Shattered Gods (Dark Olympus, #10)(29)

They rush off to obey my orders, which should be the time I seek out an update from Antigone. I still need sleep, but my adrenaline is soaring too high for it to be a possibility now. Starting this coup with the execution of a nearly universally hated person is all well and good, but the mob craves the blood of those it designates as its prey. If I don’t feed it, I run the risk of becoming prey myself. We need to buy time for the lower city team to find the machinery to bring down the remaining barrier.

“Circe.”

I spin on my heel to find Amytis and Noe standing there. I frown. “What are you doing? Go see to Atalanta.”

They exchange a glance. Once again, Noe takes the lead. “We went to the classroom. There was a lot of blood. But, Circe…” I know what she’s going to say even as her lips form the words. “It was empty.”

That sneaky little assassin. I would admire her if I didn’t want to hunt her down and wring her neck. No, that’s a lie. I do admire her despite the wrench she just threw into my plans. She played up her injury so I’d leave. It was a risky move, but clearly she wanted…

I suck in a breath. “Hecate.”





12

Hermes




Circe outplayed me. Again. I’ve been running circles around the Thirteen and the legacy families for so long that I’ve lost my edge. It’s something I never would have thought possible, but here I am…trying to move my feet.

I glare at my boots. “Come on, feet.” At least I have access to my mouth and tongue again. The rest of my body is coming online much more slowly. If I have even a chance at escaping, I need to be able to move. And, you know, maybe not fall face-first into Circe’s mouth the first chance I get.

After the last time she kissed me and drugged me, I really should know better, but my brain goes a bit fuzzy around her. Or maybe she’s got some kind of pheromone perfume that drops my IQ dramatically every time I get within touching distance.

Or, damn it, maybe I never stopped loving her. It’s inconvenient in the extreme. The only way forward is to put as much distance between us as possible. With the threat she offers, I have decent leverage to convince the Thirteen to actually leave Olympus, but I can only do that if I’m free.

A thump on the other side of the door brings my head up—hey, I couldn’t do that a few minutes ago—but the movement shifts my body just enough that I overbalance and do a slow, pathetic slide down to a prone position. “Fuck,” I say against the fabric of the couch.

I hear the door open, but I can’t see who just walked into the room from my current position. I can’t see much of anything but the awful pattern of this couch. It had to have been donated to the university because the original owner bought it in a drug-fueled haze. It’s the only explanation why someone would own such a horrid creation.

A soft inhale. “Damn it, Hermes.”

I blink. Surely I’m hearing things. I must be because there’s no feasible way Atalanta would be in this room with me. Except it is her. I know those strong hands that find my shoulders and haul me up into a sitting position. I know that scarred face, perpetually pinched in concern for my reckless decisions.

What I don’t recognize is the fucking knife sticking out of her upper chest. I lurch forward, tipping again, and she has to slam a hand into my shoulder to keep me in place. “Who?” I snarl.

“Your girlfriend isn’t just a pretty face.” Her complexion is waxy, but at least she’s still on her feet. “She missed hitting anything vital or I’d already be dead. We have to go.”

“I can’t.”

Atalanta glares. “I did not infiltrate this fucking warren of a building, fight your sorta-ex, and get stabbed for you to tell me you’re staying here. Get the fuck up so we can get out of here.”

“I can’t.” I blink a few times. “Circe dosed me with a paralytic. I’m getting feeling back in my body, but it’s coming too slowly to be helpful for this escape.”

Atalanta huffs out a strained laugh. “Absolutely nothing about this has gone according to plan, so why would we start now?” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. We’re leaving.”

I don’t miss the way she moves stiffly as she bends down to yank my arm over her shoulders. She’s hurt, and hurt bad if she’s showing any evidence of the injury. Which, of course, I already knew because she has a knife in her chest. “Go without me.”

“Shut up.”

“Atalanta, if you bleed out because you’re trying to save me, I’ll bring you back just to kill you myself.”

She stands, hauling me up with her. “You’ll have to be alive to do that, so I’m not worried. Your dumb ass is going to get killed while you’re distracted mooning after that woman.”

“I’m not mooning.” I manage one staggering step, but it’s like being the worst kind of drunk and high. Everything feels even and normal, but my body isn’t getting the message. “And Circe won’t kill me.”

Atalanta curses. “You are too smart to be so naive when it comes to her. Even if I believed that she won’t kill you, her people might very well do it behind her back.” She half drags me to the door and pries it open.

The woman from before lies on the ground, her eyes closed. I catch sight of the steady rise and fall of her chest. Good. She’s not dead. Realistically, it’s one less soldier for us to fight, but with the whole city mobilizing, it wouldn’t make a difference now anyway, and…Circe cares for this woman. I could hear it in her voice when they spoke earlier.