Page 98 of The Shadow Gods

Gaze skimming over the landscape, I paused at the cave entrance and the hideous carving of Medusa.

There was no guarantee that Medusa could defeat the Cetus. I had acted too hastily earlier. The best course to take was one of observer. Should Medusa prove as powerful in death as in life, then I'd intervene. There were many ways to use a weapon. What was the sense of acting before action was warranted?

Time. Observation. Planning. That was the course I would take.

“Good luck, Perseus.” I smiled at him, ignoring the jolt of jealousy welling from the pit of my stomach as I forced myself to leave. “The gods are on your side.”

Orestes

Icould feel Leo. Her presence was like an electric current, and with each step in the right direction, it became stronger. What began as a tickle of static over my skin turned into something uncomfortable—a vibration along a metal wire that connected us.

I used it. Followed it. Over the cliffs, moving faster than I could remember, I reeled the wire like I was pulling in a fishing net.

“There.” I paused only long enough to catch my breath and point. Her face was smoothed out with the years, but the serpents and wide eyes could only represent one person.

“This is it,” Hector said as he came to stand next to me. He studied the cave face and the boulders tumbled across an entrance that had to be there. “She's in there.”

“She's not alone,” Pollux added. “There's a god nearby.”

Maybe that explained the discomfort. It was not so different from when I'd felt the Furies approach. I started to sweat, and the hair on my neck and arms lifted in warning.

The words had barely left Pollux's mouth when Achilles and Hector began flinging the boulders from the cave. The three of us left acted quickly, joining them in clearing the way.

It didn't take long, but each second was a lifetime.

“Hurry,” Achilles prompted. “If we're fast enough...” He didn't have to finish. I filled in the rest.

We could help Leo.

We could kill Athena or whichever god was in there.

We could end all of this.

The stone scraped the skin off my fingers, leaving bloody prints behind. I kept going, flinging away layer after layer, until a cold rush of moldy, stagnant air raced out of the cave.

There was no making a plan. We ran inside, under the carving of Medusa, and away from the sunlight.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly, but my mind didn't catch up as fast. It took too long for me to interpret what I saw. It was just statues, figures I'd seen a thousand times in museums or cities across Europe.

The faces were different, though. Some had wide eyes. Mouths open in a scream. Swords raised above heads, shields held across chests.

These were no statues. These were men. Some were soldiers, others—something else. There were a few whose faces were not afraid, and it was those who made me pause.

The narrowed eyes and half smiles.

Whatever plans these men had made for Medusa, I was glad they were dead, and she was alive.

Next to me, Paris's arm shot out to hit the stone hard enough it rocked back and toppled to the ground. The smash was dull against the dirt floor, but too loud for what we were doing.

Hector grabbed Paris's shirt, pulling him close. “What the hell?”

I was caught between being glad he'd smashed the stone figure of that man into a million pieces, and angry he might have given away our approach.

Next to me, the man's stone face stared up at me. Smirked at me.

Without giving it a second thought, I lifted my foot and slammed my boot into it.

“You didn't see it,” I whispered to Hector, an action that was probably wasted. My whisper was nowhere near as loud as shattering the statue had been.

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