Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
THANATOS
What in the hell is Anastasia doing here? My Anastasia is trapped with a psychopath.
“Oh, we’re going to have so much fun.” That haunting laughter filled the air and sent goosebumps over my entire body. I wanted to reveal myself to Anastasia and use my power to take her from here. But even being close to her would earn Hades’ wrath.
Hades be damned.
“Run,” I whispered to Anastasia, praying that somehow she would hear my words.
Her eyes widened and she turned on the spot and sprinted down the hallway.
Her long chocolatey hair whipped around her body in tangled wet strands.
She was slightly different than her previous versions, with wild hair and sharp spring green eyes the color of grassy fields, but I would forever recognize her.
Her lips were fuller, her cheek bones slightly sharper, but that spirit burned bright within her.
It called to me, and I hurried after her.
A whirling mechanical sound came from the wall beside her head. “Duck!”
Anastasia dropped to one knee just as an axe flew from a hidden opening in the wall right over her head.
It slammed into the stone wall on the other side of the hall, embedding itself there.
I knew she couldn’t see me, but somehow our connection flared to life, and I moved closer. “Run Anastasia, run!”
She pressed her hand to her chest and sucked in a deep breath, glancing around. When she didn’t budge, I tried again. “I said RUN!”
She sucked in a sharp breath and then sprang into action, pumping her arms and hurrying down the hall. A trip wire shot up from the floor. It was dark-gray and blended in with the stone floor. Before I could warn her, she leapt over it. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Arrowheads poked out from the wall. She was moving too fast, not seeing them.
I leapt in front of her just as three of them fired in her direction.
I knocked one to the side, forcing it to fly over her head, and the other I smacked to the ground.
The last broke against my chest and fell to the floor at my feet.
I turned back to Anastasia as she narrowed her eyes at the misfired arrows.
But there was no time to linger, and she ran toward the end of the hall.
“To the right,” I urged her. She turned left. “Damn it.”
Eerie laughter sounded all around us and Anastasia froze.
Her chest heaved with gasping breaths. She slung her backpack from her shoulder and placed it on the ground.
She riffled through it and pulled out a hunting knife.
It was as large as her forearm with a wickedly curved blade that glinted in the torch light.
“Alright, you freak, where the hell are you?” She dropped her pack onto the floor and marched around another corner toward a brightly lit doorway.
“No, don’t go to face her.” I fought not to make myself corporeal and step in front of her.
Anastasia tightened the grip on the hilt of the knife. A growl rumbled in the back of her throat. “Come out. This isn’t American Horror Story. I’m not running around this bloody castle just to wear myself out. You wanna kill me, then you better have the balls to do it face-to-face.”
She stepped through the open doorway into the light, and I hurried to her side.
We were now in a wide-open throne room with a small dais at the front of it.
Empty holding cells lined the walls, each one was now home to some kind of poisonous flower.
They were an array of colors and shapes.
Just standing here I knew that if Anastasia even brushed against one of those, she’d die instantly.
A single throne sat in the center of the space and a small figure was perched there.
She was dressed in a black turtleneck, straight black pants, and combat boots.
Her midnight hair was braided into a faux-hawk down the center of her head.
Her eyes were onyx, bottomless depths. She rested a sword across her legs and smirked at Anastasia with a cold, deadly smile.
Panic assailed my body at the sight of the tiny terror before us.
“What the hell is this?” Anastasia’s voice was calm and stern.
“Apparently you’re trying to rob me.” She jumped up off the throne with a bounce in her step and held her thin sword out in front of her, pointing it toward Anastasia.
Anastasia raised her blade and sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly. “I’m not robbing you. I’m a curator, and it looks like you have something that doesn’t belong to you.”
“Take a look around you, pet.” She waved her sword back and forth. “This whole island belongs to me, and everything on it is mine.”
Anastasia shrugged. “Feels a bit excessive, doesn’t it?”
She threw her head back, chuckling. “I’m going to like you.”
“I wish I could say the same.”
They began to circle each other when those wide dark eyes met mine and she winked in my direction. Could she see me? She lunged forward. Anastasia stood her ground, blocking the attack with her own dagger. “I love it when guests BYOW.”
Anastasia staggered back holding her dagger out in front of her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Bring. Your. Own. Weapon.” She chuckled and spun around, swinging for Anastasia’s throat.
I reached out toward her, about to yank her back, but Anastasia arched her back and the blade soared over her bent body.
A large punching bag swung like a wrecking ball from the ceiling right toward her.
She twisted to the side and stabbed her knife into the punching bag.
Another bag swung from the ceiling toward her, and she took a step back, barely dodging it.
More bags were sent loose, and she was spinning and twisting to avoid being hit, all the while blocking sword strikes.
“I like your style.”
Anastasia growled, “This isn’t a game. Let me go.”
“Umm, not yet.” The woman chuckled and didn’t seem breathless at all.
One of those punching bags smacked into Anastasia’s side, forcing her to stagger back and catch herself on a set of cell bars.
Her finger nearly brushed the deadly flower there.
I couldn’t take it anymore. This had to stop before she got hurt.
I didn’t want to leave her but there was only one person who could stop this, and I needed him.
I closed my eyes and let my power wash over me.
I sorted through all the threads of souls I could track down and found the one that matched the woman attacking my Anastasia.
I let myself ghost through space until I came to a sharp stop in a library.
It was warmly lit and the stacks were kept in neat order.
The books were old and worn but well cared for.
I spun around and found him leaning back in a chair with one foot up on the table.
I ran my hand over myself, letting my blue and black sparks cover my body.
I went from intangible to tangible in moments.
I hurried right for Cross and wrapped my hands in the lapels of his shirt.
He was the only one who could help me now.
Three other guys at the table shot to their feet.
Magic of all sorts swirled around them. Yet I knew them all better than they knew me.
Tuck, was tall and imposing with auburn hair and flames running up and down his arms. Beckett was just as tall with bright-blond hair and blue smoke flowing onto the floor around him.
I shook the man in my hands. “I need your help.”
His brow furrowed and he narrowed his golden eyes at me. “What does the God of Death want with me?”
“Maze.” Was the only one who didn’t jump the moment I became visible.
“Thanatos.” He nodded in my direction, then held his hand out to the other two who still hadn’t relaxed. Neon-green smoke flowed all around him and his eyes turned milky white. “Let him go.”
“Seriously?” Cross tried to pull free from my grip but I wouldn’t let go.
“See you later, Cross.” Maze chuckled.
I let my power surround us both and we turned ghostly, flowing through space and time.
“You can let go of me now,” he said while we moved through space and time. I dropped my hands but kept my power moving. We were running out of time, and I needed to get back to Anastasia. He straightened his shirt. “What’s this about?”
I swallowed. “Your soulmate seems to be hunting mine.”
He scoffed. “And you left? Dude, hate to break it to you, but your girl is already dead.”
I ground my teeth together and found myself grabbing his shirt once more and yanking him to me. “She damn well better not be.”
I came to stop in the throne room just as Anastasia was flat on her back with the woman standing over her with her sword raised. Cross chuckled and called out, “Ophelia, what the hell are you doing?”
Ophelia froze and took a small step back. “Making friends.”
“We don’t kill our friends, love.” He stepped away from me and marched over to her.
It never ceased to amaze me that this battle-worn warlock was the only one who could get through to Ophelia.
By all accounts she was the perfect assassin.
I would know—I’d met most of her victims. They never saw her coming.
“Maze said you were supposed to train her, not kill her.”
She motioned to a wide-eyed Anastasia. “Does she look dead to you, Cross?”
The color drained from Anastasia’s face, and she pointed toward Cross. “Where did you come from?”
Then she turned to me and grew even paler. “You.”
I sighed. “Me.”