The Goddess Test Boxed Set: Goddess Interrupted\The Goddess Inheritance\The Goddess Legacy (54 page)

“Perfect timing,” she said, her voice as girly as ever, but
regality saturated each syllable.

“Kate?” Henry's voice broke, and the waves of dark power around
him faltered. No, no, no, he couldn't stop now. She'd attack the first chance he
gave her.

I took a step back. Forget subtlety. Like hell I was letting
Cronus keep me from my family. “Don't let them follow me,” I said to Henry, and
without warning, I wrenched my arm from Cronus as hard as I could, pulling
against his thumb. The weakest part of his grip—if he had any weak spots at
all.

Maybe I managed to take him by surprise, or maybe he was simply
amused and wanted to see what I would do, but Cronus didn't fight me. He let go,
and before anyone could say a word, I tore down the hallway and into the
nursery.

Milo lay in the cradle, crying softly, and I ached to finally
touch him. How was it possible that minutes before, we'd been connected? How had
I ever allowed my body to let him go?

“It's all right,” I whispered, reaching for him. He calmed, and
this time when his blue eyes met mine, I knew he saw me. “I won't let anything
happen to you.”

The moment my fingers brushed his downy cheek, someone cleared
their throat behind me, and I turned. Calliope stood framed in the doorway, and
she held the dagger to Henry's throat.

All of the air escaped my lungs. This was it. He was going to
die. I was going to lose my husband, my baby, my entire family to a crazy
goddess who didn't care who she hurt, so long as she got her way. So long as she
got to torture me.

“Don't hurt him—you can't, please,” I whispered, clutching the
edge of the cradle. Henry's eyes were open, and he stared at me—no, not at me.
Beyond me. He stared at Milo. It was a small comfort, knowing that he would die
with the knowledge he had a son. That at least he would have this moment.

“Please,”
spat Calliope, a mockery
of my desperation. “Always please, as if that's enough. You know it isn't, Kate.
Why bother?”

It didn't matter if nothing I ever did was enough; I had to
try. I couldn't live with myself if I surrendered and let her have everything
that mattered to me. “You love him. If you kill him, you'll never have him.
You'll lose.”

She scoffed, but a hint of doubt flashed across her face. “I'll
be the queen of the world. I'll never lose again.”

“Being queen won't make you happy.” I studied the way she held
Henry. He could break her grip if she lowered the knife. All we needed was that
split second, and I could distract her long enough for Henry to take the baby
and disappear. “You'll still be alone. You'll still be miserable.”

Calliope's eyes narrowed. “Whatever it is you think you're
doing, it won't work. I don't need him anymore.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I already have exactly what I want.” Behind her, Cronus
loomed, somehow taller than he had been moments before. The power radiating from
Henry was gone now. “First I'm going to kill Henry, and then I'm going to kill
your mother and every single member of the council. Once I'm done, when the
world kneels at my feet, I will hold your son, and he will call me mother and
you a traitor. And together, we will watch you die.”

Henry roared and struggled against her, coming to life at last,
but whatever chained him held strong. She pressed the blade to his throat. This
wasn't about winning anymore—she knew she had me, and I knew this was the end.
Now it was about causing me as much pain as possible.

The joke was on her, though. Without Henry, without my mother,
without my son, I would welcome death.

Focus.
This couldn't be it. There
had to be something I could do—some magical combination of words I could say to
get her to lower that dagger. Anything.

Behind me, Milo's cries grew louder, and I groped around until
I touched his hand. This was it. These were the only few moments I would have
with him. Despite the dagger to Henry's throat, I would have given anything to
make them last forever.

“Then kill me,” I blurted. “Right now, in front of Henry, in
front of the baby—just do it. Because I promise if you hurt either of them, I
will make sure you spend eternity burning in Tartarus.”

Calliope tilted her head, and I held my breath. She had to
agree. Anything to get her to lower that knife, to give Henry that split-second
advantage—anything.

But before she could say a word, Cronus exhaled, and fog crept
across the floor of the nursery. “No.” The word was barely a whisper, but it
burrowed inside me, refusing to be ignored. “You will not harm Kate, my
daughter. If she dies, so will you.”

Behind the flush of her excitement, Calliope paled. “You can
either keep Kate or her spawn alive. Not both. Choose.”

“I have already told you what you will do,” said Cronus. “You
will obey me, or you will be the one to die. That is your choice to make, not
mine.”

Clenching her jaw, she dug the blade deeper into Henry's skin,
and he winced.
Forget me.
His voice echoed through
my mind as clearly as if he'd spoken.
Do whatever you must
to escape before it's too late.

“No,” I whispered, and Henry narrowed his eyes. He could glare
at me all he wanted. I wasn't leaving, not without him. Not without the
baby.

Though she was still pale, Calliope's lips twisted into a
smirk. “How cute. You can try all you want, but she isn't getting out of here
ali—” She stopped. “What's that?”

Cronus's expression went blank, and I twisted around, searching
for whatever it was that had caught her attention. What was what?

Calliope's gaze unfocused, and her smirk faltered. “Father, do
something,” she hissed, and at last I heard it.

The distant rumble of thunder, growing louder with each passing
second.

The crack of lightning that lit up the sky beyond the indigo
curtains in the hallway.

A burst of wind so strong that it howled through the
corridors.

And a dozen war cries blending together, forming a fearsome
harmony.

The council had arrived.

Calliope's face went from pale to ashen, and her grip on Henry
slipped. I didn't think. In that moment, I memorized the feel of my son's tiny
hand in mine, and I let go.

As fast as I could, I hurtled toward Henry and Calliope,
knocking him out of the way. Grabbing her fist, I smashed her knuckles against
the wall to make her let go of the dagger. She wasn't human though, and just
like me, she couldn't feel pain. No matter how much force I used, it was
pointless.

But I had to buy Henry enough time to grab Milo and leave.
Together we struggled, goddess against goddess, and I let out an enraged cry.
Something inside me took over, something primal. As Calliope fought, so did I,
with everything I had.

“Cronus!” shrieked Calliope, but he vanished into an eerie fog.
His true form. With a dozen screaming gods surrounding the castle, no matter how
powerful he was, he had no choice but to fight. He wouldn't be any help to her
now.

Calliope must have realized the same thing, because with a
surge of power, she shoved me, and we toppled to the ground. She twisted my
neck, and I scratched her face, attempting to gouge out her eyes, but neither of
us could hurt the other.

“You bitch,” she snarled. “You conniving, useless bitch.”

“Can't kill me.” I worked my fingers around the handle of the
dagger and struggled to pull it from her grip. “I die, you die, remember?”

“Father won't touch a hair on my head.”

“Are you willing to bet your entire existence on that?”

She screeched and wrenched the dagger from me. I had no chance
against her immense strength, and I watched in horror as my grip slipped and the
tip of the infused blade plunged into my arm.

White-hot pain ripped through me, burning everything in its
path, infinitely worse than the brush of fog against my leg during my botched
coronation ceremony nearly a year before. This was inside me, fusing together
with my very being, choking it until only a few pitiful gasps remained.

I was dying. Two more seconds, and I'd be—

A black blur slammed into her. As the weight of Calliope's body
disappeared, the choke hold vanished. Agony burned inside me, leaving me
breathless, and fire replaced the ice of the blade as I bled freely. What was
happening?

I opened my eyes, half expecting to see wherever gods went when
they died, but instead all I saw was Calliope's maniacal grin as she lay on the
floor beside me.

No, that wasn't all. Henry hovered above her, pressed oddly
against her body at an angle I didn't understand. His eyes widened, his mouth
dropped open, and his hands clutched something against his ribs.

“I win,” whispered Calliope. And as she pulled the bloody
dagger from Henry's chest, I finally understood.

Chapter 3

The Darkest Hour

For four years, I'd stayed by my mother's bedside and
watched her fade away. Her once strong and healthy body had withered into a poor
imitation of the woman I remembered, and not an hour had passed without me
imagining what it would be like the day death claimed her.

I'd lived in constant fear of waking up and finding her gone, a
shell where my mother had once been. I would watch the clock flip over to
midnight and wonder if that was the date I would mourn each year for the rest of
my life.

I knew what it was like to lose. I knew what it was like to
fight the inevitable.

But none of that had prepared me for watching Henry die.

Blood spurted from the wound in his chest. He fell to his
knees, one hand clutching his rib cage, the other reaching for me. I'd never
seen such real terror in his eyes. Gods weren't supposed to die. Not unless they
wanted to.

I reached for him with my good arm as the life drained from
him. Was the blade strong enough to kill me, too? Once it was over, would we be
together on the other side, wherever that might lead?

Was there even another side for the Lord of the Dead?

The moment our fingers met, my body lurched. It was a familiar
feeling—much more jolting than I'd ever experienced before, but the instant it
happened, I knew. We were going home.

One second, I was only feet away from Milo as he cried. The
next I lay in a heap with Henry, and silence surrounded us. We weren't in
Calliope's palace anymore. We weren't even on the island. But we weren't in the
Underworld either, or at least any part of it I'd ever seen.

Instead we were in the middle of a massive room devoid of
anything but a sky-blue ceiling and sunset floor. The golden walls seemed to
stretch out forever, and with the sun in the middle of the ceiling as if it were
a real sky, everything glittered with light. It should've taken my breath
away.

But Milo was gone. Wherever we were, I knew instinctively he
wouldn't be joining us, and unspeakable pain spread like acid inside me. I would
have gladly been stabbed a thousand times over rather than feel this for even a
moment.

There was nothing I could do, though. My mother was on the
island with him, along with James and the rest of the council, and that would
have to be enough. The only person I had a prayer of helping now had me pinned
to the sunset floor.

“Henry.” Even though the last thing I wanted to do was hurt
him, I had no choice but to roll him gently off me. Blood soaked through his
shirt, and I pressed my hands against his chest in an attempt to stop the flow,
but it was useless. After everything we'd gone through together, after
everything he'd done to protect me, I couldn't do a damn thing to save him. It
wasn't fair. It wasn't
fair.

“Kate?” His voice was thick and hoarse, as if he were ill, but
he wasn't. He was dying. “Are you—are you all right?”

“I'm fine,” I lied, and my voice broke. “Don't sit up. You're
losing too much blood.” How much did gods have in them? The same as mortals? How
much could they live without?

“I didn't know,” he whispered. “I thought— Ava said—”

“It's not your fault.” I shakily brushed my mouth against his.
He tasted like rain. “None of this is your fault. I should've never trusted her.
I should've never left you. I'm sorry.”

He kissed me back weakly. “Was that—was that baby...”

A lump formed in my throat. “Yeah. He's your son.” I managed a
watery smile. At least Henry knew. “I named him Milo. We can call him something
different if you'd like.”

“No.” He coughed, and a few droplets of blood stained his lips.
“It's perfect. So are you.”

I leaned against his chest, putting as much weight on the wound
as possible. I refused to say goodbye like this. Not to Henry, not to our life
together, none of it. I wasn't ready, and Milo deserved to have a father. I
hadn't had one growing up, and like hell would I let him experience that same
emptiness and uncertainty. He deserved more than that. He deserved to have a
family.

My arm bled freely, and within moments the room began to spin.
Henry's moonlit eyes remained open, and he smiled. “Never thought I'd have a
son.” His voice trembled. “Never thought I'd have you.”

I gritted my teeth against the dizziness, my body growing
weaker by the second. “You're going to have me for a hell of a lot longer than
this.” My vision blurred, and I struggled to look around us. Where was everyone?
Why couldn't they feel the life drain from Henry the way I could?

Because it wasn't his life I felt draining away. It was
mine.

“Kate? Henry?”

My mother's voice washed over me, and I let out an exhausted
sob. “Mom?”

She knelt beside me, radiating warmth and the scent of apples
and freesia. “Let go, sweetheart,” she murmured. “I've got you.”

I couldn't force my hands from Henry, though. He was cold now,
his eyes wide and unblinking, and his chest was still. Gods didn't need to
breathe, but Henry always had. His heart had always beaten, but now I saw no
hint of a pulse.

He was dead.

I didn't remember the others appearing. One moment my mother
held me against her chest, her hand wrapped around my bleeding arm as I screamed
and cried and disappeared into myself. The next, Walter hovered over us, and
Theo knelt beside Henry's body, his lips moving at a furious pace.

“Get her out of here,” said Walter, his booming voice distant
as I cowered in a dark corner in the recesses of my mind. Gentle hands lifted
me, and I thought I heard James's voice murmuring words of comfort I didn't
understand, but outwardly I thrashed and shrieked. I couldn't leave Henry. If I
left him, I would never see him again, and then he really would be gone.

He couldn't be, though. He just couldn't be.

Another pair of hands joined us, but I was so completely
submerged into myself that I might as well have closed my eyes and disappeared
in the dark. In here, nothing could touch me. In here, Henry was everywhere. In
here, it was winter again, and we curled up together underneath the down
comforter in the Underworld as the hours passed by. His chest was warm under my
palm, and his heart beat against my fingers, steady and eternal. In here, no one
died.

A whimper caught my attention, and I opened my eyes again. The
golden room was gone, replaced by the sunset nursery in Calliope's palace, and
my heart sank. There, lying in the cradle, was Milo. My mother hadn't saved him,
after all.

I stood beside him, pretending I could touch him and rock him
to sleep. Pretending that it wasn't just a matter of time before the Titan fire
in my veins consumed me and Milo would be orphaned. I had never known my father,
but I treasured the time I'd spent with my mother. Milo would never have that
either. The only time we would have together were those few seconds before
Calliope had killed his father, and he would never remember them.

No, we had now. Even if he didn't know I was with him, I could
be there. I would be. Settling in beside his cradle, I watched him unblinkingly,
soaking in every second.

And I waited for the inevitable to come.

* * *

Kate.

James's voice floated toward me and wound its way through what
was left of my heart. I blinked. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? Days? No,
Calliope might have been a monster, but she wouldn't have left Milo alone for
that long. He slept soundly in the cradle, his little chest rising and falling.
I took comfort in each breath.

Come back, Kate.

His words were a whisper against my ear, but I stayed put.
There was nothing left for me in reality. My mother had lived for eons before
I'd been born; she could do without me once more. She would have to.

The air grew thick with annoyance.
Kate, I
swear, if you don't come back, I will tell Henry you kissed me. And that you
said I have a nice ass.

“Henry?” My eyes flew open—my real eyes this time. As it had
each time before, the wrench of leaving Milo took my breath away, and fuzzy
shapes floated in front of me until I managed to focus.

A sky-blue ceiling and undoubtedly a sunset floor. But unlike
the room bathed in golden light, this was different. Smaller, muted, and darker
somehow.

Frantically I looked around the room for any sign of Henry, but
he wasn't there. James's sick idea of a joke then, to pull me away from the only
thing that gave me any small measure of comfort now.

“How are you feeling?” My mother hovered beside my bed,
applying a compress of something that smelled like honey and tangerines to my
arm. Noticing my stare, she smoothed my hair back and offered me a small smile
that didn't meet her eyes. “A compress to stop the pain. You'll have to wear a
sling, but it won't spread anywhere else for now.”

I shook my head. “Take it off.”

“What?” Her brow knitted. “Sweetheart, this is saving your
life—”

“I don't want it.” I sat up, and my body screamed in protest as
I ripped the compress from my arm. It didn't matter. Henry was dead, and I would
never hold my son again. I didn't want anyone to save my life.

My mother set her hand against my good shoulder, and firmly but
gently, she guided me back onto the bed. I didn't have the strength to fight
her. “Too bad. I'm your mother, and whether you like it or not, I'm not going to
let you die on my watch.”

I sniffed, staring at the cloudless ceiling. “I can't do this,
Mama.” I hadn't called her that since the second grade, when the most popular
girl in my New York City private school had overheard and proceeded to tease me
for the next four years.

“Can't do what?” She laid the compress on my arm again, and
though it hurt like hell, the pain didn't spread.

“I had a baby,” I whispered. Did she even know she was a
grandmother? Did she know about Calliope's plot? Or did she think I'd run off
with Ava for nine months and forgotten about her?

She hesitated, not meeting my eyes. “I know. I'm so sorry,
Kate.”

That was it. Simple acknowledgment. No offer to find him. No
promise to take him from Calliope the first chance she got. I swallowed thickly,
half an inch away from hysteria. “His name's Milo. Henry—Henry liked that
name.”

“I'm sure he still does.” James's voice filtered through the
haze around me.

“Still does?” My voice cracked, and though my mother held me
down, I raised my head. James leaned against the open doorway, his blond hair
tousled and his cheeks flushed, as if he'd run a marathon. Or maybe it was
because I hadn't seen him in the sunlight for so long.

“He's in another room. Theo's tending to him,” he said. Theo,
the member of the council with the ability to heal wounds caused by Titans. Or
if not heal, at least make them less painful.

Was it possible? The way Henry's eyes had stared unseeingly,
the lack of heartbeat, of any effort at all to keep his body going—it couldn't
be. “Is Henry alive?”

The moment between my question and James's answer lasted for an
eternity. All at once I needed to hear it, yet I didn't want to know. I could
have clung to the delicious hope James gave me for the rest of my endless life.
Henry could always be in the next room over, alive and waiting for me.

“Yes,” he said, and I let out a soft sob. My mother touched my
cheek, but I looked past her, focusing on my best friend.

“Can I see him? I need to see him.” Forget lying still. I
struggled to sit up again, but for a second time, my mother held me down, more
insistent than before.

“You can see him as soon as you're well enough,” she said, but
she glanced at James, and they exchanged a look I didn't understand.

“What?” My neck strained with the effort of keeping my head
upright, but I couldn't look away. “What's going on?”

James faltered, and that delicate balloon of hope inside me
burst. “He's unconscious, and there's a chance he might never wake up.”

I gripped the sheets with my good hand. He wasn't dead, but he
wasn't alive either. Caught between, like my mother had been during the time I'd
spent at Eden Manor when the council had tested me. Except Henry was immortal,
and he would have no release.

I didn't know what was worse—death or this.

“Theo stopped the spread, but Henry was stabbed in the chest,”
said James. He approached the bed and took my hand, grasping it gently. My
fingers twitched. “We don't know how bad the damage is. Or if Henry will ever
recover enough to wake up.”

“Is—is there a cure? A way to fix him?”

“There's nothing we can do,” said James, and on my other side,
my mother dabbed the corners of her eyes with a tissue. “We just have to
wait.”

My throat constricted. There had to be a way. There always was.
If Henry could bring me back from the dead, then I could find a way to do the
same for him. “What about Cronus? Couldn't he do something?”

Dead silence. Seconds ticked by, and without warning, my mother
and James started talking at once.

“I can't possibly allow—”

“Even if he could, do you really think—”

They both stopped and stared at each other, and finally my
mother went first.

“You are not going back there, sweetheart,” she said. “It's a
miracle Henry got you out in the first place, and he risked everything for you.
He wouldn't want you to walk back into that. You know he wouldn't.”

If it was just me, then my mother would have been right.
However, it wasn't just about me anymore. It was about Milo, too. I might've
been powerless to rescue our son, but if Henry could save me, then he could save
him, as well. And if there was a way I could help Henry—if there was a way I
could give Milo the father he deserved, then I had to try.