Chapter 6
Morpheus
Pandora’s Box
“I still expect you to uphold your part of our agreement,” Ares says from his position against the wall. “It’s not my fault Hades fucked off and didn’t return. But I did let him through, just like you requested.”
I sigh, my focus leaving my watch to lock gazes with the God of Wrath. “I’ll create your little fantasy,” I promise. Because he’s right—it’s not his fault that Orcus and Hades disappeared.
But I’m not sure it’s Hades’s fault either.
“You’re certain you haven’t sensed his return?” I ask, wary.
“Isn’t he supposed to be your bond-mate?” Ares’s expression exudes the same boredom as his tone. “Shouldn’t you feel him?”
“I’m bonded to the same Omega, not Hades.”
“Sounds like a mate-circle problem,” he deadpans. “I’d recommend talking to Hades, but a recommendation would imply that I care. Which I do not.” He pushes off the wall. “I also don’t care to wait any longer. If you want to talk to Demeter, follow me. Otherwise…”
He turns and walks away, not bothering to finish his statement.
My eyes lift toward the writhing snakes in the ceiling before I start after the impatient Alpha. He’s not wrong to respond with impatience. But that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.
Heaving yet another sigh—a sound I fear I’ve made a lot lately—I match his pace and join him as we wind through the corridors of his deadly mazelike prison.
If Hades returns, I suspect Ares will feel him and perhaps create a doorway to join us. Or, I hope he will, anyway.
Is Alina all right? I wonder. Orcus uttered her name seconds before vanishing, the disappearance so quick that I wasn’t given a chance to speak or react.
Though, I did immediately check on my link to Serapina.
Which I found thriving with intensity.
An intensity that nearly had me returning to her.
I can only imagine what Maliki did to inspire such a sensation in our mate. And that sensation only seems to be strengthening right now.
Fuck. Her arousal is like a beacon I can taste on my tongue, one that beckons me to join in on the fun.
But I need to see this task through first, as I highly doubt Ares will be up for rescheduling this visit. And while I may not trust Hades’s intentions with Serapina, I do think there’s merit in questioning Demeter. Thus, I’ll—
“Ares.” The guttural hiss precedes the appearance of a door, one that didn’t exist in the wall a mere second ago but is wide open and there now.
The God of Wrath pauses before slowly turning toward the dark entryway.
I arch a brow and try to glance inside, but it’s pitch black.
“I feel her,” the voice says in a rasp. “She’s here.”
Ares’s jaw ticks. “You’ve been saying that for twenty-four years, Levi.”
My brow inches higher. “Now there’s a nickname I haven’t heard in a millennium or two.” Leviathan, the God of Havoc, went mad when Medusa disappeared.
I’m not surprised Ares has him locked up in Pandora’s Box. Leviathan and Ares were best friends, once upon a time. Is that friendship why Leviathan can create his own doors in Ares’s prison? I wonder.
“Quiet, dreamer,” Levi returns, sounding less raspy now and interestingly sane. “Ares, you need to listen to me. She’s here. In prison. Or one like this. A cage. They call her Mad Maddie. And—”
“Enough. I’ve told you before that there is no one here by that name.”
“Not here here, but there,” the God of Havoc bites back, sounding a bit more crazed now. “In a cage!”
Ares releases a breath, his shoulders seeming to sink in defeat. “We’ll discuss it later, Levi.” He waves his hand, causing the door to slam shut before the other Alpha can reply. Then he resumes walking without a word.
“Leviathan senses Medusa?” I ask softly after a few seconds of walking. “Do you sense her, too?”
“What I sense or do not sense is not your business, Morpheus.”
“True,” I agree. “But if Serapina is right about this Omega plane, it’s possible that Leviathan’s ramblings are relevant to the existing situation.”
Ares pauses again, this time looking back at me with an expression I haven’t seen on his face in a very long time. It’s an expression I haven’t witnessed on any Alphas in eons, in fact. An expression of hope.
Although, it fades in a blink, his nonchalant mask falling over his features as he says, “Levi’s ramblings are the curse of a broken bond. His spirit will never recover.”
My eyebrow inches upward. Ares speaks about Leviathan like he’s one of those husks decorating the barren fields of the Mythos Fae Realm.
Yet the God of Havoc seemed quite competent mere moments ago.
“Is that why he’s able to manifest doors at will in your prison?” I ask when Ares resumes walking again.
He doesn’t reply.
But I can tell my question irks him by the way his shoulders tense again.
So I casually add, “Because that sort of ability strikes me as not only intentional, but capable. Which is odd because the mad Alphas I’ve engaged with over the last few centuries don’t appear to have enough focus or brainpower to pull off that sort of trick with such flawless ease.”
Ares remains silent.
That’s fine. I’ve said what I needed to say.
Just a few brief comments have intrigued Ares enough to ensure he’ll be exceptionally helpful during this interrogation. Because he wants to know about the Omega plane almost as much as I do, but for very different reasons.
He’ll be extremely interested in learning about Medusa’s fate. Is she alive somewhere? Reincarnated as another? Only Demeter can tell us.
Just like only Demeter can explain what the fuck she’s done to Serapina.
Even now, I feel her ecstasy spiraling through our connection, yet she’s no longer nearing her heat. It’s like her Omega side has shut off entirely.
Which isn’t good.
A starved Omega is a tortured soul.
And I worry about what that means for Serapina’s future. Especially with her commenting on Persephone’s memories.
Whatever Demeter has done, I’ll fix it.
Serapina Everheart will not be erased.
Not if I have anything to do with it.
“Here,” Ares says, turning abruptly toward a solid wall.
I move to his side, my gaze vigilant as the stone begins to shift into a set of stairs that lead down.
Cobwebs decorate the interior, as does an array of insects that literally make my skin crawl.
Mostly because those “bugs” are the size of my forearm, with multiple legs and eyes, as well as a variety of fiery colors.
“Creative,” I mutter.
Ares’s lips twitch. “She’s the Goddess of Fertility, yeah? So I got creative with fertile animals that replicate.”
I’m about to question what he means when the stairs before us start to move.
And I realize there are more than a few bugs on the walls.
Because the walls are bugs.
All replicating.
On repeat.
To the point where some are on top of the others because there isn’t enough room.
I swallow, my stomach in knots. “Can we pause their reproductive activities long enough for us to walk through them?”
Ares’s smile grows. “I thought you were the God of Fantasies.”
“I’m the God of Dreams,” I correct him. “Good dreams.”
“This isn’t a good dream?”
“No, I rather think this is a nightmare for some.”
He lifts a shoulder, the picture of nonchalance, and steps inside.
Which is when the visage changes to reveal plain stairs.
My lips purse. I strongly suspect he’s fucking with me and will just enable the same visual as before the moment I follow him. But I don’t have a choice if this is the way to see Demeter.
Fuck.
Gritting my teeth, I shift forward, only for Ares to shove me back with his hand against my chest.
“What—”
“Quiet,” he demands, his focus returning to the stairwell that abruptly evaporates into an empty room. His brow comes down, his hand curling into a fist against my chest. “That’s not fucking possible. I shackled her this time.”
He moves into the space with two long strides, his gaze searching the ceiling, then the walls, and finally the floor.
I watch from the threshold, not wanting to interrupt whatever he’s doing. But I fear I already understand what’s happened. Demeter isn’t here.
And given Ares’s reaction to that, he never felt her leave.
Which should be impossible, as he’s the warden here. No one enters or escapes without his express permission.
Except, this isn’t the first time Demeter has managed to find a way out of Pandora’s Box.
“How the fuck did she…?” The words leave Ares on a low growl, his horns suddenly glowing with fire. “I’ve been breached.” He spins toward me. “Or this has all been a trick and she was never really here.”
My brow furrows, both from his commentary about the breach and, particularly, as a response to his suggestion that Demeter’s presence was some sort of a mirage. “Orcus delivered her to your prison,” I say slowly.
“I know. I authorized the entry.” He looks at me, his eyes twin black flames. “So either Demeter manufactured a millennia-long mirage—which I hear she’s skilled at—or she’s somehow managed to vanish.”
“Just like the Omegas two thousand years ago,” I say, following his logic. “Or, as you say, she never actually returned from that original disappearing act.”
“Yes.” The word is bitten off between his teeth, clearly irritated by both possibilities. Ares does not take deception well.
Neither do I, but it’s an art I’ve mastered over my eternal lifetime. Benefits of being the God of Dreams. “We need to find this Omega plane.”
“No. You need to find the Omega plane. I need to ensure Pandora’s Box is secure.” With those final words, he vanishes.
In true Alpha nature, he expects me to follow his command.
Usually, I would be irritated by such a presumption and do the exact opposite of what’s been demanded of me.
However, on this point, we’re agreed.
Because this mysterious existence that Demeter has crafted holds all the answers. Answers Mythos Fae kind has strived to understand for millennia. Answers to what really happened with Persephone. And answers regarding Serapina’s fate.
It’s time to hunt, I decide, my gaze narrowing at the closing wall before me. First up on my tracking list—Orcus.
Because I have questions about Demeter’s capture and imprisonment.
So where the fuck did you and Hades go…?