I cast him a sideward glance. “That is a given, but no…something else.”
He turned to stare at the side of my face as I looked back out over the river. “What?”
The weight of that single word pressed down upon me. “A reason to defeat Phobos.”
When he did not respond, I dared to turn and face him. The myriad emotions I found in his eyes were nearly too much to bear.
“You have many reasons to defeat that asshole,” he countered, an edge of caution in his tone.
“I do, but none as great as you.”
“Explain.”
“It is quite simple. My father would grieve for me, but he has his wife, and if I perished, I should go to his realm upon my death. He would see me again, as would my brothers. My absence would be harder for them for various reasons, but they, too, would overcome the loss, as they have overcome the deaths of so many PC warriors. But you,” I said, my body inching closer to his as I spoke, “you would feel that absence in a way that they would not. I think it would haunt you every minute of the day and reduce you to the fallen angel I met when I arrived in Detroit. I fear that not even the possibility of seeing me in the Underworld would fill the void. I fear what you would become should I disappear…”
By the time I finished, my face was only inches away from Oz’s, the two of us sharing the air that was thick with emotion and things unsaid.
“But you fear nothing, remember?” he said, voice low and thick and pained.
“There is so much that I fear now,” I replied, “and the loss of you might be the greatest of them all.” I reached for his face, fire burning in my belly at the thought of losing him. Heat flared through my palm the second it met his skin. But it was not a fiery flare; rather, a smoldering heat.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, pressing closer, “and neither are you.”
His fingers tangled in my hair before I even saw him move. He pulled me forward, closing the small gap between us until our lips crashed together, a desperate kiss to rival all others. Where lust or need or emotion had spurred us on in the past, this was born of feelings I was at a loss to describe. How sadness and passion and love could blend together in such a seamless way was foreign to me, and yet they sat on my soul like they belonged there together. As though this were normal.
I clutched his face like releasing it would ensure losing him forever. And that was a fate I would never choose.
Not unless his life depended on it.
The clearing of a throat behind us pulled us from the moment, and we turned to find Hermes standing near the mouth of the corridor that led away from the Styx.
“You need to come with me,” he called, his voice traveling over the soft rushing sound of the river. “Now.”
“What is going on?” I asked as I stood. “Why are you here?”
“Your brothers sent me.”
“They would have had Trey bring them if they needed something.”
“Then this Trey must be indisposed because they summoned me to send you a message.”
I stared at him for a moment. “But they do not know how—”
“Muses does,” Oz corrected, “and he’s only a call away.”
“What is the message?” I asked.
“I am to tell you to go to the Victorian immediately. That the situation with your mother has turned.”
Oz and I were up and sprinting through the halls at the mention of her.
“What has happened?”
“They did not bother to tell me the details,” Hermes replied dryly. “I’m sure you can imagine why.”
“She is finally fading.” I turned a concerned look to Oz and found the same expression on his face.
“How could a Light One fade?” the messenger god asked as he kept pace alongside us.
“Something is not right with her soul,” I said. “It was damaged or taken when she was attacked. And I cannot heal it.” We rounded the corner to the Great Hall, and I cursed under my breath. “The Light used magic to return my mother to her former glory. If we had not slain them, then perhaps they could have explained the ritual they performed.”
Hermes’ sudden laughter trailed behind me, and my rage flared. Though we needed to return to the Victorian, my anger required an outlet first. I turned and grabbed him by the throat. His head cracked loudly when I slammed it against the rocky wall and snarled in his face. “What is so funny?”
“Release me and perhaps I will tell you,” he replied in a garbled voice. Then the tip of Oz’s wing breezed past my face to hover just in front of Hermes’ heart.
“She asked you a fucking question.”
“If you want the answer, then we will need to stop and collect Demeter along the way.”
I relaxed my grip. “Why?” I asked, confusion tainting my tone. “Why would we need to do that?”
“Because it was not the Light alone that restored Celia after Ares’ influence sullied her pristine wings. She needed the soul to remain, but magic to contain it—”
“And Demeter was the one to do this?” Oz asked, shifting anxiously at my side.
Hermes shook his head.. “No…Khara killed that being, or more specifically, her brother did. Hecate helped the Light bind the soul within her, and she lamented the fact that she’d ever helped your mother when she was above. Demeter, clever little goddess that she is, listened like a hawk. She asked how Hecate could use her death magic to accomplish such a thing. My love gladly outlined the process for her, her hubris clouding her judgment, as it so often did. She was too drunk with the power she thought she was about to claim in the Underworld to care. Then she went there and met her fate.” His eyes narrowed. “Thanks to you.”
“It was Casey that killed her, not me.”
I released Hermes and raced for the Elysian Fields. The veil let me pass without interference, and I searched the vast area for my adoptive mother. She was easy to spot near the entrance, her head hanging low, angled to the ground.
“Is it true that Hecate told you how she reinstated my mother’s Light status?” I asked, startling her. She stood to face me and notched her chin high.
“She did.”
“Then I am glad we did not kill you. Yet.” I grabbed her arm and hauled her toward the veil.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, sputtering as I raced her toward where Oz stood waiting.
“Testing your listening skills, Mother—”
“Unhand me!” She tried to pull away, but my grip was like iron.
I stopped and thrust my face into hers. “You are going to help save my mother without argument, or I will see to it that the Oudeis is where you live out your eternity once I end you with my bare hands, is that understood?”
Before she could reply, I hauled her away again.
“Help her how?” she asked, rushing to keep pace with me.
“Fix whatever is wrong with her soul.”
Her gasp cut through the silence of the Elysian Fields. “Hecate may have gloated about her actions and walked me through how she was able to do it, but though I know the steps, Khara, I do not possess the kind of magical ability necessary to accomplish the task.”
We pressed through the veil to find Oz and Hermes waiting, the former’s countenance twisted with concern and the latter’s full of mischievous delight.
“You may not,” Hermes said, staring at her, “but Hecate’s usurper does.”
She scowled at the messenger god, and I wondered if it was because she hated him, as most did, or if she was angry that he had sold her out—forced her into a position to have to help me for the second time in her life.
“We need to go,” Oz said, leading the way to the Great Hall and the Acheron beyond. Hermes followed as we whisked Demeter to the far side of the violent river and landed on the shore.
“I imagine I’ll see you again soon,” he said before he took flight and disappeared for the second time that evening.
I grabbed Oz’s arm in my free hand and channeled Trey’s ability. Sec
onds later, we were on the front porch of the Victorian.
15
“They’re inside,” Cass yelled from across the street.
Oz tore the door open and ushered Demeter and me inside, where we found my mother lying on the couch in the living room, being courted by death, as a black-winged being sat by her side.
“How is she?” I asked as I rushed over. But it was plain from the extreme pallor of her skin—the pasty grey that infiltrated it—and the shallowness of her breath that the end was nigh.
I reached behind me and grabbed Demeter. “You will help her or you will die. It is that simple.” My brothers looked from her to me. “I can will the details of Hecate’s conversation from you by force, if you would prefer, or you could—for the second time in your wretched existence—do right by me.” I glared down at her as her anger gave way to fear. “Know that if I do reach into your mind for those details, I will not leave it unharmed.”
“I will do as you ask,” she replied through gritted teeth.
“Good. Now, Casey,” I called, “you must help, too. Demeter cannot do this without you.”
One look at the pain in my eyes and he was at my side. “What do you need?”
“It was your mother, not the Light, who performed the ritual to fix my mother’s soul.”
“She did not fix it,” Demeter interrupted. “Whatever your mother lost when she turned Dark is still lost. Hecate merely corralled and bound the soul that replaced hers. This allowed her to live as she once had. It kept her from succumbing to the darkness ever again.”
“But she has not become Dark,” Pierson observed, and my mind reeled, Phobos’ words niggling in the back of my mind.
“Then maybe it is not damaged,” I whispered. “Maybe it is gone.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Demeter said, her tone harsh.
“Khara,” Casey called, pulling me from my ruminations, “what do you need me to do?”
“I need you to be your mother—to use what you have inherited from her to do what needs to be done to save mine.”
His lips pressed to a thin line as he grabbed my shoulder. “I don’t know how—”
“But I do,” Demeter said, cutting him off. “If you do as I say, Celia might have a chance.”
Casey looked at me, and I nodded. “She knows the necessary steps.” I turned to look at the woman who had been charged with raising me, the woman who had never cared for me—never loved me. “And she knows what is at stake. She will guide you, or her fate is sealed.”
Casey’s black eyes seemed to darken as he glared at Demeter. He knew what it was like to never have a mother’s love. It seemed that murdering his had not quieted that resentment—had not sated that anger. He would do anything he could to make sure that the one who loathed me would help save the one whose love I had only just come to know.
“All right, Demeter,” he said, stepping to my dying mother’s side, “what do I need to do?”
Everyone in the room moved to give them space except for Kaine, Oz, and me. The three of us hovered like dark omens around the couch, helpless to do anything of use.
My mother’s fate was in the hands of one I trusted and one I barely tolerated.
“We need to know if there is indeed still a soul inside her and if it is reusable or not,” Demeter said. Her wary gaze turned to me, disgust curling her lips. “It will need to be removed and assessed while we prepare her for the binding process.”
“Then I will take it out and heal her,” I said, stepping closer to my adoptive mother. As she had once before, she scurried back to keep the distance between us, as though my darkness were a plague she did not wish to catch. As though her being were too pure to be tainted by that which tainted me.
The irony was so thick I nearly choked on it.
“Be sure you do what Hecate told you to the letter…it is not only my mother’s life that hangs in the balance.” I hovered over where my mother lay on the couch, eyes pinned on Demeter. “If anything happens to her because of your incompetence—or something more nefarious—know that I will end you without a thought. Whatever distaste you have for me, mine exceeds it where you are concerned. Perhaps, just this once, you could be the savior Ozereus thought you would be when he delivered my infant self to you. Perhaps you could try to be a fraction of the parental figure Hades has always been, if for no other reason than to secure your own continued existence.”
Before the stench of Demeter’s fear could invade the room, I crouched down next to my mother and took her hand in mine. “Do not worry,” I whispered to her as I tried to convince myself not to, as well. “It will all be over soon.” I could feel that she would not have long after I drew out whatever, if anything, remained of the soul residing inside of her. I would have to heal her to allow Casey and Demeter to work without interference because time was of the essence. One chance was all we would be afforded.
There would not be a second if we failed.
My mother pulled her hand from mine and stroked my hair back from my face. “Whatever happens, Khara, know that I love you. And that I’m sorry…”
I felt Oz shift closer, his leg brushing against my sweater. “It’s time, new girl.”
I nodded as my mother’s hand grazed my chin, then came to rest on her chest.
With my eyes closed, I exhaled to clear my lungs and my mind. Then, with a soft and focused inhale, I called to the soul residing in my mother. The pull was met with a tug of resistance, as though it were stuck. It grew until it felt like an animal clawing for purchase as a predator threatened to drag it away. My brow furrowed as I sucked air into my body with increasing force. The soul shuddered as its grip on her body loosened until it finally gave way. It flew down my throat like shards of glass and settled into my chest like a wounded, wild being desperate to escape.
Never had a soul reacted this way—fought so hard to be free—and I wondered if its feral desire to survive had been siphoning my mother’s lifeforce away. I gasped at its violent thrashing inside me, and I fell away from my mother’s side, Oz’s legs steadying me.
He crouched beside me, his face in mine. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes sharp and his body coiled.
“It feels angry,” I said, looking from him to my mother. “The soul…it is discontented...violent. It wants to escape me.” My mother’s eyes fluttered shut, and I pushed toward her, my concern over the soul a problem for later. First, I had to heal her.
As I had many times before, I laid my hands upon her and channeled the energy of the Healer. The familiar warmth spilled forth into my mother’s body, and she stirred. I looked down at the soulless Light One. She would not last long unless the angry one inside me was settled and returned.
“It is done,” I said to Casey and Demeter.
“Is it intact?” she asked.
“It is strong and unruly. It should be fine. Now, work quickly. Celia does not have much time.”
The two of them—one determined, the other fearful—nodded, then set about the task. Demeter muttered directions to Casey, and he listened intently, absorbing her every word. He, too, understood the risks at hand.
“Hecate was very clear that the spell must solidify before the soul can be introduced,” Demeter said with authority, “for if it does not, the soul will take over the body, and the host will no longer be who she once was.”
Casey’s eyes narrowed, his focus as sharp as the blades strapped to his chest. “Then I’ll make sure it’s fucking solid first.” He stooped down at my side and assessed my mother once, Demeter’s words undoubtedly running through his mind until he owned them. He took a steadying breath, then placed his hand over my mother’s heart and began reciting a spell in the ancient tongue of the gods—the one they used only amongst themselves. Hades had spoken of it once, but refused to use it unless necessary, his distaste for it plain. But my brother, who could not have known those words without Hecate’s power in his veins, said them as though they had left his tongue many times before.
They flowed like honey from his mouth, and I could feel the swell of magic growing around us, much like I had the day Persephone, Hecate, and I had freed the souls from the Oudeis. It grew in strength with every passing moment, until a visible golden meshwork of light hovered above his hands, twisting and swirling like a living thing.
“Yes,” Demeter said, her hushed voice cutting the silence in the room, “keep going. This is exactly as she described it.” She turned her cold stare to me. “Khara, be ready to do whatever it is you do and place the soul inside the gilded cage.”
“I think we’re close,” Casey said, his voice strained.
“Showtime, new girl,” Oz whispered in my ear.
The soul that had fought against my call suddenly went still inside me. “It is time for you to return,” I told it, “and this time, you will stay where you belong.”
With a deep inhale, I prepared to force it from me, but the second I began to exhale, that familiar sensation of claws against flesh tore through me again. First, it had not wished to be taken; now, it did not want to be returned.
“Khara,” Casey said, caution in his tone, “it’s ready…and I can’t hold it forever.”
“I am trying,” I replied, no lack of warning in my own voice.
“What’s wrong?” Oz searched my face for the problem, as though it were written in my expression. I said nothing and instead focused on putting the soul into its cage. With every passing second, I could see my mother growing deathly pale, her breaths slow and shallow.
“You will leave,” I growled at it. I swore I felt it roar back. “Something is wrong—I cannot put it back.”
Oz went rigid, and Casey swore. “You need to give me a soul, Sis, or your mother is going to die,” Casey said, as though I were not aware.
It took only a moment to realize a plan.
I had another soul to offer in its stead. I reached past the struggling beast in my chest and found Artemis waiting—all but begging to be chosen. I plucked her from her spot and ripped her past the other. Without a fight, she flew out of my mouth and into the room, her inky black, smoky form twisting in the air above my mother.
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