“Good. Now, we need to go somewhere we will not be disturbed.”
A smug smile tugged at Oz’s mouth. “I know just the place.”
He took to the sky and I quickly followed him, sticking to the cloud cover until he descended upon a familiar sight: the old train station. The one where my brothers had slaughtered hundreds of Soul Breathers.
“I imagine it’s still empty,” he said, his amusement plain in his tone.
“I imagine so,” I replied, walking into the once-grand building.
“So now what?” he asked, casing the place to be certain no one else was there. “Are we just going to wait until Hermes shows up?”
“Of course not,” I admonished.
“Then care to share what you plan to do?” His question was a thinly veiled demand. I found it oddly amusing.
“Perhaps I’ll just show you.”
I walked over to him and reached for the dagger strapped to his waist as he watched me like a hawk. Just as I pulled it loose, he caught my wrist and held it captive.
“Worried I plan to use it on you?” I asked, staring him down.
He laughed. “You’d be dead before you got it free.”
He released my wrist, a silent challenge to try. Instead, I slowly pulled it free and pressed the tip to the palm of my hand. With a quick tug, the blade carved a path through my flesh. Blood welled in an instant.
“What the fuck—”
“Be silent and pay attention,” I scolded, dipping the tip into the puddle of red in my palm. “You might learn something.” Much to my shock, he obliged. “My father used to tell me about the gods: their strengths, weaknesses…predilections. I would listen to him for hours, drawn in by those vivid tales.” As I spoke, I scratched letters into the wall with the bloody dagger. With every pass, Oz looked on in abject horror. “I asked him once how the messenger of the gods could do his job—how he was always where he needed to be to do as the others bade him. He told me that they simply summoned him. All it took was his name written in blood.” I carved the final letter into the wood, the “s” a crimson serpent that would complete the task at hand.
“So that’s it?” Oz asked, genuine disbelief in his voice.
“No. Now I have to call him.”
“Call him? Like say his name?”
“What else would that mean?”
He shook his head and waved his hand, gesturing for me to continue.
“Hermes, I call you to me. Deliver yourself at once.”
For a moment, nothing happened, and Oz’s expression grew weary. “I think Hades was fucking with you—”
Before he could finish his sentence, the messenger god dropped to the ground next to us, his eyes wide and wild.
“You called, Princess?”
“Bring Hecate to us now,” I replied.
He stared at me for a moment, everything from anger to curiosity passing through his expression.
“Say please…”
Oz’s wing whipped over my head, the tip of it landing just below the former god’s chin. Blood trickled down his neck, staining his white tunic.
“Please,” Oz growled, digging the sharp edge in a little deeper.
“Such abhorrent manners,” Hermes said, backing up a step. “And to think you were once a favored one.” His attention returned to me. “Stay here. I shall return in a moment.”
He disappeared in a flash, leaving Oz and me to await his return. I looked over to my dark companion, who was carefully cleaning the blood off his wing.
“Killing him would not have been helpful.”
“Which is why I didn’t.”
“Why did he call you a favored one?” I asked, trying to glean something from his reaction to my question. Not surprisingly, I was met with nothing.
“I have a reputation. Apparently, it reached all the way to the Oudeis. Lucky me…”
“Is it true?” I asked. “Your reputation…was it deserved?”
“Favored ones don’t fall from grace, new girl. That clear things up for you?”
“No…” I mused.
“No?”
“No.”
“Do you need me to spell it out for you?”
“Your words and your actions are incongruent, Oz, which leaves me to wonder.”
“Wonder what?”
“If your fall was your own doing. If you willingly chose that outcome.”
He stared at me as he rubbed the stubble on his chin. It was clear that he was contemplating something, though I did not know what. Perhaps he was considering enlightening me. Or perhaps knocking me unconscious—for the second time.
Before I learned which was true, Hermes appeared a few yards away with Hecate. She looked haggard and forlorn. Her white hair was limp around her face, her robes in tatters. Whatever she had faced in her exit from the Underworld and her time above had been unkind. For a moment, I wondered if her power, too, had left her. The emptiness in her dull eyes mirrored my father’s.
“Princess,” she called, the urgency in her tone not lost on me.
“You wished to speak to me, Hecate. So tell me, what do you wish to speak about?”
She looked around as though afraid of who might overhear. “Have you news of the Underworld?” she asked.
“It is, as Oz likes to say, a total shitshow.”
“You have seen it, then?” She turned her attention to my dark keeper. “You have been there since the fall?”
“We have. It is as she says.”
Hecate’s mouth pressed to a grim slash across her face. “I see…”
“What happened to you, Hecate?” I asked, taking control of the conversation. She would learn nothing else until I was satisfied that she was an ally and not a traitor.
“I’m not certain,” she said, looking away. “It all happened so quickly. Your father left, and then the veils just crumbled in his absence. I alone could not restore them.”
“And the souls?” I asked. “What of them? Could you not control them?”
She shook her head. “There were too many at once, and too little power was left in the Underworld to call upon. Your father…his presence there has fed the Underworld for eternity. With that loss of power, there was only so much that could be done.”
“So you fled?”
“I saw no other choice.” She steeled herself against her shame and the beratement she expected to receive for her cowardice. “I had hoped to find you and Hades. I thought perhaps we could work together to fix what has been all but destroyed.”
I shot a look to Oz, whose expression was as closed as ever.
“What about Persephone?” he asked, staring daggers at Hecate. “Wouldn’t you want her to be there too? To lend her power?”
Hecate fidgeted with a shredded piece of stained grey robe. “I am not certain that is wise,” was her only reply.
“Speak plainly,” I snapped, stepping closer to where she’d tucked herself behind Hermes. “Why would it not be wise for Persephone to accompany us?”
“Because I do not trust her, Princess. All that has happened—all the pieces necessary to create this waterfall of chaos—seems too engineered to be an unfortunate coincidence, does it not?”
“Could I not say the same about you?” I countered. “About your involvement in the events leading to the fall of the Underworld?”
“I had a hand in it,” she replied. “I cannot deny that. It was with my complicity in Persephone’s plan that this all began. For that, I take responsibility. But you forget, I did not know that your father’s powers were weakened until after the deed was done; I only knew that something was amiss in the Underworld. It had been acting strangely, but that started when you disappeared inexplicably and Persephone took your place far sooner than normal. I thought perhaps that shift had caused the disturbance. But after you swallowed the souls of the Oudeis, I learned the truth—that Hades’ powers were waning.”
“Persephone said she did what she did to help him,” I argued, to see if it would sway H
ecate’s stance against the queen. “She was trying to save him.”
“Maybe,” she said, the hesitation in her voice clear. “Or maybe she was trying kill you…” The hardened stare of hers that I had long known slowly returned. “She knew that the souls had responded to you upon your arrival. She would have needed you gone if she wanted to rule on her own.”
“Then she failed.”
“Did she, though?” she asked, stepping out from behind Hermes, releasing her tight grip on his shirt. “She may not have killed you in the process, but she knew you would have to leave once you had assisted her—that the Dark One wanted you out of that place. Either way, she got what she wanted. She also knew exactly whom she was releasing when she emptied the Oudeis into you. The souls escaping as you crossed the Acheron was an added bonus because it put distance between you and Hades, and drove him above where he is even more vulnerable—and let a handful of vengeful gods loose in the process.”
“And you think what? That she will come for him above?”
“I think she will do what she has long done—use his true love for her to manipulate him.” My blood ran cold at her words because I believed them to be true. Persephone could manipulate him well enough to betray him. And I would have allowed it to happen. “She is power hungry and cunning, Khara. You never had the pleasure of seeing this because of your separation, but as the one who knows her best, aside from Hades, I can say without reservation that she is dangerous to anyone who gets in the way of what she wants.”
“And if what she wants is my father’s reign—”
“Then she will stop at nothing to get it.”
The mistress of the dead and I stared at one another for a moment, a moment of shared understanding. Whatever story Persephone had fed us—no matter how believable—was likely another of her insidious plans. There was too much plausibility in Hecate’s words for them to go ignored. She had little to gain and much to lose from turning on her queen, and she had done so regardless. For the sake of her king.
She had chosen her side.
As I already had.
“We must go,” I said, turning to Oz.
“We’ll be in touch, necromancer,” he said to Hecate as he walked away.
“We must return to the Underworld and attempt to rebuild it before she comes for him,” Hecate cried, lunging to grab my arm.
“She will not be a problem,” I replied, pulling out of her grasp. “We will be in touch soon.” I let my wings erupt through my backless shirt and strode up to Oz. “You know what we must do?” Oz nodded once. As soon as we were in the air, far away from the messenger god and the necromancer, I turned to face him. “She must die.”
“For the record, I believe I said that last time.”
His arrogant smile made me want to stab him. But a life without Oz was not a life I would soon be granted, nor was I certain I wished. For all his infuriating tendencies, there was a comfort in having him at my side. An ally as dark and cruel as I was capable of being. As unfeeling and practical as I.
I would need him to occupy my father while I brought Hades’ wife to justice.
9
I stormed through the front door of the Victorian, the clatter of it hitting the wall echoing all around me. Drew rounded the newel post armed and ready for battle, but he lowered his weapons when he saw me climbing the stairs two at a time.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as I passed him.
“Where is Persephone?”
“With your father. In his room…”
“Stay here,” I ordered, heading to the third floor.
“You might want to listen to her,” Oz said from close behind me. “But on the other hand, this could be amazing, so you probably shouldn’t miss it.”
“Both of you stay,” I yelled back at them. “This is between her and me.”
“My ass it is,” Oz replied, pushing past me to the door of his former room. I reached for the knob but was halted by his hand on my wrist. “Be smart, new girl. Some things can’t be undone.”
“Even death can, Oz. Perhaps I should kill her just for fun.”
I yanked free of his hold and threw open the door to find Persephone in her robes, straddling my father as he lay half-naked on the bed.
“What is the meaning of—”
Before Persephone could finish her cry of outrage, I snatched her by her long dark hair and ripped her from my father. She fell to the floor in a heap, but it did nothing to slow me. I dragged her through the door to the sound of her and my father cursing my name. Oz blocked my father’s way, allowing me to continue my trek with Persephone in tow.
Our descent to the first floor was not a graceful one, and by the time I threw her onto the couch, she had blood on her face and murder in her eyes. She started chanting in Greek, but my foot to her mouth seemed to break her concentration and, quite possibly, her jaw. She fought to free it from its dislodged position while I capitalized on the moment and pinned her to the floor, dagger poised to dive between her ribs, right into her heart—should she actually possess one.
“You are going to tell me how you planned to usurp my father, and you are going to do it now. And if I think for one second you are lying to me again, I will spear you with this blade and twist it over and over again until you writhe in pain beneath me and breathe your dying breath. Is that clear, Sister?”
“I already told you—”
“Ah!” I said, cutting off her lies at the head. “That sounds a lot like a denial, which is not what I want to hear.”
“Then you clearly do not seek the truth,” she hissed. “I didn’t lie to you before.”
“I have happened upon information that makes me think otherwise.”
“What information? From whom?”
“That is irrelevant. All you need to focus on is telling me how you did what you did and why, and I will make your death quick.”
“If you think I am lying, Sister, then call upon the one who can look into my mind and see which version of this story is true.”
“And who, pray tell, might that be?” I asked, pressing the blade hard enough to puncture the fabric of her robe and pierce her skin.
“He is your PC brother, Khara. Surely you know of whom I speak.”
I looked to Drew, who lingered on the staircase. He merely shrugged in response. But from a floor above, I could hear Oz’s laughter ring out. Seconds later, his heavy footfalls, as well as those of my father, grew louder as they headed to the first floor, where I sat upon Persephone, her life in my hands.
“Are you sure that’s what you want, Queenie?” Oz asked as he led Hades into the living room. My father looked pale and gaunt, and terrified at the sight of my bloodlust. He looked at me as though he were not seeing the daughter he knew; as if I were a wild animal about to gorge herself on his wife.
“Khara…” he called, walking toward me with care. “You must believe her.”
I ignored his plea entirely. “Who is this brother?” I asked, looking up at Oz. The amusement in his eyes sparkled in the dim light.
“This is going to be a treat.” He told Drew to text someone named Trey and have him bring someone called Muses to the Victorian, then walked behind me and sat down in the armchair. “You have no idea what you’re in for, new girl,” he said, that wicked smile as full of delight as his eyes.
I wondered exactly what I had just agreed to.
It was not long before two males appeared in the living room out of thin air. The taller dark-haired one introduced himself as Trey. He was quiet and thoughtful but remote—awkward in a way. Oz had explained that Trey was able to transport others in the blink of an eye, and that was one way he served the PC. Technology was his other strong suit. But it was not him that I found my focus drawn toward, but his companion.
Muses.
It was clear in the set of his dark eyes that he was every bit of trouble Oz had implied. Every inch of his being screamed it. Black leather from head to toe that matched the kohl liner rimming his eyes. He
looked nothing like the other PC brothers I had met, even Casey. Casey was dark in a menacing way, but Muses possessed a grace and beauty that undoubtedly belied his true nature—the perfect façade to lure in his prey.
With a glance in my direction, he smiled in a way that would have made Oz proud. A lesser being would have squirmed under his gaze, but I met his stare with one of bored indifference while I held the blade to Persephone.
“So this is the sister I have heard so little about,” he said, voice like silk.
“If you have heard anything at all, then it is more than I have of you.”
His serpent’s smile widened. “Oh, I think I’m really going to like this one,” he said, turning to Oz. “A lot.”
“She’s something, make no mistake about that, Muses. But a word of caution: don’t fuck with her, or she’ll kill you where you stand. She doesn’t have much of a sense of humor.”
His attention returned. “I shall have to see just how far I can push her, then, before she breaks.”
Before I could respond, Muses’ gaze fell upon Drew. “What’s this? No grand welcome for me, Brother? Where are your manners? Your sense of honor?”
Drew just stared at him blankly. Muses’ brow furrowed.
“You did not hear,” I said, my gaze snapping between Muses and Drew.
“Hear what?” he asked, no hint of amusement in his sharp eyes.
“Drew was brought back from the dead, released from the Underworld with my father’s help. But in this process, his memory was wiped clean. He has no recollection of who and what he was prior to his death.”
“But he’s retained his abilities,” Oz added, “which keeps things interesting at times.”
Muses looked to Drew. “You do not know me?” he asked. Drew shook his head. “Well, I fear that might be for the best. You and I had our…differences, as it were. Maybe now we will be more amicable.”
Drew’s expression fell. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me for anything.”
Oz opened his mouth to respond, but I silenced him with a glare meant to set his soul ablaze, had he one to incinerate. He merely laughed in response and reclined in his seat.
Unspoken (Unborn Book 3) Page 6