Chapter 1
RHI
The following morning, I trudge down the stairs to the kitchen, my stomach weighted with bricks from what I’m about to do.
My parents sit at our small breakfast table, the one reserved for our intimate meals together as a unit of three, one I may never eat at again.
My mother has her back to me, wordlessly cutting into her breakfast of eggs and bacon.
My father sits at the head of the table, his side profile hidden by the pages of the local paper.
I make a small, awkward noise in the back of my throat, softer than a whisper. My father notices me first. He drops the newspaper and greets me with wide eyes.
My mother turns, brows raised in alarm. “Rhi, is everything ok?”
I shouldn’t be surprised at their reactions.
I haven’t left my room in two weeks, and I’ve barely said a single word to either of my parents.
My sharp hearing had picked up on their hushed conversations a few doors down from mine as they wondered if I’d ever be myself again, or if they should take me to see a therapist. I hate that I put them through such agony, which is all the more reason I have to do this.
“Yeah. Just thought I’d come down and have some breakfast.” I offer a weak smile, even though the thought of food makes my stomach churn.
“Of course!” My mother gets up from her seat to grab another plate, on which she hurriedly piles on scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Under normal circumstances, this is the type of breakfast I’d devour.
But nothing about my life has been normal for a while now.
My mother ushers me over to the table, urging me to sit, happiness etched in the fine lines of her forehead and the creases of her eyes. The guilt-tipped blade twists further.
My father places a cup of coffee beside my plate, and both my parents stare down at me expectantly. I force another smile, stab my fork around a few times, then bring a forkful of food to my mouth and command my throat to swallow.
It tastes like chalk.
My mother and father sigh with relief before returning to their seats. I quickly wash down the bland food with a large gulp of black coffee.
“Since when do you drink black coffee?” My mother narrows her dark brown eyes in suspicion.
Since everything tastes like loss.
I shrug. “Just trying something different.”
Neither of my parents say another word, and my mother goes back to eating while my father picks his newspaper back up.
It’s now or never. I clear my throat. “I’m going back to school.”
The paper drops at the same time my father’s jaw does, and my mom turns to me, disbelief washing her features.
“Sweetheart, isn’t it a bit…soon?”
“I said I would return for the second semester, which starts after the new year.”
“Yes, but…” She trails off and drops her gaze.
“But what?”
My father releases a sorrowful exhale. “You’ve been home since November, Rhi, and you haven’t been yourself.” He exchanges a glance with my mom. “We’re just worried you might need more time and, well, maybe more…help?”
Also known as therapy.
I push my still-full plate away. “I don’t need help. I just need to return to my normal routine.” I watch my parents’ faces carefully, knowing they aren’t buying my bullshit. “I can meet with the university’s psychologist once a week if it will make you feel better.”
That seems to butter them up. My mother nods and says she will email the school psychologist and ask for weekly reports; reports she won’t receive, because I won’t be going back to school. I’m going to a place I might not return from, and by the time my mother realizes that, it will be too late.
I excuse myself and leave the table, fighting the tears pooling in my eyes. Turning, I face my parents. “I love you both so much. You know that, right?”
My mother smiles warmly. “Oh, honey, of course we do.”
“We love you too, sweetheart,” my dad says.
A frigid wind bites the apples of my cheeks and the tip of my nose.
I’m sure there are colder places, but January in New York might as well be the fucking tundra as far as I’m concerned.
Though, I suppose I should bask in this arctic embrace.
Hell has always been described as fire and brimstone, and I may never again get the opportunity to complain about freezing temperatures or see the first snow of winter blanket the ground in ivory.
The train platform is eerily empty and blessedly quiet.
My parents dropped me off at Alystair this morning, and I dumped my belongings into mine and Zo’s room before I called an Uber to the nearest train station.
I had to maintain the illusion I would be returning to Alystair for the spring semester, so I went through all the trouble of packing my things and hauling everything back to the school.
I could barely look at my parents when they bid me farewell, and I knew the girls would never let me do this alone, so I didn’t tell them.
Instead, I left a hastily scribbled apology note on Zo’s bed like a coward.
“I can’t fucking believe it,” a voice calls out behind me.
I don’t turn, because I would know that callous tone anywhere.
“I told you,” a softer voice says, but despite its gentle nature, there's a harsh undercurrent.
I sigh and finally face my demons—otherwise known as my friends. My girls. My strength.
My gaze travels over them. Astrid, with her stony gaze and fierce sapphire eyes.
Scarlett, with her soft features and a smile that reminds me so much of her brother, I feel an abrasive fist tighten around my heart.
Then, there’s B, whose dark brown eyes hold nothing but disappointment, and finally, Zo.
Zo’s grief-stricken face has me nearly crumpling. Her coal-black eyes are red-rimmed and glassy, and her dark purple painted lips tremble. She holds up a wrinkled piece of paper. “A fucking note? How could you?”
I blink back my own tears. “I’m sorry. I know what you’re thinking, but you can’t come with me.”
You can’t help me this time, as much as I want you to.
Astrid steps forward, eyes hard and unrelenting. “Why not?”
“Circe made it clear that no living, breathing person can enter Hell. And since I am the only one tied to Hades’ realm, I am the only one who can bring him back.”
“So what’s your plan then, Rhi?” B asks. “Go to Hades and have him somehow kill you?” She chokes on the last two words. “You don’t even know how this is going to work. At least let us come with you and—”
“No.” I cut her off with an icy glare.
“Gods, Rhi.” Scarlett blows out an exasperated breath. “Nick is my fucking brother. You don’t think I want him back as much as you do? But if the cost is losing you too, we have to think of a better way—together.”
The train whistle blows in the distance, alerting us to its impending arrival. The girls exchange nervous glances, knowing time to convince me is running short.
“This is not something we can do together.” I take a tentative step toward my friends.
“Please, trust me on this. It’s not as simple as going to Hell and getting him to leave.
It’s…” I bite my lip, afraid of what my next sentence will do to them, Scarlett especially.
“Nick’s memories are gone. He has no idea who he is, who I am. Who you are, Scar.”
Zo and B’s eyes widen. Astrid’s jaw drops. Scarlett rears back, as though I’ve slapped her right across the face. Her hazel eyes fill with tears.
“He…he won’t remember me?” Her voice shakes.
“No. He won’t remember any of us. He doesn’t even remember himself. He thinks he is someone else entirely.”
The train whistle blares again, closer now.
“I have to be very careful about how I go about this,” I tell them pragmatically. “I can’t barge in there and tell him who I am and who he was. It all has to be strategic.”
Scar nods, her expression still in a daze.
“And as far as you dying to get there, how do you plan on being strategic about that?” Zo practically sneers.
I wince at the bite in her voice. It masks a mountain of hurt and betrayal. “I don’t know that I actually need to die. That’s something I have to speak to Hades and Persephone about.”
The train draws near, slowing as it approaches. I start to turn, but Astrid’s voice stops me.
“Let’s make a deal.”
I raise my brow, inviting her to continue. My intrigue spikes, seeing how not one of the girls has any leverage against me.
“If the girls and I can find a way to get to Hell safely, we will join you when we can.”
I start to protest, but Astrid interjects: “Or, I will tell Talbot and Cicero. I’ll even track down fucking Wilde if I have to. And I’ll tell your parents everything.”
The sharp sting of betrayal is something I’m all too familiar with, but I never thought it would come from one of them.
“You wouldn’t fucking dare.”
“Don’t test us, Rhi,” Zo warns. “Your savior complex, while better, is still a thorn in our fucking sides.” Her eyes soften. “We love you, and if we can help you, we will.”
The train slows to a stop behind me. My heart gallops in my chest as my brain runs through different scenarios, trying to decipher how I can keep them safe without their threats coming to fruition.
Is it really about keeping them safe, or is it about control? Leviathan had taunted me once about my idea of power and authority, about how I always liked to be the one controlling the chess pieces. The thought of proving him right leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I meet their eager stares and nod.
“Fine. Figure out how to get to Hell safely, and I’ll see you there. But remember: Nick will not know you. He won’t even know his name. You can’t call him Nick.” The doors slide open behind me.
“Do you know his name?” Scarlett asks.
“No. No one outside of Hell does.” I step inside the train and turn back one more time.
“I love you all too. See you in Hell.” The doors close, and the train pulls from the platform.
I find a row of empty seats, taking the one next to the window.
A tear rolls down my cheek as I silently bid them farewell: my friends, my school, and the life I once led.