Reborn Series Box Set (Books 1-3.5)

by S. L. Stacy

  Dolos had told me that the secret ingredient for the cure was love. I guess he really had been trying to give me a clue, I realize, sadness and regret sweeping over me, not for the first time tonight. It won’t be the last time, either.

  Or maybe he wasn’t actually trying to help me. He was probably getting off on the fact that he could give me a clue like that, knowing that I wouldn’t get it, would mistake it for teasing. Don’t give him the benefit of the doubt, I tell myself as Moira helps me to my feet. That wasn’t the Dolos you knew, the side of him you could trust. He told you himself that his alter ego had completely taken over. He wasn’t trying to help you. He was jerking you around, just like he always does. Did.

  “You told me that I would have to choose,” I say to Moira as I brush the dust and grime of the street from my clothes. “My sisters or my lover. You were right. Everything you said came true.”

  “You sound surprised.” Her voice is low but gentle, still tinged with a faint, unfamiliar accent. I guess she wasn’t faking it, after all.

  “I…didn’t believe you,” I admit, glancing behind her to avoid eye contact, for the first time noticing the violet Volkswagen Beetle left idling next to the admission booth. I hadn’t realized Dolos had chased me clear back to the entrance to Playland. “I thought you were a fraud.”

  “Hmph,” she says with mild annoyance. “You’re lucky I don’t hold grudges.”

  “Thank you, Moira.” I look back at her, meeting her gaze head on, hoping she can see in my eyes how sincere and grateful I am. “Your predictions were my guide tonight. I don’t know what I would have done without them.”

  Moira bows her head in appreciation. “You’re very welcome.”

  “And thanks for coming all the way out here when you got your vision. You didn’t have to do that. I wish…I wish there was something I could do for you in return.”

  “Well.” A sly smile toys with the corners of her rose red lips. “Since you brought it up, there is a little something you could do for me.”

  “Anything.”

  Hands clasped neatly in front of her, Moira tells me her request. “What do you think?” she asks when she’s done. Although her demeanor is calm, there’s a tenseness to her shoulders as she leans toward me, awaiting my response.

  “I’m…flattered,” I exclaim, shaking my head in surprise, “that you would think I hold that much sway with Farrah, but honestly I haven’t had that much interaction with her, personally. I can certainly try to help you with this, but I’m not making any promises.”

  “That you try is all I am asking.” She unlocks her fingers, smoothing back an errant curl with long, glittering nails. “Carly, until now, I have been a traveler of this world. I have had many valuable experiences, but have been feeling rather…aimless as of late. Restless. I need a change. A purpose. I have been stranded here for ages, and yet have never really found a place that I would call home.”

  “Stranded?”

  She nods. “When the walls were first put into place between your world and mine, I was standing on the wrong side. Since then, I’ve had to make Earth my home, but I’ve tried not to get too attached to any one place, or any one person. It kept things simpler that way. And, just as my visions aided you tonight, the Fates have always been my guide, showing me what may come to pass—the good, the bad and all of the possibilities in between.

  “But recently, the visions They’ve bestowed upon me have been filled only with upheaval and despair. A future filled with darkness and death. It must be stopped, and I know I can help. All you have to do is get me an audience with Farrah so that I can make my case.

  “Now, let’s get you home,” Moira continues without waiting for me to reply. She turns, the cloak swirling around her like a heavy, blue smoke. “We haven’t another moment to lose. Your friends will meet us there,” she adds in response to the question I was just about to ask. I bend to scoop Godslayer off the ground, then follow Moira to her car, sheathing the legendary sword along the way.

  “You were wrong about one thing, though,” I say once I’m situated inside the violet Bug, seat belt clicked into place. Moira casts me a doubtful sideways glance. “About the beast. You said it wanted me—that it wanted to devour its prey. But the gorgolus wasn’t any sort of monster. She was smart, and gentle. She helped us.”

  The seer sighs impatiently, twisting in her seat to face me. “Sometimes, Carly, monsters live in here,” she explains, tapping a finger against her temple. Then, she places her hand over her heart. “Or in here. And those can be the hardest to vanquish.” With that, Moira turns away from me, shifting the car into drive. We take off.

  Chapter 20

  Back at the Gamma Lambda Phi house, I unzip my pack, emptying the contents onto the table.

  After parking her car in my currently empty spot in the campus parking garage, Moira and I walked over to the sorority house together, reuniting with Dionysus, Apate and the gorgolus—who was back in invisibility mode—outside. We brought the creature into the basement for the time being, until we find a more permanent home for her. With the fragility of the walls, we might not be able to open a portal to send her back to her real home just yet.

  Since most of the surfaces upstairs are taken up with birdcages, I’ve brought everything I’ll need for the antidote down to the basement so that I can spread out. The piece of parchment with the recipe is unfurled on the table, pinned down with a white cereal bowl. My book of pressed flowers is open beside it. Upstairs, I can hear Dionysus and Moira’s muffled voices as they strategize next steps. Apate is curled up on the floor at my feet, looking sad and rather bored as she watches me work. I start with the vial of river water from the Cocytus, imagining I hear a faint cry of anguish as it spills out, filling the bowl about a quarter of the way.

  Picking up Farrah’s bottle of ambrosia, I suck up some of the amber liquid into the eyedropper cap and squeeze about ten drops into the water. After further thought, I add ten more. Ambrosia is potent stuff, but—mixed with the other ingredients and spread out over thirty people—it should be okay. I’m more afraid of not using enough. Then, I draw a kitchen knife across my palm, slicing it open and letting a stream of blood trickle into the bowl. It fizzles as it hits the mixture of water and ambrosia, instigating a chemical reaction that results in a rather unappetizing-looking, dark brown liquid.

  After cutting myself, the “tears to cleanse” come easily; I hold my face over the bowl, letting a few tears splash into the mixture. It turns from brown and murky to colorless and clear once again.

  Feeling a bit like a witch making a magic potion, I open the vial containing Jasper’s bright orange starflower pollen next and sprinkle some into the liquid. The powder sparks as it hits the surface, dissolving a moment later. Then come the asphodel leaves, which I rip up into a few tiny pieces before throwing in. They disappear upon impact as well, the mixture giving off a silvery smoke.

  Using one hand, I carefully sweep the dried clusters of heliotrope out of the book into the palm of the other, making a fist to crush them and scattering the faded purple flakes into the antidote. It turns a deep purple. I mix it a few times with a spoon for good measure, trying not to think about how weird (and a little gross) this combination of ingredients really is as I gingerly pour it from the bowl into a fresh glass vial.

  I draw some of the antidote into the eyedropper cap. “Are you ready to put your four-legged days behind you?” I ask, looking down at Apate. She lifts her head eagerly, opening her mouth wide. I dispense a few drops onto her pink tongue.

  Apate makes a face as she closes her mouth, swallowing the antidote. Almost instantly, the sleek, black fur covering her slender body starts to bubble, her legs and paws elongating, her delicate ears sliding down the sides of her head. The transformation looks painful and, to be honest, pretty disgusting, and I have to turn my head away, cringing at the sound of her cries, somewhere between a cat’s and a woman’s. If the starflower pollen is really supposed to help ease the pain of th
e change, I’d hate to hear what she’d sound like without it. The last thing I see before I look away is the black hair start to recede, smooth, pale skin rushing up to replace it.

  “Ah. Fuck,” I hear several minutes later. The exclamation is followed by a series of gagging noises, and when I look back over, Apate is bringing her hand down from her mouth, staring into her palm. “Fur ball,” she says, throwing a matted chunk of fur and saliva into the trash. Bile rises in the back of my throat. I should have waited a little longer before turning around.

  Disoriented, Apate’s green eyes scan the basement in confusion. It takes me a few moments to realize she’s completely naked, and I look away again, feeling myself blush. I don’t know what I expected—it makes sense that whatever clothes she was wearing when she transformed wouldn’t have changed with her. I’m pretty sure I’m more embarrassed than Apate, who is standing tall, her chin up and shoulders back as she looks around. From what I glimpsed, she has that curvy-in-all-the-right-places silhouette men love, the glossy sheets of black hair draped over her shoulders giving her an even sexier, edgier look. I feel a brief stab of jealousy, but it’s over as soon as I hear Apate’s voice crack, and I remember that she’s just lost her brother.

  “Oh, my God.” At first, her voice is barely above a whisper. When I glance over, she’s doubled over, hugging herself. “Oh, my God!” she shrieks, a river of tears falling down her face. “Dolos. Oh, my poor, lost brother. Dolos.” She closes her eyes, moaning his name over and over again. The misery in her tone awakens a fresh wave of grief inside of me.

  “I’m sorry.” Feeling suddenly vulnerable, I take a step back from her. I’m the reason her brother is dead, after all. “I’m so sorry. I—I was confused. The hallucination was so real. I didn’t know what I was doing. You have to understand—”

  “I don’t blame you,” she assures me. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Anger and sorrow comingle in her eyes as she adds, “I blame Eric. That fucking bastard. This is all his fault. We tried…we tried to break away, to make it on our own, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. Eric still got to him, and now my brother is dead. It hurts.” She squeezes herself more tightly, closing her eyes. “It hurts so badly.”

  “I know.” I drag the back of my sleeve across my cheeks, mopping up tears. “It hurts me, too—”

  “You don’t know.” Apate scowls, eyes flying open. “You and Dolos were friendly for a while, he flirted with you—you think that’s even remotely the same as the bond we shared? He was my brother. My twin. You can’t even be feeling half of the pain I am right now. I feel like I’ve been fucking ripped in half! Like a part of me is dead!”

  They say words can never hurt you, but I can feel each one of her words right now, like a flurry of punches to my gut. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. I didn’t mean what we felt was exactly the same. Just that I’m really sad, too.”

  Looking repentant, Apate shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. It’s just…I never thought I’d feel this way. My heart is broken.” She holds my gaze when she adds, “I know my brother, Carly, and—for what it’s worth—there was a time when he really did care about you. I even think he loved you.”

  I break eye contact, unable to look into her emerald eyes—so much like her brother’s—any longer. “Let’s find you something to put on. I don’t know what your next move is, but I have to administer the rest of the antidote. Also, Farrah and Athena will probably get back soon, and you might not want to still be here when they do. Apate?” When she doesn’t answer, I look back over. “Apate—no!”

  She looks at me through a tangle of black hair, hunched over, the tip of Godslayer pressed underneath her breasts. Focused on making the antidote, I had completely forgotten about the sword, which I had propped up against the table.

  “I don’t want to live without him,” she says, knuckles turning an almost translucent shade of white as she tightens her grip on the handle. “I can’t.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she impales herself with the blade. She gasps in pain as she wrenches it back out, letting the sword fall to the floor. Frozen in shock, I gape as a plume of blood spreads from the wound, a scarlet stain on her milky white skin.

  Apate lists like she’s about to faint, eyelids fluttering. “Tell Siobhan I’m sorry for what I did,” she says quietly. Then, just like her brother, she turns to dust.

  I sit down on the floor in a daze, watching specks of Apate drift in the air before vanishing. This is how Dionysus finds me—staring into space, as still as, and probably as pale as, a corpse—when he comes jogging down the stairs.

  “Carly! What’s going on? We heard yelling and…” He hesitates, eyes going from me huddled in the fetal position, to the fold out table covered with empty plastic sandwich bags and vials, to the sword lying on the floor, and back to me again. “Where’s Apate? I thought she was down here with you. Carly.” Grabbing my shoulders, he gives them an urgent shake. “Carly! Snap out of it!”

  “D-Dolos is dead,” I stammer, hugging my knees to my chest.

  He kneels in front of me, forehead creased with concern as he studies my face. “I know that. It was the first thing you told me when we got back here. Remember?”

  “Dolos is dead, and now his sister is, too.” I glance at the sword. The ceiling lights play along its long, dark silver blade, but it’s giving off that strange, red glow again, burning more brightly than it was when I first pulled it out of that rock in the Underworld. “I made the antidote. Gave some to Apate, and she changed back. Then I watched her kill herself.”

  When I look back at him, Dionysus is working his jaw, clearly at a loss for words. “I’m sorry, Carly,” he finally says. “Are you okay?”

  I bury my face in my hands. “No.”

  Gently, he peels my hands away, then clasps the sides of my face with his own, much larger hands, forcing me to look at him. “I know you’re upset. And it’s completely understandable, but Carly—we have less than an hour until Eric’s army opens that portal and starts a war. We have to get this antidote to your sisters and stop them. We have to stay—”

  “Focused,” I finish for him. “I know.” I get up stiffly and go to the table, closing the book and cleaning up a little bit. I’m just going through the motions, feeling robotic, almost like someone else is in control of my body, while inside I stay frozen. Capping the antidote, I turn toward the stairs. “Let’s go—”

  I have a foot on the first step when the gorgolus lets out one of her desperate, tremulous moans. She had been huddled in the corner, sleeping—or at least I thought she was—but is now on her feet, waddling toward us.

  “Hey,” I say, patting her snout. “We have to go for a bit, but we’ll be back…soon. You’ll be safe down here. I promise.”

  She cries again, yellow eyes flitting between my hand and my face. Not my hand, I realize. The vial. Just to be sure, I bring it closer to her.

  “You mean this?” She rumbles in acknowledgment deep in her throat, moving her head up and down. “Oh, God. Not you, too.”

  Dionysus leans against the banister, brow knotted. “What is it?”

  “I don’t think this is a real gorgolus. It’s a person.” I feel conflicted as I look into the creature’s shiny yellow eyes. She’s done so much to help us, to help me, but I’ve already given some of the antidote to Apate, and I’m afraid I won’t have enough for all of my sorority sisters.

  A second later, I’m unscrewing the cap, inwardly scolding myself. Of course I’m going to give her some. I can’t let her be trapped inside this beast when I have the means to free her. Seeing me suck some of the liquid up into the eyedropper, the gorgolus eagerly sticks out a fat, black tongue.

  Almost immediately after I administer the cure, her wrinkled flesh starts to ripple, her large body shrinking. Dionysus and I turn to give her privacy, exchanging grimaces at the sounds of muscles and organs shifting, of bone splitting and grinding. The gorgolus howls in agony, the animal-like cries eventually giving
way to more human screams and gasps.

  Then, suddenly, silence. Dionysus gives me an uncertain look. We’re both wondering whether we should turn around yet or not.

  A woman’s confused voice breaks the silence. “Di…Dionysus?”

  He goes rigid. At the same time his eyes fill with disbelief, he has this look on his face like he’s just heard the most beautiful sound in the universe. I can tell he’s holding his breath as he turns around.

  “Sibby?”

  “Sibby?” I echo, watching him rush over to the young woman sprawled on the floor. As in his dead girlfriend Sibby?

  This night could not get any weirder.

  “Here. Put this on.” Dionysus crouches next to her, yanking off his shirt and holding it out for her. Sibby sits up, looking at it in confusion. “Hold your arms up.” She does, and he helps her ease the t-shirt over her head and arms.

  “It itches,” she says, pulling it the rest of the way on. She runs tentative hands over the black material. “And it’s sweaty.”

  “Oh, Sibby.” Dionysus doesn’t seem to hear her complaints, pulling her into a tight embrace and burying his face in her neck. “I thought you were dead. When I tracked the gorgolus, all I saw was lots of blood and bits of your clothing. I thought—”

  “I know.” Sibby massages his hair with long, graceful fingers, her eyes watery. “I know. I have a lot to tell you, but I don’t think now’s the time,” she says with a glance at me. He nods, pulling back to look into her face. Still clinging to each other, they stand up, both seeming afraid to look away—like if they do, the other one will disappear.

  “Well, I’m gonna…go,” I say awkwardly, cocking my head toward the stairs. “Give you guys some space. You deserve some time alone together.”

  “Wait, Carly. Please.” Sibby gives Dion’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze before leaving his arms, walking over to me. As she’s model tall, his shirt is just long enough, covering her most private areas, but it looks baggy over her thin frame. She’s long limbed and dark skinned, her black hair sheared close to her scalp. Slightly pointed ears and yellow-orange eyes, flashing like a tiger’s, give her an almost ethereal look.