Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(61)

“Stop, Alexis.” Ceres stared up at me. “All we are is what we perceive. Right or wrong, real or not. Predestination speaks in a language that no one truly understands.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “It’s a feeling—and if you’ve felt it, you need to believe in yourself.”

I backed away, dropping the paper.

“I’m just t-tired.”

Ceres looked grave. “You need to trust yourself. I trust you, with my life. You need to do the same. Believe in yourself, in your abilities.”

I backed into the other bedroom.

“I just need to rest,” I said, shutting the door before she could reply.

Falling into Helen’s pink bed, I pulled the cover up over my head, then grabbed my pocket graphing calculator.

Dragging my fingers over the shiny buttons, I admired the linear equation I’d been working on.

“Dear Diary,” I whispered into the microphone. “Ceres is acting strange, and my recent graph supports that the Riemann zeta function has its zeros not only at the negative even integers but also with complex numbers with real halves.”

I paused.

“Also, I think I’m going crazy. I’m seeing things. A strange symbol. The grim reaper. And I feel like I’m dying every time I think about my husbands.” I clicked it off.

Knock.

Knock.

“The heir to the House of Hades has been requested to meet in the dining room,” a servant called through the closed door. “It’s urgent.”

I groaned.

Is a single day of rest really too much to ask for?

Less than a minute later, I cautiously pushed open the door to the dining room with the animals all huddled at my feet.

I peeked inside.

Spooky.

It was midday, but the curtains had been pulled, and the dining room was dark. The only light was from the smoldering fireplace, its flames burning low, and the scent of smoke was sharp.

Wind howled outside, as sheets of rain slammed against the long windows.

The storm was picking up.

Cautiously, I slipped inside with the animals in tow.

“Uh, I was s-summoned … Is anyone in here?”

Lightning flashed.

The door shut behind me with a bang.

“Welcome … wife,” Kharon said quietly.

He stood at the middle of the long table, twirling a dangerous hunting knife between his fingers. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

I blinked.

Not dramatic at all.

Augustus was next to Kharon, leaning his hip against the table, like he was blocking something, arms crossed over his chest, expression stony.

“Uh,” I said eloquently, not sure what the best practices were when it came to dealing with deranged men.

Something clattered loudly.

Kharon and Augustus stepped away from the table.

Lightning flashed—Patro was bound and gagged; Achilles was tied to a chair next to him.

My mentors turned their heads toward me.

Patro shouted, the sound muffled behind a gag, as he kicked and struggled.

Achilles sat perfectly still beside him, eyes narrowed with rage, trussed up in silver restraints. They were the same kind of chains they used to secure Titans.

Kharon pointed his knife at a single seat on the other side of the table. The rest of the chairs had been removed from the room.

“Please sit, wife,” Kharon said calmly. “Join us.”

Nyx hissed as she slithered from my waist and coiled tightly around my arm, ready to strike. Fluffy Jr. crouched low, and the hellhounds and Poco silently stared at the men.

I straightened my shoulders and held Kharon’s fierce gaze.

“Or … what?” There was no way he’d hurt me.

I knew better.

Do I?

Kharon pointed the knife at Achilles’s face, then he hovered the blade over his left ear. “If you don’t, I will avenge the wrong perpetrated against you.”

I inhaled sharply. “You wouldn’t.”

Kharon’s smile was pure sin. “Want to test me?” He pressed the knife into the skin above Achilles’s ear, features twisting with mania.

Patro screamed and kicked his bound feet at the table leg next to him.

Achilles stayed perfectly still.

Shock morphed inside my chest into something dangerous and seething.

Kharon’s face sharpened. “Please—sit. We have … important matters to discuss.”

Augustus stood silent.

With careful measured steps, angling my body to keep them in my sight, I walked in the opposite direction around the table to the chair.

I stared across at them.

Kharon laughed harshly, a familiar mocking sound. “Smart choice.”

“Sit,” Augustus ordered.

Indignation kindled inside my stomach.

I remained standing.

Midnight eyes narrowed into slits. “Sit,” Augustus repeated with more force.

Kharon bared his teeth. “You’re outnumbered and you have no weapons. Don’t do anything you’d regret, carissima. You have no other choices.”

How dare he.

I raised my right arm toward my husbands, finger pointed, thumb cocked.

Kharon tipped his head back and chuckled mockingly.

Black scales shimmered into existence as she became visible—Nyx’s head hovered over my pointer finger, mouth wide open, fangs on display. She coiled tighter on my arm, ready to strike—vibrant purple snake eyes watched Kharon.