Do you remember it all too, beautiful? Or has Hades already stolen all the memories he wants? Every thought of me from your incredible soul…
No.
I can’t start thinking that way. I have to try harder. To believe stronger. To remember the spirit and spice and strength of the woman who has made me love her for all three. And to worship her for so much more.
I have to have faith…
I tighten my grip on the boat rail and urge the damn thing on in my mind. If only the peculiarities of this place lent me the ability to fly.
Then, suddenly, it feels like I’m doing just that. But that’s not my power at work. It’s the stunning vision that the water gives to me again.
It’s Kara. She’s wrapped in red satin, and she’s reaching out again. She’s seeking me again. But her fingers are slicing empty air…
Until she’s not.
When she seems to see me, she cries out with such joy and relief that my own eyes get watery. I don’t waver my returning stare—wishing I could tell her, with the love that brims from my gaze and the faith that permeates my soul, that we’re going to make it. But I already know if this is real, if she’s real, she won’t hear me. She’s shaking her head, as if pleading for more words from me. And now she’s so close, just below the water’s surface. I can see her fingertips graze the waves next to the boat…
Can it be real? Can she be this close?
The need to touch her is too strong. I fold myself over the edge of the boat and reach out for her. She’s so close… Just a little bit farther…
Just a little…bit…
Until I’m learning, the hard way, that gravity works in hell too. And I’m tumbling over, covered at once by the wild tides of the Acheron. And I don’t even mind. Not if this is where Hades is keeping Kara.
Chapter Eight
Kara
I’m drained, physically and emotionally.
It’s not what I’m supposed to be thinking right now. Hades granted me this respite in the tub room in his perceived spirit of generosity and benevolence. But I also have no doubt that he cleared Charlena’s visitation for the exact same time, officially slashing my tranquility by half. My grandmother is gone now, and as odd as our conversation was, I already hope to see her again. Maybe that’s exactly Hades’s plan: I’ll get more time with Charlena if he gets a chance to stroll through my mind.
And what about the unexpected visions of Maximus? Is Hades behind those too? Was I experiencing a real connection to him in those mystical vapors, or was it an elaborate stunt from my cunning host, orchestrated as yet another bargaining tool for my surrender? How do I know if Maximus is really in distress now?
It all felt so real. He felt so close. His heart, and all its desperate energy, was all mine too. For a few amazing but agonizing moments, we were together again.
Keeping my hands flat against the mirror, I wait through awful minutes. Then more. Even as the wall spigots shut off. Even as the water turns cold enough to make me tremble.
I’m on the verge of succumbing to more violent shivers, when a scratchy voice over my shoulder breaks apart my brood. “It is time to return to your chamber.”
I gasp and protectively shield my breasts. The servant demon glares as if she couldn’t care less. She’s standing there with a towel, alarmingly close, looking like she wants to turn the thing into a sheet of steel wool.
“Th-Thank you.” I barely rasp it out before snagging the cloth from her. I manage to get most of my body dry without showing her too much of it, though she sees enough that the envious green glow in her eyes intensifies.
A gut-deep grunt is her only response while she holds out a cut glass bottle of glowing silvery liquid. “The master wishes you to apply this before re-donning your apparel.”
“What is it?”
“He wishes you to wear it,” she repeats. “A gift perhaps.”
She attempts a smile, but it comes across more like a grimace. She’s likely comparing my luxurious robe to her tattered attire and loathing me for complaining about the request.
My quick thanks softens her a little, however. More importantly, it compels her to turn around and shuffle elsewhere in the chamber as I unstopper the bottle and take a tentative sniff of the glowing oil, which has nothing close to the scent I expected. This aroma is more like…a forest. Maybe a meadow. I pull back, stunned by the overtones of juniper, clover, and pine. Though it’s markedly different than what I’d pick out at a perfume counter, it’s not unpleasant. I pour a measure into my palm and test it over my skin. It lends a sheen that’s nearly translucent, an effect so odd that my fascination nearly overrides my apprehension again.
An instinct tells me to savor this moment a little while longer, but I turn and reach for my robe, pulling it on once more.
As the maid leads me out of the pool room and hands me off to a pair of Hades’s guards, I cross my hands over my chest and grip the satin lapels with white-knuckled ferocity. I manage to keep hold even while scurrying four steps for every one the stern soldiers take, one in front of me and one behind, as we head back out to the massive bridge across the awful canal.
I steel my nerves, knowing I won’t be able to escape at least a glimpse of the tormented souls below, but a relieved breath rushes out when we get to the loggia. This time, the overpass is engulfed by dense fog. I’ll be lucky to see my own two feet in front of me.
Which in this case is completely fine by me.
As soon as we step outside, though, a deep chill invades my bones. My still-damp hair doesn’t help matters. I clench my teeth to keep them from chattering and force myself to keep moving on. I’m thankful that I can keep my head down without seeing terrifying faces before my eyes.
A conclusion issued too soon. Because suddenly I’m confronting the most horrifying sight of all. The thick mists along the left of the bridge mold themselves into new substance. Into an actual form.
The striations of muscle, power, and vigor that I recognize all too easily. Even the tears beneath my burst don’t alter this new apparition of him. But is that what this is? He’s so clear now. So real. Only the edges of his form are shrouded in mist now. But instantly, I wish for more of the cloud cover. Something to tell me this is just a fabrication of my wearied mind.
Once more, he appears underwater—though this time, he’s frantically swimming. He’s stretched out over the loggia, seemingly immersed.
“Maximus…”
I reach out, but he doesn’t see me. He doesn’t hear. His eyes close as if I’ve called to him in lust instead of alarm.
With his next exhalation, I can finally hear my name on his lips… For the first time, the watery depth of his voice hits my senses. But all the joy of the moment is lost as he drifts farther into the clouds.
He’s drowning.
I know it. I feel it. My lungs ache and burn because of it.
I sob his name once more.
“Subject Valari! Move along. Now!”
I wrench my arms, battling the soldier who clutches my shoulders from behind. There’s pain as I finally free myself, but the price is worth it. I’m able to charge ahead, spreading my arms and praying for the ability to somehow yank the center of my world out of his watery prison.