by Elena Monroe
I didn't want to text Nyx. I didn’t want to even talk to him after what we did. The guilt he planted in me was overwhelming, knowing I wasn’t really his to have.
But… Nyx was my only option.
Me: Can you pick me up from Dorian’s?
I watched the screen closely, waiting for him to chew me out about my request.
Nyx: Boyfriend can’t drive you home?
Me: He’s not home. I was just using his kitchen to bake.
Nyx: Haven’t done that since Arcadia.
He didn’t have to spell anything out. He was making the assumption I was happy enough to bake.
At Arcadia, I would sneak into the kitchen after hours all the time with Nyx to make quick cookies or brownies, whatever my sweet tooth demanded.
Before Cheyanne.
Before I lost my virginity.
Before I decided evil looked like Nyx and not Dorian.
Looks were deceiving, and I should have known that best.
Another text made my phone vibrate in my hand as I closed the door behind me, juggling my baking cases at the same time.
Nyx: I’ll be there in ten.
I waited on the sidewalk that boxed in Dorian’s property, constantly throwing glances over my shoulder wondering if he noticed I was gone.
Without seeing his car, I could feel Nyx closing in, like the messed up connection we had. Soon after, I heard the engine of his Firebird roar down the quiet streets.
He was silent until I held my baking totes close and slid against the leather seats.
“You know, I can see his car in the driveway, right?”
My cheeks flushed an embarrassing color. I wasn’t used to lying, never mind lying well.
“He’s not home, though…” I knew he wasn’t going to believe me, but I was still trying to swim in his waters.
“Whatever you say, Little Lamb.”
Finally satisfied with my poor lies, he pulled away from the curb and headed back into the city.
The drive was painfully silent. I could feel the heavy air filling every inch between us and swelling before he vomited words out.
“I’m gonna guess he doesn’t know what we did. Pretend all you want, Little Lamb… I know who you are.”
His words blew me over, pushing me into the leather.
“He’s innocent, Nyx. Leave him out of this.”
I watched his hands squeeze around the steering wheel, with his body no longer lazily leaning too far back.
“Yeah, innocent... unlike you.”
The good girl parts of me faded into the background as he poked the bad ones to the forefront.
I wanted to kick and scream like a petulant child, until he understood he didn’t know me better than I did, especially now. Everything I knew and didn’t blend in the same hurricane.
Caellum
N o one was picking sides, not in this war.
Making a choice on this battlefield was suicide. The cost wasn’t your life; it was a strong cold front that was going to freeze you out from the only people just like you.
A loss of a limb.
You wouldn’t just look like these skin sacs; you’d be one.
Not all battles were justified and fought over shit of value, but the good ones were normally over more than land or freedom. Good battles were normally over heartache, in any form, fighting to fill the ache with revenge, or death, or worse.
Nyx was madly in love with Luna and trying desperately to push it down to a place he could ignore, while Luna was happily dating Mr. Perfect.
I wasn’t close to Nyx at Arcadia. He transferred in with his beach tousled hair and Australian accent after I had already left the circle behind.
They called it a betrayal, but I called it trimming the dead weight. They were busy finding the last person to complete our circle instead of looking at the facts: our gods were dead. We had repeated the same fucking year fourteen times, and we were still more powerful than anyone.
I wasn’t wasting my time carrying them from step one to step two.
I wasn’t wasting any of my time. It’s precious, and while I was still looking for a way out of here, every second counted.
That’s exactly how I measured value: how you could benefit me, not some mutually copasetic agreement.
Nyx had been moping around for a week, while Luna lived in relationship bliss. I wasn’t picking sides, but this was bullshit on an epic level.
Luna wanted to be able to hide how she felt so no one knew. But she couldn’t around us; we invented hiding how we feel.
Luna was failing at it.
Those who can’t… shouldn't… teach in this situation.
Every time they were in a room together, mostly by accident these days, you could feel their pull.
Denying the inevitable was for the weak—the ones who couldn’t handle the truth, the ones who feared happiness.
Nyx was lazily hitting softballs in the cages we had in the store. I could hear the leather and wood snapping consistently in intervals.
I abandoned the head of the store, following the sound, until I found Nyx more disheveled than normal—hair not tamed at all, and you could tell all he did was toss and turn last night. His uniform was wrinkled. You’d think he was homeless and just pretending to work here.
“That’s not gonna get out the anger.”
Nyx didn’t break eye contact with the machine catapulting balls his way when he spoke: “Nothing will. Believe me, I’ve tried. Girls, booze, better weed. Luna has no cure, no recovery.”
I was pretty sure I was the only one he admitted that to.
Not even his king, Bolton.
I wasn’t the same kind of king. When I reigned Arcadia, it was under a different set of rules, relationships, desires.
By knowing his secrets, he was pledging loyalty to me without knowing it.
“I do this thing on Fridays… it’s underground, low key… It’ll help. It’s in South Park.”
Nyx walked over to the machine, pressing a button that made it quiet down instantly.
“No dice. Need more to go on…”
“Some guy runs it; no one knows his name. He’s always there, probably gets off on it. There’s rules: no faces, no guns… and it ends there. No taking grudges into the real world.”
Nyx’s eyes lit up like the Fourth of July. He heard danger and practically volunteered.
He loved Luna more than anticipated.
The rest of the day he had a bounce to his step—something to look forward to, to distract him.
Later that night, after our day jobs and being normal was done, I could feel the excitement brewing in me.
I had been sneaking off on Friday’s for months now. It was my best kept secret.
No one ever knew or wondered. That was the advantage of keeping people solely in the box of benefiting you: They couldn’t care less.
I don’t know why I showered before going to South Side, notorious for crime and murder. I certainly wouldn’t blend in if I was freshly clean, but keeping the stretch of normalcy seemed like something I couldn’t live with.
Once I clipped my suspenders onto my jeans and threw on a tee with the arms cut off, I texted Nyx.
He never replied immediately; he was waiting on me.
Loyalty.
Trust.
All the things a true king possesses without trying.
I’m not bitter. Let him be king. I’ll be the jester with all the cards.
Me: Meet me downstairs. People will be showing up now.
Nyx: If this turns out to be weird. I’m gonna kick your ass. You know that, right?
I ignored his message and grabbed my lucky card, putting it in my back pocket.
Not a piece of home or the crown I deserve, but a reminder I have the winning hand.
Downstairs, Nyx was already in his starter car. He needed this to be some kind of cure for how broken Luna made him.
She was confused about herself and managed to transfer all that same confusion to him. N
ow he didn’t know who he was, all because he fell into something he never thought possible: love.
The South Side didn’t look pretty. Hell, they barely had anything but run-down buildings.
Every other streetlamp was broken and ignored.
Humans made all these rules and regulations to make them care, when really it was all a gimmick to get other people to care so they didn’t have to.
It boiled down to no one caring.
If the gods were alive…
Stopping myself, I ground my knuckles into my eyebrows. Thinking that wouldn’t bring them back.
We are the only gods now.
“You sure we’re in the right place? This could get ugly.”
Leaning back, I looked at the abandoned building—a lot like Arcadia once the illusion wore off. Old stone, no windows, barely any walls, yet hidden enough to keep illegal activity out of plain sight.
“I’m hoping it gets ugly. Welcome to Underworld.”
I got out of his still purring car and held my arms out, dramatically waiting for him to pour himself out of the car.
Just the thought of this getting ugly put fireworks in his eyes.
I stepped over the rubble, and other men greeted me like a king.
Frequent flyer.
Frequent winner.
Frequently not giving a fuck on the outside.
Finding followers wasn’t ever the problem; wherever I went, I had them. It was them being human that rubbed me the wrong way.
Nyx’s eyes darted around the room, while I slapped my palm against other people’s in a silent greeting.
The guy clearly in charge, who was always watching, but his face never bestowed upon us, sat on the only chair in the shadows. All you could see were the three pairs of almost glowing eyes of his hounds sitting by his side.
I knew what Nyx was thinking: Cerberus, the three-headed dog that his dad kept as a pet.
Maybe that’s why I felt so at home here; there were reminders of home in every corner.
“You new?”
“Friend of Caellum. Feeling aggressive… he thought this would help.” Nyx tensed beside me already on fight, no flight.
“He knows the rules?”
I may have not told him every rule, like the one that states new fighters have to go first…
I turned to him, with my hands on his shoulders, squeezing him into place. “You’re going first. Just remember: no faces.” Stepping around him, I tugged his leather jacket off and even attempted to take the blunt from his lips when his hand flew up to stop me.
“Thanks, Mom. I don’t care when I go, as long as I get to hit someone.”
Another regular stood in the middle of the red circle that had been drawn in the center of the room, and he began to announce the start of the games, like he did every Friday.
Everyone was nameless, except me. I had nothing to hide.
Nyx stepped into the red circle, throwing off his dirty white shirt and making sure it hit me in the face.
The onlookers closed in, but not so close that we obstructed the view of the man in the shadows.
His energy was black, sleek, and sucking all the oxygen out of the room without even being seen.
He demanded your attention and dared you to stare into the shadows long enough to see him.
I hadn't wondered much about him as long as I could fight… until now. It was the same feeling you would get when you were in the room with Nyx and Luna, stuck in the middle of some greater design, a bigger game.
Leaning into Nyx, I gripped his shoulder, whispering only to him, “They never said anything about powers.”
His features sunk in the middle of his face, questioning it, even though I knew he wasn’t one to really hold his strength back if he could get away with it.
Bolton was the lock and key on anyone using powers, because he didn’t have any.
Demigod.
Backing up, I crossed my arms and blended in with the crowd surrounding the circle, watching and soaking up every raw moment of power, just as Nyx’s challenger stepped in the circle. He was a tower, covered in tattoos and metal on his face, with brass knuckles hugging his knuckles.
Nyx wasn’t small, but he certainly wasn’t the kind of scary this guy gave off either.
Letting his head drop to either side, Nyx bounced in place, warming up like this was going to be as simple as strapping on a helmet and playing a football game.
His challenger wasted no time swinging, and his punches landed on Nyx’s already injured ribs, over and over.
I was watching so closely that I swore the room got silent, and my heartbeat was the only thing in my ears. Nyx was taking the pain with a smirk stuck to his lips, waiting for the perfect moment.
After punishing himself enough, Nyx stood upright, with his fists clenched, and he drove his knuckles into the tower’s stomach. The tower fell, ungracefully, almost embarrassingly. By the way he was gripping his stomach on the floor, you would have thought Nyx had shot him, or worse, but the only weapon he used was a closed fist.
The crowd was silent. I was hoping in awe, but one guy put his foot in the circle and shouted that Nyx’s must have cheated.
Stepping forward toward the guy shouting, I placed my hand on his shoulder, maintaining the distance between him and us now.
“No one cheated. Don’t be a sore loser.”
Nyx was ready to fight him too, and if I hadn’t been standing in the middle, he probably would have.
The next voice to speak was intimidating, larger than life, and coated in the thick Australian accent, just like Nyx’s. It froze us both in place, and the only movements we were granted were to turn around, following the source of the voice.
The one who sat in the shadows stood up, clad in leather, with a fedora on top of his head. He was wearing a double breasted black coat that landed at his knees. He looked like a rock star instead of a gangster.
“You… name.” He pointed a finger theatrically at Nyx.
Nyx was nearly foaming at the mouth and ready to fight everyone in the room. He had just found the cure to Luna.
Violence.
“None of your business.” His features softened, and he pulled a blunt from his back pocket, delicately placing it between his lips. “I don’t share, so don’t ask.”
Wedging myself in the heavy space between them, I crossed my arms, almost feeling bad I brought a loose cannon to the Underworld.
“No one is talking to you, Blondie.” He waved a hand, like that was enough to get me to leave, when Nyx took a stance next to me.
He must have strong weed, because this guy was rumored to be the spawn of evil. Not sure which of our gods were responsible. Almost all of us had some evil in us.
It only mattered if you made friends with it or not.
Nyx
I didn’t know or care who the fuck this dude was.
I didn’t cheat, and I wasn’t giving up the adrenaline I just found that took my mind off Luna.
Even if it was only for a few fleeting moments.
“Do I know you?”
“Nope. New in town. I’m not friendly.”
The guy who pressed me for my identity was still nameless.
Smirking.
Almost laughing at my retorts.
His leather pants were so tight I felt violated. His boots were undone and sloppy, like mine, and his sharp features were moody just like mine.
If this turned into an argument, it was going to end up a draw—no winners or losers.
“Give me the room,” he said, looking at me, but I knew he was speaking to the men standing behind him and the crowd of fighters.
Great, I pissed off someone important.
Once everyone left, he snapped his fingers, and his three dogs came running to his side. “People call me H, and you’re in my house, Son, so drop the attitude.”
This guy wasn’t my dad.
He wasn’t Luna.
That completed the list of who could tell me what to do.
“Well, H… I have better shit to do.” I bumped into Caellum’s shoulder, leaving the area completely.
“Do you know what the H stands for, Youngblood?”
This time I froze. This time there was no fire burning underneath ready to come alive.
I froze at the nickname my father used on me: Youngblood.
I used to complain about it, before we were lost from home for so long.
He always said he’d stop when I finally wore the crown of the Underworld.
When I stopped chasing women I couldn’t have and wasting my time with false kings.
The crown of blue fire that floated was burned into my memory, haunting me, now that I remembered.
I spun around, swallowing the sudden mix of emotions tempting me to throw up. “Hades…?”
“Bingo!” The man who just admitted the truth so easily clapped and shouted “bingo” in my face, like I had won a prize.
I didn’t win shit, except the realization that my dad had been alive, here, this whole time, while I was lost.
Before I could control the anger ripping through me, I pushed him, hard, and his flat brim hat fell off, revealing his raven hair that dusted his shoulders.
His body didn’t move, and I had used all my strength. All I got to fall down was his fucking hat.
His arms stretched out, and he welcomed whatever pain I wanted to give him.
Blowing my fist over his cheek, I watched him stumble and took the opportunity to tackle him to the ground.
This guy wasn’t my father.
This guy was playing some kind of game.
Every possibility ran through my mind that pointed to him being a lie.
Holding onto the collar of his jacket, I threw sloppy fists that I hope connected.
Caellum tried pulling me off, forgetting I housed so much strength I put Hercules to shame.
Pushing Caellum off split my focus enough to give H the upper hand. Swapping dominance, he yanked me up effortlessly, when his man rushed the area.
H waved a hand, with the same ring I had on, stopping them. “Just a squabble between families. My long lost son, the Prince of the Underworld.”
Caellum’s eyes were about to pop out of his head. The guy holding all the cards didn’t see anything but ways to remember home.
The truth was that H had brought home here.