Chapter 12

12

Alcides

T he trip inside Nemea’s sacred space is a gentle slide into paradise. We land on stone steps facing gardens filled with flowerbeds, still new and mostly achromatic, with faint colors beginning to bloom on otherwise drab surfaces. I stride down the steps and turn to look back. The entrance to her sanctuary is a temple itself, a tholos reminiscent of one of the few temples ever built to honor me centuries after I pledged my service to Tartarus.

I count ten columns, with doors between them, each unique in architectural features that mirror aspects of my fellow guards. They float between the columns, no wall or structure behind them. But neither do the doors of Tartarus necessarily make structural sense.

The most vivid door is bracketed by vines and trees with blossoms hanging over the lintel. Pan has been part of her for the longest, so it makes sense that his has more color.

The next door is black with reptilian scales covering it and snake’s eyes peering out over the top and around the sides. Typhon’s door.

I make a circuit of the building, taking in all the others. They are slightly less detailed or colorful, but easy to discern who they belong to. Asterius’ has a heavy golden ring for a knocker in the center, and a pair of massive horns at the top, and Chrysaor’s features feathered wings and a golden sword down the center. I reach my own, a heavy door of solid hewn wood with the visage of a lion carved into the top third.

All but mine are padlocked, and I don’t even see one for Vesh, only an empty space where one should be in between Pan’s and Typhon’s. There is a second empty gap between two other columns too, an unaccounted-for space. For another door? Another mate? There are no other primary guards of Tartarus besides the nine of us.

I pause in front of Pan’s door again, eyeing the chain and lock that wrap around it.

“I’m not letting any of them in again right now. I’m not ready.”

I turn and meet Nemea’s wide-eyed gaze. She’s apprehensive of even my presence here, as if she’s afraid I might throw open all her doors and let everyone invade her space.

“We don’t have to remain here. But you should know you can trust them as much as me. They would move mountains for you. They would fight Tartarus himself for you. You have but to ask.”

“It’s him I don’t trust,” she says. “He betrayed me. And don’t get me started on the whole semantics of how what he said wasn’t a lie. He knew I’d misunderstand.”

She stares at the doors, lips pressed tight together, then she grabs my hand and we’re abruptly back in the bathing cave, lying on the stone floor again.

“He will never harm you as long as I draw breath. No one will. Not even Tartarus himself is immune from retribution if he were to cause you pain or suffering. The Furies may reside in the prison, but they follow their own code.”

“The Furies,” she says, her gaze going distant. She toured the prison with Asterius, so no doubt saw the chamber where the prisoners were continuously tortured by the team of terrifying women with razor-tipped whips. It’s not an easy image to shake. “Why is he such a fucking hypocrite?” she mutters.

“Because I wasn’t prepared to meet my mate,” comes a deep voice from the shadows at the back of the cave.

My head whips around and my protective impulses take over. I spring up, flinging lightning through the air straight at Vesh’s head. He discorporates just as the bolt reaches him and cracks the stone behind him. Then he’s solid once more, his skin crackling with purple fire.

The ground begins to shake when he takes a step closer, eyes on Nemea. Water laps over the edges of the pool from the violent sway of the earth.

He halts, and I look worriedly up at the ceiling of the cave, then back at Nemea.

“Run, Nemea. I’ll handle him. You have nothing to fear while you’re with me,” I say, placing my body in front of her.

Vesh lifts an eyebrow and directs his gaze at me. “I didn’t come to cause harm, Alcides. I just want to talk to Nemea, and then I’ll go.”

“You want to talk ?” she snaps, rising to her feet and coming to stand at my side. “I suppose you’ll explain why you fucking lied to me?” She stiffens and bares her teeth when he smirks. “You lied by omission, asshole, and you know it.”

Our new bond gives me a rare sense of her power fluctuating deep inside her. A strange thing happens when she stands her ground and reaches within, as if calming a wild beast. The shaking stops.

Then, one by one, she removes all the padlocks on the doors within her sanctuary.

I can feel them waiting—Pan, Asterius, Chrysaor, Erebus, and Typhon. All five are there, watching, ready. It’s Pan whose presence rises first, a warming in the air beside me. When Nemea speaks, her words carry the ancient, primordial power of the fertility god.

“I won’t let you trap me again,” she says, and this time the words slice through the air like they have substance, resonating loud enough for the cave walls to shake again and the water to shimmer from the vibration.

Vesh blinks and steps back, shaking his head. “I didn’t come to take you back, Nemea. I came to apologize. But we don’t have the luxury of time right now. I need your help to bring the Titans to heel by the end of the week.” He glances at me. “Her training needs to move fast. Combat training like the Amazons provide takes time. Teaching her to focus her magic is more important. If not me, at least allow me to send one of the others. Her bonds with us increase her focus and her power.”

“You know it isn’t up to me,” I say.

“You can influence Hippolyta, convince her to allow another guest. Your opinion still carries weight, even after all this time. Tell me I’m wrong.”

My jaw tightens and I look down at Nemea. The cave has gone as still as the dead, and she looks like she’s holding her breath. Which of the others will he send to join me in watching over her?

“You aren’t wrong. Nemea will need incentive to maintain focus, and as long as she’s willing, her mates might provide the best option, but you know their rules here.”

“Do I get to choose?” Nemea asks.

“Men aren’t allowed here,” I tell her. “I’m an exception because of my relationship with Hippolyta, but even my time here is limited.”

“Who do you want?” Vesh asks.

“I want Campe.”

I’m not sure why I’m surprised by her choice, because I shouldn’t be. But the ancient dragon has been just as aloof as I have among the guards of Tartarus for almost as long as I’ve known her. I somehow can’t quite picture Nemea fulfilling the bond with her. The most intimate Campe’s gotten with any of us was merely observing when the others would play, and only going so far as to place a hand on one of the parties to absorb their magic when they climaxed. Dragons don’t need to fuck to fill their wells; they just need to be adjacent to the fucking.

Vesh inclines his head to Nemea, then looks my way again, brow furrowed. “Nemea, can we talk in private?”

“You can say anything in front of me.” I cross my arms and plant my feet wider, caring little about the fact that I’m still stark naked, clothed only in Nemea’s scent. But I’m not oblivious to the fact that that alone seems to affect him, which provides some satisfaction.

His nostrils flare, but he nods, taking us both in when he begins to make his case.