Chapter 80
Wake Up
LYRA
“Lyra.” Someone is shaking my shoulder. “Lyra,” they whisper in my ear.
“Go away,” I think I mumble.
Despite my goddess healing, Hera’s Lock really took it out of me. More mentally than physically, but still.
“Lyra.” This person is not going to let me sleep.
I crack a bleary eye to find Phoebe leaning over me, holding her long, silky hair out of the way. Her anxious face eases when I stir. “Oh good, you’re awake.”
“I am now,” I say pointedly.
She doesn’t seem to notice my grumpiness. “Come with me.” She’s still whispering.
I drag myself off the floor, through the room of sleeping Titans, and out into the hallway. I roll my stiff right shoulder and crack my neck.
Phoebe leaves me there to go back in, and when she returns, it’s with Boone. I think I know what this is about now. But I still try to ask. “What—”
She holds a finger to her lip, then waves at us to follow. We don’t go far, only around the bend, and we stop at the sight of a new crack in time hovering there as if it’s been waiting for me.
I look from it to Phoebe, who shifts on her feet. “How did you know?”
She shrugs. “I can feel them sometimes.”
Interesting.
I share a glance with a sleep-rumpled Boone, who is now wide awake. Thief ready. “Are you sure you want to—”
“You’re not talking me out of going,” he insists.
“Me neither.” We all spin at the sound of Persephone’s voice to find her at the bend in the tunnel. She must’ve followed us out.
Boone’s scowl could strip rust off a bucket that’s been rained on every day for a decade. “Go back to bed.”
Her chin sticks out stubbornly, suddenly reminding me of me. “No. You’re not the only ones who need answers.”
Boone isn’t giving in. “No—”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
He crosses his arms. “You’ve visited enough past lives.”
I sigh. “I’m getting really tired of you two not talking whatever this is out.”
They both turn to me like their heads are on swivels. Then Boone shoots Persephone a considering look, which she returns with raised eyebrows.
“Later,” he says.
“Yeah, right,” Persephone mutters. Spring-and-sunshine woman knows how to mutter.
I like her a little better for that. Perfection is hard to trust.
Meanwhile, that fracture of time doesn’t move, like it’s waiting for us to decide. No way is that thing not being controlled by someone or something.
“I’m coming,” Persephone insists. “I can help.”
“You weren’t there,” I tell the goddess gently. “In my past. Not that I ever saw. And I think if Hades had ever caught sight of you, things would have turned out differently.”
She looks from me to Boone and then back again. “I thought you’d be on my side,” she whispers at me. She’s quiet another second, and I see when the truth wins and she deflates just the tiniest bit. “Okay,” she says softly.
Like he can’t get away from her fast enough, Boone grabs my hand, tugging me toward the waiting break. “Let’s get this over with.”
I go first.
But just as I step inside, I hear Boone grunt, and then he’s gone. Not holding on to me at all. The silence and pressure clamp down, and when sound returns and my vision clears, he’s not with me.
I have to swallow my gasp at where I am. Somehow, I manage to not make a single sound as I stare in dawning horror through the barely-open door in front of me.
I’m outside my bedroom in Hades’ home in Olympus. Past Lyra is in her bed, asleep in Hades’ arms.
I don’t have to question when this is, but I never remembered him being there with me. I remember making love in the water garden in Erebos. I remember waking up the next morning alone in my cold bed. But not this part. Not him.
The last piece of my puzzle falls into place.
He once told me that I instructed him to break my heart. That early trip through time to the night after Athena’s Labor when I yelled at him before I knew what was going on.
He told me. I’m the one who told him to break my heart.
It’s got to be now that I do that.
I scowl at the black-painted wood door, debating exactly how to handle this, since past me is involved.
I’m no astrophysicist or time travel expert, so I have no idea if seeing future me is going to make past me lose her shit, or if it will create world-ending paradoxes or maybe some kind of time wormhole.
But at the very least, I’m pretty sure it will make time reset, because after Mnemosyne showed me how that works, now I don’t think anybody could mentally handle that.
However…
I do happen to know that I never saw myself wandering around my bedroom. That’s the only reason I’m trying this. I’m assuming future me did this to past me then, too.
Pushing the door open wider is easy enough.
Hades keeps his house well oiled. Or maybe it’s that any house of a god is not going to do what mortal houses do and age or deteriorate.
They wouldn’t dare. That’s something I’ll have to find out later, hopefully when I figure out how to get out of Tartarus.
In the meantime, I do have a few thief skills still in my back pocket, and getting in and out of rooms quietly is one of them.
Why did I have to find out this information so late?
I could have told Hades sooner and not be hanging my life and future on this bad rom-com, comedy-of-errors maneuver.
As soon as I have the door open just wide enough, I go from my knees to all fours and slink my way into the room and along the side of the bed where I know Hades is lying. Holding my breath, and as careful as I can be, I poke my head up to make sure that it’s him.
He’s sleeping on his side, facing away from me, I think maybe with an arm possessively wrapped around past Lyra’s stomach.
I seem to remember the weight of him, the comfort of that sensation that night.
His entire body is curled around me protectively…
possessively…in a way that I think past me would have liked to have felt before he shredded her heart.
He’s so…relaxed. I can tell from the lines of his body, the pattern of his deep breathing. And I don’t think it’s just because of slumber. The way he’s holding past me, it’s like the only way he can sleep is with me in his arms.
I can’t help how my gaze softens on his back, and my belly turns a little squishy at the sight.
Move your ass, Lyra.
I need to wake him up in such a way that he doesn’t jerk or, worse, leap into some kind of defensive move. Because that will definitely wake Lyra up.
Can’t have that.
But I don’t think gently whispering in his ear is going to make him all that much less defensive.
I bite my lip, debating my options, but there’s only one thing I can think to do.
The question is, will the god of death allow himself to be teleported by anyone with no warning or permission?
I mean, the fact that I’ve managed to sneak in here at all without him noticing is a bloody miracle.
I’m pretty sure I’m about to piss him off royally. Hopefully he doesn’t kill me before figuring out who I am.
Right. Teleporting.
I study the way he’s lying, searching for a body part to hold on to.
I don’t want to lose him in the process of taking us away.
Unfortunately, turned away from me as he is, all he’s presenting is his broad back.
It’d be better if I could grab him by the hand or the wrist. I’d even take an ankle, but that’s under the sheets.
Damn.
The flaws of this plan are growing by the second.
So get moving, Lyra.
The longer I stay here, the worse it gets for all three of us. My best bet is to try to wrap my hand around the scruff of his neck and hold on. Maybe I should grab him with two hands, just so I don’t accidentally lose him.
To get close enough, I have to stand, looming over our sleeping forms in the dark.
Slowly and silently, I reach for the back of his neck, and I’m focusing so hard on not making a sound or disturbing the bed in any way that I don’t see it coming when a big hand suddenly grabs my wrist and we teleport instantly away.
When we blink back into existence, I’m immediately spun and yanked hard against him, my back against his chest. The hand holding my wrist crosses my shoulders, and his other arm comes around my waist and pins me tight. “You dare come anywhere near what is mine?”