Chapter 18 The Price of Power
THE PRICE OF POWER
ALEXIS
I limped into the villa and headed toward Helen’s room.
Hell and Hound prowled in front of me, and Fluffy Jr. walked at my side with Poco on his neck.
I was exhausted and drenched to the bone, because for the last sixteen hours, Augustus had led all of us on a punishing run through the rain (he was a homicidal maniac).
When night had fallen, and we’d finally stopped, I slipped out while everyone headed to the training center to shower.
Only Achilles had noticed me walk away. In fact, he’d been staring at me a lot lately.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the villa’s entrance, and my right knee buckled—I grabbed blindly to steady myself.
I was holding on to the fifteen-foot-tall bronze statue of a naked warrior that decorated the corner of the atrium. The man held a stone in his right hand and was strangling a monstrous snake with his other—the beast’s mouth was wide open, curved fangs bared.
“You really need to bulk up,” Nyx said unhelpfully from around my neck.
Releasing the sculpture, and ignoring my bruised pride, I limped out of the atrium and made my way down a long corridor.
“Carissima.”
Thunder cracked as Kharon’s voice echoed darkly off the walls.
I slowly turned around.
Augustus and Kharon stood at the end of the hall I’d just limped down. Soaking wet, their workout clothes were plastered to their sculpted bodies.
Their narrowed eyes glowed faintly in the dark, like they were creatures from Hell.
It’s an ambush.
Winged Titans would have been less imposing.
Augustus cleared his throat. “We have something for you. A … gift.” He held up a black box. “Please, take it.”
Never again.
I shook my head.
Kharon’s jaw clenched. “Take it,” he said quietly, his posture rigid. “Please,” he bit out, like it physically pained him to say the word.
I pulled my shoulders back, mimicking his stance.
“No.”
Kharon ground his teeth together.
A beat passed, then he and Augustus stalked toward me, their footsteps silent as they approached.
Run for your life.
I widened my stance and held my ground.
The storm raged outside.
“Leave me alone.” My voice rang down the hall.
Kharon’s face twisted. “I can’t do that.” He clenched his jaw. “Anything but that.”
“You looked tired during the run.” Augustus studied me from head to toe, searching for injuries as he stalked closer. “Are you feeling okay?”
Sure, if okay means like a cadaver.
They were only ten feet away.
Nyx clicked her fangs. “Tell them you’d feel better if they crawled and kissed your feet.” She paused like she was thinking about it. “Also, they need to be naked. That part is crucial.”
I really can’t keep living like this.
They were almost in my personal space.
I reached my hands down and touched the animals who sat at my feet.
Kharon made a strangled sound as he realized my intention—he grasped for me.
“Domus.”
Black-painted nails swiped like claws, centimeters from my face.
CRACK.
I collapsed onto a pile of sparkly dresses, groaning—smoke billowed—I was back inside Helen’s empty room. I’d done the impossible again; I’d leapt a short distance mid-panic.
Apparently, I had no innate sense of self-preservation. Yay?
Tripping over pillows and boxes of makeup, I threw myself against the door, shutting it as I turned the locks.
Heaving, I leaned against it and slumped with relief.
My gasps echoed in the quiet.
I was alone.
Safe.
No one was going to bother me.
Finally.
I just needed some time to—
“Alexis.” Kharon’s voice echoed through the door, vibrating with menace.
I shrieked.
How did he move so fast?
I backed away into the room. A string of pearls on top of a bejeweled purple gun wrapped around my ankle and I fell to the ground.
“You could have gotten hurt leaping,” Augustus said in the hall.
“What did I say would happen if you injured yourself?” Kharon asked coldly. “I believe I was very … explicit.”
Something about tormenting me for all of eternity?
Too late.
There was a dull popping sound like Kharon was cracking his knuckles.
“Wait, are you threatening me?” I asked, half outraged, half disturbed (mentally).
“No,” Augustus said too quickly.
Kharon chuckled, cadence severe and mocking. “Obviously—Alexis.”
My heartbeat pounded in my ears.
“Go away,” I said as I crawled on hands and knees across the floor, desperate to put more space between us.
“We’re trying to apologize.” Augustus sounded remorseful and sincere.
“I’m fucking sorry,” Kharon said belligerently. “I demand you forgive me, Alexis.” He paused. “Right now!”
I choked.
Does he really think that’s going to work?
How I’d managed to find a man more socially inept than myself should be studied.
“Tell them that you’ll accept their regret,” Nyx hissed. “But only if they give you a sexual favor. Woman’s choice.”
I looked longingly at the gun.
Kharon swore viciously in the hall, like he’d just realized verbally attacking his wife was not yielding a positive result.
I crawled into the attached bathroom.
Fluffy Jr. whined (neighed?) in the bedroom, too large to fit, but the skinnier hellhounds followed me inside, the blue flames in their eye sockets flashing red—I blinked—they once again flickered an innocuous teal.
Did I imagine it?
I blew a kiss to Fluffy Jr. and shut the door.
Kharon yelled something, but it was blessedly muffled.
Dozens of flickering pink candles, wrapped with white bows, sat along the rim of the bathtub, dripping wax.
Nyx slithered off my shoulders as I climbed into the tub, reached up, and yanked on the spray.
Fully clothed, I looked down.
“C+A” was stark across my forearm—I traced the letters of the messy tattoo.
Sparta was a tangled web of politics and power.
Kharon shouted something louder.
Do it for Charlie.
I dug my right fingernail into the palm of my hand.
Blood trickled out of the shallow cut as a prickling sensation tingled my fingers.
Water fell around me in slow motion.
I raised my arm higher and imagined the bloody streaks forming a protective shield or hovering in the air like fog.
Claim your power, daughter. Hades’s voice echoed in my head.
Nothing happened.
Everyone else in the Assembly of Death controlled their abilities—mine was inert—it was wielding me.
Even Drex could tap into his stamina at will.
“Don’t panic,” Nyx hissed as I did just that. “Let’s play the alliteration game.”
Nostalgia hit me. Nyx came up with it when I was a young child, and we’d continued the tradition through high school. We used to play late at night when the hunger pangs were so sharp that I couldn’t sleep, and there was nothing to do but wait for the sun to rise.
“Audacious anguines annoy Alexis,” I whispered.
Nyx cackled. She’d always loved the game. “Adders almost ate Alexis.”
“Alexis anticipates agita,” I said, already feeling calmer. “After another archaic agonizing anticlimactic athletic action.”
“Now it’s the hellhounds’ turn,” Nyx hissed.
I sighed. Lately she’d become unhealthily obsessed (murderous) when it came to the dangerous creatures.
Pulling aside the shower curtain, I looked at the skeletal hounds.
“Nyx wants to know if you want to play the alliteration game with us.” I found that it helped my subconscious to speak hellhound if I was looking at them.
Talking to Nyx was way easier, probably because I’d known her most of my life.
They nodded aggressively.
A long minute passed as they came up with their answer.
“Alexis … big … girl,” Hell garbled, bony jaw flapping.
Hound chortled. “Good one.”
Over the past few days, it had become abundantly clear that they weren’t the brightest.
I wasn’t in any place to judge.
“What did they say?” Nyx asked excitedly. “Tell me.”
Being a translator was surprisingly exhausting. “They said—Alexis is an awesome animal.”
Nyx scoffed. “Tell them that’s not how the alliteration game works and they’re pathetic stupid idiots … Also, I will kill them to put them out of their misery.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Tell them right now—do it,” Nyx demanded impatiently. “I want to see their faces.”
I looked at Hell again. “Nyx says you’re very smart and she’s impressed by your alliteration.”
Hell sat up straighter and preened. “She big right.”
“Smart dog!” Hound announced proudly as she bumped her shoulder into Hell’s with a clatter.
“Why do they seem so happy?” Nyx asked suspiciously.
“They want to die,” I said dryly.
Nyx clacked her jaw with excitement. “So—can I try and kill them now?”
“No.”
“So, yes.”
“No.”
“No, as in maybe?”
I stared up at the multiple water faucets. “Asking for a friend—can snakes drown?”
Nyx hissed but fell silent as she slid up my body and twined around my arm.
A few minutes later, I stumbled out of the bathroom and dressed for bed. From the peaceful quiet, my husbands had left.
I slipped into the adjoining room.
Ceres was asleep under the covers, which were covered in the Spartan history books that Helen kept giving her.
A pen was still clutched between her ink-stained fingers, like she’d fallen asleep taking notes, desperately trying to regain her memory.
In the bright moonlight, her features were soft and doll-like—she furrowed her brow and whimpered, looking impossibly young in the grand four-poster bed—there were ink smudges on her cheeks.
Lavender eyes blinked open and Ceres yawned, pointing to a book open at the foot of the bed. “I think … I’m finally remembering.”
She closed her eyes and turned, snuggling under the covers as she fell back asleep.
I peered down at the book she’d pointed to. Words were scribbled at the top of the page in her cursive handwriting.
“Zeus + Vyco. Hercules? Assassination?”
My stomach dropped.
What do I have to do with her memory?
Also, Vyco was the man who claimed I’d been attacked by Titans as a baby.
The scar on my sternum tingled.
I looked closer at the book. The text appeared to be archaic symbols in different colors, and was like no history book I’d ever seen.
Ceres had underlined sections and written in the margin, “Need to remember that day.”
How can she read this?
I backed away.
Tensions in Sparta were high.
Just yesterday, “Medusa manhunt picks up steam, Federation plans to start interrogating Chthonics” was printed across the top of the daily Falcon Chronicles.
I need to run away while I still can.
I rubbed at my wrists.
Hades believes in you.
I stumbled back into Helen’s dark bedroom.
Helen and Charlie were both asleep.
During my shower (protracted mental health episode), the two of them must have returned from their night tutoring session.
Charlie was asleep on the floor in a pile of pink pillows, a healthy glow to his cheeks. His features had been filling out since he began his stay at the villa.
Kohl was smudged around his eyes. Definitely Helen’s.
Smiling more and scowling less, Charlie stuck to Helen’s side since they had classes together all day. They often were giggling with each other at some joke the rest of us didn’t understand. He wrote on a notepad and was constantly showing it to her, then hiding it from everyone else.
I’d even caught him signing with Achilles at dinner.
There was no evidence of the aggressive boy who was constantly getting into fights. He’d shed his old, starved self like a second skin.
I wished I could do the same.
Charlie smiled in his sleep. Fluffy Jr. lay facing him, their arms (and hooves?) overlapping.
Sighing, feeling like I was twenty going on one hundred years old, I slid under pink silk sheets.
Almost instantly I dreamed of the grim reaper standing over me.
He caressed my cheek. “I’ll be back,” he promised darkly. “Don’t worry—I’ll always return.”
My eyes opened and I sat up with a gasp.
Death was gone.
Did the door just close? Was there a shadow moving? Was there—
The bed dipped as a fluffy gray creature waddled across it. Poco climbed toward me until his whiskers tickled my face.
“I told you that we can’t keep doing this,” I whispered.
He patted his tiny hand against my cheek as if telling me not to worry, then he curled up into a furry ball, his back pressed against mine.
I pulled the covers up over him, so he was fully covered with his ears sticking out, just how he liked.
His gentle purrs vibrated through me.
I closed my eyes.
For the first time in weeks, nightmares didn’t plague me.
The grim reaper was gone.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
For the second time, I jolted awake.
From the moonlight, only a few hours had passed. The soft raps continued. Poco purred. Helen and Charlie shifted in their sleep.
“Alexis—are you up?” Patro whispered through the door. “We need to talk.”