75

75

Win, Lose, Or Die

I don’t know what I expected Hephaestus’ first automaton to be like, but for damn sure it wasn’t a tiny child made entirely of gold standing at the center of the circular room.

The door shuts behind us, leaving the space lit by lanterns and a single window on the opposite side. The automaton kid, who looks like he’s about three years old, slowly lifts a wicked-looking butcher knife, and his sweet bow of a mouth stretches into a smile that’s pure evil. His tinkling, delighted laugh fills the room as he runs right at me, slashing wildly with the blade.

“Holy shit!” I yelp.

I grab for my axe, but I’m so rattled by the murder-child that I miss the pocket for it. Fumbling around, I dodge and run. Boone gets between us and punts the metal kid across the room. The automaton hits the wall but gets back to his feet and giggles before charging us again. By this time, I’ve given up on my axe. There’s something about chopping a child, even one that’s an automaton, that I just can’t stomach.

Dodging the homicidal, laughing demon-toddler, I pull the wire twine from my vest that Zai returned to me after Dionysus’ Labor.

Boone sees what I’m doing and, without a word, works with me.

It takes another punt from Boone and both of us working in tandem, dodging the automaton three more times before I finally manage to tackle the thing from behind as he chases Boone. I wrap the twine around him until his metal arms are pinned to his sides. The second he stops squirming and drops the knife with a clatter, a hidden door to our right swings open.

I see now why running this course alone would be a disadvantage.

“Not bad, Keres,” Boone says.

He’s not even winded. I am.

Inside, we find a winding staircase of stone weathered by the tread of centuries of feet leading upward. When we reach the next level, the door is already open.

Inside, we find a brass owl perched in front of a chess board.

I laugh.

Chess is the only game the Order keeps in its dens. In fact, they insist all the pledges learn how to play and play well, claiming that learning to think strategically is a key tool for all thieves. Good thieves, at least.

I’m actually good at this. So is Boone.

Ha!

Boone and I study the board, which is already mid-game. Then we sit in the chairs provided and start working. Four moves in, he gently covers my mouth with his hand. “Sorry, but you’ve really got to get a handle on that habit. It could get you killed one day.”

I wrinkle my nose at him, then pull away. “I know.”

It takes longer than I would have liked for us to finish the game—mostly because Boone and I have to stop to argue strategy—but we finally manage to put the owl in checkmate in seven moves. Another door swings open.

Boone grins. “Damn, you’re good. When we get back to the den, I’m asking Felix to partner us.”

He says it so casually, so matter-of-factly, I know it’s not calculated or said out of pity. He really wants to work with me. He just checked that dream off my list without even knowing he was doing it.

Only…

Why is it suddenly hard to picture myself back in the Overworld? Away from Hades.

“Good game,” I say to the owl.

Gears inside it whir as it spins its head, then gives a tooting little hoot that makes me smile. Two levels in, and I’m feeling more confident now that survival at the very least seems assured.

I head for the door, but just as I get to the bottom of the next set of spiraling stairs, a familiar whistle sounds behind me.

I spin to find Boone sitting—yes, sitting, like he doesn’t have a care in the world—on the wooden window ledge, his legs dangling to the outside and a grin on his face.

“What are you doing?” I ask as I run over.

I look past him to the drop below. We’re on the third level, so it’s only about thirty feet to the ground, but the moat doesn’t come all the way to the tower walls. There is a spit of land between the wall and the water, and it’s covered with spears planted in the dirt. Hundreds of scary-looking spikes shooting straight up into the air, like the quills of an angry porcupine.

Boone swings one leg over, unconcerned. “Hephaestus said it didn’t matter how we got to the top. Just that we get there.” He looks up the wall. “I think we’ve been going the hard way.”

I lean out the window to look up with him.

Damn it all to hells, he’s right. I see that there are seven levels, now that I can count the windows, and the walls of the castle are easily scalable, made of rough rock that protrudes all over the place—plenty of ledges and grips to make it to the top.

It’s definitely faster, especially for Boone, who is, of course, a fantastic climber, and it’s much safer than facing the automatons. That’s assuming I can make it. I’m not the worst at wall-work, but I’m not the best, either, and we have no ropes.

Boone must read my mind, because he winks. “I’ll make sure you get to the top.”

He means it.

“Move over.” I wave him back impatiently.

With a chuckle, he maneuvers so that he’s no longer sitting on the windowsill but scaling the wall off to the side. I sit and swing my legs over, then look for the best foot- and handholds. In seconds, I’m also hanging from the side of the castle, looking up, trying to remember my training and map out the first set of moves.

“To the left?” I ask.

“No.” He points. “Right. See that larger outcropping?”

“Got it.”

We start climbing. My heart is pounding so hard, I can feel the blood pump in my ears and temples. At least once, I see a glow from one of the windows near the top. Diego’s halo, I guess, or maybe Dae’s necklace. And a few yells come from various levels. I’m careful and slow, trying to keep most of my weight on my legs, not my arms, as we make it past one window. We’re just coming to the next windowsill when Boone whispers, “The humming.”

I cut the sound off in my throat. “Sorry.”

Quietly, we split and make our way to either side of the opening.

When the sill is about hip height on me, I pause to look for a different handhold. As I turn my head to search, a flash of something silver lashes out from inside the tower. A blur, it’s so fast. All I know is Boone lunges so that he’s between me and whatever is coming at us from inside.

I see the way he takes the impact, his big hands curling around the windowsill as his body jerks. He grunts. Hard.

Then, without a pause, he reaches for me. Trying to move me out of the way or make sure I don’t fall—I’m not sure which. It all happens in an instant. When he turns away, I suddenly can see the stain of red already seeping into the tear in his shirt, a wide gash across his chest.

But the silver thing from inside comes at us again before I have a chance to so much as gasp—and then Boone’s in the air.

His face contorts with shock as he wheels his arms, and I reach out a futile hand for him, grasping nothing as he falls away.

“No!” I think I scream it as I watch him drop.

It feels like time has slowed and the fall takes a lifetime.

Drops of blood follow him down like rainfall, and Boone’s horrified eyes never leave my face, even when he hits the spikes. I hear the thud, crunch, and gurgle of the impact, even from up here.

“Lyra.” I can’t hear him, just see his lips move. Then he coughs up more blood.

A tiny firefly strays from the safety of the trees to flicker in front of him curiously, and Boone sees it…and smiles. Then he looks up, seeking me out like he wants us to share that moment and not the reality of what’s happening. His gaze stays on mine, then, even as the life oozes out of him. He doesn’t look away once, not until his head lolls back and his entire body goes limp around the spikes skewering his chest, shoulder, and leg, holding him aloft.

“Boone!” I’m screaming for sure now as time catches up in an almighty rush. My next scream lasts what feels like an eternity, and I don’t stop until my voice is raw.

I take a quick, hiccupping breath. It cuts off abruptly with a jolt of pain as a blur of silver strikes at me from inside the room, nearly knocking me off, too. I see it this time—through a blur of tears and anguish—a whiplike tentacle made of metal, with a lethal-looking sharp-tipped end. That thing is what knocked Boone off the tower wall.

I have my axe in my hand in a flash, just as that tentacle shoots out again.

I slam my axe down on top of it, and the blade penetrates, pinning the thing to the wood of the windowsill. And then I climb.

I have no choice.

I don’t let myself look down. If I see Boone’s mangled body again, I know I’ll lose it. I have to reach the top. A shadow flies by overhead—probably one of the Daemones, but I don’t look. Avoiding the windows, I climb and climb and climb until I’m at the battlement wall at the top. I manage to use the narrow slits between stone blocks to pull myself up and over, muscles burning, heart aching.

The second my feet hit the roof, I spin around to lean over and look for Boone. But before I can see him, arms wrap around me from behind. Hades. I’m sure of it. He doesn’t give me time to look at Boone again or react at all before we disappear.

Not to end up in the forest. Not to go wherever the others who have finished or are waiting for loved ones to finish have been taken. Not to return to the third floor to start all over like I semi-expect, given the cheat to get to the top. Not even to Hades’ house in Olympus.

When we reappear, I’m standing in the circle of Hades’ arms, my back against the warmth of his body. We’re in a library. Columns, not fluted or Greek but inlaid with turquoise and gold, bracket a divided staircase winding on both sides up three stories to a glass dome showing a velvety sky that’s not a sky outside. And books everywhere.

I’m standing with him in the Underworld.

In his home.

I’m sure of it.

He drops his forehead to the back of my head. “Lyra.” His voice is a quiet murmur. Hesitant. Not like Hades at all.

And that’s what finally punctures the numb bubble I wrapped around myself in order to get up that fucking tower. It’s when the image of Boone’s face as he fell, the twisted sight of his broken body on those spikes, finally hits with the reality that, unlike the last Labor, I can’t wake him up this time. There is no magic. He’s really gone.

I crumple.

And Hades catches me.