You didn’t wait to see if she accepted him as a hostage.
Persephone had asked for two, a male and a female demigod. Now that I knew the truth about “Elise” and “Adonis” I knew why. She’d never been interested in an exchange of hostages, she just wanted to get her people safely off the island.
What if I’d messed up? I’d already hurt, no, killed people by naïvely moving the island. I should have stayed and made sure she accepted the exchange, Otherwise, this was all for nothing.
“Let me die,” another voice shouted from my left.
But no one did.
Chapter XVIII
Aphrodite
“EVERYONE CALM down!” Narcissus’s voice rang out from where he stood atop the reception desk of the hospital lobby. His shirt was torn. Mussed hair hung over his forehead, and dust and blood splattered across his face almost artistically so as not to cover his handsome features.
Before I’d lost the ability to cast my own glamours, I likely wouldn’t have even noticed how he’d escaped the earthquake and subsequent rescue efforts with only Hollywood-level damage. Now, I kind of hated him.
“Injured to the left,” Narcissus continued. “Form an orderly line. The staff will see to you in order of severity. Everyone else, to the right. We need to do a head count. Once you’ve been assessed for injuries and your name is checked off the list, you’ll be assigned a cleanup task. Let’s move, people!”
Demigods crammed into the wide lobby, spilling into the dark, gutted gift shop and the cramped pharmacy. Their voices buzzed at an uncomfortably loud volume. It still wasn’t enough to drown out the cries that emerged from beyond the double doors in the very back of the lobby. The air was dim and had a weight to it. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in enough gray sunlight to render all other illumination useless. A heady odor of too many people in sweaty, mildewed clothes competed with the scent of hospital-grade disinfectant.
Shuffling to the right, I fought to keep calm. Claustrophobia was a not-so-fun recent development thanks to Adonis’s poison. My divine ability to heal had shielded me from all kinds of residual physiological symptoms from the crap Zeus put me through. Once my powers were taken away, I’d fallen prey to major panic attacks. Claustrophobia just happened to be one of my triggers.
“Where’s Medea?” Otrera asked, moving beside me.
“Narcissus sent her back to the cabin to get some rest after she explained the whole shield thing.” I drew in a deep breath, wrinkling my nose at the hospital odor so strong it coated my taste buds. “I hope our cabin’s still standing.”
“It is. I checked when I grabbed the resident list. We’re lucky. Most of the cabins did not come out unscathed.” She rolled her shoulders, looking exhausted. Otrera claimed to be powerless. It could be true. Not all the gods passed on powers the way Zeus did. Good thing, given how unpredictable they were in the unskilled hands of some demigods. But I suspected she’d inherited something from her divine parent. Maybe strength? Physical prowess? No one emanated that whole fitness, runner, yoga vibe that much naturally.
Powers or not, she knew how to handle herself in an emergency, and she lent a much-needed levelheadedness to our trio. I hadn’t chosen to bring her in on the plan, but I was glad Medea had.
Her gaze snagged on the red-soaked bandage peeling off my arm. “Why don’t you move over to the left line?”
“I’ve got alcohol and cotton swabs back at our cabin.” I motioned to the line of injured demigods. “A lot of them need more attention than me.”
The dining hall functioned as the island’s social center, meal time or not. Between the rain and the cooler climate, the building had been more crowded than usual when the quake struck. Dozens of demigods had been injured, and a handful should have died instantly. Except they didn’t. I swallowed hard, fighting to ignore the press of the crowd around me. I’d never be able to close my eyes again without seeing the anguished faces of the demigods who had long since bled out, their limbs crushed or necks broken. They were in pain long past the point where their bodies should have given up.
“An admirable stance.” Otrera flashed me a friendly smile. “And I get it, I do. But you could be hurt worse than you realize if you’re in shock. Frankly, it’ll take fewer resources now to check you over than to assume you’re okay and have you fall out while you’re carrying something, or helping someone, or working with someone else during cleanup. It’s just safer this way.”
I was probably one of the few people here who felt better since the quake. The earthquake had put a stop to, or at least a pause on, whatever they’d been doing to Adonis. But Otrera could be right. Between all the cuts and scrapes from the quake and my ocean adventure, my body had become a collage of aching bruises. It’d be easy to miss something important.
“Come on.” Otrera gripped my arm and steered me toward the left line. “You’ll probably have to wait a while, but it’s still better to make sure, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.” I moved behind a demigod cradling an obviously broken wrist. The sight of it bent wrong put a foul taste in my mouth, so I tried to look anywhere else. At that moment, a particularly anguished scream breached the lobby. Persephone, I thought. What have you done?
During the truce meeting, Persephone had promised to stop allowing demigods to die if the demigods refused her terms. Clearly, no reapers had come to release the souls of the dying demigods.
But why? Medea had left a hostage. That wasn’t refusal of terms. Even if Persephone hadn’t gotten exactly what she wanted, I knew her. She wouldn’t choose to do this if there’d been even a remotely possible interpretation of her word that allowed her not to.
“Quiet, please,” Narcissus called, once everyone in the lobby was accounted for. “There are still names not checked off the roster. Once you’re given the all clear, we’ll need to split up and search the island for survivors. I’ll be dividing you up into groups to check each building. Proceed with extreme caution.” The demigod swept his golden hair off his forehead. “Now, a lot has happened in the last twenty-four hours, but it’s imperative we don’t panic.”
He continued his speech, dividing tasks with a brisk efficiency. For all their flaws, the demigods were well-organized. Otrera had helped get the ball rolling, but once the demigods were given tasks, a framework emerged that was too organized to be new. Someone had kept this place running like clockwork despite divine complications.
I let my mind wander as Narcissus outlined the next steps. It wasn’t easy. He was a natural public speaker, his voice loud and commanding, but never grating, his elegant golden hands motioning for emphasis without coming off as nervous or jittery. How he kept his composure amid the screams of agonized demigods was beyond me.
I bit the inside of my lip when a particularly harsh cry breached the lobby. Their fate wasn’t one I would wish on my worst enemy. Why would Persephone’s promise be invoked now? It didn’t make any sense. Unless . . .
“You refused her terms,” I said, my voice louder than I’d intended during a lull in Narcissus’s speech.
Narcissus quirked a golden brow, craning his neck to see me from his makeshift podium of a reception desk. His voice dripped with disdain when he asked, “Excuse me?”
Otrera put an arm on my shoulder, gripping me tight. I got her message loud and clear. Me saying anything was dangerous.
But I was long past caring. Dragging in a deep breath of heavily sanitized air, I stepped out of line. “Persephone promised not to allow any demigods to die if we refused her terms. They’re not dying.” I thrust my hand toward the emergency room, as if to offer proof. “So what did you do?”
“Apparently,” Otrera said under her breath, “Narcissus sent Argos and some of the others to meet with the gods and discuss the truce yesterday. I was going to tell you and Medea as soon as I got off my shift. Argos’s group tried to ambush the P
antheon with Steele and well . . .” She clenched a fist. “They didn’t come back.”
“You ambushed beings that control death.” My throat went dry. An attack would definitely count as “refusing the terms,” and if the demigods behind it hadn’t returned with the boat, that meant Medea was the only way off the island. “Did you really think that one through?”
“But not being able to die is a good thing, right?” Deucalion crossed his arms and leaned against the cinderblock wall. “It gives us the advantage. Now when we attack, even they can’t kill us. We can keep on coming!”
Shouts of agreement rose in the crowd for all of a second before a pained cry drowned them out.
“Does it sound like a good thing to you?” The words ripped free from my dry throat. Shock? I wondered dully. Maybe that was why I was stupid enough to keep on talking. “You refused their terms. You attacked them during a peacekeeping meeting. Did you think they were going to take that sitting down? Demigods across the globe can’t die because of a choice you made. Take it back.”
“Never.” Narcissus’s gold eyes glittered with rage. “I’m not sure how they found the island, or what they’ve done to it, but we must—”
“This isn’t them.” I whipped around, my wet hair thunking against my back. “You didn’t tell them that? This isn’t the Pantheon! The island is breaking because Medea moved it. Islands aren’t just floating bits of land at sea, they’re attached. Remove that attachment and it’s going to tear apart and sink. The gods have nothing to do with what is going on here!”
Narcissus snorted. “Medea is obviously exhausted. Moving the island took a toll. As for this shield she’s claiming to have cast or the earthquake she thinks she caused, the timing is too coincidental for—”
“Shield she thinks she—” I sputtered in disbelief, my nails digging into my palms so hard I was surprised I didn’t draw blood. They can’t sense power, I remembered. “I can prove it, I can—”
“Perhaps later.” Narcissus held up the papers with the names of the missing on them. “Right now, my priority is finding and accounting for every person on this island. Now—”
“You need to evacuate,” I protested, despite Otrera’s warning squeeze to my upper arm. “Let Medea ‘port us off in batches once she’s had some rest. If she can’t, if she doesn’t recover in time, call the gods. They can help get us off of this rock before—”
“She just wants to go crawling back to that god she was shacking up with,” a voice in the crowd muttered.
A disturbing number of demigods chimed in with agreement. I glanced around, suddenly aware of how very outnumbered I was in this crowded room.
“We can’t risk people leaving,” Neleus protested. Sweat dripped down his temples, creating clear paths of golden skin on an otherwise dust-covered face. “The gods could capture them, force them to reveal the island’s secrets.”
“Especially her,” another voice agreed.
“What secrets?” I spread my hands in a helpless gesture. “In a matter of days, there’ll be no island!”
They weren’t listening. I could see that much from the hatred shuttering their eyes. Glancing up at the desk Narcissus stood on, I couldn’t help but try to reason with him. “Even if the island weren’t damaged beyond repair, even if you were right about the gods finding us, what does that mean? You have damaged structures, injured people, and no way to restock. How long can we possibly last on the supplies we have?”
“Taking inventory is step two.” Narcissus’s voice was an exercise in patience.
“Don’t you get it?” My voice rose with hysteria. They were going to die, every single one of them was going to die, and there was a very good chance they’d get me killed in the process. What would happen first? Would Medea’s shield fail and the island break apart? Would we run out of water? Food? It was like the worst game of Russian roulette ever.
As another pained cry filled the air, my heart thudded uncomfortably hard in my chest. It was nothing short of luck that I hadn’t been hurt worse in the earthquake. And I wasn’t healing like a god these days. “You don’t have enough time for that. You need to make the truce and get out while you still can.”
“The hell we do,” Calais erupted. “No, no,” he said shaking off Deucalion when he tried to talk him down. “I’ve had about enough of this.” He lurched toward me, but the crowd was dense enough that he couldn’t get anywhere near me fast. “She’s defending them. Even now. Are you working for them? Did you know what they did to Adonis? Who that imposter was?” His voice rose with every question until he was red-faced with shouting. “Are you on their side?”
“This isn’t about sides! I’m trying to keep us all from getting killed.”
But the others had taken up his questions, questions I couldn’t answer without giving myself away.
“You’re trying to get us to surrender!” Calais looked around. “When we came here, we made a promise. No longer would demigods be pawns to the gods. We won’t breed for them, act for them, fight their monsters, or entertain the Pantheon any longer. We all said we’d rather die. If we enter into their agreement, we are completely at their mercy.”
“They can promise—”
“Their word means nothing,” Calais shouted. “I will not become their pawn!” He glowered at me with so much hatred, I had to resist the urge to step back. “Not like you.”
Fire surged in my chest. “I am not a pawn!”
Narcissus let out a long-suffering sigh from his makeshift stage. “Enough. While I may not appreciate her opinion, Elise has been cleared, and we have more important things to—”
“By you.” Calais interrupted. “Cleared by you. You took her back there—” he pointed to the end of the lobby “—and you questioned her. And then you decided she could be released. None of us were present for that, and there are some things I want to know.” He glared at me with eyes glittering with hatred. “Are you on their side?”
Nearly a hundred angry golden eyes turned on me. I wanted to get mad, to protest that they were being stupid. There were bigger things to worry about right now than me, but I understood. They were terrified. Adrenaline was pumping through their veins, fueled by the screams and cries of their injured. This wasn’t the time for logic. They wanted to do something, to blame someone.
And I made a handy target.
“We need to get you out of here,” Otrera murmured, her eyes wide. She pushed me toward the door, but there was no getting through this crowd.
“Are you working with them?” someone shouted, grabbing my arm and spinning me around. I suddenly felt hit with a wave of charm.
Charm? Why would anyone try to charm me? They thought I was immune. They can’t all control it, I remembered, fighting back the urge to answer. The other demigods echoed Calais’s questions, pressing in closer around me. Biting my cheek hard enough to taste blood, I resisted the urge to take a step back. Run, and they’d just give chase.
“Answer the question,” Calais demanded.
I couldn’t. Thinking fast, I tried to think of words, the right words, the ones that could trick them into hearing what I wasn’t capable of saying. But I failed. Even if I could lie, even if I could deny his accusations outright, they wouldn’t believe me. They’d made up their minds.
And they were right. They knew it on some level. They always had. My story didn’t add up, and people could always sense when they were in the presence of something other. Those instincts kept them alive.
“Did you know that ‘Adonis’ was a god?” someone from the crowd shouted, and a wave of charm hit me so hard my mouth dropped open before I could stop myself.
“Yes.”
Chapter XIX
Medea
HALF OF THE CABINS were gone. The ground they’d stood on had crumbled off the edge of the cliff they’d bordered during th
e quake.
“I did this,” I whimpered, staring at the wreckage of the only real home I’d ever known. Oh, the cabin I’d shared with Jason still stood, but everything around it was in shambles.
Suddenly it was all too much. The memory of agonized screams, the devastation, the smell of blood on the salty wind. I could feel the shield I held around the island, the weight of it closing in on me. There had been people in those cabins.
No. Horror rose within me as I stared at the shambles of buildings. There are people in those cabins. Demigods we couldn’t possibly reach with food, water, medical care, or even simple comfort. People pulverized amidst the waves, bodies broken beyond repair. Corpses that couldn’t die.
Swallowing back nausea, I bolted for my cabin, slamming the wooden door as if that could somehow lock out the crushing knowledge that those people, my people, were suffering. I crossed the living room, reaching for my journal and curled up on the couch bed. I needed to think. To process. And I couldn’t do that without a pen in my hand.
When Narcissus told me to go back to the cabins and get some rest, I argued, I wrote, letters unsteady as the sweat-slicked pen jerked in my shaking hands. Aphrodite and I explained about the shield and the island breaking in bits and pieces.
When she told the story, I was a hero, saving us. Not the idiot who forgot islands don’t just float out in the middle of the ocean. Moving the whole thing just made so much sense at the time. Maybe the fate of my entire people shouldn’t rest on someone who dropped out of school at seven.
I tried to correct her, tried to explain that I was the reason the fatally injured bodies couldn’t become corpses. That I’d broken our safe haven. But Narcissus just said I was getting hysterical and maybe I should go get some rest.
“No,” I’d argued, unable to stop trembling. It was the blood. I’d be able to stop shaking if I could just stop smelling blood. “I have to stay. To help. Otrera—”
Venus Rising: Book 3 Aphrodite Trilogy (The Daughters of Zeus 6) Page 12