Chapter 16
The Oracle's house smelled like frying dough, chicory coffee, sugar, and oil. We followed her through rooms crammed full of family photos and mismatched furniture.
A door stood ajar in the hallway. Through the gap, I caught a glimpse of blue monitor light, multiple screens casting shadows across three people hunched over keyboards.
A young man leaned over an old fashioned switch board, maps covering the walls behind him.
One woman spoke rapid French into a headset while her fingers flew across a keyboard.
The door swung shut as we passed, cutting off the view.
The Oracle led us toward the kitchen at the back of the shotgun house, down a hallway barely wide enough for one person.
"I made beignets," she said over her shoulder. "Never know when hungry house guests will pop on by."
She moved further into the kitchen, but she wasn’t alone.
Judge Rhadamanthys was sitting at her kitchen table.
I stiffened, ready to flee, until the Oracle waved her hand. “No fighting in the kitchen, boys. This is neutral territory. The Judge here knows that. And now, so do you.” She waved vaguely at the table. “Go on, now. Have a seat.”
Nobody moved.
"I said sit." She didn't raise her voice, didn't even look at us. Just kept working a round of fresh dough.
We sat. Rafael and I took the chairs on one side of the small table, Rhadamanthys on the other. Diego and Jasper hovered near the doorway, neither quite willing to commit to staying or leaving.
The Oracle poured coffee into mismatched mugs and set them in front of us. The ceramic burned against my palms when I picked mine up, almost too hot to hold. I added sugar, watched it dissolve.
She placed a plate of fresh beignets covered in powdered sugar in the center of the table before settling into the chair. "So, what brings you boys to see me?”
I glared at Rhadamanthys.
“No need to worry about him, boys,” she said. “He’s here for his own reasons.”
“I came seeking counsel,” Rhadamanthys said. “I’m as surprised to see you as you are to see me.”
I grabbed a beignet and tore off a piece. “Long story short, I killed Cardinal Azevedo. He gave me a Judas Coin, which forced me to kill Dionysus. Since he was a Director, the Pantheon wants my blood. I’m looking for a way to end this that doesn’t require me to die.”
“It’s not just the Pantheon that wants him dead,” Rafael supplied. “The Church is hunting both of us as well.”
“The Church and the Pantheon working together.” The Oracle leaned back in her chair. “Now that’s wild.”
“Not as wild as who’s behind it,” I continued.
"Baron Constantine," Rafael said.
I shrugged. “Also known as Judge Minos. Same guy, apparently.”
Rhadamanthys froze.
"He told us Zeus controls both institutions," I added. "That they're two arms of the same body. That he's been consolidating power for decades."
The coffee mug shattered in Rhadamanthys's hand. Coffee and blood spread across the table, mixing with powdered sugar in a mess of white and red and dark liquid.
“Minos is Constantine?” Rhadamanthys’ voice was almost a growl.
"It would seem so," the Oracle said gently.
Rhadamanthys stood. The chair scraped loud against worn linoleum. His hands were shaking. Actually shaking. Blood dripped from his palm to the floor in a steady rhythm.
"The oath is absolute." His voice was hollow. "Judges protect the organization. We uphold the law. We don't use it as a weapon." He looked down at his bleeding hand. "Without that, we're nothing but animals with titles."
"The oath you took was to a system already corrupted," the Oracle said. Her voice stayed calm, gentle even. "Doesn't make the oath less real. Just means you were lied to from the start."
Rhadamanthys turned away from the table and stared out the window at rain falling in the dark. His shoulders were rigid, every line of his body straining against collapse.
The Oracle gave him space and turned her attention back to me.
I reached for another beignet and bit into it, almost groaning at the sweetness. The Oracle watched me for a long moment. Then her expression shifted.
"Dionysus saved you." Her voice changed. Harder now. Sharp. "Took you in when you were feral and half-dead. Fed you. Clothed you. Gave you purpose."
The beignet lodged in my throat, refusing to go down.
"And yet you killed him." She leaned forward, eyes boring into mine. "All those years of protection, of training, of being treated like a son. You ended it in a night club because someone handed you a coin."
My eyes stayed fixed on the table.
"People have refused before," she continued, relentless. "Died rather than betray everything they believed in. But you pulled the trigger. You chose survival over loyalty. Over love." She leaned forward. “What kind of man kills his savior?”
Rafael's chair scraped back as he shot to his feet. "Enough. Lorenzo did what he had to do. You'd have done the same. You don't get to judge him."
The Oracle sat back and smiled.
He stood his ground, shoulders rigid, still facing the Oracle. Completely fearless.
Nobody had ever defended me like that before. And fuck, that made me want him more than any of the violence ever had.
Rhadamanthys made a quiet sound came from near the window. He held his bleeding hand pressed against the glass, head bowed. "Ade..."
The Oracle's expression softened.
Rafael slowly sat back down and wrapped his shaking hands around his coffee mug.
"Thanks," I muttered. "That was very..."
"Stupid?" Rafael suggested.
"I was going to say knight-in-shining-armor, but stupid works too."
His knee brushed mine under the table. Neither of us moved away.
Diego shifted uncomfortably. Jasper pulled out a cigarette, took one drag, and the Oracle gave him a look that could have curdled milk. He stubbed it out.
Rhadamanthys turned from the window. "I need air."
He stormed out of the kitchen and a moment later, the screen door banged shut.
The Oracle stood, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "I'll be back. You boys sit tight," she said and followed him out.
Diego cleared his throat. "Come on, guapo. Let's give them some space."
He grabbed Jasper's arm and pulled him toward the front of the house. Diego stage-whispered back at us, "We'll just be in the other room. Not listening. Definitely not listening."
Then it was just me and Rafael in the Oracle's kitchen.
Rafael stared at his untouched coffee. His mouth was tight, hands trying to strangle the mug.
"Thank you," I said.
His eyes came up to meet mine. "For what?"
"For defending me. Back there. With the Oracle." My throat went tight. "Nobody's ever done that before."
"She was out of line."
"Maybe. But she wasn't wrong." I reached for another beignet just to have something to do with my hands. "I did kill him. I did choose to live instead of dying with honor."
"You were manipulated." Rafael's voice came out rough. "Constantine gave Azevedo that coin and set this whole thing up. You didn't have a choice."
"I had a choice. Die or kill him. I chose."
"That's not a choice. That's a trap." His hands tightened on the mug.
"I don’t blame you for what happened to my father.
Not any more. My father is dead because Constantine manipulated both of us.
Because the system we served used us as weapons against each other.
Because we were never supposed to be people, just tools. "
"You really believe that?"
"I'm trying to." He finally looked at me. His eyes were red-rimmed, exhausted. "I'm trying to hold both things at once. That I'm grieving him. That I'll never stop grieving him. And that you were forced into an impossible situation."
"That's not forgiveness."
"No. But maybe it's a start." His hand moved across the table, stopping just short of touching mine. "I don't know how to do this, Lorenzo. I don't know how to grieve him and want you at the same time. How to hate what happened and not hate you for it."
"Is that why you've been pushing me away?"
"Yes." The admission came out barely above a whisper. "Every time I look at you, I see him dying. But I also see you. And I can't reconcile those two things. So I just... shut down."
My hand moved across the table and took his. His fingers were cold, trembling slightly. "You don't have to reconcile them. Not yet. Maybe not ever."
"Then what do we do?"
"We survive." I squeezed his hand. "We deal with Constantine. And we figure out the rest after."
"And if we don't survive?"
"Then at least we'll die fighting instead of running."
"That doesn't make it easier."
"Nothing about this is easy." I let go of his hand. "But it’ll be worth it.”
The screen door opened. The Oracle came back in, soaking wet, her crimson scarf dripping. She wrung out her scarf over the sink and grabbed a towel. "He has something to tell you."
Rhadamanthys followed her in holding his wet hat against his chest. "There's a way out of this," he said without preamble. "Trial by combat. Ancient law that predates the Pantheon itself. You’ll have to earn the right to challenge a Judge. If you win, your crimes are forgiven."
I swallowed. "And if we lose?"
"You die in the attempt. But you were dead anyway, so what do you have to lose?" He smirked. "The trial takes place in the labyrinth beneath Villa del Priorato di Malta. You'll need three Director seals to invoke it. Blood seals."
I exhaled slowly. "Where do we get three Director seals?"
"Hades will help you." He looked down at his bleeding hand. "If I ask him... he'll listen."
Jasper stepped forward. Metal clinked softly as he placed something on the table between us.
The metal disc was roughly the size of a silver dollar, tarnished black except where blood had been pressed into its carved surface.
The design showed a hammer crossed over tongs, an anvil beneath, all rendered in dried crimson that had seeped into every groove and line. The blood looked old, years old.
Jasper said nothing. Just stood there with his arms crossed, cigarette dangling from his lips.
"Hephaestus's seal," Rhadamanthys said quietly, something like respect in his voice.
"Is that allowed?" I looked between them. "You're not a Director anymore."
Jasper's expression didn't change, but something flickered in those pale eyes that might have been hurt or anger or both.
Rhadamanthys studied the seal, then shrugged. "There's nothing in the ancient texts that specifies the Director must still hold their position. Only that three Director seals are required. Hephaestus's seal is as good as any. Better, perhaps. It's been consecrated in fire and blood."
"One down," Rhadamanthys said. "Two to go."
The Oracle smiled. "See? Not so hard."
Rhadamanthys kept his eyes on me and Rafael.
"I'm doing this for two reasons. First, Minos may be within his rights to do as he’s doing, even if he is acting against the spirit of the law. But what he’s doing is wrong.
It violates everything I believe in, every oath we’ve taken.
And secondly, I’m helping you because love stories are too rare to waste.
And watching yours get destroyed by a corrupt system. .." He didn't finish. Didn't need to.
"Thank you," I said.
"Don't thank me yet. You still have to survive the labyrinth. Constantine will bring everything he has. He has two trained eagles that can see in the dark and talons that will rip your face off. And you’ll be chained together. Somehow, you’ll have to find your way out of a labyrinth. Together."
My stomach dropped. Chained together in a magical death maze. No escape routes. No solo victories. Work together or die.
Rafael had gone completely still beside me.
Rhadamanthys stepped back. "I’ll speak to Hades on your behalf and set up a meeting, but… Be wary. Everyone who helps you is putting their lives at risk."
"I understand," I said.
"I hope you do, Piccolo." He moved toward the door, then stopped and turned back.
"One piece of advice." He looked at Rafael, and his voice cracked slightly. "Don't wait. Don't think you have time to figure it out, to do it right, to be ready. You never have as much time as you think. I thought we had forever. We had three months."
Then he walked out into the rain and disappeared into the darkness.
The Oracle watched him go through the window. When she turned back to us, old grief softened her expression.
"Tragic what happened to the man he loved once," she said quietly. "The boy was murdered for his engagement ring. Lagos bled in the weeks that followed, but no amount of killing could bring him back."
The kitchen went quiet.
Under the table, Rafael's fingers tangled with mine and squeezed.
I didn't pull away.