Blood of Hercules: Chapter 31

Alexis: End of January

Some revelations you could never recover from.

You’re a murderer. A butcher. You’ve slain multiple people. How can you live with yourself?

The thoughts—the truth—wouldn’t stop stabbing through my skull.

Guilt was a boulder on my shoulders.

Crushing me.

Face numb, body frozen, I plodded down the aisle with a bouquet of black calla lilies clenched between my fingers as harp music played.

All of Sparta turned to stare at me, their crowns and jewels gleaming. Hundreds—Spartans, protectors, and creatures—were crammed into the grand palace. Most were standing, but the Chthonics, crowned guests, and Charlie were seated.

At least he’s here. You’ll never be apart again.

It wasn’t enough.

I wanted to murder everyone, and the kicker was—I actually could.

They won’t even be your first, second, or third victims.

I’d done the impossible—I’d accidentally become a serial killer.

Help?

A spiky, ruby-covered silver crown was heavy on my head.

Ribbons were tied around my throat in a delicate noose, a white diamond-encrusted toga draped off my shoulders, and matching silk flared into a cape, dragging across the floor.

My will to live dragged with it.

War paint completed the pretty (morose) picture: blush colored a corpse’s cheeks, mascara brightened dead eyes, and lipstick kept the screams inside.

Chandeliers sparkled over black marble floors in the high-ceilinged atrium, and grand windows framed the snow-dusted banks of Lake Como.

Where are the pitchforks? The fire? The ghouls? The blood? The demonic energy?

Hell looked different from what I’d imagined.

Up ahead, my birth people—my parents?—sat with a three-headed dog and dragon at their feet. Persephone leaned into the petal-covered aisle and mouthed, “I love you.” She wiped at her eyes, lips quivering.

Hades wrapped his arms around her and mouthed, “I’m so proud of you, daughter.” Male twins with unique crowns sat on his other side.

Hades smiled at me.

I wouldn’t be.

I wasn’t smart enough to see the trap they’d laid.

I’m just a loophole.

Forcing my lips up, I gave them a reassuring smile.

Internally, I was raging.

Screaming.

My birth people looked so hopeful.

Over the last two weeks, they’d let Charlie stay with us and had nursed my hands to health. They’d even remembered it was my twentieth birthday.

They’d done everything they could to help me “move forward” past the kidnapping, and Hades took great pleasure in telling me that Theros had mysteriously “disappeared”.

No one was searching for him.

While the likely torture of my kidnapper was a positive, it wasn’t enough to fix the overarching problem—me.

My smile dropped as I walked past them.

I could only pretend for so long.

In the next row, eleven Spartans wore large jeweled crowns and exquisite finery. All the House leaders were in attendance. Zeus glowered, and his lion showed its teeth. I resisted the urge to bare mine back.

The House leaders frowned at me, and I let them see the misery in my eyes.

I’d never been a big fan of tyranny.

This wedding is a sham.

Because of your stupid law—my life is ruined.

On the other side of the aisle, Patro’s expression was furious, and Achilles’s posture was rigid. His arm was stretched across Patro’s chest like he was physically restraining him from causing a scene.

Charlie sat stiffly beside the two of them. His yellow irises were wide with concern.

Helen was next to him with a shell-shocked expression, like she couldn’t believe this was happening.

That makes two of us.

At the front of the aisle, Fluffy Jr. slept on the floor with an invisible Nyx wrapped around his neck.

In the last week, he’d grown three sizes larger and one hundred pounds heavier.

I couldn’t be sure, because his features were still lumpy and covered in tufts of fur, but I’d potentially bonded with a hideous horse.

Dark times indeed.

During Fluffy Jr.’s sudden growth spurt (early-onset obesity?), he’d formed a friendship with Nyx—she tried to strangle his thick lumpy neck, and he wagged his gnarled tail, thinking they were playing. Thus her current position wrapped around him.

Poco sat next to my murderous animals, chewing on both his hands at the same time.

Every few seconds, for seemingly no reason, the racoon would let out a loud ear-piercing screech.

We were all trying our best.

After all, I was walking toward them.

My steps faltered.

Silk cloaks and long black togas did nothing to civilize the unhealthy glint in their unblinking eyes. They were beasts masquerading as men.

Kharon’s short, usually messy, hair was perfectly slicked back under his crown. He swallowed thickly, and the black ink of his neck tattoo—“Furia”—was stark against his pale skin.

Beside him, Augustus wore glasses, and his two-toned hair hung under his crown, down to his waist in a silky sheet.

The new looks did nothing to soften either of them.

They were wolves in sheep’s clothes—in the sense that they’d gutted the sheep, put its severed parts in a box, and then gifted them to me so they could maintain their sick lineages.

Augustus’s jaw ticked as he glared, perpetually furious with me, and Kharon cracked his neck like he was getting ready for battle.

That can’t be good.

I stopped at the end of the aisle, and the music cut off.

The silence was charged.

Cruel satisfaction flashed in their eyes as they flanked me.

I was trapped.

The familiar elderly officiant stepped forward, her eyes a startling shade of violet and hair pure white.

Up close, her features were eerily familiar.

My stomach dropped to my knees.

That’s why I recognized her after the massacre. She delivered Charlie to the trailer, ten years ago.

I was free-falling, arms wide, unable to slow my sharp descent into madness.

She gestured to the men. “I’m glad that you took a chance on the killers—great choice,” she whispered to me.

I stared back, unamused.

Is this lady for real right now?

She ignored my general aura of disdain, unrolled a scroll, then squinted with surprise like she was seeing it for the first time.

Long awkward moments passed, and as we waited, I stewed.

There was no choice involved in this sham of a marriage.

While the Houses were against the union of three Chthonics, they’d pushed it forward as quickly as possible to mitigate the scandal of a precious heiress taking part in the crucible. Everyone wanted to save my feminine “honor” so I could remain “pure.”

Too bad I was filthy.

I’d been rolling in the mud for years: starving, using illegal food stamps, killing, lying, pretending, doing anything I could to survive.

There was nothing honorable left to save.

The urge to leap away was overwhelming, but I bit down on my tongue to stop the word from tumbling out.

My parents were watching with hopeful expressions, and Sparta would never let me leave, not now that they had their precious Chthonic heiress back. Not now that they thought my “sacred” betrothal was voluntary. Helen’s honor was also somehow “smeared” by her association with me.

She’s only sixteen. She doesn’t deserve to suffer for that scumbag.

Also, Kharon and Augustus would hunt me down—they’d stalk me to the ends of the earth—if I tried to run away.

So there was that.

The noose tightened around my throat.

My betrotheds shifted closer, like they could read my mind.

I should have worn a bomb.

Their hands rested possessively on my lower back—one on top of the other. Body heat burned through thin layers of silk.

I tried to inch away from their touch.

They leaned into me.

Salt and musk mixed with the scent of electricity, and I shivered.

I was standing in the middle of a hurricane, waiting for the eye wall to hit.

Kharon dipped his head to my ear. “Are you okay?” His voice was a throaty rasp.

No. I’m cheating on Carl Gauss. I’m an unloyal whore.

Memories of fingers dragging across my chest scoured my brain, and butterflies fluttered.

He tangled a finger around the one curl that hung freely down my back and tugged sharply, smirking. “Are you, carissima?” he repeated.

He’s mocking me.

I glared up at him. “No,” I whispered. “No, dearest. I’m not.”

Kharon’s smirk fell. “You will be,” he said through gritted teeth.

The pretense of civility was gone.

“No,” I said. “I won’t.”

Augustus shifted closer. “Pay attention—don’t do this now,” he whispered, glaring at both of us, black eyes flashing.

“You would say that.” I scoffed.

Fingers flexed across my spine, pressing harder into skin.

“What’s that”—Augustus ducked his head low, breath hot against my ear—“supposed to mean, Alexis.”

The ends of his silky hair brushed across my collarbone, and the butterflies exploded. Queasiness twisted deep in my stomach.

I hated the way he said my name.

Like it was a sin.

Like it meant something to him.

“Or,” Augustus whispered huskily against the shell of my ear, “should I call you—Hercules?”

A lily stem snapped in my hand.

I turned toward him. Our faces were inches apart, disconcertingly close.

“How about you call me nothing—Professor. I’m only here because you tricked me.”

Black eyes pooled into a bottomless abyss.

“You’re here because you accepted our gifts,” he said harshly. “I warned you that someone would step in with how reckless you were acting, and you agreed that we would be the ones to take care of you—Kronos fucking knows you need the help.”

I choked. “You’re delusional—I’d never choose you two . . . not in a m-million years. You trapped me.”

Kharon stiffened, jaw clenching beside us.

“That’s not true, Alexis,” Augustus said darkly, his nails digging harder into my lower back. The man had a thing for scratching me.

“It is. I’m positive,” I snarled. “Don’t touch me.”

I stepped away—Augustus grabbed my bicep and yanked me back between them.

“But you belong to us,” he said silkily. “You’ve shown it. Acta, non verba.”

Deeds, not words.

Trying to yank away, I snarled up at him, “In your dreams. I haven’t shown you anything.”

“Oh, Alexis, you don’t want to know the wicked things I dream about—don’t test me,” Augustus whispered ominously. “Not here, not now—you won’t like the result.”

I scoffed in his face. If he attacked, I’d kill him with my blood powers.

Great, I’m embracing murder.

The officiant cleared her throat, and the three of us looked up with annoyance.

Augustus dropped my arm.

She gaped, scroll trembling in her hands.

“Oh my,” she said, blinking rapidly. “This union is definitely going to be—intense. Better get on with it before . . .” She trailed off.

Before what?

Her violet eyes started to glow an electric shade of blue.

“We’re here today,” she bellowed, her voice three octaves too deep to be natural, “to witness the most sacred Spartan oath, which will unequivocally chain these three souls together . . . for all of immortality!”

A trickle of fear skittered down my spine.

Not unite.

Not tie.

Chain.

I’m only standing here because they didn’t want to do this with an Olympian.

Her head snapped forward. “Look into one another’s eyes,” she commanded.

Augustus and Kharon shifted in front—I reluctantly looked up.

Glacial blue.

Soulless black.

“Now repeat after me!” The officiant’s voice was muffled, like we were all deep underwater, drowning.

“Omnia causa fiunt. Vi et animo. Sic itur ad astra.”

My lips were numb.

“Everything happens for a reason. With heart and soul. Such is the way to the stars,” we said in Latin, voices mixing.

The officiant threw her arms above her head.

“Stet fortuna domus!” she shouted.

We repeated in unison, “Let the fortune of the House stand.”

The last syllable rang through the silent atrium.

The storm slammed into me.

White-hot pain seared my heart. I was skewered on a phantom sword. Gasping for air, bent over, I clutched at my sternum as agony burned relentlessly.

The pressure was astronomical. Unfathomable.

Harsh grunts echoed as Augustus and Kharon leaned back, jaws clenched as they gripped their chests.

The three of us burned together.

Abruptly, as quickly as it had begun, the pain stopped.

All was still.

What did I just do? I should have run.

But a dull ache still simmered deep within my heart, like the calm was just an interlude, not the end.

The worst is still to come.

Hands on my knees, I coughed as I struggled to catch my breath. Someone rubbed my back soothingly.

When I finally found the strength to stand straight, Kharon and Augustus had recovered. They stared at me with laser focus.

I grimaced.

Why aren’t they blinking?

The officiant exhaled loudly, scroll clattering.

“I knew you three would be electric, but that was . . . unexpected.” Her voice was grave. “What a—powerful union . . . There will be consequences for sure—dark consequences.” She shivered. “There always are.”

Numbness spread.

If I wasn’t experiencing the worst panic attack of my life, I might have worried about her unsettling abstruse comments.

As it was, I felt nothing.

I’d reached my limit.

She clapped her hands together and smiled widely, like she was overcompensating. “Now you may exchange rings.”

Augustus pulled a long, thin velvet box out of his toga.

Inside were two matching black bands of snakes eating their own tails, with rubies for eyes. Attached to the bands was a chain of blue diamonds that formed a bracelet at the end.

Augustus and Kharon put the serpent bands on each other’s ring fingers and clasped the attached bracelets around their wrists.

The jewelry pieces were much flashier than a human wedding band.

“Now—I will attach them, permanently,” the officiant said as she stepped forward with a metal tool.

The men held up their wrists, and she clamped the glowing end of the tool around the bracelet clasps. There was a hissing sound as the metal heated and the clasp disappeared.

Wonderful, permanent jewelry you can’t remove. What’s next? A collar and leash?

I felt sick.

The men clapped each other on the back and embraced.

Kharon pulled out a larger velvet box.

An oval blue diamond, blindingly large, sat on a thin gold band, and a long dainty chain of matching blue diamonds hung off it.

I blanched at how ostentatious it was.

Augustus grabbed my left wrist firmly like he could sense my hesitation, and his calluses scraped across my skin as he held my hand up for Kharon.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I tried to wrench my hand out of his grip.

His fingers flexed, and I couldn’t move an inch.

As we grappled, Kharon slipped on the extravagant diamond, which covered the entire lower part of my finger.

Everyone who saw my hand would know what it represented.

Their eyes flashed with primal satisfaction as Augustus positioned the long, thin chain across the top of my hand, pushing my sleeve back so he could clasp the attached bracelet.

He stilled.

Augustus’s fingers spasmed, and Kharon inhaled sharply through clenched teeth.

Since the healed skin was still sensitive, I hadn’t been able to cover my wrists with hair ties like usual.

Old white scars crisscrossed with new red marks. The skin was ravaged.

No one moved.

“These are old—what the actual fuck?” Augustus growled, clenching his jaw tightly. “How did you get these?”

“It’s nothing,” I whispered as I tried to tug my arm away, but this time, Kharon held my hand still. His scowl was dangerous.

Augustus took a deep steadying breath as he clasped the bracelet. “We’ll talk about this later.” His eyes burned with violence.

“No,” I said through gritted teeth, “we won’t be talking about anything.”

The whites of Augustus’s eyes filled with blood.

I bared my teeth.

Before things could escalate (things being homicide), the officiant stepped forward and melted the clasp.

When she was done, I yanked my hand back to my side protectively.

Augustus stared at my arm, like he could see through my sleeve and was trying to memorize my scars.

The blue diamond was heavy on my finger, and the chain prickled against my oversensitive flesh.

It’s permanent. I really can’t take it off.

The world wobbled.

“Now,” the officiant said, “you may kiss the bride.”

My heart raced, skin tingling with strange anticipation. Sorry, Carl.

“But wait.” The officiant held up both her hands and chuckled awkwardly. “Let me get out of here with everyone else before you . . . kiss.”

Why would she need to leave?

I turned around, and my stomach twisted with confusion. Most of the guests were already walking down the aisle out the front door. Only a few men remained seated.

Persephone waved from the front lawn, Lake Como sparkling behind her, then she and Hades disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Muffled booms echoed as guests disappeared.

Only a few lingered in their seats.

“Everyone, out!” Kharon shouted at them, his raspy voice snapping like a whip. “Now.”

Why?

Some of the remaining men jumped to their feet and left.

Achilles had to drag a fighting Patro away, and Charlie reluctantly followed them.

Only one man stayed. A gold laurel crown sat atop his blond hair, and he kicked his feet up, lounging back.

“Leave,” Kharon demanded as he took a step toward him threateningly, and Augustus held him back.

The blond man grinned cockily. “It’s the laws of Sparta,” he said. “A marriage kiss may be witnessed by a member of the public, if they desire to stay.” He put his hands behind his head. “And I desire to stay.”

Kharon clenched his hands into fists. “Is that so?”

Augustus stepped off the dais and slowly sauntered toward the man.

Then, moving quicker than my eyes could follow, he lunged and grabbed him by the throat.

Augustus’s eyes glowed crimson red, and he stared at him for long tense moments.

A silent battle waged.

The blond man whimpered, and phantom pressure pulsed behind my eyes as I remembered the feeling.

Augustus released him. Standing up straight, he adjusted his togas. A slight flush across his cheeks was the only sign he’d done anything.

In contrast, the blond man staggered to his feet, eyes unfocused, blood gushing profusely from his eyes, nose, and ears. Then, like a zombie, he turned and stumbled down the aisle out the front door.

There was a commotion outside as he collapsed, and a boom echoed as someone took him away.

Augustus smirked up at us, eyes still bloodred. Kharon chuckled darkly.

Two monsters sauntered toward me.

I took a step back, bumping into the stone altar.