Page 254 of Blood of Hercules

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Theros wailed.

Sharp feedback rang through my left ear.

I stared down at my ravaged hands—shattered bones visible through ruined skin—as everything spun around me.

I inhaled sharply.

Oh my god.

No.

Please no.

It hit me like a punch straight to the face—exactly what Patro meant about the power in my chest. It was the reason I’d felt pressure in my chest when I’d bonded with Fluffy Jr., when the other initiates had only felt it in their heads.

Patro had said Olympians felt their power differently from him and Achilles.

I was like them.

I was Chthonic.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

God help me.

There were four times in my life I’d felt the blinding chest painI’d felt today.

One.

Foster Mother had died after I’d scratched at her face with bloody nails. She’d screamed something about a red eyed devil while staring straight at me.

Two.

Boys pleading and convulsing during the massacre, foam dripping out of their lips, after I’d clawed at their wounds with my bloody fingers. Them staring up at me with horror. A red glow reflected in the fog.

Three.

Christos splashing in the water, foaming at the mouth as he screamed and tried to get away from me—after we’d shaken bloody hands.

Four.

The siren, wincing as she’d cut herself on a knife that was covered in my blood. Her dying shortly after.

Each time, I’d felt excruciating pain in my chest like I was having a heart attack.

It hadn’t been panic.

I’d been killing them, murdering them.

Unlike this time, there’d been no one there to talk me down, to teach me how to control my powers.

“YOU SLAUGHTERED THEM.SINNER!” Father John screamed in my mind as he pointed at me.

Patro said Hades’ fog shows you the worst thing you’ve ever done.

You heard Mother screaming.

The fog attacked you at the end becauseyouwere killing those boys.

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