Ascension (29 page)

Ryker growled. “Haven is a Chosen. Not even you can kill a Chosen.”

“The Witch is an abomination that never should have happened. What made her worthy of being a Chosen died when tainted blood flew over her lips.”

“Kyana is prepared to die. She just has to know that her friend, her only family, isn’t going to suffer for the things she’s done.”

“Do you plead for the life of the Dark Breed?”

Yes, he did, and he had, all the way up the ranks of the gods to Zeus. It hadn’t made a difference. Despite what he’d told Kyana about her having a chance of surviving this, it wasn’t probable. When her trial ended, she would most likely be sentenced to die—at the hand of Ares if his request was granted.

“No, I plead for you to let her die with a little peace.”

Ares smiled. Ryker wanted to use his fist to knock it off his face. “As my Elite General, you’ve stood witness to many barters. What you’re asking will come with a heavy price. Are you willing to pay it for her peace of mind?”

Ryker knew when he’d made the request the price would be high. There were only two things Ares had ever demanded of Ryker as his son. Ryker had never been willing to concede to either of them.

Straightening his shoulders, Ryker nodded. “I am.”

“Very well, then. The price for your request is to be a Chosen.”

Ryker nearly roared with outrage. The power of his mind caused his skin to tingle. His vision sharpened, became more focused on his target as his eyes changed from silver to blood red. He battled beyond the outrage. By demanding Ryker as his Chosen, Ares got everything he wanted. He got his son on Olympus and would get Ryker to acknowledge before the gods that Ares was his father—two things he’d avoided since learning who his father was. Because of free will, the gods would not accept Ares’s claim unless Ryker acknowledged it first. An acknowledgment he swore on his mother’s grave he’d never make.

With a glance over his shoulder at Kyana, the sight of fear in her eyes made his choice for him. With a barely discernible nod that sealed his fate, Ryker stepped back and allowed Ares to enter. They made their way back to Kyana together.

“He’s going to escort you to Haven, Ky, and take you to your sentencing from there.”

“Thank Zeus.” As her gaze found Ryker’s, she mouthed a silent thank-you.

He tried to smile, to let her know she was welcome, but fell short. Worry flickered in her eyes. She glanced at Ares, then back to Ryker. With a slow shake of his head, he stopped the question he could all but see forming in her mind. If she knew what her brief freedom had cost him, she wouldn’t get the peace she craved, the peace she deserved.

Without even looking in Kyana’s direction, the God of War slipped the disk key from his belt and shut down the pulsing barrier. He snatched her arm, jerked her from the cell, then pivoted to glare at his son.

“When this is done, when she’s sentenced and gone, I will expect you to fulfill your end of our bargain immediately.”

T
he carnage extended far beyond the bloodied room Haven had been kept in. From the front entrance of the Healing Circle, up the stairs and down the hall, unconscious bodies lay strewn about like rag dolls. These, thank Zeus, were still alive, but each one they’d wakened confessed that their naked charge had plowed through them all and escaped the boardinghouse.

By the time Ares dragged Kyana to Haven’s door, her throat was so full of bile that she had to stop and release it. All over Ares’s sandaled feet. He grabbed her hair, yanking her upright, which brought Ryker forward.

He seized his father’s wrist. “Touch her like that again and the deal is off. In fact, look at her cross-eyed and we’ll finally test the limits of the powers I inherited from you.”

Ares’s steely gaze narrowed but he said nothing. Instead, he pushed open the door, releasing the stench of blood into the pure white corridor. A sense of unholiness filled the air, as did a familiar scent, even more foul. The sulfuric stench burned Kyana’s nose. It was the same odor she’d smelled on the obsidian lock. Whoever had touched that lock had been here. Had been in that room with Haven.

“Someone provoked her,” she whispered. “It wasn’t just the Turning . . . something evil touched her in here.” She looked to Ryker and whispered. “Cronos. I smell him.”

Had he possessed Haven as he had Marcus? It was a definite possibility. Haven hadn’t had time to fully turn yet. She was weak and the perfect choice for possession.

“You cannot assuage your guilt by placing it elsewhere,” Ares said, motioning her forward. “You did this. Have a good look, Kyana. Your lack of restraint created a beast never before bred within the Order. Witch, Vampyre, Lychen, all in one very angry body. Your fault. Look!”

Kyana wanted to scream at him to shut the hell up, but he was right. This was her fault and she wouldn’t be a coward. She would look, would drink in the aftermath of her hasty actions. She stepped into the room and fell to her knees. There it was. Just as she’d seen except Haven was gone. Long gone. Blood stained the walls. Bodies on the floor.
Cronos will live
screamed out from the white walls in garish finger paint made of a Healer’s blood.

“I just wanted to save her,” she whispered, dragging herself back to her feet and charging for Ares. “Let me go. The blood is still fresh, I can track her. I can bring her back and save her before she’s lost forever.”

The laugh that escaped Ares’s throat brought a chill over Kyana’s body. “Save her? She is
rogue
! She has murdered the innocent and broken the most severe laws of the Order. There is no
saving
her.”

Kyana hugged her arms around her body, suddenly so cold she couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering. “Please, let me go after her.”

“There is no time, Kyana,” Ares said, his face smug. “We must return for your hearing.”

She turned to face Ryker fully, pressing her body to his. She slid the bloody key from her pants and slipped it discreetly into his hand. “You helped me get this back, Ryker. Finish what we started.”

“That’s your glory to claim. We still don’t know that you won’t be okay—”

Kyana swallowed. Fear for Haven, for herself, for the world as a whole, clogged the vessels that made her heart beat, constricting her chest like a vise.

“Who gives a shit about glory? Close Tartarus.” This was no longer about power or glory or infamy. For the first time since Tartarus had broken open, Kyana had a personal stake in this war. She stepped toward the hall and cast one last look back. “If I don’t come back—if I can’t—promise me you’ll find my sister and fix what I’ve done.”

Chapter Thirty-four

K
yana had expected to find herself sprawled out in the Fates’ cave when Ares ported them to their destination. Instead, when the queasiness subsided, she found herself standing in a room made of alabaster, marble, and every other white stone ever created. It was blinding. Golden light slashed through the uncovered stained-glass windows, striping the floor, forcing her to squint and cup a hand over her eyes to gain her bearings.

“What is this place?” The only furniture in the room was a long table lined with ten tall, gilded chairs. She stood, spinning in a slow circle, trying to take in everything. It was a difficult task, given how heavy her heart and mind were. Whatever Ryker had promised Ares in exchange for Kyana’s freedom had been for nothing. Kyana was still going to die uncertain about Haven’s fate.

“My home.” The sultry voice spun Kyana around to find Artemis leaning in the arched doorway. “My room of trials, to be precise.”

“Beyond—I mean, Olympus?” No one lacking god blood was allowed here. Except maybe those about to be sentenced to die. Having never been in this particular predicament before, Kyana couldn’t be sure.

Artemis gave a slight nod and stepped into the enormous, echoey room. “This court is prepared to hear your plea today, Kyana. Please be seated.”

Kyana obeyed Artemis, rested a warm hand on Kyana’s shoulder, and turned her attention to Ares. “You should have let her go with Ryker to close the gates of Tartarus.”

“She deserves no glory. She was meant to save the world but was too late. Now she’ll be the reason it’s destroyed.”

Kyana felt as though she had been sucker punched. It was true. She’d done her duty and found the key, but not before she’d unleashed the tool that could raise Cronos.

Ares and Artemis’s angry whispers echoed through Kyana’s soul. She forced herself to block everything else but the thoughts in her head. She’d failed them all, but before she could worry about how to save the world, she had to find a way to save herself.

As six robed figures followed Artemis in a line to the table, Kyana took a deep breath and held it. Their golden cloaks hid most of their features, but Kyana recognized the Moerae and their Chosen without seeing their faces.

“I know you’re anxious to have this ordeal over and done with,” Artemis said. “But we’ve another matter to tend before we continue with you. I trust you can be patient?”

Patient? To have her head handed to her?
You bet your ass
.

“Take your time,” Kyana muttered, her gaze skimming the vast room, unwilling to settle upon any one face. Forcing her rubbery legs to take her forward, Kyana sat rigidly in the cold chair and watched as the Moerae and their Chosen took their seats. Ares took a robe from a guard who’d quietly stepped into the room, donned it, and sat beside Atropos.

Great. She hadn’t thought
he
would be one of the judge and jury. Between Ares and Atropos, Kyana was toast.

One last hooded figure entered from an archway to Kyana’s right. This one was draped in black, his face completely concealed by the large hood shadowing his face. But his colors named him, regardless. Hades.

Cold chills broke out over Kyana’s arms and neck. Her body itched to bolt, to make a run for it. Unable to watch as Artemis took the center seat at the table, Kyana fought to control her breathing and dropped her gaze to the floor. It didn’t rest there long before she forced herself to raise it again. She was a fighter, damn it. She barely recognized the frightened little monkey she was becoming. If they were going to sentence her to death, she was going to take it with her head held high. In the heat of the moment, she still thought saving Haven had been the right choice. It wasn’t
her
fault that Below was so poorly guarded that Haven hadn’t been given proper care or protection and had gone rogue.

Kyana swallowed and listened to the dull sounds of her judges whispering to one another. Who was she kidding? Yes, it was her fault. Those dead Healers, the fear in Haven’s eyes, the possibility of Haven’s power bringing Cronos back to fuck them all. All Kyana’s fault. She’d take responsibility, but she wouldn’t give up. She could find Haven and hold her to some sort of humanity as Haven had done for her all these years. If they would just let her go . . . she’d beg for mercy, her pride be damned, if it meant a shot at doing right by her friend this time.

Behind her, heavy doors banged open and sandaled feet slapped against marble. Kyana twisted in her seat to peer over her shoulder at the interruption and found herself staring into Drake’s face.

Was he the reason her trial was being delayed? Two guards held Drake upright, his feet sliding under him as his body just sort of hung limply between them. He didn’t look beaten or battered, much to Kyana’s disappointment, but he’d definitely been through
something
. The glazed, dazed look in his eyes made him appear drugged.

Another chair appeared about four feet from Kyana, and the guards shoved Drake into it, but didn’t budge from his side. Too bad. Kyana wouldn’t have minded reaching over and ripping out his throat. If she was going to go down anyway, why not go down with a little of Drake’s blood on her hands?

“I thought you might wish to witness his trial,” Artemis said.

Kyana looked up to find the goddess watching her with dark amber eyes. “What?”

“You have many marks against you, Kyana, but I, for one, have not forgotten what you have done for the Order. The least we can do is allow you to have your questions answered before you’re sentenced.”

Well. What was she supposed to say to that? Not that she didn’t want to see Drake punished. She did. Big time. She shot Artemis a smile, noting with a bit of satisfaction that neither Ares nor Atropos seemed to share Artie’s benevolence.

“Thank you.”

Artemis nodded, then gestured for Ares to stand before taking her chair at the table of judges. Artemis would likely lead Kyana’s trial, as she was Kyana’s boss, but Drake was no tracer. The God of War himself would question the bastard. Kyana couldn’t summon any pity for the prick.

“You are Drake Ivan Mallone, correct?” Ares started, placing his large body in front of Drake’s chair.

Huh. His initials were D.I.M. No big shocker there.

Drake didn’t look up. Hell, he didn’t look capable of lifting his head. “I am.”

“Joined the Order of Ancients in 1995, retired in 2004?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you leave the Order, Drake?”

“Didn’t believe in it anymore.” Drake’s voice was smooth as butter. No slurring, no hesitation. He was drugged all right, but completely coherent. What had they given him?

“Because the god you worshipped was the enemy of the Order?” Ares presented his back to Kyana and paced the small space between her and Drake’s chairs.

“Yes. The true god. The most powerful. I would do his bidding.”

“You agreed to give us the facts about the deceased, Marcus Talstoy, in exchange for your life, did you not?”

“I did.”

“What?”
Kyana bolted from her chair, outraged by this tidbit. Ares had his hand on her shoulder and her ass back in her seat before she could move another inch. “You’re going to let him live? He killed Chosen, for Zeus’s sake!”

“Control your bitch, Artemis,” Ares sneered. “Or I shall.”

“Kyana.” Artemis stood behind the table and glared daggers in Ares’s back before giving Kyana her attention again. “The ability to see the truth of his words is still ours, but the Fates’ powers have weakened a good deal, far more quickly than their Chosen can pick them up again. Finding the truth is simple. Forcing secrets is much more difficult. Without Drake’s cooperation, we may never discover Marcus’s connection to Cronos. Now, let us continue in peace, or I’ll be forced to escort you from the hall myself.”

Kyana opened her mouth to protest, but something twinkled in Artemis’s eyes that held Kyana’s tongue silent. There was more to this promise than Kyana had been told. There was no way they’d let Drake off scot-free after murdering Chosen. Kyana would have to be happy with that small comfort.

“Go on,” she muttered.

Ares sneered at her again, then turned back to his captive. “Who unlocked Tartarus?”

Drake’s head bobbed against his chest. “Cronos.”

“And how did he manage this?”

“Possession. Marcus was willing. It was Marcus’s body in Tartarus that night, but because it was Cronos who resided within it, Hades’s security enchantments were never set off. Cronos had leave to come and go from the Underworld when he reigned. That privilege was never stripped of him when he was exiled.”

Kyana glanced up at the table to find Hades shifting in his seat. She narrowed her gaze, trying to catch a glimpse of his face, but the shadows were too thick.

“And is this also how Marcus caught sight of the scroll that listed the Chosen?”

In an attempt to shake his head, Drake limply thrust his head from side to side. “Illusion Charm. Cronos had no part in that.”

“But he only saw it once!” Clotho pushed to her feet and leaned over the table. “We added new names to that list, and yet he still found them. Cronos must have—”

“Marcus performed a spell in your chambers,” Drake interrupted. “He ingested some of the coating used on the parchment and linked himself to that scroll. Each time a new name was added, he knew the minute ink was put to paper.”

That explained how Marcus had known about Haven. He must have been far more skilled in magic than anyone had given him credit for. Kyana had to bite her tongue to keep from tossing out her own questions—questions about his relationship with Haven and his betrayal of that trust, but if she followed that instinct, she’d be thrown out until her own hearing. She slid her hands under her butt to keep them from reaching out and strangling him.

“Cronos had the key in his possession all this time?” Ares asked.

Drake nodded. “He had it enchanted before his death. A Witch on the isle performed the ceremony, and when Cronos died, the key died with him in a sense. He kept it tied to his spirit form. When he took over Marcus’s body, it became as tangible as Cronos himself.

“He’d expected it to return to the spirit world with him when he left Marcus’s body, though. Hadn’t counted on that hiccup.” A slow smile spread across the visible part of Drake’s face and an eerie bubble of laughter spewed out of his mouth. “When Marcus woke up again, he was in so much pain, covered in so much blood, I almost left him to die. Should have. Bastard went after my girl.”

So, Drake wasn’t so loyal to Marcus? Maybe didn’t like him all that much? But he
hadn’t
left Marcus to die. Maybe he’d been too afraid of Cronos to do so, but either way, his actions had put Haven in danger.

“How did the key end up in Marcus’s chest? Cronos wouldn’t have been able to touch anything outside of Marcus’s body.”

“He sewed it inside while in Marcus’s skin. I didn’t like seeing my lord in so much pain. He felt everything he was doing to Marcus’s body, but I didn’t interfere. I knew that as soon as Cronos fled the body, only Marcus would feel the pain. And it was about time too. I was tired of being Marcus’s lackey. Getting my hands bloody for the cause while he reaped all the rewards with our lord.”

Whatever drug they’d given Drake was handy. He was spewing forth everything, no protesting, no holding back.

“And that is everything you have to tell us?” Ares asked, pulling Drake’s hair to force his neck back and his eyes up. “What of Cronos’s plans?”

“His plans? To come back, of course. To reclaim the throne stolen from him by his sons.” Again, the smile crept onto Drake’s face. “He’ll kill them all. Take what is rightfully his. All of you . . . all of you will be reduced to nothing under his reign. He knew of the prophecy, waited for your weakness. Now he has the one with the power to make him whole once more, and when he is, there will be but one god, and it will be Cronos.” His brown eyes darkened and narrowed at Ares. “I’ve told you everything. Release me as you swore you would.”

“Oh, I will.” Ares turned and nodded to the sentinels who’d backed away from Drake’s chair with Ares’s approach. “Take him into the holding cell until my work here is over.”

“But you said—”

Ares glared at Drake. “I know what I said. I said you would not be our prisoner and we would not kill you. I hold true to my word. There is an island I think you might enjoy spending the rest of your days exploring.” He leaned over Drake, his smile far more sinister than anything Drake had managed so far. “I will port you there, personally, and Ryker will port us out . . . without you. I advise you to find shelter quickly. I hear it’s not a pleasant place to be once the sun sets.”