Fates and Furies (The Sphinx Book 4)

by Raye Wagner

  Aphrodite sighed, her hands again clutched to her chest.

  Artemis grimaced, anticipating what was coming.

  Athena picked at her nails.

  Hera’s jaw was clenched as though the tenderness of a husband was so foreign it was actually offensive. Maybe it was.

  But Demeter’s tears nearly undid Hope, and she choked on a sob.

  “This is very touching. A story that would move anyone to compassion,” Zeus said in a tone that clearly indicated he was an exception. “But so far there is nothing to judge.”

  Hope held up her hand. “Please,” she said as she pushed her emotion down, “I’m not finished.”

  He sat back in his seat with a huff. “I see. Well then, please finish.”

  She held up the slim, yellow Book of the Fates. “I was given this a while ago. Do you know what it is?”

  Hera sucked in a breath.

  Zeus narrowed his gaze. “Where did you get that?”

  “I went to the Underworld, seeking the truth about my curse.”

  The king of the gods nodded slowly, his gaze darting to the other gods.

  “I met with my mother and father, but shortly after, I fell into the Lethe. When I awoke, I had no memory of what they’d said.”

  Zeus’s eyes were wild when he turned his focus back to her. “Unfortunate. But how did you get that book?”

  “The Fates gave it to me. For the longest time I couldn’t read it, but I knew it had something to do with me, or why else would they give it to me?”

  “Indeed.” Zeus rubbed his hands together.

  “It’s the Book of the Fates of my father, Luc Symeon Nicholas, son of Apollo.”

  Profound silence blanketed the room.

  Zeus turned to his son and, in a hushed tone, asked, “Is that true?”

  Apollo shrugged. “The name is not familiar, but I’ve had many sons.”

  Hope opened the book and read aloud. The hard slant of Atropos’s writing detailed the last moments of her father’s life as well as his death. “Luc was your son and my father. The curse should be fulfilled.”

  Apollo shook his head. “Technically—”

  Hot indignation burned through her. “Technically, the conditions of the curse were satisfied. Man, wife, and child all existed. If you’d hoped to prevent its fulfillment, you were weeks too late.”

  Apollo’s eyes lit with admiration, and he inched forward on his seat, smiling at her. “You are truly the most majestic creature I’ve ever beheld.” He turned to Zeus. “I would have her as my equal. Will you condone it?”

  Xan sucked in a breath behind her and whispered, “No.”

  She had no idea if he was talking to her or himself, but to Hope, the single word was far more than a protest to Apollo’s sick proposal. Its heavy meaning condemned the entirety of the Olympian pantheon in front of them, and it grounded Hope in her determination.

  “I don’t want to be your consort,” Hope said. She snapped the thin volume closed and straightened. “I don’t want to reside on Olympus.”

  Zeus chuckled. “Then what do you want?”

  She looked at each of the gods. Excess, selfishness, arrogance, lust, and pride surrounded her. Even in their benevolence they were self-serving. More than anything, she was certain of their vindictiveness. Her gaze fell on Hermes, and she had a twinge of regret for what she knew was coming.

  The gods would never forgive her.

  She faced Apollo. He’d offered her an out, but she couldn’t take it. Regardless of his promises of what he would give her, what he could make happen for her, never once did he give her the option of what she craved.

  The gods had a wealth of experience, and somehow they lacked the wisdom of what mattered most.

  “I want my freedom.”

  Apollo’s very presence blazed with anger, and his hands clenched into fists on his lap. “Freedom?” he snapped. “You want freedom, you silly girl? There is no such thing. It’s an illusion, a fairy tale. No one is ever free.”

  Hope had nothing more to say to him, so she turned to Zeus. “I want you to acknowledge the fulfillment of the curse. I want to be free of it.”

  Zeus’s gaze darted to the Book of the Fates in her hand, and Hope had a flash of intuition. Poseidon had said that all the gods on Olympus had something to hide, something recorded in a book, which was why they’d all agreed to bind the Books of the Fates to the Underworld. She shook her head with disgust at the king of the Olympians.

  As if he could read her mind, his eyes narrowed.

  Hera leaned over to her husband and whispered something in his ear. His expression melted into a relaxed smile. “Olympians, I would hear your voice. What say you? Should the curse be lifted?”

  Hope stepped back. She felt Xan move behind her and then by her side. Dread lanced her heart, and she reached for his hand. Somehow, fear was easier to face with a loved one beside her.

  “Yes,” several voices said at once.

  Zeus held out his hand. “One at a time. I believe Hope should know who is for her and who is against her.”

  His words felt like a trap. There was something more . . . Instinctively she scooted closer to Xan.

  “Yes,” said Demeter, Aphrodite, Artemis, and Dionysus, one right after the other.

  Zeus turned to Ares, and the god of war curled his lip and said, “No.”

  Athena took a deep breath and straightened her back. “As much as it pains me to agree with my rash brother, the technicalities have, in fact, not been met.” Her weighty gaze fell on Hope. “For the familial unit to be complete, all must be present at the same time.” She shook her head. “A fetus at two or three weeks is hardly a viable family member.”

  Hope glared at the goddess of wisdom. Her retort flashed through her mind, sharp and sure. How could Athena even say that when Hope, the fetus of only two or three weeks, was standing before her now? But she bit her tongue.

  Zeus smiled at Apollo. “Son?”

  The god of the sun drew himself up in his chair, and his gaze locked with Hope’s. “You. Are. Mine.”

  She shook her head.

  But Apollo persisted. “For as long as you live, I will pursue you. On my honor as an Olympian, I will never let you go.”

  Honor? How could he even say that word? Her anger flared, and she wanted to charge up to his dais and beat him. How dare he?

  She hadn’t even realized she’d taken a step forward until Xan pulled her back.

  “Easy now, Hope,” he whispered. “It’s still one in our favor.”

  “Hermes?”

  Athan’s father sat at the edge of his marble throne, his foot bouncing. He looked ready to sprint away from the throne room, like the mounting tension had rubbed his nerves raw. “I don’t believe love can be forced, nor should it.”

  “That’s hardly a yea or a nay. What’s the matter, Hermes?”

  The god of linguistics only shook his head.

  “One of my youngest trying to seize a little power,” Zeus said with a chuckle. “No matter. If we need your voice to decide, Hermes, we’ll come back to you.” He turned to Hera. “What about you, my dear?”

  Hera straightened in her throne. Brushing a stray curl from her face, she smiled at her husband. “You have always been so good to me.”

  The blatant lie made Hope’s stomach churn.

  The queen of the Olympians shifted her attention to Apollo. “Fidelity is to be prized. It is a crucial trait in one’s relationships. If you force her, she will only betray you. Again and again.”

  If Hera said yes, the most Apollo could hope for was a tie.

  The goddess glowed with a look of victory. “I suggest you choose more wisely next time, Apollo. This one will not have you, and you’ve lost your power over her.”

  Zeus relaxed in his seat, extending his black shoes out in front of him. “This is weighty business, with no answer to please everyone it seems. The monster says she will not have you, my son, which although preposterous, is her choice. However, as
for the matter of this curse . . .”

  He stroked his beard as he stared into the air above Hope.

  Several seconds of silence passed, and the tension in the room climbed.

  Zeus took a deep breath. As he let it out, he rolled his neck.

  Hope wanted to scream at him to declare his judgment already.

  The god of the sky and the mortal realm stared at Hope, gaze boring into her.

  In her peripheral vision, she saw several of the gods standing, but she couldn’t break from Zeus’s gaze. Not until she’d heard his verdict.

  His features hardened, even as he said, “The curse of the Sphinx is hereby fulfilled and no longer binding.”

  Elation burst through her, the sweetness of her success made her skin tingle, and she wanted to jump and dance with joy. She turned to Xan and pulled him into a hug. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  She pulled back, and time seemed to stop.

  Ares and Hera each held their hands out toward Hope and Xan, their fingers spread wide, and bright fire danced along their skin.

  “No!” Apollo yelled, leaping from his chair.

  Xan turned to face the melee and tucked Hope squarely behind him, binding her to his back with his arms pulling her tight.

  Her vision was completely blocked, and she screamed at what she knew was coming.

  A blazing light lit the throne room of Olympus, and heat clawed over her for only a second before something heavy crashed into her from the side. The force pushed her to the ground, and her vision went black.

  Even before she opened her eyes, she knew where she was. The stench of overripe fruit and compost would forever haunt her, but even in the Underworld, she could still smell the acrid singe of blackened flesh from Olympus.

  She was dead.

  Xan was dead.

  And even though she’d anticipated it, even tried to convince herself that she’d accepted the inevitability of it, the ache and loss blossoming through her told her she hadn’t been prepared for death. Not really.

  Choking on the sob building in her chest, she opened her eyes to the darkness of the Underworld. Pinpricks of phosphorus light dotted the rocks above, casting an eerie glow on the realm of the dead. She could hear the waves of one of the rivers, and after the blast of Olympian Fire, the Underworld felt strangely cool.

  “Are you awake?” Hermes asked, bending over her. His face was drawn, but relief washed over his features as she wiped away her tears.

  He extended his hand to help her sit up, and she accepted gratefully. The rocky surface of the realm of the dead was not comfortable, and she struggled to her feet. “Where’s Xan?”

  Hermes frowned. “He’s behind you, but I’ll have to take him soon.”

  His words made no sense, and she dismissed them as she anxiously turned to see Xan.

  He appeared whole, just like he had in the throne room of Olympus. His dark jeans hung low on his waist, and he wore the same short sleeve T-shirt he’d had on when they saw Hephaestus. The black Celtic-patterned tattoos traced up his arms, and he needed to shave. And his eyes . . .

  Hope swallowed the emotion at the back of her throat.

  His eyes were full of love.

  Stumbling to him, she threw her arms around him . . . Only to have her body pass right through.

  Oh gods.

  Anguish clawed at her heart, shredding it, second after second, the blistering pain of grief destroying her. “No!” she screamed. “No!”

  Hope sunk to the ground, the injustice of his death bludgeoning her. It was not right. It was not fair. She should be dead, not him. He was all goodness and kindness and sacrifice. He was her best friend. How could he be dead?

  She wept, her head in her hands, trying to regain composure as emotion overwhelmed her. She wanted to shut it off, but she couldn’t. Grief wouldn’t stop, and she was helpless to force it. All at once, she felt his presence and looked up. Her tears still obscured her vision, but she could see him, the blurry outline of her Xan. She scrubbed at her face, trying to wipe away enough of the tears so she could see.

  His phantom hands passed over her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, pretending she could feel him brush her tears away.

  She choked and then coughed. Finally, in a rough voice, she asked, “Why?”

  But all she could understand of his answer was the shaking of his head. His words dropped silently to the ground, lost in the dark mists swirling around them.

  Hermes cleared his throat, reminding Hope of his presence. “He must go to Hades for judgment now.”

  Hope turned to the god. “Can’t something be done?” she asked. “What about Hades’s oath? Xan sacrificed himself for me; isn’t Hades bound to let him live?”

  Hermes’s sad smile made her heart clench with the futility of her desperation. She knew the oath was never meant to cover the future, only the past.

  “Best say your goodbye,” Hermes instructed, ducking his head.

  Hope turned back to her friend, her mentor, her champion, and protector. The weight of this loss crushed her, and she dropped her chin as she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

  Xan closed his hand into a fist and moved toward her.

  She saw his arm rise until his fist stopped just below her chin. She looked up and, through her tears, tried to memorize his features.

  His high forehead, the bump on his nose. His broad shoulders, the black tattoos. She thought of their fireside chats in the conservatory, the seemingly endless trainings, her relief when he agreed to come with her to Olympus. He was always there for her. Silently loving her. Selflessly caring for her. And she did not want to let him go.

  Was it as hard for him to let her go?

  “Can I go with him?” she begged Hermes. “If you hadn’t knocked me out of the way . . .”

  Xan shook his head and pointed at her belt.

  She looked down. She still had the scissors the Fates had given him, and even though she had no idea what to do with them, she knew he meant for her to fight.

  “You should know better than to ask me to escort you to Hades,” Hermes said. “It is not your time.” He took a deep breath. “Stay here. I’ll be back shortly for you.”

  “No, please. Please!” Hope stepped between Hermes and Xan. Staring up at her best friend, she whispered, “I don’t want you to go.”

  Xan leaned to the side and mouthed something at the god.

  Before Hope could ask, Hermes nodded, reached forward, and touched Xan’s shoulder.

  “Bloody Hades,” Xan said with a laugh.

  Hope gasped at the sound of his voice and then whipped around to Hermes, who shrugged and stepped several paces away to give them a semblance of privacy.

  Hope’s attention returned to Xan, and she reached out, wanting so much to make contact, but her hand still moved through Xan’s ghostly apparition.

  He smirked, and his dimple flashed. “Don’t be tryin’ to cop a feel now.”

  Hope blushed and then laughed. Tears still trickled down her cheeks. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “Hope.” Xan’s eyes filled with compassion, and he tried to wipe away her tears. “Aw, bells.” He chuckled. “You know I don’t want to leave you, luv. But this isn’t over. What you know, it’s bigger than you or me, or some stupid curse.” Calm assurance settled over him. “You need to find the Fates and figure out how to use those shears. You’re not done on Olympus, you hear?”

  She wanted to say she couldn’t. That she couldn’t do it without him, but his next words shamed her silent.

  “This isn’t over, Hope.” He studied her, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Your power is greater than any I’ve ever known. And not because you have more strength, more ability, or more intelligence. Your power is your determination, Hope. It’s your perseverance. I’ve always known you could do whatever you set your mind to. That is power no one can take away from you, so don’t you dare give up.” He brushed his hand over her hair and then her face, a gh
ostly sensation without actual contact. “I like you like this. It’s like how you should’ve been if Apollo hadn’t interfered in your life.”

  The depth of emotion Hope had hidden, even from herself, wouldn’t be contained, and she wasn’t surprised he could see it on her face. Feelings she’d worked so hard to bury broke through, and it made her heart hurt that she’d never told him how much he meant. She’d almost missed the opportunity. All because she’d lived in fear of the gods using anything they could against her. But, it shouldn’t have taken breaking the curse to tell Xan how much she cared. “I’ll miss you so much.”

  The words felt inadequate, but she wanted him to know it, needed him to hear it one more time.

  “Ah, lass. I’ll miss you, too. But I’ll find us houses right next to each other. When you and Athan come . . .” His hands hovered over her face then her shoulders. He leaned forward and gave her a ghostly kiss on the cheek. “I’ve always known you were filled with greatness. I love you.”

  Tears streamed down her face, and she choked out, “I love you, too.”

  Hermes took Xan’s arm. “Ready?”

  Xan raised his hand in a final farewell. “Aye.” His eyes lit with resolve, and he winked. “Don’t lose . . . Hope.”

  Both he and Hermes disappeared.

  The ache in Hope’s chest opened into a gaping chasm, and she collapsed to the ground and wept.

  Athan sat up with a gasp. The thin down-filled blanket fell into his lap, and he brought his hand to his chest where a dull ache throbbed. His heart raced like he’d had a nightmare, but he hadn’t been dreaming. The only light in his sparse room spilled in from the hall, and he wondered if the Fates were back. Perhaps they’d made a loud noise that had startled him from his sleep. But the house was quiet, so silent he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He shut his eyes as he took a deep breath and held it, but the anxiety continued coursing through him. He took another breath, let it out between pursed lips, and opened his eyes.

  His father stood in the doorway, lit from behind, face hidden in shadows. “The curse is broken,” Hermes said. “Zeus has ruled on it, and his decision is binding.”