Chapter 10 Sign Language
SIGN LANGUAGE
ALEXIS
My arms dropped to my sides.
In my anger, I’d resorted to old habits and signed as I spoke.
“How long have you known sign language?” Achilles repeated, eyes narrowed with rage as he took a step toward me while signing. “How long? Tell me now!”
My fingers moved quickly. “Since I was a child.”
Achilles’s chest heaved as smoke billowed around his muzzle. He cracked his tattooed knuckles—one finger at a time.
I’d never seen him so furious.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he signed, his eyes full of heavy emotions.
I raised my chin up and held his gaze, tired of Chthonic men shoving me around. “Because—I was afraid of you.”
Achilles reared back like he’d been punched.
“You entitled bitch.” Patro reached for my wrist, and once again, his grip was punishing. “How dare you say that to him—after everything we’ve done for you? Everything we’ve sacrificed.”
Achilles had paled behind his muzzle, and he looked sickly.
“You’ve done nothing,” I whispered.
Patro’s lips curled as he shook my wrist. “We took you in. Clothed you, fed you, helped you survive the crucible. Put up with all your weak woman powerless Olympian bullshit.”
His eyes filled with blood as he engaged his Chthonic powers, fingers digging into the sensitive skin of my wrist.
“No. You m-made me feel worthless,” I said softly. “You made me want to die.”
Patro dropped my arm like I’d scalded him. He staggered back, disengaging his powers.
From his reaction, it was the truth.
For the first time since I’d met him, Patro had nothing to say.
The Crimson Duo stared at me, guarded and hostile.
Turning away from them, I stomped from the narrow street into what looked like a dilapidated town center. Fluffy Jr. trotted beside me, an oversized white blur as tears spilled down my face.
“Don’t cry, kid,” Nyx hissed, her tongue flicking against my cheek. “I could kill them with one bite. Give me five seconds, and they’re dead.”
Swallowing a sob, wishing I could argue without crying, I rubbed furiously at my eyes.
“Don’t kill them,” I said miserably as I jogged forward blindly.
Nyx clicked her teeth.
“Not yet.”
Nyx hissed proudly. “That’s my girl.”
I clutched at her dry, smooth scales.
“It’s them,” a young voice rang out, echoing off the ruins.
Twenty feet away, three young boys were pointing at me with tattered book bags slung over their shoulders.
Rome wasn’t as dead as it appeared.
They gasped as they looked at something behind me.
I turned.
Achilles and Patro approached, their faces hard, as Poppae and Nero slunk low beside them.
“Holy crap, it really is the Crimson Duo!” one boy yelled, practically bouncing with hero worship.
“I want to be you when I grow up,” another shouted. “I love your muzzle!”
Patro laughed, a forced rusty sound. “Stay in school.”
The boys tittered and sprinted away to tell their friends.
I pivoted away and stomped down a different city street. Cars were overturned on either side and a tree grew smack dab in the center of the lane.
Patro huffed behind me, but didn’t say anything.
I was over Chthonic men.
From what I could tell, they were all emotionally stunted. I’d met organ snatchers who were more well-adjusted than them (there were some good, hardworking harvesters out there).
Now, as the three of us marched in stony silence, my mind turned to thoughts I shouldn’t dwell on—poisonous blood and fractured marriage bonds.
The silence between us grew more strained.
After an hour of walking through the mostly quiet city, we’d seen about a dozen people and nothing else.
There were no signs of monsters.
We’d gone in a giant circle.
Artemis must have had faulty intel. There are no—
Shadows moved in my blind spot. I whipped my head.
Air whooshed.
Thud.
A figure had dropped down from the top of a four-story building and landed in the street directly in front of me, a few feet away.
Thud.
A second figure landed beside it.
The fog cleared—both stood up to their full, grotesque heights.
Screeeeeeech.
The birds went dead silent.
I froze mid-step.
Oh.
My.
God.
Two Titans—with wings—stood framed by the Roman Colosseum in the background, its ancient facade towering high above the crumbling modern street.
The scene was haunting like an oil on canvas by the artist Alexandre Cabanel.
Fog thickened, swirling between us in an eerie haze. Since when did Titans have fucking wings?
Ten feet separated us.
“Holy … fuck,” Nyx hissed as she reared back on my neck.
I could feel Carl Gauss’s ghostly presence—we’d be meeting soon.
The Titans tilted their heads down, zeroing in on me, an amalgamation of hollowed corpse-like features, bulging black veins, and sharp talons.
Fluffy Jr. whimpered.
I slowly took a step back.
Each Titan had a twenty-foot wingspan.
The leathery appendages were a patchwork of mismatched puckered flesh that appeared to be sewn together—the seams where skin connected were swollen, oozing with infection.
Mary Shelley herself couldn’t have dreamed them up.
“I’m going to be sick,” Nyx hissed.
The Titans smiled in sync, too-wide mouths crowded with razor-sharp teeth, black blood pooling in their unblinking eyes.
Fluffy Jr. crouched in front of me, growling protectively, teeth bared as he tensed.
They both lunged for me.
I couldn’t move.
Ghastly black talons approached, air whistling as they swiped for me and—
Poppoppopopopopopopopopopopopopopop.
Hot liquid splattered across my face.
In slow motion, I brought my fingers to my wet cheek as the Titans were flung backward through the air by bullets.
Blood covered my hand—it was black.
Achilles and Patro stalked forward, smoking guns raised, gunfire spraying.
My left ear rang with sharp feedback.
In a blur, the Crimson Duo dropped empty cartridges, reloaded, and kept firing.
Shakily, I made the sign of the cross.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
Poppae and Nero leapt forward, snapping at the downed Titans as the monsters crawled backward in the assail of bullets.
Amen.
Gunpowder mixed with the putrid scent of gore.
Fluffy Jr. stood in front of me growling protectively. His head swiveled back to me, like he wasn’t sure what he should do.
My feet were rooted to the spot.
One Titan stopped crawling. It stood up and straightened to its full height, bullets clattering to the pavement as its body healed and expelled them at a terrifying rate.
Achilles shot at it with two guns, one in each hand.
Ligaments popped as the shadowy wings spread up from the Titan’s back—it leaned forward and let out an unholy screech.
Gnarled wings flapped and the Titan shot forward with impossible speed.
There was no time to react.
Thud.
The monster rammed into a body.
Patro sailed through the air, slamming into the wall of a townhome—his head cracked loudly and debris crumbled around him. His neck was turned at an unnatural angle, and crimson painted the bricks behind his skull.
He lay collapsed in the rubble, unmoving.
Achilles’s eyes widened with horror.
The Titan who’d rammed Patro stood in the middle of the street—and was now focused on me.
Achilles was between me and the Titan, smoke rising around his head, staring at Patro with his weapons lowered.
With shaking fingers, I unholstered my Spartan guns.
Long, tension-filled seconds stretched, seemingly endless.
The other Titan joined its brethren. The monsters stood side by side, both once again focused on me.
Aren’t they solitary hunters?
Achilles took a step toward Patro.
The Titans screeched.
Turning, I pivoted on my heels, and in my peripheral vision, Achilles sprinted toward Patro.
I ran down the street in the opposite direction.
“FASTER!” Nyx screamed in my ear.
Gunshots echoed.
I glanced back—Achilles knelt over Patro, shooting at their retreating forms.
It was too little, too late.
The Titans were headed for me.
Achilles threw down his weapons, then lifted Patro’s limp body and met my gaze—his eyes were aflame.
Crack.
They leapt away.
There was a whooshing sound as the Titans shot straight into the air and took flight—a scream ripped from my throat.
I was alone with monsters.
Again.