“You will need these,” Deimos said condescendingly, indicating the weapons he carried, “if you want to kill anything, soul or god. And there is no guarantee that they will work in your hands, but it is better than going into battle against them virtually unarmed.” His comment garnered a snarl from Casey, which only fed Deimos’ arrogance. “It will not matter if they have been reanimated or not. In the right hands, these blades will smite them.”
“Then stop fucking talking about them and hand them out,” Casey growled, staring Deimos down as though he posed no threat to him. His fearlessness knew no end.
Perhaps it was foolishness instead.
Deimos cast a glance at Hades, who nodded once, his irritation with the situation still plain. Deimos then quickly dispersed his various daggers and swords to the brothers. He made quite a show of denying Oz a weapon.
I, too, was left empty-handed.
“Shall I use my bare hands to send them back?” I asked Hades, resentment bleeding into my tone.
“Deimos was told to scrounge up what he could find to equip your brothers with the necessary implements,” he said flatly. “That was part of my plan, which you find so objectionable. I said nothing of it earlier because I had hoped that Deimos would be able to discreetly take care of the situation, but it is now clear that it has escalated too quickly for even him to defuse it in a sufficient period of time. Bringing weapons to your brothers was Plan B.”
“It matters not. I will do my part without one.”
“You will go back to the Underworld and wait,” Hades said abruptly, looking off into the distance, his eyes trained on the sky. “I think you have done quite enough already.”
“Khara,” Pierson called, breaking the mounting tension between my father and me. “The body . . . where can I find it? I need to dispose of it.”
“I will take you there,” Drew replied, heading off in the direction we had come from earlier. Pierson gave me a tight nod and followed behind him, giving Deimos a wide berth.
“We should head out, too, Casey,” Kierson said, his mannerisms displaying his discomfort with the situation. “Maybe we’ll feel better after we get to kill some of these fuckers.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Casey drawled, his eyes slowly passing back and forth between Hades and his second in command. “You gonna be all right if we go, Khara?”
“She’s going to be just fine,” Oz answered, moving closer to me.
“I am always fine, Casey, or have you forgotten?”
“Right,” he sighed. “Try to keep the batshit under wraps while we’re gone.”
With that, he and Kierson started off, making their way back to the Suburban. Where they were headed, I did not know. But I hoped I would see them again. The pressure in my heart would not likely abate until I did.
As soon as they were out of sight, the infighting resumed.
“You, Dark One. You will take her back to the Underworld. Now!” Hades barked, the lines of stress deeply etched into his face. He looked older. Haggard. No longer the image of stateliness that I had always remembered. “And you, Khara. You will remain there and await my return. Once I am back, we will decide upon a punishment befitting of your crimes.”
Oz met Hades’ order with defiant silence. It was clear to me that he had no intention of doing as he was ordered.
“I will return her,” Deimos offered, an undeniable glint in his eyes as he spoke. His enthusiasm for the task did little to settle the mounting fear I felt in his presence. “I will keep her there until you return.”
“Not a fucking chance,” Oz growled. “She stays with me.”
“I need you here,” Hades told Deimos.
“He cannot be trusted with her,” Deimos argued, forgetting himself for a brief moment.
And that was when I saw it—the faintest flash of concern in Hades’ eyes. He did not want to send me back to the Underworld alone with Deimos. Oz’s plan had worked. As far as my well-being was concerned, there remained a seed of doubt in his mind regarding his next in command.
Knowing that also made another point clear: Hades had not written me off as entirely as I had presumed. He was angry, yes, furious even, but he had not cast me away from his heart. His doing so publicly was for show. Perhaps all of his misdirected rage was.
“Leave us,” Hades commanded. When neither Deimos nor Oz moved, Hades took me by the arm roughly and guided me down the street away from where the two dark and ominous warriors stood steadfastly. When he seemed satisfied that we were far enough away, he lightened his grip on my arm but continued walking briskly into the shadows cast by the vacant homes. “You must listen to me, my princess,” he said softly, looking over his shoulder toward the looming silhouettes of Oz and Deimos. “You must go. You are not safe here.”
“Will the Underworld be safer, given your absence?” I challenged. “Would I be safer in Deimos’ care?” His lips pressed together, forming a grim line of understanding on his face.
“What would you have me do, Khara? Leave you here defenseless? I failed you once. I will not fail you again.”
“You fail me only by your lack of confidence in me, Father. I am not defenseless. I can aid in this endeavor. You must let me show you what I have become.” My uncharacteristically pleading tone echoed softly around us as I argued my case. It was plain in his wizened eyes that he did not want to concede, but he knew that there was no other option. He would not send me back with Deimos, and he could not force me back with Oz, who was unwilling to return me. Whatever Oz’s plan was, it did not involve taking me back to the place where the Dark Ones had so easily found me.
“You possess Ares’ stubbornness,” he replied with the faintest of smiles. “It may be the only trait you inherited from him.”
“When all of this is over, you can tell me all about him, and I will determine if your assessment is valid. Until then . . .” I paused, looking away from Hades. My gaze fell in the direction of Oz and Deimos, who stood nearly nose to nose. A battle was brewing between them, and it was one that we could not afford. We needed them both if we were to succeed in our mission. Without thinking, I started down the road toward them. Just as I did, their collective attention snapped to me. Even in the darkness of night, I could see the shock on their faces; the two of them simultaneously charged down the road toward me.
But they did not make it that far.
Instead a blinding bolt of lightning shot past me, the heat of it searing the flesh of my arm through the fabric of my shirt. It landed directly between Oz and Deimos, the force of the blast knocking them both off their feet, separating them by several yards when they finally came back to the ground. Neither of them moved.
Panic. That is what I felt as my throat tightened and my heart raced. My mind reeled, indecision paralyzing me momentarily. I, too, did not move. Not until I heard a threatening voice call to Hades. It held too much power in it. Power it should not have.
I carefully turned to look over my shoulder, uncertain what awaited us. With my worst fears affirmed, I stared down the street in awe of the glowing form standing in front of Hades. In front of my protector. My father.
The mystery of Zeus’ whereabouts had been solved.
He was very much alive. Very much corporeal. And very much in full possession of his previous powers.
Powers he now aimed at my father.
32
Too many thoughts cluttered my mind at once.
The one that seemed most significant, however, was that Hades was in danger. So, without further analysis, I acted. I shouted his name while I hurried back to where he stood, glancing over my shoulder at the two bodies that remained behind us, still on the ground. They would be of no use in this fight.
Perhaps ever again.
“Father!” I called again as I watched Zeus loom above Hades ominously; he was the larger of the two brothers by a sizable margin. His aura of white became harsher to my eyes while I approached, and I sheltered them with my arm as best I could, all the while tr
ying to focus on the brewing standoff. Hades stood stoically before his brother. His bravery was noteworthy, but it was clear that, in a fight, he would be bested by his larger, stronger, and more powerful sibling.
Hades turned sympathetic eyes to me briefly before returning his hardening gaze to Zeus.
“I knew you would come,” he said, staring down his formidable brother.
“Good. I would not wish to hear you crying ambush before I choke the life from your body,” Zeus retorted haughtily.
“Is that what you think is going to happen, brother?” Hades asked. I came to stand beside my father, glaring at Zeus as though I had nothing to fear. But I knew otherwise. Both Hades’ and my lives depended precariously on Zeus’ actions, and judging by the look in that god’s eyes, he was out for blood. Blood that would easily spill. “What do you stand to gain in this, other than the revenge you clearly seek?”
Zeus scoffed arrogantly, as only one who had ruled the world at one time could.
“Everything.”
“And yet you will get nothing,” Hades retorted. Father did not falter under the threat of death. Instead, he expertly bluffed, conveying an air of confidence regarding his argued advantage in the situation. An advantage he did not possess. “You are a fool if you think otherwise. All you stand to accomplish here today, Zeus, is a more painful imprisonment than you were first subjected to. You have escaped this time. You will not again.”
“I will not need another chance,” he replied with unmistakable malice in his voice. He then turned that hatred toward me. “And you . . .” His voice trailed off while he organized his thoughts. It was clear that he had a point he wished to make, and he wished to make it with precision. “You provide me with a conundrum. I could use you, but your allegiance to this disgrace,” he said with disdain, indicating Hades, “presents a problem. The question is whether or not that hurdle can be overcome.” I stared at him silently. “If yes, then I shall have to rethink my initial plans. If no, I will go forward as I intended.”
His hazy, pale blue eyes bore into mine, looking for the answer he sought. The one I was unwilling to give. His whole being glowed more brilliantly as his irritation with my insubordination grew. It only fueled my silence.
“I see,” he drawled. The disappointment in his tone was plain. He had hoped to acquire me—to use me as a pawn in whatever maniacal plan he had concocted—though I did not know why or how. What I did know was that I had no intention of siding with him. Hades had indeed proven loyal to me, just as I had hoped he would be. I would not betray him.
“She will never choose you,” Hades said confidently. “She, unlike you, possesses a strong sense of family, which has only strengthened as of late.”
“Then she will die,” he said quietly, leaning in toward his brother conspiratorially.
“I would not count on that,” called a voice from far down the street, where Deimos and Oz had been incapacitated. Every hair on my body stood at attention at the sound of it.
“I wouldn’t either,” shouted another, more welcome voice.
I looked back to see Deimos and Oz rushing toward us. The vengeance in their eyes was evident in the darkness Deimos possessed and the glowing white of Oz’s form.
Zeus growled behind me, and I could see the light emanating from him more brightly. Suddenly, I was surrounded by it, a high and vast bubble of constantly moving lightning that caged Hades, Zeus, and me inside it. Oz and Deimos crashed into the protective electric field. Deimos dematerialized on contact, his body fading from solid form to a ghostly, immaterial presence in a split second. Then he disappeared entirely. Oz, however, did not. He stood steady, pressing against the flashing barrier, the pain it caused him evidenced by the grimace he wore.
But he pushed on regardless.
Thunder boomed around us as Zeus’ anger rose, the cacophony of it drowning out Oz’s cries. I could see Oz’s mouth moving—the muscles in his neck strained while he fought against the electrified wall—but I could not hear him. The only sensation I experienced was the thrum of electrical energy that passed along my skin while the lightning danced continually around us. I felt as though it was charging me, fueling my own anger.
“Tell me what you want,” I demanded. The quirk of Zeus’ brow demonstrated his intrigue. “You said that I may side with you. I want to know what is in it for me.”
Inside our flashing bubble, with thunder clapping loudly around us, Zeus roared with laughter. Hades, however, flinched at my words, though his reaction would have been imperceptible to anyone but me.
“I want to rule,” he said plainly, as though that answer was nothing short of obvious. “More specifically, I want to rule the Underworld, though my aspirations may become loftier over time. And you could help me.”
“How?”
“I have learned of what you can do. Do not think that the Oudeis is so estranged from the other fields. Well, it was . . . until you came along. Or, better yet, until you were ripped from the Underworld. There was a palpable shift in the air, you see. Things became rather interesting in your absence. And now, they prove even more interesting in your presence.” He leaned toward me conspiratorially. “I have you to thank for my freedom, do I not?” I met his question with my silence. “I wish to repay you for this courtesy you have done me.”
“You wish to control me,” I rebutted. The energy around me pricked my skin painfully.
“I will control all eventually. But you would be in a far more enviable position than others if you join me willingly.”
I stared at him, truly taking in his regal glory. But there was an edge to it—a madness—that simply could not be denied. I had no intention of becoming a tool for him to use, especially since I did not understand how he would use me. What I did know was that Oz had forewarned of this—that once word got out about my status as an anomaly, the greatest evils would seek to either wield or destroy me.
I would settle for neither.
“On that point, we shall have to agree to disagree,” I replied acerbically.
“Then you die,” he said suddenly, lifting his arm, which was ablaze with white-hot fire. Before I could react, he blasted me directly in the chest with a bolt of lightning, sending me hurtling through the air until his electrical cage abruptly stopped my flight, my back slamming painfully against it. The fiery blast ran through my body and caused indescribable pain. I convulsed violently, still pinned to the electric wall behind me by Zeus’ bolt. My screams nearly drowned out Hades’ wails. I fell limp to the ground, the smell of charred flesh offending my nostrils.
In my peripheral vision, I could see Oz thrashing against the charged bubble that enclosed me, his fists pounding it in futility. Painfully, I let my head loll to the side to see him. He stilled instantly. Through barely open eyes, I watched while he pressed his palm against Zeus’ cage of lightning. Had it not been there, he would have reached my face. That gesture was the last thing I saw before my vision doubled, then blurred, then blacked out entirely.
My heartbeat slowed.
I was dying.
For a moment, I could hear Hades’ distant voice, his cries signaling the bereavement he felt at the loss he was only moments away from suffering. Then everything fell silent. With my father’s sorrow no longer the melody signaling my end, I waited for death to take me in its arms and deliver me to my home.
But death eluded me.
My mind had been drifting off into a dark and inviting place when the implications of Hades’ silence jostled it into alertness. Hades would be the next to fall at the hands of his unstable sibling. That unacceptable fate was enough to pry me from the throes of death.
I would not fail my father again.
I had not realized that my breathing had stopped completely until my body, unwilling to march into death without a fight, shot up off the ground, gasping for air. Still in distress, I tried to focus my eyes on Hades, to see if Zeus had indeed killed him. He had not. Not yet. He was enjoying torturing him far too much to end it qu
ickly.
As my senses returned to me and my rage grew, I became acutely aware that I was glowing. Not a faint aura of leftover static. Not a dull haze surrounding me. I was as blinding as the bolt of lightning that Zeus had throttled me with. The thrumming sensation that coursed through my body felt foreign and uncomfortable, like it didn’t belong there. Like it was trying to escape.
Zeus had turned his back on me, presumably because he thought I was dead and no longer posed a threat. Struggling to stand as quietly as I could, I looked past Zeus to see my father’s eyes as he knelt before his brother. They were empty. Defeated.
My rage boiled over.
Zeus drew his arm back dramatically, and I watched as it started to glow more intensely, its incandescence increasing with every second until it was a blaze of white-blue fire and spark, waiting to escape its corporeal confines. Ready to deliver the killing blow, Zeus taunted Hades one last time.
“Any last words you’d like to share before I wipe both you and what is left of your pathetic army from existence?” he asked, raising his fiery blue arm to the sky.
It was then that Hades saw my approach, glancing past Zeus. At first, he looked as though he was seeing the impossible. I had seen that look before, on Oz’s face when he realized what I was. The impossible was not new to me.
I embodied it.
The demoralized expression on his face hardened into one of determination.
“The Underworld will never be yours,” Hades said calmly, his singed and broken body motionless but defiant. He would not show cowardice in the face of death—a trait that I had learned from him over the years.
“We shall see about that,” Zeus said coldly, leaning into his brother’s face. “Let it be known that the mighty Zeus has returned . . .”
“It will never be yours,” I heard a voice mutter, affirming Hades’ words. It was threateningly low and menacing. I did not recognize it at first, though I should have.
It was my own.
Zeus wheeled around to see me. The smile he had worn earlier when he blasted me to near death—the one that held the centuries’ worth of hatred, jealousy, and madness that consumed him—fell from his countenance. All that was left in its wake was disbelief.
Unseen Page 24