Clapping my hands together again. “Who thought Miss Innocent would be holding the God Killer?” My theatrics were on reserve for moments like this—distracting and getting the last laugh.
Bolton’s hands fisted the velvet material of my robe, pushing me against a tree trunk bordering the clearing. “Stop playing games, snake. I know you’ve been following me.”
Even his strength couldn’t break the grin on my face, elated to be smarter than the one who wears a crown. It was intoxicating. Now I knew why he was addicted to his own crown; it felt like this.
The power alone could have persuaded me to betray everyone, when Austin came to me asking if I knew anything. I always knew something… this was more challenging, switching sides continuously.
Coated in venom, I spat back, “I’m not playing games. I had to follow everyone in order to figure out who was the real bad guy.”
I could tell by his grip tightening that he wanted to hate the truth. He wanted to sentence me to hell and throw away the key.
“Might wanna turn around… it’s the guy threatening your girl.” I expected his fist to collide with my unblemished skin, but instead, all his anger aimed at Omari.
Every red flag and sensor went off to protect Luna. Bolton angry often meant someone was in the crossfire, and normally they didn’t make it out to hate him for it.
I didn’t want to scare Luna in the background of Bolton threatening almost everyone. My only concern was Luna—not this circle, not dying or living, and not Nyx throwing daggers my direction for pressing my palms into her shoulders.
I was ready to replace her hand with mine, when her body jerked forward, and I looked down to confirm my suspicion. Luna had driven the God Killer into Cheyanne’s side with a firm hand. As soon as the melted gold had hit her knuckles, she dropped her hand from the weapon, and the remorse bloomed all over her face.
Kate
“Luna! These are Balenciaga!” Looking down at my crispy pink platform sneakers now splattered with gold flecks.
No one else would know it was blood, but everyone else would know that’s not how Balenciaga sold these sneakers that went perfectly with my velvet wrap dress.
I didn’t put two and two together until I saw her clutch release. Luna backed away, and I watched Cheyanne fall to the ground.
My mouth fell open, and my gaze ran between my best friend and something I knew she’d never do: murder… anything.
Omari let go of Arianna and scrambled the ground to catch his twin sister that didn’t have any hope of surviving.
The God Killer was rightfully named. No cures. No magic. No fixes. Once it was used, there was no going back.
Watching Omari hold Cheyanne close to his chest made me want to wilt down to the floor with him. He was the bad guy, and I was sympathizing like I never had before.
Bolton shoved Arianna into Caellum’s arms, pacing and strung out on destruction. He was in his element, yet he looked so conflicted.
Cheyanne’s death radiated through each of us, all struck by her death that came premature. We weren’t friends, had nothing in common, but we could all agree that her twin, the sinister one, should have been the one to be sacrificed.
All of us cowardly sank down to the ground, as Bolton continued to pace in front of us. No one had any sarcasm, comebacks, witty one liners. Arianna was in and out of consciousness; Luna was catatonic; Nyx looked almost as shook as Bolton; Omari was inconsolable; Cheyanne was dead; and Austin was holding me against him, even though I wasn’t even on the scale of emotional, unless we counted the blood on my shoes.
We had broken the circle.
I forgot Alba was here, until his hood was down and his disappointed eyes fell on Omari holding his dead sister. “All you had to do was get Arianna alone. How hard is that?”
My dipped head lifted to meet his gaze in pure shock. Alba was three times our age, our mentor, our keeper… our real betrayer?
The sun was peeking up low between the trees, creating this glow we didn’t deserve.
Bolton’s hostility was no longer aimed inward at his inability to see the truth in front of us all. It was pointed at the man who walked right out of the shadows and into his line of vision. “What the fuck did you say?”
Alba didn’t seem regal or poised anymore. “It was simple, keep your eye on Arianna and get her alone. That’s all I needed to make her forget her past.”
Alba stumbled backwards trying to find his footing after Bolton pushed him. Nyx held him back, pulling his arms behind him, “Give me one reason I shouldn’t let him kill you.” Nyx barely spoke let alone threatened anyone.
I didn’t know my lips were moving when I thought, “Damn, I didn’t even see that coming.”
Having the terror twins, Bolton and Nyx, both glare at you at the same time made the chill I got used to feeling seem new. They were bested by one of our own—two actually—and no one made these two feel stupid without their permission.
Alba stood like a giant over us all, anger growing even taller than he already was, “We hold the power here; we are gods above men here. Don’t you see that? What’s back home? Dead gods and pillars made of gold that hold no value?”
Spitting on Olympus wasn’t something any of us did; it was the equivalent of swearing in church, frowned upon.
Bolton reached out his hand and said with a stern tone, “Luna, give it to me.”
Pushing myself further into Austin’s arms, I wanted to hide inside him. The balance needed to be restored; this night could not end on Luna acting so out of character. I shielded my eyes, shoved my face into his armpit, and tried not to inhale just in case he had anxiety sweat too.
I knew Luna would purge herself of the God Killer without even a blink. She didn’t hold onto anything that wasn’t truly a reflection of herself.
“Fuck!” Bolton forced us all to look when Alba was no longer there. I didn’t realize any of us took our eyes off him until he was gone.
Alba, our teacher and mentor, was gone. He had no intention of going home. He had every bad intention he could, down to turning us against each other and watching death eliminate us emotionally and physically. Omari was still clutching onto his twin, praying the God Killer was still a myth and that she’d wake up any second.
The myths were real.
The gods were dead.
Home? That was an illusion none of us were ready to accept.
We were homeless, orphans, the children of gods, and powerless to change our circumstances.
Bolton
Alba was gone.
Omari’s literal other half, apparently all the innocent parts, was dead in his arms.
Austin and Jasper played Devil’s advocate.
Luna went rogue.
Betrayal lusted in the air like a bad post sex tension—unignorable and weighing on your morals.
I was shaking with anger, on the inside, but I was still so mad. I felt irresponsible. I wanted to inflict pain until I forgot about my own. None of that mattered when I realized Ari was still docile on the cold ground in Luna’s arms.
Leaning down, I touched her cheek with my hand, hoping she’d suddenly come to life. We had never not completed a ritual, and no one knew anything about Cheyanne’s voodoo magic.
What if Arianna was stuck like this? What if this was some kind of instant karma for killing one of our own?