by Kristen Day
The next time my eyes opened, I was submerged in a copper claw foot tub in a bathroom fit for royalty. The copper plated ceiling led down to creamy, fabric-lined walls that shimmered with silk threading. My big toe found the other end of the tub as I stretched my legs out lazily. I jumped when Avery's healing hands ran along my collarbone, and I was suddenly acutely aware of my extremely naked body.
"Well...this is awkward," I snickered. Her light blue eyes met mine and she smiled just as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
"All of the water running into the castle comes from the lagoon," she educated me softly. "So it shouldn't be long until you're completely back to normal. All of your wounds are healed except for...this."
She grazed the brand on my arm with her fingertips and I peered down to see the extent of the travesty Selene had gifted me. The gnarly skin surrounding the symbol was raised with a pinkish hue, but it didn't compare to the burnt, charred skin I had seen earlier today. It was most definitely an improvement, but it still taunted me. Just like Selene.
"Excellent," I muttered. "I've always wanted to look like a branded cow."
"How's she doing?" Sebastian's worried voice sounded from behind the closed door of the bathroom.
"Almost done!" Avery called over her shoulder, then grabbed a towel and held it up for me "Up you go."
"Yes, mother," I joked, but pulled myself up and out of the tub. Avery's touch was only a prelude to the heavenly feel of the towel she wrapped around me. It felt like pure sheepskin, and I couldn't put it past Maera to have towels made of livestock or for that matter, precious metals. "I don't suppose they have any thongs lying around the castle?"
"I'm pretty sure they brought all of your clothes here from the tree house, princess." Avery rolled her eyes at me as we padded out of the bathroom. Upgrading from a treehouse to a castle was just the kind of news I needed after making nice with an entire forest of trees over the last couple of days. The risk of the castle falling on top of me or tossing me to the ground should be pretty low. Not impossible, but pretty low.
"Good, 'cause if I had white granny panties waiting for me, I was definitely going commando."
A soda can slipped out of Sebastian's hand and landed on the floor as he spun around and stared at me with indecent fascination. Always quick to recover, he left it puddling on the wood floor and took a stack of clothes from the bed before handing them to me with a smirk and a raised blond eyebrow.
"Clothes aren't mandatory, but just in case..."
"Don't get your hopes up," I teased him, and disappeared back into the bathroom to change into a less than flattering white cotton nightgown. So much for sexy. Thankfully my own underwear had made the trip, which made up for the tablecloth currently hanging from my shoulders. I could tell a tremendous difference in my energy level but was still aggravated about the symbol etched into my arm. I frowned at it in the mirror.
"'Night, Olivia!" Avery called out before the click of a door assured her exit. I peeked out at Sebastian and hoped he had a thing for turn-of-the-century, floor length frocks. Something told me no male in the history of humankind could find the mockery I was wearing sexy.
"So this is where you've been staying?" I deflected before walking into the room in all my puritan splendor.
"It's no Grecian cathedral." He shrugged with a sly grin as he turned down the covers of the elegant four poster bed. "But I suppose it'll do."
I gathered my damp hair into a halfhearted bun and practically did a swan dive into the glorious bed that promised blissful sleep. Sebastian fluffed the pillows, kissed my forehead, and to my surprise, headed for the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" I sat up.
"You need sleep. If I stay with you, you won't be able to keep your hands off of me." I didn't miss the grand smile that accompanied his words. "I don't want to be a distraction."
"Says the guy who's allergic to shirts," I eyed his bare chest and elaborate armored trace that had made an appearance. "Besides, don't flatter yourself." I rolled my eyes. "You haven't been able to take your eyes off of my sexy lingerie since I put it on." I pulled up the hem of the nightgown with a come hither look, revealing a bare ankle.
"You're right," he laughed. "I'm a sucker for full body nightgowns."
The strong need to simply be held overwhelmed me and at that moment, I would have done anything to keep him there with me. Almost being killed and then getting kidnapped could do that to a girl.
"I want you to stay with me," I disclosed earnestly. "I need you to stay with me."
The words barely passed my lips before he was in the bed, pulling off his pants. White boxer shorts with tiny horses all over them was the result. The adorable level of his boxers, coupled with the chiseled muscles of his torso was enough to take my breath away. Oblivious to the reaction he elicited from my body, he casually pressed a button on the wall that lowered the lights and slid into the sheets next to me.
I folded into his arms as if I had never left them and nuzzled even closer. I inhaled his scent with pleasure, sending a ferocious shiver down my spine.
"Are you cold?" The tenor of his voice echoed throughout his chest, throwing yet another shiver through me.
"No," I mumbled against the crook of his neck before peeking up at him sleepily. His amused grin felt like a dream before his head bent down towards mine. At the sensual touch of his warm lips, my body responded on impulse and I cupped the back of his neck, pulling his mouth even closer. My other hand found his arm and I felt the muscles beneath contract as he clung to me. A hand gathered up my nightgown, finding its way up my leg and squeezing my hip as he pulled me towards him.
"You need your sleep," his voice murmured unconvincingly.
"Tell my body that," I groaned into his mouth; eliciting a light chuckle from him. His lips lingered on mine as he fought with himself to pull away. Eventually, he broke our kiss and brushed the loose hair from my face. I tucked my head into the dip of his shoulder and listened to his pulse as I waited for the heat coursing through every cell of my body to cool.
"And don't forget, you're telling Stasia tomorrow or I'll do it for you," I threatened him, sluggishly fighting back a yawn.
"Tomorrow..." he promised in a hoarse whisper. Reality and dreams merged together as I fell asleep to the mesmerizing thudding of his heart and the sensation of his warm palm massaging my back.
FINN
"I should have known something like this would happen."
"Mom, there's no way you could have known this would happen. You couldn't have done anything to prevent it anyway," I reassured her carefully. "Besides, Hecate should have done something. She still could. But she hasn't. And this isn't the first time."
"Not the first," she mumbled with a frown. I hated seeing my mom upset. It happened so rarely, but when it did, I wanted to do anything to bring her smile back. She shook her head and closed the book with contempt. At first I was overjoyed to have the Book of Souls and Key of Tribeca back, but then Mom made the mistake of flipping through and discovering almost one hundred names of witches who had died in the last five months. She began reading each and every name until I stopped her. Speaking their names would not undo what had been done. Seeking retribution for their deaths might not either, but it was exactly what I wanted. Selene deserved to burn in the darkest depths of Tartarus for all of eternity, and I intended to do everything I could to make that happen. Ian finally waltzed into the room after ensuring Phoebe was okay.
"I'm here," he announced grandly.
"Fantastic," Ricker muttered sarcastically; giving Ian a reason to punch him playfully.
I glanced at Mom, who was still deep in thought; her blue eyes laden with mourning. I gathered her into a hug and kissed her on the cheek.
"Finn." Mom eyed the Book I held in my hands. "Leave the Book here."
"Mom, it needs to go back where it'll be secur-" I started to argue...unsuccessfully.
"Finnegan."
My stubbornness collided with her s
tern gaze and my heart collapsed at the despair I found there. I couldn't risk the book being stolen once again, but I also knew how to pick my fights. And if keeping the Book on Atlantis would ease my Mom's pain, then it would stay. I handed it to Ian, who left once more to deliver it back to Maera for safe keeping.
We were on our way to the Underworld to return the items Olivia brought back with her, do a little research on the witches, and get Father's thoughts on Liam. I still found it hard to believe my best friend was capable of such betrayal.
"We're meeting your father at the Edifice," Natasha briefed me, her eyes growing misty despite her best efforts to hide her emotions. I considered how I would feel if one hundred sons had suddenly died with little or no explanation. The torment of knowing their blood was on my hands would be debilitating, but I was their Leader. Mom was only a descendant. It was a little different.
"It's going to be okay, Mom." I placed my hands on her shoulders lovingly.
"You're a bad liar." She ventured a smile and pinched my cheek. I wiggled out of her grasp and hugged her again.
"Let's do this." Ian jogged back into the room with anticipation and then plopped down next to Ricker on the couch, who flicked his ear for good measure. Before they could regress back to third grade wet-willies, I pulled Mom toward them so we could leave.
"Remember," she said, and then eyed Ian and Ricker meaningfully, "Your Sons' essence only goes so far. Your souls will only have about an hour."
"Who's going to stay back and watch our bodies?" Ricker grinned wickedly. "They might get taken advantage of."
"That's what I was hoping for." Ian elbowed him with a snicker right before I smacked him on the back of the head. Mom ignored them and closed her eyes. The room around us began to blur and I felt the telltale pressure squeezing my essence as we filtrated from one realm to another.
The ground beneath my feet hardened into unyielding granite and my entire body relaxed with the powerful welcoming of the birthplace of my essence - the Underworld.
"Whoa," Ricker choked on his own words as he got his first glimpse of the Underworld. Ian's eyes expanded into saucers and they darted back and forth, selfishly soaking in our surroundings. We were standing on a scraggly stone overhang, hundreds of feet above the trees below. My father's home was perched upon a single slab of granite, deemed the Edifice, which stretched higher than any other point in the Underworld. It was only wide enough for the house itself and sat precariously between several mountains full of beasts that could be heard, but never seen.
To our right were sprawling metallic forests, while to the left, the pulsing glow of the river of fire as it meandered around Tartarus. Straight ahead was my father's lake, as well as Persephone's groves far in the distance. It was hands down one of my favorite places in the Underworld.
"I see you've brought quite a motley crew along this time," my father's voice wisecracked behind us. His thunderous voice could be felt in the bottom depths of one's soul and I had long wished my voice had the same effect. Mom attempted in vain to make me feel better by assuring me I simply took after her, which did absolutely nothing to comfort me.
We all turned in time to see him envelop my mother's slight figure in his arms with pure devotion and love. His darkness softened tremendously as he held her and my heart soared to see them together. It was something I never tired of. She was only allowed admittance to the Underworld five times a year; all granted by Persephone for the very purpose of spending time with Father.
The fact that she used one at my request reminded me just how lucky I was to have her. I knew she would do anything for me without a second thought, and I took great care to never take advantage of her giving nature. They exchanged several words that we couldn't hear and I watched him frown in response. Once he sufficiently showered her with kisses and a smothering array of hugs, Father turned his attention to me. The unruly mop of white hair and full beard shone brightly amidst the gleaming metallic hues of the Underworld, and his startling blue eyes sparkled as he took me in with a proud smile.
"Finnegan," he boomed with open arms, welcoming me in a bear hug that almost crushed my ribs.
"Father," I acknowledged as I embraced him. He kept an arm around my shoulders and diverted his gaze to Ian and Ricker, who were currently having trouble speaking. Their freakishly wide eyes jumped from the house, to Father, and back to the house again.
"Are they mute?" Father whispered jokingly to me.
"I wish," I chuckled.
"Ricker, Ian." Father walked toward them, wrapped a strong hand around the back of both of their necks, and yanked them in for a joint hug whether they liked it or not.
"It's an honor to see you again, sir," Ian finally managed from Father's armpit.
"Come," he insisted. "Let's move this gathering inside."
My field of vision was immediately engulfed by the magnificence of my father's home, which never ceased to amaze me. Everything about it oozed...Charon. Standing five stories tall with geometric architecture, it was, in itself, a striking mirage. The whole of its exterior was constructed with colossal mirrors. With only the reflection of our vast surroundings seen on its walls, the corners of the house were its only discernable features. Across its roof spread the sky above, while the soaring mountains continued uninterrupted across its sides. From a distance it was completely invisible, reflecting and blending into the landscape regardless of the person's viewpoint.
In contrast, when seen up close you could pick out the lines of the frame and - more telling - see yourself as you walked up towards the equally invisible door. Once inside, the walls that were mirrors on the outside acted as windows from the inside, boasting panoramic views from every spot of its five stories.
We filed through the mirrored front door and entered the opulence of the main room. Its masculine decor was complete with clean lines and geometric shapes in every corner. We followed father to its center, where a sunken circular couch enclosed a fire pit. A mirrored round chimney hung down from the cathedral ceiling, hovering directly over the fire pit to allow an exit for the potent fumes. The circular couch easily held all five of us as we eased onto the cushions and Father flicked a finger, casually igniting the fire pit.
"So tell me, my Sons," he began regally. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"
"We brought this." I handed him the black slab of onyx; the Key of Tribeca.
"Of course you did." He smiled nonchalantly and held up the Key to inspect it. "I had no doubt you would be successful." I exchanged a pensive glance with Ricker, failing to disclose the fact that we hadn't actually found it. Selene let us off the hook by giving it back. As he turned it over in his seasoned hands, it suddenly clouded over and became completely transparent. He set it down and I watched in awe as it morphed once again to solid black.
"We also have the Book of Souls, but it's still on Atlantis."
"At my request," Mom assured him, a hidden meaning simmering just below the surface. He asked no questions; trusting her fully and waiting patiently for her to continue. "It has come to my attention there have been hundreds of witches who've died recently." He took her hand as she spoke, solemn understanding passing between their gazes.
"I've escorted only twelve in recent months. Seven of natural causes. Five were not," he explained plainly. Death was not taboo down here, nor did it elicit sorrow. It was simply a numbers game to Father; his occupation.
"The names were listed in the Book, and we have reason to believe they are being manipulated by Selene."
"Listed, or scripted?" Father asked with a furrowed brow.
"Listed," she clarified.
"So they're ghosts," I continued. "But we don't know how Selene has obtained power over them."
"She couldn't." He shook his head. "That is simply not possible."
"Then how...?" Ricker began.
"With the Reaper in Tartarus," Father's mention of Nadia hardened every muscle in my body with rage, "Persephone has yet to appoint someone to take her place;
thereby leaving the souls at risk. They would be required to find their way here without her assistance, or judgment."
"But hundreds of them? And all witches?" I challenged skeptically.
"I have no answers for you," he addressed my apprehension with warning in his dark tone. "I can only tell you they have not made their way to me. You are aware Persephone has no obligation to update me of her reigning duties."
"We have reason to believe the witches are being used to destroy the Nereids' crux," Mom piped up, unfazed by his dark tone. "I need you to petition Persephone and provide me information. Hundreds of witch souls being used to further Selene's agenda is unacceptable."
"I will see what I can find out," he assured her nobly. His previously harsh eyes immediately filled with adoration and Ricker shot me a look, silently jeering my inability to influence my father. I answered with my own warning look and he bit his lip in an attempt not to laugh. Father shared a long look with Mom before speaking once again. "There is more."
"Tell me." Mom's body visibly tensed as she leaned forward.
"There has been talk of a shift." Mom's quick intake of air had me pressing for more.
"A shift?"
"With the increased...betrayal that the witches have felt due to Hecate's abandonment, there has been strife among the higher ranks. Talks of a new leader - a new Goddess."
"They can't change their connection with Hecate," I dismissed.
"They can't," Mom replied with a raised eyebrow. "But it is not impossible for someone else to shift their essence enough to permanently sever the connection."
"Wait, what?" Ian stared at her, utterly flabbergasted.
"Persephone?" I surmised. Only someone with darkness in their essence would be able to pull that off. The witches' essence was of the Underworld, and not just anyone could make that kind of shift.