“You are, indeed.” Pride stamped into every line of Tabitha’s body. “Asclepius was raised by Apollo, Erebus by Chaos. Twins separated at birth, later reunited. One is life, one is death. Last year, Chaos is said to have killed Asclepius with a thunderbolt he’d stolen from Zeus. He murdered Erebus soon after. Except, Erebus came back.”
One father dead and gone. One alive and well. Her stomach churned with sickness, and she gave her head a violent shake. “Does he know about me?”
“Yes and no. He told me I might conceive. That I could keep the babe as long as no one ever learned her origins.”
Had he wanted a child, though? “I won’t eat souls. I refuse.” What even was a soul? “I will accept the position of goddess, however.”
“The title of goddess is earned, not given, just like the title of General.” Her mother’s stare was piercing. “And you will do what you must to survive. To grow strong. Are most phantoms mindless beings? Yes. But they are created rather than born. You will have abilities beyond your wildest imagination.”
Curiosity got the better of her. “Tell me.”
“Erebus can walk in both the spirit and natural world. Whichever he chooses at any given time. He has only to dematerialize to become a spirit and spy on his enemies. He can kill with a glance, bring the dead back to life just as his brother did, and possess other bodies. Among other things. We don’t yet know what abilities you’ve inherited from him. Consuming souls will be a small price to pay for a single one. What matters more than strength and power?”
Nothing. She licked her lips. “Would he ever want to meet me?”
For a moment, her mother’s piercing stare wavered. “Let us hope not.”
But why? He might be impressed with Taliyah’s skill. And that’s something I…care about?
“I underwent this same ceremony, shedding one skin for another,” Blythe said, speaking up for the first time. The black haired, blue eyed beauty raised her chin—her irises! They were now specked with shimmering black. “If you’re like me, you’ll be able to push your spirit from your body, communicate with the dead, take the pain of others inside yourself, and recover from any wound except those made from a combination of fireiron, demonglass, and enchanted wood.”
Realization punched Taliyah straight in the chest, leaving her breathless. The ceremony. It was more than the bestowing of her moniker.
They planned to kill her and raise her as a phantom.
Kill. Her. Shedding one skin for another.
The shock of it all. Warring impulses hit her, one after the other. Flee. Protest. Cheer. In the end, she bit her tongue and remained silent. Nothing mattered more than strength and power. To walk in the spirit realm and spy on her enemies…to defeat an entire army with her gaze alone…to give slain loved ones new life…
She would do anything. Even become something she despised. “Where is Erebus now? Are there more daughters like us?” How many other harpies had the two gods impregnated?
“I don’t know where he is,” Blythe said, “but I know there are no others. I can sense the presence of phantoms.”
How had Taliyah never guessed the truth about her cou—sister?
“I, too, fight for the right to become General,” the girl continued. “When the time comes, we will battle each other, you and I. It will be a fair fight. Fair and right.”
“Fair and right,” Taliyah repeated with a nod.
“I will only ever use my new powers in secret—say it.” Her mother’s harsh command cut through the night.
“I will only ever use my new powers in secret,” she parroted.
Her mother asked, “Are you prepared to die to become the phantom you were meant to be, my daughter?”
No! “I…am?” Though she hadn’t yet lived a decade, Taliyah had already participated in two major battles. One with Sent Ones, the winged assassins of the skies, and one with the lycan. She’d witnessed and committed horrors her young mind still couldn’t process. She’d killed. She’d watched friends die, helpless to save them. If dying today meant better protecting the harpy clans tomorrow, so be it.
Harpies today. Harpies forever.
“I am,” she offered with more confidence.
Her mother offered a bone-chilling smile, then lifted both arms to rest her sword’s blade against her bended elbow. Tamera and Blythe followed suit, doing the same.
“May your end serve as your beginning,” Tabitha said—and shoved the fireiron blade straight through Taliyah’s heart.
Searing pain exploded inside her chest, every beat of her heart suddenly carrying her closer and closer to death’s door. Blood rushed up her throat, choking her.
“May your death serve as gain for all of harpy kind,” Aunt Tamera thrust the demonglass into Taliyah’s chest, just a few inches to the right.
More pain, the blood gurgling from the corners of her mouth. A chilling wind blustered inside her, clearing a path for the invasion of weakness. Her eyesight wavered, darkness closing in.
Blythe placed one foot in front of the other and bent her knees, preparing for attack. “May your return serve as an eternal reminder. The grave has no power over you.” She slammed the wooden stake beneath the other two weapons.
More pain. Agonizing. Excruciating. Unending. So dizzy. What remained of her warmth drained. Cold, so cold. What remained of Taliyah’s strength abandoned her in a rush. Falling. Impact rattled her brain against her skull. On her back, wheezing every hard-won breath, she peered up at the spinning night sky.
A loud ring erupted in her ears. Her heart thumped against the blades. Racing. Slowing. Until…
Stopping.
A veil of nothingness shrouded her mind, and Taliyah gasped her final breath, going lax.
Time ceased to exist. She floated in a sea of darkness, the barest pinpricks of light flashing here, there. Here, there. Here there. Faster and faster and--
Taliyah gasped as her eyelids popped open, the world she’d left coming into focus.
Her mother hovered over her, a slow smile of calculated delight blooming. “Your eyes are now the same icy blue as your half-sister’s. Congratulations, daughter. You are officially the second royal phantom-harpy in existence. You will do great things or die again trying.”
****
Need to know what happens next? Order your copy of The Warlord, available Spring 2021 wherever HQN books are sold!
Copyright © 2021 by Gena Showalter
ISBN-13: 978-0-369-70486-3
Second Chance
First published as Can’t Hardly Breathe in 2017. This edition published in 2021.
Copyright © 2017 by Gena Showalter
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