He wasn’t surprised by much these days, but the Circe coming back into his cell was an unwelcomed surprise. His neck was freed and he was lifted to face them, held up by two sirens on either side of him.
Dizziness made the Circe’s faces blend into one and then separate into six. Funny, that.
Except he was hungry and being upright made his stomach turn like one of those fun house rides at Stone Mountain. Fuck. He was going to hurl.
His body lurched and he dry heaved at their feet. There was nothing to come out but spit and bile; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.
The Circe stepped back. He laughed at them.
“Niérian is much stronger than we thought.”
“Perhaps better used in other ways, sisters.”
“This human will be our leverage. We must know her secrets.”
“Shall we torture her first?”
“Surely she will break much quicker than a son of Elekti-Kairos.”
“Surely.” One of the bitches grabbed his face. “What is she to you, Malakim?”
“Release me, witch, and after I dismember you and strangle you with your own guts, I’ll have mercy and throw your remains into the sea.” He grinned at her, wanting her to fight him, wanting to lash out, even if it killed him. He wanted her death so badly, he could taste it.
She smiled at him. A beautiful smile. Evil to the core. Her grip tightened and then she looked down at his chest where he had clawed the marking. “You are linked to this human.”
“Yes, but how are you linked?” another one said, which made him frown in confusion.
“He doesn’t remember.”
He hated that they spoke of him like this, so plainly, as though he did not exist. He struggled against the guards. “He is right here, morons.”
For that he received a punch in the stomach by one of the guards, followed by an uppercut to the jaw. Without support, his legs were too weak to hold him and he collapsed onto the floor. Onto his back. He screamed in pain and rolled to his side, the shock of it stealing his breath, and then the kick to his back sent him to blackness.
He came to on his back, his entire body humming with pain; three faces stared down at him, chanting in the most beautiful melody and tone he had ever heard. Each reached down and touched him with their pointer finger. One on the forehead, one on the left temple, and the other on the right temple.
Bright light blinded him. And then he saw flashes. Of the woman in his dreams. But these visions, they conflicted with the ones he’d had before. Of her sitting on a couch . . .
“Do you love him?” someone, a female, asked her.
“No.”
Then other visions, bits and pieces of her, laughing at him, thinking him dim-witted and slow. Using him to get what she wanted. He heard himself groan. He didn’t like these things. These confusing things that somehow had the power to hurt him.
“Who wouldn’t want a siren in their bed?” the Circe’s voice echoed inside of his head. “You are but a trophy, a thing to be used, so she can say she had you.”
“She doesn’t love you.”
“She doesn’t respect you.”
“She believes you to be lesser than siren, not raised as a siren, not taught as a siren, not educated or sophisticated.”
And it was all true. He had fled Fiallan as an adult male with not even the most basic knowledge about how to live or care for himself. He’d had to learn it all from a hermit in the woods of Gorsedd.
The conflict inside of him pushed like a living thing at his chest until he demanded they stop.
“Do as we say, Niérian, and you shall reclaim the honor your treachery stole from your family. Do as we say and the name of Elekti-Kairos will be exonerated with honor and your estate reclaimed.”
“Fuck you,” he said, knowing they lied.
“Do as we say,” the voice whispered softly against his ear, “and we will release you from the NecroNaMoria. Your soul will find peace, Niérian. Peace.”
Peace was more than a word, an idea, or state of being. It was a place. Something he’d seen for himself, felt for himself, a glimpse of true heaven, true paradise for his broken soul. His will cracked, just a small fissure, but a crack that spread. All he had to do was agree.
But then, he could always kill the bitches instead and release the spell that way. If only he had the strength within him. He was one siren against three of the most powerful siren witches in history, and they’d made sure his body was weak and drained.
“Remember what it feels like, siren,” the beautiful voices whispered as one, one so powerful the temptation-laced words made him shudder. “Your soul free from the confines of your body. Aren’t you tired, Niérian? Of the pain, the regret, the longing and guilt? We offer you freedom, the infinite beauty, the absence of all but peace . . . Stillness. Serenity. Silence.”
And that’s when he caved, when he couldn’t fight it anymore because he had tasted paradise so many times his heart and his soul wept for it. Those brief encounters with freedom haunted him, destroyed him. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes and his throat tightened, but not before he said, “Agreed.”
“You’ll do anything we ask of you?”
He glared at them, all the hate he felt burning his eyes. “Yes. Anything.”
“Hello! Anyone out there?” I kicked the door, glared lasers at it, and then kicked it some more. If I had my boots I could really make some noise. As it was, my bare feet only made the hinges rattle. “Come on!” I yelled. “You have a prisoner in here in case you fucking forgot!”
If it wasn’t for Sachâth hounding my every power move, I’d use my freakish fireball of an arm and burn my way free. But then passing out in the hallway where I’d be found and confined again wouldn’t really do me any good.
“Ugh!” Hours of waiting. Hours of wondering. If they were going to interrogate me, then: “Get it over with already!” I wanted a fight, to avenge Hank, to give the Circe a taste of their own medicine, but they weren’t going to oblige. I kicked the door again and marched back to the wall to sit down. I drew my knees to my chest and pulled the fabric of the white gown around my legs.
I closed my eyes. Okay, chill. Find your Happy Place.
Of course, my Happy Place was Emma, which was a bad idea. I was too charged, too emotional. I really should have a backup Happy Place where things were good and warm and—my stomach growled—and satisfying. Ooh. Like Aeva buns. The Happy Imp Bakery where all things were fluffy, white, and delicious.
I rested my forehead on my folded arms and imagined myself lounging on white clouds, eating an Aeva bun, savoring every bite, every sugary flavor . . . Finally, I felt exhaustion easing its way into my body and mind.
Note to self: using food to induce a calm state of mind while imprisoned is not the brightest idea in the world—I woke to an aching ass, stiff neck, and a really pissed off stomach.
My feet were freezing cold, but at least the ends of the gown had dried. I got up and brushed off my gown, then worked out my stiff joints.
The door to my cell opened. I glared at the siren guard, all my earlier ire resurfacing. I did not plan to be a good prisoner or make it easy for my captors; it was the principle of the thing. “It’s about fucking time.”
He grabbed my arm to pull me to the door, but instead swung me in an arc so that I slammed into the wall next to the open door. “Oops, sorry,” he said, and then jerked me through the door and into the hallway.
Asshole.
But I did note, as we went down the passageway, that his voice didn’t have much effect on me. The Circe were another matter, of course, but I’d been caught off guard before. This time I’d be better prepared.
I was taken into the main chamber, the massive cavern where the sea flowed in and out, the sound echoing off the walls. Some of the white blossoms we had placed in the water during the Panopéic rites remained in the calmer pools. The Circe were gathered behind the altar, their attention fixed on the altar’s surface.
The urge to be sarcastic and disrespectful almost had me saying Yo, bitches. But I said nothing and parked a glower on my face as I was led forward.
They looked up in unison and I decided the whole triplet thing was getting old. I glanced down and saw what they’d been hovering over. Oh great. A certain stone tablet, yea big, with rounded corners and symbols just as Leander had described.
There was my ticket to free my sister and the others from their ash addiction.
Ephyra stepped around the altar and grabbed my right arm, holding it out to examine the writing as I concentrated on bracing myself against her voice. “It is the same,” she said. Her fingers dug into my skin. My arm was still sore from the night before and it felt as though she was digging into a bad bruise, but her voice was so pretty . . .
C’mon. Concentrate on your power! I drew my energy into my core and envisioned it as a barrier against the Circe’s voices.
Arethusa shoved the tablet at me. “What does this say?”
A wave of giddiness swamped me, but I held strong to the barrier I envisioned, finally finding my voice. “How should I know?” I tried to pull away but was held tight. “You’re the old ones, not me.”
“Yet you have the same writing on your arm.”
“You must know what it means.”
I jerked out of Ephyra’s grip, rubbing the offended arm and taking a deep breath to steady myself against their thrall. “I don’t. I have no idea what my markings say or what that tablet says. It’s probably an ancient receipt for cows or something,” I added just to irritate them.
“She lies,” Ephyra said.
Calliadne touched my bare shoulder and walked around to my back, trailing her hand over my skin to the marking on my shoulder blade. Her touch made my skin crawl. Barrier. Think Barrier. Don’t let them in.“And this, do you know what this means?” she asked.
I swallowed hard, using my anger to focus. “I’m guessing the answer doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“Not really,” Arethusa answered, her eyes narrowing. “All we need to know lies with another. With Niérian, as he bears the same mark on his chest.”
“His name is Hank.”
“No. His name is Niérian,” Ephyra said, challenging me with a lift of her chin.
Fury leapt hot and ready to the surface, rising in me with every word I spoke. “Well, if you wanted him to keep his given name so badly then maybe you shouldn’t have lied to him, labeled him a traitor, killed his entire family, and then tortured him to death, you stupid bitch!”
Her slap was so quick I didn’t see it coming. There was enough power behind it to send me airborne. I landed in a heap on the cavern floor, so angry that the initial landing didn’t hurt as much as it should have. I saw stars, though, and the side of my face felt numb.
That whole don’t kill the Circe thing? Fucking dissolved. Disappeared. Gone. I stood, rage tearing around inside me like a tornado.
Rational Charlie reminded me I couldn’t let loose the power gathering inside me. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t bring Sachâth here in front of them.
“Her arm, sisters, it’s glowing.”
I glanced down and covered my arm with my hand, not that it helped. The markings glowed blue from my hand to my shoulder. Shit, shit, shit. Calm down. Must calm down. Think of the bakery. But that only made me see red because I was starving, and that was another strike against them.
I never had the chance to calm myself because they approached me like I was some kind of interesting bug. A specimen. They began jabbing at me, pushing me to lose control; they wanted to see what would happen.
“Stop it!” I yelled, hearing the panic in my voice as I backed away until my foot slipped in the water. I struggled to retain my balance, going deeper into the water until it covered my calves. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”
Before I could blink, I was grabbed by the neck, hauled out of the water, and shoved against the altar. The tablet was stuck in my face. “Read it, then.”
“I can’t!” I cried.
“Try,” they all said at the same time. With my defenses down, there was no barrier, yet I was brimming with divine power. When I looked at the words . . . I knew them. I began reading, not knowing what I was saying. I was just a vessel, a conduit from the words in front of me to a language that was eerily similar to the way Sachâth had spoken to me and Ahkneri had spoken in my dreams.
I spoke the words and then collapsed onto the altar, but was given little mercy as I was grabbed once again and shaken. “But what does it mean?”
“I don’t know,” I answered tiredly.
“Liar! You just read them! You know!”
I straightened, my endurance at an end, feeling drunk and reckless off their voices. I held my hands wide in a gesture that said I really didn’t care whether she believed me or not. “I don’t. Get over it, Ephyra. Now feed me because I’m hungry.”
That really got under her skin, as I knew it would.
A vein popped out on her perfect forehead and a growl erupted in her throat, which turned into a screech as she came at me. Arethusa stepped in front of her and said very evenly, “We have much to discuss. Let us convene with the oracle once more.”
That got my attention. “Alessandra isn’t part of this. She doesn’t take sides. She didn’t know—”
“Oh, but the oracle knows everything.” Ephyra smirked. “She’s ours now. Just like Panopé, just like Niérian, just like the Malakim, just like the king.”
“Full of yourself, aren’t you?” I shot back, but her words were burned into my brain and I had a very keen sense that something terrible had happened to Alessandra. I turned my attention to Calliadne, who seemed like the nicest of the three, if such a thing were possible. “What did you do to her? I swear . . . Please . . . just . . . don’t hurt her.”
A dimple formed in Calliadne’s cheek as she considered my plea, met the eyes of her sisters, and then shrugged. “See for yourself if you’d like.”
“Perhaps granting you this wish will encourage you to grant us what we wish,” Arethusa said.
They led me down the passageway to the chamber with the three doors, through the center one and then instead of going right toward the cells, they turned left, the same way they’d gone earlier with Sandra.
As we walked, I tried to prepare myself. She was probably just in a cell, or shackled to a comfortable couch or something. Who’d hurt the oracle? She was one of the most famous people alive. They wouldn’t do something so foolish as to harm her.
I’d all but convinced myself of that when the Circe opened a beautifully carved door leading into an equally beautiful room that resembled the palace in style, art, and architecture. There was power in this room. Old power. In the center was a circular hole, a huge chasm in the ground, and in the middle, in a smaller ring, was a rock jutting up from the depths of the chasm. On the rock was a statue, a female figure rising out of the waves reaching for the sky. She looked like glass, water somehow made solid, but not. A gold, glittery sheen sparkled in the glass and from her hands a shower of radiant gold light spilled upward and disappeared into a round disk in the ceiling that also glowed.
As we drew closer, I saw that the chasm went all the way around the statue. A small bridge connected the main floor with the statue; the chasm was too wide to jump.
The drone that came off the statue and the shower of pearly gold was enormous, like a heartbeat filled with energy and power, much like the spheres and the henge in the Grove.
We kept our distance, moving around the centerpiece and into the next room, which was smaller than the vast main chamber. The room was round with niches built into the walls. Some niches were empty, some held pedestals with relics, objects, and statues.
We went up two wide steps at the end of the room and into another yet smaller round room. “Ah, here we are.”
My instincts screamed at me not to look. I knew this wasn’t right, them bringing me here to see, the feeling in the room. But I had to look for Alessandra’s sake because whatever they had done to her I had to know, so I could figure out how to save her.
But as my eyes found her, I realized with a sickening turn that saving her would be impossible.