Page 248 of Bonds of Hercules
The tingling intensified as my fingers grazed the viscous liquid—blood hardened and reshaped—I grasped the rod.
Once again, one end was sharp, and the other was round. It was heavy and thick in my hand, like a staff that was meant to be held high, not a weapon to be wielded.
What … is this?
A pained whine echoed, and Fluffy Jr. stumbled to his feet, staggering toward me—the white fur of his face was stained red. Deep claw marks riddled his body.
I reached for him with my left hand.
There was an explosion of sound, sand vibrated beneath my boots, my left ear rang with awful feedback, and I tripped, disoriented as I looked around for the source.
It took a second to realize that it was coming from the stands.
Sparta was on their feet, cheering.
Their bodies warped beyond the humming electric force field.
“Hercules … Hercules … Hercules … Hercules!”
Zeus was staring down from his podium, sparks leaping around his scepter. His lion was lying on its belly, its head averted from the arena.
Fluffy Jr. collapsed at my feet and my panic increased as I realized why I felt so alone.
“NYX?” I shouted, unable to hear myself over the roaring stadium.
Sand moved near my feet and there was a faint hissing sound.
Cool, bloody scales slithered slowly around my leg.
I bent down. “Are you okay?” I screamed, barely able to hear my own voice.
“Little … injured,” Nyx hissed weakly. “Sleep … need … heal.” I caught every couple of her words.
Warmth dripped down my leg where she held on for dear life.
I brought my shaking fingers to her scales.
She was bleeding.
Profusely.
I stood up straight, struggling to see through my swollen eyes, barely able to hear because of the ringing in my ears.
Icy terror morphed into something fiery and dangerous.
All of this was Zeus’s fault.
Every.
Single.
Part.
I’d never hated, not like this, but now it was boiling me alive.
Eleven-year-old Alexis stood tall in a decrepit trailer and faced down two murderous adults.
I pointed the ball end of the rod up at Zeus.
