Page 11 of The Brothers Bane

“Then it’s a good thing I’ll be setting you free.”

Everyone rumbles in dismay about the unfairness of Campe being allowed to leave while the rest of them must remain prisoners. They’re only allowed into the world while riding along inside a copy of me, morphed to look like them. I raise my hand to quiet them.

“I don’t just need you for the key. The party isn’t for a few days, which will be cutting it close with our timeline, but the more crucial piece of this is Nemea. There’s only one place Alcides would take her, and you’re the only one of us who can join her there. I need you to go to the Amazons and impress upon them the need to let you guard Nemea and help train her. We have only a few days until we confront the Titans, so time is of the essence.”

Campe’s eyes brighten with excitement, and she stands even straighter. “I won’t fail you. How will the rest of this heist work?”

I lay out the plan: In three nights’ time, Sybil is set to throw one of her infamous gatherings—ostentatious displays of excess meant to lure in the rich and powerful for her to have a taste of them, to gain leverage and manipulate. But I am hopeful she isn’t beyond manipulation herself. Pan will be the bait, easily seducing her and keeping her occupied for the night.

Campe at full power is capable of shifting into any creature she wishes, so she’ll take Sybil’s form, divert Chaos for some carnal fun, drug him with her breath, and capture his semen, which she will then pass off to Erebus, who can easily spirit it via shadows straight down to the vault, where I’ll be waiting. From there, all I’ll need to do is apply my boss’ essence to the door, grab the key, and head straight back to Erika and her team. Chrysaor and Cerberus will each be on watch for the two lovers to make sure we aren’t caught, and Typhon and Asterius will remain behind to oversee the prison in our absence.

“As security chief,” I continue, “I’ll ensure our paths are clear of any... complications.”

An impatient rumble rises from all around us, even louder within my mind. I’ve sensed Typhon’s unrest growing ever since Nemea’s departure. As the most even-tempered of all of us, I’d hoped he’d let it go. A moment later, a shadow passes across the window of our war room, followed by a thud that shakes the tower as he lands on the bridge outside and peers one big eye through the narrow window.

His deep, resonant voice causes the image of the casino map to vibrate. “Let me go this time, brother. Disguise me like the others. I need to be there. Either take me, or send me to Nemea.”

“You’re needed here, little brother,” I say. “And you know the Amazons only allow women. Alcides is only there on a technicality.”

He snorts hot steam through the window, filling the room in a fog. Chrysaor blinks and waves a hand in front of his face, then extends his wings and flaps them a few times to chase the fog away. Cerberus, true to form, looks bored and starts licking his balls with one of his three wolfish heads.

Erebus solidifies and rapidly signs, “You and Pan can give him any shape you wish when he’s occupying a clone. And the Furies would happily guard the prison while we’re away. There is no reason not to have all your best guards involved in this. Asterius too.”

I stare my brother down, unmoved by his silent pleas. The fact that he is signing rather than speaking right into my mind is telling.

He wants the others to see. The bastard is deliberately trying to undermine my authority. But as the warden of Tartarus, it is my duty to maintain control.

“The answer is no, Erebus. I will not allow Typhon to accompany us, nor will I release Asterius from his duties here.” My voice echoes firmly off the stone walls. I don’t elaborate because I shouldn’t have to.

Erebus’ shadowy form ripples in agitation, his hands flying in angry signs I pointedly ignore. The others are watching raptly. Cerberus even perks up, all three of his heads swiveling between the two of us.

Outside, one of Typhon’s giant eyes presses against the window, the steam from his snorting billowing through in wisps. Several smaller heads writhe through the gaps above and below the slitted green orb. Though he remains silent, I can sense his simmering resentment through our telepathic bond. He has always been the most curious among us, longing for the experiences he’s been denied since birth due to his fearsome shape. I fear granting his wish will only lead to greater yearning. Or worse, betrayal.

No, best to keep him here. The risk is too great otherwise.

Erebus finally stills, resignation weighing down his dark shoulders before he melts into the shadows. Typhon blinks one last time before giving the bridge one heavy stomp that makes the tower tilt to a sharp angle, forcing all the rest of us to grab the table for balance. It’s all I can do to mentally right the structure as my brother takes wing, trumpeting his displeasure.

I suspect this argument is far from over, and it throws me off-balance as much as Typhon’s tantrum threw the tower off-balance. The lingering psychic echoes from the pair burden my mind with notions of “fairness” and “potential.” As if our purpose here is anything more than eternal vigilance over the damned.

I turn my focus back to the heist plans glowing before me, ignoring the echoing departure of my brothers. We all have our duties. Mine is to retrieve the key, the final piece of bait we need to recapture the Titans.

As my remaining guards keep staring, I bark, “Anyone else have any grievances to air before we proceed?”

I let my gaze fall on Asterius, who scowls at me, but shakes his head.

Cerberus lets out a yip from one head and a growl from another, while the third is back to licking his balls.

“Cerb, I would appreciate it if you’d pay attention. You’re part of this plan, though if you’d prefer to stay in the prison, Asterius can take your place.”

The big hound emits a disconcerting whine from one head and stands. He rises onto his hind legs, his three heads merging into one as he steps up to the table. He scrubs a hand through his unkempt hair, then down his face, shaking his head as if shaking off a bad dream.

“I’m up to speed, boss,” he says, his voice a peculiar blend that seems to echo disparate undertones. His eyes flicker, briefly clouded with uncertainty that mirrors the merging of his minds. He doesn’t shift often if it isn’t necessary because of the occasional conflict that arises when three separate consciousnesses merge.

An odd, abrupt laugh escapes his lips—a rare slip of composure that hangs awkward in the air.

“You can count on me, always solid for Typhon, right?” His words jumble, though his loyalty seems clear, if tinged with an unintentional emphasis that contradicts our hierarchy. He gestures vaguely to the window Typhon vacated and the lingering wisps of steam that hang there, shimmering faintly purple in the light from outside the room.

Realizing my brother is no longer there, he frowns, then gestures to the shadows across the table. “Seems like Erebus is the one we need, though. Right, boss?” His voice trails off, yet again bringing into question whether he even knows who he’s talking to. His gaze shifts as if seeking my other absent brother.

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