Chapter Thirteen
"So, you're still here, huh?"
I ground my teeth together at the sound of Hades's voice outside the bars of my prison in Tartarus. The air stirred with Hades's presence in the darkness outside my cell, and I couldn't see anything, but his glowing blue eyes narrowed in the darkness, feel his power crackling with a new electrical charge that confirmed my suspicions of Rhea and Cronus's ultimate demise.
I actually felt a smirk tug at the corners of my lips as I remembered Rhea's offers to me if I joined her crazy revenge scheme. I'd warned her what would happen if she peacocked around like she was so prone to doing. Now she was dead, and I could feel her power flickering inside Hades's aura, feel it being absorbed by the Olympian god.
The war against the Titans was over. Tartarus was getting a whole new makeover.
"Why didn't you leave?" Hades asked, stepping close to the bars. There was a faint light from somewhere above my cell, casting an eerie glow down over Hades's face. Sharp purely Greek features shadowed by dim light, blue eyes like a pair of headlights in the darkness around him, and that insistent power that pushed into my cell and applied pressure around me, almost like he was trying to suffocate me to no avail. I was already dead.
"There was no point," I answered hollowly, staring across my cell through the darkness that was so oppressive, it hurt my eyes, "Stay or go, I'd end up in the same place." Hades scoffed, my eyes glancing over at him as he studied me, his arms folded over his chest.
"You're more depressing than I am," he said, and I shrugged, "Anyway, I'm moving you to a new location. It'll be cleaner."
"I'm not going anywhere," I said dryly. Hades rolled his eyes.
"Do you think you really have a choice?" He asked. No. I didn't. I just liked the darkness of the cell, the moment of peace. Despite Rhea taking off on her crusade and leaving me in Tartarus, there were no guards here to torture me or feed me or hurt me. I was left alone and it had felt so nice to suffer in silence, in peace. Unfortunately, it was over the moment Hades and his family beat back the Titans. My peace was over and my hell resumed.
Hades had forced me into a new cell, on the third level of Tartarus. It was sterile and cold, everything was blindingly white. The cell was smaller than the last one I had; a flat box with only a small toilet, a strange white sink built into the wall, and an iron cot that pulled out of the wall. One wall was made entirely of glass. Instead of sitting in filthy rags, I'd been put in a stiff white uniform that clung to my skin with a high collar. The floor was icy cold on my feet, so I'd gone out of my way to only stay on the cot. As if the new change wasn't hellish enough, Hades had implemented something he called therapy. He'd change the glass wall into some kind of television. I'd be forced to watch my worst nightmares over and over again.
If I tried to break out, they'd rip my fingernails out and burn the undersides of my feet. Once it was healed, they'd do it again. I'd had my tongue cut out once. It was all I could remember, just the basics, not really the feelings. The memory behind those feelings had vanished during my rebirth.
Hades had done it so I didn't carry the trauma of it with me into my new life.
God fucking forbid I let my trauma get in the way of saving the world, or so he thought.
Unfortunately, that same numb sensation to that torture didn't work this time when I woke up from what I swore was my second death. Then again, if it was a second death, I wouldn't be waking up and nothing would exist. It still felt like a second death, though.
I woke up feeling sore and stiff. Behind heavy eyelids, my eyes felt as if they'd sunken to the back of my skull. I took a deep breath into my aching lungs, and I choked at the rush of air, going into a coughing fit that only made my body hurt even worse. Once I sobered, I cleared my throat and parted my lips to take another breath, this time picking up on strange scents around me. Something sweet and salty, like the ocean, combined with the faintest hint of mild cologne.
I swore I heard someone speaking, just vaguely, their voice muffled by the fact that my hearing had yet to come in completely. Instead, it was mostly a ringing sound. It felt like my head was underwater, swimming with nausea and confusion. I tried to move my hands to my head, but they felt heavy as rocks, and just moving my fingertips sent prickling numbness all the way up to my shoulders. I listened to the sound of two people talking. I couldn't make out what was being said at first, just that it was another language. One that sounded vaguely familiar.
I finally managed to open my eyes, grimacing at the brightness in the room with me. I blinked away a few stray tears from the brightness, focusing on a beautiful gold ornate ceiling overhead. I cocked my head slowly against the pillow beneath my head, the feel of it just coming to me through the pulsing pain in my temples. The piercing brightness came from a wall of windows around me that revealed a tropical paradise and afternoon sun pouring in through white curtains that billowed in the breeze that carried with it the sweet scents of the ocean and foliage.
Confused, I managed to tense myself up enough to slowly sit up against the headboard of the large bed I was in. A bed that was definitely big enough for a large family. I drew my hand up to my head to clutch where it throbbed, only to pause at the sight of white gauze around my wrists. I looked at them, baffled.
Had I been caught during my daily ritual?
I peeled back the gauze, but there was no way to tell which scars were new and which were old now. They all looked the same, deep and straight, save for the long jagged vertical cut that had come from dropping my razor when Kristoff had called.
I placed my hands over my wrists, rubbing for a moment as I closed my eyes-- and then it hit me so suddenly that I gasped out loud, slamming myself back against the headboard, my jaw locking tight.
No.
Even though the word formed on my lips as a silent prayer, I knew no amount of denial would change the fact of what happened. My skin crawled and my wrists itched to the point where I was scratching them until they were red. My eyes darted around the room frantically, expecting someone to be hiding behind the rich mahogany furniture, but there was too much light in the room for me not to notice anyone.
However, despite that logical confirmation, my panic rose until I was breathing raggedly, blood racing through my system, screaming at me to get the hell out of there, but my body was paralyzed by a roar of fury and fear
Atlan.
I'd been tied to that chair. Tiberius and Atlan were arguing. Tiberius had done something to piss him off and Atlan had released me from that chair. Everything had gone red, so red, and I shuddered as I remembered the blood that soaked my hands and face. I felt like it was still dripping down my cheeks and I shook my head quickly before looking at my hands, which had been wiped clean. I looked down, expecting to see myself naked, but I had been put in a pair of very soft loose black pants with stretchy ankle-bands and waistband. It reminded me of the Atlantean ceremonial garb, but that couldn't be right... Why the hell would I be wearing that?
I swallowed hard, peering down at my hands again.
It was as if they'd never killed anyone... and yet, every time I blinked, I saw the blood there and I shivered in revulsion.
No part of me regretted killing Tiberius, no. That wasn't what made me sick to my stomach.
It was the sudden blood thirst behind it that scared me. I'd killed plenty of people in my life, but I was always there in the moment, always knew what I was doing and how I was doing it. I was a soldier and there was no place to hide in war. It was kill or be killed. I always had my head in the game, always had my guard up, watched my surroundings for the next attack with a counterattack already in mind. Everything I did was coordinated in strategy.
But this... Not this. Not Tiberius. An unrelenting rage had ripped through my veins, turning my vision red, and before I knew it, I was on top of Tiberius, bashing his skull open against the floor until it was splintered open, spilling an ocean of red around me. Thinking about it again brought bile into my throat, but I swallowed it back as I looked up at the door nervously.
What had happened to me?
What was that?
And Atlan... He'd knocked me out. Not with a blow to the head, just a simply sleeping spell. Now I suddenly wake up and I'm in some sort of lavish room?
I shifted in discomfort, still feeling mildly panicked, but mostly by memories as opposed to my current situation. I took another deep breath to try and steady my nerves when the door across the room suddenly opened and I stiffened, jerking my head up.
Despite the pain still aching in my bones, I managed to leap from the bed and slam against the wall by the bed, trying to find the strength in my legs to prepare myself to run, to attack.
I expected a guard, or even Atlan himself to come in, but on the contrary-- I was greeted by a tiny petite red-headed woman with a basket of clothes in her arms and a water bottle sitting on top. She pulled up short, however, when she saw that I was awake.
"You're awake," she breathed, almost like she was relieved, and I narrowed my eyes as she set the basket down on the floor and took the water bottle, holding it out to me with a smile.
"Here, you'll need to hydrate to recover your strength," she offered, moving closer with the water bottle. I tensed, scooting back along the wall to get further away from her. She paused, her smile faltering in concern. She went still for a moment, then placed the bottle on the nightstand and stepped away, then smiled again.
"Who are you?" I demanded, not bothering with the water.
"My name is Dianna, and I am your caretaker," she said, inclining her head respectfully. I hesitated, confused.
"Caretaker?" I asked to make sure. She nodded.
"Indeed."
"Why am I here? How did I get here? What's going on?"
"All your questions will be answered," Dianna promised, "But first we need to restore you to health. Please drink, and you can follow me to the kitchen. You've gone quite a bit without solid food." My stomach churned at the mention of food. While my stomach itself was starving, gnawing and growling for even a bit of bread, thinking about the only things that had emptied into my stomach recently made me sick. A bitter sour flavor erupted in my mouth and I pressed the back of my hand against my lips to staunch the vomit, but I couldn't hold it back this time.
I turned away from Dianna, putting my arm out to keep her back as I vomited on the floor, breathing hard as I blinked back the images flashing through my mind that I wanted to forget so badly.
The first time I'd been slipped that damn drug, I'd forgotten everything that had happened to me, but not this time. This time, I remembered almost every minute in that whorehouse. My skin crawled at the memory of all those hands grabbing me, pulling me, hitting me. Even worse were the memories of Tiberius hooking up the IV to my neck, pumping me so full of drugs that I was delirious half the time and I wanted to scream in agony when I realized he'd been telling the truth.
You were more than excited to take me inside you... You happily spread your legs for me, taking me inch by inch.
More bile spilled past my lips and I panted hard, collapsing to my knees and trembling as I squeezed my eyes shut, struggling to block the memories from my mind, but it was no use.
He slipped you a date rape drug. Basically, it paralyzes you, and it increases your sensitivity to touch.
It makes you want it more. Hades hadn't said that, but that's what he meant and now I felt even worse than I had before. I wrapped my arms around myself tightly, slipping to my knees and hunching over. I felt Dianna moving toward me, but couldn't find the strength in me to push her away as she waved her hand to clean up the mess on the floor before she approached me cautiously.
Looking at her now, I realized she wasn't particularly a threat. Her hands were too delicate, dainty even. Not a single callous. She also wore a long pleated skirt and a strange black top with large holes in the shoulders. She certainly wasn't a soldier.
"Menoetius," Dianna began in a soft voice, "Please, come with me and--"
"Go away," I seethed, squeezing my arms and turning my head away from her.
"You need to eat--"
"I'm not hungry."
"If you don't--"
"Get away from me!" I snarled at her abruptly. She leapt back fearfully, eyes widening as if she were honestly waiting for me to attack her, and a split second memory of Tiberius's face contorted in horror when he realized I was going to kill him came to my mind and I flinched, my stomach churning. I shut my eyes tightly and touched my forehead to my knees.
"Just get away from me," I repeated more quietly this time. Dianna swallowed in apprehension, as if she were debating my words before she inclined her head, returning to her basket and taking it out, shutting the door behind her. I didn't hear a lock fall shut, meaning I wasn't a prisoner, or so it seemed thus far.
Even so, I didn't have the strength to get up and run. Instead, I sat on the floor, back to the stone wall with my arms around my knees, forehead on top of them as each little breeze in the room chilled me to the bone.
I didn't want to move. I wanted to sit there and die there. There was a deep cold pit of feelings that made me feel too heavy to move, too heavy to want to move. Humiliation hit the hardest, something that always managed to get past my defenses. I could handle hatred and I could handle pain, but humiliation stung worst of all.
I'd spent my entire life training so that Iapetus would fucking look at me once and be proud. I'd worked my ass off to try and show Hannibal that I wasn't the kind of bastard to defect to the dark side. I'd literally given up my own ass to save his life, only for it to be crammed down my throat.
I was a fucking god. The supposed Key of Atlantis. I was supposedly Source born.
So how was it that some cheap asshole with an experimental drug managed to get me down on my knees like that? Amongst other positions, all of which made me cringe and shrink in on myself, wishing a hole would open up and swallow me whole. All of that and I ended up in the worst possible place of my life. It made Tartarus look like a walk in the park. Even worse was that Tiberius had done more than just sell me and use me; he'd taunted me about Hannibal. All sorts of disgusting things that made my skin crawl and I suddenly wanted to weep over what had been done to him.
And then a thought occurred to me that really pushed me over the edge.
Amenti.
The last I'd seen of her, she'd been running through the snow in my jacket to get help. I had no idea what happened to her. I had no idea if she got away or Tiberius's men caught up with her, and true terror gripped me as a lump formed in my throat and I sank my fingernails into my skin as I squeezed my eyes shut.
Oh my god, the last thing I did was yell at her. She was just a kid. What the hell was wrong with me to scream at her like that? That would be the last thing she'd remembered of me. For all I knew, she was also held prisoner by Tiberius and that succeeded in making me choke on a sob. It hurt so much to finally feel that break, that give inside me as the pain burst apart and I sobbed against my knees.
Amenti, I'm so sorry. Please, please be safe. I promised I wouldn't let anything happen to her. It was my fault her mother was dead, my fault they were dragged into that stupid shit. If I had just left it alone like Hannibal had told me to, Amenti would still be safe at home with her mother.
Hannibal was right. I was tearing families apart. While my heart didn't exactly bleed for the families of those I'd killed, my heart bled for Amenti and her mother and the fact that it was my fault they no longer had each other. Now Amenti was an orphan and I had no idea where she was and the very thought of her being with Tiberius shredded me inside.
But what could I do? I was stuck in a place I'd never seen before in my life, a caretaker that didn't look the least bit familiar. I had no idea where Atlan went, where Dianna went. I was blind and weak and I could do nothing, but sit huddled in a ball in a room so full of riches that I felt as if I were sullying it all just by existing here.
I sat there until the sun went down, until the room was bathed in the sunsets orange glow, then darkness descended. Only the soft faint glow of the moon outside, the twinkling stars, gave light to my room. My eyes sat unwavering on the water bottle on the nightstand.
It was probably poisoned, or drugged, or for all I knew, Atlan fucking pissed in the thing.
What's it matter? You were a human toilet not too long ago. I flinched at that inner jab and inched across the floor to the nightstand, swallowing hard as I picked the bottle up and unscrewed the top. I greedily downed the entire bottle, breathing out a gasp of relief once I'd emptied the entire thing before casting it aside.
I still felt rotten. Still felt sick. Still felt like I couldn't lift even a pound of weight.
I slumped back against the wall and went back to staring at the walls, trying to cope with the fact that I was completely useless for the first time in my life. Or at least, this was the first time I was accepting it. I'd fought so long, so hard, and I kept getting nothing out of it, but spat in the face. What was the point of trying anymore if I couldn't get even a little reprieve? I couldn't even be granted the fucking mercy of death. If I died, so did everyone else.
Why do you care?
I. Don't. Fucking. Know.
Even broken and stupid and worthless, I still managed to give a shit, still managed to hang onto the hope that Amenti had made it to Arikos. Maybe Arikos found her and saved her. Maybe he took her somewhere they would give her to a nice loving family. If the Source could granted me any fucking wish, it'd be that she'd find a safe home, a loving family. She deserved it. She was the only person who'd ever looked at me and just saw me. Not the facade I tried so hard to keep up. She saw me and she accepted me.
As for Arikos... A bitterness began to settle in where he was concerned. Arikos had been so persistent in pursuing me. He kept answering with "because I like you" over and over again. He took me to places he knew I'd be comfortable. He told me things he knew I wanted to hear, and he told me things he thought I wanted to hear. We had Hannibal in common. We had memories of him we could share, things I'd found stupidly precious.
Because I like you.
That was all he would say while smiling secretly and it wasn't until I found myself sitting in that cold dark room in a place I'd never been in that I realized what that secret was.
Arikos was so much like Hannibal, and even more so like Atlan. Like Hannibal, Arikos wanted to keep an eye on me. He didn't trust me. What better way to do that then to keep me close? His constant excuses of wanting to spend time together, his attempts to woo me. It wasn't about honest affection. Because there was no such thing. Arikos just wanted to ensure my loyalties and keep me where he could watch me, where Hannibal could watch me.
And like Atlan, Arikos was very good at convincing people.
I actually found myself laughing at the fact that I'd fallen into that trap so easily. It was so cliched, so stupid, yet I had stumbled right into it and actually started to consider a relationship with him. Like that would've worked out. Where the hell would it have gone? I hated being touched, now more than ever, and Arikos loved touching. He was always touching my hands, my face, my arms, and then when he kissed me... I actually felt a strange deep ache at not having that again, but the reminder of the purpose of that kiss soured that ache quickly.
Now I knew where everyone stood where I was concerned.
I wasn't a possible friend, or even an ally.
I was a threat that needed to be coaxed or imprisoned. At least Atlan imprisoned me, sort of. At least he wasn't trying to play me into his hand.
How pathetic. In all the world, there was only one tiny hand that ever touched me with a helpless loving innocence that brought me to tears again as I remembered the way Amenti had kissed my fingers, had yelled my nickname in her cute baby voice.
And now she's gone.
My breath hitched and I shut my eyes tightly.
My wrists itched to the point where it was unbearable. Unable to stand it any longer, I got to my feet, my legs sore and weak as I limped my way to one of the dressers. I began to rummage around through the drawers, finding most of them empty, save for a few linens. I dug through the entire room, but couldn't find anything sharp enough.
Frustrated, I paused in front of the door to the room, hesitant to venture out. I didn't know my surroundings at all. What if guards were waiting outside? I hadn't seen any when Dianna came in earlier, but there could be seem now. Or some other kind of trap.
I moved away from the door and finally managed to find one thing I could use in the room. A mirrored vanity sat on the opposite end of the room. I drew my fist back and smashed it, feeling bits of glass stab and rip my knuckles. I savored the pain as I plucked out a perfectly good piece, blowing on it and moving to one of the windows to sit on the stone sill. I held the bit of glass up to the moonlight, watching it reflect beautifully.
I held my arm out and laid the glass against my skin. I missed the cold sterile feeling of my razor, but from the looks of the room, my backpack had been confiscated as well. But the glass would do for now.
I slanted the blade of glass so it bit into my wrist and I hissed between clenched teeth as blood welled up on my skin and slid down the sides. I breathed out a long sigh of relief, resting my head back against the side of the window, savoring the burn. I opened my eyes and looked up at the sky on a whim, my eyes widening slightly at the sight of it.
And here I thought the sky in Hell was beautiful with the addition of city lights to add colorful glows. However, it hit me how much the light polluted the beauty of the night sky. The velvet blackness speckled with silver glittering stars, and the moon a nearly full pearl in the sky. Some of the stars even misted together, as if there were just too many of them to stay apart like that. I briefly searched for constellations, but found none that I recognized, oddly enough. It meant I was in a completely different realm. It didn't bother me as much as it did when I first woke up.
Now I was excited by the idea of counting all those stars, tilting my head this way and that to find a shape in them. One star in particular stood out from the others. A large silver star, swirling in the sky, not winking like the rest, but turning slowly.
For some reason, it reminded me of Arikos's eyes, and my stomach sank.
My sunlight.
His moonlight and stars.
How strange that it occurred to me how romantic that was supposed to be. Arikos was extremely good at what he did if he could come up with something like that. How did he know how much I cherished the night sky? How did he know I liked counting the stars until I fell asleep? Or how often I dreamed of becoming part of the night sky like other constellations? Could he read minds like Hades, or was I just that obvious?
I'd have to remember not to make myself so obvious should Atlan finally return for me.
I'd come to the conclusion that this must be where he was hiding out when he wasn't terrorizing the other realms, the other gods. I had no idea where it was, didn't particularly care. Nor did I care that Atlan had me, because he was stupid if he thought he could talk me into joining his idiotic crusade. Unfortunately for him, there was nothing he could use to bargain my allegiance. Of course, Hannibal and Arikos and Akin and everyone else didn't seem to think so. Somehow they still seemed to think there was at least something in this world I could want and their thinking was probably along the lines of power or vengeance... Neither of which appealed to me.
What power could Atlan possibly offer me that hadn't already been stripped from me? What vengeance could he offer me? I'd already killed Tiberius. Atlan probably killed the rest. Or would he make the mistake of offering me Hannibal as Rhea did? A cookie for his efforts, but in the end, Atlan wouldn't have my loyalty. He sorely overestimated my intelligence, because even after figuring out Arikos's plan and Hannibal's distrust in me, I refused to assist Atlan.
If not for the world, then for Amenti.
If she was still out there and she was safe and good, I wanted the world to be just as safe and good for her.
Let's just hope it works out that way.