“Thank you, Achilles. Who else is on duty right now?” Zeus pushed away from the wall and strode purposely across the megaron. His harsh voice echoed ominously in the sudden hush of the room.
“Iros, Nicon, and Korax are waiting at the front.”
“Good.” Zeus moved past us, motioning for Achilles to follow. “Tell Nicon we need him to fight.”
Achilles started, his armor clanking. “It’s still raining, Archon.”
“You’re wearing fucking armor. Use it.”
Frowning, I followed them into the corridor, and by the sound of shuffling footsteps behind me, it seemed everyone else had the same idea. I needed to see what happened.
Soon we’d traversed the length of the corridor and clustered around the archway leading outside. It was a deep, impenetrable darkness tonight, only interrupted by the occasional flash of lightning. The rain fell in heavy sheets, and the sound of it was a steady, building roar.
Several empty wooden chairs were clustered near the entrance, far back enough to avoid the puddle oozing across the marble entryway. The guards were on their feet now, silently staring out into the night.
Another howl cut through the noise of the storm. Someone clutched my arm. I turned to find Dion behind me, his face deathly pale and a startling contrast to his long, dark hair.
“I don’t want to die, Selene,” he whispered.
A flash of guilt went through me. The lycanthrope’s arrival felt like a gift from Gaia herself, but he wouldn’t see Dion as any different than Poseidon. And the last thing I wanted was for him to get hurt. I wrapped my hand around his fingers, giving him a squeeze.
“It’ll be okay,” I said softly. “It’s one wolf against well over a dozen vampires, if we include the guards.”
He nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.
Up ahead, Achilles murmured something to one of the other guards. The one named Nicon, I was guessing. There was a clear flinch when he heard his orders, but I didn’t pick up any verbal objection. Then the armored vampire turned to the Archon and bowed.
Zeus, clearly satisfied, grabbed the back of a chair, dragged it toward him, and plonked down on the wood. “All right. Let’s get this over with. Go out there and kill the bloody beast.”
The guard took Athena’s offered broadsword and murmured his respectful thanks. With a grunt, he lifted it into the air and began a slow trek through the archway. His every step rattled, the steel as loud as thunder. My heart pounded as I watched, my hand pressed to my throat. From here, it was impossible to see any movement outside, and I doubted he would fare much better with the helmet blocking most of his sight.
Nicon’s boots hit the edge of the first step, then carefully—almost reverently—he eased out into the rain. For a moment, we collectively held our breaths, but nothing appeared to happen. He merely stood there with the rain drumming his steel suit. There was no sign of the lycanthrope anywhere, but I knew he must be close. He would have scented all of us near the entrance, if anything.
A horde of vampires, ripe for the killing.
Nicon continued down the steps, and a snarl suddenly curled from the darkness. The guard froze, whipping his head to the side.
“Do you see it?” his muffled voice called out.
Zeus leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees. He looked relaxed, like the outcome of Nicon’s quest meant nothing to him. But I knew he must be worried.
“No, but I’m sure it sees you,” Zeus answered.
The guard tensed. From somewhere nearby, athumpsounded, followed by another snarl. This time, it was much louder, and the guard swung his sword through the empty air, clearly too frightened to think.
The sword’s tip hit the marble, and the guard suddenly smacked his hand against his helmet. “Some of the rain’s getting in!”
Zeus frowned. “Then hurry up and kill the beast.”
“What? Archon, no. You can’t mean that.” Nicon spun around and stumbled toward us.
Before he made it halfway up the steps, the lycanthrope launched from the darkness, spraying rain across the marble. Several of the Olympians darted back, but I remained where I was, forcing myself to watch. The beast curled its claws around Nicon’s faceplate and ripped it off his head.
“Oh, god,” Dion muttered from behind me. “That thing is going to rip him to shreds. Someone needs to do something.”
Zeus, hearing Dionysos’s words, held up his hand. “No, everyone must stay where they are. That includes you, Achilles.”
Achilles had yet to don his helmet, so his furious, conflicted expression was fully on display. At some point, he’d drawn his weapon, and he looked ready to dash into the rain to save his compatriot. Two against one would better the odds, but Nicon couldn’t even move, let alone fight.
