Blood of Hercules (Villains of Lore Book 1)

Alexis: Late November

Golden light glittered across the Ionian Sea as the sun set in Corfu.

The late November breeze blew through the open French doors with a slight chill, and male voices laughed raucously somewhere in the house. I was lying on my bed.

I hadn’t felt like laughing since I’d received the terrifying gift two months ago.

I can’t believe I go back to that hell tomorrow.

I groaned in frustration because time was passing with disturbing quickness.

Life was a blur of torturous monotony.

Mostly because I was a coward and had opted out of attending the symposia for the last two months.

Every week I starved, suffered from dehydration, cried while running the now freezing circuit, wished I could shower because I felt grimy, and studied until I wanted to die.

This might be worse than high school. Maybe.

Jessica and Tim-Tom had been their own special breed of torment.

Now—stretched out across my bed, graphing the Riemann Hypothesis—I aggressively popped a grape into my mouth.

Classical music played on the radio, tilted against my pillow.

I’d been trying to relax all weekend, but my thoughts kept getting away from me.

One hour of running? One hour of doing push-ups? A one-hour test?

Augustus’s disconcerting threat still haunted me weeks later.

Over the last two months, the professor had given no indication of what he’d meant while he’d carried me over his shoulder like a barbarian.

I rubbed my neck and thigh where his grip had bruised.

Strange nausea rolled low in my stomach, and I breathed deeply through my nose as I waited for it to pass.

Dark butterflies fluttered.

Everything about the man confused me.

He’d made a point of snarling with disgust every time my name was read off first after tests and shooting me a poisonous glare. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under.

Shouldn’t a professor favor the top student?

The truth of my existence was becoming depressingly obvious: People didn’t like me.

There was something off about me.

I was defective.

Drapes fluttered as wind gusted, and shadows elongated with the setting sun, so I pulled up the hood of my oversize emotional support sweatshirt.

Nyx snored and shifted underneath it.

Someone had left the black garment on the chair in my room weeks ago, right after the box incident, and since the material was ridiculously soft (the nicest thing I’d ever felt or worn), it was now mine.

The skull on the front—which was sticking up its middle finger—had grown on me.

Fluck the flucking world. Life’s a biatch like that.

Yes, I was in my emo era.

No, I didn’t want to talk about it—that was the point—however, as a commitment to the lifestyle, I was experimenting with swearing in my mind.

I was making some (no) progress.

Years of associating vulgar language with the foster parents was a hard habit to break. Still, I was trying to push past the mental block.

I don’t want to go back to that freakin’ sucky academy tomorrow, I practiced in my mind.

Outside my room, the male voices got louder, and someone bellowed with laughter.

Putting my pen down, I turned down the radio dial so I could eavesdrop.

On my days off, I usually avoided my mentors, especially since he was always hanging around.

“Achilles, did you see the Falcon Chronicles for last month? Helen gave it to me,” Patro said loudly in the kitchen. “Kharon, you made the front page. So, you finally chose a betrothal? Was it one or two Olympians? Who are they?”

A feminine voice oohed loudly, and I perked up with interest. They hadn’t had a woman over the entire time I’d been staying with them.

A raspy voice chuckled darkly. “Something like that,” Kharon said.

Speak of the devil.

My jaw dropped.

Satan has a lover? Maybe two? Those poor freakin’ Olympians. Praying for them.

More words were said, which I couldn’t hear, then it got quiet as the men went back to the other side of the house.

Stomach growling, I shoved the last bite (half the block) of cheese into my mouth and tiptoed to the door with my empty plate.

After checking to make sure the coast was clear, I hurried into the kitchen.

Piling my plate high with the food that was always spread across the counters, I turned to leave, but a yellow scroll on the table caught my attention. It was partially unrolled and covered with colors.

I sat down and hesitantly opened it.

“The Falcon Chronicles” was written in bold text at the top. “Sparta’s top news source.”

A colorful picture of Kharon, wearing a suit in a grand ballroom, took up most of the scroll.

His glacial blue eyes glowed menacingly on the page, lips pulled down in a frown. A silver crown gleamed with rubies atop his styled dark hair.

The devil really is gorgeous.

In thick black ink, it read, “Chthonic Bad Boy: Sparta’s Most Eligible Bachelor Was Seen Sending Betrothal Jewelry Last Month. Who is the lucky Olympian heir or heiress?”

Below it, a story detailed,

“Kharon’s blue eyes flashed with longing at the annual House of Dionysus ball. He refused to dance with any eligible Spartans and instead brooded about, head clearly full of thoughts of his love(s). Our sources can confirm he sent the customary three betrothal gifts, and one of them was the priceless blue diamonds from the House of Artemis. Ladies and gents, the courtship of the century has begun.

Who is the lucky citizen of Sparta? We have no doubt they opened the jewels, therefore accepting the betrothal. What lucky Olympian(s) is Sparta’s most eligible bachelor going to devote his life to? The marriage law has been a smashing success, motivating young Spartans to find true love.”

I snorted and popped a grape into my mouth.

His lovers are going to need a lot more than jewels. Most likely a lobotomy, and a gun for safety. Who would voluntarily sleep next to that psycho at night?

The rest of the story was equally ridiculous, filled with flowery language about pining and a secret great romance.

Who believes this crap?

Although, when Patro had asked about it, Kharon hadn’t denied it.

Maybe he really is in love?

I shivered with horror. Some people should spend their lives alone; he was some people.

Unrolling the scroll further, I choked at the next story. Grape bits lodged in my esophagus.

Coughing, I stared at the picture in disbelief.

It was me, sitting by myself in a dark booth at the symposium. I was slumped over, looking miserable, and the whitish-gray of my one eye contrasted harshly with my dark eye and gave me a menacing look.

Darn, my hair really is frizzy.

The bloodstains underneath my nose and eyes were also not attractive.

I sighed. They couldn’t have found an uglier picture if they tried.

Rude.

Beneath the image, bold text said, “Meet Alexis Hert, the Newest Olympian Prodigy. Zeus Confirms the Abandoned Mutt is His, and Her Classmates Tell All.”

Feeling violated, I skimmed the story.

“‘No, she’s not as attractive as people are saying,’ says her classmate Titus. ‘Her eyes are freaky, and she’s overhyped. She got lucky in the fight, and her test scores are barely beating out the rest of the class.’”

Of course they’d interviewed Titus, of all people.

Mental note—stare at him as much as possible this week. I hoped my eyes disturbed the crap out of him.

Fluck him.

“Holy Kronos, it’s you!” a girl yelled from the doorway, and I shrieked with surprise.

Clutching my chest, I slumped at the table as I tried to ride out the heart attack.

“My brothers didn’t tell me you were over. I totally would have introduced myself,” the girl said enthusiastically, like my presence was exhilarating. “I’m Helen.” A ruby crown glittered on her head.

“Your brothers?” I asked, jaw dropping as my brain caught up with what she was saying.

She’s the heiress to the House of Aphrodite.

Everyone knew who she was.

“Patro and Augustus. They’re my half-brothers, on my mom’s side.” Helen sighed dramatically, then moved to my left and mumbled something inaudible about boys.

I couldn’t picture Augustus having a younger sister.

He probably just growls at her like a beast.

The daughter of the most beautiful woman in the world stood before me (a girl impersonating a mountain troll).

“Oh, c-cool,” I said, eloquent as ever. At that exact moment, my stomach let out a loud gurgle.

“I won’t bother you,” Helen said. “I know you’re training right now and doing the crucible, which is literally insane. You probably have to meditate and study. You must be sooooo mentally strong.”

I choked on the pastry I was shoving down my throat.

I wouldn’t say “strong” was an apt descriptor.

Helen respectfully averted her gaze as I hacked, and waved her hands in the air.

“Keep up the great work,” she said. “Maybe we’ll see each other around. That will be so fun. I swear there’re like no women in all of Sparta—especially not younger like us. Ya know?” Nodding, I grunted in agreement, even though I didn’t know.

Anything.

At this point, I was 50 percent convinced I was hungry in a cardboard box, lucid dreaming about Sparta. Everything seemed surreal, and it was getting more extreme by the minute.

Helen stepped closer. “It’s crazy! There’s especially no young Chthonic women. I’m the only one. It sucks. The Great War killing all the Chthonics really was terrible for dating and friendships—especially since the Chthonic men can be so stifling. You’ve met Augustus, you know what I mean.”

You mean the fact that he’s the rudest, most belligerent man on earth?

I nodded at her, dumbstruck.

She was the most normal Spartan I’d met yet.

“Well.” Helen shrugged dismissively. “At least Chthonics are strong, and we’ve really banded together, everyone’s super protective of each other. It’s kind of nice, if you get past all the blustering and broodiness.”

I think she’s confusing psychosis for protectiveness. Poor thing.

Helen must have misread the horror in my expression, because she patted my arm. “Don’t worry—you’re not a weak Olympian like the rest of them . . . I can tell from the way you carry yourself—you remind me of my brother. You’re strong like a Chthonic.”

“Thanks?” I said.

Your brother terrifies me, so that’s alarming.

Unaware of my panic, Helen shuffled out of the kitchen with a glass of water in her hand. “Just keep up the mental strength,” she yelled from the hall. “Stay mentally calm. That’s def the key.”

My eye twitched.

The key was def killing myself before I had to go back.

But I loved her fighting spirit.

In my peripheral vision, the unrolled scroll proclaimed Kharon’s betrothal and showcased my bad hair day. I frowned as Titus’s words came back to me.

Spitefully, I grabbed more food off the counter and shoved it all in my mouth at once.

Back in my room, I angrily picked up a pillow and drop-kicked it across the room. Screaming through gritted teeth, I fell face forward onto the bed, then pummeled the mattress with my fists.

It helped marginally (not at all).

Helen would not have been impressed.

As I lay on the bed impersonating a cadaver, two voices whispered in the corner of my room.

No.

Absolutely not.

NO!

I was not doing this.

Throwing myself off the bed, I stalked over to the corner and pointed at the chair. “I don’t know who you are,” I said to the voices. “Or why you’re constantly whispering and following me around, but I’ve had it. Knock it off!” I made an x with my hands.

The chair didn’t move.

Drapes fluttered as a breeze gusted.

The room was silent.

You’re losing your mind again, Alexis. Get it freakin’ together, woman. No voices are whispering. You’re imagining things.

Sanity was easier said than done these days.

Pulling at my curly (frizzy) hair, breathing erratically, I slowly backed away from the inanimate object I’d just scolded.

There were cries for help, then there were cries for help. This was the latter.

I fell to my knees.

Buried my head in my hands.

“Freak, fluck, biatch, crud, darn, flippin’, shrit,” I wailed despondently, but my eyes were bone dry because emo girls didn’t cry (I’d cried yesterday).

The despair continued.

I missed Charlie and Fluffy.

With every cell in my body, I wished I was back starving in the woods.

That night, I dreamed of piano music, a box full of body parts, glowing red eyes, skeletal monsters, a strange obsession tinged with possessiveness, a skeleton holding up its middle finger, scratchy writing on a note, and callused fingers digging into my skin.

The devil called me carissima and whispered that he was going to take care of me from now on.

I woke up screaming.

The next morning, I reluctantly took off my emotional support sweatshirt, then met up with Patro and Achilles in the kitchen to have food (eat as much as possible in five seconds) before going back to the academy.

Patro made small talk about a new Spartan gun they were releasing, but Achilles said nothing, because he literally couldn’t, and Nyx snored around my neck.

Helen walked into the kitchen, then pulled the seat out right next to mine.

“Hi again!” she said.

I waved awkwardly, then wanted to end myself for being so socially weird. She’s a foot away. Why would you wave?

This was definitely why people hated me.

“How did you sleep?” Helen asked, completely unaware that I was mentally spiraling. “I slept great—the mattresses in this little cottage are amazing.”

Little cottage? This is a mansion.

She blinked expectantly, and I realized she was waiting for a response.

“Horribly,” I said truthfully.

She grimaced. “Sorry about that. A good night’s sleep is crucial to cognitive functioning.”

I nodded. “That w-would explain a lot of things.”

She pursed her lips like she couldn’t decide if I was joking or not.

I shoved half a loaf of bread in my mouth, then washed it down with butter and a handful of grapes.

Helen used a fork and knife to delicately cut a date into tiny pieces.

She was so ladylike; it was cute.

“All right, let’s go. We can’t be late,” Patro ordered. Internally whimpering, I grabbed another handful of food and ate it as quickly as possible.

“Good luck! Knock all those boys dead!” Helen cheered as we disappeared in a crack of smoke.

Unfortunately, that will probably happen.

Her enthusiasm for life was extremely unrelatable, and slightly off-putting, but also sweet.

She inspired me to want to kill myself less. Maybe.

The Crimson Duo left me on the front lawn.

When I entered the icy darkness of the mostly empty classroom, General Cleandro sat at the desk with his feet up, and Augustus was smiling while chatting to Cassius.

His face dropped when he saw me, and he scowled.

I flipped him off and said, “Get freakin’ lost.”

In my head.

In real life, I averted my gaze and collapsed onto the floor where I always sat, groaning as a rock bit into my left butt cheek.

“I can’t do this again,” Nyx moaned around my neck. “It’s sooooo cold in this awful mountain.”

“You’re telling me,” I whispered as softly as possible, hyperaware that I was probably speaking some freaky snake language.

In the front of the room, Augustus whipped his head around. Soulless black eyes narrowed on me as Poco climbed onto his shoulder.

Cassius followed his gaze, then looked back at the professor with confusion.

“Yep,” Nyx said. “Those are bedroom eyes. This is not a drill. It’s happening. Augustus is giving you bedroom eyes. Wow—this is escalating.”

I choked on air. “If by bedroom, you mean the eyes you give someone who’s manacled in your dungeon—then yes, that’s exactly what’s happening.”

“Oh yeah,” Nyx hissed. “That could also work. If the dungeon has red lights, whips, and chains everywhere. Also, seductive music and chocolate.”

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. Please God, bring me a new best friend. Make her less of a horny pervert. Thank you.

When I opened my eyes, Augustus had turned back to Cassius, and his smile had returned.

Bas-turd.

I slumped onto my side and fantasized about all the creative ways I could off myself. Frankly, at this point, I didn’t care if Carl Gauss thought I wasn’t accomplished in the afterlife (I cared).

Carl can suck on my . . . stuff.

“Why am I actually so lame?” I whispered to Nyx, wishing I could swear like a sailor.

A thin tongue flicked against my cheek. “I fear it’s my fault for sheltering you,” Nyx said seriously. “I should have bullied you more. Instead, I let you grow up into a weirdo. I’m sorry.”

I choked.

Why does everyone always answer my facetious questions?

“Alexis, you’re here early too!” Blond hair gleamed with blue highlights.

NO. God no. I can’t do this. Please Lord. NOOOOOOO. This is NOT the friend I wanted. I take it all back.

Maximum smiled down at me like we were best friends (we weren’t).

“Not him again,” Nyx groaned around my neck.

He was the type of person who woke up with a smile and journaled every day what he was grateful for. Someone needed to tell him an apocalypse had happened.

People needed to learn how to act appropriately.

“This is actually perfect,” Maximum said as he sat down on my left, forcing me to shift over my textbooks so there was room. “I wanted to move back a row and sit next to you—now that we’ve been studying together for months.”

He wiggled his brows and winked.

What he forgot to mention was that we studied together for months against my will.

I tutored Drex because of our alliance, and Maximum sat there being annoying the entire time because he was uncomfortable sitting with his own thoughts and wanted to tell everyone how happy he was twenty-four seven.

He needed a shovel to the head.

My neck ached as I turned my head so I could keep Maximum in my field of vision.

“Uh, are you sure?” I asked skeptically.

They never said we had assigned seating, but it was kind of inferred.

“Of course it’s fine,” Maximum said as he made a show of stacking his books next to mine. “So how was your time off? I saw there was a whole exposé on you in the Falcon Chronicles—did you see it?”

Sighing heavily, I nodded.

Yes, I saw the picture where I looked like a swamp monster. Yay.

“It’s so cool. You have no idea how much everyone in Sparta is talking about you. People in my House keep asking me about you. They freak out when I tell them we’re close friends. Isn’t that so awesome?”

I grunted noncommittally.

Drex entered the classroom. “Did you move seats?” he asked Maximum with a furrowed brow.

I slumped back with relief as their attention turned away from me.

A few minutes later, all seven of us were seated, and Augustus started lecturing about Cyclopes.

Focusing on my posture, I wrote neat notes in Latin. They’d be illegible by the end of the two weeks, but for now it gave me something to do.

An elbow nudged my ribs.

“I met a Cyclops once,” Maximum whispered, his voice barely audible in my left ear.

Don’t talk to me. I nodded, but said nothing.

He nudged me again. “Have you met one?” he asked.

Don’t touch me.

Eye twitching, I shook my head and kept taking notes.

A few minutes later, he nudged me again. This time, his breath was hot on the side of my face as he leaned close. “Did you know that the⁠—”

“Maximum and Alexis.” Augustus slammed shut the textbook he was reading from. “Get the fuck away from each other. This is a classroom, not a symposium.”

Maximum squealed and sidled away from me, clearly shocked by the professor’s harsh countenance.

Titus and his cronies chuckled in the back row.

Finally, some personal space.

“Wait,” Augustus said menacingly. Soulless black eyes glittered with danger, and his jaw clenched. “Why the fuck did you switch seats? This is my classroom, not yours.”

Initiates shifted with confusion as the normally calm professor lost it; however, as someone who’d been personally victimized by his freaky mind powers, I was not surprised.

“Everyone, up!” Augustus roared. “You’re running the crucible.”

What?

Never mind, this was a lot, even for him. Usually, he gave people warnings and tried to minimize how many times we ran, especially since it had gotten so cold outside.

General Cleandro sat up with a maniacal grin and hit his pager. His hawk screeched.

None of us dared make a noise of complaint.

BOOM.

A fierce-looking man with long blond hair appeared. An albino crow sat on his shoulder.

“Ryax, heir to the House of Dionysus,” said General Cleandro. “Your mentee took it upon himself to switch seats and bother his classmates. Lead them through the crucible.”

“Yes, General.” Ryax bowed his head, then stood up with a snap. He did not look happy.

“Go!” Augustus roared. “What are you waiting for?”

Initiates physically recoiled at his foul mood, then ran out of the room as fast as possible.

I went with them.

Hours later, my breath came out in ragged, frosty puffs. Teeth chattering, I rubbed at my arms for warmth as I ran up the mountainside. Ice and snow were frigid against my numb toes.

The sky was a miserable shade of gray.

Late November up in the mountains felt like the ninth layer of hell.

Snow flurried, and I shivered harder.

The flimsy material of my toga was not warm. My arms and legs had turned a concerning shade of gray.

Everything ached.

I missed the stifling heat of summer.

Drex jogged beside me with a placid expression, his eyes slightly unfocused as he used his powers. “You’re doing great,” he said. “A little bit more, then it’s all downhill.”

A little bit more, then I kill us both.

“It’s so cold,” Nyx moaned.

Drex kept jogging serenely, lost in his head, unaware of my struggles.

Coughing miserably, I pumped my frozen legs and tried to stay beside him.

Ryax had disappeared up the mountain, but the rest of the initiates were only a few yards ahead. Bloody footprints stained the snow behind them.

“AHHHHHH.” A loud, high-pitched scream echoed from somewhere to the right.

I tripped.

Drex barely caught me as he also stumbled.

Everyone stopped running.

We whipped our heads around.

The noise sounded again, much closer, like it was fast approaching.

“Titans!” Cassius yelled, and there was a long pause of horror, then everyone panicked.

Arms pumping, legs flying, the seven of us sprinted up the narrow mountain path as fast as we possibly could. Icy drops slammed against us, somewhere between ice and snow, as we neared the peak.

“I’m watching your back!” Nyx shouted. “Just concentrate on running. I’ll let you know if anything approaches.”

I grunted in acknowledgment and kept sprinting.

“Titans on the path!” Cassius yelled loudly when we finally saw Ryax waiting for us at the top, his albino crow circling in the air above his head.

Ryax’s eyes widened, and his crow cawed as it dove onto his shoulder. “I’ll alert the Assembly of Death.”

BOOM.

He leaped away.

Cassius stumbled, and for a second, the seven of us stopped and stared, disbelieving that he’d left us all alone on the mountain without protection.

A Titan’s scream echoed loudly.

“I’ll try to get to the lake and alert Kharon!” Cassius yelled. Wings fluttered on his feet. Then he resumed sprinting, this time at an impossibly fast speed as he hovered over the ground.

He disappeared.

There were six of us left.

“FUCK,” Titus screamed, which was the most relatable thing he’d done to date, as the six of us ran down the path where Cassius had disappeared.

Arms pumping.

Legs pounding.

We sprinted down icy rocks at full speed.

Mid-stride, Leo tripped over a boulder in front of me.

His leg cracked horribly as it bent at an awful angle, foot stuck beneath it.

He screamed as he fell.

I stumbled to a stop and reached for him.

Everyone else kept running.

“Shit, kid,” Nyx shouted. “It’s approaching behind you!”

I looked back and gasped.

A Titan was about a hundred yards up the path.

Tall and skinny, its pale skin was covered in mottled black veins, and its humanlike features were hollowed and misshapen. Ragged scraps of clothes hung off it.

It resembled a rotting corpse.

I gaped.

In a blur, it sprinted forward.

Veined eyes were wide. Sharp teeth were bared. Black talons flashed.

It was fast approaching.

Dangerously close.

Standing beside Leo, I grabbed his hand and tugged on his arm to try to help him up. The Titan leaped forward from an impossible distance, its talons flashing.

Please budge. Freakin’ come on!

I yanked on Leo’s arm with all my might as he groaned, trying desperately to free him from where he was trapped.

Air whooshed.

Red splattered across me.

Close enough to touch, the Titan crouched over Leo and ripped out his throat with its teeth.

Leo didn’t make a single noise.

The hand clutching mine spasmed. Leo’s head flopped back, eyes unseeing, fingers slipping through mine.

I just held his hand as he died.

I backed away in horror, unable to comprehend the sheer brutality of what had occurred.

I kept backing away from the monster, down the mountain.

The Titan smacked its lips, spittle made of gore splashing out.

Abruptly—like it was hit by an invisible force—the Titan staggered back, swinging its arms wildly as its black blood sprayed.

Deep hair-raising growls echoed.

Where are those noises coming from?

The Titan kicked its foot forward with unnatural speed, and there was a thud and a whimper, like something invisible had attacked it and been hit aside. I patted my throat and Nyx was still there. What the heck?

The Titan lifted its head and stared.

Directly at me.

I sprinted down the mountain and looked back over my shoulder.

The Titan was still looking directly at me.

Freak, this REALLY isn’t good.

Scales slid against my neck. “I’ll slow it down, get to safety!” Nyx shouted, then she disappeared off my neck.

“No.” I stretched for her—fingers missing her invisible body as she flung herself off me and back up the mountain toward the monsters.

I slowed, waiting for Nyx.

A few seconds later, marks appeared on the Titan’s neck, and it grunted and slapped at its body with its claws.

Nyx shouted as the Titan stumbled around in confusion.

“Nyx,” I called as I stopped moving. “Get back here!”

“RUN!” she yelled.

“Not without you!”

I glanced back. The rest of the class had disappeared. In the other direction, Leo was sprawled dead.

Shaking from cold, adrenaline, and abject fear, I vibrated in place.

All I wanted to do was turn and run.

But I couldn’t.

“I’m not leaving without you,” I called out, praying she was close. The Titan kept stumbling around, like her venom had weakened it.

Cold scales wrapped around my ankle, and I sighed with relief. “What are you doing?” Nyx screamed as she climbed up to my neck.

The Titan stopped stumbling.

My breath caught.

It turned toward me and stared—teeth parted like a wild animal, eyes impossibly wide. Leo’s blood coated the bottom half of its face.

The Titan was twenty feet away.

In a blur, it lunged forward.

There was no time to turn and run.

It would catch me.

Shrieking between gritted teeth, I bent down and picked up a heavy ice-covered rock.

With trembling arms, I held it above my head and waited. Every cell in my body screamed at me to run for my life, but I shrieked and ignored the instinct.

Ten feet away.

I widened my stance.

Frick, this is going to hurt. Frick. Frick. Frick. Frick.

Five feet away.

You can do this.

Chucking the rock into the Titan’s face, I leaned back and turned as its claws swiped. The razor-sharp points grazed lightly across my shoulder.

Hot pain exploded.

I ignored it.

The Titan fell back, clutching at its broken face, black blood gushing all around it.

Scrambling for my rock, I picked it up and lunged forward. Slammed it down against its head.

The Titan moved with impossible speed, but the rock grazed the side of its face. Growling, it rolled to its feet in a crouched position.

On my knees, I didn’t have time to reach for the rock again.

Gritting my teeth, I got ready to throw myself at it. I had nothing but fingernails and rage. Nyx reared back on my neck, like she was preparing to bite.

It was hell.

But we were in it together.

The Titan let out a heinous wail as it lunged toward me. I squeezed my eyes shut and did the same.

BOOM.

Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop.

The collision never came.

I stumbled to my feet and righted myself.

A dark cloak billowed in the icy wind.

A Spartan straddled the Titan, chest heaving, two shiny guns extended.

Bullet after bullet unloaded.

“Glad you’re okay. Don’t touch him—he’s mine.” The Spartan turned to his right as he spoke, which was confusing because I was on his left.

Who is he talking to?

“I said, stay back,” the Spartan ordered.

No worries, I was actually not going to intervene. He’s all yours.

Black blood splattered.

The Titan gurgled and twitched.

Click. Click.

The Spartan jammed two more cartridges into the empty barrels and resumed shooting.

Long minutes passed; he didn’t stop.

“Holy crap,” Nyx whispered with alarm as she recoiled around my neck. “Are you seeing this?”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“Hot with a capital H if you catch my gist,” Nyx hissed.

I grimaced because I assuredly did not catch her gist. Also, I was starting to seriously worry about my taste in friends.

The Titan had stopped twitching or making noise. It was a limp carcass of mutated flesh, but gunshots still echoed loudly.

Finally, the Spartan threw both smoking guns to the side.

Nyx and I sighed (me with relief, her with an uncomfortable sexual undertone).

He pulled out a wicked dagger, knelt over the carcass, and started stabbing violently. Gore flung.

Eyes wide, I slowly got to my feet and backed away down the mountain.

Maybe I can get away before he notices⁠—

“Where do you think you’re going?” the Spartan rasped darkly. This time, he turned his head and stared directly at me.

Glacial blue eyes were on fire.

I froze.

“Shit—it’s him,” Nyx said.

I was jealous of her ability to swear. This was the perfect moment for it.

The Spartan got to his feet, cloaked head rising as he turned to me, sharp knife still clutched in his hand.

Kharon’s muscles bunched, chest heaving, as he pointed the knife at me.

Black blood was splattered across the shadowy planes of his sharp features.

He looks possessed.

No. He is the thing that possesses people.

I took another step back.

“Uhm,” I whispered articulately.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Nyx said. Now she was just showing off. Her scales slid against my neck as she slithered down into my toga to hide. “You need to run, kid. As fast as you can.”

I shook my head slowly and held up both my hands in a surrender gesture.

Rule number one of surviving in rural Montana: you never run away from the predatory wildlife. If you do, you die. They like the chase.

“Thanks for taking c-care of the Titan,” I whispered as I shuffled slowly backward. My chest burned with pain, and I winced as the motion opened my wound.

Kharon stalked toward me, long legs eating up the ground, holsters stretching across his chest and bulging thighs.

His tattered black creature cloak fluttered behind him, and his gate had a slight hitch to it, like he was limping slightly.

It didn’t slow him down.

A wicked blood-covered knife was pointed forward—directly at my heart.

Shuffling back faster, I whimpered when he got close, and my eyes squeezed shut on instinct as I waited for the blow.

Warm fingers brushed beneath my chin.

I squinted my eyes open.

Kharon tipped my head up slowly, thumb trailing gently against the edge of my jaw. His right hand cupped my face, and his left hand still gripped his knife.

He leaned close—his mouth hovered inches from mine.

I parted my lips.

The strange queasiness churned deep in my stomach, and a flush burned across my skin.

His breath hitched.

A calloused thumb dragged slowly across my jaw line.

“Alexis,” he rasped softly, fingers still stroking with unbelievable gentleness, his face close to mine.

“Kharon?”

“This is your last warning. If you ever put yourself in harm’s way like that again.” His voice shook. “There will be . . . consequences.”

“Why do you care?” I whispered. “You hate me—we’re enemies.”

He inhaled sharply. “Carissima, don’t test me.” His voice strummed with viciousness, lips centimeters away. “Please,” he begged.

“What?” I asked with confusion.

The fingers tightened into a vise, and I yelped as he squeezed painfully. His pupils dilated. “Why the FUCK DID YOU NOT RUN AWAY WITH THE REST OF THE INITIATES? YOUR LIFE WAS IN DANGER—CHTHONIC FUCKING LIFE!”

I blinked up at him as he bellowed into my face, numbness washing over me in an icy wave. He’s mad that I put my mentors’ statuses as generals at stake.

Breath caught in my throat.

“EXPLAIN YOURSELF,” he roared.

Phantom pains shot up both my wrists.

Flickering green lights—fists—ropes—pain—Mother screaming in my face.

Muscle memory took over.

I froze.

How to Take a Beating 101: Stay still and minimize damage. Don’t complain. Don’t flinch. Don’t react. Suffer in silence.

Everything warped and twisted.

My vision blurred.

I was insensate.

“Breath through your nose,” Nyx said soothingly. “He’s locked away, and she’s dead. You’re safe, kid. I promise.”

Glacier-blue eyes widened as they stared into mine.

Paralysis locked my limbs into place. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—couldn’t feel. Anything.

Kharon stumbled away.

He dropped his knife and swore under his breath, dragging his hands roughly through his short hair.

“FUCK,” he bellowed as he pulled harder at his hair and looked at me. “I didn’t mean to do that—I’m sorry, are . . . are you okay? Alexis?”

I tried to speak, but my lips didn’t work.

Kharon swore vehemently, looking more distressed by the minute.

He stared at the mutilated Titan. “I need to take it to the underworld—NO,” he shouted and turned back to me. “I need to get you away from here—I need to get you somewhere safe. You’re hurt. SHIT.”

Limbs locked; paralysis intensified.

“I need to take you back to the academy. He’ll know what to do.” Kharon’s words were raspier than usual, and his eyes crinkled with distress. “Can I—” He reached for me slowly “Can I touch you? Just so we can leap.”

I gave another jerky nod.

Gently, like I was made of glass, he grabbed my biceps.

“Come here, guys,” he said. To who?

The world exploded.

I barely noticed.

A muse yelped as we knocked into her, fireplaces crackled, and candles glowed in the hazy darkness.

Smoke billowed around us.

We’d leaped into the library.

Initiates and a few familiar Spartans with weapons drawn stood in a huddle. They must have come back before us.

Thank goodness everyone else is safe.

My stomach rolled.

But you couldn’t save Leo.

Kharon bellowed something as he laid me gently down on a chaise lounge, but all I could hear was a sharp ringing in my ears.

There was a commotion.

Patro and Achilles were leaning over me with panicked expressions. Patro yelled something in my face. Someone ripped him away and leaned toward me, but everything blurred.

“How the fuck did a Titan get all the way out here? It doesn’t make sense,” a masculine voice growled.

I drifted in and out of consciousness.

My eyes opened a tiny crack—a doctor knelt over me, wearing medical gloves.

Aren’t doctors not allowed in the crucible?

I tried to speak, but I was locked in some sort of sleep paralysis.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” a voice whipped cruelly from somewhere beside me.

The doctor froze. “I’m p-putting our newest healing cream on her wounds? You asked me to treat her. This should close the skin in hours.”

“Lay a finger on her,” the voice said calmly, “and I’ll cut off both your hands, then I’ll shove them down your throat. Then, while you’re busy choking, I’ll skin you alive.”

The doctor recoiled and dropped the tub of cream.

“Calm down. There’s no need to worry,” said a second, more reasonable voice. “If he touches her, I’ll stab him. You put the cream on her.”

Never mind, not reasonable.

The doctor left.

Who named two psychopaths as my medical proxies?

My lids shut, and I couldn’t open them.

Hands delicately brushed hair off my forehead. “Be gentle with her,” the second voice said.

“Obviously,” the first voice responded. Fingers gently glided across the wounds on my chest, like I was a doll that would break any pressure.

The hands on my forehead kept smoothing my hair back tenderly.

Maybe they aren’t so bad.

“That doctor pulled her toga down when everyone was present,” the second voice said softly. “If you hadn’t moved in front of her, they all would have seen her exposed chest. He would have dishonored all three of us.”

How does flashing my nipples affect them? Classic men, making everything about themselves.

“I know. I’ll handle him tonight,” the other man said as fingers carefully tucked a curl behind my ear.

“Use your sharpest knife.”

“Of course.”

Wait. What?

Hours later, I gasped awake.

I was sprawled on a chaise lounge in front of a fireplace, with bandages around my chest. A luxuriously soft black blanket was tucked around my shoulders.

The rest of the initiates were seated at the tables, studying.

Everything seemed normal.

Calm.

I must have imagined the voices threatening to stab people. Thank God.

With a yawn, I hobbled over to my usual seat.

“She’s alive!” Maximum smiled widely as I sat down, then grimaced when everyone glared at him.

Leo’s dead.

I rubbed my temples, wondering if it had all been a bad dream.

“It was crazy,” Maximum whispered in a loud voice (he literally couldn’t speak quietly if held at gunpoint). “Patro, Achilles, and Augustus leaped onto the mountain and took us all back to the library. But Augustus absolutely lost it when he realized you weren’t with us and were in danger. I thought he was going to murder everyone.”

“He’s just worried about my mentors becoming generals,” I whispered, and Drex gave me a weird look.

I shivered and pulled the soft blanket tighter around my shoulders.

Maximum narrowed his eyes like he wanted to say something.

“Can you help me with this problem?” Drex asked, and I was grateful he changed the subject.

When we resumed class a few hours later, Augustus was a dark cloud of fury. He screamed at initiates and glowered the entire time.

At least he’s angry at everyone, not just me.

“Alexis!” His voice cracked like a whip.

Never mind.

“Are you paying attention, or are you too busy daydreaming about your idiotic stunt on the mountain? Here’s some advice—next time, when you see a Titan approaching . . . try to run away from it, not to it.”

Titus chuckled and whispered something derogatory under his breath.

I stared at the floor and fisted my hands.

And the torment continued.