Diversion
PRUE
Prue’s heart skittered as she made her way downstairs. The deep voices of the Titans drifted up to her, too muffled for her to make out any words.
She lifted her chin. She could do this.
They wouldn’t kill her. They needed her alive to negotiate with Cyrus.
With this reminder fresh in her mind, Prue descended the final steps and rounded the corner.
The murmuring stopped at once, and four pairs of dark eyes fixed on her.
Four. One Titan wasn’t here.
Damn. If the last Titan was keeping watch somewhere, it was likely they would notice when the wards came down. Prue’s gaze flicked over each Titan before landing on Hyperion, who lounged in an armchair, his eyes narrowing.
“I need to speak with Hyperion,” she said in a clipped tone.
“Is that so? Well, I’m afraid I’m busy at the moment.” Hyperion turned to speak with Atlas on his left. A clear dismissal.
Prue stomped toward him, her hands curling into fists. It wasn’t hard to project the rage she felt toward this Titan. He had siphoned magic from her and tried to kill her. He had intervened during Cyrus’s challenge, nearly killing him, too.
He had worked alongside Apollo to steal the throne of the Underworld.
“I need to speak with you,” Prue repeated, her tone harsh and unyielding. “Now.”
Hyperion’s face slowly turned to fix an icy stare on her. The chair creaked as he stood, and Prue’s mouth went dry as she realized just how much he towered over her. Crackling power rippled off him, charging the air with electricity.
“You hear that?” Hyperion called to the Titans surrounding him. “The little goddess wants to throw a temper tantrum.”
A few of the Titans chuckled and guffawed at that.
“What is your problem with me?” Prue demanded. “I did nothing to you. To any of you.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand to indicate the room at large. “I have no quarrel with you. But you’ve tried to kill me twice.”
“No quarrel?” Hyperion leaned closer, his foul stench stinging her nostrils. “You’re the daughter of Gaia. You are married to Aidoneus’s son. Both of them worked tirelessly to cage us in Tartarus. I would hardly call you innocent, little goddess.”
“I just want to protect the people of the Underworld!” Prue shouted. “Why are you standing in the way of that?”
“We only want to be free,” Hyperion said. “Why are you standing in the way of that?”
“What does your freedom entail? Do you intend to slaughter the gods and goddesses who defied you? To slaughter their innocent children? Do you intend to honor and respect the souls of the Underworld? If you do, I’ll gladly step aside and let you roam the realm as you wish.”
She waited, but Hyperion only smirked at her. The other Titans snickered again.
“Such a na?ve little girl,” Atlas sneered from the sofa. “Should we tell her, Hyperion?”
“Tell me what?” Prue demanded. Her pulse quickened. She didn’t like the looks of smug satisfaction that passed between the Titans.
“Aidoneus and his precious sons wanted to use demons to fuel the rivers of souls. Did you know that?”
Prue’s stomach twisted with dread. A sour taste filled her mouth.
“The rivers are alive. Aidoneus needed to fuel the rivers from somewhere. So, he sought to use the population of demons—to drain their souls and draw power for the rivers.”
Oh god. Prue was going to be sick. Hyperion drew closer until she was backed against a wall. Still, he leered over her, revealing his fangs.
“Aidoneus didn’t want to sacrifice any of the death gods to power the rivers,” Hyperion hissed. “No, they were far too valuable for that. Instead, he sought a source that was dispensable. A source no one would miss.”
Prue shook her head, her eyes squeezing shut. “No.”
“These are the people you are standing by,” Hyperion spat. “They are monsters. More monstrous than we are. Wake up and face the truth, girl.”
Magic churned in the air, and Hyperion’s brow furrowed. He sniffed, as if trying to scent out whatever power was circling the cottage.
Prue’s heart lurched as she realized Mona must have cast the spell. With a sharp gasp, Prue shoved at Hyperion’s shoulders, but he didn’t even budge. “You’re lying!” she screamed.
Hyperion bared his teeth, looking every bit the predator he was. “I am not.”
“You said Aidoneus wanted to use demons to fuel the rivers,” Prue said, her voice rising with her fury. “But he didn’t, did he?”
Hyperion went perfectly still.
“I know for a fact that the rivers are fueled by the death gods themselves,” Prue said, her voice gaining volume. “Because when Cyrus was called to the mortal realm, his river dried up from being disconnected from its source.”
Hyperion’s nostrils flared, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. He was caught in his lie, and he knew it.
Prue jabbed a finger straight into Hyperion’s chest. “You are a liar. So don’t try to turn me against them, you sick bastard. You’re a brute, and I refuse to be intimidated.”
Rage contorted Hyperion’s features, and he slammed his forearm into her throat, pinning her to the wall and making her cry out. “Is that why you came downstairs? To fling accusations at me? Bold of you, considering your life is in my hands.”
Prue’s throat burned, but she managed to choke out, “You… can’t… kill me.”
Hyperion’s nostrils flared. “Maybe not. But I can suck that soul of yours dry. Leave Cyrus with nothing but an empty husk for a wife. How will it feel to return to your home as a withering wisp of a human? You think your doting husband will still love you?”
Prue gritted her teeth, clawing at Hyperion’s arm as her lungs strained for air. Sharp pain lanced through her throat. She tried to inhale, but nothing came in. Black spots danced in her vision.
She managed to jerk one of her knees upward, ramming it between Hyperion’s legs. He grunted, his grip loosening just enough for her to shove his arm off her. She ducked, her vision foggy, and crashed into a side table. A vase shattered, littering the floor with tiny shards.
The other Titans were on their feet in an instant, eyes blazing.
But then, Prue felt it. Heat and energy coursed through the air, filling her with vibrance and clarity. She straightened and inhaled deeply. Magic crackled in her veins, alive and ready to do her bidding.
It had worked. The wards were down.
Goddess, it was a relief, to feel her power flowing through her once more. All she wanted to do was choke the life out of each of these Titans.
But she couldn’t. Mona had said the wards would only be dismantled for a moment. As soon as they were back up, the Titans would overpower her. And they would know what Mona had done.
She had to pretend she was still powerless.
With a groan, Prue hunched over as if injured, massaging her throat and staggering away from the approaching Titans.
“She doesn’t need all her limbs,” said one, licking his lips hungrily. “Perhaps she could lose a few fingers. Or even a hand. Cyrus wouldn’t mind, would he?”
Prue didn’t have to pretend to shudder. But she adopted a horrified expression, cowering away from the Titans.
Hyperion chuckled. “As long as her heart still beats, I don’t care what you do with her.”
“The left hand is mine,” said Atlas with a grin.
“I’ll saw off her pretty little feet,” said another.
The Titan closest to her lunged, and Prue dropped the pretense and kicked him hard in the face.
He cried out, stumbling backward. Another Titan reached for her, but she scrambled out of the way, rolling along the floor.
She hit something hard—a table perhaps—and overturned it, not caring when it hit the floor with a loud crash.
Her goddess blood granted her strength and agility, and she had to use that to her advantage. At least until Mona had completed the spell.
After that, she was in deep shit.
One step at a time, she told herself, ducking to avoid Atlas’s swinging fist. She lifted a wooden stool to block his next strike. With a roar, he jerked the stool out of her grasp and flung it against the wall. The wood splintered and cracked, leaving the stool broken.
Something heavy slammed into the back of her head, and she screamed, darkness momentarily clouding her mind as she threatened to black out.
Then a Titan grabbed Prue from behind, one meaty arm covering her chest. She wriggled, trying to break free, but his arm was so thick and large it covered both of hers. She stomped on his toes, and he groaned, but his grip remained firm.
The other Titans cackled as they drew closer, a dark and hungry look gleaming in their eyes.
“I think you’ve caused us enough trouble, little goddess,” said Hyperion. He lifted a jagged blade from the counter behind him and drew closer to her. “Maybe we should start with cutting out that tongue of yours. I think we’d all appreciate the silence, wouldn’t we?”
The Titans laughed. Prue’s stomach churned as she struggled anew, her legs flailing uselessly.
Shit, this was not good.
A deafening boom sounded from outside, and everyone went still, eyes going to the door.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
One after another, explosions split through the air, crackling like thunder.
Prue’s heart seized in her chest. What was that?
“Prometheus,” Hyperion said, “Go and see—”
His words cut off as another Titan burst through the front door, panting. “Fire,” he gasped. “There’s fire in the sky.”
Cold horror washed over Prue. No. Mona’s spell wasn’t supposed to be like this. The Titans weren’t supposed to know.
Slowly, Hyperion fixed a murderous gaze on Prue, his eyes narrowing into slits. “Go and check on the other little goddess, would you, Prometheus?”
The Titan who had threatened to saw off Prue’s feet lumbered toward the stairs, his heavy footfalls echoing. Hyperion, still wielding the knife, drew closer to Prue.
In a low voice, he said, “Now, you’re going to tell me exactly what you two have been up to.” He pressed the blade against her cheek. “Or I’ll slice off your tongue and force it down your throat.”