“This is not the story I have been told,” I said, thinking of the explanation given to me by my brothers.
“Of course it isn’t. The truth has a way of being perverted given enough time and loathing for those it pertains to.” There was anger in his voice as he spoke—anger that his family’s history had been twisted into something it was not. “Eos was the perfect balance of beauty and destruction—everything Ares once admired about this world.”
“And then she perished,” I said, my mind working to grasp where his version of the story was headed.
“She didn’t perish. She was murdered.” Realization drove the breath from my lungs. Though I no longer required an explanation, he continued all the same. “Phobos loved her too. Perhaps more than Ares—more than he should have. It was that love that soon turned to jealousy. In a fit of anger and paranoia, he killed our sister. The moment he recognized what he’d done, his mind broke. He disappeared into the ether, never to be seen again.”
Until Persephone needed an assassin to eliminate me…
“And you think he will kill me because I am…what? An offense to her memory?”
“No,” he said, his hand slowly lifting to my face. “A replacement.”
I shook my head, knocking his hand away. “But Phobos is gone—”
“He was gone. He has returned.”
“If he wants me to replace Eos, then he is no threat, Deimos.”
His dark expression hardened. “He will be once you refuse him as Eos did.”
“I am not Eos,” I said, straightening myself against the truth pressing down upon me. “I am not your dead sister.”
“You are the balance between light and dark—life and death. Beauty and destruction…just as she was.”
“I do not believe it—”
“Phobos hunts you now, Khara. I know this because I have seen him with my own eyes. Ares was right to have me watch over you. He understands his children well.”
“When?” I asked, a dark idea forming in my mind. “When did he come back?”
Deimos pulled away to pace the room. “You are smart enough to already know that answer.”
It took a moment for his words to register. “When Oz spoke the words of the ancient rite and pushed me off the roof—the desperate move you yourself drove him to—that is when Phobos returned?” I asked. His pacing stopped. “So you are the reason your brother hunts me? You and your unshakable desire to have me—to torment me for eternity?”
“I could not have known that your birth would draw him out—I still do not fully understand it,” he said, more to himself than me. But then the moment passed, and a blast of anger shot through the space. “I may be to blame for this,” he snapped, lunging at me, dark eyes flaring in the dim light of the chamber. “But what I tried to do would have kept you from the position in which you now find yourself. This very fate.”
“Because the color of my wings would have kept him away?” I asked, the heat I felt in that moment clear in my tone.
His jaw once again worked furiously as he decided how to answer that question—if he would at all.
“You see my actions as entirely self-serving, which is how I have wanted you to see them from the beginning. I do want you for my own, Khara; make no mistake about that. I want to own you—to rule you. To do as I wish with you because that is my nature and I will not apologize for it. But what you do not see—what no one ever will—is that there is a small part of me that has also done things to keep you safe. You tolerate Ozereus’ methods and secrets because you believe he does it all for honorable reasons. Perhaps, just this once, you could extend that courtesy to me—believe that not all my intentions are dark and twisted…” He drew his finger down my cheek, following the sharp curve of my jaw to trail down my throat. “Phobos will kill you, vasilissa mou. And I simply cannot have that.”
My tongue felt heavy and limp in my mouth, both it and my mind failing me in that moment. Deimos had spent centuries trying to prevent the very situation I now found myself in, and though I would not have wanted him to have succeeded that night on the roof of the Victorian, I could not help but think that things would be so different if he had. Perhaps my father would still rule below. Perhaps Oz would have remained as he was. Perhaps Drew would not have been killed and would still remember. In one moment, the world as they’d all known it came crashing down—all because of me.
The invisible crown upon my head grew heavier still.
“He cannot come to you in the Underworld,” Deimos said, pulling me from the guilt setting in. “I have made certain of that, but above, you are vulnerable.”
“I have Oz at my side,” I pointed out, unsure that my argument carried much weight.
Deimos’ expression went darker still. “Yes. You do. And if you stayed below, you would have me.”
My eyes narrowed as anger spiked in my veins. “Are you suggesting that I leave Hades to whatever fate may befall him so that I can hide down here forever and avoid my own?”
“I will not lose another to Phobos’ madness,” he all but growled in response.
“Then deal with him.”
“I am not sure I can.”
I leaned forward and turned the terror he wielded without trying against him. “Then I will.”
With nothing left to say, I pushed past Deimos, headed for the Great Hall, where Oz and Aery would be waiting. I had no time for the faceless threat he leveraged against me. There were more pressing matters to attend to, like restoring the Underworld and returning my father to his throne. It was time to act like the princess he had raised me to be. Sacrifice was part of ruling, the ugly part that so many refused to acknowledge in their pursuit of power. But I knew it all too well and was prepared to make as many as necessary to undo the chaos my birth had created—my literal and figurative birth. The falling of the pact and the emergence of my wings had done little more than harm those who dared to care for me.
If the price to right those wrongs was my life, then so be it.
Father always said there were fates far worse than death.
12
When I reached the Great Hall, Oz and Aery were nowhere to be found. My dead brothers informed me that he had taken her above for aid—that they had been unable to help heal her. I looked over to the river that held back the souls of the Underworld and realized that I had never once attempted to cross it alone. Oz had all but forbidden it, afraid I would plummet to my death; afraid I did not possess enough darkness to allow me safe passage. But Oz was not there, and I would not have Deimos return me. I could not afford to appear weak or incapable in his eyes.
I told my brothers I would return soon, then walked to the cliff’s edge. With my wings extended wide around me, I beat them twice to test their strength. All felt as it should.
I hovered just above the rocky ledge, my eyes fixed on where I wished to go. As my wings flapped, I could feel the souls approaching, an audience forming around me. Whether they were there to keep me from leaving or to witness my death, I did not know. And it mattered not.
“You will let me cross,” I muttered under my breath.
I snapped my wings and shot forward over the wide river that protected the Underworld. I felt its pull with every beat of my wings, like a tether holding me back. I struggled against it for a moment, my progress halted over the center of the Acheron. I was caught, and the harder I flew, the more entrapped in the invisible web I became. As I tired, the struggle sapping my energy every moment I remained, I dropped lower toward the flowing acid below.
“You will let me go!” I shouted, channeling whatever power I could.
The invisible barrier began to give way, if only slightly.
“I am the Princess of the Underworld and I demand that you let me leave!” I cried, my wings beginning to fail. The Acheron hissed and spat below me, anticipating its next meal.
Then, all at once, a loud sound echoed off the rocky walls. The tether snapped, and I surged to the opposite shore. I crashed, a cloud of
dust and debris encircling me as I rolled. I slammed into something hard, stopping me. As I disentangled myself from my wings, that something hard moved. I looked over to find a pair of black leather-clad legs looming.
“Do you want to tell me what the fuck that was, or should I just lock you in your basement for eternity? Because you clearly lack the ability to make solid decisions on your own…”
Oz crouched down next to me, his scowl plain in the fiery light.
“You were not here when I returned,” I said, sitting up.
“Yeah, I was a little busy dealing with the nearly dead Underworld nymph.”
“How is she?”
“She’ll live…maybe.” His caustic stare bore right through me as I struggled to my feet. “You on the other hand…”
“I managed just fine without you,” I argued.
“Clearly.” His mask of arrogance fell into place, hiding any other emotions he may have felt in that moment. “So tell me, what did Deimos have to say?”
“Not much,” I replied, not wishing to discuss the matter with him yet—not until I had spoken to Aery first and gotten a better understanding of what she knew.
“Really?” he asked, leaning closer. “He didn’t tell you what you wanted to know?”
“Deimos does as Deimos wishes. You know this.”
“That’s really interesting,” he said, leaning closer still, “because after I left Aery with your dead brothers, I came to get you. I heard everything...”
“You lie,” I said, dusting off my pants so I could avoid his piercing stare.
“Do I? You willing to bet?” No. I was not. “Cass just came and got me a minute ago—after they realized Thomas couldn’t help Aery. He told me to take her above.” Shadows played across his features, highlighting the harsh angle of his jaw. “You and Deimos sounded downright cozy when I left…”
“I do not believe you would have stood by and let me cross the Acheron unaided—”
“Maybe I wanted you to learn a lesson.”
“You would have let me perish? That seems unlikely, given your commitment to keeping me alive.”
“I never said I would have let you die. I said I wanted you to learn a lesson.” His frown deepened as he looked past me to the Acheron. “Unfortunately, you figured a way out of your situation.”
“Yes, well, I am terribly sorry you were unable to swoop in and save me like the white knight you are…”
His eyebrow quirked as he turned his attention to me. “I’m not sure the role of hero really suits me.”
I stepped closer to him, my chest brushing his. “Perhaps that is for the best, for I do not need saving.”
His muscles went taut against me. “Not today.”
Without another word, he turned and led the way toward the gates as though I did not know where to go. He did not speak to me again until we were nearly above. As soon as the gates came into view, he grabbed my arm and spun me around. It seemed as though his anger at what he had overheard had finally eclipsed his worry.
“Do you think Deimos is going to start shit with you and Ares? Or is he just fucking with you to get what he wants?”
“Though the latter is probable, I believe neither he nor my real father want the former.”
“Because Deimos is such a trustworthy guy?” he asked, leaning in even closer to me. “Would you trust his words over my own?”
There was a challenge in Oz’s reply. A dare. His questions were part of a test that, if I failed, I had no doubt would bring undesirable consequences.
“I trust his words in this instance only because they make sense.”
“And Phobos?”
“Of that I am less certain. Aery knows something that Deimos did not want to come to light. I fear he is covering something up—something we must learn sooner rather than later.”
Oz cursed under his breath. “Those two pricks are going to be a real problem.”
“So it seems.”
Another curse. “Were you going to tell me about this later, or was I going to have to drag it from you?” His anger flared like a flame.
“Given an opportunity—one more timely than when Aery lay dying at the gates of the Underworld—yes. I would have.”
A low rumble of frustration escaped him.
“Does Hades know about Ares? Have you told him?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Why? Worried you’ll stress out poor Daddy?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
I cocked my head and stared at him. “Reasons. Is that not the answer you so love to give me?”
“One of them,” he said without pause, “but it works better when I do it.” He glared down at me, awaiting what I would say next, egging on the argument. There was something in his eyes that night—a spark, a light—and it grew with every step he took toward me. Every inch we grew nearer.
I stood firm against him. “I think evasive suits me just as well as you. Perhaps I am using my abilities to channel your surly, uncooperative nature and turn it against you.”
His brow furrowed.“I’m not a fan of that possibility.”
“It does not require your endorsement to be true.”
He bent forward, his lips at my ear, his warm breath on my cheek.
“Maybe there’s an upside to this.”
“That I can use it against Phobos when he comes to kill me?”
He pulled away, his expression hardened. “No.”
“Then what?”
“I’m starting to find your defiance attractive.”
“That should make it far easier to tolerate, then.”
“Yes. And no.” He closed the distance between us again until my nose brushed against the light fabric of his shirt, the spicy scent of him impossible to ignore. “Yes, because I no longer want to throttle you when you refuse to see things as they are.”
“And the no?” I asked, my voice breathy.
“No, because what I feel right now is much harder to ignore.”
He turned and stormed away, his hands balled in fists at his sides. Fucking and fighting—the two things Oz boasted he excelled at—seemed to war within him as he retreated. Never once had his intentions been so clear. Never once had he been so close to acting.
And never once had I realized how much I wanted him to do just that.
13
By the time we broke through the gates of the Underworld, my anger and frustration were in check, but my concern for Aery was not. I was not used to having such volatile emotions. It seemed, however, that they arose whenever my family was involved—whether by blood or by bond. Something about my connection to them made reason fail when danger was present.
Standing right where we had left them were Casey and Persephone, Aery lying at their feet.
“How is she?” I asked as Persephone crouched down beside her.
“I have done what little I can, but she needs someone with more ability than I possess. Sean or the Healer will be needed for this deed, the former being the more likely choice. He is quite protective of the latter and unlikely to hand her over to care for someone who is not PC.”
“Then we need to leave,” Oz said, but my dark gaze fell on Persephone, Deimos’ words ringing in my mind.
“We will, once she clears up something for me.” I stepped closer to the Queen of the Damned, eyeing her tightly. “Sister, is there anything you would like to clarify about your exit from the Underworld? Anything that perhaps you forgot to mention when you arrived? Or when Muses confirmed your story?”
Her eyes were steel, her stare unbreakable. She looked at me as though she were silently casting a spell, wishing any number of atrocities upon me. I had outed yet another secret.
“I see,” I said. “Perhaps I was confused when you said that the Underworld spat you out. That seemed to imply that you were ejected—not that you were escorted by Deimos.”
“It is not what you think,” she said, her voice low and guttural. Not at all the queenly demeanor I h
ad grown accustomed to.
“I believe it is…”
“I lied. That much is true, but my reasons were sound, not the least of which was my desire to not frighten Hades. The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew things were far worse than I had even imagined. If he had known what really happened, his despair would have known no end.”
“And what is the truth?” I asked, stepping closer to her. Perhaps she could see the thinly veiled rage in my eyes, or perhaps she knew she was caught, but no matter the reason, she squared her shoulders and prepared to deliver the story of what had occurred that night.
Or at least her most recent version of it.
“When the veils fell, I was not cast out. Instead, I was turned on. If it were not for Deimos, I wonder if I would have even survived long enough to make it to the Acheron.”
I felt Oz step up to flank me. “You couldn’t control them either?” he asked.
She shook her head. “My commands barely affected them.”
He took a step closer. “Then why the fuck did you make it sound like you could waltz back in there and shut shit down?” Persephone’s gaze betrayed her, her eyes darting over to me before returning to glare at Oz. When he put the pieces together, his hand launched at her throat. “You were going to use Khara again, weren’t you? You were going to make her swallow all those souls so you could do whatever sketchy shit you had planned.”
Her reply stuck in her throat. Only strangled, garbled sounds escaped.
“Let her go,” I said, putting my hand on his arm. He turned and looked at me as though I had once again lost my mind. “She cannot tell us if you do not release her.”
His grip on her tightened.“I don’t need to confirm what I already know.”
“I would like to hear her say it.”
With a shove, he released Persephone. I could feel her anger wash over me like the heat from a flame, but she made no move against us. Perhaps she knew the odds were not in her favor.
“Yes, I planned to use Khara to collect the souls. I did not divulge this plan because I can never seem to get you away from the Dark One, and I knew he would not agree. I hoped that once we arrived in the Underworld and you saw the chaos, you would be willing to overrule his objections.” Her lips pressed to a thin line as she took a deep breath. “You seem to be the only one who can.”
Unspoken (Unborn Book 3) Page 10