27. Artemis
27 ARTEMIS
It’s actually kind of fun watching Reese’s face as we drive up to Olympus.
And then again, even behind our masks, as we are waved through the huge doors by boar-masked employees and step into the large atrium.
We’re at the tail end of the admittance window, which means most of the guests are already present.
So many different masks, people of varying ages and genders.
They’re all a blur of a crowd and individual in their own right.
I’m on Reese’s arm, mine threaded through his and my hand on his forearm.
As if this was a Victorian era instead of Ancient Greece—or modern society.
Saint follows like a shadow.
His mask is made of bronze wings.
Hermes, the messenger god.
When he hosts, he has a staff of a similar make.
Saint has designed all the masks for Jace as Hades, Wolfe as Ares, and Apollo.
As himself. He designed a litany of masks for Kora, too, especially when the guys were getting to know her.
It was fun to see how different they could spin the theme of Persephone to match their own gods.
He designed one singular mask for me, back when Olympus was surging in popularity.
He said something similar about not wanting me to have a generic mask, but I suspected it was Nyx’s doing.
Now, I’m not so sure.
He designed many masks, including hers.
He was right there with her for the first Olympus fight night.
He’s been here longer than anyone…
I shiver, and Reese tucks me closer against him.
It seems automatic, and a part of my brain seriously balks.
I shouldn’t be letting him get this close to me.
“All these people pay to get in,” Reese marvels.
“To watch… fighting?”
I nod.
My brother appears at the top of the stairs on the left.
The left and right sides meet at the center landing.
He comes down with his staff, with his bare, gold-painted chest, his mask of horns and bone.
“Welcome to Olympus,” he booms. “I’m Apollo, your host for the evening.”
Pause .
His gaze sweeps through the room and lands on me.
Then Reese.
His fingers flex on the staff, and it’s his only tell that he’s upset.
Or annoyed. Or angry.
Maybe a combination of all three?
Either way, I’m going to hear about it later.
“We have an unusual predicament tonight, ladies and gentlemen,” he continues.
He isn’t shouting, and yet his voice carries.
“One of our fighters is ill. His opponent is requesting we find a suitable replacement.”
I suck in a breath and reach back for Saint.
I grip his wrist, willing him to not volunteer.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t try to shake me off either.
“What are the odds it’s Kade?” Saint says in my ear.
“Not the sick one—the one who wants a replacement?”
Reese twitches.
Fuck .
“Anyone?” Apollo drawls.
“Our requirements are not normally so… lax. As I said: unusual circumstances.”
“I will.” Reese’s voice rings out from beside me.
I close my eyes, then force them open.
I stare up at him, daring him to take it back.
But you can’t unring a bell.
Saint moves closer, prying my hand away from Reese.
Freeing him enough for him to slip out of my grasp and move through the crowd.
They part for him—but why wouldn’t they?
He’s a hulking guy in a mask of fire.
Of course they would rush to clear a path.
Apollo meets him at the bottom step.
They talk for a moment, and I turn to glare at Saint.
“You wanted him to volunteer,” I accuse.
He shrugs. His blue eyes are dark tonight, but the burn in his gaze is no less potent.
“I think he should prove himself before you go falling all over him.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“You think that’s what this is?”
He goes back to watching Apollo, who has shooed off Reese toward the fighter’s corridor with a boar-masked employee, and he has retaken his position on the stairs.
“It’s not,” I tell him.
“Reese and I have history, and it’s not the good kind.”
Saint ignores me.
I ignore him back, shaking off his hand from my wrist and moving backward.
I shift behind a couple, then another.
By the time he turns to check for me, I’m well and truly out of sight.
Apollo finishes his speech and slams his staff into the floor.
Smoke rises around him, and he’s gone when it clears.
I give Saint a bubble and head for the stairs.
I squeeze around people, hurrying to one of the balcony boxes.
I plant myself in the corner of one and look across to where Hades, Ares, and Persephone—better known as Jace, Wolfe, and Kora—are taking their seats.
Wolfe pulls Kora down on his lap, his hands settling at her hip and thigh.
Her mask is back to springtime flowers, a mix of pink carnations and white roses.
Her dress is baby pink, and it would be demure if not for the cut of it.
It stops at her upper thigh, exposing her pale legs.
“Can I join you?” someone asks.
I glance over my shoulder and squint.
The voice should’ve been my first clue.
“Malik,” I greet him.
“What brings you here?”
He leans on the wide marble railing, staring down at the people who prefer to be on the ground level.
Usually that’s me, wanting to be right up close to the action.
Tonight, I think I need the railing to hold me up.
“Antonio asked me to check on you.”
I cough.
“No, he didn’t.”
The old man does not like Malik.
Never warmed up to him, barely musters the energy to be polite.
It’s kind of funny, really.
There are only a few people living that stay on Antonio’s shit list no matter what they do, and the Hell Hounds’ leader is one of them.
“No, he didn’t,” Malik agrees with a smile.
“But he did ask me who Kade Laurent is.”
That, I would believe.
You don’t have to like someone to know when they have information.
“Can I get any peace?” I groan.
The answer is no.
Antonio should not be going to the freaking Hell Hounds.
Reese shouldn’t be fighting.
Kade shouldn’t be sneaking around behind my back.
Saint shouldn’t be… well, I don’t know what Saint is doing or not doing, just that I don’t really like it.
Or maybe I do like it, and I won’t admit it.
Nope—I don’t like it.
End of fucking story.
“Reese Avery.”
I cringe.
“What about him?”
“He didn’t leave town.”
“No, of course not. He’s not the type to be bullied by a few bikers.” I peek at Malik.
“Using your favor against me like that is poor taste.”
His mask is emerald green, but I can’t think of a single Greek god who corresponds to that color.
It’s more akin to the fighting masks—fabric instead of plastic, so it doesn’t cut when you’re getting punched in the face—instead of the finer ones the guests wear.
Knowing him, he didn’t actually pick it with the intention of emulating a god.
“But he’s not at his apartment anymore. Landlord said it’s been emptied out.”
I hum.
Am I keeping a fugitive?
“You seem awfully interested, seeing as how I asked you to find him and you fulfilled your promise.”
He scoffs.
“You said you’d stay away from him.”
“And I did.” Until I didn’t .
“Okay, Artemis.” His tone even says he doesn’t believe me.
I focus across the opening to the other balcony.
There is Saint, staring at me and Malikai.
I heave a sigh. “Go away, would you?”
Malik chuckles.
“Anything you want.”
Thankfully, he goes.
Right in time for Apollo to get through the introductions and the first pair of fighters to walk out.
I missed their names, but it doesn’t really matter.
It’s not Reese.
Or Kade.
I watch the fight with an analytical eye.
The two guys dive right into it, and soon the platform is sprayed with a mist of blood.
“What did he want?” Saint asks, stepping up beside me.
“Oh, you’re speaking to me again?”
“Artemis.”
“Saint.” I wish he had a longer version of his name.
Something better than Saint .
Did his mother know she had birthed a demon?
Is that why she named him that?
It’s a sick form of irony, really.
“You tell me, or I tell your brother what happened.”
My scowl is lost on him behind the mask.
“I need to tell him, regardless.”
“Uh-huh.”
Jace is an expert at dealing with shit.
And the emergence of a new gang is the epitome of shit .
“How have they not gone into West Falls? You’d think they would be attacked, too.” His words are nearly lost by a groaning reaction of the crowd.
“But they attack you twice, and someone says you’re marked…”
“I wasn’t even riding my bike the second time,” I add.
Just my helmet, and that’s nondescript.
“So it’s not just me. It could be any of us.”
“Reese got in and out.”
“You did, too. Walking , no less.”
“I got in, but that doesn’t mean I would’ve made it out.”
That’s fair.
I hold up my hand. “Me and Apollo, then, for sure.” I tick two fingers.
“Do we assume Jace and Wolfe? You?”
“I don’t know.”
Not helpful.
I’m distracted, though, by a falling body.
Not unconscious—the guy falls off the platform.
He hits the floor with a crack, the crowd leaping away to avoid him.
He scrambles to his feet, but suddenly Apollo is there.
He uses the staff to separate them.
“Fighter, you lose by forfeit. Exiting the platform is immediate disqualification.”
The crowd boos.
It was an intense fight, and I think the other literally roundhouse kicked him in the chest. That’s hard to absorb without going flying.
“Do you think Reese found Kade back there?”
I glance at Saint.
“You care?”
“I’m curious. I didn’t meet Kade, except for those brief moments. But I didn’t like him.”
“You don’t like anyone.”
He dips his head.
“I’m a good judge of character, Artemis. Most people are just full of shit.”
Ugh.
“What about Reese?”
“He stepped up to the plate, so…” He seems to debate.
“We’ll see how he handles this little reunion. Did he say how he knew Kade?”
“That’s the one thing he didn’t elaborate on.”
Saint grunts.
There’s another pair of fighters next.
Two women. One wears all white.
She comes with her husband, I think.
I like her style, which is more aggressive than mine.
She comes out on top, her opponent dazed and staring blankly at the ceiling from the floor.
“This is it.” Saint straightens.
Apollo retakes the platform, and his gaze finds mine.
When he announces Prometheus as our late entry, the crowd erupts.
Turns out, they like someone who impulsively decides to fight.
Just another Saturday night in Sterling Falls.
He strides out in just his pants.
Shirt gone. Mask exchanged for a plain black one.
My mouth drops open of its own accord.
Reese is ripped . His muscles flex with every step, from his veiny biceps and traps to his tight abdomen, even his freaking chest. I stare with a new appreciation, because with a shirt on he doesn’t really look like this.
Granted, I don’t think I’ve seen him in short sleeves.
Those muscles definitely would’ve been a red flag.
Green flag?
I swear, I’m not drooling.
Although I run my thumb under my bottom lip just to make sure.
He circles the platform, gazing at the crowd on his level.
Searching. Then it lifts, and he finds Saint and me in record time.
He winks, but I don’t have it in me to gesture back.
Like… what if Kade beats the shit out of him?
“It could not be Kade,” Saint says.
“We could be wrong.”
I roll my eyes.
“Naturally, that’s your conclusion. That this is all for nothing, and you goaded him into a fight with a stranger.”
“I didn’t say that,” he mutters.
“It’s just an option.”
“Back from last month,” Apollo’s voice rings out, “please welcome… Atlas!”
Also known as: Kade Laurent.
I glare at my brother.
Then Saint, who’s in the process of eating his words. Fucker .