Chapter 45 Who Did This To You?
WHO DID THIS TO YOU?
ALEXIS
Right eye partially swollen shut, my vision was nothing but a sliver—darkness closing all around.
In my hand, the glowing Rod of Asclepius was warm, a myth in the flesh, composed of writhing, poisonous blood. The same blood ran through my veins, dripping from the open wound on my side.
From the solemn heaviness in the air, I wasn’t the only one that recognized the global symbol of healing.
Is this real?
Nyx went invisible as she slithered around the staff like she was born to do so; Fluffy Jr.’s wings framed it.
Destiny was a curious thing.
Did I choose them, or did they choose me?
“THIRD ROUND,” Zeus’s voice was jarring in the deathly quiet.
I tilted my head back, neck swiveling as I struggled to see.
Sparta stared down at me in silence.
“TWO MORE LABORS.” Zeus banged his scepter down against stone.
Persephone and Hades were blurry figures standing together. I imagined they were smiling, watching me with loving pride.
Steel lifted.
Fluffy Jr. shook his head, wings raised, as he turned to face the gate.
Right eye throbbing, I raised my staff up higher and waited.
Let them come.
Two shadowy figures stalked out of the dark, heat forming a mirage of waves at their feet.
They headed toward me with their hands in chains.
Lowering my arm, I pointed the sharp end of the rod at the approaching monsters, ready to kill.
With my powers, I was a murderous healer—the duality of a woman.
The monsters approached, wavering in and out of focus, and I squinted, trying to see them better.
A gasp shredded my throat.
No.
Silver cuffs restrained their hands; bright sunlight created a haze around each of them.
Twenty-five-year-old Mary Shelley opened her desk, revealing a beating heart.
Everything blurred.
Augustus and Kharon stalked toward me.
I blinked—their shadows blocked out the punishing sun—they loomed above me, an arm’s length away, scowling.
Up close, they were covered in bruises.
Kharon swayed slightly and Augustus stumbled, like they’d been drugged. They righted themselves, clearly fighting off the effects of whatever the Olympians had given them.
They glanced down at the staff in my hands, recognition flickering.
This can’t be happening.
A booming vibration rattled as the stadium stomped, a chant starting up, “Angelus Romae … half Olympian, she wields the fated staff … Angelus Romae … half Olympian, she wields the fated staff.”
Twelve House flags waved in the stands.
Olympians screamed at me to finish the men, as if they’d reclaimed Persephone, as if I was now one of them.
The ancient coliseum spun.
Kharon cleared his throat.
I looked away.
You just have to defeat them and render them unconscious.
I couldn’t do it.
Memories played: We held each other as we slept. Kissing. In the shower. On my knees. Them between my legs while I sat on an altar. “I love you,” they whispered, and I breathed back, “I love you.”
“My carus,” Augustus said.
Kharon worked his jaw back and forth, his eyes cold as he stared at my injured side.
Voices screamed all around, begging for violence. The greatest trick Spartans ever played was convincing humanity they were civilized.
I missed the nuclear wastelands of Montana.
“Alexis—look at us.” Augustus’s voice was hard as steel.
I couldn’t. I was too busy shattering into little pieces.
Augustus’s combat boots stepped closer.
I flinched, eyes squeezing shut.
“Wait,” Kharon said slowly. “Alexis—do you think … we’re going to … harm you right now?”
I took a shaky step back, and Augustus inhaled sharply.
Kharon swore.
Lethal emotions stretched between the three of us.
“You will face us,” a smooth masculine voice echoed inside my head.
It had come from within.
I’d officially made the final descent into evil—possession—only an exorcism could save me now.
As if in a trance, I looked up.
Blood covered Augustus’s face, streaking from both his eyes; Kharon stood unnaturally still, his jaw clenching and releasing.
“Why?” Kharon asked.
“You have to defeat me,” I whispered, the rightness of the words settling over me. “I won’t let you get branded … not again. Not for me.”
“Did you really think—” Kharon’s lashes fanned across eyes so cold, they were more gray than blue “—that I was going to come out here and fight you with my bare fucking hands? The woman I love?”
I held his gaze. “Yes. Because I won’t do that to the men I love.”
Augustus stared at me in silence.
“Your pain is mine—you’re my fucking heart and soul,” Kharon said as he thumped at his chest. “Do you know what that means, Alexis? I would sooner die than see you hurt. I’ve given you my ear …
What more do you want from me? What do you need me to do to prove to you that I’m madly in love with you? Do you want my heart ripped from my—”
“I have to be the one to lose!” I cut him off, terror and rage spreading like fire, leaving me desperate.
I spread my arms wide.
“Defeat me,” I begged, the wound in my side throbbing.
Kharon shook his head as he backed away. Augustus stood still, unmoving in the face of my desperation.
“DO IT!” I screamed.
Neither moved.
“Please,” I whispered with a broken rasp.
Darkness closed in as my injured eye filled with blinding tears.
“We’re sorry we couldn’t be there for you this morning,” Augustus spoke slowly. “They must have drugged us at the symposium. When we woke up, you were fighting already—we tried to leap through the electric dome—guards stopped us.”
That was why they looked so awful, why I’d woken up with aching limbs.
“We’re sorry we failed you,” Kharon said with anguish. “This is all our fault.”
Tears fell faster and I staggered into one of them. They righted me and I pulled away.
With my right eye swollen, I was fully blind.
I spread my arms wide again. “Just fight me!” I pleaded. “Just get it over with. Please. I love you—I can’t do this.”
Calloused fingers gently touched my face, restrained by manacles—I startled, not realizing he’d gotten so close.
“Alexis. Why are you acting like— Your left eye seems fine …” Augustus trailed off, air whistling through teeth.
He stilled.
A new sharpness expanded between us.
“No,” Augustus said shakily.
“What is it?” Kharon asked, his voice getting louder as he neared.
Augustus didn’t speak. His thumb burned where it traced against my skin. The pungent scent of ozone stained the air, as if lightning had struck.
“It’s on the same side as your …” Augustus’s voice trailed off.
Ear.
Kharon stepped closer so all three of us stood chest to chest. “What are you talking about? What’s going on? Someone explain.”
My tears stopped falling—a fragment of vision came back—Augustus was staring down at me like he’d seen a ghost.
“She’s—” Augustus’s breath hitched. “Partially blind.”
“What?” Kharon stepped back, shaking his head, cuffs rattling. “No, that … that can’t … that can’t be. We would have known if—”
“It’s true.”
My voice sounded far away, like it belonged to someone else.
Neither man moved.
The stadium echoed with murmurs of confusion and shouts for violence.
Kharon lunged forward, his face hovering in front of mine, close enough I could see the silver flecks in his eyes.
“WHY?” he screamed, then his voice dropped to a barely there whisper. “Why … didn’t you tell us that your left eye was … blind?”
“Because—” I cleared my throat. “I’m okay.”
They looked at me with horror.
“I survived,” I said, needing them to understand.
The crowd started shouting slurs, turning violent as they demanded the action we weren’t giving them.
Kharon pressed his trembling lips to my forehead.
We breathed together, deep shaky inhales, for there were no words left to be said.
Augustus leaned in, resting his arms against mine, a mimicry of a hug, all he could do with his hands bound before him.
“THIRD ROUND!” Zeus’s voice boomed, crackling with violence. “FIGHT OR YOU WILL ALL LOSE AND BE brANDED.” He slammed his scepter down on the stone podium, but the sky shone, clear and blue above. The stormy weather had cleared out.
The moment broke.
I pulled back, stumbling away from my husbands.
This was Sparta. We were Chthonics.
There was no choice—we had to fight.
“Defeat me,” I said, waving the heavy rod through the air. Nyx was still invisibly wrapped around it. “Just do it. Get it over with. I can’t …”
“Stab us both,” Augustus ordered as he straightened.
“Excuse me?” I shook my head. “That’s not—”
Augustus looked down at me with pity. “You will defeat us.”
Kharon nodded.
There was no softness left in either of them. They’d donned their Spartan exteriors, the armor they wore to survive in this brutal world.
I wasn’t looking at my husbands.
The eldest heir to the House of War and the Hunter stood before me, merciless, unyielding.
So this was how it was going to go.
Pulling back my shoulders, I straightened to my full height—matching their postures—the heiress to the House of Hades.
“Make me,” I said.
Augustus shook his head sadly.
“I tried to warn you,” resonated loudly inside of my skull.
Kharon bowed to me, like he was saying goodbye. “I love you.” He turned to Augustus. “Handle this. Like we agreed.”
What is he talking about—
Augustus’s eyes glowed as he held my gaze—Kharon dropped to the sand behind him, boneless.
I cried out.
“He’s just unconscious,” the voice said as Augustus took another step closer, scarlet streaking down his face.
“You’re … inside my head,” I said with dawning horror.
“My powers changed because of our bond.” Augustus’s voice was inside my skull. “I can now … push my thoughts into others.”
I heaved.
“Now, wife, end this. Stab me with your weapon.”
I shook my head. “But … but … Kharon’s scars. He doesn’t deserve any more.”
Augustus looked down at me calmly.
“He was never going to let himself win.” His eyes were pools of crimson-filled darkness. “Not against you—you know that.”
“No.” I stepped back, tripping over a dead lion, stumbling away from it, I used my staff to catch myself.
He followed.
“No. No. No,” I repeated as I kept backing away.
Augustus stalked after me, chasing me across the sand with shackles on his hands.
Step after step.
A predator and his favorite prey.
His voice lingered inside my head like an intrusive caress.
There were no winners here.
I slammed back into stone—I glanced around desperately—Augustus had cornered me.
We were at the very edge of the arena.
Zeus’s podium hovered high above us. He stood at the edge, peering down into Hell, watching us.
Nyx slithered off the rod onto my shoulders.
There was nowhere else to run.
Augustus loomed before me, his face stoic.
“Alexis Hert,” he commanded inside my mind. “You will stab me right now.”
“I can’t.” I shook my head desperately, needing him to understand. “My blood … it could kill you.”
He pressed his lips together into a flat line.
“You won’t. You had your chance, and you didn’t.”
“But I could!”
“But you won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you love me, and I love you—stab me. Now.”
“I refuse!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.
“I’m not asking.”
There were no traces left of my gentle husband.
The House of Ares—the House of War—was brutal.
“But … but … but …” I racked my brain, searching for a solution, an escape.
Augustus struck, cuff rattling—he grabbed my right hand and wrist, the one that held the rod—he squeezed, his nails digging painfully into my skin.
“No,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
He slowly rotated my arm until the pointed end of the staff aimed toward him.
Augustus took a step back, still holding my wrist in a punishing grip, the long crimson rod stretched between us, its end wickedly sharp.
“Alexis Hert,” whispered through my skull. “I love you.”
With un-counterable strength, he yanked my arm forward—straight into his heart.
I screamed as he fell to his knees, skewered on the staff.
Desperately, I yanked out the sharp end, touching it gently over the bleeding wound.
I focused on healing.
On the tingling in my hands.
The pain in my chest.
My fingers lit up with white light, the rod glowing brighter as if set on fire from within.
“No, my carus.”
Black eyes flashed as they opened—he smacked the rod away and it slammed against the wall in a sizzling splash of blood.
“No!”
“The greatest honor I’ve ever known … is being your husband. It’s a privilege to be branded for you. Thank you.”
Lashes closed.
Reeling from blood loss and the shock of it all, I tripped over the sand.
Your hands are glowing—heal him yourself.
I stopped and turned back toward Augustus, pure panic making it hard to think. I didn’t know if it would work, but I had to try.
“THE ROUND IS OVER,” Zeus announced.
No!
He jumped down through the force field and landed right next to Augustus, holding Vulcan metal.
Too quickly, Zeus ripped Augustus’s toga open.
Storm-gray eyes met mine as he plunged the brand down onto his unblemished skin and flesh sizzled.
Pure, unadulterated loathing filled me.
Guards swarmed out, picking up Augustus’s limp body, and carrying him away.
I fell to my knees.
Nyx hissed and wrapped around my neck. “Don’t look, kid,” she whispered.
It was too late for me.
Without preamble, Zeus stalked across the sand. He ripped Kharon’s toga open as he grabbed him by his dark hair and lifted his limp body up.
Zeus slammed the brand into his already mangled chest. I clutched my heart.
When Kharon awoke, he’d have another scar.
Fluffy Jr. growled as he stumbled across the sands, turning to stand in front of me, his wings tucked against his back.
Clutching my stomach, I vomited its contents, then I dug my hands into the blood-soaked sand and pushed myself to my feet.
I staggered upright, screaming at the top of my lungs, “I know what you did!”
Zeus stopped walking.
He fisted his hands.
“You’re playing a game that you can’t win,” Zeus said, his back still to me. “If you don’t make it to the gate, you lose.”
He resumed walking away.
Choking on rage, I took a limping step forward, chasing after him.
One foot at a time.
A strange buzzing echoed.
It was clapping.
A new chant started, voices growing in strength, until Sparta was bellowing at the top of its lungs.
“A hero is forged—behold, the twelve labors of Hercules … A hero is forged—behold, the twelve labors of Hercules … A HERO IS FORGED—BEHOLD, THE TWELVE LABORS OF HERCULES.”
Finally, what felt like hours later, I stepped out of the harsh sun, into the shadowy hall of the coliseum, and collapsed on all fours.
Lying on the stone floor, I unzipped my toga pocket and pushed my hand inside—the graphing calculator was warm to the touch.
The odds were always in my favor.
I wanted to curl into a fetal position and sob for Augustus and Kharon, but I was still alive—I could still do this.
As darkness beckoned, my bloodline chanted my name. Hades and Persephone had made me in their image.
Zeus would learn.
I was the heiress to the House of Hades—and hellhounds, not lions, were the top of the food chain.