Blood of an Ancient (29 page)

Panicked sobs locked in my chest over and over as I crab-walked back from him, kicking out hard every time he got close. I hit his shoulder, his hand… I heard the crack of his fingers and this time, my cries couldn’t be contained. Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision and I choked on the sobs that punched like fists into my throat.

It didn’t matter what I did.

His anger or his evil or whatever they’d soaked into him so thoroughly blocked out everything but his desire to hurt the thing in front of him. His entire life had become a battle for survival. Kill or be killed. He only saw enemy and every single time I hit or kicked him, my heart shredded more.

When the top of my head brushed the wall, I could go no farther, so I rolled fast and hard, ignoring the pain in my elbow and in my leg and rib. I swallowed back all of that and just focused on getting away from him. I made it to the wall with the chains before he was on me again. He slammed me onto my back and sat on my stomach, his hands once again going around my throat. Air cut off, the pressure behind my eyes growing, I clawed and bucked. When I threw my arms out, I touched the coolness of metal. One of his chains. Frantic, I inched my hand down until I could get a good enough swing.

The chain slammed into the side of his head. His eyes closed, he fell off me and staggered to his feet. He lurched side to side for a moment before staying in place. Swaying.

I stood, sobbing, hurting, and watched blood drip down the sides of his face and down onto his shoulders and chest. He stared at me and I caught something, something that clicked inside me. A hint of something, a memory. It passed over his face like a flash of light.

“No,” I whispered. “We are not doing this. This is not us.”

I ran at him, jumped and wrapped my arms and legs around him as tight as I could. Putting my mouth to his ear, I whispered over and over, even as he tried to pry me off with his weakened hands.

“Remember me. Remember me. Remember me.”

I didn’t let up on my chant, even as he wrapped hands around my hips, dug in his fingers and pulled hard. I tightened my arms and my legs, kissed his ear and kept repeating those words over and over. Then I said, “Remember this? This is me, Beri, loving you.”

Nikolos staggered to the side, his hand going out to catch himself on a wall, his other hand pulling on my broken arm. My scream of agony made him go still. Then he grabbed me with strong hands and flung me to the ground. He stood there, chest heaving as he breathed, blood dripping down his face and again, I saw a flash of something. This time, black showed briefly before his eyes bled back to red. He reached up to wipe the blood from his eyes, took a menacing step toward me.

“Nikolos, please,” I whispered, looking at him with all the anguish I felt for him, all the fear that I’d taken too long to get here, all the love that had somehow built into this powerful burst of belonging. I belonged to him.

“And you belong to me,” I said out loud. “Remember? Me, Beri, loving you.”

The red faded from his eyes, replaced by horror. He paled and fell to his knees.

“Beri?”

I sucked air into my aching lungs, nodding at him, trying to smile, but unable to make my face work around the damned sobs I couldn’t stop.

The blood from his head wound flowed hard and fast, and he slumped forward, his hand reaching for me as his eyes turned red and rolled back. I caught him and turned him gently to his back before frantically feeling for a pulse. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “Head wounds bleed a lot.” I spoke aloud for my own benefit because he couldn’t hear me. “I remember that from school.”

I needed to stop the flow of his blood, so I hurriedly worked open the fastenings to my stupid medieval costume. The hood, large and roomy and still kind of clean on the inside, would work. I ripped it off the top, noting that the audience above me had gone silent again. I didn’t give a shit about them seeing me like this, but I slid the mangled top back on and held the wadded-up hood to his head.

Doors clanked open and Kampe strode into the arena, her nasty shark grin full of happiness. “That was magnificent! But it is a fight to the death, is it not?”

I pressed on the material, hoping I gave his wound enough pressure. “How could it be a fight to the death when I’m the one who fought for his freedom?”

She made a
tsk
sound and waved one claw in the air. “Ariadne was so much brighter. I can’t help but wonder if the other half of you got all the brains.” She started toward me again.

I held up my free hand. “Don’t come any closer to him. How long has he been here like this? How long have you made him a spectacle of your barbaric sport?”

She tapped that claw on her chin. “He wasn’t a very good warrior at first, of course. That took time. Training.” She grinned. “Torture. But he has been my champion for more than fourteen turns of your full moon.”

It was a wonder my heart could beat, my lungs could breathe with the fury taking up all the space in my chest. “I’m going to kill you.”

She shook her head. “You could try. Would be pointless. Besides, I prefer a good challenge, so we’ll let you rest up…let that arm heal first.”

I touched one of the scars on Nikolos’s forehead, wiped blood out of his eyebrow. “I won’t be here that long.” I looked back up at her.

“Won’t you?” She raised her face to the audience, elevated her voice until it bounced off the walls in a dull roar. “For whose freedom did she bargain?” she yelled.

The response was loud and enthusiastic. “Tholos!”

“Yes, Tholos.” She turned to face me. Still with the raised voice, she addressed the audience without looking away. “And did she bargain for her own?”

“No!”

I could only stare for a long moment, then I shook my head. “I’m not a prisoner here, I came of my own free will.”

“And that somehow makes you exempt from our laws?”

“What laws?” I laid Nikolos’s head gently on the ground and slowly got to my feet. Every muscle in my body hurt and my arm was still numb. Gritty dirt crunched in my teeth. “I came here to get him back. You speak of laws.” I snorted. “Is this not the Realm of the Discarded? The place for those who are unredeemable? He gave up his life to save many. He doesn’t fit the profile.”

“He also took the life of a being of perfect light.”

I narrowed my eyes, then spit some of the dirt out of my mouth. “You could never convince me that that is something that matters to you.” I waved my hand at the audience. “To them either.” I took a step toward her, lowered my voice. “You punished him all this time because he thwarted your escape attempt. This is nothing more than petty revenge. You’re nothing more than a silly creature who feels sorry for herself.”

Her features tightened as she flushed red with rage. Ten claws snapped out as she threw out her arms. I braced to fight, knowing there wasn’t enough energy or strength left in me to live through this, but I wouldn’t go down easily.

“Enough!” came a roar from above.

I didn’t risk taking my eyes off her as she looked into the stands, the red flush leaving her face so fast she grew unnaturally pale. Whoever had just spoken scared her. I could see it in the sweat that popped up on her throat and forehead, in the sudden cornered-animal stare. She backed away from me far enough to make me feel safe to look up.

The jet-haired man stood, arms crossed, power blaring from his body like radioactive waves. All eyes were on his thunderous expression.

Kampe moved and my gaze whipped back to her so fast I got dizzy. I kept from falling over by sheer will alone.

“Put her in with Tholos.” She told the guards. “Give them a night together before summoning Charon.” She made a slashing motion with her claws. “You would have lost in the end if it were not for his love for you. Guess the waters of the Lethe and Phlegethon are no match for what lies deep in the heart. I’m actually quite touched.”

“What you are is dead.”

Her expression closed up as she stared at me for a long moment. “We’re in the Realm of the Discarded. I’ve been dead a long time.”

When I came to I was on a soft bed next to an unconscious Nikolos. I touched his arm to see if he was real, waited for his eyes to open, to shine blood-red. When he did nothing but let out a soft snore, I turned my head the opposite direction because I could feel someone’s gaze on me. Phro sat in a chair by the bed, her feet propped up, her arms around her knees.

She wasn’t the only other person in here. My gaze was drawn to the power that spread out from one corner of the room. Sprawled in a red velvet chair in the corner with his long jean-clad legs stretched out, one hand on his massive thigh, the man—no, god—with the black hair stared back at me with my own eyes. His hair was like Nikolos’s had been—thick and falling down his chest.

“Who?” I croaked out, then raised my fingers to gently poke at my neck. I imagined it looked pretty bad from where Nikolos had tried to strangle me.

“Your neck is one massive bruise,” Phro said. “Gods, your
body
is one massive bruise.”

My attention went back to the god and when he leaned forward, one corner of his mouth went up. I gasped because in that moment he looked like Castor. If Castor had long, silky black hair and shoulders the width of a small closet.

I knew who this was.

Ariadne’s father. King Minos. I also didn’t know what to say. It’s not every day you meet your grandfather. I started to sit up, then winced at the pain, even as I grimaced in embarrassment to see I wore no clothes. Tugging the sheet up, I frowned at Phro.

“Don’t look at me,” she snapped. “I didn’t undress you both and pop you into bed.”

This time, I sat up slowly, careful to hold the covers over my chest. The room was nothing like the dirty pit I’d expected to wake in—the one I’d found Nikolos in before. We were on a huge canopy bed with luxurious burgundy blankets and black sheets. I carefully moved my legs under the covers, feeling the soft material against my bare skin.

“Kampe said I couldn’t leave.” I put my hand gently on Nikolos’s chest, happy to feel his warmth and the movement of his ribs as he breathed. I had no intention of staying in this world. None. I planned to go home. With Nikolos. “I’m not staying here.”

Phro shook her head, hair swinging softly against her cheeks. I noticed then she had bathed and now wore a long skirt and sleeveless top in a beautiful royal-blue color. Matching sandals wrapped her feet and ankles, and disappeared under the skirt.

I looked again at myself and Nikolos, felt a thread of panic enter my chest. “We’re both clean. You’re clean. Please tell me it wasn’t water from the Lethe.”

“It wasn’t.”

Something in her expression raised a bell of alarm in my head. I glanced at the silent god who watched me with a steady gaze that had me fighting the urge to squirm. Squirming would hurt.

“Phro, what’s going on here? Apparently I only bargained for Nikolos’s freedom and not my own. I didn’t know I had to bargain for my own freedom because I came here of my own free will.”

She briefly glanced at the god. “You no longer have to bargain for your freedom. We are all free to go.”

Stunned, I waited for more information, then couldn’t stand the silent regard from that corner. I clutched the covers to my chest and stared back at him. “Why do I not have to bargain for my freedom?”

Phro started to answer but I shushed her. “No, I’d rather hear it from him.”

“Bergdis, this is—”

I cut her off with a look. “I know who he is.”

“The resemblance give me away?” His voice—that incredibly deep voice—was so full of power it resonated throughout the room, raised goose bumps on my arms.

I nodded, completely overwhelmed by everything. The bone-deep pain I felt all over, the fact that I faced King Minos, once the ruler of Crete and now underworld god of judgment, and this new twist—the fact I wouldn’t be stuck here.

When King Minos didn’t speak right away, Phro started up again. “You can’t leave by the Styx. Nikolos can, but he would end up on the opposite side of the Earth and he’s”—she took a deep breath—“he’s going to need healing time and he’s going to need you. The effects of what he ate and drank here won’t wear off altogether. In fact, Tisiphone doesn’t believe he can recover fully at all.”

I ran my hand up to his shoulder. “He will. He’s strong. Look at what he did for centuries, what he did here. He will be fine.” I tightened my fingers on his skin. “If we can’t leave by the Styx, do we have to go back the way we came?”

She nodded.

Closing my eyes, I worked to keep from losing it in front of my grandfather. I couldn’t make that trek, not in this shape. Everything hurt. When I opened my eyes, I looked right at him. “Is it your doing? That I can leave?”

He inclined his head. “You could not stay here anyway. Look at your arm.”

I pulled it out from under the covers and gasped. Black lines crawled from the long scar to wrap my entire arm from elbow to shoulder. They weren’t pretty lines, like some kind of tattoo, but ugly, harsh lines of infection. Demon infection. The wound itself ached like it had been reopened. “What’s going to happen to me?” I whispered, my fear so strong I couldn’t raise my voice in that instant.