I glance at the door. Atalanta was beautiful in motion. Like Death herself. I can see why Hecate likes her…maybe loves her. In all my files on the Thirteen and the legacy families and their high-ranking employees, there wasn’t a single link between Hecate and Atalanta. They both attended Minos’s party and dozens of ones in Dodona Tower over the years, but so did plenty of other people. I had no reason to believe they might be lovers.
I’ve hardly been celibate since leaving Olympus. Hecate certainly hasn’t. And why would she? Being loyal to a dead woman is foolish in the extreme. Hecate may be idealistic to a suicidal degree, but she’s not a fool. She’s too damned full of life to cut off large swaths of herself.
If she and Atalantaaren’tmerely lovers but more…
I don’t like the guilt that threatens to rise in my heaving lungs. I made no promises. Hecate can’t hold it against me if someone she loves dies at my hand. “Right,” I mutter. “Because that logic has worked so well in the past.” Maybe I didn’t nick a lung. The placement was high enough that Atalanta could easily live. If she did… I move quickly down the hall and curse when I don’t see anyone. This place was filled to the brim with people only an hour ago, and now it might as well be deserted.
It takes five long minutes to find a pair of soldiers patrolling. Amytis is a new recruit, a woman with light-brown skin and long, straight brown hair who wanted to escape her controlling family on Aeaea. Noe fell in with me the first month after I arrived on the island, a street kid with the kind of ambition that would have seenher dead if I hadn’t taken her under my wing. She’s got pale skin and black curls that she keeps short to leave her sharp features in stark relief.
It’s Noe who notices the blood on my clothes first. Her brown eyes go wide. “What happened? Do you need medical attention?”
“I’m fine.” The aches are starting to set in. I need to bandage up my cuts before I bleed all over this damned campus. “There’s a woman in Classroom 7B. It’s down the hall, take two rights and a left.” I hesitate, but finally say, “If she’s still alive, give her medical attention immediately and ensure she’s secured.”
They rush off to obey my orders, which should be the time I seek out an update from Antigone. I still need sleep, but my adrenaline is soaring too high for it to be a possibility now. Starting this coup with the execution of a nearly universally hated person is all well and good, but the mob craves the blood of those it designates as its prey. If I don’t feed it, I run the risk of becoming prey myself. We need to buy time for the lower city team to find the machinery to bring down the remaining barrier.
“Circe.”
I spin on my heel to find Amytis and Noe standing there. I frown. “What are you doing? Go see to Atalanta.”
They exchange a glance. Once again, Noe takes the lead. “We went to the classroom. There was a lot of blood. But, Circe…” I know what she’s going to say even as her lips form the words. “It was empty.”
That sneaky little assassin. I would admire her if I didn’t want to hunt her down and wring her neck. No, that’s a lie. Idoadmire her despite the wrench she just threw into my plans. She played up her injury so I’d leave. It was a risky move, but clearly she wanted…
I suck in a breath. “Hecate.”
12Hermes
Circe outplayed me. Again. I’ve been running circles around the Thirteen and the legacy families for so long that I’ve lost my edge. It’s something I never would have thought possible, but here I am…trying to move my feet.
I glare at my boots. “Come on, feet.” At least I have access to my mouth and tongue again. The rest of my body is coming online much more slowly. If I have even a chance at escaping, I need to be able to move. And, you know, maybe not fall face-first into Circe’s mouth the first chance I get.
After the last time she kissed me and drugged me, I really should know better, but my brain goes a bit fuzzy around her. Or maybe she’s got some kind of pheromone perfume that drops my IQdramatically every time I get within touching distance.
Or, damn it, maybe I never stopped loving her. It’s inconvenient in the extreme. The only way forward is to put as much distance between us as possible. With the threat she offers, I have decent leverage to convince the Thirteen to actually leave Olympus, but I can only do that if I’m free.
A thump on the other side of the door brings my head up—hey, I couldn’t do that a few minutes ago—but the movement shifts my body just enough that I overbalance and do a slow, pathetic slide down to a prone position. “Fuck,” I say against the fabric of the couch.
I hear the door open, but I can’t see who just walked into the room from my current position. I can’t see much of anything but the awful pattern of this couch. It had to have been donated to the university because the original owner bought it in a drug-fueled haze. It’s the only explanation why someone would own such a horrid creation.
A soft inhale. “Damn it, Hermes.”
I blink. Surely I’m hearing things. I must be because there’s no feasible way Atalanta would be in this room with me. Except itisher. I know those strong hands that find my shoulders and haul me up into a sitting position. I know that scarred face, perpetually pinched in concern for my reckless decisions.
What Idon’trecognize is the fucking knife sticking out of her upper chest. I lurch forward, tipping again, and she has to slam a hand into my shoulder to keep me in place. “Who?” I snarl.
“Your girlfriend isn’t just a pretty face.” Her complexion is waxy, but at least she’s still on her feet. “She missed hitting anything vital or I’d already be dead. We have to go.”
“I can’t.”
Atalanta glares. “I did not infiltrate this fucking warren of a building, fight your sorta-ex, and getstabbedfor you to tell me you’re staying here. Get the fuck up so we can get out of here.”
“Ican’t.” I blink a few times. “Circe dosed me with a paralytic. I’m getting feeling back in my body, but it’s coming too slowly to be helpful for this escape.”
Atalanta huffs out a strained laugh. “Absolutely nothing about this has gone according to plan, so why would we start now?” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. We’re leaving.”
I don’t miss the way she moves stiffly as she bends down to yank my arm over her shoulders. She’s hurt, and hurt bad if she’s showing any evidence of the injury. Which, of course, I already knew becauseshe has a knife in her chest. “Go without me.”
“Shut up.”
