by Elena Monroe
Everything was ready, and you could feel the heaviness in the air that something wicked this way comes.
Kate shrieked, “What are you doing?! I know we're immortal, but can you please just take the rules I gave you seriously?! I don't care if the humans created them.” She yanked my arm and pulled me out of Nyx’s grasp, as he laughed in the doorway.
“I was looking for you, but I couldn't find you...” Even I could hear the judgment in my voice, waiting for her to drop hints as to what Caellum said being true.
“Hades needed help more than you. I'm here now. Ring, off. It's gotta go on the altar.”
Pulling my ring off, I handed it over to her and examined her for any clues. I felt like Caellum, investigating relentlessly.
He's gotta be smarter than the whole room, because not one hair was out of place on Kate’s head.
Arianna stumbled over, and I could smell the whiskey on her lips from where I stood. She didn't even want the crown. Hell, she didn't even understand what that meant beyond Bolton’s lust for it.
Helping to keep her steady, I held onto her forearm. “Are you okay?” I whispered, not wanting to embarrass her.
“I'm great. Life is great, Luna. Aw… look at youuuuu…” Every word she pushed out came with a new overwhelming scent of drunkenness.
Kate rolled her eyes, completely annoyed, but not saying a word. That's how you knew Kate was some kind mad that you couldn’t fix by making her laugh.
“Let’s go, Miss Rebellion. Let’s find your seat… far away from the bride…”
No, this shit was glue, and prying it off her was painful.
“Ari, why don't you sit?” I helped her down into a booth and prayed to Zeus that he was watching over his daughter today.
The circle filled in, taking their seats in the booths, and the tables down the center of the room were moved to create an aisle—a wide aisle, but I didn't care.
All that mattered was getting to the part where Hades would literally take a string and bind us together in the candlelight under a witching hour.
I looked around the room, making sure everything was in place, not perfect, just in place, when a shadow swiped along the wall catching my eye.
Omari?
I know what I heard earlier, and now I was seeing things too? I shook my head, forcing the dark thoughts away, before they turned into anxiety, bile creeping up my throat, and the disaster I knew it could turn into.
Kate made me wait behind a thick black velvet curtain as Nyx took his place next to his dad, just as Hades rang the bell to silence the chatter.
No butterflies.
No nerves.
No anxiety sweat.
I was as sure as the moments that shaped the bad. I was calm, collected, and a touch murderous if anyone ruined this.
Nyx
S tanding next to my dad at the altar, which had been made for this moment specifically, I tried my hardest to not think further than this being a means to the end—being with Luna.
I was actively forcing myself to not think of all the blood that would be on my hands or the crooked crown.
I was solely focused on Luna’s ember curls cascading down her back and the black lace bouncing off her pale skin.
She was wearing my favorite color, like it was made for her instead of me.
The room was quiet, as I smoothed down my fitted button-up and jacket, equally as fitted.
Too quiet.
Caellum was still shirtless, slumped in a booth, keeping an eye on the rest of the royalty in the room.
Everyone here had rights to a throne, and they all knew it, but they were unwilling to fight for it, understand what it means, no longer being all bark and no bite.
As royalty, we needed to back up every word, every action, everything we did… with reason.
Everyone in this room was without reason.
Lost.
Inner battles.
Lies.
Betrayal.
Jealousy.
Patiently waiting, I fiddled with the dagger, running my fingertips along the blade, until Hades snatched it out of my hands. Everyone’s head turned away from the altar, and I knew she was finally making an appearance.
The room was romantic without trying too hard.
Dim without being dark.
Kate pulled back the curtain on my future queen, and I felt the echo in my chest of reality matching my dreams.
It didn’t matter that I saw Luna earlier. This was the moment she’d walk towards me, not Dorian or anyone else who could distract her from me.
We were about to be crowned at the same exact time.
She took my hands, standing in front of me, smiling, small braids hiding in her red hair. True Luna fashion.
It made me wonder if this was fate all along. She was too perfect, too much of the perfect balance, and too perfect for this crown.
I was the problem.
My malice was made for those who deserved it, and being king meant wearing my malice all the time.
Luna was more suited for the cutthroat job.
Her eyes took in the room around us. The circle spread out and watched from booths along the walls, and I saw the very moment she noticed Omari.
Her emerald eyes got darker, and a slight panic washed over her happiness.
Gripping her hands tighter, I leaned in to kiss her cheek and whisper into her ear gently, “It’s okay… It’s not what you think.”
Things were rarely ever what we thought, but we let ourselves freak out anyways.
I was the only thing standing between her and freaking out.
Looking around the room, trying to find Omari and glare at him to cool it, wasn’t easy. He was utilizing his shadow play as well as he took in air—essential to living.
Hades took out an old book and spoke to us all. He was old school when it came to the rules and teachings. He honored them in a way no other god did. “This isn't just a social contract; it is a magical process, a crossing of threads in the fabric of their fate. Complicated, intricate, almost too hard to understand, if you aren't paying enough attention. It all boils down to a love story; our whole lives do. This one happens to be fate at work, a glimmer behind the curtain, and a show of faith that you need to keep searching for your counterparts.”
He raised the dagger, asking us to prick our fingers and drain the droplets into the cup. We were combining our blood lines in a way you couldn't undo.
Raising the cup, he praised the three true kings and prompted us to drink the contents.
Luna looked like she didn't hate it, and that tugged at the corners of my mouth.
She was mine all right—fucked up and beautiful, all at once.
The ceremony continued when Hades asked me to lay my hand on top of hers, but I reversed the order. Her hand belonged on top, in my sights, not under me, like we weren't equal in this.
She pushed her palm against mine, and our hands floated in front of our bodies, waiting for him to literally bind us together.
Blood.
Body.
Soul.
Reign.
Tied together.
We didn't have the same traditions as the humans did when it came to marriage. There wasn’t any room to make it unique. Love between gods was a universal feeling according to the kings. They judged love from their own experience.
Without their permission, you weren't loving anyone you shouldn't.
Fate was never wrong.
“I pledge my blade, as I pledge my soul, ever to your service. Like this blade, my love for you will be strong and enduring, so that our lives together will always be protected. By seed and root, by bud and stem, by leaf and flower and fruit, by life and love, in the name of Hades, I take you.”
I stopped him before he prompted me to feed every line into my mouth. I knew the words. I knew the words as well as my love for Luna.
She repeated the words, slightly changed for me, and all I wanted to do was kiss her, seal the deal.
Fuck
it. I do what I want.
I'm king now, who's gonna tell me no?
With my hands on her hips, I pulled Luna flush against me, erasing the small space between us, and I pushed my lips to hers.
Mine.
“To the beginning of the end. Hail the gods,” I heard Hades conclude.
The beginning of the end of solitude and silence. This was the beginning of the end, because the two most fucked up gods just sat on the damn throne.
This could be fun.
Caellum
N yx just got married to Luna in front of us and was now king among gods that were dead.
He was the last standing king... as far as we knew, or until Arianna gets her shit together.
Their honeymoon phase was over the minute Bolton realized he had been dethroned.
Deemed fake.
Deemed unnecessary.
Nyx just got married, and logic was telling me to fuck the timing. This was bigger than timing. More important than milestones.
This needed to happen before people started to notice Dorian was gone and eventually dead.
I gave them a few hours to celebrate with everyone, counting how many drinks they had and watching something that was supposed to be joyous have an ugly ripple effect through the group.
Sitting in the same booth, I watched Hades and Kate flirt from a safe distance, Arianna get even more drunk, Bolton grind his teeth, Jasper not even here, Austin high as Olympus, Beau watching Austin closer than I was, and Leo flexing his knowledge of interior design.
Our once perfect circle was shaky, jagged, with lines trying to curve enough to make a circle.
A piss poor try if I ever saw one.
Humanity was leaking in at all sides, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I saw Nyx and Luna sneak upstairs to their private room. I couldn't give them any more time. Dawn was coming, and so was whoever Dorian was with.
It had already been 48 hours, doing the math in my head, as I stomped up the stairs, hoping they'd hear me coming their way.
Stopping at the same door as I found them before, it wasn't even closed all the way. Cracked, I could see Luna in her black panties and bra twisting around the pole on the small round platform expertly.
Maybe she was always just a little bad and no one noticed it. Good girls don't move like that; they don't know how to taunt with their hips and send every nerve into overreacting.
Swallowing a lump in my throat, I rubbed my eyes and tried to shake off just how deprived I was.
I replaced sex, food, and social connections for researching what was coming.
Every part of me was buried in books.
My knuckles collided with the cracked door, and Nyx shouted, “Go away!”
“I would, but we gotta handle some shit…” I leaned against the wall, blocking my view of Luna, before I tested the limits of our friendship and asked to join.
I heard him groan, and his belt jingle as the steps creeped up closer. The door opened up more, showcasing a shirtless Nyx, his pants still undone, and Luna wrapping his suit jacket around her.
“It's my wedding night, Caellum. What is it that's more important?”
“We need to grab the journals and weapons before The Cloth gets them. They're gonna notice he's gone.”
I could see the logic set in as his body leaned into the open door, his hand reaching to the top of it. “You have shit timing.”
“I waited until after the ritual, didn't I?”
Nyx turned to Luna. “Guess being king starts now. I'll be back.”
Luna pushed past us both and stood in the hallways with Nyx’s jacket tied around her with a piece of lace from her dress. With her hip popped and a new attitude that demanded respect, she said, “Okay, let's go.”
“Luna, you don't need to go. We can handle this.” I was being as gentle as I could be.
Nyx’s body pushed flush against hers, and I couldn't make out the inaudible words he whispered into her ear. She backed down after whatever he said, and she playfully hit my arm. “He better come back in one piece, Caellum.”
“Yes, your highness.” I was all smirks and trying not to laugh.
Getting in the car, I knew Nyx would want to drive, so I slid into the passenger’s seat, peering behind me, like someone was following me.
Maybe it was the residual stain Luna left on me flexing her new power.
Who knew all that rage in her thirsted for death.
??
Nyx knew where Dorian’s house was with no guidance. He had been here enough times to remember exactly where it was. That should have been a red flag, but it wasn't. It was Nyx’s fire fighting to exist in the same place as water.
A little crazy.
A little unrealistic.
All for the one weakness all men have: the love of a woman. Even if we didn’t want it, need it, or even treat it with the care it deserved, we would do anything to possess the feeling of invincibility love gave us.
He pulled up to the curb, and we looked around, noticing the street seemed just as full as game night, yet there weren't any lights on, or Dorian, for that matter.
Something was wrong.
Off.
Dangerous.
Creeping along the house, we made our way to the back, when I walked right into Nyx’s hard back, colliding with what felt like a wall.
“What?” I whisper-shouted, when he tilted his head to the two men in all black holding old rifles on perimeter duty.
We didn't have to wait for The Cloth; they were already here.
Our powers weren't something either of us used often and certainly not openly. We didn't even know how strong we really were.
Healing was in the car, unable to heal her broken soul.
Manipulation and strength were all we had.
I pushed past him, walking out of the shadows, like these guns or men didn't matter. They really didn't. Rusty or not, I knew being godly was the best weapon to bring to a gunfight.
The two men were in combat boots and all black, like a military mercenary team. They shouted my direction, “Hey! Credentials.”
I smirked. “The son of Athena and Prometheus… that enough to go on?”
The normal reaction to us being gods isn’t what this guy was giving off. He stood resolute and uncharacteristically regal like nothing could blow him over.
He launched forward, trying to grab my arm and force me to wherever they took enemies, but I stood still, finding his eyes with mine. “We aren’t going to do that. You’re going to pretend you didn’t see me.”
The guy standing well over my 6’1” stature looked unimpressed, before dumbfounded, as he stepped out of my way. I waved my hand. “Come on, princess. We don’t have all day before my tricks wear off.”
Carefully, quietly, we looked around every corner, looking for more of the men in black, who clearly belonged to the same faction Dorian was.
Upstairs, things were quiet, eerily so, when we made it to the study, where every Henry Jon journal was kept. The weapons were in the same room, as if he wanted someone to piece this shit together.
Dumbass.
You never hide the pieces together.
Nyx was watching the hallway with the door cracked, while I snatched up as many journals as I could hold, before we heard voices closing in on us.
“Fuck, we got company. We gotta get out of here.”
Nyx was stating the obvious, but not so obvious was how we were going to get out of here. I did the math quickly: one window, one small closet, and the door we came in.
Hiding never worked. At least the horror movies I had been watching offered some type of wisdom.
I opened the window and waved him my direction as he closed the door carefully. The voices and creeks were all muffled now. I waited for him to hurry up, when he stopped in the middle of the room and pulled his shirt off. “Are you kidding me?”
Nyx shot me a look of pure death. Thankfully, it wasn’t the other thing he was king of: sex.
“We can’t touch it. It’s like poison for us…” Wrapping the fabric around his hand, he picked up the brass knuckles Dorian used on him in the alleyway before anyone had believed him.
The bruises were still there, months later, still just as dark. Dorian was about to leave a mark on the entire circle, labeled betrayal, when they found out what we were up to.
Giving Nyx a nod, he fit himself through the open window and jumped down. It was only one floor, but we knew from playing football that one wrong move could mean broken bones better than anyone.
I sat on the window frame and listened to the voices on the other side of the door, trying to make out the words or sentences—anything to give me more clues to the illusive Cloth Henry Jon had formed in his daughter’s death.
I couldn’t hear shit, and maybe that was the gods smiting us for the death, the reckless endangerment, the rules we clearly ignored, and the humanity we all gave into.
Sitting there, I debated getting up and cracking the door again, while Nyx whispered-shouted at me to get moving from below.
The door swung open, and three men in all black stood there, looking like the rebels of a military group, with clean cut faces and a thirst for vengeance.
Everything in me stilled, like I would blend into the white of the room with my black jeans and half-washed hands still with dried blood on them.
I took a hard, long look, then jumped, before they turned their attention to the breeze coming through the window. As I landed on the grass, from the second floor, I rolled my body into the bushes, hiding.
I had just seen the men after us, The Cloth. That wasn’t the part skewing my features into confusion. I just saw a ghost, a man I met years ago, and we were responsible for the death of his daughter.
Avery
Ni ght-running along the bridge over the river was the only thing that made me come back down from the stress that built.
I worked for Seattle Now on Channel 4 as a news journalist and reporter, putting on the jobs no one wanted, like parties, openings, last minute crimes, and the time slot on television that no one wanted.