Innovation's Muse (Truth's Harem)

by Allyson Lindt

  Aphrodite appeared in front of her. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting, child.”

  Ambivalence surged inside. This goddess was capable of so much good, and so much deception in order to achieve her goals.

  “It’s all right. I figured you were busy.” Lexi was too weary to fake sincerity.

  Aphrodite waved her fingers, and a bench relocated, allowing her to sit across from Lexi, their knees only a few inches apart. “You don’t sound like you’re in the mood for chatter. What can I do for you? Ask anything, and if it’s in my power, you can have it.”

  Why are you so willing to help me? Why did you erase my memory before I met Actaeon? Why did you coerce me into having sex with Cerberus? Don’t you trust this fate you put so much faith in? All questions Lexi wanted answers to. If she started down that tangent of accusation, she was worried she’d piss off Aphrodite, and right now she needed one answer above all others.

  “I’m told you’re something of an expert when it comes to Hades.”

  A frown ghosted across Aphrodite’s face, before her pleasant smile flitted back in. “I have more information that most. It depends on what you want to know.”

  “Zeus says Hades can’t be killed, because he’s a god of death. But everything, everyone, every particle, can be destroyed somehow.”

  Aphrodite shook her head. “Not in Hades’ case. I’m sorry. And this recent string of deaths is helping him recover faster. I haven’t seen it, but I can guarantee that’s the case. The dead—hero, mortal, even those gods who died rather than getting destroyed—make him stronger. It was why he was always content to rule in the underworld. Why he never faded the way the others did. Death is that one thing in life that’s certain.”

  “I see.” Lexi’s gut churned at the idea. It was true, then. He needed to be locked away, and she was the only key they knew of. The real trick would be convincing the men to move forward with the plan regardless. “I guess... thank you for your time.”

  “That’s it?” Aphrodite searched her face.

  Lexi shrugged. The avalanche of other questions rushed back. Where to start?

  “How are things going with Icarus?” Aphrodite asked.

  A shiver of ice ran down Lexi’s spine. “Who?”

  “Oh, child. You’re a few blocks from his house. Traces of him are still on your lips.”

  Nope. Not possible. She’d been with Cerberus. She’d showered. Brushed her teeth... “How long have you known?” That was the last question Lexi wanted to ask.

  “Since the first day I met you. About all three of them.”

  It was a good thing Lexi didn’t bring Icarus with her. Fuck. “You didn’t think it might be a good idea to tell me, instead of twisting the situation and lying to me and manipulating me?”

  “Absolutely not. The way you’re reacting now? Do you think it would have been better if I’d said something? If you pushed them away out of spite, you might never know love—that elusive, incredible thing most people search for their entire lives yet never find. You would have surrendered it willingly.”

  “What about fate?” Lexi spat the last word.

  “Being fated for someone doesn’t mean you end up with them. I can’t see the future the way Cassandra did, but I can see the threads of fate that intertwine through love. The potential. The various outcomes. And if you didn’t meet these men in the order you did... It’s complicated.”

  Complicated. One of the biggest bullshit brushoffs ever. “Are you saying I wouldn’t have fallen for Cerberus? Because I’ve loved him for a long time. Since before I met any of them in person.”

  “I’m not saying otherwise. Cerberus is your heart, child. And the heart will wound you again and again, as long as you fight it. With Icarus, though, you would have become so wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world might as well have ceased to exist.”

  “First of all, I’m not fighting anything with Cerberus.” The words tasted sour, and Lexi didn’t want to examine why. “And you’re talking about what sounds like a dangerous obsession. I’m not that kind of person.”

  “You value your intelligence above all else. Your stepfather helped foster that in you, and Icarus is your mind. You trust your thoughts. You give your head the final say. And Icarus is the same.”

  No. Lexi didn’t see it. Wouldn’t see it. That’s your head speaking, just like she said. “You said fated love wasn’t a sure thing. You could be wrong.”

  “I’m not.”

  Anger surged inside Lexi. Part of it was at herself, for considering what Aphrodite had to say. For wanting it to be true. For denying it was. She directed all her rage outward. “Fuck you and your arrogance. You’re wrong. Icarus is a silly crush. He’s new. He’s different. That’s it. I’m the same to him. Something he’s never seen before. It’s not fated love. We’ll get bored with each other. I have Cerberus and Actaeon.”

  “I won’t argue with you about this.” Aphrodite stood. “You asked why I didn’t tell you. You’ve proved my concern was legitimate.”

  “Great. Fantastic. This has been super helpful.” Lexi let the sarcasm pour from her words. You’re being a brat. She was refusing to let someone else dictate the direction of her life. That wasn’t irrational. It was smart. “Thanks for nothing,” she said and strode from the temple.

  Frustration and anger churned inside, as she stepped into the afternoon. The sun warmed her face, but it didn’t do anything for her jumbled thoughts—the battle that raged between the bit of her insisting she only had herself to be angry with, and the part that wanted all of the gods to rot in Tartarus, for fucking around with her life the way they did.

  A high-pitched whine brought a halt to it all, and Lexi stumbled. What the fuck? She pressed a palm to her forehead, and the noise grew louder.

  It was sharp enough to fill her head and ache inside her skull. She stumbled again. Her knees slammed into the concrete, and a new pain jarred her.

  The whine grew louder. Like someone had recorded a scream, looped it, and jammed the speaker into her ear, to play at full volume.

  Her hands flew to her ears. She needed to lessen the noise. She brushed the siren earring with her palm, and the screeching intensified.

  It was so loud, she struggled to access any of her other senses. Objects danced in front of her eyes, but she couldn’t make sense of the shapes. The sharp tang of copper coated her mouth.

  She fumbled with the earcuff, but her fingers didn’t work. They refused to grasp anything long enough to be effective.

  “Stop.” She swore she spoke the plea, but the sound never reached her.

  Was that music, buried in the noise? It wasn’t a pleasant song. More of a chanted threat.

  It had to be a siren. But why?

  Answers could come later. Now, Lexi needed this to stop. Each time she touched the earring, the noise worsened. She gripped it and yanked. Pain jolted through her, but even that was muffled by the agony the music caused.

  Her ear would heal. She hoped. She forced herself to hold on as tight as she could, and ripped the cuff away.

  A new kind of agony spilled inside, radiating from the wound. Her hand was wet and sticky, and she tried to focus on it. Blood. That made sense. She was bleeding.

  The music didn’t stop. Was it louder now, or did the fresh wound just make it seem that way?

  “I didn’t anticipate seeing you again.” The voice blended with the screeching, sounding like a threat and a song at the same time.

  Lexi clenched her jaw and forced herself to focus on the words. To follow them back to an aura. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, with the multi-tiered assault.

  Her mind caught a strand of something ugly.

  “You’re also weaker than I assumed. I’m probably overdoing it,” the voice said.

  The noise faded to a dull roar, and Lexi’s world solidified. She wasn’t kneeling on the sidewalk anymore, despite what her knees said. Sand and surf crept up her calves. She looked up, to find Lorelei standing in front of her. A translu
cent cloud of an illusion—a stunning woman with porcelain skin—overlapped the siren’s true self, not hiding the twisted features.

  “What are you doing to me?” Lexi winced at the rasp in her voice. It even hurt to talk.

  Lorelei crouched, putting herself at eye-level with Lexi. “Breaking you.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Icarus felt the shift in the air when his mechanical portal opened. Cerberus was here since he left Lexi at the temple. It had been a couple of hours, so Icarus hoped she was getting a lot of good information. When she returned, she’d come through the front door.

  That meant the new arrival was Actaeon.

  Icarus glanced over his shoulder out of habit. When he saw Cassandra step through with Actaeon, surprise and concern replaced complacency.

  He didn’t appreciate the assumption that it was okay to bring her back here. One more bit of bullshit to deal with. Lexi was fucking with his head, thought he was convincing himself not to let her move in and take up mental space.

  Besides, he didn’t have the details behind why Cassandra was no longer dead, and she hadn’t been stable when she was alive. Her being with Actaeon... Who knew how the fuck that was going to play out?

  “Everyone knows everyone?” Actaeon gestured around the room.

  Cassandra smiled. “I believe so. Nice to see you both again.”

  Cerberus growled.

  Icarus didn’t blame him. “Are we inviting everyone? Should I make plans to expand the place?”

  “She has information.” Actaeon had angled his frame, so he was half in front of her.

  “Splendid.” Icarus wasn’t in the mood for this. “A lot of people have information. That doesn’t mean I want them waltzing into my place uninvited.”

  Cassandra looked around the room. “Where’s Lexi?”

  A chill raced up Icarus’ spine.

  “She’s visiting an old friend.” Cerberus’ voice was as much growl as words at this point.

  Cassandra shook her head. She almost looked regretful. “No she’s not. She’s done with Aphrodite.”

  “How do you—”

  “Oh fuck.” Icarus cut Actaeon off, as some of the pieces fell together. If introductions weren’t needed, she had her memory back. Which meant— “Do you have access to your oracle gift?”

  “I do. But that’s not how I know. Did Cerberus ever tell you the sirens made a pact with Hades?”

  “Sirens are neutral.” Actaeon sounded like didn’t believe his own statement.

  Cassandra’s frown deepened. “So are the two of you. Correct?” She looked between Actaeon and Icarus. “No one’s neutral in this war.” A hint of sadness ran through her voice.

  Cerberus shifted in a blink, a three-headed dog replacing his human form, and lunged. He knocked Actaeon aside and pinned Cassandra to the wall, one set of jaws latched onto her shoulder. “Where’s Lexi?” His question rumbled through the room.

  “I don’t know.”

  Actaeon summoned his dagger.

  Cerberus rested a second set of teeth near Cassandra’s throat. “You’re fleshy. We can make you suffer.”

  “And Hades can bring me back again and again.” Cassandra spat the words. “My answer doesn’t change. An oracle can’t see through siren magic.” She looked at Cerberus. “Hades promised her to Lorelei, in exchange for you. Nothing comes free. You know that.”

  Icarus didn’t know if he was more furious or ill over the situation, and he couldn’t deny the worry that raced through him for a woman he barely knew, but who haunted his thoughts.

  Cerberus’ form flickered, before solidifying again. “I paid my fee.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.” Cassandra looked at Icarus. “Make them tell you everything. Find her.”

  Fuck it. If she was going to string them along with what might not even be real, they needed to stop listening. Icarus pointed to a door a few yards away. “Put her in there.” It was a room on a different plane of existence, and it would hold most heroes. He hoped she hadn’t picked up any skills he didn’t know about, that would allow her to break the door down.

  Actaeon grabbed her arm and led her to the room, slamming the door and flipping the lock once she was inside. He turned back to Icarus and Cerberus. “How are we supposed to find Lexi?”

  “Your bond works like any other servant’s bond, doesn’t it?” Icarus asked Cerberus.

  “It does. But she has to open her mind for me to get in, and I can’t sense her.” Cerberus shook all three of his heads and was human again.

  “Damn it.” Actaeon threw his dagger, and it embedded itself in a far table.

  “Watch it.” Icarus wouldn’t have his place destroyed by a foul temper. “Stop freaking out, and walk through this with me. Cerberus, keep your mind as open as you can.”

  “And explain what Cassandra meant when she said this was in exchange for you,” Actaeon said.

  The way Cerberus was glaring, he might as well still be in dog form. He had the deathly challenging stare down. “She’s your psycho girlfriend. You tell us.”

  Icarus wasn’t going to referee this match. Actaeon would win, and Lexi would be upset, and Icarus wasn’t in the mood to clean up puppy parts. “It only matters if it tells us where Lexi is. I doubt that’s the case.” He needed to think. What did they know? “Sirens have to follow the same rules as the rest of us. Their power works on an audible frequency, but they’re not gods. They need a gate, like any daimon, to take someone with them to a new place.

  “And that”—Icarus nodded at his gate—“is the only one in this town.”

  Cerberus let out a long sigh. “Which means, unless Aphrodite moved Lexi, she’s still here.”

  “Do we go door to door, asking if anyone has seen a siren?” Actaeon looked like he was considering the ridiculous idea.

  Icarus didn’t blame him. If Cerberus couldn’t feel Lexi, they weren’t left with a lot of options. Asking Cassandra more questions and hoping she told the truth? Which one was the bigger waste of time?

  Few things made Icarus feel more powerless than a lack of answers.

  ACTAEON LET RAGE SPILL through his veins, as he stepped into the room Cassandra was locked in and closed the door behind him. The hinges and seams vanished, and they were in a four-walled white box, with a matching floor and ceiling.

  “You didn’t think to mention this about Lexi sooner?” He spoke through clenched teeth. “As in, any time in the last several hours, when I could have done something about it?”

  She watched him with wide eyes, the stench of fear radiating from her. “I didn’t expect it to happen yet. I thought, if I came back here, I could tell her directly. She sees the truth of the now, right? I didn’t think you’d believe me, but she’d see I was telling the truth. She’s not supposed to already be gone.”

  “Stop.” He clenched his fist until his knuckles ached. “All these masks and moods you’re wearing... How in Tartarus am I supposed to believe anything you say?”

  She shrank back against the wall, gaze never leaving his face. “I’m not... I can’t... What is this place?”

  “I don’t know. Something Icarus dreamed up. Don’t change the subject.”

  “I can’t hear him in here.” Her voice was tiny.

  “Who?” But Actaeon already knew the answer. “Hades. What did he do to you?”

  “I told you. He brought me back. He rebuilt me, to be his vessel. To get to you.”

  Actaeon couldn’t do this. “Where’s Lexi?”

  “I don’t know. With Lorelei. That’s the best I have. I really am sorry.”

  “I’m sure.” He hammered the side of his fist on the wall. The door appeared as it opened, and Icarus let him out.

  “Time for the door-to-door approach?” Cerberus asked.

  Actaeon moved into the room, and jiggled the temporary-prison door handle to make sure Cassandra was locked in. “Yes.”

  Icarus stepped in their path, looking at Actaeon. “Don’t you have another way
to contact Lexi?”

  Actaeon stared at him, trying to make sense of the question. “She’s a bit off the grid, so I can’t exactly call her cellphone.”

  “Not like that. I mean...” Icarus glanced at Cerberus, then turned to Actaeon again. “They share a link. Do you have something similar?”

  “I’m not a servant.” Actaeon hated trying to figure out what was going on in Icarus’ head.

  Icarus clenched his jaw and turned away, to pace. He raked his fingers through his hair, moving his lips though no sound came out. “Dreams... Thoughts... Emotion...” he murmured. “As in, talking to her in her dreams or something? Is that a thing she can do?”

  “Like Morpheus? Not last I checked.”

  Weird dream?

  You could say that.

  The snippets of conversation with Lexi from a few nights ago raced back. Actaeon didn’t want to ask, but he had to know. “Can you talk to Lexi in her dreams?”

  “What?” Cerberus’ tone changed.

  Icarus paused mid-pace. “I think I can. But we’d both have to be dreaming, for me to do that.”

  White-hot envy surged inside Actaeon. How did Icarus and Lexi share something so impossible and intimate. He’d been in her dreams? Actaeon shelved the implications. More important things were at stake. “Great. Stay here, take a nap, and we’ll go search.”

  Actaeon would burn the world down for vengeance if something happened to Lexi.

  LEXI’S HEAD THROBBED, begging her to stop. Stop thinking. Stop struggling. Stop everything. Each time she tried to focus, Lorelei’s song grew louder, threatening to split her skull.

  “Cerberus and Actaeon had so much guilt.” Lorelei’s words harmonized with the foul music. “They tortured themselves far better than I ever could. But you... You deny so much. It can be in front of your face, and you refuse to accept it. You’re not a martyr. Your mind is a sandbox for mayhem.”

  Lexi didn’t know what that meant, but it reinforced her determination not to beg. This was excruciating, but she could deal with it.

  The song changed, and the pain vanished, like a switch had been flipped.