41. Thalia
THALIA
M usic pounded through the black brick walls of Stokers as I stepped through the door, knowing damned well this was the only place they could be hiding out.
Vincent rounded the bar with a glass of ambrosia liquor in each hand, freezing the moment he caught sight of me, his eyes immediately darting to the assholes I was searching for. I stalked toward him, grabbing one of the glasses he held. “This for Micah?”
He cracked a guilty smile, relinquishing the drink to me without hesitation. “Skipped training, didn’t he?”
I knocked back the glass, the amber liquid burning its way down my throat before I set it on the bar. “They both did.”
They had left me to train alone with ten new recruits, not only avoiding the responsibility but slacking off and shirking their own training all afternoon to do gods knew what.
“Don’t let me stop you,” he said, stepping back and out of my way.
“And here I thought you’d at least have Barrett’s back,” I crooned, glancing at him.
“I’m not getting my head bitten off by the wolf,” he said with a laugh as he turned to find somewhere else to be.
I couldn’t help but reminisce on how much he had grown from the little boy I’d met so long ago to the warrior before me now. He’d been Barrett’s shadow everywhere he went, had gotten into all sorts of trouble at his side, but he’d grown into a male his mother could be proud of.
The beast within me swelled with satisfaction as I turned toward Barrett and Micah, who had yet to notice my presence.
The bastards were lucky to be hiding out in Semele and Eiko’s bar, or my first greeting would have been to tackle them to the ground, teeth bared.
I couldn’t bring myself to cause any damage to the females’ space, though, no matter how ticked off I was with the duo who had left me high and dry to deal with the new blood.
I stalked toward them, bar patrons parting ways to allow me through, as if they could sense what lurked beneath the surface of my skin, ready to bite.
“I wonder how long it’ll be before she shows up,” Micah whispered as I neared, and my lips curved at his statement.
“Better get your drinks in fast. She’s probably already on her way over,” Barrett responded, tipping his glass back and grimacing as he drank the liquor down.
“Yeah, I’d say that was your last one. Hope you enjoyed it,” I said, arms crossed as I stopped at their backs.
Micah choked on his drink, coughing and sputtering as he set his glass down. “Thalia, my love.”
“Don’t even,” I said as I glared down at him.
“It was one afternoon,” Micah said with a guilty smile, and I ignored the part of me that softened at the look in his sky-blue eyes. “Barrett pulled an all-nighter last night working on paperwork, and I was tired from patrol.”
My eyes narrowed. “We train to keep our bodies in shape, to remain prepared to fight them .”
“One missed day of training isn’t going to kill us,” Barrett said, turning to face me as he leaned back against the bar, strong arms draped over the dark wood. I avoided letting my eyes roam over every inch of carved muscle filling his shirt as he cocked his head to the side.
“I could make it up to you,” Micah said, running his tongue over his lower lip, and my heart fell into a heavy rhythm at the way his soft blue eyes darkened.
“You can make it up to me by taking my training shift tomorrow,” I said, arching a brow with a coy grin.
Micah cursed under his breath as his head fell back, but he then smiled and threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, I’ll take over tomorrow’s shift for you.”
Barrett huffed a laugh as he lifted his glass to take another swig .
“You can join him,” I growled, my gaze shifting to him.
Barrett’s steel eyes lifted to me, the glass hovering at his lips, a hint of challenge gleaming within his metallic stare. “Last I checked, I outrank you.”
“And last I checked,” I said, meeting his gaze with a challenge of my own as the beast relished how he stood against me, how he rarely cowered or backed down, “if I told Damien you were shirking your duties, he’d tear you a new one.”
He took a drink, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, and I tried not to focus on it. “More important things required my attention.”
I arched a brow. “Drinking is more important than training?”
The smile faded from his lips, and his eyes dipped. “I can assure you, I wasn’t drinking.”
I frowned and my lips parted, but I halted at the faint presence of someone at my back.
“Barrett.”
The air around Barrett changed, heated with a dull anger, just enough to allow an inkling of his magic to permeate the air like the molten breath of a wyvern, and I turned to find Aiden standing at my back.
The fully tattooed male looked to have acquired more ink since I’d seen him last, the black markings peeking from beneath the collar of his shirt where they crawled up his neck.
“Atlas is ready to see you,” Aiden said, his face unreadable save for the cold flame that lingered in his gray eyes.
“Hey to you too, Aiden,” I said bitterly, allowing the annoyance to coat my tongue. “How kind of you to grace us with your presence.”
The male was a notorious asshole in The Order, constantly picking fights with others in his unit. I’d gone toe-to-toe with him a time or two, and while I’d won out in the end, I’d spat blood to do it.
“He expects you in two hours,” Aiden said without acknowledging me. The beast within me bristled at the disrespect, and, for a moment, I nearly considered paying Semele more than the cost of repairs to slam the bastard into her bartop.
Without another glance, Aiden turned and stalked back through the crowd.
“Nice talking to you too,” I said sarcastically before turning to Barrett, whose eyes were cold and distant as they followed Aiden’s path.
“Atlas?” I asked. Where had I heard that name before?
“As in,” Micah’s voice dipped, “The Underworld Atlas?”
Barrett downed the last of his liquor before saying lowly, “No one for you to worry about.”
“What are you getting involved in?” I asked. “Is there some way we can help?”
A muscle ticked in Barrett’s jaw. “Forget about what you heard. That’s an order. ”
I ground my teeth, stifling the urge to call him out on his heroic bullshit and the way he shut me out every time I tried to help. The fucker sure loved to pull rank when it benefitted him.
He let out a sigh, set his glass and a handful of cash on the counter, and rose from his stool.
His irritation painted each short, tension-laden movement, like he was a cord wound too tight, ready to snap.
Micah and I exchanged hesitant glances before looking back at Barrett, who was pulling on his coat.
“I’ll try to show up to tomorrow’s training to make it up to you for missing today,” he said, his eyes slipping from mine, and despite the annoyance coating his words, something else lingered in his eyes when they briefly flitted to mine once more. Guilt?
“Don’t be late,” I said wearily, watching as he slipped through the crowds. “You know what’s going on?” I asked without looking at Micah once Barrett was out of earshot.
Micah shrugged, looking just as confused as I was. “Damien’s got him working on some sort of case; that’s all I know. He’s got it tight under wraps.”
Whatever it was, it seemed to bother him. I hadn’t seen that look in his eyes for years, and something about the sight of it left me unsure of what to feel. Worry? Concern? I resisted the urge to follow him, to demand he let us help him.
It wasn’t like it was for any reason other than our friendship. At least... I thought we were friends.
There had been a shift in the atmosphere the last several years, and while I wanted to pretend I couldn’t place it, I knew.
Despite my continued dance around the fire, narrowly avoiding its burning touch, just as I had for centuries, ignoring how badly I would burn if I got too close, I continued to pretend it wasn’t there. ..
Because if I acknowledged it, it would be real.
Micah’s fingers interlaced with mine, drawing me back, and I looked down at my bonded, chest swelling at the look of endearment in his eyes. “Damien gave me something when I went looking for Barrett at The Complex.”
“Oh?”
“A box. With your name on it,” he said, and I frowned.
“What’s in it?” I asked, my mind wandering to all the possibilities.
“He doesn’t know. They found it in one of the chambers beneath the Archivallia. It’s small, and your name...” His gaze wavered. “It’s written in Lucia’s handwriting.”
My heart fractured at her name.
He gave me a sympathetic smile. “It’s waiting for you at home.”
After so many decades had passed since her death, I was almost nervous to see what it contained. If it was from Lucia, it must be important .
“I am sorry for skipping out on you today,” he said, running his thumb over my hand in tender strokes. “I tried to call The Outpost, but no one answered.”
I let out a sigh. “I guess I can’t get your calls if I’m not inside.”
“Does that mean I’m forgiven?” he said with a sheepish grin.
“That depends... You said something about making it up to me,” I said, arching a brow, the corner of my lip curving into a flirtatious half-smile as I stepped between his legs and leaned against him.
I ran my fingers through his shaggy brown hair, and his head tilted back as he stared up at me.
“Make it worth my time, and not only will I forgive you, but maybe I’ll help you with training tomorrow. ”
The soft sounds of Micah’s easy breathing left my chest filled with warmth as I watched him sleep later that night.
His soft, shaggy waves dusted cheekbones, and I brushed them away from his closed eyes, resisting the urge to lean down and kiss him—to drag him from his restful sleep and pick up where we had left off just an hour prior.
My skin tingled in the wake of his touch, a deep hunger still heating my blood.
Carefully, I slipped from beneath the blanket and rose from the bed, freezing when he stirred before settling back into a restful slumber.
My eyes landed on the box atop the dresser? the one Micah had spoken of.
There was no mistaking it. The box was ancient looking, the fabric edges worn and raw, as if it had been tossed and jostled around while in the Astral Sprites’ care.
I lifted it, fearing it might crumble under my touch with how fragile and worn it appeared.
My name was written in black ink across the top; and despite the decades since her death, I could still recognize her handwriting.
Other scribbles and inscriptions in the old language littered the box with dates that spanned the last five hundred years, with paw print signatures of the astral sprites next to each date.
Five hundred years. My mind raced through the centuries, retracing the dates.
That would have been around the time they had freed me from The Pits.
My heart fell into a frenzy, my chest swelling with anxious anticipation, and I carefully lifted the lid.
Nestled within the box was a bed of silken fabric and a single envelope with my name written in neat letters.
My pulse thrummed in my ears, my heart galloping as I lifted the envelope from the bedding of delicate linen.
I pulled a small piece of parchment from the envelope’s protection that still faintly smelled like her, a hint of jasmine and the citrus soap she loved so much, despite the musty scent of time that stained the paper just as the ink did.
Her soft scent still somehow managed to calm me after all these decades.
Tears welled in my eyes as I began to read.
Dearest Thalia,
If you’re reading this, it means I am gone. Forgive me for not returning this to you earlier, but you were not ready for it. If you are reading this, The Fates have deemed it time for you to receive it once more.
I’m so sorry.
Lucia
I frowned, my fingers trembling as I read the letter over and over again, picking each word apart like the puzzle it was. What did any of it mean? How could she have known she would be gone when we found this?
My eyes fell to the linen in the box, my pulse roaring in my ears, drowning out my surroundings.
I set the letter aside before reaching in to lift it away and my heart plummeted at the familiar gray scrap of tattered fabric.
It was what remained of the coat the boy had gifted me all those centuries ago.
I’d thought it had been lost in The Pits, that I’d never see it again.
Its very existence had slipped from my mind in the centuries of its absence.
I wondered if the boy still lived, or if he had been lost during The Fall of Kingdoms..
.perhaps even before that. My hands moved of their own accord, muscle memory bringing the fabric to my nose to breathe in the familiar scent I had almost forgotten, one that had brought me comfort in many nights of despair?—
I froze as the scent of smoky oak filled my nose, as the familiar scent brought images of Barrett to my mind.
His steel eyes had felt so achingly familiar for so many centuries, burning into me like a brand, like a distant memory rippling beyond recognition on the surface of the pool of my childhood.
I’d written it off as nothing, but they had always been in my memories, had been there since the beginning.
The hardened steel eyes faded to the softened steel of a boy. Not a boy, but the boy of my childhood, the one who had cared for me, gifted me his coat to keep me warm...
It was him.