58

58

Artemis’ Labor

I am the last to walk into the cave for the next Labor.

I pass through the doorway onto a damp rock surface and pull up short when Diego steps out of the shadows. He went right before I did, so he hasn’t been waiting long, but…

“Why are you still here?” I ask, eyeing him warily. He swore, same as the others. No harm or hindering.

Except his gaze is as warm and kind as his smile, which soothes a bit of my tension. “We haven’t had a chance to talk much, but did anyone tell you I’m a father?”

I stare at him, then shake my head. He’s in his mid-forties, though, so I’m not surprised.

He nods. “Two. Marisol and Gabriel. They are ten and twelve years old, and they are my life.”

And I can’t help the twinge of liking starting to grow for this man who is my competition.

“Even though they may never find out what happened to me…” His shoulders go back. “I want both of my hijos to be proud of their papá, no matter what. I will play these Labors with integrity.”

My heart twists. Because to yank a father away from his children, one who clearly cares for them… How could Demeter have done that when she’s recently lost her own?

“You earned the right to start this Labor before me,” he says. “That’s why I waited.”

Oh. He really, really means it—about competing with integrity. “I know they are proud,” I tell him. “You are a good man.”

“Muchas gracias.” Then he grins. “But you only think that because Demeter’s blessing for me is charm.”

She made him likable. Must be nice.

I shake my head. “I know when people are good versus likable.”

He sobers a little bit and offers me a sincere smile. Then he takes a deep breath and steps back, ushering me ahead of himself.

Which is when I finally get a good look at the start of Artemis’ obstacle course. What I see is a cavern lit by lanterns hanging from stalactites, illuminating a series of tiered balance beams. I glance down to see that it’s only about a twenty-foot drop, but it’s onto thousands of stalagmites that look like teeth.

No Daemones in here—not that I can see, at least—but that doesn’t mean much.

“Pretty sure that fall would end me,” I murmur to myself, but Diego laughs.

“Don’t take too long,” he says. “Bats. That’s what comes for your flags in here. Small ones and some nasty-looking larger ones that could knock you off if they wanted.”

So I get to dance with Dracula-makers? Shudder. “Great.”

I look down again.

“Did anyone else—” I cut off the question. I don’t want to know. I just won’t look down, so I don’t have to see a body if anyone did fall.

“Not on this part,” Diego says. “But I’ve heard—”

A howl of pain shoots out of the other end of this cavern, and I’m pretty sure it’s Samuel. What on earth could make him sound like that?

“Screams,” Diego finishes. “From the next part.”

This just gets better and better. I blow out a long breath and take the first step. The beam doesn’t move and is solid. It’s also only about six inches wide.

Don’t think about that.

If I pause, I’ll trick myself into falling, so I try to be quick across the beams, doing my best to handle the sharp turns right and left and the changes in height. Only a few wobbles and one windmilling-arms maneuver, but I’m still up here. Footsteps right behind me tell me Diego’s keeping pace easily.

We’re about halfway across the cavern when a distinctive squeak is followed by another, and another, and the sounds of flapping, and then Diego shouts, “Pick up the pace!”

My heart is pounding in my chest as I glance to my right, and I make out a swarm of bats blocking the light of one of the lanterns. Then another lantern, closer. And another. And the squeaks of their echolocation fill the room.

I go. I go as fast as I can, only having to pause once or twice to not fall during transitions between beams. We’re almost to the end, where the last beam stops at a ledge that leads to a small, round tunnel.

Almost there.

With a flutter of wings, the bats swarm us. I stumble when my foot hits solid ground, and I go down, smacking my knee into the rock. I grunt but don’t have time to worry about it because two strong, invisible hands pull me to my feet.

The bats whirl and dive like a tornado, trying to get at our flags. Diego practically shoves me into the tunnel, which looks like a drainpipe made of corrugated metal. It’s small enough that we have to drop to our hands and knees to dive in.

The second we’re both inside the pitch-black darkness, the bats stop. I mean really stop, not just give up and fly back to their roost. It’s more like the instant we got in here, they ceased to exist.

“That’s one.” Diego sounds annoyingly chipper. I can’t see him. He’s clearly wearing his ring.

One down. Unknown number to go. “Did you lose any flags?”

“No.”

Really weird, talking to nothing.

I blow out a silent breath of relief. I’d hate it if I was the reason he did. “Good. Me neither.” Then I turn to face the nothingness in front of me. This kind of darkness is…suffocating. Like you’ll never see light again. But I’ve lived underground most of my life. Darkness is one fear I don’t deal with.

Inertia is the real killer. That much, I learned the hard way. Starting at my knees, I quickly feel up the rounded sides of the pipe.

But when I get only six inches from the bottom, a shock zaps through me, and I yelp, jerking my hand away. The electric charge lights up what is definitely a drainpipe. I shake my hand, breathing through the pain that is turning to a burning on the side of my palm where it struck. “Don’t touch anything but the bottom,” I tell Diego.

I assume that even though he’s invisible, he can still touch.

“Got it.”

We get moving.

My knee, already bruised from that rough landing off the beams, is not appreciating this at all, but I grit my teeth and try my best not to notice. Not like I have options.

Maybe ten feet in, something grabs me from the side, and I scream as I jerk away from it, right into the side of the pipe. Another zap shoots through my shoulder. The spark lights up the tunnel, and horror sucks the air from my lungs. There are holes in the tops and sides of the pipe and hands sticking out of them to grab our flags or push us into more pain.

“Fuck,” I mutter. “Did you see that?”

“I saw what got you.”

I describe the rest, and Diego groans. “How about this,” he says.

Suddenly, the entire tunnel illuminates, the brightness coming from behind me. Diego’s grin is audible in his voice. “Sometimes the glow comes in handy.”

Thanks to his halo.

I laugh. “I bet sometimes it doesn’t.”

But he has the ring to go invisible, so he’s covered. That halo really works.

“Let’s go fast,” he says.

Fast seems to be the theme here. “Yeah.”

And we go. Even with the ability to see the hands reaching for me, I lose count of how many times I’m shoved into the wall and shocked. I thank my lucky stars for my short hair, which they keep trying to grab but can’t. It’s hard to tell, but Diego seems like he’s faring much better.

I can’t say how long we crawl before light appears ahead of me.

“Almost there!” I shout and go even faster because I want the hells out of here.

Almost there. Almost there.

The light widens as we get closer to the end. A hand shoves at me, and my cheek smacks into the metal on the other side. The shock feels like it melts my cheekbone under the skin, and I can’t help the guttural yell, but I keep going.

Until the instant I feel the Courage flag rip right off my spine with a hard tug, and fear crashes through me so hard and fast that my muscles lock up and I face-plant.