A Reckoning so Sweet (The Reckoning Book 3) Page 6

  “For the last twenty years, the bonds holding the realms apart have grown weaker. We’ve been able to slip out. Quick sojourns at first, longer, now. As you can see, we can now grant mortals our favor once again…or we can smite them with our godly power.” Hera leans closer, crisscrossing her fingers and asking, “Tell me, what is it you hope to gain by meeting with Zeus? Do you wish to be his first mortal conquest in two millennia?”

  “No,” I quickly say, “no. Definitely not. I came here for answers.”

  “Have I not told you all you need to know?” I shake my head, which causes her to snicker. “Then what more do you have the gall to ask for?” Her eyes are narrowed in my direction.

  I don’t back down, no matter how small or insignificant she makes me feel. “There’s more to this, more to the Reckoning. What else is there? I need to know what’s under the surface, where it is, why it matters.”

  Hera’s back straightens. “You want to defeat Hades, don’t you?”

  Shrugging, I say, “I’d rather not let him win.”

  “Eat,” she commands. “And then there is something I must show you.” When Hera sees that I still haven’t touched any of the food, she says, “This is not the Court, nor is it the Underworld. The food is safe to eat.” She holds a pomegranate in her hands, peeling it with her magic. “Here.” A pre-peeled piece appears on my plate, a dark and deep red.

  It does look very tasty…

  I am slow to pick it up and even slower to put a piece in my mouth. When I bite into it, its juices seem to explode with flavor. If this is what the afterlife will be, I’m fine with it. Although, from the sounds of it, only the heroes in the Elysian Fields get to eat stuff like this and be in a place similar to this after their death. I’d be one of the unfortunate souls left wandering the ever-expanding Underworld, too unremarkable to belong in the Elysians and too much of a goodie-too-shoes to get sent to Tartarus.

  Even though I feel guilty about it, I end up eating my fill. I eat so much that I feel like vomiting. Luckily I keep it all down. I don’t think it’d taste as good coming up as it was going down.

  “There is so much mortals have forgotten,” Hera says as we walk through Olympus after our meal. She leads me past the surrounding temples, to a garden on the edge of a cliff, where its stream merely tumbles off the edge, landing who knows where. “You have become slovenly and lazy, have lost all sense of tact.” Her hands are clasped together in her long flowing sleeves.

  I could say something snide back, but I keep it to myself.

  “Demanding to come to Olympus, demanding from us. Thousands of years ago, such a thing would never have been allowed to happen.” Hera leads us further and deeper into the gardens, past the birds and the colorful insects, father in than I would’ve imagined. The gardens are bigger than they appear. “I suppose desperate times do call for such measures.” Her eyes land on me as we walk, examining me. “Though I do not know why it is you. You look nothing like a hero of men, much less a Champion, as Athena calls you. A Marked mortal is useless. You are useless to us, because there will always be something in control of you.”

  “My freewill is still my own.”

  “Yes, but for how long?” Her legs stop us at a grassy clearing.

  I’m about to be the smartass I usually am when I see something very, very strange. I’m in Mount Olympus, a mythical place for the Greek gods who are apparently real, so it shouldn’t be this shocking. But it is, and I have to do a double-take.

  A naked woman lays in a bed of flowers. Roses—pinks, reds, oranges, and whites—surround her, their thorns gone and their scent strong. Her hands are crossed over her chest, and as we draw closer, I’m able to get a better look at her serene, calm face.

  Skin alabaster white. Hair, yellow as the sun, splayed out around her head, pin straight. Thin, delicate figure. No blemishes anywhere I could see.

  I know her, though I’ve only seen her a bit older. I know that when she opens her eyes, they’ll be a deep, pure blue, like Dagon’s.

  Persephone.

  “I thought…” My words stop, for I don’t know what to say.

  “She is nothing more than a body made of clay. Demeter molded this one after her and…Zeus’s daughter after her soul was taken by him.” And by him, Hera did not mean Hades; she meant Lucifer. “But she remains an empty vessel, no soul to fill it. You can understand Hades’s will for vengeance. She was the one bright spot in the Underworld, even if he did trick her there in the first place.”

  “I don’t want Lucifer to win, either,” I say, tearing my gaze from the Persephone lookalike, bringing it up to Hera, who’s nearly a foot and a half taller than me.

  Hera tilts her head. “Yet you would be on his side against Hades?”

  “No. I won’t be on Lucifer’s side. I won’t be on Hades’s side. I’m on my own side. I want my friends to survive—and if that means going against every Demon, every dead soul, every god and deity from every religion—I’ll do it still. I won’t back down from a fight, no matter how big it is.”

  The strength behind my words makes Hera lose some of her overconfidence. Her eyes seem to darken. “You…I can see why Athena admires you so. You will have your audience with my husband, although I cannot promise that such words will sway him. Tomorrow morning, at dawn.”

  “Tomorrow?” I repeat. “I can’t wait that long.”

  “You must.” Before I have the chance to say anything more, she starts walking away. She stops. “Oh, and I will put the word out. You will be safe on Olympus for now. You may rest in the gilded tower. If you lose your way, follow the clouds.” With a swirl of a feathery spikey portal, Hera vanishes.

  I hold in a moan. These people must think I have nothing better to do than spend my time bathing and eating and waiting. That was my life before the apocalypse. Now? Ain’t nobody got time for that.

  I toss a glimpse over my shoulder, at the body. She looks real, not very clay-like. Would tossing a soul in that body and giving her to Hades stop this madness? I shake my head. No. Even if somehow she did wake, she wouldn’t automatically belong to Hades. She’d be her own person, probably without any memories of Hades to begin with.

  Plus, after everything he’s done, that son of a bitch doesn’t deserve another chance.

  Chapter Four

  Follow the clouds.

  What awful advice. There are literally clouds everywhere. She couldn’t portal me to it? Where’s Aphrodite or Athena when I need them?

  I do what I do best; I wander. I wander until I can’t wander anymore. I follow every wisp of a cloud that slips through the temples until they fade away. As I walk, I wonder if Dagon can’t portal here himself. Would he grow weak as he did when he was in the Underworld? Was he not allowed to be here because of his Seraph blood?

  I then think of Deb, her baby, what would become of it if she keeps not eating. If things don’t change, it won’t end well. Of course, that leads me to think about David. Despite the death of the world, he seems happy with her. If something happened to her, he’d be devastated. And that would jeopardize the water for our group. Then Eve would go, and Mike, not to mention the few kids that are left, and Penny would die, and leave Nat alone.

  I need to stop that train of thought. It’s not going anywhere pretty.

  Hollow. Empty. Utterly and totally depressed. I felt hardly anything inside, especially when I sat and took time to remember what happened—Gabriel’s wing poor, innocent Josie, the look on her face as the heavenly feathers cut through her like a hot knife through butter.

  We hunkered down in a house nearby, still far too close to where the damage was done, but we would stay here until we decided where to go. Should we even attempt to go to D.C. still? Were there any people left out there, or were we it? Were we just waiting to be picked off one by one by angry, vengeful gods and lying, deceitful Seraphs? I didn’t know.

  At this point, I hardly cared.

  I currently sat in a bedroom, on a made bed, facing the window. It was day,
but the curtains were drawn. Dagon and David and the others were downstairs, talking about what we should do, where we should go. I was in no mood to join that talk; I’d rather sit here and wallow for a bit. I thought I deserved it, after everything.

  I was glad I gave the bastard’s wing to Deb, even more glad she kept it out of sight. I didn’t want to ever see that damned thing again, but the more practical part of me knew that we should keep it just in case. Never know when a Fallen might come in handy, though I’d never want to see his evil silver stare again.

  Josie.

  I failed her, just like I failed my dad. I couldn’t save either of them. I tried playing hero, and in the end it didn’t matter. In the end, I failed. All those people in that town, dead because of me and Dagon.

  Tears formed in the corner of my eyes, and I was too depressed to bother wiping them away as another presence entered the room, his footsteps heavy. At first, I thought it was Dagon, futilely attempting to comfort me. It wouldn’t work, of course. I was too sad to be comforted, the wound too fresh in my mind. I still saw it every time I closed my eyes.

  But it wasn’t Dagon. It was Mike Hess. Agent Awesome who had a history of betrayal, yet his betrayals never hurt quite like this.

  He sat beside me, rough hands on his dirty pants, gripping his knees and looking awkward next to me. Mike side-glanced at me, saying slowly, “I know it’d be stupid to ask what happened.”

  I smiled bitterly. Yes, because the man had stormed off after Dagon and I returned to the group with the news that Josie was dead.

  “All that matters is that she’s gone,” Mike whispers, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the locket that Erin gave me not too long ago. He rubbed his thumb over it, inside the metal sitting pictures of her and his dead wife. “It’s all that ever matters.”

  I kept quiet, not having anything to say. Truthfully, there was nothing left to say.

  “I’d be lying if I told you it gets easier. It doesn’t. All those people who tell you that you’ll get over it are liars. After all this time, I think I know what they meant to say.” Mike sluggishly slid the locket back into his pocket. “Let me try to explain it to you.” He brought a hand to his face, wiping at his eyes. “Let me have this…dad moment.” He paused to sniff. “It doesn’t get easier, but you get stronger. You toughen up. There will always be a part of you that’s missing, but you get used to it. You get used to them being gone—”

  When he started to choke up, I turned and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around me, leaning his stubbly cheek on my head, and for a moment, we sat there, unable to do anything else but weep. Josie meant a lot to me, but to Mike—well, she was like a second chance at saving his daughter. He probably thought he failed her just as much as I did.

  “It’s not fair,” I muttered into his chest, doing my best not to sob outright. I wasn’t doing a very good job. Mike’s shirt would be wet after this hug was over. I was able to save him, to break Hades’s control over him, but I couldn’t save Josie? That was the epitome of unfairness.

  “It never is.” After a while of wallowing, I pulled away, allowing Mike the chance to get up and run from this depressing encounter. He was slow to stand, blinking back his emotions and hiding them well like he’d done all the time I’d known him. “We’ll get through this, all of us. Together. I’m with this group one hundred percent. Just try to remember,” he said softly, moving to the door, “that I owe that to you. We’re all here because of you. We still need you. This apocalypse isn’t over yet.”

  I watched him go, wondering if that was some kind of belated thank-you for saving him, if he was trying to make me feel better by telling me that it’s not all for nothing.

  But he was right. The apocalypse wasn’t over. I still had work to do. It didn’t matter how badly I wanted to give up; I couldn’t. There were still people depending on me. That day I made a vow to myself. Whether or not I’d get to keep that vow was unseen.

  I wouldn’t let anyone else down.

  Just when I decide to think about something else, I find my destination. Taller than the other temples, the gilded tower, as Hera dubbed it, was more like a temple overlooking the edge of Olympus. As I walk inside, my sandals echo on the clean floors, and I see that the back of the temple has no walls, so you can see the kingdom of clouds spread before it.

  Pretty, if you like that sort of thing.

  I bounce with a sigh, finding the nearest room and flopping on the bed. One of the walls in the room is all glass, the rest of the walls adorned with paintings of curly-haired and bearded men. Everything is so decadent; it puts my parents’ old house to shame. The wooden frame to the mattress is carved into goats and horses, a sheer fabric draping over it, thin enough that I can look through it and still see the mural painted on the ceiling.

  Zeus with his thunderbolts, hurdling them unto the earth.

  It’s the last thing I see before I’m pulled into a dream, in spite of the broad daylight outside.

  The next time I open my eyes, I’m in my parents’ house, dressed in my normal leather jacket, jeans and boots. I slide off the bed and fold my arms across my chest when I see the man standing near the doorway.

  “How rude,” I deadpan.

  Dagon rushes to me, grabs my face and leans his forehead against mine. His fingers weave through my hair, and before I can stop him, he’s kissing me. Hard, fast, hungry. All words I’d use to describe how his lips feel. He pulls his mouth from mine long enough to whisper, “Why did you go without me?”

  During the frantic kiss, my arms have somehow wound up around his neck. I whisper, “Because I didn’t think you’d be welcome here.”

  “You cannot trust them. They are on Hades’s side.”

  “Not all of them.”

  “If they had to choose between family and mankind, they’d choose family.”

  I stare into his eyes, mini-oceans in their depths. “But you didn’t choose family.”

  “He was never much of a father to begin with.”

  I chuckle, drawing my finger along his jawline. “Remember when you first told me who you were? Showed me how big your wings were, trying to get me to be your obedient little pet? I own you.” I mimic his voice for the final part, going as deep as my vocal chords allow.

  “If only I knew then it was the other way around, we could’ve been doing this a lot more.” He presses his mouth on mine, but I pull away and squirm out of his grasp.

  “So confident,” I tease. I sit on the edge of the bed. We’re in my parents’ guest room, where Josefina’s mom was killed, where I watched my dad die. I try not to think about it either, instead saying, “You know, Aphrodite thinks we should just do it.”

  Dagon is fast to sit beside me. “I agree with her.”

  “Easy for you to say. You wouldn’t hold something in your belly for nine months only to have your evil father eat him.” I groan, falling backwards so that I’m laying on the bed, my legs dangling off the side.

  Lying next to me, Dagon places a hand on my stomach. “In these dreams, we could—”

  I stop him. “With your magical penis everyone keeps reminding me of, somehow I’d wind up pregnant anyway.”

  “I don’t think it’s magical,” Dagon says seriously. “From what Mike says, it’s average.”

  I roll my eyes. Somehow it doesn’t surprise me that Dagon and Mike talked about dick size. A typical guy thing to worry about. Me, on the other hand, I’m worrying about anything going down there. Anything at all. Maybe sperm could shoot out of his fingers, too. Seraphs are so potent, blah, blah, blah. I get it.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to,” I say finally. “I do. There’s just so many other things I have to worry about. The last thing I need is to add ‘protect my son from his evil grandfather’ to the list.”

  “Then when the final battle comes, we will defeat my father, along with Hades.”

  I turn my head and say, “Again, so confident.”

  “In all the stories David tells, the good
guys win.”

  “But this isn’t a story, Dagon. It’s real life, and in real life, the good guys can lose.”

  It hits me as I say it. The good guys can lose. I’m a good guy, and all this could be for nothing. I can prepare myself and my group and get all the answers I can, and still lose it in the end. I can watch everyone I love die, just like my dad and Josie. This could all be mute.

  Dagon sees my worrying and brings the hand from my stomach, resting it on my cheek. His thumb grazes my lips, and I find them parting slightly in a natural response. “We won’t.”

  “We’re a ragtag group of ten, mostly civilians, with one pregnant woman and one mostly used-up Warlock. And we’re missing our best Vamp. There’s no way we can take down armies of Demons and the dead.”

  “Speaking of the mostly used-up Warlock,” Dagon says, “he has a plan.”

  I widen my eyes. David has a plan? He never has plans. “Does this involve cult-like mass suicide? Because I’ve never been a fan of that, even if it’s always an option.”

  “Better. And seeing how you often go on adventures without me, perhaps this one I can tag along.”

  Having absolutely no idea what Dagon means, I tug his shirt’s collar and whisper, “Only if you’re nice to me.” I giggle as he crawls on top of me.

  Let’s just say he was very, very nice to me.

  As nice as I would let him be.

  After a full night’s sleep—and by sleep, I mean making out with Dagon—I open my eyes and yawn. I need another nap. My legs swing off the bed, and I blink a few times. It dawns on me that I’m not alone.

  In the corner, Hermes floats, eyes squinted. He stares at me like I’m some animal on display in a carnival. He looks the exact same as he did yesterday, down to the very folds on his robe.

  “How long have you been there?” I ask, groggy.

  “Not long at all,” he answers. “Just two hours.”