Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(100)

Hermos cracked his neck back and forth as the four Gorgons charged in a blur of swinging swords.

“Snake scum!” chorused around the stadium.

Screams echoed.

What felt like forever later, but was probably only a few minutes, Hermos tipped his head back and bellowed with victory.

Pale, blood-splattered muscles straining, Hermos planted the spear in the middle of the sandy arena: four Gorgons were skewered through their stomachs, hanging limp on his spear.

Nyx slithered around my neck. “Okay, now this is too far,” she hissed, sympathetic for the snakes. I shielded her head so she didn’t have to look.

Charlie nudged my side, distracting me from the carnage. “I’m glad you’re sitting next to me,” he signed.

“Me too.”

We leaned closer.

Agatha stood up and clapped in the row before us—our section tensed—she had two black eyes. Thick black and green bruises also covered every inch of her arms and legs. The purple chain marks around her neck were from Hermos, but the rest of the wounds were new.

Agatha had cannibalized her labors without them laying a single finger on her.

The bruises were from her interrogation.

The Olympians had tortured her, and it was all because of Medusa.

Head spinning, I fought the urge to retch. Everything became hazy and nightmarish.

Time drifted away from me.

I remembered sitting in the symposium.

The rest was a blur.

Later, I lay beside my husbands in bed.

Kharon fell asleep first.

I woke up in the middle of the night as something moved beneath me. It took me a few groggy seconds to realize I was no longer lying on the mattress.

Kharon had pulled me on top of him like a blanket.

His arms and legs were wrapped around me, holding me in place.

He snored loudly, chest rising and falling.

Augustus grumbled and shifted closer, adding his arms around my back as he pulled us both close against him.

Poco was curled up in a ball on my back. My scalp prickled as he tugged on my hair and chewed on it.

I turned my head.

Augustus was lying in a contorted position, half on top of both of us, and his dimple was showing—he was smiling in sleep.

My expression matched his as I drifted back to sleep.

SGC DAY 8

The next day arrived, sunny and bright.

Another miracle.

Down below on his podium, Zeus was once again dressed in all white, and, mercifully, his scepter was missing. Zeus’s lightning strike felt unreal, like it had happened in another life.

I sat between Drex and Charlie, holding on to my little brother while Nyx slithered up and down my legs.

Kharon played with the ends of my hair.

I glanced back—Augustus was staring at me. “It will be okay,” he mouthed.

Fear filled my lungs. Fluffy Jr. was back in the bedroom because he hadn’t woken up this morning, his hump more distended than ever.

“Patro … Patro … Patro,” chanted all around, and Achilles sat ramrod straight beside Drex, watching the arena like a hawk.

Patro stepped out into the sand holding a scythe, electric grid shimmering above him in the sunlight.

The crowd hollered.

Patro flashed a cocky smile, as Poppae walked at his side with her jaguar hackles raised.

The gate opened—gasps echoed—two male Nemean jaguars prowled out.

They were three times larger than Poppae, who was already bigger than a normal jaguar.

Patro calmly twirled his scythe. If he was scared, he didn’t show it.

Achilles leaned forward in his seat, hands fisted, knee bouncing.

Patro sprinted forward and raised his weapon with Poppae running beside him.

The opposing jaguars leapt at him, both soaring impossibly high.

Patro jumped to meet them, flying twenty feet up into the air.

They clashed midair.

It happened in a blur—claws swiped, a scythe swung, animals howled, blood sprayed.

A few seconds later, Patro and Poppae stood with the pieces of two Nemean jaguars spread out around them.

There was a moment of silence.

The stadium erupted.

Patro looked up to the stands—he blew Achilles a kiss—then he bowed dramatically.

Achilles sat rigidly.

“He goes next,” Drex whispered with trepidation as he pointed at Patro’s lover. “Tomorrow—Achilles’s muzzle comes off.”

We both grimaced.





37


DEMONS IN THE FLESH OF MEN




ALEXIS: SGC DAY 9

A chilly breeze whipped through the coliseum and curls blew around my face in a tangled mess.

Dark clouds concealed the mountain peaks.

Not again.

I’d never view a thunderstorm the same way.

Mist rolled across the sand, and electricity hummed louder than usual, sputtering and sparking in the moisture-filled air.

I searched the stadium, but Zeus wasn’t present yet.

The day felt ominous—murmurs filled the arena—there was a strange anticipation bubbling.

Last night, once again, Kharon pulled me on top of him while he slept. He’d woken up with a flustered blush.

I didn’t look back at my husbands, but from the way my neck prickled, and my instincts screamed DANGER, they were staring at me.