Skyla’s head darted up. “Sirens from my order came to you?”
“Yes,” Isadora said. “I take it from your reaction this is news to you?”
Big news. Enormous news. Yeah, Skyla had yet to check in with Athena as she was supposed to, but if the head of her order had already sent Sirens to tail them and also to Argolea to request help, it meant she’d never trusted Skyla in the first place. It also meant if Skyla didn’t follow through on her orders and kill Orpheus, as Zeus wanted, her future with the Sirens would come to a dramatic end.
Of course, maybe that was the plan all along. A sneaking suspicion took root in the bottom of her stomach as she gripped the mattress. Maybe Athena had set Skyla up to fail right from the start.
The Siren call to duty is one that is meant to be answered, served, then abandoned, and we never intended for you to serve this long.
Reality was a sharp, swift slap to the face. Athena had said the words clear as day, and Skyla had heard them but hadn’t realized their meaning.
“Siren?” Casey asked again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little green.”
No, Skyla wasn’t okay. Not by a long shot. Because this suddenly was not another of the thousands of missions Zeus had sent her on over her long life.
This time, she was the prey.
Chapter 15
Hades was in a piss-poor mood. His hellhounds had failed. Scouts had found them in the mountains of Montana with Siren arrows through their hearts.
Orpheus, the Siren, and that stain, Maelea, were nowhere to be found. Not even a trace of them remained.
He tapped his long fingers against the intricate armrest of his blackened throne and waited for Orcus to bring him news. Yeah, he’d lost track of Maelea, but that didn’t mean he was out of options. He was the Lord of the Underworld because he anticipated his enemy’s next move. And he was rarely wrong.
If Atalanta was plotting something in Sin City with his father, Krónos, and the soul of the Argonaut Gryphon, it meant her escape plan was imminent. And if she promised Krónos enough, his lying shit-for-a-father would tell her exactly where the Orb could be found. Even though Krónos was locked in Tartarus, he was connected to that damn thing. He knew its every movement in the human realm.
Hades ran a hand over his chin. Once Atalanta got out, what would she need? Her army of daemons had disbanded when she was sent to the Fields of Asphodel. They now roamed the earth in secret, causing havoc, but they were no longer organized thanks to the Argonauts. She couldn’t rely on them. She’d need her slave’s help locating the Orb. And a soul needed a body, to be of any use in the human realm. He stroked the patch of hair on his chin. The Argonaut Gryphon’s body was still alive, wasn’t it? Possessed by that warlock, Apophis.
Apophis…
Hades’s mind skipped back to his last confrontation with the warlock. In Demeter’s temple on the island of Pandora. The warlock had been trying to take the earth element from Isadora. Hades had intervened, wanting the element for himself. Thinking back, he realized there had been something different about Apophis that day. Not just the warlock’s newly acquired—and improved—body, but a strength the aging warlock shouldn’t have possessed in the human realm, even in the young Argonaut’s skin.
“Motherfucker.” Hades pushed out of his chair. The warlock had the Orb. He’d had it the whole time. And Hades had been so intent on getting the stupid element from the little queen, he hadn’t even noticed.
He turned a slow circle. Pictured his precious wife. Persephone would have known, of course. During the month she’d had access to Isadora’s power of foresight, thanks to the deal she’d made with the then-princess to save her sister’s life, Persephone had been able to see where each of the elements and the Orb were hiding. That’s how he’d known Isadora was going to find the earth element in the first place. But his wife had neglected to mention the Orb. The Orb she undoubtedly knew was with Apophis right now.
“That traitorous little wench…”
“I’m sure you couldn’t possibly mean me.”
Hades whipped around to find a Fate sitting on his altar, her legs crossed, her diaphanous robe hanging off her lithe and wrinkled body to float to the blackened floor. Annoyance at the interruption and bitter hatred for the creature who screwed with his life vied for his attention. “You are a wench of another kind.”
Lachesis smiled, the bitch, but it faded quickly when she said, “And you violated our agreement.”
He rested his hands on his hips. She was talking about her precious hero. Like he fucking cared about Orpheus right now. “I did no such thing. The weasel’s still alive, isn’t he?”
“Yes, no thanks to you.” She tipped her head. “Hades, I shouldn’t have to remind you, you cannot send hellhounds to kill him. We made a deal.”