my head, but I hardly registered the pain with all the adrenaline flooding my system. Ahead of us, people were calling out warnings and slinging boulders, pulling them away from the cave-in at the exit. We were already one hero down, but the others had it covered. All Apollo and I could do from the back of the field was stay out of the way of flying rocks.

  When they’d cleared enough room to crawl out, Thanatos insisted on leading the charge, his sword raised before him to skewer anyone in his way. With a great cry, he pelted up out of the ground, the heroes echoing him as they followed.

  Apollo and I climbed over the rocks in our way and blinked into the sudden sunlight, our sight clearing onto chaos. We were on the field of the Pythian Games that capped the sacred sight of Delphi at the very top of Mount Parnassus. My natural fear at the height clashed with my precog alarm klaxons for a sickening, blinding panic attack that threatened to take me down, but I didn’t have time for any of that. The battle was already in progress, the titans towering above our force of Hellenic heroes who’d rushed into the action, weapons drawn.

  I couldn’t see our allies—gods and goddesses, my friends and family—all the way across the field, opposite our titanic foes, but I could feel the electricity in the air. I desperately hoped that meant Zeus and Poseidon had joined our team. I wondered who else had been recruited.

  Something at the edge of my vision caught my attention, and my head swiveled as a figure rose into the air, great black wings unfurling, batlike in construct, but feathered along the struts where on a bat there might be fur. But at its core was something very familiar…

  Hypnos? It looked like him, all punked out with spikes and piercings, but the wings…they were new. Or maybe there just hadn’t been cause to reveal them in the cavelike Underworld. But now…he was magnificent. He flapped the wings just enough to hover above the battleground, and as he did, he began to sing, something atonal and…not flat, but bottomless. I blinked again as the air began to ripple, like a Hollywood intro to a dream scene or mirage. His wings beat the rippling air toward the titans. Those closest began to sway, as if he were sending them to sleep. Then there was a raptor-cry from within the melee and a second winged figure rose up, this one from among the ranks of titans—a flying female, half woman, half bird of prey.

  She flew at Hypnos, and as they grappled in the air, his waves ceased. The titans shook off their strange affect, and renewed their attacks with double their ferocity. We couldn’t stay on the sidelines. I just had to figure out where we’d do the most good.

  There!” Apollo said, as if he’d read my mind. He pointed to a spot of high ground that would have been a spectator section during the Pythian Games where the Amazons were already spreading out for a good clear shot at our enemies.

  I nodded, took two steps in that direction, and seized up as something took control of my body. No, not something…

  Rhea.

  I cried out a warning to Apollo, but it came out just a strangled sound. He whirled, though, in time to catch me as I fell forward, fighting Rhea for control. Losing.

  And then suddenly I was pushing Apollo away with a strength not my own and swinging for him in a way that would snap his head around…and maybe a few vertebrae. He caught my fist before it could connect, but in that instant my other hand lashed out, aiming for something a lot more vulnerable. My hand like a talon, I caught and gripped Apollo’s bait and tackle, twisting mercilessly. His eyes got big and betrayed, and he started to buckle to the ground. I let go and used the fist he’d been holding to knock him aside. Even as he rolled, my leg shot up, ready to stomp down on him, but he did the unexpected. He rolled back toward me, grabbed the stomping leg and twisted. I went down on top of him, but kicked hard as I fell, managing to land a blow on his thigh, very close to those bits I’d already manhandled. His eyes filled with pained tears and I—Rhea—rolled away and shot to my feet, reaching for the bow and arrows strapped to my back.

  Rhea loaded a crossbow bolt and pointed it down at Apollo, straight at his heart. Weapon cocked and ready, my gaze zeroed in on the sight, preparing to pierce him through.

  Frantically, I fought to regain control of my body, flinging myself against invisible barriers, trying to get through to myself or even just mess up the signals, to save Apollo as he’d saved me so many times. I might as well have been a firefly beating at a glass jar.

  Something flew up into Rhea’s peripheral vision, but she didn’t blow her aim by looking. I starte
d to release the bolt, knowing that this was it—that Apollo’s death would break his hold on Delphi, the naval of the world. Rhea would capture the lashing rein, Delphi’s power once again hers to command.

  My panic meter went to eleven.

  The pain struck from out of the blue—a bolt to the chest. So stunning it took a second to register anything but that I had missed the shot, which had gone wide. Rhea looked down in disbelief to see an arrow sticking out of our chest, just inches shy of my heart.

  She bellowed in more anger than pain, and immediately wrapped a hand around the shaft to pull it out.

  I smashed through with everything I had, knocking her hand away. The shock was all that allowed it, I was sure.

  Apollo kicked my legs out from under me as I stood there wavering, my body ready to topple as Rhea and I fought for control.

  I went down in a heap and my sight caught on what had moved in my peripheral vision—a winged boy, teenager anyway, all tussled hair and shining eyes, wearing little more than a bow and arrows. Cupid? I’d been downed by Cupid?

  My vision started to swim as Apollo kicked the bow out of my hand.

  “Tori?” he asked.

  He looked strange from this angle—him up, me down, the rising sun behind him lighting up his hair like a halo around his head. Put him together with Cupid’s wings and he’d look like an angel.

  Was I delirious with pain?

  “She’s not my only one,” Rhea’s voice issued from my lips, and then she was gone.

  I was left cold. So cold. Numb. I could barely feel the pain anymore, and I wasn’t sure that was a good thing with no Hecate available to heal me.

  “Go,” I said, faintly. Breath was hard, and I thought I felt fluid in it, like maybe the arrow had pierced something never meant to be pierced. “Fight. Win.”