by Bree Despain
I look at the beer bottle in my hand. If there is one thing I’d want to numb myself from remembering, it would be the moment I found those scars on his arms. The moment I went from wanting him to realizing he’s a sick freak. A sick freak who I kissed!
Now that’s a memory I’d like to erase.
I should have listened to Tobin’s warning to stay away from Haden. He probably really is from a long line of wack jobs. Even Joe seems to think he is a bad person … if he is even a person at all …
He’d even called Haden the devil.…
I shake my head at the possibility of even entertaining Joe’s drunken ramblings. I’ve never been a religious person, and the idea that a living, breathing incarnation of the devil is walking around Olympus Hills and practicing duets with me is about as crazy as believing in fairy tales, or even Greek mythology, for that matter!
I dump the last of the beer down the drain, wash the scent of it off my fingers, and go to my room. I don’t need to escape reality; I need to figure out what the hell is going on.
I flop down on my bed, ready to call Tobin—hoping his phone isn’t still turned off for the musical showcase—and admit that he’s probably right, when I see my iPad sitting on my night-stand, where I’d left it after studying last night. I turn it on and the text from my mythology book appears on my screen. I remember how defensive Haden had been that first day in humanities class when I tried to compare the Greek mythological character of Hades to that of the Christian devil. It was almost as if he had been offended.
Isn’t it supposed to be gods who can strike people down with lightning?
Haden, a god? That is even more preposterous!
I do a search in the mythology book for all the references of Hades. More in an attempt to put my mind at ease than to prove this line of thinking correct.
Haden already has two strikes against him as far as this Hades theory goes. First, he’d already admitted to being part Greek. And second, there is the name thing. Haden is only one letter off from Hades. But that feels a little too on the nose.
I scan the first page that references Hades, but it is merely a genealogy chart of all the gods. I go to the second reference and find a physical description of the god.
Hades, god of the underworld and brother to Zeus, is usually depicted as being extremely tall, standing at least seven feet in height …
Haden is tall. At least six feet four. But being tall doesn’t make someone a supernatural being. I mean, look at me.
… with a muscular build.
Another check mark for Haden. It had been a little hard to ignore his muscular build when being held in his arms.…
Hades is most often depicted as having a dark beard, and pale skin from spending most of his time in the underworld.
Haden doesn’t have a beard, but his hair is definitely dark and his skin is pretty pale for someone with an olive complexion—almost like he doesn’t get out in the sun much.
Physical objects attributed to Hades are a chariot pulled by four fearsome black stallions …
Haden has a black car, but that is hardly the same as having a chariot and horses.
… a bident, the Key of Hades, and a three-headed dog named Cerberus.
Ha. There. Haden doesn’t have any of those things. And he has the world’s smallest cat, not the giant, snarling, three-headed dog that is pictured in my book.
Hades’s most impressive possession is the Helm of Hades, a special helmet or cap that can turn the wearer invisible.…
This one strikes a strange chord inside me. I’ve never seen Haden with a hat, but I remember the way he seemed to materialize out of the shadows the first time I met him in the grove. And then there’s what happened when I was backstage at the auditions. I’d been completely alone, and yet it had felt like someone had been back there with me … some invisible presence.
I scan the rest of the pages with references to Hades. I reread the story of Hades’s abduction of Persephone and can’t help ruminating on Tobin’s theory about those girls—his own sister included—who have gone missing whenever Lord family members happened to be in town.
But there’s nothing in the book that says anything about Hades having the ability to produce and throw lightning. The only Greek god with that power is supposed to be Zeus.
I laugh derisively at myself. This is insane! Maybe there really was some sort of poison—or psychotropic drug—in those cookies Lexie gave me. My laugh takes on a harder edge, almost a sob, and I know that I am on the verge of a full-scale freak-out.
Tobin is right. I’d allowed my judgment to get clouded, just like he’d said. I’d let Haden in. I’d kissed him.
I’d almost fallen for him.
I may not know what Haden is, but something is definitely wrong in Olympus Hills, and I have no doubt now that Haden and his family are at the center of it all.
Which means that now I am, too.
chapter forty-five
HADEN
I enter the house through the garage. Simon’s car is gone, but Dax’s Roadster is here. I slam the door so hard, the windows shake. Dax is sitting in front of the TV in the family room. He sits up when he sees me come in. Concern mars his face. Laughter echoes from the television. I grab the remote and fling it against the wall. The screen of the TV goes black.
He shoots up from the couch. “Haden?”
“Where the Tartarus were you tonight?”
“Out.”
“Out? That’s all. That’s all you’re going to give me?”
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“Yes, something happened,” I hiss at him. “And it’s your fault. If you’d been here to patrol the festival for the Keres like I’d asked, then none of this would have happened!” I try to push him. Hard. But he grabs my shoulders. Dax has always been stronger than me.
“What happened?” he asks.
“It’s all ruined. All of it. It’s over. She’s never going to trust me again. She’s probably never even going to look at me again.”
Dax lets go of my shoulders. He has the audacity to look upset. Joe wouldn’t have been attacked if Dax had been there. I wouldn’t have had to expose my powers in front of Daphne.
I take a swing at him. It’s an impulsive move, and I think I’ve caught him off guard for once, but he grabs my fist midair. He uses it to force me into one of the armchairs. “Sit down. Shut up. And tell me what exactly the Tartarus happened!”
Dax doesn’t raise his voice often, but when he does, it has the same effect as a punch to the jaw. Reason returns to me, and I realize there’s no one to blame for what happened tonight. Not Dax, not Daphne, not Joe, and not even myself.
I had made the prideful mistake of thinking I had any control over any of this. What had happened had happened. No matter how I disliked it, it was what fate had wanted.
“What I don’t get is why would fate choose me for this quest, and then rip away my chances for success right when everything was starting to come together?”
“Maybe you’re supposed to go down a different path,” Dax says. “Maybe because you’re supposed to make your own fate.”
I glare at him. “That’s blasphemy.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Does anyone really know?”
“You’re addled.”
“You still haven’t told me what happened.”
I’m quiet for a moment. “She kissed me.”
“Nice,” Dax says. “How is that a bad thing?”
“It’s what happened afterward.…” I launch into the story of Joe being attacked by the Keres and how I killed it.
“You killed it?” he asks, interrupting me. “You killed a Keres? Are you sure?”
“It exploded into a thousand little pieces. I’m pretty sure it’s dead.”
“How?”
“I don’t really know. It’s like it had a reaction to Daphne’s voice or something. It became solid just long enough for me to blast it.”
“That’s intense.”<
br />
“Tell me about it. I don’t even know what I would have done otherwise.”
“You still haven’t gotten to the part where Daphne kisses you,” Dax says. “Get to the goods.”
As amazing as Daphne’s kiss had been, I can barely muster the words to tell Dax the rest of the story. He lets out a low whistle when I get to the part when Daphne saw my scars and ran away.
“I can see how that would complicate things. She probably thinks you’re a total nut job.”
“A what?” I shake my head, getting it. “Never mind.”
“So what are you going to do now?”
“What can I do?” Fate had brought this down on my head. Perhaps as punishment for my acts of disobedience? My hubris? “She’s never going to talk to me again.”
Dax starts to say something, but a dinging chime rings through the house. I stand up, searching for the origin of the noise.
“It’s the doorbell,” he says.
“Ignore it,” I say.
“I bet Garrick forgot his keys.”
“Let him sit in the cold for a bit.” I don’t want Garrick to be a part of this conversation. He’ll probably go squealing it all to Simon.
Dax sighs and heads for the front door. I sit back in the armchair and bury my head in my hands. I’d been a fool for ever thinking I could pull this off.
“Seems I was wrong,” Dax says, coming back into the family room. “And so were you. You have a visitor, Haden.”
I tug at my hair and look up at Dax … and find Daphne standing right next to him.
She crosses her long, tanned arms in front of her chest. “I want answers,” she says. “And I’m not leaving until I get the truth.”
Daphne has planted herself beside one of the armchairs and shows no signs of leaving anytime soon. I pull Dax aside.
“What am I supposed to tell her?”
“Try the truth.”
“I’m not supposed to do that until the Eve of the Return.”
“I’d say your ox is in the mire.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“It means that based on the dire circumstances, an exception is in order.”
“As in, I’m harpied if I do, and harpied if I don’t?”
“Exactly. Always best to go for the truth in these situations.”
I drag my hand through my hair and turn toward Daphne. She looks at me expectantly—but not in a good way.
I huff out a big sigh. “So … this is going to sound a bit addled.… But … you see …” I look at Dax, hoping he can help me find the right words. He just shrugs. Damned useful guide he turned out to be. “Here’s the thing. I’m not from around here, and I’m not from the East Coast, either. I’m from somewhere much farther away than that. I’m from—”
“The underworld,” Daphne says, finishing my admission for me.
“Ummm … what? How did you know?”
“It was kind of a stab in the dark, but thanks for confirming it.” She taps her fingers on her arms. “Still not sure I believe it, though.”
Dax makes a gurgling noise like he’s either choking or laughing. “I told you I liked this girl.”
Daphne looks at him, her eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”
“This is Dax. He’s my cousin, sort of,” I say. “But you’ve probably seen him around school. He’s a guidance counselor. Mr. Drool.”
“Hey,” he says. “That’s Mr. Drol. Though I do see my mistake in name choice now.”
“No,” Daphne says, shaking her head. “I haven’t seen you at school. Have we met elsewhere?”
He shrugs.
“He’s supposed to be my guide. But you’re not helping all that much at the moment,” I add pointedly to him.
“Guide? As in, you’ve been here before?”
“Yes,” Dax says.
“Six years ago?” Her voice has an accusatory edge to it, and I realize the direction she’s headed with this line of questioning. Tobin’s sister. That isn’t a road Dax and I want to go down at the moment. Not if I want a chance at salvaging this situation.
I clear my throat, stopping Dax from responding. “We were talking about the underworld.…”
“Oh yes,” Daphne says. “So are you a god or something?”
I almost laugh. “No.”
“You’re not Hades, then?”
“No.”
“Who is Hades, then?” Her eyes flick to Dax. He shakes his head. “Does he exist?”
“He did.”
“Did?”
“He’s dead.”
“Gods can die?”
“If you take away their totem, yes. But we’re getting off topic.”
“Who are you, then?”
“I am Lord Haden, son of King Ren—the current ruler of the underworld. Champion chosen to fulfill a sacred quest.”
Daphne steeples her fingers. “And let me guess. That quest is to bring me back to the underworld so I can be your queen or something?”
Her expression is cool and calm, and I wonder if she’s really as unfazed about all these reality-rocking revelations as she seems. For the first time since she walked away from me this evening, I wonder if I still have a chance of pulling this quest off. Of convincing her to come with me. Maybe this is the way the Fates wanted it to be. I am not to be a failure, after all.
Hope rises in my chest. I can practically taste the nectar I will be served upon my victorious return. I can see the expression on my father’s face when he will be obliged to offer me the seat at his right hand instead of Rowan. All I have to do is make Daphne understand.
“Yes, in a way. I was chosen by the Oracle. I’ve been sent here to convince you to return with me. You are my Boon.”
Daphne scowls. “Your Boon? Like your prize?” A shakiness creaks into her voice, and I realize too late that she’s not as cool with all of this as she’s been pretending to be. “That’s disgusting. That’s beyond wrong.”
“You’re not just a prize,” I say, lifting my hands. “You’re not just any Boon. You’re the Cypher.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t exactly know. We have a theory.” I glance at Dax, but he doesn’t jump in to help me. “I’m supposed to take you to the Underrealm so you can help the Court of Heirs find the Key of Hades. It’s kind of vitally important.”
“Take me?” Her voice wars between sounding angry and afraid. Anger wins out. “You think you can cut my name into your arm and act like I belong to you? You think you can just take me?”
“No,” I say, trying to step closer to her. She moves away, putting the armchair between us. “I made that mistake once—when I tried to grab you in the grove—but I won’t make it again. Coming with me has to be your decision. I need your consent. You have to say yes.”
Daphne stands up straighter, pulling herself to her full height. I wonder if anyone has ever told her she looks like an Amazon warrior when she’s angry.
“Then, no,” she says.
“Pardon?”
“You’re some fancy-pants prince. Go tell your king daddy or this Oracle or whoever that I say no. Tell them to choose somebody else.”
“I can’t, Daphne. I can’t just choose somebody else. Number one, because nobody would listen to me. I’m not exactly the Court’s favorite person. And secondly, because you were chosen by the Oracle. You were chosen by fate. You’re the Cypher. This whole thing is a whole lot bigger than you and me.” I can feel it in my soul how important this all is. “You can’t just say no. This is your destiny.”
“It has to be my choice but I can’t say no? That’s some pretty messed-up logic, you know.”
“This has nothing at all to do with logic. It’s about destiny. Our destiny.”
“Shove your destiny. I don’t believe in destiny or gods or oracles—even if they are real. What I believe in is myself. In my choices and my plans. I’ve got my plan for how my life is going to turn out, and it certainly doesn’t involve being dragged
down to some mythological world of the dead. So my answer still stands. No.”
“What if the fate of your world depended on it?” Because if Garrick is right and the walls of the Pithos are falling, and bringing Daphne to the Underrealm is the only way to stop it, the Fates of both her world and mine are hanging in the balance.
She grips the edge of the armchair so hard, it looks like she might pierce through the fabric with her fingers. “Then I’d say, find another way.”
“There is no other way. This is what the Oracle decreed, so it’s what must be done.”
“Actually,” Dax says from the couch. The expression on his face makes it seem as though he’s been enjoying a really good show. “There might be another way.”
“What?” Daphne and I say in unison.
“Well, not another way, per se. But perhaps a way to find out some more information on all of this. See if there is another option even available.”
“What is it?” Daphne asks.
“What if you could talk to an Oracle again?” Dax says to me.
“She resides in Elysium. That would be impossible.”
“There’s more than one Oracle, Haden. You know that. Even one or two in this realm.”
“If we could find one, what difference would that make? The Oracle of Elysium has spoken. Her words have been sealed.”
“Not all Oracles speak from the same source,” Dax says. “Another one might be able to give you more information. Look at things from a different angle. Let you know what other options might be available to you. If any.”
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Helping.”
“How is this helping? You can’t make her think there are other options when there aren’t.”
“You don’t know that unless you find out for yourself.”
“It isn’t my place to find out for myself.”
“Yes, it is, Haden. You’ve been conditioned all your life to obey without questioning. To treat your father like he’s the new Hades. Like he’s a god. They tell you your impulsiveness is your weakness, but it’s not. And I never should have encouraged you to restrain it. Your impulsiveness is your greatest strength—because it’s the only time you think for yourself.”