22. Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Phineas
T hings had gone from mild distress to near hysteria since Hades’ appearance. It was hard for Phineas to even go to the marketplace for food. Gods and goddesses were scattered everywhere, some whispering, some shouting, but all with strained faces.
He looked at the fruits in the crate before him. The vendor was usually pleasant—a black-haired goddess who always greeted him cheerily when he strode through with Corre. But today, her expression was dark, and her sapphire eyes were somewhere else.
“Are these the same as last time?” he asked, though he knew full well that they were—she sold the same fruits every week. She nodded but said nothing. Her expression was past him. He looked back at the fruit. It was dark red and oblong, with one small leaf fluttering on the twig at its head. It looked more like candy than fruit. Corre loved them. She always grabbed an armful and bit into them as if she’d never eaten something so tangy and delicious in her life.
He smiled at the thought of her laughing with her mouth full, shoving him playfully on their weekly journey home from the grocers at the market square, baskets filled to the brim with their spoils. His smile vanished at the thought of her absence. She was always here on Saturdays. They met at this exact time, too, when the sun was in that perfect spot in the sky and they could find the freshest food for lunch.
But she was nowhere to be seen. Even on the off times they didn’t plan on meeting ahead of time, they’d run into each other. It was always constant. Something had to be wrong.
“You’re just being paranoid,” he muttered to himself and fumbled with the fruits.She’s probably focused on training. Her mother’s been on her about that.
“I am not paranoid,” a voice said.
He looked up, locking eyes with the blue-eyed vendor.“I didn’t say you were—”
“I amrealistic,” she said, annunciating every syllable.
Phineas looked back down, picking up another piece of fruit.“I—”
“He’s going to come again, isn’t he?” This time, her voice was shaky.
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I can’t imagine he’d stay away after coming up here.”
The woman nodded at a lightning pace. “Exactly. He’s planning something, and we’re all in danger.”
“That’s not necessarily true,” Phineas lied, knowing mass hysteria could be even deadlier than a god from Tartarus.
She scoffed. “Well. Think what you want, but I’m going to prepare.” Her eyes bolted to his. “You better, too. More than any of us. You’re Ares, for pity’s sake. Act like it.” The words stung, and before he could stand up for himself, she added, “One drachma for the fruit. And I think it’s best if you leave.”
He tossed her a coin and nodded, still stung by her words. He knew it was true, though. It was time to buckle down.
No more games.
Instead of heading home, Phineas took a sharp turn to Athena’s. He weaved through the woods, the vendor’s words heavy in his mind. He was supposed to be the greatest warrior on Olympus. If something happened—if Hades did anything—it would be up to him to take action.
“Time to live up to the legacy,” he told himself, despite the uneasiness filling his chest. Athena’s place was straight ahead. As the cottage came into view, he worried that the older goddess may not be home. She wasn’t expecting him today. He usually took grocery days off to spend with Correlia.
But the door opened, and the scarlet-haired goddess spotted him and stopped. “Phineas. I wasn’t—”
“I need to train.” The words echoed through the wood. A gust of wind blew between them, and Athena’s long hair rippled at her sides.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s get to it.”
Corre
Corre watched as her feet swiped back and forth on the bed. She groaned and flopped her arms out into a T. “This is so boring.” She shifted to her side and sucked in a breath. When Theron’s recognizable scent wafted through her nose, a spark sizzled through her body.
She closed her eyes and breathed in again. In her mind, she saw him lying there as he slept, his black hair spilling onto his pillow, his body moving in steady breaths. He turned around, still fast asleep, and grabbed hold of her, his body enveloping hers, and together they slept, molded into one shape.
If she’d woken up to his embrace deeper into the night, would she have turned around, sleepy-eyed and uninhibited, and touched him back? Feeling the arc of each sculpted muscle beneath her fingertips? What if he’d grabbed hold of her willingly? For all she knew, he had. He could have easily swept her into his grasp, his face nuzzling into the crook of her neck as he breathed in the tulip scent of her hair.
If he’d done so willingly, and she’d known . . .
Air snagged in her throat. She thought of him wrapping his arm around her waist in the darkness of the night. Of her turning around and facing him, dizzy in a state of half-sleep. Him swiping his hand up her back and across her stomach. His fingers trailing across her skin. His hands—
The door swung open, and she inhaled a breath so fierce it made her cough. “Why are you so flushed?” Theron asked as the door closed. He was gripping the top of a lumpy sack, eyeing her with a cocked head.
“I-I’m not. I mean I’m hot.” She laughed. “I’m used to fresh air.”
“Really? I find it cold in here. And damp. It’s a lot chillier than where you live, that’s for sure.”
“What’s in there?” she said quickly, pointing to the cloth in his hand.
He threw it to her.“Food. Take whatever you want. I need to go.”
“What? Already? You just got here—” She stopped the moment she heard the eagerness in her voice, then leveled it. “You have to eat. You’re all sweaty, and—Theron! Your arm!”
He looked at the wound—a bloody claw mark slashed down his shoulder, skidding to a stop right above his chest. “Oh, that?”
“Yes, that!”
“It’s nothing,” he said, genuinely confused at her alarm. “Really. It happens all the time.”
It happens all the time?
Corre’s insides knotted. How could someone be so used to a life of pain? So desensitized to violence?
“What did it to you?”
“Another beast. One I’ve never seen before.” He sat next to her on the bed and flashed her a smile. “But I got him. He’s a pile of flesh and ash now.” Corre looked at the food but, thinking of that lovely image, lost her appetite. Theron got off the bed, swung off his cloak, and hung it over a rack by the door. “I must go. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Can I come?”
“What? Of course not.” He pointed at her clothes. “That’s hardly armor. And you can’t fight.”
Her eyebrow twitched. “Of course I can.”
“Sure, princess,” he said with a chuckle.
The blood boiled in her veins. She slid to her feet, her fists balled at her sides. “How dare you call me that!”
“I’m not wrong. Besides, you can’t be seen by anyone, remember?”
“I won’t! I’ll be careful.”
“What are you even going on about? Just stay here.”
“No! I’m going with you! I know how to fight! I want to train—”
“No!” he shouted, then left the room before she could protest again.
“RAH! He’s so irritating!” She sat back on the bed with her arms crossed, the anger still pulsing through her. She looked at the food now spilling onto the bed. There were two rolls, three apples, and a branch with about a dozen grapes on it. Her stomach growled, but she thought of Theron’s arrogant attitude, the state of his shoulder, and her desire to do anything but waste her day in this mind-numbing room.
Quickly, she plucked a handful of grapes off the branch, popped them into her mouth, and raced to the door. She placed an ear next to the crack beside the doorknob. Nothing. No one was out there. She grabbed Theron’s cloak and threw it over her shoulders, quickly opened the door, shut it, and followed the hallway until she heard Theron’s even stride.
At least, she thought it was his. She peered around the corner. Sure enough, she saw the towering Hades striding down one of the hallways in the black maze. She tiptoed to the other side and waited until his footsteps were far enough away that she could tail him without him suspecting anything.
She followed the echo of his footsteps until she heard the heavy dungeon door creaking open. When it slammed shut, the noise echoing across the entire labyrinth, she turned the corner and ran to it. She waited as long as she could before throwing herself in and ducking behind the nearest pile of rubble. When she poked her head out, she stifled a gasp.
This was no room. Some sort of sorcery must have played into the creation of such a chamber. Or maybe a Titan had built it. There was no way this place was hidden below the ground in any natural way. Its ceiling was so high Corre couldn’t make out where it was. There was nothing concrete above her head. No dirt or tile or earth. It seemed to go on endlessly, eventually turning into a shrouded mass of shadow above the rocky cliffs and towering stone walls that stood scattered across the spacious dungeon.
It was incredible. Unnerving, but incredible.
Corre quietly crawled on her hands and knees to another spot she could hide behind—a wall of ruddy stones, each jagged and misshapen—until she saw where Theron stood. His body moved in careful motions, his sword slicing through the air in graceful strides. It was like a dance. He was strong. Confident. And she liked the way his muscles tensed beneath his thin black shirt. He’d taken off his heavy cowl, belt, and any other form of armor he usually wore beneath the cloak she was now gripping against her chest.
He looked free, but his motions were calculated. His arms were still strong, despite being injured, and his legs were solid and planted firmly on the ground by his long black boots. She loved the way he moved. It was captivating.
His foot skidded back as he wielded the long sword, his upper body moving forward with the momentum. Of all the times Corre had witnessed fighting—mostly from watching Athena and training with Phineas—she’d never seen something so elite. So precise.
The beast he was facing came into view. It was the most horrifying thing she’d ever seen. With four—no,five—snake-like heads the length of three maple trees stacked from root to tip and black eyes that squared in on Theron, Corre didn’t know how he wasn’t more afraid. Despite its thin necks, its body was robust—thick, like a meaty elephant with four stocky legs. Every inch of its skin was covered in sharp, glass-like scales that allowed it to blend into its surroundings, making it even more lethal.
One of its beaked mouths let out a cry that shook the ground, causing her to fall onto her tailbone. Her dominant hand scraped against the rough dirt. That was when she realized how realistic the floor looked to the world above. It was like a piece of Mt. Olympus had been taken from outside her house and placed in this chamber. She sifted through the coarse, sandy material with her fingers, then reached out and felt the smoothness of the stone beside where she’d been hiding. It was probably odd to be studying dirt and rocks at a time like this—she understood that, but she couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the Persephone in her.
A scream sliced through the room, but it wasn’t from the beast this time. Corre jumped out to see Theron on his knees, holding his wounded side. It was split back open and leaking blood onto the floor. His head hung, chin resting against his broad chest, but she couldn’t see his expression through his falling waves of hair.
The creature wailed, one of its heads bending back, winding up for its next attack. Corre sucked in a breath and looked to Theron. He was still bent over, swaying dizzily.
“Theron! Look out!”
His head shot up. He looked at her for a split second before swiveling around and spotting the serpent-like head snapping toward him.
There was a loudpinging sound, like metal blades scraping against each other, and a furious spark. A light flashed across the room. Its blinding strength temporarily fuzzed Corre’s vision, and in those brief moments of uncertainty, she couldn’t fight off the panic.She rubbed her eyes furiously until she spotted Theron again. His back was against the dirt, his sword stretched out in front of him, its blade impaling the roof of the serpent’s mouth, bursting out the top of its head.
It must have been the only head in control because soon the other heads shriveled and coiled up, and the pierced head crumbled into dust. The beast’s lifeless body crashed to the ground, puffing a large cloud of dirt to life. The dirt swept through the dungeon in an enormous, earthy wave. When the haze dissipated, Corre spotted Theron clutching his side and hobbling to his feet. “Are you okay?”
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice strained. He tried putting weight on one of his legs, but then toppled to the ground and grunted in pain.
“Let me help you.” She grabbed hold of his arm, half-expecting him to jerk away, but he didn’t resist. He let her steady him, and he took hold of his sword’s hilt with his free hand as he inched up into a standing position.
He started to fall against her and lose his footing, but she managed to keep him upright. “Whoa, hang in there,” she said, steadying him as best she could.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he grumbled again.
“How about a ‘thank you’?” She glowered at him while she helped him find a place to sit. “I’ve saved you twice now.”
“I was fine,” he said, sliding onto a flat rock.
“Right.” She rolled her eyes. With the dust now settled and the beast not so much as twitching, Corre let herself breathe and scan the room more closely. “How was this chamber created?” she asked, looking again at the impossibly high ceiling and the overwhelming size of the dungeon.
“Magic, what else?” he replied as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Magic?” She lifted a brow. “Seriously? How am I supposed to believe that?”
He winced as he repositioned himself on the rock and pressed his arm against his injured side. “Believe what you want, but that’s the reality of it. Besides, how is magic really that different than the powers you use to create life on Olympus?”
She looked back up at the ceiling, or at least where the ceiling should have been, instead of a sea of shadow. “You use magic,” she said, more of a statement and more to herself. “Trust me, it’s different. I use what flows in me through skills I’ve acquired through training. I can’t whip up illusions.”
“What you described is magic. Just because you can make illusions with it doesn’t make it a different source of power. I have to train to do what I do, too.”
Something flickered and swirled in the abyss above her. Her eyes followed the odd movements as she pondered his statement. She’d always been told that magic was evil. That it wasn’t true skill—that it was taken from the energy of others and created through falsities. Surely that was what was at play here. This dungeon couldn’t really exist like this. “Magic isn’t real. My powers are.”
Theron snorted. “Whatever you say.” She frowned and shot him another glare, but she couldn’t bare argue with him. He looked terrible. His eyes were barely open, and the color was rapidly draining from his face.
Without another word, his eyes closed, and his body slumped. He almost slid off the rock before she jumped up to catch him.“We need to get you patched up again. Right away—”
“No. I need to train.”
She grabbed hold of his arms. “You really are something,” she snapped. “How do you expect to live through another fight like this?”
He didn’t retort, but he also didn’t move. His face lost more color by the second. It was only a matter of time before he hit the ground and passed out.
“Come on. Let’s get you back to your room.”
It took them a painful amount of time to make it to the door, and as they did, it swung open. Corre couldn’t so much as blink before Theron pushed her behind a pile of debris and masked her from whoever was at the door. She almost hit the wall but was more shocked and confused than anything else.
Theron stood upright, bracing himself, but his legs were trembling. He couldn’t mask the pain completely.
“Sir, you are expected for a meal with Thanatos,” a scratchy male voice said.
“Oh. Right.”
“Forgive me, but had you forgotten? I could tell the master—”
“No! No. I just . . . I may be a few minutes late. I was training again. I took on another match and—”
“You’d forgotten. I understand. I will tell—”
“No!” Theron snapped. The other being fell silent. Theron leveled his voice. “I didn’t forget. I simply lost track of time.”
Another moment of silence passed. “Very well,” the voice said. “I will tell the master that you will be there shortly.”
Corre hadn’t seen what the god looked like, or even if it was a god. There were a lot of demons crawling around Tartarus; she never knew what to expect. But when the being finally left, Theron let himself hunch back over and turn to her, his face strained.
“You forgot, didn’t you?” she said with an impish smile, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was bent over and heaving uneven breaths. “We should get going right away," she said, correcting her behavior. “If you want that side of yours stitched up before you eat with your master.”
“Stitched up?”
“It’s going to keep bleeding if it’s only bandaged. We need to stitch it. Your opponent today knew where to hit you. You were bleeding all over the place.” The image of his blood spilling to the floor and between his fingers made Corre’s blood drain from her face. She shook the thought away. “Come on, we—”
“No. Someone will see you. I’ll go first, and if the coast is clear, I’ll wave to you and you can follow.”
“But you’re hurt. You’re going to fall—”
“Please!” His voice echoed across the dungeon. Her heart nearly stopped. His deep brown eyes stared down at her, pleading.
“Okay,” she conceded quietly.
“Let’s go. If you want to ‘stitch my side’ before I dine with Thanatos, we have no time to lose.”
Corre rolled her eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she said, but she couldn’t hold back a smile as she followed him out of the room.