Chapter 6

6

Vesh

A casino heist wasn’t something I expected to have to pull off, especially not the one my team and I are technically tasked with protecting from break-ins.

“We know the layout of the Pandemonium inside-out, so this should be easy, in theory,” I say, my voice a low rumble echoing off the walls.

Pan snorts, his fingers drumming against the table. Before us, an ultraviolet rendering of the vault itself rotates in mid-air. “And you think just because we manage security at that glitzy hellhole means we can waltz in and take it?”

“Nearly,” I counter. “Chaos might be cunning, but he trusts us to keep his treasures safe. All but one.” My eyes narrow at the thought of the vault—sealed by magic no being, save Chaos himself, can unravel.

“So spill it,” Pan urges, leaning forward. “How do we crack open this nut without drawing his attention?”

I pace before him and the others, my face still throbbing from the beating Pan and Campe gave me. The soreness becomes a distant memory as the plan takes shape.

“There will be no cracking. It’s impervious to damage of any kind. We must coax it open. The vault is enchanted to recognize its master’s essence.”

Pan grins wickedly with understanding. “Are you talking essence, or…?”

Campe snorts. “He’s not foolish enough to just leave that kind of power laying around, unlike some people.” She eyes Pan, who studiously ignores her.

I stop pacing and face him squarely. “Not to worry. I know just what we need to get it.”

Pan straightens up, interest piqued.

“Chaos’ libido responds to only two things: his bride and his chocolates.”

Pan chuckles darkly. “You plan to seduce his spunk out of him with a chocolate? Because I don’t see you getting under Sybil’s skin.”

“No.” I allow myself a smirk. “We’re going to steal it from under his nose during one of Sybil’s grand soirées.”

Everyone leans closer, eyes brightening with interest. A party is the perfect thing to get them all invested. It’s also the perfect venue to secure the element needed to crack open that vault.

“Please do tell how exactly you propose to get that creature’s semen without him noticing?” Campe asks.

“With your help, my lovely dragon. He isn’t immune to the effects of certain mind-altering substances, and dragon breath is the most mind-altering of them all. You will trick him into believing you’re his bride while the faun distracts his actual bride. We all know how debauched Sybil’s parties can get, so it won’t be an unusual occurrence for her to want a private moment with her mate. Chaos will believe the ruse. And Sybil’s been wanting to get her tentacles into Pan’s pants since the start. Satyrs are her favorite creatures to molest.”

She frowns. “You’re forgetting that I won’t have my full power while I’m piggybacking on one of your clones. Every iteration weakens my magic.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’ll be setting you free.”

Everyone rumbles in dismay about the unfairness of Campe being allowed to leave while the rest of them must remain prisoners. They’re only allowed into the world while riding along inside a copy of me, morphed to look like them. I raise my hand to quiet them.

“I don’t just need you for the key. The party isn’t for a few days, which will be cutting it close with our timeline, but the more crucial piece of this is Nemea. There’s only one place Alcides would take her, and you’re the only one of us who can join her there. I need you to go to the Amazons and impress upon them the need to let you guard Nemea and help train her. We have only a few days until we confront the Titans, so time is of the essence.”

Campe’s eyes brighten with excitement, and she stands even straighter. “I won’t fail you. How will the rest of this heist work?”

I lay out the plan: In three nights’ time, Sybil is set to throw one of her infamous gatherings—ostentatious displays of excess meant to lure in the rich and powerful for her to have a taste of them, to gain leverage and manipulate. But I am hopeful she isn’t beyond manipulation herself. Pan will be the bait, easily seducing her and keeping her occupied for the night.

Campe at full power is capable of shifting into any creature she wishes, so she’ll take Sybil’s form, divert Chaos for some carnal fun, drug him with her breath, and capture his semen, which she will then pass off to Erebus, who can easily spirit it via shadows straight down to the vault, where I’ll be waiting. From there, all I’ll need to do is apply my boss’ essence to the door, grab the key, and head straight back to Erika and her team. Chrysaor and Cerberus will each be on watch for the two lovers to make sure we aren’t caught, and Typhon and Asterius will remain behind to oversee the prison in our absence.

“As security chief,” I continue, “I’ll ensure our paths are clear of any... complications.”

An impatient rumble rises from all around us, even louder within my mind. I’ve sensed Typhon’s unrest growing ever since Nemea’s departure. As the most even-tempered of all of us, I’d hoped he’d let it go. A moment later, a shadow passes across the window of our war room, followed by a thud that shakes the tower as he lands on the bridge outside and peers one big eye through the narrow window.

His deep, resonant voice causes the image of the casino map to vibrate. “Let me go this time, brother. Disguise me like the others. I need to be there. Either take me, or send me to Nemea.”

“You’re needed here, little brother,” I say. “And you know the Amazons only allow women. Alcides is only there on a technicality.”

He snorts hot steam through the window, filling the room in a fog. Chrysaor blinks and waves a hand in front of his face, then extends his wings and flaps them a few times to chase the fog away. Cerberus, true to form, looks bored and starts licking his balls with one of his three wolfish heads.

Erebus solidifies and rapidly signs, “ You and Pan can give him any shape you wish when he’s occupying a clone. And the Furies would happily guard the prison while we’re away. There is no reason not to have all your best guards involved in this. Asterius too. ”

I stare my brother down, unmoved by his silent pleas. The fact that he is signing rather than speaking right into my mind is telling.

He wants the others to see. The bastard is deliberately trying to undermine my authority. But as the warden of Tartarus, it is my duty to maintain control.

“The answer is no, Erebus. I will not allow Typhon to accompany us, nor will I release Asterius from his duties here.” My voice echoes firmly off the stone walls. I don’t elaborate because I shouldn’t have to.

Erebus’ shadowy form ripples in agitation, his hands flying in angry signs I pointedly ignore. The others are watching raptly. Cerberus even perks up, all three of his heads swiveling between the two of us.

Outside, one of Typhon’s giant eyes presses against the window, the steam from his snorting billowing through in wisps. Several smaller heads writhe through the gaps above and below the slitted green orb. Though he remains silent, I can sense his simmering resentment through our telepathic bond. He has always been the most curious among us, longing for the experiences he’s been denied since birth due to his fearsome shape. I fear granting his wish will only lead to greater yearning. Or worse, betrayal.

No, best to keep him here. The risk is too great otherwise.

Erebus finally stills, resignation weighing down his dark shoulders before he melts into the shadows. Typhon blinks one last time before giving the bridge one heavy stomp that makes the tower tilt to a sharp angle, forcing all the rest of us to grab the table for balance. It’s all I can do to mentally right the structure as my brother takes wing, trumpeting his displeasure.

I suspect this argument is far from over, and it throws me off-balance as much as Typhon’s tantrum threw the tower off-balance. The lingering psychic echoes from the pair burden my mind with notions of “fairness” and “potential.” As if our purpose here is anything more than eternal vigilance over the damned.

I turn my focus back to the heist plans glowing before me, ignoring the echoing departure of my brothers. We all have our duties. Mine is to retrieve the key, the final piece of bait we need to recapture the Titans.

As my remaining guards keep staring, I bark, “Anyone else have any grievances to air before we proceed?”

I let my gaze fall on Asterius, who scowls at me, but shakes his head.

Cerberus lets out a yip from one head and a growl from another, while the third is back to licking his balls.

“Cerb, I would appreciate it if you’d pay attention. You’re part of this plan, though if you’d prefer to stay in the prison, Asterius can take your place.”

The big hound emits a disconcerting whine from one head and stands. He rises onto his hind legs, his three heads merging into one as he steps up to the table. He scrubs a hand through his unkempt hair, then down his face, shaking his head as if shaking off a bad dream.

“I’m up to speed, boss,” he says, his voice a peculiar blend that seems to echo disparate undertones. His eyes flicker, briefly clouded with uncertainty that mirrors the merging of his minds. He doesn’t shift often if it isn’t necessary because of the occasional conflict that arises when three separate consciousnesses merge.

An odd, abrupt laugh escapes his lips—a rare slip of composure that hangs awkward in the air.

“You can count on me, always solid for Typhon, right?” His words jumble, though his loyalty seems clear, if tinged with an unintentional emphasis that contradicts our hierarchy. He gestures vaguely to the window Typhon vacated and the lingering wisps of steam that hang there, shimmering faintly purple in the light from outside the room.

Realizing my brother is no longer there, he frowns, then gestures to the shadows across the table. “Seems like Erebus is the one we need, though. Right, boss?” His voice trails off, yet again bringing into question whether he even knows who he’s talking to. His gaze shifts as if seeking my other absent brother.

Awareness finally fills his eyes and he heaves a weary sigh, slumping back into a chair against the wall. He rubs at his temples, massaging away the confusion that haunts the edges of his expression. “And Nemea… she’s central to all this too.” His tone softens, a pained grimace betraying his urgency for connection. Perhaps I should feel guilty for not facilitating his bond with her sooner, but her departure complicated matters to his detriment.

A sliver of genuine concern crosses his features as he looks back at me. His eyes search for something unsaid—a silent plea for equilibrium amongst the escalating turmoil. Equilibrium I’m not sure I can offer.

“My brothers know their tasks. And we’re all aware of Nemea’s importance to our mission. It’s the rest of you I need to make sure are clear on the plan. As we were discussing, Cerberus, you are tasked with keeping watch over Pan and Sybil at the saunas, while Chrysaor keeps watch in front of Chaos’ door. Sybil might want to make an orgy of it, but you are not to join in, got it? Naturally Campe will need to get Chaos alone so as to not give away our ruse. And to avoid contaminating our sample.”

“And what about after? Even with Chaos’ spunk in hand, opening that vault won’t be child’s play,” Pan points out.

“The essence will persuade the vault to open,” I explain. “It’ll believe Chaos himself stands before it.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Pan asks.

“It has to,” I reply.

Our plan is simple yet potentially devastating—a single misstep could spell disaster for my entire team, which is why my brothers’ displeasure sits so heavy on my shoulders.

But such is the nature of our existence now: teetering on the brink between Fate and Chaos. The stakes are too high for us to fail though, and glancing around the room at my team confirms that they understand how crucial it is that we succeed.

“When shall I go to Nemea?” Campe asks. “Surely you don’t want me to wait. There is little enough time remaining to train her as it is.” Her eagerness is well-contained on the surface, but I can sense her champing at the bit. Whether it’s simply the prospect of freedom that has her excited or of finally having Nemea mostly to herself, I can’t be sure.

“As soon as we’re finished today. I need to return to the Pandemonium for final reconnaissance and to get a look at the party arrangements in case there’s anything I may have overlooked. I need you all along for the ride. Then you can go to her.”

She cocks her head and narrows her eyes at me.

“What is it?” I snap. “I thought you were excited about this.”

“I am. But don’t you think there’s one thing you overlooked?”

I stop, fixing her with a look that has sent lesser beings scurrying. “Speak.”

She leans on the table, pinning me with one of her fiercest looks, as if to remind me that she’s older and wiser than I am. She’s the eldest of all of us. “First, you need to stop biting everyone’s heads off if you want this plan to work. We’re on your side, in case you’ve forgotten. Your brothers are too, so a little leniency with them can’t hurt. But more importantly, you owe Nemea an explanation at the very least. And an apology.”

My pride bristles at the thought of reaching out to Nemea after all that has transpired—after Alcides’ flight has cast doubt on my decisions, and now my own brothers seem to want to sow discord among the team.

Disconcertingly absent are the ever-present opinions of my brothers swirling around the back of my mind. Neither of them are here, which means they’ve gone to her. Never have my brothers been so angry with a choice I’ve made. Not even after that godsforsaken battle we fought on the island where Typhon lost three heads.

Asterius seems to sense my reluctance. “Vesh,” he says softly, “it’s not just about mending fences. It’s about ensuring our plans don’t unravel because we neglected one detail. A decision, I might add, that is slowly causing rifts to form among our ranks. There is only one thing that will mend those rifts. If we ever want her back, it has to start with you.”

He is right; Asterius often is when it comes to matters of foresight.

With a sigh that feels like it drags up from my very darkest depths, I relent.

“Fine,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll go talk to her.”

Asterius gives a slight nod of approval, and they all return to their duties, leaving me to absorb the conversation. There is no time to dwell on it now, though. With the power of a thought, I return to the Pandemonium and gird myself for the preparations for our heist.