Chapter 25 A Massacre of Power #2
As he walked past Artemis, mother and son made eye contact. She’d secretly disowned him, but publicly, he was still the heir of the House. After all, there weren’t any other children left.
Artemis stared at his missing ear, then down to his visible protectors, her mist glittering as something like surprise flashed in her gaze.
Kharon looked away first, his face emotionless as he sprinted up the steps with his flag.
Hell and Hound ran beside him, teeth bared to the crowd. Olympians gasped and recoiled as they pointed at his protectors.
Murmurs of monsters and a missing ear echoed around the stadium.
From the reactions, most Spartans had never seen a hellhound in the flesh, since they were usually invisible.
The murmurs died down as Patro stepped forward.
He had one hand wrapped around the black swan flag of the House of Aphrodite, but Achilles raised it high, his grip taking the brunt of the weight.
Both men looked at me as they walked past.
I raised my chin—it’s not my fault you got caught, it was your plan, not mine—I silently let them see my annoyance.
Patro’s jaw clenched.
Achilles straightened.
They turned to each other and raised the flag higher, running up the steps in perfect tandem, side by side; Nero and Poppae trailed behind them.
It was my turn.
Hades nodded his head to me. Next to him, tears glimmered in Persephone’s eyes. “You can do this, daughter,” she mouthed with a hand over her chest.
The stadium shook with stomps.
I pulled my shoulders back.
I will make my mother proud.
Raising my right arm—Nyx invisible around my forearm—I held the long black staff above my head.
“Bow before us!” Nyx hissed for dramatic effect.
With my head high, I sprinted up the vibrating steps. Sparta blurred around me.
The skeleton hellhound flag of the House of Hades fluttered above.
My House.
My lineage.
Goose bumps broke out across my skin.
My power.
I would figure out what the tingling in my fingers and glowing light meant; I would figure out just who I was.
With Fluffy Jr. on my heels, an ancient war cry echoed through my mind. My ancestors ran with me—I could feel their pounding feet and racing hearts—their hopes and dreams were strumming through my veins.
Their power lived on inside of me.
My lungs expanded.
I will make my bloodline proud.
Even if it killed me.
“The lost heir to the House of Hades,” Olympians whispered as I ran by. Their bird protectors screamed, wings fluttering with distress—they were afraid of me—the animals and the Spartans.
I straightened as I sprinted.
They should be afraid.
Black flag above my head, arms tensing, I waved it back and forth with all my might.
“Angelus Romae!” someone called out near the top of the stadium, and there was a responding wave of nervous murmurs. Angel of Rome.
I stumbled, nearly tripping over a step.
I was no angel.
Adrenaline and pride drained away as I came to a stop at the designated Chthonic section and took my seat.
There was nothing left to do but wait.
All too soon, the massacre began.
One hundred boys leapt into the arena sands—then, they fought to the death.
Fluffy Jr. lay at my feet, whimpering. Helen and Charlie huddled together with Drex not looking, and my husbands sat rigid on either side of me.
A gruesome legacy to bear.
The chanting had died down as the first body dropped, and now screams from below echoed through the silent stadium.
Hades and Zeus stood together on a podium watching the death match.
Kharon and Augustus sat on either side of me.
I stared down blankly, head full of static.
Last year I’d been one of the bodies crawling through the muck and inky fog. I’d been throwing punches, amped up on adrenaline, delirious with blood lust.
Kharon leaned toward me, like he could read my thoughts. “How did you … survive?”
My hand drifted to the warm scales wrapped around my arm. “Nyx. Without her, I never would have made it. She … saved me.”
A forked tongue flicked against my skin.
“I’m … glad then,” Kharon said softly. “That you have her.”
“Me too.”
Nyx slid off my forearm onto him—Kharon jolted, his eyes wide as he stared down at where the sleeve of his suit indented.
“I always knew he would be a good mate,” Nyx hissed as she twined up his arm. “He smells like blood and death.”
If that doesn’t sum up my life.
Kharon sat up straighter and smirked at Augustus. “The killer snake likes me more than you.”
“False.” Nyx slithered over my lap to Augustus, and he grunted with surprise.
“I like the muzzled one best,” Nyx said. “And the raccoon mother second best. I prefer men who don’t speak. Men should be seen—slaughtering and protecting—not heard. I’ve always said this.”
If a massacre wasn’t happening before my eyes, I would have laughed at her ridiculous name for Augustus.
But it was.
Charlie and Helen were now cowering in front of me with their eyes squeezed shut and their hands covering their ears. Drex was pale, his face turning green.
I forced myself to watch as Hades’s fog retreated, and ten boys were left standing, eighty-three broken bodies splayed around them.
A familiar elderly woman with white hair and purple eyes walked out with a clipboard. She wore rainbow-covered rainboots and a ridiculous yellow hat.
Fate, they called her.
Ten Olympian men jumped down from the stadium and Zeus announced their assigned mentors.
Patro glanced over at me, his expression caught somewhere between pleading and a sneer.
I looked away.
With electricity dancing across his skin, Zeus droned on about unity in the face of darkness.
“Rest assured, Medusa will be captured.” Zeus’s voice crackled as it broadcasted boomingly through the stands. “But until then—for everyone’s safety—the federation has made a decision to break with tradition.”
Augustus and Kharon stiffened beside me.
The stadium held its breath.
“The SGC will now start tomorrow. All Chthonics will stay at the Dolomites stadium for the twelve-day showcase. They will also be extensively questioned by the federation to make sure they have no association with Medusa’s disappearance.”
My heart stopped.
It was June.
The SGC wasn’t supposed to start until August. We were supposed to have two more months to prepare.
There was a roaring in my ears as Chthonics jumped to their feet around me. People were shouting. Olympians were screaming about dishonor and war.
The chant, “Kill Medusa—kill Medusa—kill Medusa,” rose throughout the stadium.
I covered my mouth to stop myself from throwing up.
Zeus continued, “Any Chthonic who leaps away, or refuses to answer questions about Medusa, will be named an enemy of the state of Sparta—punishable by imprisonment in the Underworld … or death.”
The shouts increased.
People jostled as fists were raised.
Someone was crying.
I stood up, my knee almost giving out as I struggled to straighten. Charlie and Helen turned—they were grabbing me.
“What,” Helen whispered, “are you going to do about—”
“Don’t worry,” I said, cutting her off. “I’ll … I’ll … f-figure something out.”
Helen didn’t look reassured, her eyes filling with tears. Charlie swayed like he was going to pass out, and Achilles grabbed his shoulder, signing to him, “It’s going to be okay.”
My brother nodded.
Kharon sidled closer to me. “Stay beside us. We need to stick together while we figure out what the fuck is happening.”
I tried to nod to show him that I heard, but my neck wouldn’t move.
Our time had run out.