The creature swallowed hard. Though he knew, as she did, that she retained her godlike powers, she couldn’t use them to free herself from this vile holding cell. She’d been trying for nearly three months and had come up empty. Her only hope was now this pint-sized…friend.
And if he couldn’t help her, she’d use her powers to turn him to dust. She still had that much strength left.
He shifted on his feet. Leaned forward and whispered, “The gates to the human realm are watched. There’s no passage through there.”
“Bollocks.” She twisted away, the wind blowing her black hair behind her as she stared at the barren sky above. I will blast you for this, Demetrius. For every second I’ve been locked here. You and the daemon spawn who helped trap me here.
“But…” Galto whispered at her back.
She glanced over her shoulder. “But what?”
He looked around again as if searching for eavesdroppers, stepped close, and motioned her down with his gnarled hand. She bent to hear his soft words. “But rumors circulate of an Argonaut in the Underworld. One sent here by magic, not death.”
“An Argonaut, you say? Here in the Fields of Asphodel?”
“No, mistress.” He glanced around again. “In Tartarus.”
Atalanta stared down at the scaly creature as ideas, opportunities, plans solidified. Aside from death, there was only one magical force strong enough to cast people into Tartarus. And only one magical force strong enough to free them.
“Can you get me into Tartarus?” she asked.
“Of course, mistress. But the journey is fraught with danger.”
She looked across the undulating gray field again, only this time she didn’t see the drab wheat and colorless vegetation. She saw a way out. And a way to finally have her revenge.
“Danger, Galto, is only a matter of perspective. And where we’re heading, it’s worth it.”
***
Skyla didn’t stop at the gates of Olympus and announce herself as was customary after returning from the human realm. She bypassed the guards and headed straight for Athena’s temple.
The facade was as gleaming and ornate as Zeus’s palace, although the interior was a different story: plush furnishings, bold colors, rooms that bled from one richness to another and showcased the goddess’s affinity for whimsy.
She passed through the main hall with its canary yellow walls and purple tile-framed mirrors, down three steps into Athena’s living quarters where leather furnishings were paired with whitewashed tables and heavy eggplant-colored velvet curtains. She searched the whole of the palace before she realized the goddess wasn’t there. Glancing toward the clock high on the wall, she realized Athena would be with the Sirens at this hour. Training for kills yet to be made.
She closed her eyes, pictured the Siren Compound—well within the walls of Olympus but outside the gods’ domain—and flashed there, opening her eyes when the ground solidified beneath her feet.
Acacia and wild olive trees rimmed the compound. The five main buildings—Siren headquarters, the training facility, mess hall, and barracks—were made of wood, painted white to match the marble monstrosities of the gods but clearly meant for those less endowed. Bitterness brewing, Skyla skipped steps to reach the porch of the main building, pulled back the screen, and stepped into the lobby of the Siren Order.
Head shots of each Siren who’d ever served lined the white-painted walls, a veritable yearbook of those who’d served and died. But today Skyla had no desire to walk down memory lane. She wanted answers and she wanted them now.
The front desk was empty. She stepped out of the welcoming area, moved past Athena’s empty office, and reached the end of the hall, where she glanced out the back window toward the training field beyond. Just as she’d thought, Athena was at work with a group of six Sirens—mostly new recruits—covering mortal-combat maneuvers.
Skyla crossed the emerald green grass. And as if the goddess sensed her presence, Athena looked up and frowned.
Athena straightened from a crouch, eyes still cast Skyla’s way. “I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got time for, ladies.” She looked back at her newest recruits. “We’ll take a short break. Get some water.”
The newbies, three of whom Skyla had never met, sized Skyla up. When Skyla sent them a withering glare, they moved off toward the barracks across the field in a cocoon of whispers, leaving Skyla alone with her mentor.
The pain of betrayal burned hot in Skyla’s veins, but she capped her anger, knowing there had to be a logical explanation. Something that made sense of a situation that couldn’t possibly be real.
Athena braced her bow against the ground, brushed her chestnut curls over her shoulder. Though the goddess of war could have passed for a Victoria’s Secret model, she was as tough as they came. Her blouse was white silk, her hip-hugging trousers jet-black, and her goth boots as kick-ass as the ones Skyla wore. Yeah, it made sense Athena was the head of the Siren Order. She could lure a man in with simply a look, then gut him even before he knew what had happened. “Well, that was quicker than I expected.”