Chapter 22

22

Nemea

M y stomach lurches into my throat, and three other voices rise in startled cries and curses. It’s dark and the world is spinning far beneath me. Brilliant lights are a strobing blur alternating with darkness. A loud noise cracks the air like thunder, and I’m abruptly caught around the waist in the grip of something enormous.

The spinning stops suddenly and I’m hauled upward, only catching my bearings in time to be set on a hard surface. Three figures materialize before me out of a cloud of utter darkness. I look up into the iridescent fire of Campe’s eyes, only they’re larger now, and set in the face of a massive dragon with tarnished scales and a pair of chipped horns.

Before I can say thank you, I collapse to my knees and retch.

It’s several moments of staring at a puddle of puke before I can find my voice.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Campe’s hand is on my back, rubbing in gentle circles. I glance to the side at her. “You could’ve been seen.”

“No one saw me. My scales are reflective from a distance. I’d blend into the sky if anyone looked up.”

I only nod, then turn to the others. Alcides has his hands braced on his knees, staring fixedly at the ground.

“You guys okay?”

Erebus signs something that I actually manage to understand for once. He caught them.

Then it registers that Typhon’s body has morphed slightly, a handful of small snake heads jutting from his collarbone, and the tip of one dark wing swaying behind his shoulder. But he looks far from frightened.

“What’s up with you?” I ask, wiping my mouth and rising shakily to my feet.

“I’ve never been in freefall without wings before. That was… fun.” He grins at me.

“You need to pack it in, brother,” Alcides says, righting himself. He gestures with a smirk, and Typhon finally notices that the edges of his human form have started to blur. He closes his eyes and the monstrous pieces of him merge with his human body once again.

“Sorry,” I say again, looking sheepishly at each of them.

“Don’t worry, I was ready,” Campe says. “You did well for your first time. We got within fifty feet of our target. Why don’t we practice some shorter-distance trips? Can you take us to the ground from here?”

She’s at the very edge of the open-air observation deck we landed on, leaning one hip against the guard rail. I venture over and peek, but the floor below stretches out to slanted windows and I can’t get a straight view to the ground from here.

“Is there an elevator?” I squeak.

“Why don’t we try some horizontal teleportation first?” Alcides suggests. He turns and jogs several yards around the platform and stops, turning back to face us. “Come to me, Nemea.”

This I think I can do. I square my shoulders and fix my gaze on the spot right in front of Alcides. The act of teleporting is pretty easy, and within a blink, I’m in front of him, staring up into his handsome face. My arrival brings a gust of warm air through that blows his hair back and makes him blink rapidly.

“Hi,” I say with a smile, then rise on my toes and kiss him.

“Hmm, good job. Now go back.” He spins me on my feet and smacks my ass. I face the others, and in an instant, I’m with them again.

Now that I’m getting the hang of it, I decide it’s time to take a passenger. I reach for Ty’s hand and he gives it, sliding close and curling his arm around my waist. Before I can teleport us to Alcides again, Ty whispers, “Let’s go higher. There’s a roof to this thing, right?”

I look up, scanning the higher points of the top of the building we’re on. There’s a small structure with a window that looks like some sort of lookout station, but the top looks wide enough for two people. With a thought we’re there. From there I just barely have a vantage of the roof. I’m on a roll now, so I just go.

“Fuck yes!” Ty exclaims when we land. We’re in shadows with a red glow cast from above. The spire above us is bordered in red lights all the way up, but I can’t see the top from here.

“Do you think we can make it?” he asks, staring up into the night sky.

“I don’t think I can go if I can’t see where I’m going. Unless I’ve been there already, anyway.”

He looks disappointed, then meets my gaze. “Is there anywhere you’ve already been that you want to return to?”

I let out a snort. “Not likely. I mean, I liked the island, and I’d go back, but I’m kind of persona non grata there right now.”

He laughs. “Good, because I’m definitely not welcome on that island.”

He sobers and studies me, half his face awash in the red glow of the neon that lights up what looks like a catapult-style thrill ride up to the peak. There are bench seats with straps around each of the four sides of the spire.

“What about your home? Will you take me there? I’d like to see it.”

My stomach lurches as if we’ve just gone into freefall on that ride.

“Home was never really home for me,” I say.

His eyebrows twitch, his aching need to know me palpable through our bond.

Would it really be that bad to show him?

“Okay, but on two conditions. One, we’re coming right back, I don’t want to leave them hanging.”

“Fine. And your second condition?”

“You tell me why you look so sad.”

His nostrils flare and he looks away. For a second I think he’s going to back out, which would not bother me. I can find other ways to get him to talk that don’t involve introducing him to the wasteland that is my hometown. But he finally returns his gaze to me and nods.

I clasp both his hands and take us back to the place I swore I’d never return to as long as I lived.

I land with a thud, my feet kicking up a cloud of dust in the dim light of a parking lot. The familiar glow of the faded store signs flickers overhead, painting an eerie scene that tells me I’m right where I want to be—or at least where I intended to go. The air smells like cardboard and diesel, and my stomach churns with the mix of recognition and revulsion.

“Here it is,” I mutter to Typhon, the roughness in my voice betraying my discomfort.

He scans the desolate strip mall with his brilliant purple eyes, then looks back at me. “This isn’t home, is it?”

I shake my head, feeling a knot form in my throat. I almost summon the will to teleport us away from here, back to somewhere—anywhere—else. But his challenge halts me; it’s like he sees right through me.

“You didn’t grow up in a strip mall,” he says softly.

I sigh and let go of the magic building within me. “No. I didn’t.” With a resigned breath, I reach out and take his hand, leading him away from the shadows of the empty stores. We walk side-by-side through the small town that’s barely more than a glorified interstate rest stop, but that shaped me in ways I’m still unraveling.

As we pass by my old high school, it’s as though every step echoes down empty hallways and across locker-lined walls. It’s been a decade since my graduation, but sometimes it feels like part of me is still trapped here. Memories bubble up—friends, fights, first loves. Despite how fleeting they all were, they’re so vivid it’s like they’re waiting just around the corner.

Finally, we reach Whispering Pines Estates—the name always made me roll my eyes. The only pines are the ones in the forest a mile away. The trailer park is nothing more than dirt lanes and patches of brown grass. My pace slows as we approach, feet crunching over the dry turf; there’s a hesitance in my steps that Typhon picks up on immediately.

“You can disguise yourself,” he whispers from beside me. “You have the power. If I can do it, so can you.”

I’ve never tried to alter my appearance before; it’s always been about getting out, not hiding away. But now... now feels different. I don’t want to go in there as Nemea again, ever.

In the shadows of the sign, I close my eyes and focus on Rachel’s image—her trim frame, fair skin, and light brown hair—a stark contrast to my own features.

When I open my eyes again, Typhon’s look of surprise is all the confirmation I need that it worked. With newfound courage—or maybe it’s just stubbornness—I lead us deeper into the park.

We arrive at a lane lined with double-wides that are trying too hard to look like something they’re not. There it is: my grandparents’ place, neat as a pin on the outside with flower-filled planters hanging off the small deck railing. They’re all fake; neither of my grandparents give a shit about nurturing living things.

Two men sit there: one old enough to be worn down by life itself, the other worn down by choices he made long before he had any right to make them—my grandfather and my father.

My breath catches in my chest; every part of me wants to scream or cry or run—but I do none of those things. Instead, I freeze and whisper fiercely to Typhon without turning around.

“I don’t want to look at them. I can’t look at them.”

He doesn’t argue or ask questions; he just squeezes my hand once before we turn away from what might have been another life—the one I barely escaped by the skin of my teeth.

We land back on the upper viewing platform of the Stratosphere where the other three are leaning on the railing enjoying the view. They turn as a unit when we arrive and are instantly on alert when they see my face; it’s mine again, but likely still shows signs of coming face-to-face with a nightmare.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Campe says. Alcides comes straight to me, cupping my cheek in one big hand.

“I’m fine, really. We went to my hometown.”

“We know,” Alcides says. “Erebus followed you.”

I glance at Erebus, who signs, “No wonder you ran. Those men have darker souls than mine. Would you like me to return there and end them?”

“Death would be too easy,” I grit out. “But no. I don’t want to be responsible for hurting anyone, much less outright killing them. I just want to move on.”

He grins deviously. “I will tell the Furies to expect them when they die.”

“I’m sorry I made you go there,” Ty says softly. He looks so dejected I reach out a hand. He hesitates to close the distance, so I go to him, curling my fingers at the back of his neck.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you were with me. But we had a deal. You owe me your story now.”

He visibly swallows, then cuts his gaze to the others who stand close around us. When he doesn’t immediately speak, Campe says, “I can tell her if you’d prefer.”

Typhon hesitates, and for a moment I think he’s going to take Campe up on her offer. But then he straightens his shoulders, a gesture so human it makes my heart ache for him, and he shakes his head. “No, I promised Nemea. I’ll tell it.”

I’m about to press him, curiosity burning like a fever under my skin about Campe’s involvement, but I hold back. This is Typhon’s moment, his truth to share. And I respect that.

He takes a deep breath, and I can almost see him reaching back through centuries of memories. His voice is low when he starts, the words halting as if he’s pulling them from a well too deep and dark.

“I was... created by Chaos,” Typhon begins. “A gift to entice the Mother Dragon.” My brows furrow at that. The Mother Dragon—a figure shrouded in legend and mystery. “Chaos wanted to show her what they might create together, their own race to rival those born of Fate’s unions with the gods.”

I nod because I know the stories—how Fate mated with four gods, each representing an element, birthing the higher races. Dionysus with Fate for the Nymphaea; Gaia with Fate for the Ursa; Ouranos with Fate for the Turul; and the Mother Dragon with Fate for the dragons.

“The Mother Dragon chose Fate instead of Chaos,” Typhon continues, “and Chaos... he didn’t take rejection well.” There’s a bitterness in his tone that makes me shiver. “He created my sister Echidna and forced us to breed. Our children were monsters like us—Cerberus, the Nemean Lion Alcides slew... even the Caucasian Eagle tormenting Prometheus. There were others, but those are the ones I was allowed to see when they were born.”

My mind reels at this new connection, recalling Prometheus’ voice echoing in my ears during my tours of the prison. A tortured Titan bound by his own sacrifice—now linked to Typhon through this shared history of pain.

“And your sister?” My voice is barely above a whisper.

“Echidna,” Typhon says with a sadness that envelops us both like a shroud. “She remains in Tartarus, isolated in one of the darkest corners ever since she lost her mind when her last child was taken.”

I feel sick at the thought of these creatures being used as pawns—bribes for gods or experiments in cruelty. “And the others?” I ask.

“They were given to the gods,” Alcides admits quietly beside me. “As gifts or challenges. I was responsible for killing two of them. I nearly killed Cerberus too, but he was my last labor and I was weary of death, so I took him to Tartarus instead.”

The weight of their stories presses down on me like a physical force—stories of beings manipulated and forced into existences they never asked for by powers beyond their control.

Campe finally speaks up, her voice laced with guilt and resolve. “When I learned what Chaos was doing, I pretended to be my sister in an attempt to claim Typhon and Echidna myself. My sister had turned a blind eye, too busy with her Fate-spawn, to care about the fallout from her rejection of Chaos.” She looks at Typhon with an apology in her eyes that no words could convey.

I’m still processing everything when Erebus signs again from where he stands just out of reach. “We knew nothing of our brother and sister, or their offspring, until Campe was sent to Tartarus.” He looks at Typhon now, something like kinship in his dark gaze. “That’s when we asked Chaos to commit them into our care.”

Their stories weave together—a tapestry of pain, defiance, and survival against all odds. And as I stand here surrounded by these beings who’ve suffered so much at the hands of others, I can’t help but feel both fury and an overwhelming need to protect them from any more harm.

But right now, there are more immediate concerns—like surviving whatever comes next in Vegas. We need to be ready for anything Chaos might throw at us. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from these stories—it’s that monsters aren’t born; they’re made. And we’re not going to let anyone else suffer that fate if we can help it.

“I’m ready to go down now. I want to see this Pandemonium for myself.”