Chapter 2
2
Nemea
A mazons.
The moment she utters that word, I’m overwhelmed by loathing and dread. The name only incites the dark memories of how my hometown was effectively indentured to a colossal corporation that commodifies the humans toiling in its distribution hubs. I was one of those humans from the time I could work without it being considered child labor, until I had enough money scraped together to buy a bus ticket at age twenty-four and get the fuck out. I didn’t care where I went, only that I put the place behind me.
The urge to flee resurfaces, pressing in. A tightening feeling winds around my torso, unsettling in its intensity, before I recognize it’s my ink shifting on my skin as though trying to shed itself from my flesh. Thunder growls above. The woman loosening my bonds glances up before fixing her sharp gaze on me.
“We’re the good guys, Nemea,” she says. “You’re safe with us.”
I wince and tamp down my chaotic power, mentally soothing my tattoo at the same time. Before the name was associated with an oligopoly—or even a river—it had another, more ancient association, the one for which the river was named. I really wish I could enlist Rachel’s help in the St. George School library to read whatever information exists about these women. Everything I know came from a comic book.
“I know. I’ve just got some baggage. Where are they taking him?” I lift my chin to the wide-open doorway the other women, led by Antiope, escorted Alcides through a moment ago.
“To meet with the boss, as requested.”
“Hippolyta’s the boss, right?”
“Yes. She’s our queen.”
“So… how worried should I be?” The knot in my gut won’t subside, partially because of the tight hold I have on my magic, which might cause too much destruction if I let it slip again even a fraction.
The woman chuckles and steps back. “You’re his fate , or so he says. So I’d say you have nothing to worry about. My sister’s been over him for centuries, but it was a pretty one-sided affair anyway. He left even though she offered him an escape from his labors. It was foolish of him not to stay, in my opinion. But I guess he didn’t believe he’d find atonement without completing every last challenge. Between us, I hope he found it.” She steps back and turns, gesturing for me to follow.
I silently contemplate this information as I fall into step with her, and we head toward the rear of the barn past the fighting ring.
The air back here is dense, tinged with the scent of sweat and leather. Shafts of moonlight spill from small windows high in the walls above, casting a checkerboard pattern across the well-worn floor.
My gaze skims the fighting ring at its center. The worn ropes are evidence of countless skirmishes, while the canvas mat reflects the toils of the combatants in its scuffs and stains. An earthy smell of raw linen mixes with a faint, metallic hint of blood—old battles lingering like ghosts as these women fought out their demons. Were they running too?
The area around the ring reminds me of Chrysaor’s room, with its array of armor and weapons displayed like honored relics of war. Punching bags hang from sturdy beams, their surfaces a patchwork of repairs. Kettlebells and dumbbells lay scattered on racks, dulled and chipped from use. Gloves, some new with pristine leather and others aged with cracked seams, wait silently for their next training session.
I can almost hear the echoes of grunts and shouts that must fill this place in daylight, resonating within these walls as the Amazons train and spar with the women they protect. The atmosphere holds a palpable energy—a testament to strength and determination of those who seek refuge here—yet in this moment, it lies dormant, holding its breath as we pass through.
Or maybe I’m the one holding my breath, uncertainty gripping me about this new place I’ve been tossed into, leaving me feeling again like I have no control over the trajectory of my life and wondering whether I ever really did—or ever would.
Despite the sense of being pulled along a track, I feel untethered, at the mercy of whichever direction the winds of Fate might blow. The only thing that allows me to feel grounded is my link to the mates I’ve bonded, which I hesitate to reach for now, lest I risk Vesh finding me and hauling me back to the prison.
Which didn’t even feel like a prison until Chrysaor told me I couldn’t leave. Am I doomed to never recognize when I’m trapped until it’s too late?
“Where are we going?” I ask, following my statuesque guide through a rough-hewn wooden door in the rear of the barn.
“We have a policy of never turning away women in need. You’ll get a bunk for the night and a meal. Supper is over, but the kitchen is open. Are you hungry?”
“Do you have a library?” I blurt.
She turns back to look at me and cocks her head. “Yeah. Do you want something to read?”
“For research,” I say, suddenly feeling stupid for asking. “On… whatever I can learn about, um, Amazons.”
She lets out a small snort and stabs her thumb at her chest. “You want to research Amazons? Why not just ask an Amazon?”
My face heats and I mumble, “Yeah, that would make sense, wouldn’t it?”
She gives me a wry smile. “There’s always the internet too, though if you have access to the source, it seems silly not to use it. What do you want to know?”
I suddenly draw a blank, grasping at anything to make conversation. “What’s your name?” I finally ask.
“Melanippe. Everyone calls me Mel. I’m Antiope’s second, and her sister, in case you didn’t think you were important enough for the general’s attention.”
“That hadn’t occurred to me. I’m nobody.”
She snorts again and stops beneath a pool of light from one of many strands of bulbs that are strung overhead between the buildings. She’s darker in complexion than Antiope, with jet-black hair arranged in tight coils against her scalp. The stripe of a faint scar runs down the side of her face, ending just below her jaw and causing a deep crease to form when she frowns.
“You make the earth move when you’re upset, Nemea. Even if you weren’t also sought by Chaos—and potentially the Titans too—power like that makes you someone. Alcides did the right thing bringing you to us. We can teach you to command that power in a constructive way. Or de structive, if that’s what’s warranted.”
“Anything’s got to be more constructive than how they were doing it. Not that I can complain.”
“Let me guess—they were using sex as a training tool. Yet you still left. If they forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do, we can make them pay.”
“No, I was willing. I’d have stayed if Vesh hadn’t tricked me into being there in the first place. He told me I was free to leave, except he left out the part that nobody there is really free to leave. Except Alcides, I guess.”
She studies me for a moment, as if assessing whether I’m being honest about not being forced. After a moment she shrugs. “Yeah, his sentence was self-imposed. Come on, let’s find you some food before I show you to your bunk for the night.”
She starts up a path on a slight incline that leads to a large building overlooking the valley. A motion-activated spotlight blasts to life when we reach the steps, so bright it startles me. The bulb instantly shatters.
“Fuck. I’m sorry.”
“I hate that fucking light. Don’t worry about it.”
“You seem to know a lot about Alcides. What else can you tell me?” I ask, continuing through the shadows until we reach a door sporting a glass window lit from within. The atmosphere when we step inside reminds me of the downstairs cafe at the school where Rachel and I sat up, eating cereal and poring over books about Greek myths. This place has a distinctly more Mediterranean feel, though, with whitewashed plaster walls and worn stone floors. But it smells sweetly of coffee and baked things, which makes my stomach rumble.
Mel doesn’t miss a beat, heading straight to the back through a set of swinging doors. Through a pass-through, I watch as she opens a fridge to haul out an assortment of chilled meats and cheeses, as well as several jars of olives and pickles. She piles everything on a large cutting board, popping an olive into her mouth as she heads to the nearest table and motions for me to sit.
The big room is cozy despite how large it is, with more than a dozen long wooden tables, worn from heavy use. A fireplace sits dark and dormant at one end, with an assortment of leather armchairs arranged around it. A shield hangs on the wall above it, painted with a scene depicting dark, feminine silhouettes engaged in battle.
When Mel sits, she continues in between bites of food. “He lived with us for about a year—just long enough for us to almost forget that he had a dick. We’ve always isolated ourselves from the world of men, but Alcides made us start to believe men weren’t all that bad. That maybe it was just the gods who were assholes.”
She didn’t provide plates or utensils, so I eat with my fingers right off the cutting board like she does, chewing and swallowing before I respond.
“I don’t know him that well, but I suppose the fact that he brought me here says something. I trusted the wrong man and wound up in prison. Story of my life.” I let out a rueful chuckle and rip into a hunk of bread, layering meat and cheese on it before taking a big bite while I brood over my poor life choices.
“Well, despite how he left things, him bringing you here tells me he hasn’t changed. I mean, he was a shit for deserting my sister, but I was always surprised he stayed as long as he did. He was too tortured over what that cunt made him do not to finish his labors and atone. ” She shoots a wary gaze to the ceiling.
“You mean when his stepmother drove him to madness and made him murder his family?”
Mel scoots her chair a little closer to mine and lowers her voice. “He told you?”
“Not in detail, but it’s not like I could ask him to recount the event. Do you know what happened?”
“You know who his father is, right?”
“Zeu—” I begin, but she shushes me.
“He’s the worst of them,” she says with a grimace. “But his wife isn’t much better. Nothing is ever his fault. You’d think gods would be capable of holding each other accountable. I can’t tell you the number of women who’ve come to us after an encounter with him, provided his wife didn’t get to them first. The Furies themselves couldn’t dole out enough torture to even the score with either of them.”
The look on her face strays from mere distaste to a banked rage, emphasized when she produces a large hunting knife from a sheath at her belt and stabs into an apple in a bowl in the center of the table.
“Hmm,” I say, nodding and feeling just a little guilty about digging into Alcides’ past this way, instead of just asking him. But how do you broach the topic of the time a guy massacred his family while under the divine influence of a vengeful stepmother?
Mel proceeds to slice the apple into quarters and core it. She offers me a piece, which I take, my belly happily buzzing with the satisfaction of being slowly filled. I haven’t eaten since breakfast with Asterius, I realize. The last thing I swallowed was Chrysaor’s cum. Which was tasty. Who knew demigod semen could be so delicious?
Mel chews and swallows, then takes a deep breath. “Anyway, she has always had it out for her husband’s bastards. Any chance she can get to torment them, she takes. And that poor bastard caught the worst of her wrath.” She stabs the point of her knife toward the door. “By all accounts, he’d settled down to just live his life among mortals—wife, kids, the whole package. If she’d left well enough alone, he might have faded into the background and been utterly forgotten. But seeing him happy must have rubbed her raw.”
“So she destroyed what he had,” I say with a nod. “Worse, she made him do it himself. No wonder he keeps his distance.”
Mel stands and disappears back into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a pair of dew-laden bottles and two frosty glass mugs. She sets them down before raising a bottle and mug, then gently tilting the mug to decant the fizzy golden brew into it.
Once filled, she hands me the glass, setting the empty bottle down on the table to pour her own. I peer at the label, which depicts a hop flower surrounded by a meandering labyrinthine design. “Nemean Brew ,” the label reads.
“You brew this here?”
“The hop and barley fields are on the other side of the compound,” she says, gesturing with her glass as she licks a foam moustache off her upper lip. “Chief brewmaster and vintner are two of many roles I fill here. I’ll be training you as well.”
I take a long swallow of the cold beverage and moan in pleasure at the perfect, semi-fruity crispness and the wash of floral aroma from the hops. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted beer so delicious.
She chuckles. “Careful, it packs a punch.”
“I should warn you I’m not exactly athletic.”
“Training with us is less about strength than it is about discipline. But for the sake of argument, let’s see what you’ve got.” She shoves the remnants of our snack aside and props her elbow on the table, waving her fingers in the air. “Give me your hand.”
I stare for a second before understanding hits. “You want to arm wrestle?”
“Just want to get a baseline. Not that some of the residents aren’t game for the kind of training you’re used to, that’s not something we rely on here.”
“You mean sex.” I rest my elbow on the table and clasp my hand over hers.
“If Hippolyta lets him stay, you can still practice with Alcides. But you won’t necessarily have the option to fuck the Titans once you face them, so it’s best to train in other ways too. Ready?”
I give a nod. She nods back and tightens her grip. The lights overhead flicker momentarily as my pulse picks up. I want to prove myself now, even if it’s just to show I’m not a complete weakling. I grit my teeth and focus, staring hard at our hands and gripping back, leveraging my hand against hers as the strain tightens my biceps.
But before I can blink, our forearms are flat against the table and Mel gasps, then stares at me.
“Fuck, girl. How did you do that?”
I’m still staring in shock at where I’ve pinned her hand to the table, then quickly release her.
“I—I forgot I’m stronger now. Did I hurt you?”
She rubs her knuckles and laughs. “I’ll survive. I guess I’ll have to be careful with you, but at least this means I don’t need to hold back.”
“Okay, now I’m officially scared,” I joke.
She gives me a wicked grin, then knocks her knuckles on the table. “Help me clean up here, then I’ll show you to your bunk. Someone will give you the grand tour by daylight.”
I rise along with her and pick up my empty glass, following her back into the kitchen where we wash our dirty dishes and put everything away. Despite the novelty of spending a few days in Tartarus—where the prison had a mind of its own, with magic that managed all these menial tasks—it feels nice to do simple work next to a friend.
We work silently side by side, but the entire time I’m preoccupied by what she said. I won’t have the option to fuck the Titans once I face them.
Once I face them.
I’ve known for days that my summoning Pan was linked to their escape, and Vesh and the others have hinted at some urgency in my training to control my magic. This is the first time it’s been said out loud that I will be expected to face them, though.
As we finish up, I venture, “Why do you assume I’m going to have to face the Titans?”
Mel’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Because you have the power of Chaos in you, Nemea,” she says, as if that explains everything.
When I just stare blankly back at her, she sighs and motions for me to follow. She leads me back out the front, into darkness conspicuous now for its contrast against the lights strung up high farther down the path. She looks up at the broken bulb.
“Power like that can’t easily be countered. It’s too wild. We’ve known of the Titans’ escape for days now. We sent scouts to investigate a sighting of them about five hundred kilometers north of here. They were no doubt headed to Olympus. Whatever they want with the temple, it’s not going to turn out well for humanity if they get it. Then add to that the fact that Alcides shows up here tonight with you, suggests there’s some upheaval going on in Tartarus since their escape. He has been loyal to Vesh for thousands of years. Hasn’t set foot in the mortal world in all that time. But he left for you.
“It doesn’t take much to put the pieces together. Alcides’ sense of duty is strong. He wouldn’t just let their escape slide, but he also wouldn’t allow an innocent to suffer. Seeing what you can do, it makes sense that he’d bring you here. While Vesh and the Brothers Bane have the power to train you, they won’t be as effective if you feel trapped.”
“So I’m really here to prepare to face them, not just for my own sake.”
Mel offers a tight smile. “It’s one thing you’ll get used to if you stay with us. We are fighters at our core. Every woman here is given a chance to heal, but if she stays, she knows it’s because we have a duty to be ready to fight and she wants to be of service. I wish I could tell you that you’d have time to simply get to know yourself better without being shoved into battle, but I can’t promise that. It’s likely this battle will happen soon.”
I stare up at the jagged glass poking out of the light socket, stomach churning. It isn’t with fear, at least, but maybe just frustration at the realization that there is no escaping my fate, though I’m not yet sure whether I’m ready to fully embrace it.
My skin tingles pleasantly from what feels at first like a light breeze, but the deliberate weight of it tells me otherwise. It helps ease some of my worry.
“We can fix that tomorrow. Don’t worry about it,” Mel says, waving a hand at the broken light before moving on.
“I’m not scared of the dark,” I say, more relaxed now with the sense of having Erebus lingering in the shadows nearby, as if summoned by the conversation. A vague pressure inside my skull suggests he isn’t the only one trying to get my attention. Typhon is somehow here too. As much as I appreciate their concern, I’m not ready to open up to them again just yet.
I jog to catch up with Mel, whose boots crunch over pale gravel down the hill to a squat stone building surrounded by flower beds. She pushes the door open carefully and steps inside, motioning silently for me to follow. The interior is mostly dark, but a tiny light casts a glow from a far corner, slightly illuminating the rows of bunk beds on either wall. The light comes from the lower bunk at the far end, where one woman is still awake, reading a book. The others are sleeping peacefully, faint snores coming from a few of the bunks.
Mel takes a detour midway down the row to a door that opens into a locker room. She pauses by a shelf and makes a hum of approval. “Pen’s on top of things, like always,” she says, grabbing a duffel and turning to me. “Clean clothes, towels, toiletries—anything you’ll need while you’re here, and if you need more, just ask.”
I take the proffered bag, unsure what to do with it until she swings open a locker and points. “Yours. And your bunk is the one with the same number. Showers are through here.” I make note of the “26” on the locker before following her into a dank, cool room of polished tile with rows of showers divided by head-high partitions without curtains.
“Not a lot of privacy here, huh?”
“The barracks are for sleeping and bathing. If you want a quiet place to have a moment to yourself, or to share with a friend, we have places for that too. The hot springs are a favored spot, but it’s a bit of a hike to get there. There are also a handful of secluded buildings scattered around the property.”
“But not with a man, right?”
She lifts an eyebrow at me. “I don’t know if Alcides will be allowed to stay. If he is, it will be up to Hippolyta where he’s lodged, but if I know her, she’ll isolate him from the women. Whether you’ll be permitted to visit him will be up to her too.”
“I just meant in general,” I say, cheeks heating.
“The rules don’t change for sex. But we don’t police our residents’ methods of blowing off steam. If anyone absolutely has to have a man to fuck, she’s welcome to visit one of the villages and find one. This isn’t a prison.”
She says the last bit with emphasis, letting me know she’s fully aware of where I’ve been.
“Anyway,” she says, turning away. “I’ll let you get settled in. My bunk’s the one nearest the door if you need me. Breakfast is at eight in the main hall where we were earlier.”
I reach out and grab her arm as she turns to go. “When can I see Alcides?”
She shakes her head. “It isn’t up to me. Sleep well, Nemea.” She rests her hand atop mine, then disappears back out the door.