The Petros Chronicles Boxset

by Diana Tyler

  Hector looked to Ares to intervene, but the war god only sat down and brought the nectar to his lips. “Shedding blood isn’t really a custom of ours,” he said, eliciting raucous laughter from the others.

  Zeus quieted them with a wave of his hand, then swiftly drew a dagger, its bronze blade shaped like jagged bolt. “Hector, you have wisely chosen to cooperate with us in a manner most dignified. Having only just emerged into the realm of the mortals once again, I was unsure of the hubris we would encounter.” Zeus swept out his arm to indicate his peers. “I speak for all of us, even irascible Hephaestus, when I say that your assistance is supremely pleasing, and shall be rewarded.”

  Hector swallowed hard. There was no turning away from this. The unspoken agreement was crystal clear: either comply, or be killed.

  “I still don’t know exactly what it is you want me to do,” he said, then held his breath as he waited for Zeus’ response.

  “Help us kill the Ashers. Silently. Skillfully. One by one.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  HONOR

  Dead silence filled the valley as the gods held their collective breath, waiting to see whether Hector’s blood would be spilled by his hand, or their king’s.

  “The Ashers are my family,” said Hector, his quavering voice like a child’s.

  Zeus tightened his grip on the dagger, forcing his lips to smile as his eyes clouded over, as if a squall had just blown into them. “We are your family, Hector. Most mortals would be willing to give their own lives a thousand times over to earn a seat at our banquets.”

  He leaned toward Hector and lowered his voice to whisper, “Choose your next words carefully. Surely you’ve been taught better than to provoke cloud-gathering Zeus.” He lifted his little finger to the sky, and a deluge of rain fell upon Hector alone, each drop like a miniature knifepoint on his skin. Slow, steady thunder rolled overhead.

  Hector’s teeth chattered as the wind whipped around his shoulders. He knew he looked like a drowned rodent, helpless and pathetic, but there was no use trying to act differently. The immortals had been around long enough to know when a man’s courage was being feigned.

  Hector steadied his jaw and zipped his coat to his neck. “Why me? I’m sure there are better—”

  “Your doma,” Zeus roared, no longer able to keep his latent temper suppressed. He grabbed Hector’s hand and yanked it toward him. “With this,” he said, pressing the dýnami into it, “it is perfected, able to retain whatever gifts you claim for yourself.”

  Hector scanned the tables, but saw nothing except blurry faces and flickering fire. His mind was too busy imagining for his eyes to see clearly. Superhuman speed. Invisibility. Time travel. Flight. All of these powers, and so many more, could be his. The dýnami pulsed in his palm, then vibrated with a warm electric buzz.

  “Where did this come from?” he asked, flipping the rice-sized object into his other hand. Not losing this thing would be next to impossible.

  Zeus’ shoulders softened as the tension in his brow was released. The gods were like motionless mannequins around him, paying rapt attention to the drama playing out before them.

  “Tell him,” Poseidon shouted, beating the ground with the end of his trident. “Tell him about proud Straton.”

  Zeus spun around, the breeze from his cloak fanning the floral scent of olive blossoms and oak leaves in the summer. “I shall tell you all. And with great honor.”

  He turned his chin toward Hector. “Straton was deceived by Apollo, as we all were. He was an Asher like you, and like you, his doma was that of an unsurpassed birthright. He possessed all the powers of the Ashers who had preceded him. He shed his blood, every drop, in return for immortality and equality with Apollo.” He pointed at the dýnami. “The only part of him to which Apollo granted immortality was the blood he used to make that relic. Mixed with Hephaestus’s alchemy, Straton’s blood became Apollo’s most powerful weapon.”

  Hector dropped the dýnami on the table. He suddenly realized why it warmed and pulsed like a living thing: Straton’s blood was speaking to him, maybe warning him. What made him think he’d be treated any differently than his ancestor? Zeus wanted every Asher dead. They’d let him live as long as they needed him, then it would be his blood used to forge another relic.

  “What is your decision?” Zeus asked. “Will you swear the oath and receive the riches promised, or have you, despite the tribulations life has dealt you, chosen loyalty to the mortals?”

  “Let my father live,” said Hector. “I can’t be responsible for the death of my own father.”

  Zeus hung his head. “I am sorry. We cannot allow any Asher, save yourself, to survive.” He turned to Ares. “If the boy is too soft, see to it yourself.”

  Before fear had a chance to stop him, Hector kicked back his chair and took off running, tripping over bushes and scraping against weeds as he picked his way across the valley. He had no idea where he was or whether it was even possible to escape, but he had to try.

  He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Maybe, by some miracle, it had service. As he turned it on, a bolt of lightning flashed and cut through the sky, illuminating the hills and the woods below it in a nightmarish shade of blue.

  Hector stopped dead in his tracks, then looked up as half a dozen more bolts fell in a circle around him like fiery spears, fencing him in.

  “How dare you turn your back on the King of Olympus,” Zeus roared, his cavernous voice echoing like a bomb blast through the hills. “Do not fret about your father’s death. You shall join him in the afterlife soon enough.”

  Eione awoke to the sound of waves washing onto the shore. She pressed herself up, cursing as she hit her head on the steel bar above her. She was stuffed inside a cage, welded to which was a long silver rod that Poseidon held at his shoulder. He was carrying her up the rugged slopes of Petrómata, his giant fox-skin boots rattling the rocks beneath him.

  Her neck was sore, and every muscle yearned to lengthen and go weightless in the sea. How long had she been asleep? The last thing she could remember was Zeus taking the dýnami while Poseidon restrained her, his trident pressed to her throat. They must have drugged her after that.

  “Sleep well, princess?”

  “It’s no use dashing me on the rocks, if that’s what you’re planning,” she answered, rubbing the swelling bump on her forehead. “I’m immortal, like you. Or did your centuries under the earth rob your memory of who is a god and who is not?”

  Poseidon reached the summit and lowered the cage with more care than she had anticipated. He gripped two bars and pulled them apart with his bare hands. “Out with you,” he grunted.

  Eione crawled out of the cage and flexed her spine like a cat, making every vertebrae pop. “How long have I been in there?” Her throat felt as dry as the dirt beneath her.

  “Long enough.” Poseidon lowered his hand for her to take. She refused. “I cannot fault you for being angry. You know I love your sister and hate doing anything to harm or offend her family.”

  Slowly, Eione stood and stretched both sides of her neck. “And yet here I am, being dragged around like a vanquished foe about to face a lifetime of labor in the fields.”

  “This is where you wanted it, is it not?”

  “Wanted what?”

  Poseidon stabbed his trident toward the empty cliff. “Your family’s castle.”

  Eione stared at him, waiting for him to laugh at his heartless jest.

  “I am many things, Eione, but I am no liar. I said I would build you a castle here as a gesture of my gratitude, and I intend to.”

  Eione dusted off her dress and untangled her hair with her fingers. If she was going to live in a palace, she wanted to appear fit for it. As if sensing her discomfort, Poseidon directed the trident at her and spun it in circles. She felt a cool gust of wind blow through her body, transforming her sea-blue dress into a royal robe of scarlet. A heavy circlet crowned her head as her hair smoothed to silk in her hand.

  “You ma
ke a finer queen than Hera,” Poseidon said, admiring his work.

  “I won’t tell her you said that.” Eione smiled. She knew full well that Hera’s rage was fiercer than all Poseidon’s gales combined.

  “Eione!”

  The sea nymph rushed to the cliff’s edge and saw her sister waving from the scaly green back of a hippocamp. Two dozen spans of the creatures followed in even rows behind her, each carrying another of Nereus’s daughters. The girls waved at Eione, their fair faces aglow beneath the dawning sky.

  “Amphitrite, what are you doing here?” Eione called down.

  Her sister looked past her to Poseidon. He dipped his trident in greeting to his former lover. “Poseidon sent word that you would be coming home soon.” Amphitrite kicked the hippocamp’s flanks and the animal lurched forward onto the sand. Amphitrite dismounted, and then waited for all her sisters to come ashore. “Is Father with you?”

  Eione’s eyes swung to Poseidon. “Where is my father? Locked in a cage somewhere in Tartarus?”

  Poseidon blinked hard, as if the words had wounded him. She knew they hadn’t. “You wondered if I’d forgotten whether you were immortal. Now it is I who wonder if you have forgotten who your enemies are.”

  “Who are your enemies, Poseidon? You all must need the dýnami for something.”

  “None of the gods except those who deposed us,” he answered. “Your father is free to go wherever he wills.”

  The wind carried the sea nymphs’ voices like a song up the windswept cliff. The energy of their excitement was palpable. Their father was free. Their sister had returned. What reason had they to be unhappy?

  Amphitrite’s cheeks bloomed pink as she crossed the craggy ground into Poseidon’s presence. Long ago, she had been his wife. Would she be once again, after all these centuries apart?

  “Amphitrite,” Poseidon said, the apples of his own cheeks blushing as he beheld her. “You are more ravishing than I remember.” He reached for her hand and held his kiss upon it until the gaggle of sisters giggled and Amphitrite pulled away.

  “Your precious dolphin came to tell us you were free,” Amphitrite said, lifting her chin and turning her face from him. “You couldn’t deign to inform your wife yourself?”

  “And it was your sister Eione who freed me.” A hard line appeared between his thick black brows. “Meanwhile, my beloved wife was safe inside her caves, tending to her blessed starfish and seagrass.” His booming voice sailed out over the waves, commanding them to crash against the cliff’s base below.

  Amphitrite glanced at Eione, shame resting like a shadow on her countenance. Eione couldn’t deny that her sister had failed to pine for her imprisoned husband, much less made any effort to intervene on his behalf. “What’s done is done,” Amphitrite had said. Eione alone had kept watch in Ourania, waiting to hear word of the dýnami and observe the Ashers’ activity. Her sisters had mocked her then, Amphitrite most of all.

  “Fulfill your promise to my sister, then leave my family in peace,” Amphitrite said, her soft voice cold as stone.

  Poseidon’s gaze had remained on Eione as she spoke. “Maiden, if you will accept me I would make you my bride. Your sister may be more beautiful, but you have distinguished yourself for your deeds, not mere superficial attributes over which even we immortals have no control. And these works far transcend the worthlessness of vanity.”

  Eione knew that he knew her answer, but she had to say it, for Amphitrite’s sake. “You know I will not.”

  “Another noble deed,” Poseidon said.

  He swept his hand across the air, sending every loose pebble and rock skittering into the sea. With his trident, he conjured a vast foundation of limestone. Next were magnificent marble columns, a half dozen at the façade, and double that at the flanks. Their capitals were simple and smooth, poised elegantly beneath wide square cushions. Gold and silver tiles comprised the roof. They reminded Eione of the scales of sea bream that swam not far from here.

  “He’s making a temple,” whispered one of her sisters.

  “For the goddess Eione,” Poseidon said, as he placed a triangular pediment along the foremost gable. “Greatest of Nereus’s daughters, and forever honored by the Olympians.”

  The greatest of Nereus’s daughters, and yet Nereus wasn’t here to tell her so. Eione was being honored by the Olympians, yet minutes ago she’d been locked inside their cage. She knew flattery when she heard it, but was too proud to expose it. Let her sisters believe the sea god was being sincere. Let them envy her as they’d envied Amphitrite on her wedding day.

  Within the pediment, an intricate relief was forming. Eione recognized herself, the horizontal figure swimming through the River Styx, her hand clasped tightly around the dýnami.

  “Hephaestus shall craft your idol for the cella,” said Poseidon, his trident now at rest in his hand. “Even if you do not desire priestesses, the image will serve as a memorial.”

  “As you wish,” said Eione, marveling at the palatial temple sparkling like a jewel atop the cliff. Her sisters filtered onto its portico, their eyes wide with wonder as they admired the monumental structure that would have taken mortal men nearly a decade to complete.

  Poseidon leaned down and pressed his lips to Eione’s ear. “I trust you will enjoy this good fortune, goddess. I trust also that your days of heroism are behind you.” He reached his arm around her shoulder and staked the trident in the ground. Its gold prongs glittered beside her eye.

  “Take your threats and go,” she said. “What I wanted is now mine. You shall hear no more from me.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ATHENA

  Will Ethan be going back to school?” Damara asked. She was buttering toast for Chloe, her daughter’s third serving so far that morning, a surefire sign that she was sad, mad, or anxious. Today, it seemed to be a mixture of all three.

  Chloe gave a big shrug, emphasizing her apathy. “I don’t know.”

  Damara poured two cups of coffee and carried them to the table. “Knowing Ethan, he’ll want to stay here and help solve the mystery of the missing domas.” She smiled. “Has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

  “They’re not missing.” Chloe went to the refrigerator for cream. “Uncle Philip’s doma works just fine, and I’m pretty sure mine would if I tried it.” As she watched, an apple levitated over the fruit bowl and made its way toward them.

  “She’s right,” said Damian’s voice. The apple moved again just before having a chunk bitten out of it by his invisible teeth. Damian had learned how to control whether what he touched became invisible or not. “Whatever’s affecting Hector has nothing to do with us.”

  “So what is affecting Hector?” Damara asked. She took a sip of her coffee. “Maybe he doesn’t have a doma after all.”

  Damian materialized and bent down to kiss his mother’s hair. “I gotta go to class.”

  Chloe couldn’t help laughing. “The dýnami was just used to spring the most powerful rebel spirits from Tartarus, and you’re going to school?”

  Damian grabbed a sports drink from the fridge and stuffed it into his backpack. “There’s nothing we can do now, Chloe. Maybe Hermes or Carya will give us some guidance, but till then I’m not going to act like the sky is falling.”

  “When your dad gets home, perhaps the three of you can revisit the Orpheus idea.” Damara was employing the conciliatory tone she always used to diffuse the tension between the twins.

  “Sounds good.” Damian went invisible again and jingled his car keys as he walked away.

  “You better not drive like that, Damian Zacharias,” Damara said.

  “Driverless cars exist,” he replied.

  Damara shook her head, then turned her attention back to Chloe, who was busy nibbling on a slice of toast. “Is everything okay with you and Ethan? My motherly instincts are telling me there’s trouble in paradise.”

  “There was never a paradise, Mom,” said Chloe, “was there?”

  Damara’s gaze fell to the floor.


  “Why didn’t you tell me we never got back together?”

  Damara sighed as she wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. “I should have, honey. Your dad told me I shouldn’t have kept it from you. I just didn’t have the heart.”

  So far that morning, Chloe had been strong, or at least she had fooled herself into thinking she was. Ethan had texted and called her, but she hadn’t replied and finally had turned off her phone. Whenever she’d been tempted to respond, all she had to do was remember he’d never truly loved her. If he had, he wouldn’t have waited to tell her until she was at her lowest emotional point that night at Lake Thyra. He wouldn’t have let the fact that his father had turned her over to the councilman’s guards in the old timeline roll off his back as if it was some slight, accidental mishap. He wouldn’t have broken up with her when he was under the impression she didn’t love him back. He would’ve fought for her.

  But now, all Chloe’s strength was crumbling beneath the unavoidable weight of reality. She missed Ethan. She needed him. She loved him. And she knew she was a fool to end their relationship because of events that had occurred in a life they hardly remembered.

  “Did he try to get back together with me?”

  Damara’s forehead creased as she straightened the crooked placemats. An obvious no.

  “Stupid question. He’s the one who broke up with me.”

  “He loves you, Chloe. And what happened then shouldn’t even matter now, should it? You two were together when you stepped into your new life here, and your old life shouldn’t change that.”

  Chloe sighed and leaned back in her chair. Her stomach hurt from all the food she’d been stuffing herself with to tamp down her emotions. She never thought she’d ever want Iris’s medicinal ironwort tea again, but she craved it now, for both her aching belly and her troubled mind. “I wish I could remember,” she said. “If I could, I’d go back in time and live it all over again, but I can’t risk changing the timeline.”