Blood of Hercules (Villains of Lore Book 1)
Blood of Hercules: Chapter 19

Alexis

“I can’t believe you grew up with humans,” said Lena, the siren who’d cried naked in my lap but now sat on my right side at the end of the circular booth.

Her words sounded normal to me, but Nyx said they sounded like inarticulate rasps.

Apparently, when I spoke, I was also rasping, which was bizarre because it didn’t feel any different from my usual speech.

It suddenly made sense why everyone always gave me weird looks when I talked to Nyx.

I couldn’t even imagine how strange Nyx’s language sounded to others.

No wonder everyone in high school thought I was a freak.

“Your childhood must have been wild,” Lena said, leaning into me.

I coughed awkwardly.

Oh yeah, starvation, abusive parents, and homelessness. So wild.

The siren was still butt-crack naked (free the nips and lips) and was now stacking a pile of knives in the middle of the table, which were apparently part of a card game? I was too scared to ask.

Seductive piano music played.

On my left, seven other sirens were crammed into the booth with us. Yes, all of them were naked.

“The human world really must have been so cool.” Lena wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, her beauty shining in the darkness.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “It was—interesting.” Phantom pain shot down my wrists. “You know, because of the Titans, and f-fall of civilization.”

She shrugged like that part didn’t matter.

“Are all humans really sexually repressed prudes?” she asked, wiggling her brows.

Oron, who was the only male siren at the table, leaned over me—since he sat on my left—and high-fived Lena. “That’s a good question.” He winked at me.

I grimaced back.

His thigh pressed flush against mine (do not look down, Alexis—don’t do it).

“Stop glancing at his engorged penis,” Nyx hissed and tightened around my throat.

If she says “engorged” ever again, I will kill us both. No questions asked.

My cheeks flushed because apparently, I was a pervert.

It didn’t help that around the room, sirens and Spartans were still coupled and moaning. Hips thrust. Skin slapped. If anything, the fervor had gotten more aggressive.

Naked sirens and Spartans were still clamoring around the piano, now performing lewd acts.

Lena saw where I was looking.

“Now that is a real man,” she whispered as she nodded to the pianist. “Every siren knows what happens if you have the honor of touching him. He’s a legend in our community. His powers are . . . toe-curlingly delicious.” She sighed dreamily. “If you know what I mean.”

Nope.

I had no clue what she meant.

Maybe sirens are just really into music?

Lena snapped her fingers to get my attention. “Back to the main question, Alexis—are all humans prudes?”

“No,” I said as I tried to ignore (watch) the unholy acts occurring near the piano bench. “Some humans are closed-minded, but a lot are very open—sexually.”

Too sexual.

People had forgotten that Tim-Tom announced in homeroom that he could pick up a ruler with his ass and then spent ten minutes trying to give a demonstration.

Sadly, I couldn’t forget.

However, Lena didn’t look convinced by my answer as she dealt cards to everyone at the table.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I’ve heard humans are afraid to have sex with all different types of people. It scares them.”

I shook my head. “That’s not true.”

A part of me was surprised that I was talking so freely to them. This was the most I’d conversed with anyone. Weird.

“So how many men have you had sex with?” a siren asked from the end of the booth, large breasts jiggling as she jumped up and down with excitement.

“Oooooooh.” The sirens clapped with excitement. “Another good question,” someone said.

Laughing (whimpering), I waved my hand dismissively.

The siren winked, her hair glittering. “I see . . . you lost count. I respect that so much.”

I pursed my lips. “Not—exactly.”

Lena wiggled her brows again. “At least tell us how many women you’ve been with?”

I winced and shook my head.

“Creatures? Spartans? Centaurs?” Lena asked, eyes narrowing like she was studying a bizarre creature.

“Wait, Centaurs are real?” I asked. “So do they have horse heads or h-horse bodies?”

Many debates on the subject had been held in the high school halls. Tim-Tom was team horse head.

“Obviously a horse head.” Lena rolled her eyes, like she hadn’t just blown my mind. “Now answer the question, woman. How many people have you had sex with? Anyone counts. Please, mother of spirits, tell us.”

“Wait.” I blinked, unable to let it go. “So centaurs have a human body . . . with a horse head?”

This was life-changing information.

Lena slammed both her hands on the table, scattering cards. “Alexis,” she warned. “Answer the question.”

“Why are all the sirens looking at you with horror?” Nyx hissed. “Did you tell them about your Emmy and Carl fanfic—I told you it makes you weird and unlikable.”

She doesn’t understand mathematicians like I do.

Lena slapped me on the arm. Hard. She gazed up at me expectantly and waited.

Might as well rip the bandage off.

Picking at the lacquer on the wood table, I sighed heavily and whispered, “I’ve n-never had sex.”

The sirens all nodded in understanding because abstinence was sexy and mysterious. At least in my mind, that was what I thought would happen.

In real life⁠—

“NO!” Lena cried out like someone had been shot. Then all the sirens in the booth started wailing. Nyx joined, just for the drama.

I sank lower into the booth and wished I could disappear off the face of the earth.

Nearby Spartans paused fornicating to see what all the commotion was about.

I should have kept the bandage on.

Lena pointed at me accusingly. “So, you are the repressed prude. Why have you chosen to live such a miserable life?”

Because I’m scared of people. Touch. Sexuality.

Shrugging, I mumbled under my breath, “There wasn’t much choice involved.” The phantom aches worsened.

It wasn’t easy to lose your virginity when you lived in a cardboard box and absolutely loathed being touched.

Instead of letting it go, the sirens perked up at my answer.

“We can change that. Do you want to fuck? Now?” Oron placed his hand on my thigh.

Jumping away from his hand, I nearly crawled out of my skin. “No.”

Oron shrugged, still smiling.

“Can we please play the card game?” Changing the subject, I looked at Lena pleadingly.

“Of course.” She nodded, expression grave. “Oh, big, beautiful prude.”

I pursed my lips and decided to be flattered.

At least I’m big and beautiful. It could be worse . . . maybe.

“So the eight knives go in the middle of the table,” Lena explained. “But there are nine of us, so we pass around the cards until people get four siren spirits or four Spartan Houses of the same colors. If you do, you snatch up a knife and anyone can grab one—the person who doesn’t get a knife, must do a dare set by the rest of the table.”

“So we fight over knives?” I asked, sure I was misunderstanding.

All the sirens nodded with excitement.

“Exactly,” Lena said. “The fun part is when it gets violent and people tussle.”

“Oh,” I said, unsure how to put my feelings into words.

This is either going to be great fun—or a bloody disaster.

Two hours later, I screamed with laughter as I wrenched the last knife out of Lena’s hands before she could fully get it.

“Not fair!” she yelled. “How the heck do you keep grabbing them by the sharp side?”

I shrugged and wiped my hand off on my toga. A few cuts on the fingers were nothing in the grand scheme of things. Heck, I barely noticed them.

“Why do I feel so—bubbly?” I asked no one in particular.

“Oh, that’s the ambrosia in the food and drinks,” Lena said casually.

I turned to her. “The what?”

“Ambrosia—it’s a tasteless spice in all the food that acts as an upper, but don’t worry, your half-human heritage should neutralize the effects. It impacts full-blooded Spartans the worst.”

“Oh, that’s good.” I grinned (I had no clue what I was saying).

One siren at the end of the table yelled to Lena, “I dare you to go make out with a Spartan—then tell him he’s ugly to his face.”

Everyone burst into laughter.

“You gotta do it,” I said. “That’s the rules.”

Lena rolled her eyes, flouncing out of the booth into the darkness. She pushed a random Spartan against the wall and kissed him thoroughly. The man melted in her arms.

“You sir—are hideous!” Lena yelled into his face.

Our table erupted into laughter.

Tears streamed out of my eyes as the Spartan looked at her with adoration. What an idiot.

“Do you want a drink?” Oron asked me as the bartender passed out shots at our table.

“No.” I tried to smile, but it ended with a grimace.

“How about a smoke?” The siren at the end of the table offered a cigarette.

“Nah.” I laughed. “I’m good—I feel great already.”

“Want to do Spartan drugs?” Another siren held up a white pill. “They make you hear colors and see music.”

Honestly tempting.

“Maybe later.” I laughed louder. Even feeling as good as I was, I was still aware that I wasn’t emotionally ready to dabble in hard drug use. It wasn’t my time—yet.

“She’s our big prude,” Lena said proudly as she slung her arm around my shoulder.

“Okay, next round!” Oron gathered the bloodstained knives and put them back in the center of the table. Cards were passed around, and we started to play.

Mid-game, he put his free hand on my arm. His chunky gold rings—decorated in siren spirit symbols—dug into my skin.

“You must try my drink,” he whispered. “It’s so good, you’ll love it.” He winked. “Just a sip.”

The bubbly feeling fizzled slightly. “No, th-that’s okay,” I stuttered.

“YOU LOST!” Lena shoved at my shoulders and hooted. “Finally.” The sirens held up their knives.

Darn it.

“As a punishment—” Lena tapped her lip. “—you have to get naked, like the rest of us.” The table laughed and heckled.

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please.”

“Do it! Do it! Do it.” They drum-rolled their hands on the knife-covered table. One siren winced, then laughed, showing off a cut from where she’d accidentally hit a knife.

“Fine.” I held up both my hands, then slowly lowered them to my thighs.

They leaned forward with anticipation.

In one swift move, I stood up awkwardly in the booth and yanked up my skirt—everyone screamed.

Laughing, I shimmied my hips, showing off the unflattering shorts that were built in under the toga, preserving my modesty.

“I’ve lost all respect for you,” Nyx said dryly.

With a grin, I kissed her invisible head before she could recoil, and I put my skirt back down. She slithered down into the top of my toga to hide from my attention.

“Nooooooo,” Lena screamed good-naturedly as I sat down, laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. Everything really is hilarious these days.

Everyone resumed chanting. “Do it! Do it! Do it.”

“Wahoo,” I shouted while laughing. Grabbing the short sleeve of my toga, I pulled the ultra-stretchy material down so my arm was out.

The table oohed and aahed appropriately as I showed off my shoulder and my elbow.

Apparently, I had a knack for performance theater (stripping). This feels like a very lucrative talent. I should pursue this.

I pulled out the other side so both my arms were free.

Everyone clapped, and I laughed. As a naturally introverted person, there was something strangely intoxicating about all the attention. I was soaring through the sky, light as air.

Slowly, I pulled at the stretchy material that covered my chest and made faces as the table laughed harder.

The piano music stopped.

There was a commotion in the far corner of the room.

The bench went flying, knocking over three naked sirens on their knees, as the pianist stood up.

Still dragging my toga lower, I recoiled in horror as glacial blue eyes flashed.

Tattooed letters stretched across a pale throat, and shadows were stark on a sharply defined face. A weapons holster stretched across a white silk shirt with blue crystal buttons—it was full of guns.

Kharon stalked across the room toward me.

Death in his eyes.

He shoved away a naked Spartan male who approached, then he did the same to a siren.

Oh my god, he’s the pianist.

Why was everyone trying to get to him and not away from him?

It hit me: after the massacre at Corfu, I’d thought I’d hallucinated piano music, but it had been real.

Kharon had been playing in the house.

Distractedly, I stretched my toga fabric lower and⁠—

“What the fuck are you doing?” Augustus’s callused hand wrapped around my neck, his fingers dug possessively into my sensitive skin. His other hand roughly yanked the straps of my toga back up.

Kharon stopped, still halfway across the room. He watched, unblinking, as Augustus touched me. His expression was unreadable.

I forgot how to inhale.

“It was a simple question.” His breath tickled my ear as he squeezed my neck tighter. “Why are you taking your clothes off in public?”

“Professor,” I whispered as he choked me. “What are you doing?”

He leaned close, dark eyes feral.

“I’m taking control—Alexis,” he said silkily.

“Why?” I swallowed thickly.

He made a harsh noise in the back of his throat. “I’m done pretending.”

His thumb stroked softly down the column of my throat, fingers burning against my much colder skin. His dark-green dress-shirt sleeves were rolled up, showcasing a tan forearm covered in thick veins.

My stomach fluttered. Am I into older men?

Yep—ambrosia was 100 percent a drug. There was no way I’d think that in a sober state of mind.

I gasped for air as his grip tightened.

His lips hovered next to my ear. “This isn’t a game, Alexis.” My name rolled off his tongue like a confession of sin. “I know who you are.”

Is this about my meeting with Zeus?

He didn’t remove his fingers from my neck.

I was at his mercy.

Caught in his snare.

Heat pooled in my lower stomach, and everything got hazy in a dreamlike way. The scent of ozone filled my nose, and invisible electric sparks leaped between us.

Warm lips brushed against the shell of my ear. “You have no idea just what you’ve done with your little display. What you’ve started . . . ”

Goosebumps exploded down my spine.

He inhaled deeply, then let out a guttural moan, like he couldn’t help himself.

After a long moment of breathing harshly, like he was struggling to compose himself, he said, “You fucking infuriate me.”

His words jolted me out of my trance.

I wrenched my neck out of his hold and fell back into the booth. “Leave me a-alone,” I said, barely able to speak in his presence.

“Hey, get off her!” Lena shouted and flung her elbows forward.

Since Augustus was leaning over her to get to me, he grunted in surprise and staggered back.

“Thanks,” I whispered to her, hands shaking.

“What did he say to you?” Lena asked curiously, but I kept my gaze on the table, since he was still standing behind her. Watching. Waiting.

He was ready to break my mind and crush my will.

“Nothing good.” Nothing that makes any sense.

Oron threw his arm around my shoulder and pulled me back against his naked self so he was flush against me. He’s touching me. He’s touching me a lot.

I froze.

It got even harder to breathe. My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. My vision warped.

“I got you, Alexis, don’t worry,” Oron said. “We won’t let him hurt you.”

I grimaced and tried to sit up, but he held me down in the booth.

Sweat poured off my temple, and I breathed shallowly, vision blurring further. A weak feeling washed over me.

Sirens and Spartans stared at me.

The room spun.

“Are you okay, kid?” Nyx asked. “Do you want me to bite him?”

The panic worsened.

“I need to get out of the booth,” I whispered.

Lena quickly made room, and her gentle hands guided me out.

I stood up shakily.

The problem was Oron also escorted me out of the booth. He held on to me from behind as he whispered platitudes into my hair.

Before I could do anything, Augustus grabbed Oron by the back of the neck and ripped him away.

“How dare you touch her?” Augustus snarled, then he chucked the siren across the room like he weighed nothing. “IF ANYONE IN SPARTA LAYS A SINGLE FINGER ON ALEXIS—THEY ANSWER TO ME!” he roared into the room.

I blinked up at my professor—the man who hated me—in horror.

What the heck is he doing?

He loosened his suit jacket button, flashing the weapons holstered across his chest.

Panic filled my lungs.

I staggered back.

Gasping, hands on my knees, I greedily sucked in air and whispered, “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” to Lena. Something was happening to me—I’d lost all control.

I was no longer flying.

I was plummeting.

What the freak does ambrosia do to a person? It felt like adrenaline but ten times worse.

Spartans and sirens turned toward the commotion.

Embarrassment burned my chest.

Before I could come up with some explanation (remember how to speak), Augustus stepped into my personal space.

Tension crackled in the air. “Alexis, you better leave the symposium, now,” he commanded. “Or else . . .” He trailed off dangerously.

The shame intensified.

Head low, I tripped toward the exit as I tried to leave.

Lena stepped in front of my path. “I don’t know what’s happening,” she said. “But if you need help, I’m here. You’re not alone. Don’t let anyone treat you less than you deserve, great one.”

She looked at me like she thought I was powerful. Only Charlie had ever looked at me like that.

Breathing deeply, I nodded.

Tried to gather courage from her.

The room spun faster.

“I’m not leaving,” I whispered to Augustus, eyes still focused on my new friend. I won’t let him boss me around. I need to speak up and stand up for myself.

She smiled at me encouragingly.

Brutal hands grabbed my waist and threw me into the air.

I screamed and blinked in shock as Augustus’s shoulder slammed into my stomach.

He’d thrown me over his shoulder.

He was carrying me toward the door.

“Stop him!” Lena screamed, but Spartans held her back as she tried to run after us.

The rest of the booth stood beside her with angry expressions, holding the bloodstained knives threateningly.

A few feet away, Patro arched his brow at Augustus like he was surprised by his actions, but he leaned against Achilles and didn’t intervene.

The rest of the Spartans fell over themselves to get out of Augustus’s way. Everyone respected him and thought he was fair.

No one was going to help me.

Lifting my head, I gave Lena a watery smile. “I’ll be fine,” I mouthed, not wanting to scare my new friends with the dark reality of my life.

But the sirens must not have believed me, because shouts echoed, and a shoving match broke out.

I panicked for my new friends. Pain spiked through my already pounding chest, bright and hot.

Am I dying?

Augustus slammed open the door to leave the symposium—the last thing I saw was a Spartan shoving a siren and her falling to the ground screaming, foam bubbling at the corner of her mouth.

“We need to help her!” I said to Augustus as I waited for him to put me down, banging at his back. Panic intensified.

“Someone else will assist her,” he growled. “There are the best Olympian doctors in the world inside there.”

He’s right.

The white-hot pain in my chest slowly dissipated, and I stopped struggling, but he still didn’t release me.

Just stalked down the steps, then across the fields silently.

It took me a second to realize the blob on his leg was Poco. The racoon was wrapped around his calf, staring up at me with a curious expression.

Augustus carried us both like it was nothing, his steps large and powerful.

His right arm pressed against my legs, and his hand gripped my right thigh.

My head spun faster.

Nothing felt real.

Calluses scraped against skin as his grip tightened—he probably got them fighting Titans.

I shivered.

My skin tingled.

His breathing was loud and ragged in the night, and his chest heaved with every step. But he didn’t seem tired—he seemed unrestrained, like he was trying to get control over himself.

Moonlight cast strange silver shadows, and I shivered in the cold.

“Put me d-down,” I demanded when the shock wore off enough that I could speak.

His grip on my thigh tightened.

That was his only response.

A strange queasiness burned me alive, and dark butterflies fluttered inside my stomach.

“Uh—should I do something?” Nyx asked around my neck, and even she sounded unsure, like she didn’t know what to do.

Her voice pulled me out of my shock. “No,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

After a deep calming breath, I beat my fists against his back and wiggled as much as possible.

“Release me!” I demanded, punching with all my might, fighting for freedom.

Muscles bunched beneath my fists, but Augustus’s steps didn’t falter.

He didn’t even grunt.

I fought harder and screamed with everything I had, bucking and kicking. Desperate to get free.

Minutes later, I hung limp.

Panting with exhaustion, I was too tired to fight anymore. Poco tittered up at me—I made a face at the racoon.

Your taste in Spartans sucks. How could you bond with him?

Poco hissed.

I hissed back.

Fingernails dug harder into the back of my thighs as he carried me, hard enough to bruise. I shifted slightly, and Augustus made a rough noise in the back of his throat.

“One hour,” he said silkily. “Kick me one more time, and I’ll add another hour on top of the one hour punishment you’ve already earned.”

I froze, leg stilling.

“What punishment?” I asked. It was the first time he’d spoken since the symposium. “One hour of what?”

“I warned you,” he said softly, his voice vibrating with rage. “You’ve pushed me too far this time.”

“Wait—what did you warn me of?” I asked, genuinely confused.

He didn’t answer.

Not cryptic and creepy at all.

Great, he’s definitely going to torture me.

“Uh—kid,” Nyx whispered as she clung to my upside-down neck. “I think Augustus really is into you, like really into you.”

I shook my head and breathed deeply. “No way,” I breathed out quietly. “He hates me.”

“Yes, way,” Nyx shivered. “He’s wild for you—practically savage. You’re in deep shit, sister. This is way worse than I thought. He hates you so much that he wants to fight—in the bedroom.”

I choked. A manic bubble of laughter burst out my throat, and tears of despair streamed out of my eyes.

“Carl Gauss would never treat me like this,” I whispered miserably. “What happened to nice men who love math and treating a woman right?”

Nyx scoffed. “They died out because they were pathetic and embarrassing losers. No woman wants a nerd.”

“I do,” I said.

“No—you just think you do,” Nyx hissed. “What you want is a real man who wants to slaughter for you.”

I shook my head. “You need help.” Tears dripped down my face.

“Well—you need to get dicked down.”

I cried harder because it was official: my best friend was a perverted lunatic. It was all too much. I couldn’t keep living like this.

My bones were rubber, muscles ridiculously weak.

Lena thought I was powerful; she’d looked at me with hope, like she’d believed in me. But some opponents were too heartless, too ruthless, to keep fighting. Sometimes, there was only one way forward.

I closed my eyes and hung limp.

Sometimes all you could do was play dead and wait for the storm to pass.

It hurt less that way.

Two voices whispered at the edge of my subconscious.

They were watching me.

Staring.

Stalking.

With a gasp, I woke up. My heart pounded painfully inside my sternum.

Nyx mumbled but didn’t awaken.

I was alone.

The soft plop, plop, plop of candle wax and the crackling of fire were the only sounds.

Rubbing my eyes, I tried to orient myself.

Distantly, I recalled falling asleep while Augustus carried me back to the academy. I smiled as I remembered the events of the symposium before he’d ruined it.

You finally discovered your Spartan ability. You’re not powerless. You can talk to sentient creatures.

Relief made me light-headed.

That siren was screaming—she got hurt because of you.

I felt sick.

Sitting up, I took in the grandeur of the academy library.

I was sprawled out on a velvet chaise in front of a hearth, and someone had placed a knit blanket around me. The soft material was wrapped tightly around my feet, like the person had tucked me in.

A blanket was worth its weight in gold, since the fall temperatures had made the already chilled mountain miserable.

Had Augustus done it? No, he wouldn’t have. He hates me.

I checked my thighs and sighed heavily. Sure enough, there were purple bruises where he’d gripped me.

At least my ears aren’t bleeding anymore.

The bar was set alarmingly low.

Carefully, I pulled my new treasure around my shoulders and hobbled to my feet.

With a yawn I checked the clock on the wall; it was only three in the morning. The sun hadn’t risen yet, which was why the other initiates weren’t back from the symposium yet.

I had a few hours to myself.

Sighing again, I slumped into the seat I always studied in, and fingered the corner of my Thagorean textbook, where I’d written my name on the cover.

I might as well use this time to do a little studying.

I’d never admit it to the other initiates, because they complained about the class constantly, but I really enjoyed how complicated the Thagorean equations were.

I loved the rush of untangling the steps and replaceing the solution.

That was the nice thing about math: there was always a right answer. The process might be messy, but the solution was black and white.

Nothing else in life was as simple.

Ever since the stupid Spartan merit test, everything was confusing.

The back of my neck prickled, and I groaned but refused to look around.

No one is watching you. It’s all in your head.

Ignoring my deteriorating mental state, I cracked open the textbook, desperate for a distraction.

An index card fluttered out.

I turned it over with a yawn. Words were scratched messily across it in ink:

Rolling my eyes, I tucked it into the flap at the back of the book.

What a corny threat.

It felt like something a child would do if they were trying to scare someone.

I was trapped at an academy, starving to death and studying until I couldn’t trust my thoughts. The fact that someone wanted me gone was the least of my problems. Jessica had been meaner with her insults.

Titus or Alessander had probably done it.

They both had access to my books and had been way too quiet after the library incident, but I’d been expecting a much harsher form of retaliation.

Chuckling to myself, like I’d lost my mind (I had), I tucked the blanket tighter around my shoulders and repositioned my chair. It knocked against something heavy.

I bent over and picked up the offending object.

It was a medium-sized box.

It was wrapped in red velvet, a black silk bow with gold trim tied at the top. My name was written in neat cursive on a tag.

Oooh, a present.

I’d never actually gotten one before. It was a luxury Charlie and I never bothered to talk about. When you were starving, you knew the score; there were priorities, and frivolous gifts weren’t one of them.

Maybe it’s from the same person who gave me the blanket?

Slowly unwrapping the perfect edges, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. Maybe my luck is finally turning around.

After the dramatic (horrifying) events of yesterday, I needed a win.

Slowly, I pulled the heavy lid off.

The smile slid off my face.

Seconds turned into minutes as I stared blankly down at the contents.

I was frozen.

Unable to move.

Water dripped onto the table, and I realized I was crying.

Scales slid against my throat, and I jumped up, nearly falling out of my seat, heart pounding. A scream burned the back of my throat. It’s just Nyx shifting in her sleep.

Blinking, I slowly leaned closer to the box and gasped because it was exactly what I’d thought it was.

There were four objects on top of wadded-up black tissue paper: two eyeballs covered in red veins, a smashed nose, and a severed male finger with chunky gold rings. Blood was splattered across all of them.

The eyes were pastel.

The rings had the symbol of the spirit of sirens on them.

It was Oron—parts of him.

Suddenly, the note in my textbook no longer felt like a children’s game. Someone had murdered him. Torn him to pieces. Just to warn me away from the academy.

My hand spasmed with horror, and the box knocked over.

Something glinted underneath the body parts.

I was too sick to look.

Numb all over, with shaking fingers, I placed the lid back on the box and rewrapped it with the bow.

Like a zombie, I walked out of the library and up the stairs, out into the night. Around the side of the mountain, I found a large rock in the grass. Heaving, I rolled the rock over and revealed fresh soil.

Then I dug.

When there was a small hole, I put the box in and covered it with soil.

For a second, I thought about saying words. He’s dead because of you. What are you doing? You’re losing it.

Eyes widening, I turned and sprinted as fast as I could back to the academy.

Straight to the bathroom.

Collapsing onto the rusted toilet seat, I pulled my knees to my chest and rocked.

Teeth chattering from shock.

Paralyzed.

Hours later, boys laughed raucously as they came back from the symposium.

In a stupor I got to my feet, wiped my eyes, and stumbled to the library.

“Dude, that was crazy. I can’t believe Professor Augustus carried you out like that.” Drex ran over to the entrance as I walked in. “Everyone is talking about it—did you see the way he was staring at you all night? He literally stood in the corner just watching, not touching anyone. It was creepy.”

I looked at him blankly, unable to speak.

He must have seen something in my expression, because he waved his hand dismissively. “But it’s not a big deal. Honestly, everyone was freaking out about the siren who died.”

My head snapped up. “What happened to him? Who d-did it?”

They already knew Oron was dead.

I received his parts in a box. Help.

The urge to confide burned the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t know enough about Sparta. The underworld seemed like a heinous place; they could blame me and send me away.

Drex furrowed his brow with confusion. “Him? No—everyone’s talking about that female siren who dropped dead after you were carried out.”

The numb feeling became a crushing avalanche.

“Everyone thinks she must have been poisoned.” Drex grimaced. “It was probably another siren, they have rivalries, or maybe a dark creature, or a Chthonic—they’ve been known to attack other Spartans. Maybe they were trying to poison an Olympian but got her.”

I staggered backward into a bookcase and collapsed to the floor.

Drex’s eyes widened, and he offered me a hand up.

I didn’t take it.

“Sorry,” he said in a rush. “I shouldn’t have said anything. But it’s not your fault—even if Augustus hadn’t taken you away, they probably would have snapped and killed her later. Chthonics don’t need reasons.”

I gasped for air as I got to my feet.

The only Chthonics in there were my mentors, Augustus, and Kharon. I couldn’t see them killing her.

When I finally regained the ability to speak, I whispered. “Why do you speak like that when you’re C-Chthonic?”

Drex recoiled. “No, I’m not.”

“I saw you . . . during the massacre,” I whispered.

He blanched. “What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything.”

Why is he lying?

Drex leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t tell anybody, but my ability is endurance. My mind gets all euphoric, and I go into a trancelike state. I can run for miles . . . it’s crazy.” He grinned, clearly proud of what he could do.

Then who killed those three boys in the massacre?

I could have sworn his hand had been extended, eyes glowing red in the strange fog.

The hairs on my neck stood up as strange voices whispered.

“Do you hear that?” I pointed toward the sound.

“Hear what?” Drex asked.

The voices got louder. “There—that voice.” I pointed again.

Drex peered in the direction. “I don’t hear anything at all,” he said. “Nothing.”

My hand dropped.

How long have I been losing my mind?

Everything was falling apart around me, and nothing made any sense.

Do I have a brain tumor? Aren’t women at risk of schizophrenia until they’re twenty-six? Were my eye and ear not the only thing affected by the beating—did it permanently damage my brain?

“Never mind,” I whispered to Drex.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked as he reached for me. “You look really pale.”

I recoiled against the bookshelf to avoid his touch.

Drex put his hands up in a surrender gesture.

“Try to take some deep breaths. It’s going to be okay,” he said kindly. “I know it’s been hard for you lately—with Augustus causing a scene like he did. But it’s going to be okay. He’ll probably forget about it in a day or two.”

Drex peered down at me, and I realized he was waiting for me to do something.

I nodded at him. “Yeah,” I lied. “I’m s-sure he will.”

Pushing myself back up to my feet, I tried to look normal, like I wasn’t crumbling inside.

“Can you tutor me a little before class?” Drex asked hopefully.

I swallowed a whimper. “Sure.”

Numbly I sat back down at the seat where I’d found the box of Oron’s body, and opened the textbook, which still had the awful note tucked into it.

With cold lips I talked Drex through concepts and drew them out.

At one point Maximum Hera, the friendly initiate with blue highlights in his blond hair, sat down next to me and asked to study with us. Drex agreed before I could say no.

Maximum made small talk the entire time.

I wanted to die.

Hours later, I stared numbly at the rock floor of the classroom as Augustus told an ancient Latin tale about bull jumping.

He stopped mid-story and said, “Alexis—where did I say this took place?” His voice whipped cruelly.

“Mycenae,” I answered without inflection. It sounded foreign. Barren and cold.

A long beat passed as Augustus furrowed his brow and stared at me. Soulless black eyes narrowed like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

I stared back.

Numb.

Frozen.

Barely alive.

Break my mind. Take over my will. I dare you.

For the first time, he looked away first.

I didn’t feel any satisfaction.

In fact, I felt nothing at all.