Omari slipped my jacket off my shoulders, and the drop in temperature felt unbearable, instantly making my limbs shake. Hugging my arms to my waist, I looked at the group, all of them in a lopsided circle around the flat top rock I knew matched Henry Jon’s descriptions.
So this is where I’ve died before—well, have been scarified before. No, set free? Even though I was still fuzzy on the terminology after combing Henry Jon’s book more than once now.
Jasper, his venom-filled eyes were unmistakable, even with the hood concealing most of his face in a heavy shadow, handed Cheyanne a heavy book. It looked old and bound in taut leather, just like mine.
Omari’s hands were on my shoulders, guiding me to the flat top rock and pushing down on my shivering muscles until I sat. “You all know this is creepy, right? Very 90’s hazing sorority vibes.”
No one laughed.
No one even moved.
Omari stood in front of me, like he was meant to keep me from running away if this got even more creepy.
I swallowed what little moisture I had left my mouth, which felt dry and tight. Cheyanne started chanting in another language, maybe Latin? Something dead and old.
I searched the hoods for Bolton’s eyes and high cheekbones, but I came up short. I found Kate’s boredom, Luna’s worry, Nyx’s reserve, and Caellum’s malice, but no Bolton. In a panic, I searched the faces again; when Omari’s place was taken by another, a knife caught the moonlight and almost made it look pretty as it shined.
Pushing the hood off, I saw Bolton; maybe it was just a familiar comfort. He was mouthing something, but I couldn’t decipher what in the darkness.
I reached out, grabbing his forearm, looking up at him confused and scared. I was letting him see the other parts of me no one did, and I was hoping none of his weaker qualities turned him off enough to leave me in the dark.
Leaning into me, I felt his warmth, “Relax, Little Archer. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Everything in me froze. My muscles tightened, and my bones felt like heavy steel. That wasn’t Bolton. It was… my dad? His gruff voice was unmistakable.
“Daddy?” my weak voice whimpered out, making it obvious how much I needed him.
He ignored me, his head low, letting the hood do the work of blending him in.
He wasn’t here. He couldn’t be. He was an ocean away protecting people who weren’t me.
Was I hallucinating? Nothing even happened. Get it together.
Cheyanne took my palm and cut me with something sharp, but the sting felt like she rubbed glass in it just to be a bitch. I kept still, trying to play along, just how Bolton had told me.
No one mentioned my dad being a part of this plan.
She held her own cut palm to my hand and chanted more. I was lost in her chanting-like a lullaby, when everything went wrong—the kind of wrong that made you wonder if there ever was a right way.
I reached out for my dad, but I clutched onto Cheyanne’s forearm instead and she cut another piece of me. This time the sharp object cut across my exposed arm. I watched the blood pulsate from the wound, shimmering in the moonlight as gold as could be. Her eyes widened, clearly shocked at the color or maybe just how much I bled as her movements paused, and her lullaby made me feel even more drowsy.
Everything felt like a dream, not bad, natural, as my eyelids became too heavy to hold up anymore.
Was this part of the plan? Was this the ritual? Were my pain sensors on overload or just spared?
Luna
I broke the circle, pushing the heavy hood off and making my way to Arianna, who looked out of it. This had never been a part of the ritual before, and it was worrying me that this was a barrier we wouldn’t overcome.
What was Cheyanne doing?
Her witchy tricks weren’t ever laid on this strong before. Arianna was ready to pass out, and none of us knew how that would affect separating her soul from her mortal body.
Smoothing down her hair, I tried to relax her, thinking it would help, even though she was so docile it made me think she needed adrenaline to counteract her current state.
I needed Arianna aware enough to understand who was good and bad, what side to take, who to trust… and this wasn’t helping.
She was practically faint in my arms when I noticed the tusk poking out past the hemline of her dress creating a hole in her imperfect tights.
Trying to be something I wasn’t, sly, wasn’t as hard as I thought when I glanced around the circle keeping everyone in focus while I snuck my hand around the weapon I didn’t expect Arianna to have on her, but I was glad she did.
The God Killer, the tusk of her pet, was a weapon in plain sight that she had made friends with.
The only thing forged to kill gods.
The only weapon made to destroy the royalty in our blood with one stab.
I tucked the weapon away for safekeeping. Knowing Arianna, she’d yanked it out and start threatening even Bolton, leaving no safety for the rest of us.
I felt my stomach drop when someone with twice the strength ripped Arianna from my arms, dragging her legs against the sandpaper surface and positioning her upright.
“We aren’t doing this. We don’t belong in Olympus anymore, and you all know it,” Omari’s voice was unapologetic and a type of blood-curdling I knew not to test.
No, his threats needed to be met with threats. An eye for an eye.
I don’t know what snapped inside of me, broke, with such magnificent glory that I matched his movements only clutching Cheyanne with the same hostility. I closed my arm around Cheyanne’s bicep and kept her close enough for me to shove the God Killer against her side. “Let Ari go, Omari.”
Everything felt foreign.
I was holding a weapon against someone’s sensitive pale skin, wondering if I had what it took to push it down their layers and watch the life drain from them.
Am I even holding this right?
I caught Austin’s gaze, swallowing it down with the nerves. We both knew Jasper was guilty, but not guilty of betraying this circle. Jasper was the one playing both sides and living to tell us about it. Meanwhile, I was waiting for Omari to call my bluff.
The panic in his wide eyes made me shiver with the fear of possibly losing someone I felt so connected with.
Push it, down.
I kept swallowing my tongue, praying my actions were threatening enough.
“Luna, I swear to the gods if you hurt my sister…” trailing off, I knew Omari never bluffed when I pushed the tip further into her skin.
“Omari, what are you doing?! We can go back home!” Cheyanne wanted to speak, bargain, so I clamped my hand over her mouth stopping any more words.
Their connection was too strong to trust any communication between them. They were probably speaking with their eyes as I held her against me; no one could know.
“Let Ari go, Omari. She’s innocent.”
“Not all of us want to go back home, Luna. Not all of us are welcomed back to that crooked kingdom.”
Jasper
I clapped my hands together over and over for dramatic effect, “Raise your hand if you thought I’m the bad guy?”
The chuckle in my voice almost ruined my statement as I watched Luna carefully. The last thing I wanted was for her to get hurt.
An innocent soul was worse than the blood on our hands already.
Bolton stood tall, looking at me bemused, trying to piece it all together in his head. I’m sure all the roads led to me, and him being wrong wasn’t a strong suit of his.