Now vitriol wafted off them in punishing waves, its intensity more biting than the icy wind. They were wrathful gods pretending to be men.
Run for your life, my inner voice screamed.
But I was done fleeing.
Straightening my spine, I matched their unnaturally stiff postures and pretended I wasn’t intimidated by the Chthonics.
Loaded armpit and thigh holsters stretched across their black T-shirts and cargo pants.
Spartan helmets sat atop their heads.
Ancient warriors dressed as modern killers, ready to induct a new cultist.
I was ready.
No, you’re not.
I ignored the voice of reason; there was no place for it here.
Rural Montana had prepared me for two things: selling my organs on the black market, and cult life. For some reason, dark times were a breeding ground for uncomfortable group participation in dangerous activities.
Nyx slithered under my toga. “It’s so cold, I want to die,” she hissed in an inspirational display of mental toughness.
Hades shifted beside me. Cerberus, stoic and calm, stood at his feet.
In contrast, Fluffy Jr. dug in the snow. Ears perking up, he bit the end of a stick, then gulped it down his throat.
Not now.
Everyone watched as my protector hacked.
Finally, just when I was about to intervene, he regurgitatedthe half-eaten piece of bark, and looked back at me with his tail wagging.
God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers.
I prayed for death.
A familiar scoff echoed.
I looked over, before I could remember why I shouldn’t.
Dear God.
The Devil had answered my prayer.
Ice-blue eyes met mine, and the temperature in the forest plummeted. Frostbite dug its frozen claws into my sternum.
Kharon’s lips curved up with a predatory promise.
“Furia” flashed, the tattoo stark across the front of his pale throat.
Dried blood was also smeared across his mouth; his nails were painted black; holsters stretched obscenely across powerful thighs and the chiseled lines of a cut torso; ink covered his right arm, shading his skin in an illusion of skeletal bones that mirrored what lay beneath the skin.
Time slowed.
“Honey,” he mouthed slowly, not a sound falling from his crimson stained lips. “I’mhome.”
My heart stopped beating.
