Chapter Forty-One

SCYLLA

The little fly pierces me with his tiny pin, a satisfied gleam in his eyes, as though he somehow outsmarted me.

The look on his face when he understands his measly weapon has no bearing on me is almost as satisfying as watching piss soak his pants.

The demigod is barely a meal for one of my heads, let alone six, but it is more appealing to watch his body become a chew toy between them. I observe with glee as he is wrenched from the ground by one of the heads, his upper body disappearing within its shark-like mouth, when another sinks its jaws into his lower half. They toy with him for several minutes, his screams drowned out by the snarling of my beasts. Blood finally sprays across my face in an intoxicating mist as his body is severed down the middle, his two halves engulfed by the heads.

I turn, taking in my odd surroundings. I am unfamiliar with what appears to be a tunnel with strange metal bars on the floor and ceiling. A small gray building stands on a platform, and something about it sends rage rippling within my cold blood.

A few men scurry about the platform, their black ensembles doing nothing to deter the image of pesky insects in my brain. I send the heads after them one by one until the only evidence of their existence is pools of blood where they once stood.

Still, my attention is drawn back to the building, the urge to level it to the ground spiking with fervor.

And so I do.

The ceiling collapses easily beneath the strike of the heads, and there is a satisfying crunch beneath my palms when I bring them down on the structure to decimate it entirely.

The tunnel now appears empty, much to my chagrin. I still cannot fathom where I am, or what this place is. It is certainly not my cave in the cliff side, nor can I sense a body of water anywhere near me at the moment. I wonder if the lack of men means my cousin, Charybdis is nearby. I chuckle at the thought of anyone attempting to drift by Charybdis unscathed. It is common knowledge, even among the most incompetent men, that losing six soldiers to me is far better than losing your entire ship to her. And yet, men, blinded by their egos, will still attempt to sail their ships past my lair directly into the churning, fang-tipped mouth of my cousin.

I move carefully, my body too large for the enclosed space, peering around for more prey I can tear apart.

Movement catches my attention, and my eyes snap to doors that slide open of their own accord.

Interesting.

A woman emerges, skin dark and arms covered in strange ink. Onyx hair falls to her shoulders. She stares up at me with equally dark, intelligent eyes, and a pang of recognition spears me before I shake it away.

I do not know this woman, and while I have found my tastes to be partial to men, I am sure she would also make a delectable meal.

Besides, if memory serves, the last woman I came across cursed me to this form.

My lips curl, nostrils flaring as I scent. Her blood thrums with magic, another beast like mine pulsing beneath her skin. Two beasts. Her blood is mixed. Sphinx and…Gorgon. Euryale, to be precise. Also curious that this woman should have the blood of two fo rmidable monsters pulsing through her veins. How is that possible?

"Rhi," she whimpers.

That name again. My heads hiss.

"Do you not know to whom you speak?"

She swallows. The scent of fear lingers, but sadness also swims within her eyes. "Scylla."

I nod. "Who are you?"

"A friend." Her voice shakes.

I laugh, in as much as I can. "I have no friends. Which means you must be an enemy."

"No." She holds up her palms. "I mean you no harm."

Again, I laugh. "As if you can harm me."

Those odd sliding doors open once more, and three more women file out, surrounding the one with midnight hair. Recognition again ignites as my eyes rake over each one: the tall blonde, with hair like spun gold and eyes like rare gems. Her signature hits me immediately. Medusa. The Hydra, whose dark brown hair and soulful brown eyes regard me not with fear, but something more surprising: sorrow.

Finally, the tiny one. Her hair is a rich mahogany, her eyes a strange myriad of green, brown, and gold. A Lamia lurks beneath her skin, but the recognition sparks from a simple gesture. A smile. One that I know does not just belong to her, but to someone else. Someone whose features are on the brink of my memory.

"Who are you?" I growl.

"Rhi," the Medusa calls, "please come back. We're here, and we aren't going anywhere."

The tiny one with the familiar smile nods. "We've got you, Rhi. Always."

Those words. They pierce me like a sailor's spear, somehow eliciting more pain.

I have the strangest notion my cousin spoke those words, but how? Charybdis and I don't verbally communicate. Still, a foreign sensation snaps against my skin, one that I cannot place, seeing as how I have never felt it before. But there is another small voice, a girl's voice, that places a name to the feeling.

Unease.

The heads hiss again, the only warning I will allow these small creatures.

And yet, I find I cannot hurt them.

"Go." I wave a giant claw. "You have no business here."

" You are our business, Rhi," the Sphinx says, determination etched in her flawless features.

"What is that name?" I shout in frustration, shaking the walls with my outburst .

"It's yours," the Hydra tells me.

"I am Scylla," I argue.

"Perhaps in here," Medusa taps her temple before pressing her palm against her heart. "But not in here."

I open my mouth to tell her I have no heart, but the smile on the Lamia gives me pause. Images flicker within my brain, rippling slightly before coming into focus. Hair as black as raven's feathers. Eyes like twin flames. And a smile that always lifted my heart.

No. Not mine.

Hers.

Rhi.

I feel her struggling to regain control. Fighting the monster within her.

Fighting me.

I feel her reaching for something. Something she keeps tucked away, and when she grasps it, I feel myself slipping.

Look for me. I'll always be right here. My cousin's signature is present, yet the voice that speaks those words is foreign to me. The girl, however, is comforted by that voice.

Right here?

I do not understand.

Right here.

The phrase plays on an incessant loop in my mind. I still do not understand where the girl is reaching. What she is reaching for.

Myself.

The world becomes smaller.

Right here.

Where? I ask, fading.

In my heart.