Chapter Nine
Lucifer's palace was nothing if not impeccable. The architecture itself was a design that oozed royalty and elegance. I wasn't even entirely sure what the design was, but the white marble and gold inlays were certainly an testament to his money and status, and the fact that the palace overlooked the entire city like a giant eye in the sky only further asserted his power and dominance over the place.
My teleportation only took me as far as the front gates that were heavily guarded by armored demon guards, both of whom glared at me and curled their lips as I went past the gates to walk the unfortunate mile of stair steps to the front door. I felt the air of softness and warmth Arikos had somehow gifted me with deflate from me, probably a good thing if I planned to face Hades. I had no time to deal with the god's petty attempt at a power play. His constant reminders that I wouldn't be here in this great body without him were his way of trying to make me grateful, but the god had no idea that I would've rather spent the rest of eternity rotting in Tartarus.
I entered the lavish large front doors with gold etchings of legends and Lucifer's fall. The doors opened into a rounded room of strange fake leather sofas -- what the hell was wrong with this time period where real leather was so offense-- and everything gleamed in a flurry of sterile cleanliness I was sure Clymene would envy.
My mother had always taken every chance she had to berate the rest of the family for being smelly swine.
She was living in a home with four other men. What did she expect? A spa?
I shook my head, scanning the room, unsure where to go. The air rippled and pulsed for a moment in front of me, however, making me grow tense. I shut down my expression, reverting to the staunch military persona I'd had beaten into me as a child. I watched a column of smoke spiral into the room from nowhere in particular, then vanished in a plume to reveal the Greek god of sarcasm and misery himself-- Hades.
A gigantic in every sense of the word, especially ego, Hades was well over seven feet tall and dressed in more black than a funeral procession and eerie blue eyes that glowed like a pair of animal's eyes in the dark. Suffice it to say, Hades had might quite a terrifying spectacle on the battlefield, even back when his eyes were filled with agony as he cut throat after throat. In the Titanomachy, Hades had been less willing to take a life. He'd only taken the lives of those who dared to threaten his siblings. I'd seen him cut a man's head clean off for making a remark about his sister, Hestia.
But that fearful light was gone now. His eyes were a cold menacing blue that spoke of a torture I didn't even want to consider. Then again with a brother like Zeus...
"We're in the meeting room," Hades said, then touched my shoulder, and my skin crawled as we teleported from the lobby to a large meeting hall that was located somewhere upstairs, judging from the tall windows that looked out over the Black Sea that separated this realm from Hades's.
The room itself was a long sterile room with a sleek glass table with several papers laid out on one side, and a strange floating transparent model of what appeared to be Atlantis and Olympus. Joining us in the meeting room was Hades's current lover, Lucifer.
Unlike Hades, who was the epitome of tall, dark, and gloom, Lucifer was a bright ray of light in the room with his entirely white leather outfit, wavy golden hair that currently fell over one shoulder while he leaned over the table, celestial blue eyes locked on the models in front of him until Hades appeared. Instantly, as if the angel was conditioned to do so, he looked up and straightened at the sight of Hades, and there was a strange softening in his ruggedly handsome features that spoke incredible lengths of his affections for the Greek god of the underworld.
Gross.
"Lea and Xenon will be here shortly with Xiphrus," Lucifer informed him, then paused to glance past Hades at me. His features hardened to the point his jaw ticced, but he said nothing as Hades brushed past him, once again grabbing his attention fully.
"Yeah, right," Hades said flippantly, leaning over the papers to grab a foam cup of hot coffee that was set on the table, "If they're coming back from another shopping trip, Lea's going to be in her room for hours." Lucifer was momentarily distracted by Hades's backside before his eyes drew up to the god's face, a face that was so deadpan it was almost comical.
"Oh," Lucifer said a second, then cleared his throat as he went to the table to pick up some of the files, straightening them as if he had business on the mind that had nothing to do with the fact that he was staring at Hades's ass like a hungry lion, "No, I think Lea was getting settled into her old room in the palace. She's wary about staying in Atlantis after Atlan's break in."
"So she thinks Hell is safer," Hades scoffed as if the idea were foolish, and Lucifer gave him a pointed glare, "What? Don't look at me like that. If Atlan can break into Olympus, Atlantis, and my realm, why not Hell? What makes your place so special?" Lucifer appeared to be biting his tongue on a response and Hades only arched his brow further as if he were daring Lucifer to say it. Instead, Lucifer looked down at his papers.
"We'll discuss it later. Right now, we have to discuss what St. John informed Hannibal and the Olympian gods," he explained, glancing at me for a moment. I frowned. Was this what Hannibal refused to tell me and Arikos? What Akin kept telling Hannibal to tell us? I almost rolled my eyes when I realized it had something to do with the whole Key, Lock, hybrids rule the world thing.
I really wish these people would leave me out of their goddamn drama. I had nothing to do with Atlantis and never had. My parents were Greek, and so was the rest of my bloodline. The only thing that connected me to Atlantis was Hannibal, and even then, Hannibal was just my half-brother. We shared a father, not a mother-- thank god for that. Lea's fussing over Hannibal drove me nuts. I had never seen a mother coddle her child as much as Lea did... especially when said child was a full grown monstrosity that dressed in more leather than the gangsters that hung out at the bar down the street from the apartment.
"Do we even know if he's telling the truth," Hades asked dryly, leaning one hand on the table and Lucifer made a noise of irritation, "What the fuck was that? Constipation? Feminine itching getting you down, Lucy?"
"Okay, shut up," Lucifer said testily, "The noise stems from your perpetual harassment of my friend. Yes, yes, I realize you both hate each other and that's just fine and dandy-- trust me, the feeling is entirely mutual when it comes to Zeus and I, yet here I am, not attacking Zeus like you told me to. Now if you could show me the same courtesy with St. John, I would truly appreciate it."
"Would you?" Hades mused. Lucifer passed him a dry stare. I grimaced.
"If you're done acting like a married couple, may I be excused?" I asked.
"No," they said in unison, then paused to look at each other suspiciously. I rolled my eyes and looked away just in time for the room to pulse. I looked around until I noticed a white lump sitting in one of the leather chairs around the table. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a large albino snake, and it was sliding up onto the table, and a second later it spiraled into a cloud of smoke to reveal St. John sitting on the edge of the table, wearing his long white hair swept to the side, covering most of the left half of his face, his pinkish-red eyes deep pools of wisdom and hatred I could appreciate. He wore a long sleeved navy top with a loose scarf around his neck, and black jeans that ended with ankle boots. Something about the demon was incredibly feminine, pretty even, to the point where it made my body tingle... and I hated it.
"Have you been there the whole time?" Lucifer asked uncomfortably, glancing at Hades, who rolled his eyes and shook his head. St. John looked up from his fingernails to pin Lucifer with a droll stare.
"Unfortunately," he replied dryly. Lucifer wiped a hand down his face, then leaned on the table to look at the demon, who went back to admiring his perfectly manicured nails.
"Are the others on their way?" He asked. St. John cocked his head, as if listening to something the rest of us couldn't hear before he inclined his head. A second later, the doors to the meeting room opened to admit the final guests to what I expected to be a long and painful meeting.
Lea was the first to enter, and it continued to unnerve me how much Hannibal favored her in looks. I had always thought he looked more like Iapetus, but upon seeing Lea, it was clear Hannibal had gotten everything from Lea-- even right down to the way she furrowed her brow and wrinkled her nose whenever she was confused or annoyed. Her long midnight black hair was a cascading waterfall of thick loose curls that she wore in a Grecian bun, clear blue eyes doing a quick survey of the room before landing on me, and instantly those eyes became daggers.
Damn. If looks could kill, I'd be a stain on the floor.
Aw. She even shares Hannibal's immense hatred of me. How sweet.
Behind her came her nephew, Hannibal's other cousin, Xenon. A Khalian like Anexius, Xenon was nearly as tall as Hades, with long black hair streaked with bright red that he wore swept back from his face, a pair of opaque sunglasses obscuring his white eyes. He was swathed in black leather from head to toe, with silver hoops pierced into his left ear and a steel ball piercing his left nostril. If ever there was a presence that said fuck off and die, it was Xenon's.
The last person to enter was St. John's brother, Xiphrus. The moment he stepped foot in the room, people became uncomfortable. It was more than just the fact that Xiphrus seemed to have a disturbing effect on the body-- It was the way St. John's temper crackled through the air like a menacing lightening storm. And here I'd thought Hannibal hated me. Watching the way St. John slide a cold icy stare at his brother spoke incredible lengths of his hatred.
Unlike St. John, who almost entirely lacked pigment in his skin and hair to the point where they were white and pale, like the freshly fallen snow outside, Xiphrus's skin was a deep rich caramel with dull blue swirling tattoos that went up his arms, chest, and around his neck to the left side of his face, a face that was ruggedly chiseled to achieve ultimate masculinity, and his ever-changing eyes passed St. John a long stare void of emotions.
It made sense; according to legend, Xiphrus had been imprisoned after he'd gone on a rampage at he beginning of time, per Atlan's orders. Unable to resist Atlan's allure, Xiphrus had fallen for him completely and Atlan had twisted that love to force Xiphrus to do his bidding. In order to save the universe, St. John and his sister, Geara, banded together and sealed away his emotions to prevent him from ever falling in love again. It was quite sad, really.
"Why is he here?" Lea asked, casting me a glare out the corner of her eye, arms folded over her chest.
"Good question," I replied flatly. She gave me a curious stare, and Hades pushed off the table, setting his coffee aside.
"Nothing gets a Greek outta bed in the morning like chaos and bloodshed," he told her, making her snort, as if he were making a reference to an inside joke between them, "And before you think about ripping the Titan's intestines out with your freshly manicured nails, you might want to remember how much you love your son and how much your son doesn't want the Titan dead." Lea pursed her lips, like she was considering his words before she sighed.
"Hades, what would I do without your words of wisdom?"
"Probably explode into a bazillion pieces or become enslaved to an Atlantean overlord, but who's keeping track?" Hades shrugged. Lea rolled her eyes and smiled, giving him a playful elbow in the ribs before she took a seat at the table. I grimaced. Of course two of the most vile creatures in the rom were friends. It seemed mutual hatred had a knack for bringing the worst people together.
"Besides," Hades continued, casting Lea an irritated glare when she took a sip of his coffee, "Killing him could result in the end of the universe and as much as I hate this place, it has a few good points." Lea arched a brow at that, then scowled as Hades took his coffee back and sat beside her.
I frowned, watching them until I felt a creepy feeling climb the back of my neck. I glanced around until I realized it was Xiphrus staring at me with an eerie pair of bright orange eyes, expression totally blank.
"He's supposed to be dead," he stated. I gave him a droll stare.
"That's what I keep telling people," I said. He shook his head, then turned to look at St. John, who rolled his eyes and looked up at him.
"He should be dead," Xiphrus told him.
"Yeah, but as you can see, it didn't work," St. John replied, making me frown and St. John turned to Lucifer, "You know, the hybrid may have had the right idea in not telling the Titan. If he decides last minute to switch sides, it won't bode well for us." Lucifer seemed to consider that, but Hades shook his head as he powered down the 3D models and set aside the papers.
"No," he said, "Menoetius has what a lot of people don't, and that's what's going to keep him from switching sides." I tensed in irritation. They were pretty much talking about me as if I wasn't even in the room. What was the point of being here if they weren't going to talk directly to me?
"Can we hurry this up? I have things to do, places to be," I said. People to kill. Hades cast me a quick glance that made me frown before he looked back down at the papers he held. Everyone converged on the table, taking their seats, and I took mine a safe distance from everyone else.
"Alright, here's a recap of recent events," Hades began, then tapped a few things on the glass table, making me frown in confusion until I realized there were transparent little buttons all over the table, as if the table itself were a giant computer, and suddenly several large transparent models of Atlantis, Hell, Hades, and Olympus, appeared above the table, "Atlan's managed to smash through Hell's front gates, but he didn't completely infiltrate the realm. The same goes for my realm. During his infiltration of Olympus just the other day, however, we learned that Atlan has been screwing around with us, tricking us into using up our magic on barriers around our realms, when the asshole is one of the few creatures on the planet that can bypass the barriers due to the fact that he's a First."
First being those who leapt from the Source in the beginning of time. Of that group, as far as we knew, included St. John, Xiphrus, and Atlan.
"Due to that unnecessary, but severely damaging stupidity," Hades continued, "Most of us aren't running on full power. Atlan knows this and he's going to take his chance to make his next move in the coming weeks, hell, even days. Fuck, I wouldn't be surprised if he fell in through the ceiling right now. To make matters worse, while we're scrambling to try and stay on our raft in the middle of this shitstorm, Atlan's been getting a leg up every time. He's converting people to his cause left and right and now he's got a spell that can wipe a god from existence without disrupting the Source."
"And whose fault was that?" St. John asked, passing Hades a pointed glare. Hades's jaw clenched tight for a moment before his eyes darted back to the models above the table. Lucifer cut St. John a stern glare.
"That's enough," he said impatiently, "If Hades hadn't invented the spell in the first place, we would still be crushed under the thumbs of Rhea and Cronus." St. John's eyes went up to glare at the ceiling as if he were praying to some higher deity, which in his case was probably the Source itself, before he leaned back in his seat. Lucifer turned to Hades, who took a deep breath.
"Yeah," he said at last, glancing at St. John, "My bad. Next time I'm thinking about saving the world, I'll remember the supposedly dead Atlanteans and consider my options. Anyway, we know that Atlan's plan is to get a hold of his playing pieces, which would be the hybrids, Xiphrus, and Menoetius." I scowled at that.
"Why me? Granted I'm a Greek and that probably offends his all great assholery, but--"
"You're the Key to Atlantis," Lucifer reminded. I snorted, rolling my eyes before wiping a hand down my face.
"Okay, do we even have any proof that this is a thing? Why not Anexius? Or Arikos? They're both Atlantean. The only thing that connects me to Atlantis is Hannibal, and that's not even by blood." I reminded dryly.
"We have the proof we need," St. John replied, making me scowl, "Trust me." I shook my head.
"Even if that's the case, and I still don't believe a word you guys are saying, what am I supposed to do aside from read from a giant ball? So Atlan gets me and wants me to read a ball. No, thanks, done." I held my hands up and I noticed Xiphrus's eyes turn a deep shade of blue as he glanced at me, then stared at the table. St. John stared across the table at him, slowly clenching his fist against the glass before he cast me a glare.
"The Key's job is far more than reading the Orb. That's just one of the many powers the Key was given when it came into existence. Unfortunately, our thinking was that you would remain dead," he said, then paused to look at Hades, who tsked and rolled his eyes. Lucifer grimaced. I laughed bitterly.
"You think I wasn't thinking the same thing? I liked my cell back in Tartarus. In fact, you can take your piece of shit body back and give me my cell. Boom, problem solved," I replied, sitting back in my seat with my arms folded over my chest. Hades appeared to consider it, until St. John shot me a cold stare.
"If you die, the entire universe will implode on itself and we're all dead," he stated. I stared at him, and so did everyone else. There was a short silence before Xenon spoke.
"That doesn't make any sense, he's already died. What's the difference should he die again?" He asked. St. John passed Xenon a withering stare.
"He didn't technically die last time. Oh sure, his vessel was destroyed, thanks to dear ol' Zeusy, but his soul was still intact. If he dies again, the trauma it'll cause his soul could cause it to become completely destroyed. Worst case scenario, the Source loses a piece of its own soul and begins to wither away. No Source, no anything," he explained. Xenon sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth and Hades muttered a curse.
What.
No. That was impossible. It didn't make any sense.
"No," I said slowly, "I'm not your Key thing. I'm not Source born. I was born to Clymene and Iapetus. I was brought back just so I could help Hannibal get rid of Atlan. He needed someone who's handled his rampages before, and I was the only one dumb enough to tackle him whenever he did go crazy." I left out the part where I planned to kill myself and get to Tartarus where I belonged once this whole fiasco was finished. However, the dire looks on everyone's faces clearly stated that my hopeful wishes were once again being crushed into the dirt.
I felt like I was going to vomit, but I couldn't muster it up, so I sat there, feeling cold and numb.
This can't be.
"I'm Greek," I said hollowly. St. John eyed me for a moment, like he was waiting for me to go on a homicidal rampage.
"Yeah," he answered slowly, "Mostly. I mean, you were born in Greece, so yeah. It's the perfect Key to Atlantis. What better Key than a Greek, Atlan's least favorite race? He'd sooner choke on his own tongue than capture you and use you."
"Use me for what?" I asked, confused. That didn't make any sense. That part confused the hell out of me, and St. John sighed in frustration. He raked a hand through his hair, tossing it back from his face before he looked at me.
"Hannibal avoided telling you this whole time, and it honestly doesn't surprise me. He was taking a precaution in doing so, but that precaution is now void since Atlan seems to already know you're the key... As the Key to Atlantis, you were created for the sole purpose of helping Atlan take over the universe. You're destined to be the Key that unlocks the darkest powers of the Source, including all its monsters and demons, and you are the Key that unlocks the power of premonition from the Orb. Your entire purpose is to capture the hybrids and Xiphrus and lead Atlan to victory."
Now I really wanted to puke, but my body felt too frozen to do anything. I stared at St. John, who stared back at me. Lucifer looked concerned, and my guess came from the fact that he didn't know the full extent of my purpose. Now that he knew, he had a family to think about, a lover, an entire realm, followers. All of these people had those things.
This isn't happening. I was having another nightmare. I didn't have time to get drunk before bed. Something happened to knock me out. I was being drugged again. All of those sounded way more realistic than accepting all of this as truth.
"I... don't understand," I managed at last. St. John nodded as if he completely understood.
Yeah, fucking right. He had no idea what it was like to be told that you were a weapon for mass destruction.
"Both sides were given a weapon to use against the other," St. John replied, "Hannibal was given Arikos. And Atlan was given you."
"What's Arikos do?" I asked numbly. St. John glanced at Lucifer, who raised an eyebrow. He sighed and wiped a hand down his face.
"Arikos is the Hybrid Key. He has the power to give everything Hannibal will need to fight Atlan. He shares similar powers to you, but his are currently muted thanks to the damage Atlan has already dealt him. To be honest, we're already losing and losing hard, because of the bad choices you've all made up until this point."
"How so?" Lea asked confused. St. John stared at her.
"Atlan damaged Arikos. Severely. He's been weakened from his time in captivity under Atlan's thumb, and his morals have been corrupted and his heart darkened. Right now, the only thing that can bring him back is to have his abilities fully unlocked, that way he can get right to helping Hannibal defeat Atlan. In the meantime, we cannot let Atlan get near Menoetius. From what we've observed, Atlan knows Menoetius is the Key, making this all the more dangerous."
"Why?" I asked. This still felt unreal. I had to be asleep.
You were born to help Atlan, not Hannibal.
But why? Since when? For how long? Was that why Hannibal hated me as much as he did? Was it just in his nature to hate the weapon of his enemy? Hannibal knew about this. He knew I was the Key and he knew what Atlan would want with me... All those times he bitched about protection... He wasn't protecting me. He was protecting everyone else. He didn't want to tell me because he thought I would go to Atlan myself, or worse, Atlan get a hold of me.
"Atlan will be gunning for you," St. John continued grimly, "Once he has you, his chances of getting the rest of his demented collection is almost guaranteed. He'll have the complete set. The Keys, Xiphrus, and of course, the guy who's supposed to overthrow him and take over the pantheon, Hannibal... Oh, and you can forget your little plan to off yourself, Menoetius." I stiffened, feeling extremely uncomfortable with the stares that locked on me in that moment, and St. John's pink eyes glowed, flashing a shade of gold, then pink again.
"If you try to kill yourself, you'll tip the scales and we're all dead. And while I'm sure our lives mean nothing to you, Hannibal's does. If you die, Hannibal dies." His words speared me through the chest like a barbed sword. It was more than just the fact that he was using Hannibal as a means to keeping me alive, but the fact that I couldn't escape this damned existence...
I was trapped.
Cornered. There was no where to go from here. If I died, everyone, including Hannibal, died. I was sucked into this battle deeper than I'd originally thought. And everyone else was expecting me to join Atlan, because that's what destiny preordained. That's why Hannibal didn't trust me enough to tell me everything; he thought I'd run off to join Atlan. He didn't trust me anymore than these people did. No one trusted me.
While that wasn't too surprising, the fact that Hannibal didn't trust me this much stuck like a sword in my heart. He really thought I'd join Atlan over him? After everything I've done for him? And yet, I still felt this deep insistence to protect him and that infuriated me.
Ever since Hannibal had come into my life, he's ruined everything. Because of him, Iapetus hated me. Because of him, Clymene hated me. Because of him, my brothers turned on me. If it hadn't been for him, I would've been a better son, a better god. I might've even defeated Zeus. Fuck, I wouldn't even have been stupid enough to think I could take him down. And right when I thought I'd finally gotten away from everything, Hannibal brought me back. It was Hannibal who plucked me out of my cell in Tartarus and threw me back into this mess.
He's ruined everything!
A headache throbbed in my temples, my blood heating to a point where it felt like my skin was going to melt off. That damned painful itching in my wrists that begged me to just cut until there was nothing left, but blood and bone.
And after everything you've done for him, he still doesn't trust you.
Zeus humiliated me, then killed me, and all because I thought I could save Hannibal and then what? Go off to some island paradise and live happily ever after? What the hell was I thinking? Hannibal never would've let me take him somewhere else. He'd sooner gut me than let me help him. In the end, all the choices I made had led me nowhere.
And now it was too late.
I didn't want to care. I didn't want to stay alive for the sake of everyone else. What should it matter? What had these people ever done for me? What had Hannibal ever done for me, aside from ruin everything I'd ever wanted?
And yet you do care. And I hated it.
"You know I won't do it," I said at last, making St. John glance at me, and I stared at him, watching his expression become a blank slate. He was almost as good as Xiphrus, who looked at me, like he wasn't sure he believed me, but I didn't care. I didn't need him to believe me. I didn't need anyone to believe me.
In the end, no matter how angry I was, no matter how much I wished the whole world would end, I wasn't sick enough to kill a bunch of innocent people because I was too selfish. It was why I had never accepted Rhea's offer. She was prepared to hand Hannibal over to me on a platter and I refused, because what was the point? Even if I did have Hannibal, he would never love me the way he loved Akin. The one thing in the world I wanted and I could never have it. And if Atlan thought for one second he could hold that over my head, he was stupider than I thought.
Menoetius, stop.
I froze at the foreign voice in my head, confused for a moment as I cast a quick glance around the room until my eyes fell on Hades, who was staring directly at me from across the table. I glared at him, trying to throw up a barrier between us to keep him out of my head, but it was like putting a sheet of tissue paper up. He tore right through it, cutting a vicious headache right through the center of my head.
Why bother? You don't have the kinds of powers to keep me out, not yet anyway.
Leave me alone, asshole. I've had enough of you fucking with my head. I know you've done something to me before. I threw back at him. Hades arched a brow, resting his hand on the table in front of him. I waited to see if anyone would notice the conversation going on between us, but they'd already returned to the meeting, discussing possibilities Atlan could throw at us in the next few days.
Yes, Hades said, making me frown at him, I did do something. Because Akin asked me to. He and the hybrid wanted to know who drugged you the other night. For your information, it was a Russian vampire feeding you some kind of drug. It pretty much paralyzed you, but you can still hear and see, and become sensitive to touch. It sounds to me like some kind of rape drug. You're lucky that security guard showed up when he did, otherwise, you'd still be flat on your back in an alley somewhere with anal hemorrhaging.
My skin crawled and I suddenly felt like I was going to vomit. I slammed my eyes shut, gritting my teeth and. I felt my stomach churn abruptly, but I managed to swallow the bile down.
Anyway, that's not what's important right now, Menoetius. Right now, you need to stop letting your thoughts get away from you. What you're thinking is exactly what Atlan wants. He wants you to turn against us, to question your loyalties, and to turn against Hannibal. Atlan won't use Hannibal to get you to do his bidding like Rhea did. Atlan is ten times smarter than she is and he will offer you what you want most in the world, and he will make you feel like he's the only one who can give it to you.
I tensed at his words. Of course he thought I'd turn against them. Why shouldn't I?
Because your loyalty is your strongest trait, Hades answered. I glared at him.
Save your bullshit lectures for your drunken bastard son, I shot back. Hades's blue eyes darkened.
Try again? He demanded. His words were a pulsing pain in my skull, but I blinked past it to continue glaring at him.
I know about Malachi's little alcoholism problem. The way he fled every time I got drunk to keep him out of my nightmares. You should be worried about him, because some day, he might not run away from me anymore and he'll find himself drowning at the bottom of a bottle of Egyptian whiskey.
Fuck you, Hades's voice thundered in my skull and I winced, reaching up to grasp forehead, but I managed to smirk at Hades, who appeared calm on the outside, but I could feel his fury in my temples.
Been there, done that, and I have the fucking t-shirt to prove it. Get out of my head, asshole. You don't have to worry about me defecting to Atlan. The bastard has done something to Hannibal that has added himself to my hit list. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than bathing in his blood and getting drunk off it... Heh, now that I think about it, you're actually more like your mother than Atlan is. It makes me sick.
Rhea offered me Hannibal in exchange for my allegiance. St. John had just thrown that same offer in my face.
I never offered the hybrid to you, Hades seethed. I had to stifle a laugh.
Yes. You fucking did. St. John just told me in plain words.
We're not offering--
Save it for someone who gives a shit. I don't care what you people think. I'm helping Hannibal against Atlan as much as I am able, without Atlan getting his grubby hands on me. In the meantime, you idiots think of a way to save Hannibal, because if something ever happens to him, you will lose me as a playing piece. After all, it's like you said, Hades... Loyalty is my forte and Hannibal, the worthless bastard that he is, has all my loyalty and will for eternity.
"I've got a dinner date," I said aloud, making everyone look at me, "You can continue your meeting without me since the only reason I was here was for you to threaten me into joining your army." I stood up, departing from the room, relieved no one made a move to stop me. They probably didn't care that I was leaving; it'd give them a chance to discuss what they'd do with me should I defect to the other side.
Hades and the rest of them could pretend they were nothing like Rhea, but in the end, they were just a bunch of selfish gods. Sooner or later, though, the Source fucked all of us and it was only a matter of time before they chose one of those assholes to be their bitch too.
Unfortunately, for now, I was their plaything.
I headed out into the lobby, pausing at the large clock that hung over the front desk that read it was only six. I had two hours before Arikos decided he wanted to go for dinner. I wasn't going to miss that, I'd made a promise, but I had one last errand to do before Hades realized that I wasn't going to sit still in Hannibal's apartment like a good little soldier.
I took my phone out and double checked the map Kristoff had sent me. I closed my eyes and teleported to the one street I recognized, one that was two blocks down from my intended location. I ducked my phone away, having memorized the other streets I was to take. I ducked into the alleys, finding that the closer I got to the whorehouse, the worse the city got. This was the part of Hell that truly had given the city its name.
Alleys went from sleek dark turns to slimy cesspools of shit and death and misery. Rotting garbage overflowing from trash shoots, cigarette smoke clouding up the air. The sound of loud music thumped through cheap brick and wallpaper walls, the sound of a woman shrieking somewhere in one of the buildings, a couple arguing, a baby wailing. The fresh white snow became a slushy black, brown mixture of filth. It was truly the definition of slum.
I moved into an alley across from the whorehouse, pausing to study the layout of the building.
A three story brick building with jagged white lettering that glowed in the cloudy darkness of the slums, reading Blingg, like the title from the map. Most of the windows were painted black to keep out the sun, not that I'm sure that was a problem considering it seemed the sun only shined on the other side of the city. Mounted above the front entrances and on the corners that looked both into the alleys and out onto the streets were black security cameras that shifted every so often to take in the full surrounding area.
I stepped back into the shadows to avoid being caught, frowning as I scanned for more cameras, but that appeared to be all on the outside in front... I retreated further into the alley until I could move down a couple more blocks before I crossed the street, avoiding the sleeping homeless folk. I ducked into the alley that would lead behind the whorehouse. I reached back to pull my hood up over my head, zipping my coat up and dipping my hands into my pockets. To add to the ruse, I dug around in an overstuffed trash shoot and managed to find an empty bottle of scotch before heading down the alleyway past the whorehouse's back entrance.
A large loading dock that was surrounded by barbed wire fencing, and a small back door that was surrounded by trash that reeked of rotting food. I grimaced at the stench, then glanced up, spotting a camera over the loading dock and two more above the door that were scanning the alley. I kept my head down, still watching out the corner of my eye as the camera followed me for a moment, then moved away to scan the other side of the alley.
I continued until I was another block away on the other side, pulling my hood back and tossing the bottle aside.
The place appeared to have pretty high security for a whorehouse. Something told me that Tiberius frequented this place enough so that the owner had become paranoid. If he were found aiding a sex slave trader, he'd probably be imprisoned. I wondered briefly if the prostitutes inside were bought and sold illegally... or if any of them were human. The thought made my stomach churn.
Surely the owner wouldn't be that stupid. Humans weren't very good at blending in with our kind. Someone would have noticed by now and spread the word... And yet, something told me I was going to be disgustingly surprised when I went inside to kill Tiberius.
But not today. As much as I wanted to feel the fleshy throat of that monster between my hands, I couldn't launch an attack, not with this much security. I'd have to plan around it, find a way to get past those cameras and into the building without setting off any alarms.
I stood where I was in the shadows of the alley, watching from a distance to see if anyone would leave through the back door. Once, a man came out with a tub of slimy food that he tossed out onto the stone ground of the alley, and a second time, a woman came out to smoke a cigarette before heading back inside.
I took my phone out to check the time, making sure I still had time before I had to meet Arikos when I heard something that sounded like an intake of breath. My eyes widening, I whipped around just in time for a brick to come across my face. Pain exploded in my skull and I hit the ground, gasping for breath and clutching at my bloody nose.
Someone cursed in a foreign language and I whirled around to sucker punch him in the gut. He grunted and doubled over. I grabbed him and slammed him up against the brick wall of the apartment beside me, slamming my fist into his gut two more times before I drew my arm up against his neck, forcing his head back against the bricks.
He looked extremely familiar with long dark red hair that fell over his face, a mask pulled up over the bottom half of his face, and paint streaked across his eyes. He was decked out in enough black that told me he'd done the same thing I had; blended with the shadows. And judging from the fact that I hadn't even heard him sneak up on me meant he was trained.
"Who are you?" I seethed. The man snarled and snapped his fangs at me. I froze when he said something in a language I didn't understand.
A Russian vampire feeding you some kind of drug... That's what Hades had said. This had to be the same man. It explained why he was so familiar. Gritting my teeth, I slammed him up against the wall again and he grunted.
"You're the prick who drugged me," I snarled. He flashed his fangs in a sick grin and I bashed my head against his, bouncing it off the brick wall. He groaned and snapped his fangs in pain, wrestling to throw me off him, but the fury surged through my veins as I remembered exactly what Hades had described about the drug. Infuriated, I grabbed him and threw him across the alley, smashing him against the brick wall. He hit the ground, breathing hard. He stumbled for a second, giving me pause.
Somehow, I remembered him being much better at fighting than this...
He whipped around and lunged for me, but I caught him and threw him onto the ground, getting on top of him and grabbing his throat.
"Is Tiberius inside that whorehouse?" I demanded, giving him a violent shake. He blinked hard, breathing heavily. I scowled, noticing the redness of his cheeks, the way his pupils dilated and his lips parted as if he were having trouble breathing. He squirmed beneath me, grabbing at my arms. I gave his neck another squeeze, only this time, he moaned low in his throat and arched his back against me.
Disgusted, I slugged him hard in the face and stood up over him. He peered up at me, panting and laughing. He said something in that language of his and I kicked him in the ribs. He yelped, cringing in pain. I looked up to make sure he wasn't accompanied by a partner. We were alone, aside from the rats that were hiding in the nearby trash shoot. I looked back down at my attacker, watching them lay there. He acted as if he were...
Drugged.
He was drugged. But why? Why would they send a drugged man after me? Had he accidentally been stuck with the needle that was intended for me?
I stooped down and tore his jacket open, patting down his pockets. He squirmed for a second, then went still and laid there, limp as a dead fawn. I frowned, reaching down to grab his face and forcing him to look at me. He stared up at me with a dazed faraway look in his eyes before I let him go and his head flopped to the side.
He wasn't dead. Just heavily drugged.
Digging through his pockets, I managed to find a small vial of blue liquid, a bottle of pain pills, a prescription for seizures, and a doctor's note informing him he was terminal. Terminal for what, it didn't say. Just that he was dying and there was nothing they could do. Confused to hell, I folded the paper up and tucked it into my pocket, along with the vial and pain pills. Though, I kept his seizure medication in his pocket.
"What's your name?" I demanded. He just moaned. I rolled my eyes and snatched him up by the front of his jacket roughly, giving him a shake and his head lolled back.
"Your name!" I barked. The man purred almost like a content cat, making me drop him on the ground in frustration. His fingers twitched and goosebumps crept along his skin. He seemed to be trying to move, and then a second later, foam began to bubble up in his mouth and pour past his lips.
Cursing, I grabbed him and pushed him over on his side, watching his eyes roll up in his head as he choked and vomited. Small vibrations shot through his body until he went still. I expected him to be dead by now, but his eyes slid toward me and with wet lips, he smiled faintly.
"Ye vile die, krisa," he replied, then passed out. I stepped back with a frown. So he did speak Greek, or at least a little bit. But he was completely out now. I looked around to make sure we hadn't been seen, then turned to leave, then stopped. The alley smelled rotten and horrid. There was an occasional homeless person scuttling through the shadows, picking through trash cans and fighting rats over the rotten food.
I turned to look back at the man, narrowing my eyes.
Leave him. He tried to drug you. He works for Tiberius.
I froze. He works for Tiberius. It'd be stupid to leave him laying here when he could be extremely valuable, especially when I got a translator for us.
I reached into my pocket and took out my phone, walking over to the man and stooping over to yank him up and over my shoulder. I dialed Kristoff's cell phone, listening to it ring.
"Wow," Kristoff greeted me, "You're actually calling me. I think I should be flattered."
"Good, then I have you buttered up enough to talk you into coming to Hell."
"And why the, and pardon the pun, hell would I do that?" Kristoff asked. I rolled my eyes, heading down the other end of the alleyway to avoid getting seen by the cameras or any other assassins hiding in the shadows.
"I have one of Tiberius's men."
"You what?"
"I have one of--"
"I know, that wasn't a repeat that what it was a what the fuck what. How? Why? Who is it?"
"All of those questions can be answered if you would get your ass over here and translate for me. We need to do it fast, and if you happen to have any medical skills, those would be convenient now too."
"I don't... But I know someone who does. Okay, I'll grab my guy and we'll meet you at one of my safe houses in Hell. I'm sending you a map, but delete it as soon as you find the place. I'll probably have to move it somewhere else anyway." Click. I rolled my eyes, pulling the phone away to stare down at the screen, and a second later, it blinked and the image of a map came up. I studied it for a moment, memorized it, then deleted it and headed in the direction, grimacing at the weight of the man on my shoulders. There was still a strong part of me that wanted to throw the man down and leave him for the rats to feast on. But he was more useful to me alive.
Suddenly, a ringing sound caught me off guard, and for a moment, I thought it was my cell phone, until I realized it was coming from the man on my shoulder. I reached up and dug around in his pocket until I withdrew his phone, just in time for voicemail to pick it up. A man left a message, but I didn't recognize his voice. He sounded like he was in pain, close to tears even. But he was speaking in the same language as the man on my shoulder, so there was no way to figure out what he was saying. I'd have to remember to have Kristoff translate it just in case.
I checked the time, grimacing.
It was getting closer and closer to the time Arikos and I were to meet up. I wasn't about to leave him waiting, but I had to get more information out of this guy. Finding Tiberius and killing him was more important... At least, I think it was.
Shaking my head, I continued until I found myself at a river that appeared to lead from the Back Sea and out into Sheol, the land of souls. I scanned the run-down buildings and an old mill that was boarded up with several signs that appeared to warn people away. That was the place. It was just like the vampire to pick a dark cold place in Hell's slums for a headquarters... and rather an intelligent choice as well. The building appeared abandoned and dangerous. It was foolish to even think about going inside.
So I walked in through a backdoor that appeared to be chained closed, until I yanked the chains off and walked inside. The mill was just to be expected; completely destroyed and crawling with rats that hissed at me and scuttled away. Tarps fluttered gently as I passed, scanning the large interior of the building. Half the windows were busted open near the pitched roof, and the other half closer to the ground floors were boarded up. The place reeked of mildew and rat feces. It was a horrendous place.
I hadn't walked for more than a couple minutes, taking in everything I could, just in case the place was already home to some unwanted creatures. A ripple of power pulsed in the air and I narrowed my eyes, whirling around, keeping a grip on the man over my shoulder, and withdrawing a weapon.
In a cloud of smoke, a man and a woman appeared just several feet away from me.
The man was about my height, his long dark brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, eyes hidden behind a pair of opaque sunglasses. He wore a tight black jumpsuit with a weapons holster partially hidden behind his long leather black coat. If that didn't say assassin, I didn't know what did.
The woman, on the other hand, was dressed completely different. Nothing like an assassin, or even a killer. She was a curvy woman with thick black hair that fell in thick curls over her shoulders, her green eyes glinting eerily in the dimly lit mill, and she wore a sedate elbow-length gray dress that came to her knees, and a black medical bag hanging on her arm.
The moment she saw me, her eyes widened.
"Put that damn thing down," she exclaimed angrily, "I spend all day around men waving knives in my face and I won't do it here, puddin' pop." Confused by her, I lowered the weapon just slightly and the man sighed, reaching up to remove his glasses to reveal blood red eyes.
"Menoetius, it's Kristoff."
"And the woman?"
"Check your tone, sugarballs," the woman warned, making me eye her warily, "I'm not a huge fan of that man talk. That may have worked back in your time period, but it doesn't work in this one. Mama Jah don't do that shit." I looked at Kristoff, baffled by the woman, and Kristoff laughed.
"I should've warned you about Jahlia. She's kind of a loose cannon," he admitted, tucking his sunglasses into the inside of his coat. Jahlia arched a brow at him, placing a hand on her hip.
"Do I look like a need a warning label? You watch it too," she said, then turned to me, raising a brow, "Now, if you'll be so kind, caveman, I would like to check and make sure you didn't kill our patient." I frowned.
"He's already dying," I replied, making her eyebrows go up, then slant down in instant anger and I rolled my eyes, "I didn't do it. He's terminally ill. I went through his things." Jahlia snorted.
"Of course you did," she said dryly, "Nothing like going through a dying man's shit."
"He drugged me. I honestly don't think I can find anymore respect than dragging him out of the gutter. I need you to wake him up so I can interrogate him," I said. Jahlia squinted at me for a moment, before her eyes widened and she turned to Kristoff, instantly punching him in the arm, making him hiss and grab his arm, taking a huge step away from her.
"Menoetius?! As in, Hanniboo's Menoetius? Kristoff!"
"Jeez, woman! What's your deal? I said Menoetius before we left!"
"You didn't say it was my boo's Menoetius! This changes everything," she said, then cast me an angry glare, "I'm not doing anything that involves helping you." I sighed in frustration, wiping a hand down my face as Kristoff shook his head.
"It's not for me," I snapped at Jahlia at last, watching her green eyes flash angrily, "It's for Hannibal. This man works for one of the monsters who attacked Hannibal. Judging from your pet name for him, he must be one of your friends. If that's true, then you know exactly how serious an attack it was and why nothing you say will stop me from killing them." Jahlia paused at that, eyeing me warily. She folded her arms over her chest, which caused her breasts to rise high in her dress. I glanced at Kristoff, but he didn't even seem to notice.
What was with women and their revealing clothing today?
Different time period, nimrod.
Right.
Women are a lot scarier now that they have more rights.
"Fine," Jahlia said, though she sounded reluctant, "But this is for Hanniboo, not you, and certainly not you, Kristoff. Jeez, when Bella finds out you're doing this, she's gonna flip." Kristoff shrugged helplessly, but said nothing more. He gestured for us to follow him and led us through the mill, then down a flight of stairs that took us into a small office, where a door took up most of the space. Going through it, we were led into a long hallway before going through yet another door, another elaborate set of doors and hallways before we made it to a large bunker type room.
A large sofa, small bed, a television, and a small kitchen occupied the space. Everything was stocked in the kitchen from blood bags to meat to food in strange silver packaging. It smelled like a sterile clean area, an odd smell to me. It was brightly lit too, unlike the rest of the mill.
"Set him down over here," Jahlia said, gesturing to the bed. I obeyed, doing it none-too-kindly and Jahlia gave me a stern glare. I shrugged and stepped back, taking the man's cell phone and handing Jahlia the things I'd confiscated from him. After a quick study, Jahlia's expression darkened as she studied the paper.
"Yeah," she said after a moment, eyes skimming the page, "He was diagnosed with Rudigra." I scowled at the unfamiliar word, and Kristoff hissed past clenched teeth, taking a step back from him. Jahlia rolled her eyes.
"Calm down, vampire," she said, then turned to me, "Rudigra is a terminal illness that only infects Russian night crawlers."
"A what?"
"A night crawler," Jahlia repeated, "They're cousins to the vampire, and often get mistaken as such, but they have a distinct difference in that night crawlers burn in sunlight and prefer colder climates, hence why they are a Russian creature. Rudigra is basically cancer for night crawlers. They drink infected blood and the infection starts as a small ball, then gets bigger and bigger until it bursts apart and spreads to other parts of the body. Once it hits the brain, it's game over and the night crawler is dead. According to his doctor's notice, they caught it just as it burst. It's treatable if caught early, but after it bursts..." She frowned down at the patient. I didn't particularly care, but it made sense why Hades thought he was a vampire.
"I found this in his jacket," I said, turning to Kristoff and handing him the cell phone, "There's a message on it. Can you translate it?" Kristoff nodded and took the phone, hitting a few buttons on the screen before the message played, and he frowned slowly.
"It sounds like a message from a lover," he replied slowly, "Says, "Ivan, it's Viktor. Please call me, I'm sorry for hurting you. Please don't do this. I want to talk. Meet me at our usual place, please." and he goes on to say some really lovey-dovey bullshit. Sounds like his lover's upset. He wants to meet somewhere around eight, and judging from the guy's location history, he's frequently visited a restaurant in Little Italy called Bonvis." I sighed.
"Not particularly helpful," I said. Kristoff nodded in agreement, continuing to search for the phone for information.
"Don't be so callous," Jahlia scolded him as she pulled something out of her bag, revealing a blood bag and an IV that she hooked the man up to, "He's dying. You're taking him back to where you found him afterwards."
"You mean an alleyway behind a whorehouse? Sure." Jahlia cut me a glare so sharp that I almost felt the sting of it. I shifted uncomfortably and she turned back to the man, frowning as she touched his forehead and pressed a strange handheld device to his forehead, then down over his chest.
"That's weird. Did he take some kind of drug before you knocked him out?"
"I didn't knock him out, some drug did. He came after me while he was drugged."
"That's suspicious," Kristoff said immediately. Jahlia nodded.
"Whatever it is must be doing wonders for his illness. It's slowed the progression of the infection, not by much, but enough to give him a good amount of time left. It's only just recently burst. He's got about five years left on his time. It also didn't seem to knock him out completely. He can hear us, feel us, but he can't see anything or react. It's almost like he's paralyzed."
"It's some kind of," I paused, not particularly wanting to say the word and Jahlia looked at me expectantly, so I sighed, "It's some kind of rape drug. That's what Hades called it." Jahlia stared at me.
"Hades?" She asked. I averted my eyes.
"This same demon attacked me a couple nights ago and injected me with the same drug," I replied dryly. Jahlia's eyes widened and she and Kristoff shared alarmed stares.
"Are you alright?" Kristoff asked. I gave him a droll stare.
"Don't pretend you give a shit. Nothing happened, except I passed out and woke up without any memory of what happened. Hades was the one who had to tell me after he read my mind."
"I'm going to keep him under observation," Jahlia said after a moment, standing up, "I'll keep him here, for now. Once he wakes up, I'm going to do a few tests. Kristoff, you might need to stay here and help me hold him down." Kristoff nodded, then turned to me.
"You might want to get home before Hannibal blames me again for your shenanigans," he said. I glared at him.
"Hannibal doesn't give a shit about where I am. Besides, I have a prior engagement. Keep an eye on him. The moment he wakes up, I want you to contact me," I said, turning to leave. Kristoff moved toward me, grabbing my arm and I swung around to shake him off, shooting him a dirty look.
"Menoetius, you have no idea how much stress Hannibal's been through since--"
"Yes, yes, since he brought me back from the dead so generously. I'd thank him, but he just royally fucked me over and I want to stay away from him before I do something stupid," I snapped. Kristoff's eyes snapped fire.
"Let's get one thing straight," he said in a low voice, "The only reason I'm even helping you is because of Hannibal. If not for him, I would've reported you to Hades and watched you burn. But I want those bastards dead as much as you do. Hannibal is the only reason you're even here."
"And I'm oh so grateful to him," I sneered, watching Kristoff's red eyes glow menacingly, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date." I vanished from the mill.
Oh yeah, I thought, so grateful.
Thank you, Hannibal. Thank you for bringing me back to a Hell worse than I've ever experienced.
I appreciate it, brother.