Chapter 2
Chapter two
THANATOS
Thanatos stood on a nearby roof, his wings brushing softly as he held them tight against his back. He observed his charge as the human’s car rolled to a stop. She emerged, shuffling as if a heavy burden sat on her shoulders.
He could feel her exhaustion, unnatural and clinging, from where he watched. Everything about her suggested fragility, yet strength hummed through her. The contrast set his teeth on edge.
She looked around as if she sensed him. That shouldn’t be possible. Mortals couldn’t notice him unless he revealed himself, yet she stared at the rooftop where he stood.
Was the curse doing this to her? Or had Athena left out more than he thought?
The goddess’ instructions had been vague: protect the girl using any means necessary. Why hold back information that might help him?
Some mortals could sense the divine. But even that didn’t explain Athena’s interest. Most gods had long since abandoned their fascination with humanity.
Why was she so different?
He’d seen humans crushed under grief. Many grew desperate when they lost everything, but grief itself wasn’t unnatural. Death was neither cruel nor kind. It simply was. He didn’t pity those who surrendered to it.
What wasn’t natural was choosing to step into the afterlife before fate called for you.
Watching grated against his nature, making him restless. His role was never to prevent death, only to shepherd souls when their time came. That deviation frustrated him.
When she disappeared inside, Thanatos flew across the street. The nondescript five-story building stood out only because of its occupant. He landed on the fire escape, following her hurried steps, labored breaths, and the slam of the door.
He extended his senses beyond sight and sound. She wasn’t ill or diseased. There was only exhaustion clinging to her. It was more than grief. More than simple weariness.
Yet her life force burned strong. The Fates hadn’t severed her thread.
She sighed quietly, just audible through the glass, ruffling his feathers—an irritation he quickly suppressed. He reached out mentally to the only being who might understand.
“What do you need, Than?” Hypnos asked through a yawn.
“Athena asked me for a favor.”
“Since when do the Twelve ask us for anything that doesn’t come with a catch?”
Exactly.
“I have to protect a human. She told me to use any help I could find.”
“Why would they keep one human alive? And what could threaten a human that would take more than a god or even a hero to handle?” Hypnos asked.
Thanatos didn’t have the answers, so he pushed on. “I told her I would not prevent or delay the human’s death if her time had come.”
Athena had accepted his condition. She insisted it wasn’t the girl’s time. If a curse had already taken others before their fated end, he should have known. Had Athena been misinformed, or had his absence let something slip through unnoticed?
It troubled him that the gods, long distanced from mortals, were watching a girl with no divine blood or prophesied fate.
“This is concerning, Hyp. One of the Twelve is intervening in a mortal’s life, and they believe I am not enough to protect her.”
His twin said nothing.
He moved his attention to the city. Tucson’s skyline lay before him, a simple collection of structures that barely breached the horizon, framed by the rich colors of the desert sunset.
The streets were active but not crowded, people moving between restaurants and shops, but no one stood out.
He expanded his senses, searching for anything unnatural. A presence that didn’t belong.
Nothing. Only the steady hum of mortal life. A few deaths neared, souls that he would guide soon, but none of them troubled him.
They weren’t hers.
As he waited for his brother’s response, Thanatos focused on the girl. Through the walls, he could hear her speaking. Not to herself, but to her deceased mother. The one-sided conversation was soft and filled with grief. “I know you want me to be strong, but it’s just so hard without you.”
Was she hallucinating, or comforting herself by talking to the dead?
“You know I’ll help, but what if it takes more than the two of us? Did Athena give you any actual information? Any hint of what kind of danger the human is facing?”
Thanatos tensed. “Nothing.”
Hypnos had barely escaped retribution once before, and Athena knew it. Of course she did. And she was using that information to protect a human girl. That alone told him that this task was far more significant and dangerous than she’d let on.
“I think it will take more than the two of us,” Thanatos admitted. “Do you have any idea who would bother to help?”
“Ani?” Hypnos suggested, bringing up their mutual friend.
“Not a bad idea,” he agreed. “I will track him down and ask when I get back.”
Thanatos glanced toward the girl’s window. She’d moved into another room. A few moments later, her soft, even breaths told him she was asleep. Good. That would make things easier. He’d wait until dark, then take her somewhere safer than an apartment building among humans.
“I will stay in touch when I have the girl.”
He severed the connection with Hypnos and stretched, shifting his weight on the metal structure.
He flexed his wings, letting the wind stir his feathers.
To pass the time, he checked in on his responsibilities.
He monitored the collection of souls and ensured the dead reached their proper destination. Everything was in order. It always was.
As the sun disappeared, movement from the human’s apartment caught his attention. A figure moved in front of the window, and his jaw tensed as the moment passed.
So much for taking her while she slept. Now he’d have to change the way he approached her. He would stay alert. Gather information. Adapt.
The front door of her apartment opened, but didn’t close. That was odd. He focused on her footsteps as she moved down the hallway. To the stairs. She wasn’t heading downstairs. He tilted his head. No, she was going up.
His frown deepened. Perhaps she was visiting someone on the upper floor. The lack of hesitation nagged at him. She wasn’t stopping, and she was going higher.
Thanatos landed on the rooftop, wings folding against his back. As he scanned the roof, he noted the swinging chairs and potted foliage sway slightly in the breeze. He was alone.
His focus snapped to the opening door.
The human stepped through slowly, her movements jerky, as though something was guiding her. The exhaustion on her face was gone. Now, her eyes were empty.
His muscles coiled as he prepared to act. For what, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t ignore the urgent dread filling him. He noted her simple T-shirt as she moved past him. The cool air should’ve chilled her exposed skin, but it didn’t.
She moved toward the edge with horrifying precision. His instincts demanded that he intervene, but if this was the curse, stopping her now might only delay the inevitable. He debated making himself known, but he held back, unsure if his presence would break the spell or trigger it.
As Thanatos struggled to choose between intervention and observation, another face came to mind. Another life he’d hesitated to save.
She moved onto the ledge.
Fates, damn it.
He appeared behind her, wings concealed yet ready to move if needed. “This is not the answer. Come down.”
The woman ignored him. Time slowed as her foot moved out toward empty air.
He leapt forward. His arms wrapped around her waist, yanking her back against him before she plummeted.
As he held her, her warmth, along with her steady heartbeat, sent an unexpected thrill through him. Fragile. Mortal. Nothing like the souls he carried. Alive.
A memory surged—centuries old—of a woman whose defiance had burned bright, only to go limp in his arms. He shook his head, banishing it and focusing on the living mortal. She was safe. He hadn’t failed.
Thanatos set her back on her feet, holding her steady. He searched for signs that the Fates had destined her for death.
It wasn’t her time.
He turned her to face him. “What were you thinking?”
She didn’t flinch or respond at all. He tilted her chin up and met a cold, empty gaze. This wasn’t despair or an attempt to end her own life. This was more sinister.
His irritation cooled into something more calculated. Clearly, he couldn’t trust her on her own. At least in this state, she wouldn’t fight him.
“Trying to jump off the gods-damned roof,” he muttered, more to himself than her. “What happened to you?”
She didn’t register his words or seem to be aware of anything.
His frustration deepened. He had no answers, only more questions, but the growing anxiety about her condition pressed him to act. She needed safety. A place where he could watch over her, and where Hypnos might find answers he couldn’t.
He lifted her gently, cradling her close. Her stillness mixed with the bright fragrance of cinnamon and honey was disconcerting.
Without another thought, he willed them both invisible. Spreading his wings, he took to the skies. He would need permission to take her into the Underworld, and there was only one god who could grant it.
But what would Hades demand in return?