Page 51 of The Shadow Gods

It should have been enough. He should have been stone. But like something out of a bad comedy, he tripped. The weight of the stone caused him to pitch backward, right into the water.

And that was it.

His body lost its man-shaped form and went liquid, disappearing with a splash into the fountain as the rest of the statue crumbled into dust.

I'd almost had him.

Alone inside a bubble of silence, I studied the piazza. Hector, Achilles, Pollux, Paris, and Orestes hit, kicked, and smashed their hands against a wall of air. Their gazes were wild, scanning madly. They were looking for me.

Just thinking about them tucked the otherness away. With one last ghost of a kiss on my cheek, the serpents disappeared, leaving me alone.

Achilles backed away, then ran, full tilt toward whatever was separating us. But it wasn't there anymore. It had dissolved with the danger.

His eyes went wide as our gazes connected, but he didn't stop until his arms were around me.

“Are you hurt?” He held me at arm's length, studying every inch of me, even turning me around to examine my back. “Gods. Never again. You don't leave our sight.”

“Leo!” Pollux jerked me away from his friend, scooping and lifting me so my feet dangled above the ground. “I'm sorry.” He placed me on the ground and pressed a hand against my cheek, then leaned down until our lips met. His kiss was desperate and hard—more about assuring himself that I was real and solid than any romantic gesture.

Hector was next, fear cut into every feature. His blue eyes were glassy, the pupils blown wide despite the bright sun blazing in the sky. He passed me to Paris, whose face was bloodless and drawn. I could make out every bone, so he appeared gaunt and skeletal.

I wanted to puke. All I'd tried to do was protect them, but by shutting them out and pushing them away, I'd terrified them. I imagined myself in their shoes and knew that, if they were locked in with something that wanted to destroy them, I'd want to be there, no matter what the danger.

“I didn't mean to scare you,” I said, gripping Paris's T-shirt in my fists. “I'm sorry.”

He let out a breath, but a tremor ran through is body. “I thought that was it. I thought I lost you, and I'd never be okay, Leo. Never.”

“You're stronger than any of us,” Achilles said quietly, “but that doesn't mean you can fight a god alone.”

“She was protecting us,” Orestes spoke from a distance. He stood, staring at me, hands locked behind his head. “Weren't you?”

I nodded. “I could have killed you.”

“I was supposed to protect you. I didn't think it was dangerous here, not more than any other place.” Orestes stayed away, holding my gaze, but not coming closer. It wasn't because Paris hadn't released me. There was something else.

“Are you afraid of me?” The otherness in me squirmed, trying to get away from the thought. We'd never hurt him. Never. Not if we could stop ourselves. My stomach rolled. “I'm going to be sick.”

Paris shielded me as I emptied my stomach on the ancient stones of thePiazza del Nettuno.Eyes watering, I tried to breathe as my body turned itself inside out.We.I'd thought about myself as more than one person, because I was.

There was something inside me that had awareness. I wasn't alone in my body. It freaked me out, but it wasn't an unfamiliar sensation. I'd lived this before and was just returning to a state I'd existed in long ago.

Those serpents had protected me. They’d fought with me and wanted vengeance as much as I did.

That wasn't what made me sick. It was the idea that Orestes was scared of me. “I won't hurt you. I promise.”

“Gods, man,” Achilles ground out. “What's wrong with you?”

“No.” Orestes approached me, hands in front of him the same way Poseidon had tried to ward me off.

Achilles moved in front of him, stopping him from getting any closer.

“Let me explain, for fuck's sake!” Orestes yelled, startling me. He never yelled.

I held the back of my hand to my mouth. “I understand.” Sweat rolled down my temple and past my ear. I was sticky and uncomfortable and really needed some water to wash out my mouth.

Paris suddenly appeared, an open bottle of water in his hand. He handed it to me, and I took a long drink, gaze scanning the destroyed fountain. Something black and iridescent shimmered in the water.

“What is that?” I asked, but I was already stepping toward it. Snaking his arm around my waist, Paris supported me. At the base of the fountain, beneath the water, was a jagged piece of obsidian. Without thinking, I reached into the water and took it out. Liquid sluiced down its sides, but the image it revealed was clear as the bright Italian sky.

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