Innovation's Muse (Truth's Harem)

by Allyson Lindt

  Ritual...? “It wasn’t. It couldn’t have been.”

  The officer nodded. “Gargoyle claw was the weapon.”

  She’d told Dad they couldn’t live in a city where Poseidon ruled. He insisted they were safest right under the gods’ noses.

  “I’m sorry. Is there anyone you can call?” the officer asked.

  Lexi shook her head, barely able to see through her tears, as her stepfather’s body was wheeled out on a stretcher. There was no one.

  “Let’s see what else you have that you’re hiding from yourself.” Lorelei’s song drilled into Lexi’s thoughts.

  “I swear to every god who ever was or will be, I will gut you for this,” Lexi growled at the empty air, her throat raw and her heart broken.

  “Promises, promises. Which one should we play again, to discover what else we knock loose?”

  Ambulance sirens blared, and Lexi stood in the living room of the last place she’d lived with Dad, choking on tears of sorrow and hatred.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Lexi felt raw, inside and out. She didn’t know how long she’d been forced to relive her past. And that stupid fucking image of Cerberus...

  She wanted to curl up and take a nap. How many days had she been in here? A week yet? It felt like a million lifetimes.

  Fourteen-year-old Lexi listened to Aphrodite talking to Dad in the other room. She’d heard it so many times, she was starting to imagine she could make out some of the words.

  “—sephon... she’s not... tell any... goddess—” That was Aphrodite.

  If Lexi could fill in those words, she could probably make up entire sentences about what they’d been discussing.

  The teenage version of her crept into a hallway.

  Lexi screamed in her own skull to not do this. She was tired. They’d already been in bed. They could go back to sleep.

  The scenery shifted, and she was back in Lorelei’s hut. Lexi had put some pieces together. This place seemed to operate in a similar manner to the labyrinth’s entrance. It plucked some of her sharpest memories from her head and brought them to life.

  But it didn’t seem as though Lorelei could read Lexi’s mind. The place gave her past a shape, and Lorelei saw the manifestation. Something to be grateful for.

  Lorelei and Cerberus spoke. About Hades. About killing Icarus.

  Lexi grabbed a few cushions, spread them on the floor, and lay down. There was nothing for her to interact with in this scene. She could rest for a little while.

  “As far as heroes and pasts go, yours is relatively tame.” Icarus’ voice startled her.

  She jolted straight up and turned around, to find him sitting on a cushion behind her. “You’re not part of this.”

  “No? Grateful for small favors I suppose, since these are based on traumatic moments. I didn’t think you’d ever see me.”

  She reached out, expecting her fingers to pass through him.

  He held up a hand, and she pressed her palm to his.

  Lexi sobbed in relief. “How are you here? Did you find me?” His comment from earlier sorted itself out. “How long have you been here?”

  “Meditation. Not yet. And through the Star Wars themed bedroom, and that whole awkward truck conversation. You and Conner? Really?”

  The teasing threatened to make her smile. “Yes. Really.”

  “He’s just a kid.”

  Lexi pursed her lips, but it felt good to be talking to someone other than herself. “He’s the same age as me.”

  “Of course.” Icarus kissed her fingers. “I’m still here, watching, the way you are. Except I think I’m in your head. When the scene shifts, even if you can’t see me, I haven’t left.”

  Ambulance sirens filled her skull, and grief set in. The change in scenery and mood gripped her chest and squeezed tight. Icarus was gone. Grief and panic surged back, as she watched the paramedic cover Dad with a sheet.

  A sob bubbled up in her chest, and she tried to claw past the memory of grief. It was so difficult, though.

  “Creation, Zee. I’m so sorry.”

  Icarus’ voice in her head felt like when she talked to Cerberus, and that nickname... “Only Conner ever called me that.”

  “Why only him?” Icarus asked. “It’s cute.”

  “I don’t know. He came up with it, and I haven’t really led the kind of life that lends itself to sweet nicknames.” Was she really discussing this while she was trapped in a nightmare? “Cute?”

  “Sexy? Appropriate? Whatever distracts you and lets me flirt at the same time.”

  She mentally rolled her eyes. “You’re relentless.”

  “True. Where are you? I’ll send the bruisers.”

  Bruisers. She liked it. “I don’t know. I was only a few doors down from the temple when Lorelei found me. After that, it’s all a bit of a screeching blur.”

  “I can start with that. We’ll go door to door in that area, and then spread out from there.”

  What? A new type of hurt joined the scrambled mess that was her heart. “You haven’t already done that? I’ve been in here for weeks.”

  “You only dropped off Cerberus’ radar about fifteen minutes ago.”

  At least they hadn’t forgotten about her. “How did you know I was in trouble, then?”

  “Cassandra told us.”

  “Cassandra?” Lexi’s world shifted again, and this time the scenery was new. Or rather, it was Icarus’ shop, but at night.

  “Fuck. I’m contaminating the place. I need to leave. We’re looking. I promise.”

  Suddenly Lexi’s head felt achingly empty. Should she have warned him about Cerberus?

  No. That vision wasn’t real.

  “What’s this? New trauma?” Lorelei asked.

  Perhaps. But nothing was happening. Contaminating. Because it wasn’t Lexi’s memory. Panic surged inside. She didn’t want Lorelei to discover Icarus had been here.

  Lexi grasped the most awkward memory she had of the workshop. It wasn’t even on the same scale as the grief of seeing Dad, dead in in a pool of blood.

  It felt natural, to slide into her mind from just a few weeks—hours?—ago. The conversation about illusions being tangible. The wings. She wished she could have a third-person angle on this, like the conversation in the hut, so she could see the wings she’d created.

  The moment ended in an intense kiss that she swore was as strong in the memory, and then the uncomfortable breaking apart. The stilted argument. The lack of conversation.

  “This is traumatic to you?” Lorelei’s song was gone, and she was speaking. “And you didn’t break after a few loops? That’s fine. We have centuries.”

  If this had only been a little while in the real world, it might take centuries for the men to find her.

  Lexi wasn’t looking forward to waiting. Especially when the ambulance sirens blared in her head again.

  She tried to focus on the image of Icarus’ shop, rather than the grief. If she thought about it, would it come back again? How did she make it do that the first time?

  “Cerberus.”

  She was in the hut. Good. Mental break. She slid into the memory of the wings. The moments leading up to it. The dagger.

  If she manipulated things in his shop and made them real, and this was a similar idea...

  No. It couldn’t be that easy.

  The part of her mind that had been arguing with her since she got here pointed out that, if it were that easy, she wouldn’t still be here.

  She closed her eyes and pictured a dagger in her hand. She imagined it looking like the one Lorelei handed Cerberus.

  The cool night air of her childhood home brushed her cheek.

  No. She wasn’t ready to slide into a new scene.

  The hard lines of the truck bed dug into her naked back, and the woven blanket scratched her bare chest.

  She wanted to stay outside of the scene, the way she did in the hut.

  The twinge of pain between her thighs was a pleasant reminder she’d just lo
st her virginity.

  Would that have happened with a mortal?

  Odd thought to have.

  But she didn’t hear her younger-self’s mind. She risked opening her eyes. Satisfaction spread inside. She wasn’t lying in the truck next to Conner. She was watching herself in that spot.

  It was a bit strange, sitting on the edge of the truck, looking at teenage-her giggling in post-coital bliss.

  Lexi hopped to the ground, leaving the laughter in the background. Something dug into her palm, and she looked down.

  She still held the blade.

  “Nope,” Lorelei sang the word, and the environment shattered in a shower of glitter.

  Lexi smirked. The dagger was gone too, but she could bring it back.

  “Pleased with yourself?” The siren’s song caressed her ear. “You thought this was the worst I could do? I’ve been in the heads of the men you love. My dear, this was only an appetizer.”

  Lexi wanted to be smug and laugh the whole thing off. It was hard to do when Lorelei’s song was capable of evoking terror, and the threat it carried promised worse.

  “You let her escape?” Hades roar reached inside Lexi and squeezed her lungs until she couldn’t breathe.

  “I didn’t let her do anything.” Cerberus’ voice came from her lips.

  No. She could see the paws on the ground. Feel... extra limbs? She was Cerberus.

  “Lies.” Hades’ fury raged inside her, the same way Cerberus’ emotions did when she was linked to him, but so much more painful and terrifying. “Your guilt spills from you in waves. How dare you deceive me? Find Persephone and the child now.”

  Cerberus nodded. It was almost dizzying, feeling three heads bob at the same time. “I will.”

  “And until then, you can live all the potential terrors they’ll face if you don’t,” Hades said.

  These memories weren’t physical. They were rapid-fire splashes of threat that Hades spilled through Cerberus’ mind. Persephone gutted in front of cameras, to prove Zeus’ point. Baby Lexi sacrificed, for Ares’ pleasure.

  And so many more scenes of rape, death, and a million scenarios in between, that Lexi had to turn away from.

  But Cerberus hadn’t been able to. He put himself through that, to let Persephone go. To make sure Lexi wasn’t born in the underworld.

  Lexi tried to make it stop, the way she had before, but the threats shifted so quickly, she couldn’t ignore their vivid gruesome nature.

  ICARUS OPENED HIS EYES, to find two pairs staring back at him. He hopped from the table he’d been meditating cross-legged on. “I know how to find Lexi and get her out.”

  “You were out for less than five minutes.” Actaeon bounced on the balls of his feet.

  Icarus had been in Lexi’s head for hours, from his perspective. He didn’t think she’d been exaggerating, but living it was different than hearing about it. It was critical they do this quickly.

  “I believe she’s still in town, and she’s in something similar to the entrance of the labyrinth. There will be a doorway, and it will exist in a specific place...” Icarus searched for an appropriate analogy. “Like a Platform 9 3/4 kind of thing.”

  “Thank you. Someone gets it,” Cerberus said.

  Actaeon rolled his eyes.

  Icarus wasn’t going to ask.

  “If it’s local, you know where it is.” Actaeon was already heading toward the door.

  Icarus winced. “I don’t.”

  He was met with twin glares of disbelief. “Why not?” Cerberus demanded to know.

  “I wasn’t going to set up the labyrinth here and bring that kind of trouble into this town.” At the time, he justified to himself putting it in someone else’s hometown. Now he didn’t know why he’d thought that was okay. “But between the three of us, it will stand out to someone when we find it. We’ll start with the buildings around Aphrodite’s temple.” If this prison was the same as his work, he should know it immediately, but since it was imbued with siren magic, he wasn’t sure.

  “Then what?” Cerberus was a static version of wound up, with his arms crossed and his fingers digging into his forearms hard enough he was going to leave dents.

  “I believe Lexi’s bound to the prison the same way Hades was in the labyrinth, except today, Hades is the key instead of Persephone. We need to—”

  “Kill Hades.” Actaeon headed back toward the room where Cassandra was.

  “No.” Icarus would get through this faster if they’d listen. “We don’t have time to figure that out. We need to—”

  “Then how are we supposed to get her out?” Actaeon asked.

  Cerberus straightened. “Transfer the key to someone who shares her energy. Me.”

  At least one of them was thinking. “Exactly.”

  “And then we kill the pup?” Actaeon sounded doubtful.

  Cerberus nodded. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

  “What? No. Fucking martyrs, both of you. Shut up and let me explain. We make Cerberus the key, and then he unlocks the door.” Icarus paused, waiting for the next retort.

  “What happens if we don’t get to Lexi in time?” Actaeon asked the one thing Icarus didn’t want to think about.

  “You both know what Lorelei prefers as payment.” Breaking people got her off. It was all a fucked-up game to her.

  “Shit.” Cerberus paled.

  Icarus nodded. “How much does she know about the two of you that can be used against Lexi?”

  Actaeon had stopped moving, and the glow around him was brighter than the lights in the room. “Fuck.”

  Icarus couldn’t have phrased it better himself. Fear on Lexi’s behalf squeezed the air from his lungs. If they took even an hour to locate her, she might not survive.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Lexi screamed at the pain that seared over her, but the voice that came out was Actaeon’s. She didn’t know when they were, but the reflection on the far wall showed him draped in lightweight robes, almost like a toga.

  This was the least psychologically taxing memory Lexi had been shoved into, but Actaeon had a high threshold for pain, and being stuck in his head while he was tortured sucked. She would have passed out ages ago if this was happening to her.

  Memory-Lorelei wore something similar to Actaeon’s robes, wrapped tight and highlighting her figure. Her sweet, stunning reflection was a lie, and she preferred it that way. She liked to watch.

  She dragged a knife down Actaeon’s arm. Blood, dark and thick, welled up from the deep slice, covering layers of the same that had already dried on his skin. The cut closed up quickly, but it didn’t heal. It left a glaring red gash next to neat rows of others.

  Darkness licked the edges of Actaeon’s vision.

  Please let him pass out soon.

  Memory-Lorelei leaned in, to caress Actaeon’s ear with her lips. “You’ve stolen two of my favorite toys,” Lorelei sang. “But this way you can see why I enjoyed them so much.”

  The words jarred Lexi from the agony. That wasn’t what the siren said last time they were in this scene. Lorelei changed the memory, to talk to Lexi.

  Lexi could do the same. Amid the constantly shifting landscape of mental and physical torture, she’d lost track of her discovery. Now that she had it, she had to focus on using it.

  Her world didn’t fade to black as Actaeon lost consciousness. Not like last time. She was stuck in his unconscious head for several seconds, before the scene shifted.

  It gave her time to catch her breath and remember she might have a way out of this place.

  She was Cerberus again, at some point during the Renaissance. He was a sculptor’s muse, and the man he posed for was being hauled away for heresy, for his abominable renditions of a three-headed dog.

  The guilt stole breath she didn’t have and sent her drowning in anguish. She had to stay removed, despite feeling and hearing everything that passed through his head.

  It took tremendous effort to summon the reminder. She didn’t have the strength to do more.
>
  “Lexi.” The voice was Cerberus’.

  Of course it was. She was him. He was her. This was so confusing.

  “It’s actually me,” Cerberus said.

  She would have laughed in relief, if it didn’t take so much effort. “You got in.”

  “Yes. We know where you are, and we’re going to unlock the door. But Icarus doesn’t think that will be enough to free you. You still have to find your way to us.”

  “I can’t do that.” Every time she had enough of a grip on her own mind to act, Lorelei snatched it away.

  “You can.” His reassurance flowed through her. Talking to Cerberus this way was different than the conversation with Icarus. With Icarus, it was almost like he was in her head. Correction—as though they shared a mind. With Cerberus, it was more like face-to-face speaking, heavily doused with his emotion.

  The instant he was gone, she’d be stuck with the vision’s memories again. And how much longer until the door was unlocked? How would she know it was time to look? “I’ll try.”

  “We’ll find you. If you have to, sit tight until we get to you.”

  The concern and love and warmth evaporated, leaving her with the suffocating guilt of past-Cerberus.

  His words wormed their way under her skin, though. Despite saying he believed she could do it, he didn’t.

  Her frustration barreled in, smothering external feedback. No way was she plopping down on her mental ass, to wait for the Three Musketeers.

  The scenery changed to a place she hadn’t seen before. Lexi recognized the sensation of being Cerberus. The guilt and the stretch of video displays on the sides of skyscrapers meant this probably took place in her lifetime. The disorientation of three heads indicated he was in his hellhound form.

  His emotions and thoughts pressed in on her, but speaking to the real Cerberus had shown her how much a memory paled in comparison. She was able to hold onto herself long enough to focus.

  Stepping outside of him would be a mistake. Lorelei caught on too quickly last time Lexi did that. If she concentrated, she could grasp the memory of making an illusion real. In her mind, she rebuilt the feeling of the dagger. Its weight in her hand. The sharpness of the blade and the engravings on the handle that pressed into her palm.