4
THE ELDEST HEIR
AUGUSTUS: TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER, ASSEMBLY OF DEATH UNOFFICIAL OUTPOST, SIBERIA
Silently, I slipped around the corner and crept forward.
Poco was asleep, his chubby raccoon arms wrapped tightly around my calf.
“I found her unconscious in an alcove in the dungeon beneath our palace at Crete,” Hades said as he paced outside the medic room. “She jumped from Montana to Greece while injured … She’s lucky she’s not in a coma.”
He was speaking to Ares—my father.
The jagged scar across Ares’s mouth pulled tight as he listened to Hades,
red rings flaring around his eyes.
Memories of torture played.
Every member of the House of War had a facial scar—he demanded it.
Lights flickered and there was a loud sputtering as the generator struggled to sustain power.
As I crept through the shadows, all three of Cerberus’s heads turned to me.
Animals could sense the Chthonic power in my eyes, and their instincts warned them I was a predator not to be messed with.
Unaware of his protector’s stand-off, Hades leaned closer to Ares. “Thank Kronos I found Alexis when I did.”
“Yes,” Ares said like he was carefully choosing each word. “It’s a good
thing … you were the one to find her.”
Pain pierced my skull.
Migraines from the strength of my Chthonic abilities had plagued me all my life, but they were sharper now. Ever since the marriage bond, blood dripped from my eyes whenever I used my abilities or felt strong emotions.
My power had increased, in the most awful of ways—Kronos himself was
punishing me for trapping my wife.
Hades made a strange face.
Does he have a secret?
The door slammed open and a doctor rushed out, bright light flooding the hall.
On the doctor’s Olympian white coat was the ancient symbol of Spartan healing—the Rod of Asclepius—it was a glowing staff with a snake wrapped around it, framed with wings.
The wings represented creatures. A snake for Chthonics. Olympians were the rod.
The ancient symbol of life and death was splattered with unnaturally vibrant blood, which meant a Spartan was hemorrhaging, excessively.
My stomach sank.
The doctor bowed shakily to Hades. “I’m going to contact my colleagues and get her the newest Olympian paste,” she said in a rush. “For the damage.”
Hades nodded, and she leapt away.
Olympian research laboratories produced lifesaving medical products.
I stared down at the WSDL engraving on my gun.
Ares started the weapons company, formerly called Death Tools. He specialized in spiky spears nicknamed lizard killers; the slain flopped around on them before they died.
Ares refused to manufacture anything else, even though they didn’t perform well in modern times, so the other Chthonic leaders gave the business to me.
He’d never forgiven me for taking it over and renaming it WSDL, even though the inheritance laws were written in the company’s bylaws.
I rubbed at my facial scar, the one he gave me.
There was a loud creaking as the door to the sterile white medical room swung back and forth. Inside, two figures were hooked up to beeping machines.
Fuck.
Hermos had a thick cast wrapped around his head (Kharon’s handiwork).
Alexis was across from him lying on a gurney, covered head to toe in bandages—half of her face was swollen and bruised, a sickly shade of purple under the neon lights. Her strange protector lay with its head on its paws on the floor beside her bed.
She was shot and leapt three times. It’s all your fault.
I should have acted sooner. I should have stopped her, but I’d wanted to respect her autonomy.
No woman should ever be so heavily bandaged, and certainly not my woman.
She should be always guarded. Coddled. Pampered.
Your wife is injured under your fucking watch. You’re a Kronos damned disgrace of a man.
The pounding in my skull escalated as the door swung.
“What are you doing?” Hades’s voice echoed like a gunshot and Cerberus growled. “Only leaders are allowed here. You were told to wait in the rec room.”
Ares looked at me with disgust, then turned and left, leaving me alone with
the other leader.
Fuck you, Father.
Hades stepped in front of the door, blocking me from entering the medical
room.
I didn’t remember moving forward.
“Why does she look like … that?” My voice shook as I tried to look over his shoulder through the small glass window.
There was a loud sputtering. Everything went dark as the lights all went out at once.
The hall was pitch-black except for Cerberus’s six yellow eyes.
Hades took a step closer.
The generator groaned noisily and there was a whirring—sickly green lights flickered back on weakly, dimmer than before.
“She leapt multiple times with a bullet wound,” Hades spat. “She staggered around our cellar disoriented and collapsed face-first against rocks. Her body was so weak from leaping that she bruised easily.”
There was an unnatural tenor to his voice. He looked almost … guilty.
“I need to see her.” I stepped to the side to see past him.
Hades moved with me. “She doesn’t want to see you.”
Inky tendrils of fog poured off him in an insidious stream.
Hundreds of voices screamed—“You’re a killer. A monster. No one could ever care for someone like you.”
Every mind that I’d tortured—tortured me back.
Alexis’s soft voice was the loudest of them all. “I hate you. You violated me. I will never love you. You will never be my husband.”
The pounding in my skull reached a fever pitch and my right knee almost
gave out.
The voices shrieked louder.
“You’ve done enough damage to my daughter already.” Hades spoke my fears aloud.
His power wrapped around my neck in a noose—all warmth disappeared from the world—my breath came out in an icy cloud.
Frozen lips cracked as I parted them. “I need to be with her.”
It was getting harder to see.
“No—you need to leave her the fuck alone,” Hades said icily. “You’re a disgrace of a Spartan, and if it wasn’t for the bond between you and my precious daughter … I’d gut you right here.”
He shoved me across the hall.
CRACK. My head slammed against the wall—the pain added to my
delirium.
Cerberus barked.
“Leave,” Hades ordered. “Now.”
You need to get to her.
I opened my mouth to argue, but all that came out was a pained grunt.
Soon the migraine would progress, and I wouldn’t be able to see anything.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” I whispered. “I do care for her and—”
“Leave!” Hades roared.
High heels clicked across marble. “Hades?” Aphrodite called out from down the hall. “Unusual Titan presence has been sighted near Rome— Artemis has assigned you and Ares to investigate. Wait, Augustus—why the fuck aren’t you in the rec room with the others?”
“I’m heading there now,” I said hoarsely.
I waited for Hades to walk away first.
He didn’t.
“Leave,” Hades ordered, reading my intentions. “Now.”
I turned and staggered down the hall.
Ice nipped at my ankles as his power chased after me.
Usually, my migraines came with waves of numbness, but every bone in my body ached. Moaning with pain, disoriented and woozy, I bounced off walls.
A chattering noise broke through the anguish.
Something tugged at my pant leg.
I staggered to a stop and squinted down.
In the green haze, Poco tilted his black-and-gray face up like he was trying to tell me something.
He held up a little black hand, paw open expectantly.
“I don’t have any treats,” I croaked.
Poco bared his sharp teeth and shook his head. Then he held his black paw up higher, like he was waiting for something.
“No treats.” I grabbed my head.
He chittered louder, our bond heating with anxiety. Poco clasped his tiny
hands together, then held one up to me.
“Oh,” I whispered.
Tentatively, I bent over and gave him my pointer finger.
Poco clutched it, his miniature hand unable to wrap fully around it.
Gently Poco tugged me forward, balancing against me as he led the way on
two fluffy legs.
Moisture blurred my vision.
“Thank you.”
He chittered back.
Warmth flooded the bond between us.
No one understood why I bonded with a raccoon and not one of the class six beasts that lived in the back of the menagerie.
There were hundreds of different species in Sparta, but only a handful fell on the beast scale: class one to seven, with seven being the highest and most dangerous.
Class seven beasts were virtually extinct. Spartans were mandated to kill them on sight.
Titans and Typhons were the two most recent creatures to be labeled as class seven.
Most Chthonics bonded with class five or six creatures in the menagerie: Nemean land mammals, the violent winged Pegasuses, the three-headed dog
cousins of Cerberus, or the invisible dragons that nested in the secret caves.
None of those animals were of any interest to me.
It was the little guy hanging from a tree, who held out his arms for a hug with a bashful smile on his face, that did it for me.
Poco wasn’t ranked, but I didn’t care.
He was perfect how he was.
Now Poco looked up at me with worry as he slowly guided me down the halls. His little black fingers squeezed mine tightly, as if he was worried he’d lose me.
Raccoons were fierce, intelligent, loyal creatures.
After a lifetime of Ares coldly lecturing me on power and honor, animals growling and running away, and Chthonics reminding me of my responsibilities, it was wonderful to have a true companion.
Poco didn’t care that I was the eldest Chthonic heir.
Strangely, he was one of the few animals I’d ever met that wasn’t afraid of me.
He just wanted to cuddle and play with my hair.
Years ago, when it all got burned off from Colchian dragon fire, Poco had cried and refused to leave my bed for a week as he scratched at my skull, in what I’m pretty sure was Earth’s first case of raccoon depression.
I’d grown my hair out ever since; I kept it long for him.
He was everything to me.
I’d slaughter anyone who dared try to hurt him.
Poco chirped and tugged at my hand.
I staggered to a stop in front of a familiar metal door with a dagger carved into it. Before I could reach for the handle, the hall once again plunged into
darkness.
Silence descended.
The hair on the back of my neck prickled.
When the generator surged it usually made noises, but there were none.
Poco let out a nervous screech.
Sirens erupted. “Emergency … Emergency … Emergency.” A monotone voice crackled over the hall speakers as it repeated the warning.
Piercing pain stabbed my skull. I doubled over at the onslaught.
Poco climbed up my body, his fur pressed against the back of my head as he hugged me from behind—I blinked with confusion.
It took me a second.
Poco was covering both of my ears with his little hands and trying to protect me from the piercing sounds.
The generator whirred and the overhead lights turned back on, but they
weren’t green.
They were neon red.
Vibrant crimson lights flashed as the sirens continued to blare.
With Poco still covering my ears, I shoved my shoulder into the heavy metal door and staggered straight into a body.
“Did you see her?” Kharon asked frantically as he steadied me. “Is she okay? What happened? Did the leaders catch you? Why’s the emergency
system going off?”
“No,” I whispered as I pushed him away.
Kharon followed me. “No—to what?” he asked. His hellhounds watched us from the corner, their bony bodies flickering into existence, then disappearing.
Kharon’s powers were also getting stronger because of our marriage bond.
“You’re bad for Alexis,” Patro taunted. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “All you two do is hurt her.”
Kharon turned to him with a growl; Patro met his anger with a smirk.
I threw myself headfirst onto the worn couch and groaned with misery.
In my peripheral vision, Drex sat on the other side with wide eyes. An ugly bird flew above his head in small circles.
Poco repositioned himself into a fuzzy lump on my chest.
“Did you see Hermos?” Agatha asked as she stood up from where she was sitting on the floor. She stalked across the room and got in my face.
Poco hissed and tried to bite her.
She jumped back out of his reach.
“Hermos is in a … coma,” I croaked, fighting through nausea. “Head all wrapped.”
“Screw you,” Agatha said as she whirled around and pointed a finger accusingly at Kharon. “You just had to fucking shoot him.”
“He’s lucky he’s still alive,” he said dismissively.
Agatha snarled.
Kharon pushed past her. “How is Alexis? Is she … okay?” he asked me
softly.
I shook my head no.
“Of course she’s not okay,” Patro sneered from where he was still leaning
against the far wall. “She’s married to you.”
Grunts echoed as Kharon threw himself at Patro and they wrestled.
Tiny black fingers covered my ears.
At the end of the couch, Drex muttered what sounded like a prayer to Jesus? He’s not going to help you here. This is Sparta.
Poco forgot what he was doing and started playing with my earlobe. He
stuck a tiny finger deep into my ear.
Crack.
I peeked open my eyes.
Achilles materialized in the middle of the room in a cloud of smoke, with Poppae and Nero crouched at his feet.
Kharon and Patro had pulled apart, both looking guilty, like they were trying to hide the fact that they were fighting from Achilles.
Achilles signed something rapidly to Patro and handed him a scroll.
As Patro read it, Achilles threw himself down on the couch beside me, rubbing at his temples like he was exhausted.
An unlit cigarette hung between the grates of his muzzle.
Drex whimpered with fear on the other side of the couch, and we rolled our eyes, sharing a long-suffering look—this new Olympian boy isn’t going to
last a week in the Assembly of Death.
I stiffened.
“Stay away from Alexis,” I whispered. As my half brother who also grew up in the House of Ares, I’d always considered him my closest family next to Helen.
Red eyes flashed as Achilles arched a brow mockingly.
I reached for my gun holster.
He mimicked the gesture.
He’s not family anymore.
Poco hissed at Achilles, then he pointed his tiny finger and mimed shooting at him. Kharon had spent the last months teaching him the gesture.
Nero prowled over to the couch with a low growl.
I glanced at the wolf.
It tucked its tail and slunk away.
“EVERYONE!” Patro shouted as he waved a yellow scroll through the neon-red air. “Medusa … escaped from the Underworld.” His voice shook like he’d seen a ghost. “She murdered two Olympians—two immortals.”
The sirens seemed to wail louder.
Patro flipped it around for all to see.
The entire page was a picture of Medusa. Pale and small-boned, her eyes looked much too large for her head. Covered in blood and dirt, she stared blankly from behind prison bars.
Patro read the headline, “Manhunt mobilized because monstrous Medusa is rampaging again, two Olympians dead: Is she now coming for the Chthonics
who locked her up?”
I rolled my eyes.
Agatha laughed.
“Why aren’t you panicking? What the fuck is wrong with you people?”
Patro pointed the scroll at me accusingly. “Now the disgusting Gorgon is going to come after all of us … She should have just fucking died. Snake scum.”
Agatha stepped forward. “Do you have a problem with Gorgons, Patro?” she asked. “Because that sounded like a slur.”
Patro sneered. “Yeah, maybe I do … They’re violent dark creatures who can’t figure out how to fucking act right. They’re more like animals than—”
“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you.” Agatha cut him off, razor- sharp teeth glinting in her mouth as the skin on her face started to peel away,
revealing a monstrous visage.
She opened her maw wider.
In a blur, Achilles moved across the room and stood in front of Patro protectively.
He leaned forward like he was also baring his teeth behind his muzzle; the smoking end of his cigarette matched his eyes.
Flashing crimson lights bathed all of them in shadows as the emergency warning continued blaring.
“They don’t fear her because she’s part Gorgon,” I said.
Everyone turned toward me.
I spoke slowly, “Recessive traits … can be expressed when Spartans breed with creatures … That’s why it doesn’t often happen.”
“What are you talking about?” Patro asked with narrowed eyes.
“There are strange ancestors in the Artemis line,” I said quietly, not looking at Kharon across the room. “Medusa wasn’t born with Chthonic powers—she’s a Gorgon, born with the power of Fate.”
Patro gasped, and the scroll clattered as it dropped from his fingers.
“That’s why everyone fears Medusa?” he asked with disbelief.
Drex whimpered.
Patro’s face contorted with disgust. “She’s a fucking monster.” He shivered dramatically. “Snake scum with the power of Fate. She shouldn’t exist.”
Agatha rolled her eyes and sat down primly on the couch. “You’re such a bigot.”
“Oh please,” Patro said. “We’re all thinking it.”
Kharon stared blankly at the wall.
Medusa was his sister.
Poco clambered up my chest, whiskers prickling my cheek as he licked at my eyebrows.
“Thanks, buddy,” I whispered, not really sure if he was helping or making it worse.
He purred and pulled out a chunk of my eyebrow.
Definitely worse.
Kharon picked up The Falcon Chronicles and sat down next to me on the couch. He unrolled to the next story.
“Interesting,” Kharon said as he read. “An Olympian doctor has successfully stitched human body parts onto a Spartan.”
I grunted, not really that surprised.
Spartan physiology was adept at transmutation.
We could regenerate soft tissues like brains, eyes, and organs. But we couldn’t regrow missing hard tissues—bones and cartilage. If a bone was badly fractured, it would heal with time because most of the pieces were still intact.
As a result, we couldn’t regrow missing appendages, but our bodies could accept other people’s.
Immortal biology was nothing if not fucked up.
Thousands of years ago, it was even a tradition for lower-ranked Spartan soldiers to slice off their fingers, hands, feet, and sometimes entire legs.
They’d stitch them onto higher-ranked Spartans who’d lost appendages in battle.
It used to be the ultimate sign of respect and honor, but the practice was
now considered barbaric.
For good reason.
Poco chittered, clapping his hands to get Kharon’s attention.
Kharon put the scroll down, then pivoted. “Pow,” he said as he pretended
to shoot Poco with a finger gun.
There was a long pause as they stared at each other.
Poco slumped over like he was dead.
Three seconds later, he popped up and screamed, gray fur sticking out in all directions, as he aimed two finger guns back.
Kharon slumped back with his eyes closed, tongue out.
Poco chittered with excitement.
They high-fived each other, then proceeded to play the “shooting” game no
less than a dozen times.
I closed my eyes.
Sleep came quickly.
Bang.
I jolted awake when the door swung open. It felt like I’d been asleep for seconds, but the clock on the wall said it had been hours.
Artemis walked into the room.
The lights above hummed their usual green hue. It was quiet. Poco was draped over my head like a hat, snoring.
Achilles jolted awake where he was asleep next to me on the couch. Patro sat between his knees, still reading the scroll with a frown.
Kharon and Agatha were playing a game of chess on the floor. Drex was
cowering in the corner.
I rubbed at my bleary eyes.
Poco chittered on my shoulder and clapped his hands with excitement.
It took my tired brain a moment to process that Alexis was standing next to
Artemis.
My heart skipped a beat.
Her bandages had been removed, but dark bruises covered her face. She
looked tired and worn out.
We did this to her.
“Who do you choose for your first mission?” Artemis asked with clear impatience as she gestured to the members in the room. “Drex is with Agatha and Hermos, so choose either Augustus and his partner, or Achilles and Patro.”
Kharon stared at Alexis like he was trying to read her mind.
Patro perked up.
“I’ll choose—” Alexis’s voice was hoarse, and she scrunched up her face
like she was making a major decision. “Achilles and Patro.”
The pain that zapped through our bond was nothing compared to the twisting in my stomach.
Poco shoved a wad of my hair into his mouth.
“Fine,” Artemis said as she addressed the room with boredom. “The leaders have conferred—everyone will stay at Augustus’s villa until Medusa is captured.” She glanced over at me. “Engage the defenses. You have one week before your next Titan assignments,” Artemis said coldly.
Crack. She leapt away.
Patro smirked over at both of us, his arm draped over Achilles.
“Fuck,” Kharon swore.
Poco wailed at the top of his lungs, then bit down on my bicep, as hard as he could.
After he detached his dagger-sharp fangs, Poco licked at the wound, mewling with regret.
“Don’t worry about it,” I whispered as I patted his fluffy head, blood dripping down my arm. He suffered from anxious biting syndrome.
Poco whined, and I handed him a cookie from my pocket. He carefully took it with two hands.
“It’s not even bad,” I reassured Poco, looking anywhere but at Alexis. My heart shattered.
Poco chittered with relief as he licked at his treat.
I staunched the gushing wound and made a mental note—get stitches and a
tetanus shot.
Today was not my day.
