“You almost killed her!”
Morgan darted away from Ascher and grabbed Kincade’s shoulder before he could go after Atlas. Only when she was sure he had himself under control, did she kneel next to Atlas.
He didn’t bother picking himself up off the floor, refusing to look at her.
“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to see her friends literally rise from their graves, rotting and decayed, and trying to kill her.
He gave a bitter laugh, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “I think that’s my line.”
Dread grabbed her by the throat at the wild helplessness in his eyes, and she feared something inside him would shatter beyond repair if she couldn’t bring him back from the edge. “Remember what you said when we first entered the tunnels…don’t believe what you see. This place was created to use our greatest fears against us. Those people weren’t your men.”
His anguished eyes finally lifted to meet hers, sanity slowly returning to them when he nodded. He lifted a hand to her bruised throat, then stopped before touching her. “I didn’t think.”
“Part of you remembered we were connected, otherwise, you would’ve killed the bastard without hesitation. You might not trust yourself, but I trust you with my life.” He was frazzled, coming apart at the seams, his cool veneer cracking. The small glimpse of his true self made her heart ache.
She didn’t want him to revert back to his old standoffish, pigheaded, superior ways.
She craved the closeness growing between them.
It was official—she was a bitch for enjoying his misery.
She stood and offered him her hand, feeling like her soul was fracturing, knowing she was going to miss seeing this vulnerable side of him when they found the way to fix him. “What do you say we finish this? Let’s go knock on the gates of hell and see if we can find a cure.”
Chapter Twenty-three
The gate to Tartarus was not what she expected.
It wasn’t a gate at all.
Once they entered the cavern, they discovered it wasn’t a cave, but more like a temple. The walls were of warm, golden-brown stone, highlighted by torches that ignited the second they entered. Pillars were placed around the room, artistically carved in a level of detail no human could duplicate. No dust or dirt lingered anywhere. It didn’t dare. Glyphs covered the walls, stories full of warning and foreboding.
The gist of the words—run now, and don’t look back.
Her men were taking in the layout of the room, searching for possible exits and traps, while Loki thought it was a game to chase after each of them, barking and growling as he clamped his teeth on their pant legs and shook, tugging with all his might.
At least one of the men was within touching distance of her at all times, the men rotating out so it wouldn’t be obvious.
The guards were flocked around Katar. While one was casing the place, the other two took their jobs a bit more seriously and were keeping an eye on the guys, seeing them as the biggest threat.
They always underestimated the girls.
Too bad now wasn’t a good time to prove her point.
But if she made one wrong move, her men would pay for it, quite possibly with their lives.
Ward stood at her side, studying the walls, and spoke under his breath. “There will be side effects when you enter Tartarus. The most obvious is with your pedigree—you could end up being trapped there forever, or even killed.”
Morgan stiffened, not at the not-so-veiled warning, but the way he hinted about the truth of her heritage. “Are you telling me not to go?”
He turned and looked at her curiously. “Would you listen to me if I gave you that advice?”
“No.” She didn’t even hesitate. She had no choice, not with Atlas and the very realm at stake. She eyed the crude collar around his neck. “Don’t move.”
He stilled, instantly on alert.
She carefully lifted her hand and gently placed a single finger against the metal, but Ward flinched like she had placed a knife against his balls. His skin was charred black where the metal touched it, telling her that he repeatedly kept reaching for his magic, searching for a weakness.
She would give him one.
She closed her eyes and felt the metal shift and twist slightly, the changes so subtle they would be almost invisible. She dropped her hand, and began to study the wall as if nothing had happened.
“What did you do?”
Morgan shrugged. “I’m giving you a chance. Use it wisely.”
His expression said he didn’t believe her, but a sliver of hope entered his eyes, the silver flecks scattering before quickly reforming, and he swallowed hard. “You have a plan.”
“No, but you should be ready to make your move if you get the opportunity.”
“You are different from the other people of this realm.” Ward crouched, his hand following a particular passage on the wall, a baffled tone in his voice. “None of them would risk as much with so little to gain.”
She reached out and smacked him on the back of the head.
And was gratified to see him gape at her in shock.
“Never tell me my men are worthless again.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
She cringed at his formal tone, but didn’t rebuke him, not when he sounded so sincere.
“This is where you keep your end of the bargain.” Katar grabbed her arm roughly and shoved her up the three steps to the gate, his eyes full of crazy.
He actually believed he was about to achieve godhood.
She waved off the men when they moved to protect her. She’d come too far to lose them now over a few bruises. Katar dragged her to a stop when they reached the top. He was dirty, rumpled, injured, and incredibly dangerous in his volatile mood.
“Open it.” He shoved her forward, and she stumbled closer.
Magic resonated from the wall in front of her.
Not normal magic, but ancient and wild and barely contained.
Etched on the large wall was an outline of a three-foot circle inside a larger five-foot circle. Sigils lined both circles, thirty-two symbols were around the outer circle, while sixteen symbols marked the inner circle, and one last larger sigil filled the center.
But the assortment of sigils made absolutely no sense.
“This is where you triggered the fog.”
No wonder.
If this was a safe of some sort, the combinations would be infinite.
And the wrong combination would release a new plague.
“We were interrupted last time before the transfer of power could be complete. The damned defense mechanisms were activated.” He nodded toward the wall, almost giddy as he rocked back and forth on his heels, then scurried down the platform. “You need to finish the transfer.”
The crazy coot actually believed she could not only summon the power of the gods, but would then be able to simply hand it over to him. He was too smart to risk his own life by trying again, nor was he powerful enough to survive a second attack.
But he was more than willing to sacrifice her in his place.
“The transfer didn’t fail last time.” Atlas gave a snide laugh. “You were found lacking. Nothing is going to change that. Even if she manages to summon the power, it won’t accept you.”
Katar narrowed his eyes, yanked out his knife, and placed the blade against his own throat.
The laughter stopped, and her men tensed, none of them moving a single muscle as she felt a single bead of blood trickle down her neck.
“No tricks.” Katar turned toward her and lifted his cursed pendant. “Or I’ll have him kill the others.”
No truer words were ever spoken. If Ward lost control of his berserker rage, it would be a struggle for any of them to survive, despite being trained assassins. She’d tampered with the collar, tried to lower the voltage and give him some control, but she wasn’t sure it would be enough.