Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)
Jasmine Mas
FATE’S PARTIAL UNSEEN PROPHECY
FATE: ONE DAY IN THE FUTURE
I tipped my head back, sucking on the smoking pipe as I inhaled the herbs deep into my ancient lungs.
Symbols, numbers, and letters swirled in nonsensical patterns—each a drop of water in a churning ocean.
Eyes rolling back, I engaged my powers fully.
I focused on the current.
Individual glistening droplets rose up, out above the stormy sea, separating themselves, speaking their words to me: “The lost one shall change what is before Chained to death’s soldiers, becoming evermore Her lgingihlthae shall—the—four
—,—, hrakno, and the Serpent of Lore The chained one shall reveal the evil underscore Derguda by mneonsircm men,—afore
Their—shall—the tides of war
The monstrous one shall mend and restore For the otls eon hears his—roar.”
My eyes widened.
Water splattered across my face as the sky opened up with rain.
For the first time in years, the cryptic words revealed to me were still tangled and obscured. The incompleteness of the path was abrasive in its wrongness, deeply unsettling.
The pipe fell from my parted lips as I gripped my toga.
It could mean only one thing—someone else could also read the words of premonition.
There was another Spartan alive, not just with the power of Fate, but with the rare ability to wield it.
A once-in-a-millennium event had occurred, again.
This changed everything.
1
THE SURVIVOR
ALEXIS: MAY, CRETE. 2100
“Were the human casualties avoidable?” Persephone asked softly as Hades stepped through the front door, his boots drenched in crimson blood.
Hades laughed and kissed her forehead. “The mission was a success.”
Weeks later, their interaction still haunted me.
Titan blood was black.
He’d never answered her question.
Now I slowly backed away from the sprawling House of Hades palace.
The ancient marble structure was perched atop a hill on the island of Crete, and the Aegean Sea spread out in every direction. On the western horizon, the sun set with burnt-orange rays.
Insects droned.
“Please, sweetheart, you don’t have to do this,” Persephone whispered. Charlie stood solemnly beside her. Hydra, the dragon protector perched on her shoulder, let out a mournful cry mixed with fire.
The flames were bright in the dusk.
Persephone’s frown deepened.
A sharp ringing sound echoed, and I tilted my head to see her better.
Only Charlie knew my secret—my left eye was blind, and my left ear was permanently damaged. A violent childhood had bestowed its marks on me.
It forged me into this.
A symphony of dying voices screamed inside my head—I’d slain them all.
Alexis, you’re not an evil person.
My real name was Hercules.
Yes, you are.
I gritted my teeth.
It wasn’t real.
Yes, it is.
It had only taken twenty years for me to lose my mind.
Persephone’s fingers whitened where she clung to Charlie’s arm, their togas whipping in the spring sea breeze.
Shadowy waves crept along the shoreline as the sun disappeared.
Night had arrived.
I pushed back the sleeve of my cloak. Lips pulling up in a false smile, I gently pressed my fingers to the “C+A” tattooed messily across my forearm. Persephone’s recent gift to me, two dainty golden cuffs, covered my scarred wrists. My wedding bracelet clinked against one of them.
Charlie nodded at me solemnly from his lanky height, his yellow eyes soft as he mimicked the gesture.
Nyx shifted beneath the loose folds of my exercise toga, her grip tighter than usual around my torso. Fluffy Jr. let out a low whine as he crouched at my feet, our protector bond trembling.
Trepidation prickled the back of my neck.
Every instinct screamed at me to wrap myself around Charlie. In a perfect world I’d never leave his side. In a perfect world I’d be human.
I wasn’t.
This was Sparta.
God, please save my soul.
The flame from the torches lining the palace entrance cast warped shadows across our faces: mother, daughter, and newly adopted son.
It was far too late for my salvation.
“I know exactly what you’re feeling.” Persephone’s voice echoed, her bare toes curling into the short grasses that competed with rocks to decorate the landscape. “Your fear and rage leave a bitter residue in the earth. I can taste your … impulses.”
She was being kind. Holding back from airing the depth of my shame in front of Charlie. But I saw it in the panicked expression on her face.
She could taste my delirium. She knew my murderous blood was boiling me alive and my thoughts were slowly melting with it.
In my mind, Father John was throwing holy water at my face. “You’re possessed,” he whispered, eyes wide with terror. “You’re one of them. An abomination.”
I nodded solemnly in agreement.
“Alexis, snap out of it.” Persephone’s voice vibrated with power.
I startled back into reality.
Father John was somewhere in Montana.