And he’s crying.
We’ve stopped drinking from each other, but the connection isn’t going anywhere. I know why he’s upset.
What he saw.
I’m reeling from his memories, as well.
Heart shredded by facts I’m not ready to assimilate, yet.
Kles lifts himself up and wipes at his wet eyes. He drags his hand across his stained-red mouth next. “Fuck, Meg. What was that? We drank each other’s—”
I’m unable to meet his sorrowful gaze. “We aren’t vampires. Not . . . for others, at least.” We only want each other’s blood. That’s a given. “Whatever that was, it was something else.” A bond of some kind? Connection.
“Shit, Meg.” His exclamation brings my head around and I catch him staring at my neck. He grabs my chin and turns my head to the side. “White, gold, black. Baby, that’s my . . .”
Aura.
And there’s a mark on my neck marching those colors.
I would know. My eyes caught sight of a blue, purple, and maroon design on the side of his neck, too. Where my teeth had sunk into him. “We really need to find Hades. More than ever.”
“Look at me.” Kles tilts my head back toward him.
I scurry out from under him. “Now, please.”
He acquiesces with a solemn nod. “He can tell us what’s really going on.”
“Yeah.” I duck my head to avoid his stare.
We change into our armor simultaneously and renew our search of the underworld.
A fruitless exploration.
We have a final task to complete and it’s obvious at this point that he doesn’t want to be found.
Most likely until we’ve taken care of his old guard dog.
Problem? We were never given the coordinates to where Cerberus is!
We materialize in the corridor where Apollo’s cell is located. Kles is in front of me, storming down the hallway. He’s hyper focused on locating Hades, but it’s not surprising when he jerks to a stop upon noticing where we are.
Especially since his brother is busy writhing on the floor of his cell, chains clanking.
Kles heads to those bars, brow furrowed. “Apollo?”
There’s a blinding luminescence beginning to resonate from that cell.
From its occupant, too.
Apollo presses the bony heels of his palms into his eyes, teeth bared. Beneath his skin, that light burns through, creating cracks along his flesh.
In his chest, there’s a concentration of that glow curling into itself.
A sun preparing to implode.
Kles grabs hold of the stone bars and tries to rip them apart. “Apollo!”
“Kles!” I run at him. Grabbing him from the back, I yank him away from those bars. We slam in the opposite wall, pulverizing it.
A scream rises in pitch—Apollo’s scream. Suddenly, the explosion of light that follows burns the top layers of our eyes and skin off our face and the ground quakes with the force . . .
Just as quick as it began, it’s suddenly over.
I lurch away from Kles. He catches me in his arms although neither of us can see and we just hold each other as our skins and eyes begin to heal.
It takes a while, but eventually our vision returns.
What we find is something I doubt I’ll ever forget.
Not because the pile of ashes left in the cell, beneath the silver cuffs that survived the blast, is gruesome or anything, but how it affects Kles.
The rumors, those random pieces of intel I was able to collect over the years, stated that his relationship with Apollo had been inimical. Apollo hadn’t adjusted well to having Herakles join the ranks in competition for their father’s approval.
Yet as Kles moves me gently aside and shuffles back to those bars, there’s definitely echoes of grief in his expression. Not only that, but I can feel his surprised sadness through our new connection. Grabbing the bars again, he lets his head hang low. “He did it. Hades fucking killed my brother.”
I cross my arms to resist the urge to comfort him. “Uh . . . Maybe. But Apollo might’ve also found a way to finally end himself. He was hurting for a really long time, Kles,” I finish in a small voice.
Slowly, he releases the bars, the heaviness of regret thick in the air around him. “I didn’t try to look for him. I never tried reconnecting with any of them, you know? I was just so angry.”
About me.
That left out part of the statement comes through, instant knowledge in my veins.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter now.” He turns away from the pile of ashes that was once the God of the Sun. “We have to find Hades to finish the last ta—”
Andddddd there goes another portal, manifesting out of thin air in the passageway in front of us. It gains strength, yet we’ve been through this enough times to know the drill.
Hades, although he hasn’t shown himself, is summoning us to our new location.
Wherever Cerberus is.
Kles raises an eyebrow at me, a look I return, and together we decide to take the bull by the horns.
Running toward the portal, we let it suck us straight through.
Is this . . . it’s a cramped bathroom, and if the sounds from outside are any indication, we’re in a bar. “Seriously, what in the hell?”
Kles throws his head back into the wall gently, exposing his scarred jaw and marked neck to my stare; I still can’t wrap my mind around that swirling design and how it’s made up of the colors my aura consists of. “If we’re where I think we are, fighting him is about to cause an interspecies disaster.”
“Where are we?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a major city I hear outside the bar. I think we’re back in New York.”
He’s right. It’s pure mayhem out on the streets, traffic and humans and a million other noises.
New-York-Freaking-City.
Shit.
Thankfully, we were deposited in this bathroom, out of sight of the crush of humanity.
Sighing, I change out of my armor. Kles does the same, both of us donning regular street clothes. At least for now. If a fight’s truly what awaits us out there, we’ll have no choice but to change.
If we’re allowed.
Fuck my life, another factor to consider.
Kles is considering it, too. “Okay, a shield it is. It’ll hide us from the humans when we exit this bathroom together.”
Back into our armors we go and I summon the Harpe, as well.
That tell-tale ripple flickers momentarily through the air. Kles opens the door gently and we rush out to avoid human detection. As per our suspicions, it’s a classical pub-like establishment. We head past the oblivious mortals as they enjoy their drinks and food. The lights and flat screen TVs flicker as we go by, reacting to the invisible shield, but most of them barely pay attention.
They were always clueless, but the age of the Smartphone has truly ruined their species. There’s so much happening, both in “their” world and ours, and they can’t be bothered to tune in to any of the changes around them.
There’s even rumors throughout the immortal realms that The Age of Man on this planet will soon come to some kind of end—and that they, in their obsession to remain entertained and self-absorbed, are either aiding that end, or will simply lay back and let it happen.
Out on the streets, we pause on the sidewalk, trying to avoid the humans passing us. Street lights and their devices react to the proximity of the shield. Nothing we can do about it, though. It’s better than being spotted in full battle-regalia by the very beings our kind is supposed to keep in the dark. “Can you sense where he might possibly—”
There’s no giant, three-headed wolf nearby, but a voice does travel on the wind, and from the lack of reaction around us, only we can hear it.
“Come, children. I’m right over here.”
Our heads turn in the direction it came from.
Somewhere half-a-black away and across 7th Avenue.
Okay . . .
>
We had to deal with some crazy shit during this quest. That’s a given. Yet to hear the once silent guarddog of Hades beckoning us from somewhere on these New York streets is disconcerting.
Our kind really can’t afford an immortal fight in view of this many witnesses.
And that voice is Cerberus.
Kles nods at me to indicate his certainty of this, as well.
He maintains the shield around us as we cross the street. Ironically, although what must be thousands of humans are rushing by, the figure we’re seeking isn’t hard to spot.
Hell, of course he isn’t. That isn’t a giant wolf-like dog with three heads over there.
It’s a male, his back turned to us, curly hair flowing down his back.
The aura of ancient power around him is undeniable. Not just a sign of his immortal status, but a unique ambience that always surrounded him as he stood guard at the entrance to the underworld.
“Yes. It’s me. Now come. There’s much that needs to be discussed.”
Discussed?
Not like we have much of a choice. There’s no avoiding this now.
We head to where he stands, apparently observing one of this city’s most well-known landmarks—the red HOPE sculpture on the corner of 53rd Street. Either he’s hidden from everyone but us by his own shield, or he’s found some other means to mask his presence.
None of the humans stopping to pose in front of the sculpture seem to register him at all.
I study his hands, folded behind his back, and the multitude of gold rings encircling his fingers. No one ever told me Cerberus had died, but it’s a mind trip to see him incarnated as an immortal male.
“I wasn’t incarnated, Assassin. I have simply been allowed to take on my original form once more.”
Kles and I stop maybe five feet from him, studying these two additional developments.
He cannot only speak into our minds, he can read them, too.
And he claimed that this is his original form.
So, Cerberus is . . . a shifter?
Considering those three wolf heads and body in his best-known form, that would make him some kind of werewolf.
He chuckles, shoulders bouncing. “If you only knew how many of us there are. Who happens to be one, as well.” Lips stretched in a friendly smile, he turns.
These humans definitely can’t see him. They’d be tripping over themselves to take pictures with the “dude in that insane costume”. Only we know it’s not getup. The same reddish-bronze eyes from his wolf form crinkle at the corners. On his regal, Middle Eastern countenance, he’s sporting thin, maroon tribal markings—two down the middle of his forehead and two smaller lines under each eye.
His thick, curly hair is held back in a half ponytail with the rest flowing over his shoulders. Faded scar lines cut across his right eyebrow, another across the bridge of his otherwise perfect nose. The trimmed, black beard hugging his jaw is also bisected by a scar.
Immortals don’t scar that easily, at least not that type of superficial flesh scar, which leads me to believe that this male was once mortal.
“You both are so surprised,” he comments smoothly, actually speaking this time instead of projecting his voice into our minds, smile fixed in place. The ginormous gold chain around his sternum catches the light, as well as the fist-sized purple jewel at its center.
“You really are Cerberus, aren’t you?” Kles asks.
Cerberus lifts his eyebrows in a “what can a guy do?” expression. “You would know. You are the one that strangled me unconscious to drag me out of Hades.”
“Hades sent us to kill you,” I throw in. “You must’ve done something truly heinous for him to want you dead.”
Kles shakes his head. “I don’t think we were actually sent to kill him. We’re here to make a deal, aren’t we?”
What is he talking about?
Cerberus’ grin stretches across his face again. “Yes. You are.”
I stare at the two of them, perplexed by that weird understanding that seems to be emanating between them. “And how do you know we’re here to make a deal with him and not kill him?”
“He was in my dream.”
“Was I?” Cerberus shrugs. “It’s reported that the succubi-induced dreams can be quite prophetic.”
“You know what I am.”
“Of course I do, Madness. It leaks from you profusely.”
Kles points to me. “And I’m assuming that means you can tell us what’s in her.”
Cerberus studies me from head to toe. “I’m aware of what she carries, but it’s not my place to answer that. Only my master can.”
I bristle at that. “Your ‘master’ designated you as one of our targets. You’ve been part of Oi Exi from Day One.”
“I’ve been . . . what’s the term? Ah, yes. ‘Undercover’. They aren’t the only ones that have been causing problems.” He watches the mortals pass. “Argus, Minotaur. So many others out there that will need to be dealt with.”
He says this as if it’s the most pressing of matters, but the serenity he exudes is at odds with that. “So then why would Hades send us to you?”
“I’ve been authorized to make a deal with you both. One that will lead you to the answers you seek.”
Hold up a second. I smell another Hades-deceit thick in the air. “He’s supposed to die after we’re done with you. Making another deal means elongating his life.”
Cerberus nails me with those eyes, challenging me. “Come now. I think you know those marks on your necks assure his survival.”
I was uncertain, I’ll admit . . . “What do the marks mean, then? T-the thirst?”
“I’m sure you heard of the term ‘mating’ before. Bonding. Same thing. As with everything in this universe, there are many different versions of it. Either way, you two are connected in a way that’s irrevocable now. A symbiosis, if you will, that calls for each other’s survival. Killing him would mean killing yourself, Megara.”
Just a week ago, I would’ve hopped right on that. My hatred was that absolute.
However, the same connection he’s describing keeps sending me information. Like small whispers piercing my perception.
How do I murder a male whose life has been so empty . . . without me? Fuck.
Kles’ questioning stare burns into the side of my face.
I ignore him. What else can I do? We still don’t exactly know what Cerberus wants of us and now isn’t the time for me to explore the fact that my destiny has suddenly shifted yet again. “So what is this deal, then? What do you want from us that Hades hasn’t already taken?”
“There is someone of great importance to me sequestered in the first of the three underworlds—”
“What? Three?”
“I think I saw one of them in that dream,” Kles mumbles.
“There are, and always were, three underworlds. Hades’ is the second. I need you to descend into the first and lure out a male that’s refusing to rejoin the living world.” The sadness that reflects in Cerberus’ eyes makes me curious who this male is to him.
“And you need us to undertake this journey together?” Because if it isn’t necessary . . .
“That thirst you now both share for the other demands it. From here until one, or both, of you dies, thus taking the other with them, you will need to take sustenance from each other. There will be no more separating the two of you.”
A fire truck speeds by, horns blaring, and hey what a perfect backdrop to that fucked up announcement.
My eyes fly around to Kles and I wonder if he can see the level of panic written all over my face. So, what? I’m practically—irrevocably—married to this asshole now?!
His throat bobs with a heavy swallow, like he knows I’m two seconds from a nuclear meltdown and suddenly he can’t look at me. “What if we say no to this?”
“Yeah,” I jump in desperately. “What if we say no?”
Cerberus doesn’t seem concerned about us turning him down. “There’s so much
at play that I can’t even begin to explain to you both. However, considering who you both are, I can swear to you two things. First? That path will lead to every answer to any question you could ever ask. Secondly? If you do not take this path, the ripple effect will lead to tragedies you can’t even begin to imagine. Assassin”—he’s paying me a respect by using that title, instead of the term for my species that I usually despise, and I once again wonder if this male can read minds like Hades seems to—“do you not wish to get vengeance against the one truly responsible for what happened to you?”
Atë. “I’ll just demand that Hades tell me where she’s hiding in the underworld.”
He chuckles and I must admit, that smile of his is mesmerizing in its sheer openness. His joviality. “No one demands anything of that male. And the Goddess of Ruin is long gone from the underworld. Has been for ages.”
“Who would we be searching for in this ‘first underworld’ you mentioned?”
I glare at Kles for that question. He can’t seriously be agreeing to this.
“My son. He needs to leave his self-imposed prison. Whether he wants to, or not. He’s as needed as the rest of you.”
Kles’ lips part to give answer.
My own do, too, but to put him in his place for not taking my desires into account on this.
Cerberus holds up a hand, his demeanor that of a patient king. “No need to reply now. You can give your response to Hades in person.” He waves that ringed hand in farewell—
No wind this time.
No portal.
Simply the two of us being dragged through space and time against our will, only to reappear in Hades’ thrown room, feet from the lord of the underworld himself.
EPILOGUE
– Hades, The Greek Underworld
HERAKLES
“What the hell was the freaking point of that?” Megara yells at the male standing in front his throne. “You could’ve simply told us all that yourself!”
Hades is unperturbed by her anger. “I needed you to see Cerberus for yourself.”
Sacrifice Page 23
