Chapter 3

3

Nemea

T he feeling of being unmoored intensifies now that Mel is gone. For several beats, I stare at the duffel and the locker I’ve been assigned, then start to unpack. As promised, I find towels, toiletries, and clothing: two sets of undergarments, and two sets of the same dark clothing I saw the women wearing in the barn—including cargo pants, tank tops, and a pullover—and sweats. When I open the locker, I find a pair of boots inside. Skeptical, I inspect them and find them in my size.

I don’t know why that should surprise me, but it does, and yet it is comforting to be in a place that pays attention to such details.

I pull out a towel and the toiletry bag, stowing everything else in the locker, then stash my satchel on top of it all. I don’t have much of value inside it aside from my sketches and pencils, anyway.

Once I’m standing under the spray of hot water, the exhaustion hits, magnifying the sense of being overwhelmed by everything that’s happened over the past few days. Has it been only days ? I wish I’d asked Mel what the date was. Don’t visitors to the Underworld lose time? Maybe I’ve been gone ages and the world Alcides brought me back to is years in the future.

But no… that can’t be right. They said something about the Titans making a demand that they’d come to collect on in a week. If they need me to be ready to fight, we only have a week to do it in.

That reminder only hits me even harder, and the tears start to flow unbidden. My gut’s a tangled knot of confusion and uncertainty, and the longer I stand under the hot spray, the tighter and tighter it grips me, until I’m doubled over. I brace one hand on the wet concrete floor, staring down at the water flowing into the drain while I clutch my middle, trying to suppress the silent sobs. Beneath my hand, my tattoo twists, coiling tentacles tighter around my upper arm as if in comfort. The ground trembles under my touch and my breath hitches.

No. I can’t lose control like this. Not when it might hurt someone without me meaning to. But it’s nearly impossible to rein it in now, no matter how hard I grit my teeth.

“Hello?” a light, accented voice similar to Mel’s calls through the steamy air. I inhale sharply, then scrub my wet hands over my face, pushing my hair back.

“S-sorry,” I say through sniffles. “I didn’t mean to wake anyone.” Thankfully the shaking earth calms, making me wonder whether it was all in my head.

“I’m a night owl, so no harm done. Everyone else is pretty dead to the world right now. I just came in to pee and heard you crying. I wanted to see if you were okay. The first night here is always the hardest.”

I peek over my shoulder and see the back of a woman in sweats and a tank top, her curly, dark golden hair clipped up at the back of her head.

She turns her head slightly, but keeps her eyes fixed on the wall.

“I’m not that modest,” I say with a chuckle. I’m finally able to take a breath and rise, then turn and tilt my head back to wet my hair properly.

She shrugs. “I didn’t want you to feel put on the spot or anything. My name is Ele.” It sounds more like she’s describing her name than telling me what it is. I must look confused, because she smiles and explains, “It’s short for Eleutheria. My mother is fond of symbolism. It means freedom .”

“Ah, I’m in touch with that. My name is Nemea. My mom had a thing for lions. Or Greece. Or both—I’m not sure. Though she never left the state she was born in,” I answer, inspecting the assortment of bottles in the toiletry bag, but only finding lotion and toothpaste.

“Shampoo is on the wall,” Ele says.

I glance at her, then to where she’s pointing. A trio of dispensers are bolted to the wall beside the faucet. I was so wrapped up in my own torment that I hadn’t even registered them when I came in.

“That’s handy,” I comment.

She seems to hesitate when I turn back to face her, lathering shampoo into my hair. Finally, she speaks.

“And I know who you are. I was there when they captured you. I… ah… was the one who grabbed you. Mel subdued your companion.”

She says “your companion” in a forced way, as if she’s not willing to say his name out loud.

“We were kind of sneaking around. I didn’t know where he was bringing me, but now that I do, I’m not surprised by the welcome party. At least it feels more welcoming now than it did at first. You’ve even got fucking shampoo dispensers in all the shower stalls.”

She relaxes. “We do our best. You may not get a shower curtain, but at least we’ve got halfway decent shampoo and conditioner. If you need something special in the way of bath products, just ask.”

“I’m pretty low maintenance,” I say. “You don’t have to stay and keep me company.” I tilt my face into the water and rinse. When I look at her again, I find her leaning with her hip against the low sandstone wall between the stall I chose and the one next to it. Her eyes are wide and fixed on my side.

My mouth quirks and I look down. “He’s harmless,” I say, swiping my hand over the eyes of my tattoo, which are wide and staring right back at her. “Cut it out,” I whisper. “We’re trying to make friends.”

“I guess that’s what I get for being nosy.” She lets out a nervous laugh. “Where did you come from? You’re not even human, are you?”

“Only part. I’m part everything, I think. But I grew up in Eastern Washington, believing I was human the whole time. I’m Bloodline.” I glance at her and find her frowning. “You know about the higher races, right?”

“And the gods. Who evidently don’t deign to meddle in human affairs anymore. Which is fine by me. Human men are just as bad, judging from the stories some of the newer residents share. I haven’t met many Bloodline yet, though.”

“We tend to gravitate to one another. It’s how we bond, I guess. But I have the misfortune of being different. I can only bond with demigods, or primordials, it seems.”

“Like Tartarus,” she says, eyes fixed on mine, curious but somehow understanding.

“So you heard all of that.” I finish rinsing and turn off the water, then reach for my towel when she hands it to me.

“Women often come in the middle of the night. Usually they don’t sneak in escorted by a legend, though. Did they hurt you in the prison?”

My cheeks heat and I stare down at my feet while I stoop to dry them. She clears her throat.

“I’m sorry, that made it sound like I think you only qualify to be here if a man has beaten you. You belong here as much as any of us do.”

“What makes you so sure?” I ask with a wry laugh.

She cocks her head toward the door. “Alcides brought you. He has not set foot in this land for centuries. Mother didn’t think he’d ever return once she learned he’d offered his services to Tartarus. It’s rare for anyone to leave that place once they’ve entered. And yet here you both are.”

“Your mom… she’s been here a while, I take it?” I am cautious with my words. I know how cagey and mistrustful damaged women can be. How difficult it can be to trust anyone when the world has given you little reason to. But when your entire world is only one man, I get it.

Before my grandparents gained full custody of me as a kid, I lived with my mother in a shelter, off and on. She went back to my father over and over until she finally broke free, only to place her entire trust into a different man who didn’t allow room for me in her life.

Life with my grandparents wasn’t that much better. It gave me a first-hand look at why my dad was such a bastard. I didn’t get free of them until my twenties, but the jury is out on whether my current circumstances are much better.

I remember one of those stays in the shelter, meeting women who had arrived pregnant and given birth while they were there. I remember how tightly they held their babies, how terrified they were of allowing the world in to corrupt them with all the broken promises and disappointment. I imagine Ele’s mother might not have been all that different from them.

But that impression is dashed by Ele’s answer.

“She’s been here since the start. Hippolyta is my mother. She built this place after Alcides left her. After my father left her.”