Fates and Furies (The Sphinx Book 4)

by Raye Wagner

  “I swear on the River Styx, if you give me the Book of the Fates for the Sphinx, I will break my binding on the Underworld, though I would rather see you dead.”

  Hope nodded. “At least we understand each other.”

  “I want that book.” Hera leaned forward, fire flashing in her eyes, her hatred seething in the air around her. “Bring it to me.” Then the goddess of motherhood and fidelity disappeared, leaving only anger and bitterness in her wake.

  Hope sat on the bed and closed her eyes. She thought of her mother. Then Priska. Then Haley’s mom, Soo-Jin. Those were examples of motherhood. Those were women who showed kindness and love and fidelity. Taking slow, deep breaths, Hope filled her lungs with the belief that good would triumph. That somehow, she would beat Hera at her game. Then Hope stood and went to take a shower to wash off the hate. On her way to the bathroom, she saw the sewing kit from Hephaestus sitting on the desk.

  Much like with the coin in her bra, she had a feeling she should keep his gift close, too.

  Hope tugged the comforter up to the top of the mattress, pulling the yellow tome out from underneath. She stared at her father’s Book of the Fates. Apollo was Luc’s father. Her previous thoughts had been derailed when Hera showed up, but now Hope was staring at evidence that would prove the curse had been fulfilled. She could hardly believe it.

  Had Apollo known Leto was pregnant when he killed his son? Had he intentionally tried to stop the fulfillment of the curse, or had he really been that possessive of the Sphinx? Both seemed perfectly plausible, given what little she knew of the god. But did it even matter? Apollo’s offspring had in fact married Phoibe’s offspring and had a complete family. Didn’t that mean the curse was fulfilled?

  “Oh. My. Gods,” Hope whispered as she held the book to her chest.

  So what did she need to do now? Why was the curse still in effect? She’d changed since returning from the Underworld, so there was no question it was still in effect. Had Apollo gotten off because he’d killed his son before Hope was born? Because even if he’d been ignorant when it happened, he knew. He’d even admitted to being her ancestor. The very idea of the curse not being fulfilled on a technicality made her blood boil.

  Instinct told her that Apollo would get away with whatever he could, technicality or not. Which meant she would have to find someone who had the power to judge. Her hand went to her chest.

  The coin.

  Themis, the goddess of divine judgment. She was one of the only Titans not sealed in Tartarus, because when called upon, she had the power to restore divine order. Her symbols were the scales of justice, which meant Hope would need to ask for an audience with the Titan goddess.

  Only Hope didn’t even know how to do that.

  A knock at Hope’s door startled her, and the coin slipped from her fingers to the stone floor and rolled toward the desk. Hope jumped off the bed and chased after what she believed was her only chance at fair judgement.

  Another knock came, this one harder, more impatient than the first.

  “Just a minute,” Hope yelled. Certainly there couldn’t be another god there to yell at her, but then who else could it be? She wished for Xan, even more for Athan, and opened the door.

  Every time she saw Hermes, she was startled by the resemblance to his son. They had the same runner’s build, the same bronze-colored hair. The same relaxed posture. The same handsome features. Only Hermes was glaring at her.

  “What have you done to my son?” he seethed as he pulled her into her room. Looming over her, he continued his rage. “He gave up his immortality for you, but that wasn’t enough?”

  What had she done now? “I haven’t seen him since you took him away. And I wouldn’t have put him in the Underworld—”

  “No?” He snapped. “Where, pray tell, would you have put him?”

  Hope shrugged. She had no idea why Hermes was so upset with her now. “Maybe keep him in your temple?”

  He shook his head like she’d suggested the lair of Apollo himself. “You don’t get it. I may be the only god with access to my temple, but every child of mine also has access, and they are not all as good or kind as Athan.”

  “Oh.” She could believe that after seeing Xan and his brother fight. “Who are you afraid of getting him?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  She was so sick of not understanding. Everyone telling her how she didn’t get it, the politics of the gods, the manipulation of their words and meanings, their hidden agendas. Why couldn’t they all leave well enough alone? Why did the gods have to make bigger problems?

  Her frustration finally boiled over, and she yelled at Hermes. “So then tell me. Stop with the half-truths, the vague threats, the over-the-top obtuseness. If you have something to say, something you want me to understand, then open your frickin’ mouth and tell me.”

  Hermes clenched his jaw. “You had the Fates weave a thread with his, right?’

  Her ballooning anger disappeared, and confused, she nodded. “It was what they did for Priska. They said pulling the immortal thread would make him too weak by himself. They had to weave it with someone else’s.”

  “Did you ask who’s thread they used?”

  She hadn’t even thought about it. She expected it would be someone he cared about, someone who would be strong. She tried to picture who that person could be. His mother was already dead. His father was a god, so out of the picture since he wasn’t there, and Athan’s friends . . . He’d come to the Underworld with Xan and Dahlia, and she always presumed it was because he knew how much she cared about them. But what if . . . ? “He doesn’t have a lot of friends?”

  She could hardly believe it. He was so friendly and nice. Everyone in Goldendale had been enamored as soon as they’d met him. But he’d always seemed a little like he’d been wearing a mask then. Weeks had passed before she felt like she really got to know him. But she’d assumed . . .

  Hermes glowered at her as though she’d meant to insult him. “What do you think?”

  “So, whose thread did they use?” Certainly they wouldn’t use some random stranger. “Myrine’s?”

  Hermes raised his eyebrows. “Myrine?” he asked incredulously, throwing his arms up in the air. “Really? The oracle?”

  Hope nodded.

  “You do know who the god of prophesy is, don’t you?”

  She did. But that made no sense. “Athan said that Myrine . . . That she would help him. Why would Apollo’s oracle help Athan?”

  Hermes sank into the white chair by the desk. His features were drawn and haggard when he asked, “Did you know Thanatos had built an army of Skia?”

  The sudden shift in topic took Hope a minute to process, but her thoughts went back to the Underworld. She did have a faint memory of seeing a lot of Skia at his home, but it wasn’t until later she discovered what had happened. She nodded.

  “Did you know Thanatos killed your mother?”

  She nodded again. “But he said he had no choice.”

  Hermes pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. Well, did you know Apollo brought Thanatos up from the Underworld to kill her?”

  She nodded again, but a little more slowly, this time. Hermes was putting pieces of a puzzle together for her, but he wasn’t telling her what the picture was. “They know each other?”

  “We all know each other, Hope. Myrine likes Athan, but her first responsibility is to her benefactor, Apollo. Apollo had Thanatos send Skia to the portal when Athan crossed into the Underworld to get you. Want to take a guess how Apollo knew?”

  “Myrine?” she whispered, even as her mind thought of how else the oracle may have betrayed him.

  “That is only brushing the surface of the diversions the gods play. But I think it’s safe to assure you that the Fates are not so cruel as to weave his thread with Myrine’s.” Pain flashed across his face. “Any other guesses?”

  He was only toying with her. He knew who it was, but he wanted her to feel guilty when she figured it out. Which lef
t only one person. “Me.”

  “Exactly,” he said, pointing at her. “Did the Fates tell you what happens when two threads are woven together? If one person dies, do you know what happens to the other?”

  Hope swallowed, but the lump in her throat wouldn’t go away. Guilt dropped on her shoulder, hard and heavy, and the burden was staggering. Hope went to the chair by the bed and sank into it. While her thread protected Athan with her immortality, if she died . . . “Will he be safe in the Underworld?”

  Hermes dropped his head in his hands. “I don’t know. It was the best I could think of.”

  All the resentment he had for her made perfect sense, and she felt gratitude, because even if he didn’t mean to, Hermes protecting his son gave her a measure of relief. “If he dies . . .”

  “I don’t know if it would affect you or not, but that is not really my concern.”

  Of course not.

  “What can I do?” Hope asked.

  “You are in over your head here. I don’t know what Apollo has promised you, but unless he’s sworn on the Styx, I would caution you against putting any faith in his words.”

  Shame prickled through her chest. “And if I have him swear on the Styx?”

  Hermes snorted. “First, he won’t,” he said as he ticked off his fingers. “Second, if he were to promise something, he is much more adept at word manipulation than even the gods in the Underworld. And third, and most importantly, he does not have the power needed to free Athan. So, stop being naïve, or desperate, or whatever this is.”

  The god’s words were worse than physical blows. She had no defense for this, no plan for attack, nothing.

  “The Olympians’ games will not stop. I suggest you beg their pardon and leave. Don’t delude yourself that you have any power here.” He crossed the room and stood over her. “And don’t—and I mean this more than anything else I’ve said—don’t you dare get yourself killed.”

  The weight of his words pounded against her, and she pulled into herself, trying to minimize the impact. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  “Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought. Look at me, Hope,” he demanded.

  Hope stared at the fury blazing in Hermes’s eyes and waited for the next lash of his tongue.

  “You’d better fix this. You’d better find a way to make him free, or so help me, I will make your eternal existence as miserable as I can.” He grabbed the front of her chiton and pulled her close. His handsome features twisted in his ugly anger, and he glared at her. “Do you understand?”

  “Get away from her,” Xan said as he walked into her room.

  Relief gave her courage, and she smacked Hermes’s hand away, falling into the chair when he suddenly released her.

  “How did you get out?” Hermes turned his sneer on Xan. “Did Ares let you have time off for good behavior, or did someone else sneak you out?”

  Xan crossed the white expanse and stepped in front of the chair where Hope sat. “Don’t pretend like you care.”

  Hermes stepped back from Xan, but not much, and the two squared off.

  “You’re acting like you could actually harm me, Son of Ares. Your arrogance is matched only by your father’s.”

  The insult was well placed, and Xan visibly flinched from Hermes’s words. But as Xan turned away from the god, his gaze landed on Hope, and whatever he saw in Hope’s face seemed to set his determination. Facing Hermes, Xan drew the shears from the sheath at his waist.

  The opaque crystal handles looked much like the marble rock of Olympus, and Hope stood up next to her friend.

  Hermes sucked in a breath and scooted back several paces. “What is this? Where did you get those?”

  Xan nodded. “That’s what I thought. Now get out.”

  Hermes stared at them, his gaze darting to the shears every few seconds, but he didn’t move.

  “Get out,” Xan repeated, then he opened the scissors.

  Hermes held up his hands. “Zeus sent me to bring you to him. Both of you. He’s requested an audience.”

  It did not take a genius to know Zeus’s request was a command.

  “Now?” Hope asked. Could she really not get a second to get her bearings?

  “That’s why I came here.”

  Right. The threats were just a major bonus. Hope knew he loved Athan, but she thought that was probably Hermes’s only redeeming quality.

  Xan put his hand at the small of Hope’s back. “We’ll meet you in the hall in a few minutes.”

  Hermes shook his head. “I wouldn’t keep Zeus waiting.”

  “Why does he want an audience?” Hope blurted. What would Zeus want with her? Or Xan for that matter?

  Hermes didn’t answer. He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him.

  Xan tucked the scissors into their sheath and pulled Hope in for a hug.

  She melted into him, and her tears started again.

  He was clean, and whatever abuse he’d taken at the hands of his father, he’d healed from it. Holding her tightly, he smoothed her hair as he shushed and soothed her.

  “How did you get out?” she asked.

  “Apollo let me out a few minutes ago. He healed me. All of it. Then he told me to come here.”

  She couldn’t believe it, and she wondered how she should take his gift.

  “Creepiest thing ever, Hope,” Xan said while pulling away enough to look into her eyes. “Whatever he’s feeding you, he is a shite-full arse, and you’d better not trust him.”

  “He said he’d keep you safe. And Athan, too.”

  “He is a bleedin’ liar. They all are.”

  Hope went over what she’d learned from Luc’s book and what Hermes had said. She told Xan about Hera and her promise.

  “Bloody Hades,” Xan said under his breath as he pulled his hand through his hair.

  “Can I ask you something?” Hope asked.

  Xan studied her face before he answered. With his free hand, he wiped away the one spot of moisture on her cheek with his thumb, and then he heaved a sigh. “Always.”

  “If you knew we weren’t going to make it out alive, would you still have chosen to get involved with me?”

  Xan bent down until he was looking Hope in the eyes. “No matter what happens to me, or Athan, or anyone else, you are only responsible for your choices. Sure, they affect others; that is part of how life weaves us together, luv. But if you give up and give in to Apollo, then all of our sacrifices will be for nothing. Even if we all die, all of us, if you stand up to him, it will be worth it, because you, me, Athan, and Dahlia will all die with our integrity intact. Who you really are comes down to just one thing. You are the summary of what you do.”

  “I’m so afraid.”

  “Of what? Death? We’ve already been to the Underworld. It’s not so bad, right?” He chuckled when she rolled her eyes. Then he sobered. “When I said I’d come, I knew there was a real possibility we wouldn’t leave Olympus alive. I’m okay with that. I would do it all again, Hope. Never doubt that.”

  Her fear wasn’t that she was going to die. If it were, she’d still be afraid. Her fear had been that her friends would resent her, abandon her. But seeing Xan resolute and firm washed away her fear. “I love you.”

  His crooked smile was like sunshine to her soul.

  “I know you do, lass. And I meant what I said. You’re an incredible and special woman. It has been my pleasure to call you my friend.” He pulled her close and kissed her head. “Here.” He pulled out the scissors from his belt and extended them toward her. “I want you to have these. They are a woman’s tool, I think. As much as I’ve tried, I’ve only been able to cut the one thread, and only when Hephaestus held it for me. Perhaps you’ll be able to figure them out.”

  Something about his words felt like goodbye. “Don’t give up on me,” she choked. “You can’t leave me here.”

  Xan shook his head and pushed the shears into her hand.

  She missed his next words because as soon as the sciss
ors from the Fates touched her skin, the room shifted. It was no longer solid walls and furniture, but strands of thread looking like a woven image. She raised her hand to touch the thin filaments, but with a single blink, her vision cleared and the room solidified.

  Xan raised his eyebrows. “It happened to you, too?”

  She nodded and repeated her plea. “Please don’t leave me.”

  He tapped her chin with his closed fist. “I’m not going anywhere without you.” He tugged her to the door, opened it, and stepped into the hall. “Besides, I think we’re going to be okay.”

  She hoped so.

  “Let’s go talk to the king of the gods,” Xan said with a cocky smirk. “Maybe he can give me some pointers with the ladies.”

  Hope couldn’t help the snort of disgust that escaped her. “You better not take pointers from him.”

  Xan chuckled. “Get your father’s book, just in case. Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone.”

  Hope grabbed Luc’s Book of the Fates and followed Xan out the door.

  Hermes stood a few paces down the hall, engrossed with the device in his hand. As soon as they approached, he put the slim black phone in his pocket. “All ready?”

  “Not at all, but let’s get it over with.”

  The Hall of the Olympians should have felt like a shrine. The milky-white stone of Olympus was threaded with pale-gray-and-silver ribbons. By itself, the smooth polished marble was breathtakingly beautiful. So it stood to reason that the edifice regaling the majesty of the gods would invoke awe or reverence. But the ornate hall of the gods wasn’t beautiful. It was jarring. No, it was much worse than that. It was disgusting.

  The twelve Olympians were each represented by intricately carved statues, magnificent in their grandeur and detail. Hope stared up, her mouth gaping, as she and Xan picked their way past the first effigies at least fifty feet in height. She wished the gods had left well enough alone. The images of the Olympians were stunning, which made the surroundings that much more sickening.

  Reminiscent of her trip to the temple in Bellevue, the floor in front of the massive stone figures was littered with what were probably, hopefully, once tokens and gifts. Mountains and piles of rubbish were strewn in front of the statues. Heaps of it, in various stages of decay, disintegration, and rot. Crumbling stone, withered plants, gaudy fabric, and moldering bags of grain. Crumpled paper with scribbled promises, coins from around the world. Vases, figurines of china, crystal flowers, and empty wine bottles. Some of the offerings were still intact, but most of them . . . most of them were only glimpses of what they’d once been.