“Royce,” I cry, the word barely leaving my lips. “Royce!”
Royce slices through one vine wrapping itself around his arm and turns toward me.
“Throw me your coat,” I rasp.
Royce gets his arm free and rips off his jacket, tossing it to me.
“Get the men free,” I add, noticing two more shapes still wrapped in vines.
He nods and heads back toward where the remaining men are guarded by a string of vines.
Between the numbness in my hands and the unending convulsions shaking my muscles, I have to fumble his jacket around until I find what I’m looking for. Two gold buttons are left.
I touch one, and I feel life well up in me. No, not life. Power.
The gold bounces around inside me, begging to be let go. It gives me energy to scoot my way back toward the nearest vine. I almost don’t want to give up that energy when Royce screams, “They’re free.”
I slam my hand into the grapevine.
The entire vineyard turns to gold in a flash.
The gold rushing from my body feels like it’s taking my life with it. I pull my hand away and sag backward.
Somewhere, Hettie is screaming. I lift my eyes enough to see a golden vine, now frozen in place, has her lifted by her hair. She tries to pull free but doesn’t make it far. Eventually she slips a knife from her boot and slices herself free, cutting off several inches of her auburn curls.
All around, men are wriggling free of the hardened vines looped around their torsos and ankles. Once they do, they all congregate around Lenny.
“I told you he could do amazing things with his feet,” Phipps brags as the men pat Lenny on the back.
But Phipps doesn’t stop patting Lenny. It’s like touching him lets Phipps know he’s all right.
Royce finds his way to me. His face says everything when he looks at me. I don’t look good. Even my vision has started to turn green at the edges.
I try to force a smile. “We’re almost there.” I hold out his jacket to him.
“Keep it,” he says, crouching low and draping it over my shoulders.
He plants a kiss on my forehead. When he pulls back, he looks like he wants to say more. I can see it there, the pain in his eyes—the pain I used to mistake for hardness. He’s building his walls back up. The walls I’d thought made him cold and unfeeling so few months ago.
I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish there’d been another way.
He lifts me gently to my feet, leaning me against him.
I try to take a step but don’t get far.
He loops his arm under mine and across my back. “I’ve got you.”
“I know,” I say, meeting his gaze. And that look says all the words we don’t have time to share.
He gives me one last kiss, anchoring me to him. His lips are light and cool, and I could stay that way forever. But all too soon, he pulls away.
“Let’s go get Dionysus,” he says.
I nod, and what’s left of our crew—stained, bleeding, and limping—moves through the golden vineyard.
“At least we know Dionysus won’t be making wine from these any time soon,” Hettie says, her now uneven hair frizzing around her face like a lion’s mane.
“If he does try,” Phipps chimes in, “I hope he chokes on it.” The light reflecting off the golden vines shoots through his diamond arm and plays about his face. He grabs a grape with his good arm, but it doesn’t come loose from the bunch. He sighs.
Halfway through the vineyard, the ground slopes upward toward a cliff overlooking the ocean. Perched on the edge of the cliff, a stone structure peeks through the gaps in the vines.
I cry out in excitement, but it comes out as a cough. I double over and hack until I spit out green gunk.
I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, smearing the substance across my skin. It burns, but I ignore it.
“We should rest,” Royce says.
“No.” I straighten. “Keep going.” I need every moment I can get with Dionysus. And right now, I’m not sure how many I have left.
The vineyard phases in and out of focus. Somehow, I keep my feet moving.
At the top of the hill, an open-air pantheon as large as our ship blocks out the afternoon sun. Twisted columns race upward to support a triangular roof. Even steps lead up to an extravagant display.
A table laden with platters of colorful fruits, meat on skewers, and desserts dripping sticky icing down their sides takes up the bulk of the pantheon. At one side of it sits the man who’s haunted my dreams for years.
He looks the same as he did in the Oracle’s vision, with ruddy cheeks hiding behind a dark auburn beard. But up close, arched eyebrows give his face a mischievous look. So does his smile as he places the cup he’d been drinking from on the table and turns to the figure seated across from him.
“Ha. You should’ve taken me up on that bet the little humans would make it through the jungle alive,” Dionysus says. “You would’ve won for once.”
The second figure turns to stare down at us.
It’s Triton.
CHAPTER 27
Triton’s cup clinks against the table as he puts it down. “Ahh, but then you would’ve had the harpies or the vines or Aristaeus’s bees actually kill them instead of leading them to where we could watch them battle it out.”
“They’re not Aristaeus’s bees anymore. They’re mine. I won them fair and square.” Dionysus’s face turns even redder, and I wonder if he’s drunk.
“Of course,” Triton says, waving his hand dismissively. “You’ve told me many times—you’ve won something from every god and goddess. And now all that’s left is to beat the Great Oracle herself.”
“You traitor,” Hettie shouts. She’s got her sword out, but as her eyes swing back and forth between Triton and Dionysus, it’s hard to tell who she wants dead more.
“I told you not to believe in friendship, that they don’t last.” Triton takes a bite of an apple, spraying juice down his chin. “And you’re a fool if you truly thought I’d want to go against Dionysus. We’re gods. We belong together. And we’ll exist long after your pathetic human forms are gone.” Triton’s eyes drag over my green-gold skin. “Which for some of you doesn’t look like it’ll be long.”
“How could you do this?” I say, each word taking effort to get out.
“Because you’re all so gullible. You broke me out of my palace, and now I’m free.” He spreads his arms wide. “I suppose I should thank you for that. My father never would’ve let me go without your help.”
I sag against Royce, my knees nearly giving out. My whole body shudders, and my stomach seizes inward. I can’t take anymore.
“Ah, poor girl.” Dionysus picks his goblet back up. It’s so big it nearly takes two hands to drink from. “I was hoping to see you here in all your golden glory for a fight of epic proportions. But look at you. Brought down by a gorgon.” He shakes his head. “I really don’t like seeing my creatures broken—all that power wasted.”
“I’m not one of your creatures,” I spit, using all the strength I can muster to lift my eyes to meet his gaze.
“I could cure you.” He leans forward. His hand goes to the great wooden staff resting next to his chair. Wrapped up and down it are vines ripe with plump grapes.
“How?” Royce’s voice sounds out next to me. “How would you cure her?”
“No,” I whisper, but Royce doesn’t look at me. I’m not even sure if the word truly passed my lips. A constant ringing in my ears is starting to drown out everything else, as if the world is slowly disappearing one sense at a time.
Dionysus grins at Royce. “Didn’t learn your father’s lesson, did you?”
Royce stiffens. “How?”
Dionysus spreads his arms wide. “By entering into a friendly wager.”
“What kind of wager?”
I tug on his arm. I try to tell him to stop, but I start coughing instead. I fight to get my breath back. I can’t let him do this.
<
br /> “Sounds like you don’t have much time,” Dionysus says, “so I’ll make this fast. I’ll cure her right now. Then, all you have to do is make it back across the island to your pegasi and leave before the sun sets.”
“And if we don’t?” Royce asks.
“Then you and those winged horses belong to me.”
Royce looks down at me.
I gasp in small amounts of air. I press closer against him. “You can’t . . . you can’t be considering this.”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“We barely made it across the island.” I pause to catch my breath. “We can’t risk it. It isn’t worth it.”
“It’s worth it to me.” He cups my face in his hands.
“We should take it,” Hettie says, coming up next to us.
I shake my head. “We won’t make it.” Another coughing fit rips through me, but I wheeze in a breath, fighting for each word. “He . . . he controls everything on this island . . . Too risky.”
“Time’s wasting,” Dionysus calls down. “I need a decision.”
“Please, Royce,” I pant. “Lagonia is more important. Even . . . even if we made it across, there’s . . . there’s no way we’d make it back here to find a way to stop Dionysus before the sun sets. You know—” It’s hard to get my tongue to move. “You know what the Oracle said about him setting foot on Lagonia.” My chest shudders from the effort as I wait for his reply.
Royce stares into my eyes, his eyes so blue I could drown in them. His brow scrunches as he scans my face. Finally, he drops his hands from my cheeks and straightens as he faces Dionysus. “No deal.”
“Pity,” Dionysus says. “But not a total loss, I suppose. Triton and I will still get a show.” He slams the end of his staff into the ground. “Finish them,” he calls.
From all around the structure, a handful of men and women stream, followed by a pack of satyrs. They spread out in a line on either side of the stairs leading up to Dionysus.
My vision doubles as I stare at the battle line closing ranks, blocking off the staircase.
“I—I have to get to—to Dionysus,” I gasp to Royce as my heart squeezes, taking a moment to restart again.
Royce looks from the stairs down at me, his jaw set. “I’ll get you there. No matter what it takes.” He rests his hand on my cheek for one moment. One single moment I wish could last forever. Because I see eternity in his eyes. Every moment we’ve had together and all the ones we’ll never get to have.
As a tear slips down my cheek, sizzling where it slides against my feverish skin, battle cries erupt all around. The snarls of the satyrs mix with human roars as Dionysus’s force charges forward.
“I love you,” Royce says as he pulls his sword. “And I will get you to Dionysus if it’s the last thing I do.” He presses his lips against mine, and then he’s ripping away, pulling me forward into the fray with a battle cry unlike anything I’ve heard from him before.
A satyr materializes in front of us. Royce doesn’t even let go of me as he fights it off. He drives the beast back and back, blocking every attack with his sword. He fights with a determination I’ve never seen before.
But as soon as the beast goes down, a man saunters in front of us. Smoke escapes from his lips.
Royce stills, hoisting me closer to him. He raises his sword upward.
Our new foe laughs. “And Dionysus thought this would be hard.”
The man sucks in a mouthful of air, and his chest expands unnaturally. There’s a single moment where I think he might burst, but instead, he exhales.
A scorching blast of fire radiates toward us.
“Look out,” Royce shouts, sending us reeling toward the ground. I smash into the dirt, unable to raise my arms enough to break my fall. Royce rolls several feet away. He reaches out to me as he tries to rise to his knees, but a metal foot crashes down on his arm.
Royce roars in pain, reeling back toward the earth. But he manages to wrench his arm free enough to roll to the side and stagger upright.
His assailant’s entire body is made up of weapons built into his skin. It’s one of the creatures I saw in the Oracle’s vision. One hand has been replaced by a sword while the other is now made of an ax. Where his ears should be, two mace balls dangle, their spikes crashing into the daggers that protrude from his shoulders and back. He swings his ax toward Royce, but I don’t see what happens next because the man who breathes fire steps before me.
He crouches low and twists his head so it’s level with mine. He blows a ring of smoke across my face, causing me to cough and hack.
He laughs and retreats a few feet, once again sucking in an unnatural amount of air. Then he opens his mouth, and it’s like staring at a lava pit. Glowing swirls of red and black rattle around inside, ready to spew forth.
He exhales, releasing the fire directly at me. And just when I expect the pain to hit, something shiny flashes before me.
It’s Phipps. He’s used his diamond arm to block the flames, sending them splitting to either side of him. And as soon as the man stops spewing fire, Phipps lets out a cry and moves forward, trying to catch the man across the temple with his arm. But it weighs too much, and he’s too slow. Giving the man time to duck out of the way.
“Go,” Phipps calls to me as he blocks another molten blast so powerful it pushes him backward.
I flop onto my stomach and dig my elbows into the ground, inching closer to the pantheon steps. But every movement I make sends feverish flashes boiling through my body, as if every bit of skin is covered in invisible, raw blisters.
Satyr hooves crash down mere hairsbreadths from my head. Dirt and blood spray before me. I don’t stop. I dig my fingers into the earth when my elbows ache too much to keep moving forward.
And then I’m there at the steps, which loom like a mountain above me. At the top, Dionysus sits and laughs, spraying wine down his beard. Triton refuses to look my direction as I claw my way up the first step.
My breath comes out in haggard exhales. I can still barely get any air in. I lean back against one of the pillars flanking the stairs, finally getting a view of the battlefield.
A short, thin, balding man rips boulders from the base of the pantheon wall and tosses them into the fray, not seeming to care if he hits friend or foe. Next to him, a woman with curly brown hair and dark skin disappears. She reappears right in front of one the sailors in the middle of the field who just sliced his blade across the stomach of a satyr. She rams a dagger into the man’s chest and then rips it free before vanishing again.
A shadow passes quickly above me as a large bird swoops forward. But it’s not truly a bird. It’s a human covered in feathers. He plucks pointed brown feathers from his body and flings them downward, catching one sailor in the neck. Hettie manages to get her shield up in time to block most of the arrow-like quills, but one sinks into her thigh. She cries out and rips it free, not even seeming to notice the blood trickling down her leg.
Her eyes follow the attacker’s path as he flies over the rest of the crew. The next time the birdman swoops low, Hettie hurls her shield, catching the creature in the head. It drops to the ground, skidding across the dirt and getting crushed under the hooves of an advancing satyr.
Hettie doesn’t even watch the man fall because behind her, a woman with olive skin starts to glow. Then there’s a blinding flash. I blink over and over again, but I can’t see anything.
Screams erupt around me as men cry out that they’re blinded.
And then the screaming gets worse. More strangled. And far too often, it cuts off with a gurgle.
When I can finally see, bodies lay on the ground all around me as the satyrs cut them down and more and more of Dionysus’s creatures use their powers.
A pair of twins vault forward. They use each other to flip and surprise men from behind as each wields a dagger with dizzying speed. Past them, a woman replicates into several versions of herself and surrounds a group. Another man shoots bolts of lightning from his hands.
Yet another woman shakes the ground around her, sending out mini earthquakes anytime someone gets close.
I spot Royce still facing the man made out of weapons as Hettie darts toward the woman who’d let out the blinding light just as her body starts to softly glow again. Hettie crashes into her and knocks her to the ground.
Rhat tumbles across the middle of the field as a satyr presses its attack. Behind him, a sailor falls to his knees as a satyr’s claws rake across his chest. The man slumps face down. Behind him, Lenny has his fingers curled around something. I can’t tell what it is until a satyr runs up to him. It looks down, readying a killing blow. But it turns to stone. The gorgon eyes.
More and more satyrs appear. Phipps struggles forward and spins in circles, using his momentum to hit his diamond arm into the temples of the satyrs, making them go limp. But they land on all the human bodies that litter the ground. More people who won’t make it back to Lagonia.
The only way to end this is to end Dionysus. I suck in as deep a breath as I can manage and dig my elbows into the stone, pulling myself up the steps. I cry out with the effort of lifting my body over and over again.
The metallic clangs and pained cries of the battle fall away as I put all my energy into making it up those steps. I dig my fingers into every crack, always moving forward. My chest rattles with every inhale, but after what seems like an eternity, I make it to the last step.
I push myself up, and I stare down Dionysus. I crawl toward the nearest pillar and lean against it, facing him.
“Well, well, well,” Dionysus says. “This one’s still got some fight in her.” He shoves off the table and comes over, towering above me, inspecting me as if I were some horse he wanted to buy. He pats my cheek.
I turn away from his touch.
“Should I put you out of your misery?” He reaches for his staff.
“Wait,” I call out, the sound raspy and low, as low as my pulse feels.
His hand stalls, and he turns back toward me.
A Curse of Gold Page 24