by Lizzy Ford
Kyros was at the back door of the destroyed mansion, his arms filled with linens. He looked up when I called him and then smiled before starting towards the tree house. Flinging the linens over one shoulder, he scaled the ladder with ease and entered the space that had not seemed quite so confined when I was alone in it. He hunched over to prevent his head from hitting the roof and jostled past me before he sat.
“Sorry.”
I moved over to give him more room. The difference in our sizes was more pronounced in the tree house. His feet were going to stick out the door when he lay down, while I was perfectly comfortable with extra space for my limbs.
“I couldn’t find any blankets, but these towels were sitting on the dryer. It was the only thing in the house not completely destroyed.” He handed me a thick, plush towel. “These are nicer than blankets anyway. Nothing like what I had growing up.”
I was accustomed to the best of everything. I had never had a reason to believe towels came in different qualities from which I was used to. I rolled the towel up and placed it on the floor of the tree house then stretched out onto my back.
Never did I imagine sleeping on the floor would feel this good. I released a deep sigh. My bruised body relaxed of its own accord, as if it, too, needed a break after the stressful night.
“Thank you for stopping,” Kyros said and stretched out beside me. “We were starting to feel sick.”
What were you doing with your life when Paeon possessed you? I asked.
“Working in a town where everyone was trying to cooperate to survive. I was on the hunting and chopping wood teams and basically any task needing brute strength. I was a terrible hunter, though. Killing animals isn’t really my thing, which is probably one of the reasons Paeon and I get along so well,” he replied.
Every time he said Paeon’s name, I wanted to snap at him. But I didn’t, and I managed to listen without criticizing their relationship. It was a first for me, and it was difficult.
“Why do you hate him so much?” There was a smile in Kyros’ voice.
Because his kind are selfish.
“You said you were cursed. It seems more personal.”
I rolled onto my side, placing my back to him and effectively ending the conversation.
“Okay then. Sleep well.”
I stared into the darkness. Of all the thoughts running through my mind, the one concerning me most had nothing to do with making it back to camp and everything to do with the idea I almost hoped Paeon wasn’t like the rest of the gods. That maybe, being a healer rendered him more compassionate, less likely to play games or possibly, gave him the ability to sympathize with others instead of using them and cursing them as the rest of the gods did.
Was it Paeon I wanted to be different, or Kyros? Or … the combination? Dealing with Kyros was sometimes maddening, until I recalled he was the kind of person I was supposed to be protecting with a war I couldn’t get off the ground. It didn’t seem right to despise humanity and protect its members at the same time. This was a very gods-like attitude to have. My problem wasn’t Kyros as much as his nonchalant attitude towards being possessed and allowing a god to do as he pleased with a human host.
This was a personal war, one I was waging for the hundreds of members of the Bloodline preceding me as well as for the humans who didn’t understand how dangerous the gods were.
Kyros … well, he complicated the black and white view I had developed towards what I was doing and why, and I didn’t like the challenge to my principals he represented.
Closing my eyes, I started to drift to sleep. I was jarred out of my doze by the sudden sense of being back in the truck, and rolling over and over and over and over …
I snapped awake and recalled where I was. Relaxing, I tried again to fall asleep.
Fiery adrenaline raced through me, as if my system were reliving the explosion. I became fevered and agitated, caught in the state between sleep and consciousness. The sound of something ripping nudged me farther away from slumber. It was followed by a strange physical sensation in my shoulders. They were … pulling out of my body. The explosion was tearing me apart …
“Um, Phoibe?” Kyros’ voice reached me across the darkness of my mind. “I mean, Your Majesty?”
His scent was strong in my nostrils: sweat, human and rain. My skin became sensitive and the brush of the towel against my cheek felt like fire and sandpaper. I wrestled with myself, unable to awaken fully and reassure my flighty mind that I wasn’t burning in the explosion.
“I think you need to wake up,” Kyros said.
He burst into full color and clarity in my mind, which would not have been surprising, if my eyes hadn’t been closed. I could see everything painted on the back of my eyelids, clear as midday. The edge of fatigue in his voice was joined by alarm. I heard and saw him shift closer, reaching out to shake me awake with an expression bordering on baffled.
My eyes snapped open, and I stared up at the ceiling of the tree house. I saw every splinter, every piece of dust, and every minute detail of the wood two meters above me. The summer breeze against my skin made me jerk in unexpected awareness. My body contorted in an uncontrollable spasm. I was being torn apart from the inside and healed so quickly, I had no idea which sensation I felt: fire or coldness.
At last, the episode passed, and my body ceased bucking – but I didn’t feel remotely normal. The sound of leaves brushing against one another outside the tree house was nearly a shout in my ears, and my sense of smell was so intense, I wriggled my nose to prevent a sneeze that was forming.
What’s happening to me? I asked Kyros, twisting to see his face.
He had moved across the tree house from me. “Um. It’s kind of hard to explain,” he said after a pause.
I struggled to sit up, weighed down by what felt like a heavy blanket around my shoulders. Something whacked Kyros in the leg as I moved, and I froze.
My skin was gray. My nails had turned into claws. I touched my face and uttered a broken sound. My features were lopsided, and my hair was gone. Shifting forward, I started to fall backward before the long, thick cord of my tail balanced me. Wings flared out on either side of my body, smacking Kyros again. My shredded clothing was at my feet.
What did you do to me? I demanded, rounding on him.
“This isn’t us,” he said quickly.
No one else has been near me! What did you do?
“We can’t turn you into anything else, and if we could, it wouldn’t be a gargoyle.”
Gargoyle. A vision of the creature that visited me when I was six flashed into my mind. He, too, had possessed wings, gray skin, a tail … and resembled one of the grotesques perched on the corners of temples in New York.
He had warned me of the Bloodline’s curse.
Had he been talking about this? Would I turn to stone this night? What would happen to my daughters?
I’m a monster! I shrieked in silence.
“It’s not that bad.”
How can you say that?
Kyros cleared his throat. “Paeon needs to talk to you.”
I didn’t answer and stared at my talons, struggling not to panic. If I were a monster, were the twins in my stomach also monsters? What had happened? More importantly, why?
“Hear me out.” Paeon’s voice was lighter, less emotional than Kyros.
Too shocked to know what else to do, I waited and grappled with my self-control before I completely lost it.
“Nothing is wrong with you,” the god claimed.
My jaw dropped, and another strange, beastly sound came out.
“The Bloodline members are all like you.”
Cursed by the gods! Tears filled my eyes. I managed to stand despite the awkward weight of wings. My tail acted to balance me out of instinct when I felt like I was about to fall.
“It’s not what you think.”
I felt suddenly claustrophobic in the tiny tree house, overpowered by the details and scents and trapped with one of the gods I hated wi
th all my soul. Staggering to the door, I grabbed the doorframe and tried to turn. One wing made it out while the other flared behind me, knocking me off balance. I tumbled out of the tree house.
My wings stopped my fall in mid air. They stretched out on either side of me, flapping to keep me aloft with no conscious thought from me. I hovered in the air outside the tree house, not liking the sense of having nothing solid to stand on.
I wanted to cry, to scream, to tear Paeon apart with my claws and the fangs resting on my lips. If the tree house overwhelmed me, the night was much more unnerving. My senses were a hundred times more active and sensitive, registering the smallest movement and sound for hundreds of yards in each direction.
I tossed my head back to stare at the sky. If ever I needed my patron goddess, Artemis, it was now.
What’s happening to me? I screamed telepathically into the night.
Chapter Eleven: Alessandra
“You’re slow today. You don’t look sick.”
Gods, Niko was driving me crazy. He was as unrelenting as usual. After two nights with less than three hours of sleep each night, I was in no shape to handle him in the ring or out. Light headed, and panting after ten minutes of sparring, I leaned against the ropes of the boxing ring.
I didn’t answer him. My mood was fickle, and I didn’t want to tell him to join Cerberus in Hades and earn myself a punch or two. The ever-present, three headed dog monster had become my only companion. He didn’t need sleep either, and he sat or paced or stood behind the curtain separating my world from that of Hades. All. Day. Long. I had never had a pet in the forest, but I did now. I didn’t have to worry about feeding or walking him, which was nice.
“What’s wrong with you?” Niko yanked my chin up while dragging me from my thoughts again. He studied my face.
“Nothing!” I tried to pull away.
He ignored me. “You’re weak, too. Are you sleeping?”
I sighed.
“So you’re not.” he grumbled and released me, stepping away.
“I’m having issues,” I replied and straightened.
“What issues?” he retorted. “Villa doesn’t have enough servants or shoes for you?”
“You have no idea what I’m going through!” Anger flared within me, warming my blood and clearing my mind temporarily.
“C’mon.” He motioned me forward. “Hit me if you can. It’ll help.”
“You’re my therapist now?”
“I don’t give a shit how you feel, kid, but you gotta be physically ready to deal with the world, and you aren’t.”
I was agitated enough at him to give him a good thirty minutes of sparring before I ran out of energy again. Taking a break in my corner, I sipped water and studied him. He was … Niko. Regular, irritable, quick-to-snap Niko.
We hadn’t sparred yesterday, because he was hunting insurgents. I had dreaded our session today, certain he would beat me to a pulp for my involuntary involvement in helping Cleon disable Theodocia. Forty minutes into our hour session, he hadn’t dropped the hammer, and I was getting edgy.
“You’re not mad at me?” I asked him at last.
“You’d know if I were.”
“Do you even know what I’m talking about?”
“It’s likely I won’t care.”
“Theodocia.”
He glanced up. “What about her?” His tone remained the same, but I sensed it took effort.
“I put her into this frozen-rubbery state of immobility,” I said. “She’s a gummy statue.”
One eyebrow lifted.
He doesn’t know. Whether this was Cleon’s assertion or my realization, I couldn’t tell.
I had Niko’s attention, which was not always a good thing. He lowered his water bottle and approached, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
I knew he loved her still. Another thought that was both Cleon’s and mine. If he hits you, he hits me. Do not let that happen. This was distinctly Cleon’s order. I shared his concern. I didn’t really have the intention of getting my ass beat by a pissed Niko, who was just as likely to cause permanent damage as not, if he were pushed to the point where he stopped checking his blows.
“This is your fault!” I snapped at the unwelcome voice in my head.
“What’s my fault?” Niko asked.
“Not you,” I replied. “Maybe you should talk to Cleon about this.”
“You can tell me. Or I can make you tell me.”
Before Niko, I never would’ve folded to such a threat. Herakles had instructed me how to fight. The one lesson he neglected: how to deal with someone who was so much stronger than me, I didn’t stand a chance. Herakles was cut from the same mold as Niko, but he was gentle and patient, whereas Niko didn’t care at all for my mental or physical welfare, beyond what he was paid to care about. Even the butcher Adonis had acted with restraint when it came to me.
“Cleon sent you out to catch the Silent Queen. While you were outside the wall, he ambushed Theodocia,” I replied. The images in my mind were Cleon’s, and I began to think there was a small benefit to being connected with him. If he knew what I did, then wouldn’t I understand when he was lying from here on out? “He was going to kill her, but I turned her into a gummy statue instead.”
Emotion disappeared from Niko’s features. He stood absolutely still for a moment. I shifted my weight, uncertain if he were going to walk away or attack.
“She’s the leader of the insurgency. He was doing what he had to,” he said after a tense pause.
“Is that what you’ll tell Tommy, when Cleon kills his mother?” I said.
The words were out of my mouth before I realized how stupid they were.
I said NOT to get punched, Cleon snapped.
I was halfway out of the ring, unwilling to face Niko after his initial threat about his son.
Not only did the former mercenary not attack, but he didn’t emote, either. He was watching me, as if trying to decide whether or not I was telling the truth or maybe, what to do with me.
“Two o’clock tomorrow. If you aren’t up to your usual activity level, it will not go well for you,” he said. Spinning, he snatched his towel and left the ring.
I released the breath I was holding.
That went well, Cleon said.
“No, it didn’t,” I replied. “If he’s too angry to blow up, someone is in trouble.”
You doubt his loyalty.
“Never,” I said, thoughts on Niko’s son. I had nothing to offer him in exchange for his loyalty whereas Cleon held the upper hand. The compound was the safest place on Earth, and Tommy was in the middle of it.
What that meant for Theodocia, I was afraid to imagine. I could see Niko leaving her where she was for the time being – or maybe forever. Cleon didn’t want her dead, so she was, in a twisted way, safe. Maybe having her close was doing Niko an indirect favor, since she wouldn’t be in harm’s way on the streets while Cleon quelled the rebellion.
Was this my reasoning or Cleon’s? The Supreme Magistrate did nothing out of good faith or benevolence, and I doubted Theodocia was safe when she was anywhere near him.
Fear caused my heartbeat to accelerate.
For the first time, I couldn’t identify whose rationale it was. I was no closer to dislodging Cleon from my mind. If anything, he was becoming more entrenched. My thoughts were an open book to him, and his were becoming indistinguishable from mine.
“Cleon wants to see you. Now.” Niko poked his head in from the locker room, cell phone in hand.
On cue, my escort filed in from outside the gym. I slung my towel around my neck and grabbed my water bottle before reluctantly trailing the armed guards out of the gym and to the House.
We met in Cleon’s office again, on the second floor. Instead of sitting behind his desk, he was seated with a tumbler of cognac at the sitting area of his office, beneath a portrait that made me roll my eyes.
“I take it that’s new,” I said and shook my head. In the fashion of royal portraiture, Cle
on had been painted solo, standing, and wearing a military uniform filled with medals. “Were you even in the army?”
“I’m the Commander-in-Chief of the military and SISA,” he replied. His words ricocheted in my head, and I dropped my gaze to him. “Sit.”
I did so and watched him pour more amber liquid into his glass tumbler. Tilting my head to the side, I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.
“You have a headache,” I said, able to feel what he did, now that we were a meter apart. “You’re weak. Dizzy, and the back of –”
“Enough.”
“Side effects of this joining?” I asked allowed, echoing his thoughts.
“Dr. Khan assures me I’m well,” he replied.
“But you don’t believe her.”
“I wanted to discuss something important,” he said, ignoring me.
“I can’t imagine what.”
He gave me one of his looks that said he was trying to be patient, while he ordered me silent with his thoughts. “I wanted you to know why I’m doing what I’m doing.”
“I do know,” I replied. “You want to take over the world.”
“That’s sort of a side benefit,” he said with a smile. “There’s much more to it. I’m saving those who deserve it from a larger threat.”
What in Hades was he talking about? I knew him to be a little crazy but this assertion sounded outlandish, even for him. His mind was silent on what he meant, giving me hope we weren’t fully integrated into each other’s consciousness yet.
“Many years ago, I was granted an audience with the Oracle, as many wealthy and influential people are,” he began. “I don’t know what most people ask her. Maybe about their fates or fortunes, but I asked her something different. I’ve always wanted more. More power, more money, and specifically, more knowledge I could use in my pursuit of power.”
Cleon’s soft, low voice and deceptively non-threatening manner had always deflated my anger and irritation, whether or not I wanted it to. I relaxed back into the plush, leather chair. I had no intention of believing a word he said, but I studied him, seeking some sort of weakness or tell or other red flag I could use to dismantle what he had done to me and what he was planning to do.