Page 213 of Bonds of Hercules
Father John was right again—the devil hid in plain sight.
All along Achilles had been a dragon, hiding in the skin of a man.
Fingers abruptly wrapped around my neck from behind—I jumped in my seat—a calloused thumb scraped down the ridges of my spine.
Panic clawed at my jugular.
“Don’t,” Kharon whispered gravelly against my right ear, “be afraid, carissima.”
It wasfartoo late for the warning.
38
SEDUCTIVE PROPOSITIONS
ALEXIS: SGC DAY9
Drex and I stood next to a marble pillar on the edge of the room, out of the way of the dance floor.
A stack of speakers sat in the corner with an unused electric guitar plugged into it. I stared at it.
A canorous piano melody tinkled through the room, and the musician was good, but not as talented as Kharon.
On the dance floor, I caught glimpses of pastel eyes and long shimmering hair, but whenever Lena came into focus, she was pulled away, disappearing into the crush of bodies.
Olympians, sirens, and all manner of creatures spun languidly to funereal hymns. Sparta was nothing if not morbid.
“Drex, I have pointers for you!” Agatha called from a few feet away, where she was talking to Hermos and Patro.
Patro scanned the room, meeting my gaze—he looked away.
Emotions welled up in my throat.
Drex blushed at Agatha’s attention. “I’ll be back,” he said as he threw back his glass of ambrosia with one nervous gulp and walked away.
Tomorrow it would be his turn in the arena.
Leaning against the pillar, I opened my mouth to tell him to hurry—and erupted into a coughing fit.
Napalm and kerosene still stung the back of my throat.
I rubbed my tingling palms against my toga, vision warping.The dance floor was on fire, water dripped from the ceiling, the droplets mixed with flames. Heat scorched my cheeks.
I reared back.
The room was normal. Spartans laughed and danced with abandon.
Everything was fine, except … it wasn’t.
Little fires burned everywhere.
The battle was raging, and the Chthonics were losing.
Drex, Kharon, and Augustus each had to fight, and then it would be my turn in the arena.Twelve labors.
Patro rocked back and forth, listening to something Drex was saying to Agatha—a pool of crimson was gathering at his feet, leaking out the holes of his laces—and there were bloody boot prints across the floor where he’d walked.
Patro glanced at me again, despair in his eyes.
