Chapter 57 #2
The woman’s eyes slid over Iliana’s body, and she fought the urge to pat down her hair and fidget with her clothes. Like hell she’d show how self-conscious the woman made her feel.
“Answer me. Who are you? What do you want?” As Iliana spoke, she slowly moved her hand closer to the weapon, masking the movement by placing both hands on her hips. She needed to make it look as though she were being stubborn, not as though she were preparing for a fight.
“I am Pasithea. Hypnos’ wife.” The title rolled off her tongue.
Iliana felt as though she’d been slapped.
Wife.
Hypnos had never mentioned his wife. Yet, here she was. Gorgeous. A goddess. And very creepy. Not in the horror-movie sense, but in the way she looked as though she already knew how this interaction would end.
“And what I want,” Pasithea continued, grinning viciously, “is your death.”
Death.
Iliana tried to stand firm and ignore the knowledge that this beautiful goddess wanted her dead. She really did, but the dread made her legs shake. Worse than they had when she’d first woken in Hypnos’ home.
“Do you have any idea what you have cost me? I had him under control, locked away from the world. I was going to—” Pasithea cut herself off, barely hiding her rage.
“Years of building influence, positioning myself exactly where they needed me to be. And you, some pathetic human who’s going to die in months anyway—you destroyed it all. ”
They.
She’d said ‘they’. How many gods were out there trying to kill her?
“I tried to make him see reason,” Pasithea said almost to herself. “Tried to show him you were using him just like I—” She stopped again, more abruptly this time. “But he is blinded by your mortality; by the tragedy of it. He always had a weakness for lost causes.”
The poppies woven in her hair seemed to wilt as she spoke, the petals browning around the edges.
“And now?” Her eyes went distant. “Some of us have been waiting centuries for our chance to matter again. The minor gods, the ones the world forgot,” Pasithea said fervently.
“We were promised, shown what happens when the balance is restored. When those who have been overlooked finally get what they are owed.”
“Promised by whom?” Iliana asked, stalling.
How long would it be before her gods, the real ones, came looking for her?
Pasithea’s smile grew wide. “Does it matter? When you are desperate enough, when you are barely a hint of the goddess you were before, when even your own sisters will not speak to you because—” She shook her head.
“When someone offers you the chance to return to relevance, to power, to be seen again, you do not ask questions. You just do what they tell you.”
Her words sounded rehearsed. As if she’d told herself this story so many times, she thought it was true.
“You really believe that?” Iliana asked carefully. “That killing me restores anything? I’m just a human.”
The goddess’ smile wavered, just for a second. The uncertainty of her belief showed through the cracks before she smoothed it away. “I have to.” Then her delicate-looking hands clenched as she said, “Your death changes everything. It has to.”
Before Iliana could attempt to distract the goddess with more questions, Pasithea changed. The air surrounding her looked like heat waves over the desert. Her body twisted unnaturally, her face elongating before she appeared to melt into an iridescent puddle on the cave floor.
Iliana staggered, taking a step back. But she got no time to experience relief or joy. A moment later, three figures rose from the liquid. Three identical copies of Pasithea.
What the fuck!
The three Pasitheas circled, blocking any escape except the river. The Lethe. One step into those waters and the memories Iliana treasured would be gone forever. Her parents. The gods. Herself.
She grasped the dagger. It seemed too small, inadequate against a goddess who could split herself into three. How could she use it to fight against someone who’d lived for millennia, while Iliana had barely survived twenty-seven?
Anubis had trained her, drilled her on fighting opponents bigger and stronger than her. It wasn’t about winning, but about surviving long enough for help to arrive. But he’d never trained her to face a goddess alone.
Run. Jump into the Lethe. Do anything except standing there and confronting a goddess she couldn’t possibly beat.
Anubis had called her a fighter. Thanatos had said she was resilient. Hypnos had saved her life. Hermes had even given her the dagger to protect herself with. They believed in her. And they’d made her believe in herself. She wouldn’t prove them wrong by giving up without trying.
She inhaled slowly, forcing the fear down into something she could use. She moved her body into the fighting stance Anubis had made her perfect. She could imagine him behind her, his hands resting on her hips, his mouth near her ear. “Good girl.”
She readjusted her hold on the dagger and stared at the goddesses. The chances were astronomical that she’d survive this fight. But at least she’d die fighting.
She tried to look for an opening between the three figures, a way to give her more room to fight. The Pasitheas moved in unison, their dresses changing colors and making Iliana’s head swim.
“Just accept your death, human,” they said, the words coming from all three simultaneously. They were layered, overlapping, and crashing into her head like a wave.
Iliana maintained her position, refusing to be distracted. She stayed on the balls of her feet, holding her stance as she waited for the goddesses to attack.
They moved. All three at once, six arms grasping at her like some nightmare creature.
She ducked low, dodging as the arms passed overhead, close enough to feel the air displace above her. She came up swinging, swiping the dagger through the nearest figure.
No resistance.
Illusion.
Another lunged. She slashed at the grabbing hand—
Nothing.
Two of the figures were fake. Which meant—
Pain raced along her arm as real fingers latched onto her. The nails sliced into her skin with ease as the hold tightened.
Iliana screamed as she felt her bones being crushed. She let her training kick in, allowing the muscle memory to take over. She whirled around and struck. Horror mixed with her need to survive as she felt the dagger sink deep into the real Pasithea’s gut.
A shriek escaped from the goddess, and, faster than her human eyes could follow, Pasithea’s hand lashed out, slamming into her face.
Blinding pain burst through Iliana’s skull, stunning her as the sounds of the river disappeared and her vision went hazy. A sickening moment of weightlessness—then cold.
Then nothing at all.