“Plan B, then,” I say.
“Which is?” Kato asks.
I grimace somewhat. “Chop off its heads?”
As if in response to that idea, one huge head disengages from the rest of the whirling, serpentine mass and lunges in our direction. Gargantuan jaws snap way too close for comfort.
Cursing under his breath, Griffin grips my hand and leads me thirty feet back. His glare seems to be some kind of silent, masculine command to stay put.
I glare back. “I’m not a bloody dog.”
“A dog would listen better,” he grates out.
“Five of us. A dozen heads.” Carver looks back and forth between the Hydra and us. “If we consider each head an enemy, we’ve fought our way out of worse odds than that.”
“Except each of those heads is the size of five men grouped together,” Kato says. “Or ten Cats.”
“I heard that,” I mutter indignantly. It doesn’t matter that it’s true.
“Let’s not get technical,” Carver says. “It’s bad for morale.”
“Four of us.” Griffin looks pointedly at me. “You have no magic left to fight with, at least not any magic you know how to control. You will not be foolish.” His deep voice resonates with that authoritative quality I find intriguing in a number of situations, particularly in the bedroom, but which lately, usually coupled with his nearly pathological overprotectiveness, I could do without.
“I have knives,” I counter. “And a sword. I’m not exactly useless.”
“If you throw any blades, do it from back here.” I open my mouth to argue, and Griffin’s eyes narrow. “We both know you’re not too far away to hit your mark.”
I close my mouth with a click.
“Kato, Flynn, take that side.” Griffin points to the left. “Carver, you’re with me. Cat, don’t move.”
They all charge at once, leaving me high up and alone on the spongy bank. I unhook my cloak, drop it, and then race toward the fray. Did Griffin honestly think I wouldn’t?
The fight is a blur, and not one of us even comes close to severing a Hydra neck. I dart away from sharp teeth and whipping heads, getting soaked by the waves the Hydra’s ferocious gyrating generates. Otherwise, I avoid Griffin. He’s spitting mad and won’t stop yelling at me.
Too focused on me, Griffin gets blindsided by a sweeping head. It smashes into his back and propels him into the water. He goes down face-first, and my heart stops dead in my chest. A wave crashes over him, and the strong backward pull drags him into the Hydra’s body.
I bolt forward. This is my fault. If I’d let him be effective in battle instead of worrying about me, he never would have left himself open.
The Hydra snaps and hisses, forcing us to scatter as Griffin staggers to his feet. His wet cloak tangles around him, hampering his movements. Terrified, I hold out my hands and aim my fear at the Hydra.
No lightning. Not even a tingle of power ripples down my arms. Only the pendant around my neck pulses with cold, as if reaching for my magic along with me.
Filling with dread, I watch the man I love dodge wide-open jaws. Hydra mouths smash into the lake, sending plumes of water jetting into the air. Currents churn around him, pushing and pulling. But Griffin’s agility is his own magic. With strength and coiled efficiency, he spins and brings his sword down hard on the closest neck, severing it.
The Hydra screams. All the mouths shriek at once, and the nightmarish sound echoes off the mountains.
The rising triumph in me crashes the instant two new appendages sprout from the severed stump. The fresh necks and heads grow fast. I blink, and they’re the size of me!
“New plan!” I shout. “Do not chop off its heads!”
Griffin struggles through chest-high water, swinging his sword defensively. When a full-sized head dives for him, I throw a knife and bury the blade between its eyes. The head jerks back and then falls, sloshing a wave up the shore that helps propel Griffin out of the water. While he’s scrambling up the soggy shelf, a set of teeth snags the bottom of his cloak, tearing it. A ball of fire erupts in the mouth, and the Hydra howls, plunging its head into the water.
Griffin races to my side. I throw every knife I have, felling heads until I’m out of blades. Flynn and Kato follow my lead and drop all but two of the remaining heads.
“I need more knives!” I cry.
“We’re out!” Kato yells back.
Griffin hands me his. “Only one.” Breathing hard, he slicks his dripping hair back from his face.
I take aim, throw, and hit my target. Only one head left.
Flynn gets ready to throw his ax, but the remaining Hydra head starts ruthlessly biting off its limp counterparts, severing its own necks so that two heads replace every one that was lost. Blood floods the lake. Within seconds, the monster mushrooms into a creature twice as deadly and terrifying as it was before.
“Retreat!” Griffin shouts.
I hesitate. Two severed heads with my knives in them lie just at the water’s edge. We’ll need those blades. I’m sure we will.
Ignoring Griffin’s panicked shout, I race for the weapons, rip one free, whirl around, and then grab the other.
Most of the newly matured heads lunge in my direction. My heart pounds frantically as I sprint back up the bank. A shelf of mud collapses under my feet, and I pitch forward, losing my knives in the muck. I reach for them, but a wave crashes over me, thumping me into the ground and then dragging me back. I claw at the bank, but it’s slippery and unstable. There’s nothing to hold on to. I slide toward the Hydra and the lake. Bone-deep terror hits me a second before razor-sharp teeth close around my upper arm and shoulder.
Searing pain brings my thoughts to a grinding halt. Griffin’s horrified yell slices through my shock, and his stricken face flashes through my field of vision as the Hydra whips me high into the air above the lake. The creature’s jaws clamp down, and my skin pops like a ripe olive. Blood gushes. Bones crunch.
Blazing heat explodes down my left side. Darkness pulses through my mind. The Hydra shakes me like a dog with a rope, and muscles tear. More bones snap. I don’t scream. I stiffen, trying to hold myself together as the Hydra shakes me apart.
The creature suddenly releases me mid-swing, hurling me toward dry land. My stomach spirals up my throat as ground and sky blur, tumbling over each other in a nauseating rush.
Impact knocks the air from my body. Stuns me completely. There’s a split second of all-consuming agony before I descend into the utter dark.
* * *
I awake disoriented, feeling outside of myself. Griffin is hovering over me with my head in his hands. His eyes are wild, his expression beyond horrified. He’s blank-faced with terror.
My eyebrows draw together. I don’t like seeing Griffin scared. It’s not normal.
A thunderclap of pain hits me, and I hiss. It rattles through every bone, every muscle, every inch of my skin. The Hydra attack comes rushing back. Everything throbs so horrifically that I know I’m shattered. There’s no way that I’m not.
Even short and shallow, my breathing sets my rib cage on fire. Jagged bones must scrape my lungs and probably other things inside me. Ribs. Broken. All of them? Left arm… I can’t even feel it. I’m terrified to look because it may not even be there. I try to move my legs. The right one does nothing, but the left one jerks up, jarring me with a whole new round of pain. The movement sets off a flare of heat inside me, and then an agonizing cramp tears through my lower abdomen. I let out a hoarse cry, and my right hand flies to my belly.
Griffin’s face goes bone-white. “Hang on, agapi mou. You have to hang on.”
“I’m sorry,” I gasp out. “I’m so sorry.”
“Stop.” It’s an order, Griffin’s unyielding voice the one that commands armies and wins wars. “You only apologize when you think you’re going to die.”
I shudder in agony. I am going to die. Doesn’t he know that?
I don’t want to leave Griffin so easily, so stupidly, but my eyes still close. I can’t keep them open.
I sense the others around me. I don’t want to leave them, either. Kato—my brother. Flynn. Carver. My family. But I’m being swept along. Pulled away. Something strong is beckoning me. Something nice.
A sharp sting hits my cheek. I open my eyes and meet Griffin’s. He slaps my other cheek. “Wake up! Stay awake.”
Something hot and thick fills my mouth. I gag and then cough, spraying blood onto Griffin’s chin. It’s bright red. No handy immortality there. I don’t see even a hint of the golden ichor hidden in my veins.
Griffin’s eyes turn frantic. “Say your chant. The one for the healing salamander.”
I can’t focus. The sky is spinning. “Need…running…water.” Need a real healer. Need my voice to keep working. Need help.
As gently as he can, Griffin picks me up and then lays me back down next to one of the streams feeding into the Hydra’s lake. He sticks my right hand directly into water that’s warm and stinks faintly of sulfur.
I start chanting. It takes a colossal effort to push the words out, breathe, and not choke on the blood in my mouth. The sounds are easy even if the spell is in the ancient language of the Gods, and Griffin starts saying the incantation along with me, learning it. The others are just shadows in my blurred vision, but I hear them, too, lending volume and clarity to my increasingly slurred words. Magic sparks inside me and my necklace flares to life, but it’s their voices that keep me going until the ten repetitions are done.
Griffin plunges his hand into the water. I close my eyes again. His voice fades, and whatever he was saying doesn’t make sense anymore. I drift on a dark haze. It sucks me down, down, coating me in a pain-numbing balm. I feel so much better here, but something still tells me I don’t want to go where it’s taking me. My lips part to call out for Griffin, but no words form, and no air crosses them again.
A murky, shadowed land rises up to meet me. Or maybe I rise out of it. I glance down. I’m upright, whole, and free of pain. I know what I’ve left behind, but the ache of loss is buffered and indistinct. I turn in a slow circle, gradually accepting what’s happened. I’m still me. I still love Griffin. Time is irrelevant. My thoughts adjust surprisingly fast, my new reality just a flip side of the old.
The trees around me are dark, the land gray, with only a few stumpy hills and rocky outcroppings to break up the colorless monotony. Dense fog swirls around my legs as I begin to walk in the direction calling to me, toward a wide, mist-shrouded river curving in a slow-moving buckle. On the far side of the water, the fog burns off and the silvery surface glints under a brilliant sky.
The opposite shore is breathtaking. I’ve never seen colors so vibrant, grass so thick, or trees so full and high. A golden pathway leads away from the river and into a lush valley that slopes downward and out of sight. The path is empty now, maybe a little lonely, but my feet long to walk it. It leads to all things better and bright.
Across the river, a boat slips into the sparkling water. I need it to carry me across because this side is dreadful. A clawing weight presses on my shoulders. Hopelessness leaves a sour taste in my mouth and coats me in misery. The air smells musty and stale, and tendrils of damp fog cling to my arms, making me shiver.
Unease ripples through me. I turn to see hunched figures emerging from the dark trees and ghastly mist. They shuffle toward me, their heads bowed, their hands held out to beg for an obol. Their despair is an actual stench, and I back toward the river, both crushed and overwhelmed by it.
More shapes uncurl from the gray landscape. As opposed to the first figures, these ones shake the coin they already have in anger and frustration, but the ferryman crossing the river ignores them. Malice radiates off their hollowed frames, some vibrations of cruelty fresher than others. As my steps instinctively draw me closer to the water, I understand their punishment. Everything becomes clear. An eternity here, or however long the ferryman deems necessary, to atone for evil deeds. With a sickening drop of my stomach, I realize I’m on the Plain of Asphodel.
Am I doomed to stay?
I turn back to the river, my heart clenching in fear. The boat makes not a whisper of sound as it plows through the drab reeds and then butts up against the dismal bank. Charon is bathed in night, wearing a somber cloak that floats around his gaunt body in the nonexistent breeze. His deep hood swallows his face, so I see nothing of his features. A long pole juts from the shallows, and he holds it at the top, primed to push off again. With me? Without me? Has my past doomed me to Asphodel?
The obol I always carry burns a hole in my pocket while I stare in fear and desperate longing at the silent, shrouded ferryman. After a long, terrifying wait, Charon lifts a skeletal hand and beckons.
A shaky sound leaks from my throat. But the chorus of wails that swells behind me taints my relief. I want to take the people without a coin with me. Surely I’ve done and caused things more hideous than they?
I look back at their outstretched hands and mournful faces. There are children. Why should I cross to the other side while they suffer along with the punished?
I reach for my coin, my heart heavy with the knowledge that I can’t help even one of them without condemning myself. But a power beyond my control doesn’t leave me the choice to sacrifice my obol, even if I could bring myself to give it up. My feet carry me toward the ferry, drawn inexorably.
The drooping figures and their sobbing fade, and as I walk, a girl crests the hill on the opposite side of the river. She emerges from between two soaring cypresses, hurrying along the golden path. She’s small and lithe, her long blonde hair shining like the morning sun.
My breath hitches, and I start to run, holding Charon’s payment tightly in my hand. It strikes me as odd considering I’ve only just arrived, but I want her and that golden path more than anything I’ve left behind, even Griffin. He’ll get here eventually. We’ll be together again. I’ll just wait for him, as long as it takes.
I race through the mist, wondering if this is Hades’s gift to the people who pass into his land—to make them yearn for their dead more than they ache for the living.
Across the river, Eleni holds up a staying hand. “Eat,” she calls.
Slowing, I look around. There’s no food here. Only fog and shadow and the promise of something better on the other side.
I suddenly ache all over. My steps falter, and the vapor creeping around my legs starts to feel like a tangle of giant spiderwebs, holding me back, weighing me down.
“Eleni!” I shout, alarmed.
“Eat!” she yells back. The panic and sternness in her tone shake me to my core. Her voice… It’s not quite hers. It’s deep and fierce. It reminds me of—
My eyes prick with tears. I don’t understand. I scream my sister’s name again, but she waves me away. She doesn’t want me.
Charon lowers his hand. He pushes on the pole, and his boat slips backward through the mist.
“No! Don’t leave me!” I struggle to get him the obol, to reach the shore, but I can’t move. Oh my Gods, what’s happening! “Eleni!”
“Eat!” she screams from across the water, her voice overlapped by a terrified, masculine roar.
Pain lances through me. Breath stabs my lungs. I open my eyes and gasp.
Griffin! My heart explodes as thoroughly as my body, agonizing, inside and out.
“Yes! That’s it!” Griffin pries open my jaws and then stuffs something into my mouth. “Eat! Damn it!”
He forces my mouth closed and then holds his hand over it, sealing it shut. My eyes widen and my nostrils flare, drawing in short, panicked, painful puffs of air. The salamander is smooth and slimy and tastes of sulfur and mud. Tiny claws scrape my tongue. A flat tail whips the roof of my mouth.
I gag, wrenching my
destroyed body, but then nature forces me to swallow, and the creature and its magic slip down my throat.
Increased consciousness slams into me almost immediately along with the painful throbbing of broken bones. My vision darkens from the sheer force of it.
“Cat?” Griffin leans over me, his expression filled with petrified hope. His gray eyes start to glisten.
Magical warmth coils through my middle, and suddenly I can breathe again without wanting to crawl into a hole and die. “I’m here,” I croak.
He exhales slowly, unsteadily, his eyes swimming now. “I got you back.”
He saved me. He stole me from Death. “Need more,” I say.
“Then start chanting,” he replies gruffly, blinking hard.
From the side, Kato shouts, “I did it! I made one!” I hear a splash and turn my head enough to see him pull a bright yellow salamander from the stream. How did that happen?
“Open,” Griffin orders, pinching my jaw.
Kato stuffs the creature into my mouth, and then Griffin pushes my jaw closed.
My eyes water. It takes some gearing up and a few tries before I manage to swallow. After I do, I start feeling my left arm again. It’s still there, thank the Gods.
“Carver? Flynn? Anything?” Griffin asks.
They both answer in the negative.
“Kato. Again.” Griffin moves his hand so that it hovers over the water. “Cat, go.”
Kato and I start chanting. My second salamander is brown, like always, while Kato’s is bright yellow again. I force them both down, and the pain inside me lessens. Kato’s has more impact. The shock begins to wear off. I start to warm up and shake less. It takes two more of the magical creatures and a concentrated effort not to throw up for my leg to begin healing, and before that, Griffin has to hold me down while Flynn sets the bone. Not even a great healer can fuse a bone back together without at least pointing it in the right direction first. Sticking up through my thigh was definitely not the right direction, and the sight of the jagged, bloodstained bone turned my stomach worse than the salamanders did.
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