“Please,” he continues, “we both know my chances of making it out of hell twice aren’t very high. If any of the minutes, hours, or days that we spent together meant a shred of anything to you, do me this favor. Give me a moment more with Kara before Hades tosses me to whatever place I surely deserve. Can I see her again? Can you bring me to her?”
She narrows her eyes. “Do you think you can deceive me with such a simple ploy?”
He takes in a heavy breath. “Charlena, it was you who first deceived me, remember? I only ever saw the best in you.”
Her only answer is a tight press of her lips. Such a small move that says so much.
With no reply, Gio presses on. “I beg you. Can we have just a moment with her?”
After several agonizing seconds, she dips a short nod. “It might be possible…to calibrate a small glitch in our return trip.”
I trade a glance with Gio. Though I’m ready to give up a minor grin, his features are unsteady. By now, I know better than to not trust that look.
“A glitch like what?” I ask.
“A delay,” Charlena says. “Not a long one,” she qualifies. “I cannot risk the king’s wrath by extending it more significantly. Now that I’ve found you, I have no choice but to deliver you to him myself. But he’s not expecting Gio. It’ll buy you at least a little time while I explain the situation.”
“And then?” I ball my hands into fists at the thought of facing Hades again. After all he’s put us through, my expertise at self-control is going to face its most grueling test.
“Well, I suspect Hades will make quick work of you. He won’t kill you, of course, with you being the son of Zeus and all. If you’re lucky, you’ll wake up in front of Honey Bacchus at the Labyrinth in no time, feeling a lot worse than the hell that spat you out. Hopefully, you’ll be a bit older and wiser. Wise enough, at least, to know how foolish this quest was to begin with.”
We couldn’t disagree more, but I’m game for her plan if it finally puts me in front of Kara. I’m even willing to swim a hundred more rivers and brave a thousand more hellhounds, though I hope we’re now nearer to the ultimate treasure of my love.
“I look forward to proving you wrong,” I say, determined to make her hear my dedication, though it’s clear I’ve lost her attention.
She’s busy wrapping her face in its black covering once more, a mystery I can’t begin to unravel. Not with this new leg of our vital journey ahead of me.
“Come, now. Both of you.”
But the dictate isn’t necessary. As soon as she starts swirling a hand in the air, Gio and I are mesmerized. The light trails that follow in the wake of her fingertips are like stars, except they’re formed out of razors. As they collide with the moisture in the air, fierce sparks shoot out. The mini daggers fly farther and farther, raining along her sleeve until it’s shredded.
Even Cerberus seems impressed, as he’s retreated to the far edge of the canyon. Charlena sticks to her task, steady as if she’s tracing a line in the air, until she’s burned a large hole into the atmosphere.
No. Not a hole.
A doorway.
“Damn,” I rasp along with Gio.
In the area framed by the door, the air begins to change. The sizzling portal lures us into a long hallway. The dismal lighting and bleak stone walls are an upgrade from the canyon we’re leaving behind for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which is that I can start to make out our destination.
It’s a library.
As the doorway closes behind us, details about the place we’re moving toward become clearer.
The room looks like the touchdown target for a tornado, with furniture toppled and loose paper sheets like uncollected leaves across the dusty Persian carpets.
At once, all my senses kick in. My pulse quadruples. My eyesight goes from human to hawk. Both my shoulders are on fire, as I feel my broken skin start to repair itself. The rest of my body is also a blaze of awareness, tormented by an onslaught of need. An overriding pull to get myself all the way through the hallway as quickly as possible—though I’m damn sure it’s not for a nostalgic read of Poe or Blake.
There’s only one force capable of making my limbs feel like outlaw torches and my brain clamor for a sharp guillotine. Nothing gives away the truth deeper than the inescapable jolts to every vein and the ventricles of my heart.
The heart that’s meant to be with only one other.
Kara.
“You all right?”
Gio’s question registers in my mind, but when I nod, it’s an affirmation to the call of my heart, not the question on his lips.
I rush forward, past an all-too-still Charlena. I hope that her new statue act is a reflection of her focus: that she’s working on giving Kara and Gio those precious seconds of stolen time and nothing more. I order myself to home in on the same thing. I need to get through. I need to keep moving toward her fire, so achingly close now. I need to chase the storm that’s so uniquely hers, its spices twinge my nose. One…step…at…a…
A giant cosmic hand suddenly shoves me forward. I grunt, all the air knocked out of me, while tumbling into the large room.
At first, I shiver. The temperature has dropped by at least thirty degrees. It smells a little better, though. And then, as I raise my head, even wonderful.
Incredible.
She’s here.
So small but seeming even more so due to her hunched-over shoulders. From her defined shudders and soft whimpers, I can tell she’s crying. Her slight form moves in and out of the lamp puddle in which she’s kneeling. Her hair is a thick, shiny tangle against her shoulder, which is bare because her lush red robe has slipped a little.
She’s gorgeous even in her sadness. With her cinnamon spice in my nostrils and her shimmering skin in my sights, I wonder if she’s even real. I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the fervent need to step over and haul her into my arms. To kiss her with such possession, she forgets about who made her wear that robe or who’s brought on her tears. More vitally, who violated her mind with his insidious touch.
I vow to right all his wrongs. To bring back her joy after so much desolation. To light up her soul as I finally push sound up to my lips. The sound of one word alone.
“Kara.”
Chapter Fourteen
Kara
Sobs overwhelm me. Minutes pass as anger threads through the hopelessness I can’t seem to shake. I’m banging my fists against the old library’s shelves, tearing at the dusty tomes and adding to the mess of the room until I fall to my knees in defeat. Wiping at my unending tears, I take the smallest solace that I could still be with Hades and his minions, planning Maximus’s defeat.
I take in a deep breath, then groan in frustration for taking my anger out on the books. They’re not mine, but books have been my only companion at times. A wonderful comfort in bleak times when being a Valari—celebrated and sought after—was simply too much.
I begin the task of stacking up the casualties of my tantrum. I recognize a few titles in English. Most are in Latin. I open one, slicing my index finger in the process of turning the pages. Blood drops land on the fragile paper. I close the book quickly, only to expose the book beneath. Dark round droplets land on the book’s emblem—a faded golden torch. Below, gold lettering reads Ἑκάτη in ancient Greek.